Difficulties Under Heaven
By KMNAHILL and MD1016


Hello, friends.  This is the promised sequel to The Way (you
really should read that story first.  Trust us on this one).  There
are some third season spoilers (for our overseas friends), and
this story takes place 9 months after the first (Mulder and Scully
are a *definate* couple.)  There is a lot of Scully angst, some
sex, a little more plot than the first story, and a lot of Scully
angst.  Did we mention the Scully angst?

Of course, Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions (and we
guess the Fox Network, as well) own the X-Files characters that
you'll recognize.  Frank Kellogg (you'll remember from The
Way), Dr. Moore, and Janet are the creation of MD1016. 
KMNAHILL is responsible for the baby (and the baby bonding
scene), most of the medical terminology, and the beautiful
insight of the Tao.  At this time, no one is taking credit for "the
shower scene", but if you like it, maybe we'll put a few more like
it in the third and final installment of this little story.  (We didn't
actually *write* "the shower" scene, the pen slipped.) 


We'd also like to thank Dianora2 , for just being her.  

****************

Difficulties Under Heaven


Undertake difficult tasks
by approaching what is easy in them;
Do great deeds
by focusing on their minute aspects.
All difficulties under heaven arise from what is easy,
All great things under heaven arise from what is
minute.

-Tao Te Ching


January 28, 1996.
Washington, DC.
2:34 PM.


     "Come in," Walter Skinner's voice was gruff, betraying his
inner turmoil. He had not been looking forward to the interview. 
Special Agent Fox Mulder and his partner, Special Agent Dana
Scully entered his office hesitantly. Neither was certain what the
meeting was supposed to be about.


     "Mulder, what have you been up to now?" Scully had asked
when the summons first came.  
     "Nothing, I swear."
     "Then what does Skinner want? You don't think..."
     "Scully, let's not go through this again, OK? He can't know
about us and I'm getting tired of tiptoeing around the subject,"
Mulder interrupted. He ran his hand through his short, dark hair
and took a deep breath before continuing, knowing his temper
was only going to put his partner and lover on the defensive.
Again. "Dana, don't keep doing this," he whispered as he moved
towards her. "We'll just go up and see what he wants."

     Scully stood stiff in his arms ambivalent about whether to
continue the argument or to let it drop. If only they could resolve
this, she thought sadly. The secrecy surrounding their affair,
compounded by his disappearance, return and the death of her
sister, strained the relationship almost to the breaking point. If
only they could be open and above board about their love like
other couples, normal couples.... But there was nothing normal
about them.
     She shook her head to negate the bitter thoughts and relaxed
into Fox's embrace. The facade had to be kept in place for
safety's sake, if for nothing else. She was at risk being his
partner; there was no telling how much jeopardy she'd be in if
"they" discovered the truth about her and Fox's relationship. As
partners, they also had a responsibility to the X-Files. Their work
was vital to their sanity; the answer to the questions which
plagued both their lives. That they were lovers was all the
excuse needed to separate them, at the least, or close the
department, at the worse. Scully couldn't help the jiggle of fear
in her stomach when she considered what the chip in her neck
might have betrayed to those who would use the information,
her very thoughts, against her- no, against them. She snuggled
closer into Mulder's arms.


     In the A.D.'s office, facing Skinner, she struggled to maintain
her professional demeanor. A glance in Mulder's direction
confirmed her suspicion that he too was not as comfortable as
he's protested. She noticed the slight tension behind his eyes,
the tightening of his jaw. No, she thought, the effort of
keeping these secrets was getting to both of them.
     Skinner's restless shuffling of his notes recalled her attention.
     "Please, sit down," he said, indicating two chairs with a nod
of his head. "A case came across my desk this morning which I
thought might interest you both."  A case then, Scully thought,
relieved, then tensed again as she straightened in her seat.
Another case, another test of their resolve that there would be
no romance while they were away on a case. With increasing
frequency this translated into no touching, no friendly banter,
hardly any eye contact. In an attempt to put their behavior
above reproach, they had taken an extreme, opposite stance,
she realized, closing her eyes to push the disappointment to the
back of her heart.
     "Do I have your attention, Agent Scully?" 
     "Yes, sir," she responded, her head snapping up.
     "I assume you both remember Agent Frank Kellogg?"
     Mulder cleared his throat and sent a worried look in Scully's
direction. She was staring straight ahead, paling at the mention
of Kellogg's name.
     "Um, yes, sir. He'd disappeared while recuperating in
Chicago."
     Skinner nodded. "His body turned up yesterday morning in a
city dump. Exact cause of death has not yet been determined
but the coroner estimates that the time of death was
approximately two days prior to his body being discovered."
     "He's been alive all this time?" Mulder asked excitedly, sitting
forward in his chair. "We'd assumed he'd been killed shortly
after his abduction." He turned expectant eyes on his partner.
This was a new, unlocked lead which might further explain what
had been done to Scully during her absence from
Quantico, nine months earlier.

     Dana's eyes were fixed on some distant point, her breath
coming in short, ragged gasps. Her hands gripped the arms of
the chair tight enough to show the white of her knuckles.
     "Agent Scully?" Skinner's question cut through her fear
choked haze.
     "Excuse me," she said as she bolted from the room.
     Mulder was on his feet to follow before he was consciously
aware of moving. The A.D.'s voice pulled him up short.
     "Agent Mulder, wait. Give her a minute."
     "With all due respect, sir...," Mulder hissed, moving towards
the door again.
     "Wait, Mulder! I said, give her a minute!" Skinner's command
was like a whip.
     "This is going to bring up painful memories for Agent Scully. I
hesitated before calling this case to your attention."
     Mulder only stared, torn between his desire to comfort Scully
and his need to hear out his boss. His own mind was reeling as
he recalled the events stirred up by the mention of Kellogg's
name; Scully's assignment at Quantico, her disappearance from
the cabin, his own brush with death, the microchip, Melissa's
death, his father -- his murder and the fact that he sanctioned
the abduction of Samantha -- the stress of case after case
pushing at the world he and Scully had created for themselves,
striving to drive a wedge between them. He was all too aware of
how fragile their relationship had become but was unable to alter
the events surrounding them. He ground his teeth in frustration.
     "Sit down, Mulder."
     "Sir, I..."
     "I said, sit down. There's something I want to discuss with
you."

****************

J Edgar Hoover Building, FBI.
Woman's Washroom, 8th Floor.

     Dana Scully gazed at the reflection in the mirror. She was
grateful to find the bathroom empty. As empty as my life's
becoming, she thought. Stop that, Scully, she ordered, as she
ran trembling fingers through her red-gold hair. "It's bad enough
I ran out of Skinner's office, I won't indulge in a bout of self-pity."

     A new lead.  She could so easily read the anticipation in
Mulder's face.  "This is what he's been waiting for - what we've
been waiting for," she corrected. Wasn't it?  She turned her back
on the questioning eyes in the mirror.  Maybe it wasn't.  But she
couldn't bring herself to ask the question: Why? Instead, she
straightened her shoulders, brushed her hair back behind an ear,
and ran in to Mulder in the hallway.

     "You okay, Scully?"  His face revealed more than simple
concern.

     "Yeah," she exhaled.  "I'm just feeling a little under the
weather."  Offering him a faint smile, she plucked the case file
from his hand and started towards their basement office. 
"When's the body being delivered?"

     "Scully-" he stopped her with a hand on her arm, "you're not
thinking of doing the autopsy yourself-"

     "No."  She flipped the folder over in her hands, weighing
whether or not to tell him about the sickly feeling in her chest.  "I
just want to know when we'll have the results."  

     Mulder eyed her carefully, noting the way she was avoiding
any kind of direct eye contact.  He recognized the stone-face
she was wearing.  Didn't she know she never had to put up a
strong from for him?  Why was she hiding?  The last nine
months had been some of the happiest and most anguishing of
his life, the last three in particular.  Somehow an unspoken
wedge had been place between Scully and him, and he couldn't
seem to work it free.  And now he could plainly see how much
this recent new about Frank Kellogg was bothering her, and she
was openly dismissing it.  He reached a hand out to touch her
cheek; to let her know that he saw and understood, but she
flinched away from him and continued the trek to the office.

     "Not here."

     He watched her walking away from him, unable to stuff the
pain down any longer.  "Scully," he said just as she rounded the
corner, "Then where?  We need to talk."  But before he even
finished the sentence, she was gone.

****************

January 29, 1996.
Chicago, Ill.
Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
3:27 PM.
        
    
         "Mom, I'm OK. Really," Dana said to her mother after
impulsively calling her from the hotel suite in Chicago. "No,
there's nothing wrong.  We got here just fine. Mulder's talking to
the local authorities and I won't get all the lab results until
tomorrow so I just thought I'd call and see how you were doing."
         "Don't lie to me Dana Katherine Scully. You never call
while you're away on a case. Tell me."
         "There's nothing to tell. I was just feeling at loose ends."
         There was a pause at the other end of the phone. "Dana,
honey, is everything all right between you and Fox?" Margaret
Scully asked.
         Dana could hear the hesitation behind the question, knew
her mother didn't mean to pry, but flared into anger anyway.
"Why would you think this involves Mulder, Mom? Not
everything in my life revolves around him, you know. I have to
go. Talk to you soon. I love you."
         
         Dana let the set phrases trip over themselves as she
quickly hung up the phone.  Better to hang up than to fight with
Mom, she thought, but was inwardly shaken by her show of
temper. It was too close to loosing control, too much like... what
happened before.
    
         She shuddered, shuttering off those memories as she
glanced around the room, more to distract herself than out of
any real sense of curiosity.  She was pleased. It was nice getting
a case in a large city for a change. At least we have a decent
hotel, she thought, no fighting for extra towels, access to a
phone line for her modem...
    
         "You're wasting time," Dana, she chided herself. There are
reports to read, leads to follow. She tried to force herself off the
side of the bed where she'd been sitting but failed. She felt so
listless. "What's the point?" a small voice asked. "We'll find
nothing. Again. An exercise in futility, another dead end; one
more disappointment, another excuse for us not leading a
normal life."
    
         And where was he anyway? A flicker of anger replaced the
depression and weariness. What was taking him so long at that
God damned police station? Why did he leave her behind?
Lately, she was always being left behind.  "I'm his partner, damn
it, not some lackey to show up whenever he deems me
necessary."
    
         The reasonable part of Scully's mind tried to remind her
that they had agreed to split the work load - Mulder going to
interview the witnesses who discovered Kellogg's body, Scully
reviewing the known lab and autopsy findings - but she was
suddenly consumed by inexplicable rage and frustration. Damn
Mulder, anyway!
    
         She pitched herself off the bed and headed for the door
but stopped midway across the floor.  Where was she going?
Mulder had the car. There was no where to go, nothing for her to
do.
         "No!" she yelled, suddenly feeling trapped. She needed to
do something, anything. She had to release this tension; this
sense of helplessness. Her eyes darted around the room and
lighted on the vase of flowers sitting on the small desk. With no
thought, Dana ran across the room and snatched up the
ornament, flinging it directly into the screen of the room's
television.
    
         Sparks flew as the picture tube shattered and the water
from the vase shorted out the electrical wiring. Dana listened to
the hissing and tinkling of falling glass and breathed the smell of
ozone in the air. Her face was blank as she surveyed the
damage, all her energy drained as the remaining water dripped
off the console. She turned her back on the destruction and
stumbled to the bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow.
    
    
 ****************    
Chicago, Ill.
Police Precinct #17.
5:56 PM.
    
       Mulder pulled his coat closed in the nip of  crisp winter air
as he left the precinct house. He glanced down the street to get
his bearings, his mind wandering back to the flight from
Washington.  He'd had grave reservations including Dana in this
investigation.  He felt she needed some time off.  But knew the
futility of trying to convince her to stay behind. Skinner had told
him that the Bureau's psychologist and the head of EAP had not
wanted her assigned to this case due to the possibility of stress
related complications.  Skinner wanted her partner's opinion,
and Mulder knew what he had better say. 
    
         She had pretended to sleep during the flight, he knew but
he let her have her space. When she was ready to talk to him,
he'd be there for her. Until then, he would watch over her and
make this as easy as possible.
    
         He found the car, unlocked it and pulled out into traffic.
OK, he thought, Scully should have had time to review the files
so we can talk about the day and then get on to dinner. Maybe
this business about us keeping our distance from one another
while on a case wasn't such a good idea after all. We need to be
close right now.
    
         Mulder was still weighing his options when he got to the
hotel and parked the car. We'll talk tonight, he decided and
walked over to the elevator. In the back of his mind, he was
hoping for a return to the closeness they had shared when they
first discovered they had loved each other. He missed that if he
was being honest with himself. They would definitely talk about it
that night.
   

****************

Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
6:34 PM.

         As the elevator doors opened to his floor, he could hear
someone banging on a door down the hall. Without thinking,
Mulder checked the accessibility of his gun and warily exited the
car. He saw two men standing in front of Scully's door and
recognized the hotel manager.
    
         "Ms. Scully, are you all right? Agent Scully?" the manager
called through the door as Mulder hurried down the hallway,
pulling out his badge.
         "I'm Mulder. What's going on here?"
         The manager and the other man, a security officer,
glanced at Mulder's ID and began to relax. 
         "Agent Mulder, I'm glad you're here. One of the
housecleaning staff reported hearing a yell from this room and
some kind of crash. Unfortunately, he didn't make his report until
he finished his duties on the floor. When I heard, I came up to
check on the situation. I haven't been able to get a response
from Agent Scully."
         Mulder looked grim and pulled his gun. "Open it, then
stand back."
         The security guard nodded and inserted his key.
         "Scully!" he called as he pushed open the door.
         The room was a shambles, the television broken and
water was dripping onto the carpeting.  In the bedroom, Scully
was sprawled across the bed, her face buried in her pillow.
         Mulder holstered his gun and hurried over to her. He
gently lifted and turned her over, breathing only when she
fluttered her eyes.
         "Scully? Are you all right?"
         "Mulder? What's wrong? What happened?"
         "You tell me." He pulled away slightly to allow her to view
the room. "Are you all right?"
from her face.
         "Excuse me, Agent Mulder. Do we need to call an
ambulance or anything? The police?" the manager asked
anxiously.
         Mulder looked closely at Scully, taking in her confusion,
and debated with taking her to the hospital. He needed more
information first, he decided. 
  He well remembered the danger that hospitals could pose for
them. He turned back to Scully.
         "Scully, you need to answer me. Are you all right? Do you
need to see a doctor?"
         "I'm fine really. I don't need to see anyone." Scully was
actually shaking but didn't want the manager to see. She trusted
that she and Mulder could establish what was happening.
         Mulder hesitated another moment, then nodded. "We're
OK, here. I'll take care of notifying the police since this may
involve the case we're working on," he told the man who was
hovering in the background. It may or not be the exact truth but
Mulder was anxious to get rid of them.
         The agent walked the hotel employees out and murmured
reassurances as he all but shoved them out the door.
        
         Scully walked over to the bathroom and washed her face.
She felt so groggy. Drugged?  Could she have been drugged?
She remembered talking to her mother and feeling tired but then
events became hazy.
        
         "Scully?" Mulder came into the bathroom and pulled her
against him. She relaxed, reveling in the safety she felt when
she was in his arms. "We need to talk," he murmured into her
hair.
    
    "No," she pulled away from him, not really wanting to, but not
able to stay so close to him.  "I don't know what happened." 
Everything in her told her she didn't want to know, either.  Her
father had always said, don't ask unless you really want to hear
the answer.  And, for the moment, Scully wasn't asking.
    
      He watched her walk across the room, glancing from the TV
to the phone.  The tiny frown of her face, the slump of her
shoulders, they told him what must have happened.  "Okay,
Scully, let's talk about something else then."
    
    "The case?"  Her eyes were distracted by some point just
beyond the wall behind Mulder.  "I didn't get a chance to read
the reports yet."
    
    Mulder's throat tightened.  Something must be horribly wrong
with her.  Even when she was falling apart, even when the world
came crashing down around her, Scully *always* got her work
done.  She put it in front of everything.  The consummate
professional.  But she stood before him now, hair messed,
blouse partially tucked in, the shine of bare legs under a
wrinkled skirt; just a shadow of the Scully he used to know.  He
tried to swallow.  "You didn't read them?   Scully?"  
    
    "No, I just couldn't -"  She knew he was looking at her. 
Watching her every move.  She felt like a hunted rabbit that was
finally cornered in a cave.  The hungry red fox just inches away,
licking his jowls.  "Stop staring at me!"  Her shrill scream raised
goose bumps on the back of his neck.
    
       "I'm not," he stammered in reflex, and then he took a few
steps to her.  "Scully, I'm worried about you."  He reached for
her and she ducked through his grasp.  He tried to counter, but
the lamp she grabbed and held poised to throw at his head
stopped him in mid-stride.  "Scully."  He tried to use the most
calming voice he had, "I'm not going to hurt you."
    
     "Stay away from me!"
    
     "Please listen to me, " he inched towards her, his palms up to
show her he meant her no harm.  "Scully, you've been under a
lot of stress recently."
    
     "You think I'm crazy!"
   
     "No!  I don't think that."
    
      Her face twisted and tears swelled in her eyes, "You do! 
You're trying to get rid of me."
    
     "Dana, I'm trying to help you."
    
     "You're going to leave me!  You're going to run away."
  
     "I would never leave you, you know that, Scully."
  
     Her pitch screeched higher than Mulder thought was humanly
possible.  "Don't call me Samantha!!!"
  
     "What?" he shook his head, taking another step towards her. 
"I said Scully.  Scully.  Dana."
    
     "NO!" she screamed and hurled the lamp at him, "I don't
need your help!"  The cord caught behind the small table and
the lamp fell short of its target.  With a loud crash it shattered on
the carpet, sparks sprinkling the inside of the shade for the
instant it took the bulb to burst in the socket.  
    
     Chest heaving from exertion, Scully looked from the lamp up
to Mulder who wore an expression of shock, apprehension, and
fear.  "Mulder?"  Her unsteady whimper pulled his attention to
her, "What's happening to me?"
    
     His mouth opened, but the words didn't form.  Blankly, he
shook his head.  There was no answer to give her.  "I'm so tired,
Mulder."  The energy drained from her body, and as her knees
gave out, she fell forward to the floor.  She was able to brace
herself before her head hit the body of the ceramic lamp. 
Mulder was at her side a moment later.  He scooped her limp
body in his arms and carried her to the bed.  "I can hardly
move."
    
     "Just lay still, Scully.  I'm going to get you some help."  He
dialed the Lone Gunmen's number and waited while it rang.
    
     "I'm glad I didn't hurt you, Mulder," her speech began to slur,
"I don't want to hurt you."
    
"I know, Scully.  Just relax.  I'm going to take care of
everything."  He heard the click of the receiver on the other line
being picked up, and Langley's standard LGM greeting.  "It's
Mulder.  I need your help.  Are there any doctors in Chicago that
you trust?"
    
     "There aren't many doctors that I trust.  Period.  Why? 
What's up?"
     
     Mulder looked down at the woman on the bed.  Her heavy
lidded eyes trying to follow the one-way conversation.  "There's
something wrong with Scully.  I don't want to take her to the
hospital."
    
     Mulder heard another extension being picked up.  "What's
wrong with Agent Scully?"  Frohicke's voice mirrored Mulder's in
concern.
    
     "Just tell me, do you know any doctors in the Chicago area
that you'd trust with her?"
    
     "Depends on the symptoms," Frohicke said, "Is it physical? 
A lot of pain?"
    
     "No, not this time."  Scully's eyes finally closed, and her face
relaxed in to sleep.  "Wild mood swings.  Violent behavior.  Uh,
maybe some memory loss -"
    
     Frohicke cut him off, "Sudden fatigue?"
    
     Mulder nodded, "Yeah."
    
     "Call a man there, he's just outside of the city, his name is
Stanley Moore.  Tell him I told you to call, and he'll make a
house call.  Uh, let me get the number for you -"
    
    ********************


The space between heaven and earth,
how like a bellows it is!
Empty but never exhausted,
The more it pumps, the more comes out.
Hearing too much leads to utter exhaustion;
Better to remain in the center.

-Tao Te Ching



Room #618
8:39 PM.

  
       Two hours later, Dr. Stanley Moore stood over Scully in the
bed.  He was a short man, possibly 5'2" with sparse white hair
and a round face.  Everything was round about him, his face, his
hands, his cardigan-covered belly.  Searching through the large
leather satchel he brought with him, he pulled out a hypodermic
needle and several tubes.  
    
     Mulder watched him work over Scully.  Taking several vials
of blood, some swabs of skin, samples of saliva, nail and hair
-"Hey, is that necessary?" Mulder interjected when Dr. Moore
put the scissors to her beautiful reddish strands.
    
     "I need to do a chemical analysis," he responded in a cheery
tone.  Way too cheery for Mulder to be comfortable with.  "Don't
worry son, I'll take a little from the back.  She'll never know it's
missing."
    
     He checked all of the cursory stuff, like pulse and blood
pressure and the normal things Mulder always had to go through
whenever he ended up at the doctor's office, or hospital, or
emergency room, or wherever.  But then, the little man took off
her shoes and began moving her toes around.  Then he moved
up her calves.  Then behind her knees.  "What are you doing?" 
    Mulder eyed him warily.
    
       "Just checking.  You wouldn't happen to know when her last
cycle started," Dr. Moore turned to Mulder with a smile, "would
you?"
    
       "No."  The brows lowered over Mulder's eyes.
    
       "Hmmm." Dr. Moore hummed to himself.  "Help me roll her
over on to her front."  
    
       "Okay," Mulder obliged, and made a mental note to call
Frohicke and ask just where he knew this guy from, as he hiked
up the back of her skirt and began to squeeze the flesh on the
back of her thighs.  "What the hell are you looking for?"  The
irritation in Mulder's voice was obvious.
    
       "Inconsistencies, discoloration, scars.  The fatty tissues
keep a fairly accurate record of the traumas the body goes
through.  The back of the knees, the tendons tell me how her
mineral diet has been."  His round fingers brushed her hair from
her neck.  Slowly he felt down her spine to her tail bone, and
then back up to the little scar just off center on the base of her
neck.  "She has the scar."  He looked up at Mulder, his
demeanor suddenly serious.  "Where is the implant now?"
    
       Mulder shrugged, startled by the man's abrupt contrast
manner.  "She has it somewhere.  You know what it is?"
    
       "No."  The doctor stood and removed his glasses.  The he
removed a small notebook from one pocket and began to
scribble down his findings.  
    
       "You've seen this before, though?"
    
       "I'll discuss it with you and Ms. Scully when she regains
consciousness."  He replaced the notepad.  "Help me roll her
back over, please."  Mulder straightened her body out on the
bed, and covered her with the hotel comforter.  Then he turned
back to Dr. Moore, who had collected his things.  "Expect to
hear from me by tomorrow evening."
    
       "What do I do in the mean time?"
    
       The man shrugged, "She probably won't remember much
when she wakes up.  Tell her I was here,"  he headed for the
door, "And keep all potential weapons away from her.  If there
are any bullets in that gun, I'd remove them now if I were you."
    
       Mulder stopped the door from closing, "Isn't there some
sedative or something that you could give her?  To help her
through until tomorrow night?"
    
       Shaking his head, Dr. Moore demanded, "No chemicals. 
Her body is in a tremendous state of shock right now.  Nothing
with additives or preservatives.  And no drugs.  You hear me?"
    
       Mulder nodded.  
    
       Back in the room he checked in on the sleeping Scully and
picked up the brown leather handbag next to the night stand. 
After a full minute of internal struggle, he plunged his hand in
her purse, pulled out her gun, and removed all the bullets from
the chambers.  "it's for your own good, Scully.  And my safety."
    
    ***********************
    
January 30, 1996.
Room #618.
12:56 AM.
  
      It was hours before Scully woke again.  The sun had long
since gone down, and the dinners that Mulder ordered from
room service were cold and flavorless.  She sat on the beige
couch, legs sprawled out before her, trying to keep her head
from spinning.  "I feel like I've been asleep for days," she
moaned and pushed away the plate Mulder had been trying to
tempt her with.
  
       "About six hours."  Mulder studied her face to make sure the
time frame registered on her face.  It did.
  
       "Did you find any new leads with the witnesses?"
  
       "Uh . . . possibly," Mulder hadn't expected her to go right in
to the case as if nothing had happened.  "There were two young
women who believe they saw the body being dumped."
  
       Scully sat up mid-stretch, "That's a good lead!"
  
     "Well, not exactly, they're both homeless, one has a baby,
and both have been arrested in the past for drug possession, so
sofa, in to the most unlady-like of positions.  It wasn't that
Mulder minded being able to see up her skirt, but he was sure
she was oblivious to the fact that he could.  "Anyway, they may
agree to drug testing and a polygraph, so we'll see."
  
       Rubbing her brow, Scully asked, "Why in the hell would they
agree to that?"
  
       "They heard about the reward."
  
       "Reward?"  It wasn't standard Bureau policy to offer a
reward on case involving Agents.  Or was it?
  
       "Uh, Scully," Mulder took a deep breath, "earlier, when you
trashed the room-"
  
       "When I what?!"  Her eyes rounded when she saw the
gravity on his face.
  
       "The TV, the flowers," he pointed to the bare space against
the wall, "and the lamp," his hand referred her to the dark blue
lamp that obviously didn't match the decor of the room, "you
smashed them all up and passed out."  Her head shook "No" but
she sat silent, furrowing her brow in the attempt to remember
what he was describing to her.  "Well, I didn't know what to do,
Scully.  I mean, you never loose control like that, and, I . . . well,
I was worried as hell."  He sat down next to her on the sofa, "I
called Frohicke -"
  
       "You WHAT?"
  
       "And he gave me the name of a doctor -"
  
       "I don't need a doctor, Mulder, I'm fine."  She stood and
marched in to the bathroom.  Mulder followed.
  
       "Well, he came anyway -"
  
       The cold water splashed on to her face, before the phrase
Mulder had muttered sank in.  "He came here?"  She looked
down at her arm.  There was a small Band-Aid where blood had
been drawn.  Why hadn't she noticed that before?  Her fingers
went to it, and found the wound still sore.  Her breath caught in
her throat and she swayed a little.  Mulder caught her before she
could loose her balance and helped her to sit on the toilet lid.
"It's like before."  Her voice was nothing more than a whisper. 
"They took part of me without asking, and I didn't remember. 
But I know they did.  I know . . .."  She looked up to find Mulder
kneeling in front of her.  "You were here, and you let him do this
to me?"
  
       Before he could answer, she back-handed him hard with her
left - much harder than she had intended - and ran from the
room.  "Scully, wait!"  Her coat was in hand, and her purse,
when he stopped her at the door.  "Let me explain!"
    
       "Get the hell away from me, Mulder!"  She tried to open the
door, but he slammed it shut again.  He was taller than she was,
and physically stronger.  "Mulder, don't make me do something
we'll both regret!"
  
       "Scully, you do what ever you think you have to do, but
you're not leaving his hotel room."
  
       "Are you holding me hostage?"
  
       "No, Scully," he tried to keep his voice reasonable, "you're
sick - and don't tell me that you're not!  Tomorrow we'll hear
back from Dr. Moore, we'll know more then."
  
       "I'm not staying another second here with you!"
  
       "Fine!"  Mulder's voice was rising, "then I'll leave.  But
Scully, please, don't do anything that might hurt you."
  
       "So tell me," her words struck at him like a snake, "when
that doctor was here, were you just standing and watching, or
did you jump right in and hold the syringe?"

     "I don't deserve that, Dana!"

     "NEITHER DID I!"  Her voice cracked from the power of her
yell.  For a moment they both stared at each other, neither
willing to blink, then all at once the phone rang and cut in to the
silence.
  
     Scully reached for it, tearing her eyes away from her
partner's face and the look of hurt and worry she saw there.
     "Scully," she said into the mouthpiece.
       "Agent Scully? You feeling better?" asked Frohike. "I'm
surprised you're up and around so soon." 
       "I'm just fine," she responded in a tight voice. "I assume you
want to talk to Mulder." She could barely refrain from throwing
the phone across the room but managed to hand it to him. 
"Forhike, too?!"  She then marched into the bedroom.
       "Mulder," he said as he watched her stiff back walk away
from him. At that moment, he had an impression that made it
seem she was going much further than the next room.
       "She sounds upset."
       "Yeah, you could say that. What do you want?"
       "Dr. Moore get there?"
       "Yeah," Mulder said but was rapidly losing patience.
"Look...."
       "And?" Frohike's concerned voice interrupted.
       "He said he'd get back to us tomorrow evening. Where do
you know this guy from?"
       "He's a researcher out of Northwestern, though he was at
NIH for a long while. He's into studying  the biochemistry of
retroviruses. Got his MD from Johns Hopkins. His private
research though involves studying the aftereffects of
abductees."
       Mulder paled and tightened his grip on the phone, sending a
guilty glance in the direction of the bedroom. He had not heard
any movement in there for some time.
       "Mulder? Mulder, are you still there?"
       "Yeah. Are you telling me that Scully fits Moore's profile?"
       "I'm sorry, Mulder, but from the symptoms you described...."
       "Wait a minute," Mulder cut in, "Why haven't I read about
this?"
       "You probably have but didn't know the full story. Moore will
be able to fill you in about it in greater detail. It seems there's a
small group of abductees who go through physical and/or mental
changes, sometimes pretty drastic ones. Those are the ones
Moore studies." There was a pause on the phone, then a quiet,
"I'm sorry, Mulder."
       
       Mulder hung up the phone, fingers suddenly nerveless and
he groped his way to the couch.
          * But you're fine, aren't you Scully? *
       His words came back to him as he thought about their
conversation upon her return from Allentown when she had told
him about Bessy Hagopian's condition.
          * But I don't think you should freak out until we find out
what this thing is. *
       She had been so worried but he had brushed it aside almost
casually, too afraid of what might happen. Too wrapped up in
your own investigation, jerk, his conscience reminded him.
       And now - what was going to happen now?
  
       Mulder glanced around the suite's living room, seeing the
broken lamp and the wreck of the television, the smashed vase
and felt his life - and much worse: the woman he loved -
crumbling into a similar ruin.
  
       He walked into the bedroom to find Scully sitting on the
bed, case files spread around her. She was in her nightwear, her
glasses sliding halfway down her nose as she read.
     Watching her, he could barely reconcile his memories of her
fury to the detached professional who sat before him. How am I
going to tell her? Should I tell her?

     "I need your account of whatever information you got at the
station today so I can add it to the notes," she said, refusing to
look at him.
     "Scully, I...," he started quietly but stopped unsure of what to
say. Instead, he moved across the room to crouch next to the
side of the bed where she sat up against the headboard.
     She tried to evade him by scooting across the bed but he
was faster and grabbed her hands, forcing her to face him.
     "Scully, we need to talk."
     "The only thing I'm willing to discuss with you, Agent Mulder,
is your report about this
afternoon's interviews. Now take your hands off me."
     He dropped her wrists as if the coldness in her voice burned
him. "Dana, don't do this," he pleaded.
     "Don't do what? Don't stop you from setting all the rules?
Don't protest when you let a
stranger take bits and pieces away from me and put them in
little glass tubes? What exactly don't you want me to do?" Her
questions were all the more chilling for the quietness of her tone.
     Mulder took a deep breath and stepped away from her, his
own anger starting to build.
     "Scully, I'm not sorry I called Dr. Moore. I know you feel like I
I've violated your privacy but you used to trust me; trust that I'd
watch your back, trusted that I trusted you. You can be as angry
as you want but I will take care of you, just like you've taken
care of me." He gave her a tentative smile. "Be glad I didn't
have to shoot you."

     She had no defense against this tactic. If he had yelled, if he
had tried to defend his actions in any other manner, she would
have.... What would I have done, she wondered. Feeling more
clear headed than she had in days, Scully considered the
destruction she had caused to the hotel room, the way she'd
been behaving to Mulder and even to her mother. Something
was definitely wrong with her and she needed to assume her
judgment had also been impaired.
     And here is Mulder, she thought. He looked at her with an
open gaze not bothering to hide his worry, anger or his love. She
could almost sense him willing her to believe in him, to trust
him. She returned his look, measuring his options, their history,
her love.
     Without another word she held out her arms to him and was
rewarded with his moan of relief. Files and notes were scattered
in his rush to hold her. He gathered her to him, just delighting in
the feel of her against him. She'll be all right, he repeated to
himself, again and again, like a mantra. She'll be all right.
     "Dana, we need to talk," he murmured into her soft hair, still
damp from her shower.
     "No," she whispered. "Not yet." And brought her lips up to
meet his.  It had been weeks since he had really held her.  The
way she felt with his arms firmly around her; her hungry mouth
kissing his neck and face.  He worked hard to keep his mind
focused on the problems at hand.  But her hands running down
the inside of his briefs were hard to ignore.  He felt a wash of
heat bleed through him.  "We can talk after," she mumbled in his
ear.  Any further protests were swallowed up by the night.

******************

Room # 618.
6:45 AM.
     

     Morning came too quickly for Mulder.  The sound of the
shower water turning off woke him, and an instant later he was
on his feet, knocking on the door.  "Just a minute."  She
sounded almost like herself.  The door opened and Scully
walked out, towel around her hair and torso.  "All yours," she
sang lightly as she passed.

     "Uh . . . good morning."  Mulder watched her pull her ugly
green suit from the closet.  Then she retrieved a pair of hose
from the suitcase.  "Scully, I can handle the stuff at the police
station, why don't you get caught up on the autopsy reports
today?"

     Shaking out her hair, she nonchalant shrugged, "I know you
can handle it, Mulder, but I'm coming with you."  She didn't wait
for his approval or even his response.  She was an adult,
capable of making her own decisions.  Besides, she was feeling
really wonderful after the frenzied love-making session the night
before, and a solid eight hours sleep.

     After a few moments of Mulder searching for a non-
confrontational way of persuading her to stay in the hotel room,
she cut in to the silence, "Besides, Mulder, I don't know how I'd
explain it to Skinner if I broke another lamp."  The statement
had been intended to be funny, but it hung in the air like smog,
choking them both.  Quietly, she put down her blouse and sat on
the end of the bed.  "Please.  Please don't leave me here again. 
I need to work, Mulder.  I need some semblance of *my life*
back in my life."

     Mulder sat beside her, arms touching, staring down at the
floor like she did.  "I've been thinking, Scully, we don't really
need to investigate this case.  You and I both know what
happened.  *Who*  is responsible.  They'll never be caught. 
They're not supposed to be.  In a few days we'll be called back
to DC, no closer to a solution-"

     "We have to try, though, don't we?  We can't just give up."

     Under any other circumstances, he would have said yes, but
given Scully's new condition, he wasn't so sure anymore.  The
path that they had both willingly followed in their search for the
truth had become too costly of late.  Scully was the only thing he
had left to loose, and she was the one thing he couldn't afford to
give up.  He forced himself forward,  picking up his tempo a
little, "And it doesn't really matter what that Dr. Moore says,
either.  We should just get in the car and drive.  Somewhere far
away from here.  Canada, maybe.  Somewhere where they've
never heard of the FBI, or government cover-ups, or aliens."
 
     Her head turned to him, "You can't be serious."

     "Why not?  If anyone deserves a little happiness in their
lives, it's gotta be us.  We've saved up for it.  The way I figure it,
we're both due for non-stop bliss for the next fifty years."  

     The way his face lit up, and the urgency in his eyes told her
that he was not only serious, but that he'd given the matter a lot
of thought.  "Mulder . . ." her voice carried a tone of caution,
"what aren't you telling me?"

     He stood, hoping that a little distance might give him the
strength to tell her about the symptoms she was exhibiting, and
how they matched the profile of abductees - about how they
would most certainly get worse and not better.  But the small
distance between them created a pressure on his chest, that
kept him mute.  When he did finally say something, it was only
to tell her he'd be out of the shower in ten minutes, and would
she order up some coffee from room service?

     Scully could see the gap between them opening like a rift.



*******************
 
Chicago, Ill.
Interstate 10.  
7:25AM. 

     "When will they arrange for the polygraphs?" Scully asked as
they drove to the police station.
     "Sometime in the next forty-eight hours. They were hoping
for today but the witnesses
wouldn't commit. There was talk of holding them on drug
charges but I convinced the locals to back off. I'd rather have
cooperative witnesses than coerced ones."
     Scully nodded and lapsed back into the uncomfortable
silence that had haunted them all
morning. Things were changing too fast for her. Last night they
seemed to have reclaimed their happiness, their closeness and
yet it had all disappeared with the light of day. Why won't he talk
to me? Why don't you ask him, a small voice asked in return. I
can't, was her simple reply.
     Mulder noticed her withdrawal but couldn't think of how to
prevent it without dumping his worries on her. He knew nothing
definite to tell her and was fearful  that speculation would only
make a bad situation worse. Talk to her, a voice whispered in his
head. I'm afraid.

****************

Chicago, Ill.
Police Precinct #17.
6:05 PM.


     Mulder sat on one of the uncomfortable benches outside the
woman's rest room on the main floor of the Police Station.  It
was the end of a long day that proved uneventful and
frustratingly non-productive for both agents.  They'd spent hours 
wading through files of similar, out-standing cases, hoping to
find a connection. They both knew it was an exercise in futility.
     With a bored flick of his tie, he pulled out his buzzing cellular. 
"Mulder."

     "Fox, it's Margaret."

     He instinctively sat up straighter.  "Mrs. Scully, is everything
okay?"

     "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me.  I spoke with Dana the
day before yesterday, and she sounded . . ..  Is she feeling all
right?"

     Mulder closed his eyes, questioning how much he should tell
her.  He knew he couldn't lie and insist that everything was
perfectly normal - and not to worry.  Margaret would see through
that and the deception, no matter how well intended, would
worry her more.

     "Fox?"

     "She's not feeling well, no.  But I've had her see a doctor
here, and I'm sure everything will be fine."  He could sense the
hesitation of the woman on the other end of the line.  "Margaret,
I'm with her.  Don't worry.  I'm making sure she's taking it easy." 
Scully took that opportunity to emerge from the restroom.  "Here
she is, now."


     She exhaled, "Hi, Mom,"  with as much cheer as she could
muster.  "I'm sorry I didn't call you back.  Things have gotten a
little . . . out of hand here."
     "That's okay, sweetie.  I was just worried, so I called to see
how you're feeling.  Are you getting enough sleep?"

     "Yes, Mom.  Don't worry.  Really.  I'm feeling better today,
anyway."

     "All right, dear.  But when you get back to Washington, I want
you to come over for dinner.  I want to see you.  I miss you,
Dana."

     The sentiment touched a smile to her lips.  "That sounds
great.  I'll see you soon, Mom."  Scully hit the disconnect button
and tossed Mulder his phone.  "Let's get out of here, Mulder. I'm
starving." 
     
     "Sounds like a plan, Dr. Scully," Mulder replied, giving her a
lop-sided grin.
     After a brief hesitation, she grinned in return, then sighed.
"When is Dr. Moore meeting us at the hotel?" she asked quietly.
     It was Mulder's turn to be serious. "I'm not sure. He wasn't
very specific."
     Scully nodded thoughtfully, took a deeper sigh as if coming
to a decision, then plunged ahead. "Mulder, I want you to know it
was the right choice to bring me here today. As irrelevant as all
this was," pointing to the files, "it was good for me to stay busy
and to be with you. Whatever he tells us tonight, being with you
will always be good for me."
     Mulder felt his throat tighten at her words lost in her blue
eyes. He really didn't deserve her, he reminded himself.  "If it
weren't for me..."  But the idea went unfinished. It led only to a
dead end and he was so tired of dead ends. "We'll find a way,"
he vowed. A new determination showed in his face.
     "C'mon. Let's go eat," he said but Scully, looking in his eyes,
felt a warm glow at all the words left unsaid.

****************


Sincere words are not beautiful,
Beautiful words are not sincere.
He who knows is not learned,
He who is learned does not know.

-Tao Te Ching



Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
7:15 PM.

     Dr. Moore bounced in to the room and with a light chuckle he
took Scully's hand in his and shook it generously.  "Good to see
you up and about!"

     "Thank you," she tried to hide the sense of violation that
pulsed through her at the realization that this man was in the
bedroom with her the day before while she had been
unconscious.  A cold shiver traveled up her spine and her skin
puckered.  None of this was lost on the doctor's keen
observation skills.

     "Let's sit down," he said, more as a general comment than a
suggestion.  He lowered his heavy body on to the sofa,
indicating Scully should sit beside him.  Mulder took a seat on
the love seat to their left.  "First off," he began to pull papers out
from his bag, "I must commend you, Miss Scully, you are in
excellent physical shape."

     "Thank you," Scully said impatiently.

     "What's wrong with her?"  Mulder  asked, his voice edged
with his intensity.

     "It's not what's wrong, Mr. Mulder, it's what isn't right."  He
leafed through several of the print outs, first handing them to
Scully before he continued.  "First off, there are a variety of
chemical and hormonal imbalances occurring. As I'm sure you
are aware, the body's systems act as a check and balance on
each other- one thing goes out of kilter and other systems kick in
to compensate. What seems to be happening in Agent Scully's
body is more of an 'overcompensation'. And the cycle is
escalating. Her corticotropin level is way off. Ammonia's up
slightly and the SGPT, SGOT and bilirubin are also elevated."

     "Speak English!" Mulder was at the end of his tether.

     As Scully was lost in reading the analysis of her blood
chemistry, Moore tried to explain. "There seems to be several
problems happening at the same time. The corticotropin or
ACTH level is a measure of how much epinephrine, you'd call it
adrenaline, is present. It's higher, much higher, than it should
be. This causes tenseness, palpitations, over-aggressiveness.
Over time, it can cause severe fatigue, blackouts, other mental
difficulties. Some of the other blood work suggests some, um,
issues regarding Agent Scully's liver. The liver, among other
things helps to purify the blood of toxins."

     Mulder watched Scully sit back in the couch.  In her eyes, the
lights of her brain working,  flickered.  "So what caused this?" he
asked.

     "What's causing the blood work or what's causing the
cause?"

     Mulder looked confused but Scully looked stricken. She
cleared her throat, trying to remove the lump she found there. "It
could be a tumor of the adrenal gland causing the high ACTH
level. The liver damage could be caused by a number of things."
She fought to keep her voice level as her mind screamed the
various ailments that could be wrong with her.

     "Why is all this happening now?" asked Mulder, his eyes
never leaving Scully's face.

     "My guess is the implant.  Or the removal of it."  Scully's
entire body shifted from Moore.

     "What do you know?" demanded Scully.

     "Relatively little, I'm afraid.  I've done some research on a
handful of woman . . . who have found themselves in similar
situations.  They seem to effect each individual differently,
producing a wide range of symptoms to various degrees."  He
rubbed is round chin for a moment.  "Most have physical
problems.  Cancer, hormonal imbalances, partial paralysis. 
Sometimes the woman will just have an inconvenient tick, or
develop allergies to common things she may have lived with all
of her life. We're not sure whether or not the symptoms would
have developed if the implant had been left in place since they
are inevitably removed when found."

     "Uh," Scully worked the question out of her mouth, "do the
symptoms ever . . . diminish?"

     "Not that I've seen."  Dr. Moore fished in his bag for a small
blue folder and handed it to the paled woman beside him.  "This
is what I have so far. It's not much." Scully reached for the folder
as if he were handing her a live snake.

     "What can we do now?" Mulder questioned.
     "More tests for a start. See just what we're up against."
     "And in the long-run?"
     "Mr. Mulder, there are no easy answers to this. I've talked to
a dozen women. They are all sick, some seriously so. In almost
all cases, their conditions are worsening. I've even toyed with
the notion of trying to re-implant the damn things to see if I could
stop the progression."
     "No! I won't have them using me like that!" yelled Scully,
crossing the room to lean against the wall where the TV had
been.  She would rather have her body turn against her and die
than to live as *their* human guinea pig.
     "I'm not sure it would work in any case," placated Dr. Moore.
"But I would recommend checking into a hospital for CT scans
and more extensive blood work."
     "No, no hospitals," murmured Scully, visions of Frank
Kellogg's lonely figure rising in her mind's eye like a specter.

     "Isn't there some kind of pills you can give her?"  Mulder was
clutching at straws, trying hard not to face just exactly what the
little man was saying.

     "No.  The more chemicals in her body, the worse off she'll
be, I'm afraid.  Her body is trying to regulate itself - that's why
she seems better today. If we start adding medications without a
clear understanding of what's going on, we could shut her down
completely."

     Scully's face twisted in agony, "Stop talking like I'm not in the
room!"

     "Oh dear."  Moore rolled to a standing position and calmly
walked to her, "I had no intention of dismissing you, my dear." 
His voice was rounded and paternal and to Scully's surprise, she
found herself embracing him.  "There, there," he patted her back
to calm her, "this has all been a lot to deal with at once."  She
pulled away and nodded.  

     "What should we expect?" asked Mulder.
     "Anything. Good days, not so good days. I understand your
reluctance to go to the hospital, my dear," he said as he patted
her shoulder. "I'm assuming, since you contacted me through
Frohike, there are certain... security problems. However, these
symptoms cannot be ignored. There are a few more tests I can
do but I'm limited in terms of diagnostics."

     Mulder walked over and took Scully's hand. "Dana, it's your
call. We can shuck this case, get you into a hospital and see
what's up. I'll be there. You won't be left alone."
     "No, I want to see this through, Mulder. If there's any way, I
want to finish this investigation."

     Mulder spent a moment searching her face trying to find the
answers they needed. Without taking his eyes from her, he
asked," Is there a danger in her continuing to work?  Maybe you
should go back to DC, Dana."

     "My boy, there's a danger in either case. Send her back and
whoever did this may be able to access her again. Keep her
here to work on the case and her symptoms may get worse."

     "You said they might get worse whether I'm here or not,"
Scully interjected.

     "True."

     "Dana?" Mulder asked.

     "I want to stay."

     Mulder nodded. They would see this through together.

     "Very well," said Dr. Moore. "I'll do what I can from here.
There are certain markers I know to look for which seem to
indicate when the symptoms will get worse. You have my
number if something happens and I'll check in with you
tomorrow night to draw more blood."

     Mulder stood and helped the chuckling man collect this bag. 
"Thank you for coming, Doctor."

     "Not at all.  Frohicke said she was a special lady.  And there
aren't too many of those around these days."  He turned to
Scully and looked deep in to the darkness of her eyes, "Write it
all down.  Keep a log.  Notice the patterns."  

     "I will."

     Once Moore left there was an air of uncertainty in the room. 
Neither of them knew what to do next.

     "Maybe you should go back to your room, Mulder," she said
without much conviction.

     "You're kidding right?" He walked over and wrapped his arms
around her tiny frame.

     "No. We decided and people might find out and there'd be
talk," she knew she was rambling as the words tumbled from her
mouth.

     He gently cupped her chin in his fingers and lifted her head.
"We were wrong, Scully. I was wrong. I don't care who knows
we're together. It just doesn't matter anymore. I realized that
when Moore was here." He dropped a feather light kiss on her
lips. "We will find out what we can here and then concentrate on
fixing you."

     "I'm not a car, Mulder," she grinned.

     "We will fix you and then we will deal with whatever
consequences they try to pull about us being together. Is this
clear, Agent Scully?"

     "Like crystal, Agent Mulder," she said, pulling his head down
for a deeper kiss.

********************

January 31, 1996.
Room # 618.


    The phone call came in at about 4 AM.  "Agent Mulder, Janet
Filenstein is ready to talk.  She's here, and says she'll only talk
to you.  Says you promised her a safe place for her kid."

     "Uh . . ." Mulder sat up to pull himself completely awake. 
"Give her something to eat.  I'll be there as fast as I can."

     "She's got the baby with her.  What do I do with it?"

     Mulder ran a hand over his face.  "What are you talking

     "Well, I can't very well put the baby in the cell.  There are all
kinds of rules against that-"

     "Don't put her in a cell!"  Mulder's voice raised, "give her a
cot in an observation room.  Jesus!  She's not a suspect-"

     "We've got her on several counts of prostitution, drug
possession-"

     "Now you listen to me!"  Scully sat up beside him and tried to
follow the one sided conversation, "I am in charge of this
investigation, and if you do anything to upset this witness, I'll
have your badge permanently removed and surgically placed so
far up your ass you'll be shitting metal for the rest of your life."  

     The pause on the other side of the line told him either the
officer was sufficiently afraid of him, or trying to figure out just
what the hell that last bit meant.  Mulder wasn't quite sure
himself.  "We'll be waiting for you, Agent Mulder."  CLICK.

     "What's going on?"  Scully stifled a yawn.

     "Get dressed.  The witness is talking."

***********************

Chicago, Ill.
Police Precinct #17.

     The police station at 4:40 AM was surprisingly calm for being
in the heart of one of America's largest cities.  Only a handful of
officers sat at their respective desks, with the minimum of lights
illuminating the main level sending a hush over the entire
building.  With little effort, Mulder and his partner found the
small room Janet Filenstein was in.  She lay in the fetal position
on a cot in the corner of the room, cradling her infant against her
chest.  The young woman looked no older than, perhaps,
eighteen.  Her hair was filthy, as was the rest of her, and it hung
down over her face.  Scully knocked on the door to wake her.

     "Good Morning, Janet." Mulder sat at the table in the center
of the room, "They said you were willing to talk, now."  She
nodded briefly, crawling off the bed carefully, not waking her
child.  "Have a seat, then, and we'll get started."

     She collapsed in the chair opposite Mulder and turned to
Scully, "Who's she?"

     "I'm Agent Scully.  Agent Mulder's partner."  Scully's tone
was pleasant enough, but she made no attempt to uncross her
arms.  

     "I'm going to be recording this interview, Miss Filenstein, is
that okay with you?"

     She looked at the machine in the center of the table, already
blinking its red 'record' light, "Uh . . . I guess.  I'm just gonna tell
you what I saw.  Right?"

     "Right.  We just want to know the truth about what you saw."

     "Well," she looked down at the dirt under her fingernails, "I
was with my friend, Sil, and we where over at the dump, trying
to score some coats.  It gets cold at night, you know?"  She
looked up at Scully, but received no response from the cold,
blue eyes.  "So, we were at the dump, over near where the river
passes by the fence, and I sees this light, you know, like a star
or something, 'cept it's movin'.  And I says to Sil, "Hey, look at
that!"  And she says it's nothin' but a plane."  Her brow lowered
over her wide brown eyes, "But I didn't think it was no plane.  It
was movin' funny, you know, like a bug or somethin'.  And it
was gettin' closer.  Ol' Sil said it couldn't be gettin' closer or we'd
hear somethin', but I know that sometimes when planes go real
fast, they pass by you and they're gone before you ever heard
'em comin'."  Nervously, Janet slipped her hands under her legs,
"So anyway, like a minute later the light is huge, and I'm thinkin'
all of Chicago's gotta be seein' this, and it hovers over the far
side of the dump for like, I don't know, maybe 20 seconds, and
then it shoots off, straight up.  And Sil and I, we run over to
where it was, thinkin' the aliens must be dumpin' some pretty
heinous stuff if they're coming all the way to Chicago to do it!" 
She expected a laugh, but only received unblinking stares.  Her
stomach tensed, and she studied the scratches along the top of
the metal table.  "That's when we found that man.  Or what was
left of him, anyway."

     "Then what did you do?"  Scully asked with out the slightest
inflection.

     "We, uh, we figured that maybe there was some kind of
reward or something.  Or maybe his family would be so grateful
that they'd, you know, put us up for a couple of nights.  It's been
ages since I slept in a bed and had a real bubble bath."  Janet
saw the perfect beige polish on Scully's well-kept nails and
added, "I used to be a real person, too.  With a house and
friends."

     Mulder steered the emphasis back on the sighting.  "So the
light didn't make any sound?"

     Janet turned back to him, and then closed her eyes in
concentration.  "No.  Not at first.  But then when it got closer, it
looked more like a  big, black, corn chip, with really bright lights
on the bottom.  And it made a sound like the wind."

     Mulder watched her reaction.  "Are you sure it wasn't the
wind?"  

     "Uh-huh.  There was no wind that night.  The air was dead. 
Which, now that I think about it, is real unusual."

     "Did you see anyone at all?"  Mulder was completely caught
up in the senario unfolding in his head.

     "Naw, no one."

     "What about unusual smells?"

     Janet laughed, "Man, we were in the dump!"

     "Miss Filenstein, what were you on that night?"  Scully's
question bit the smile off Janet's face.

     "What?"

     "I asked, what kind of drugs and/or alcohol had you taken
that night?"  Mulder turned his head to try and hide his gritting
jaw.  Why was she doing this?  He should have made her stay
back at the hotel.  Scully was going to get the only witness they
had to close off completely.

     "I . . ."  The young woman stumbled, "We just . . . you know,
nothing major.  No brain warpers.  I know what you're thinkin',
Lady, but I seen it just like I said.  It happened.  It wasn't in my
head." 

     The anger in Janet's voice bounced right off Scully. 
"Um-huh."  She nodded, "And why did you decided to talk now? 
Why not yesterday?  or when you found the body?"

     The young woman's eyes grew wide with panic, and she
looked over to her baby on the cot.  "I don't know."  Her voice
was nothing more than a whisper.

     "Miss Filenstein," Scully caught her attention with the hard
edge on her name, "who told you to give us this story?"

     "No one!"

     "How long did it take you to memorize it?"

     "It's the truth!"

     "Do you know what will happen when we prove it's not?"

     Janet froze for an instant, and raised a defiant chin to
Scully's accusations, "You can take away my baby, and throw
me in the deepest, darkest prison you can find, and starve me
and beat me and it won't be anything I haven't experienced a
hundred times already.  I know what I saw.  And what I told you
is what I saw."

    Scully considered the woman, and then turned to leave.   
"Thanks for the ideas, Miss Filenstein.  We'll be in contact with
you." 

     Mulder watched the door shut behind his partner, and looked
back at the woman slumped forward on the table in front of him. 
"How long did they have you, Janet?"

     Her head shot up and she opened her mouth to deny the
time loss she'd experienced, the strange scars on her baby that
hadn't been there the day before, the unexplainable pain that
ached from deep inside her body.  But she saw in his eyes that
he knew that they were true.  That he believed her story.  "It
seemed like weeks.  Months, maybe, but Sil said it was more
like a few minutes."  She closed her eyes for a moment.  "You
said that you could give us someplace safe to stay.  For me and
my baby."

     Mulder nodded.  "You'll have to stay here, until I can set it
up."  Janet looked over at the infant sleeping soundly just a few
feet away.  "What about your friend, Sil?  Will she need a  place,
too?"

     Janet shook her head.  "No.  They took her last night.  And
didn't bring her back.  That's why I decided to take your offer. 
Sil's gone."

************************

6:01 AM.


     Mulder joined his partner at one of the empty desks.  Slowly
she stirred the hot coffee, and then took a sip.  "So," Scully
sighed, "did you pick up any more star-gazing tips?"

     "I believe her."  Mulder eyes the coffee, wanting to stop her
from drinking it.  Dr. Moore had said no caffeine.  But he held
back.

     "I know."  Scully took a deep breath, "We both know, Mulder,
that Frank Kellogg wasn't abducted by aliens.  Mulder, it was
Cancer Man and his friends-"

     "Why can't it be both?"

     Scully was exasperated.  "What are you saying?  That
Cancer Man is working *with* aliens from outer space?  That
after they kidnapped Frank from the hospital here, they gave
him to *aliens* and then once they were done with him, the
aliens brought him back *here* - of all places - and dumped the
body?"  

     "Think about it, it makes sense-"

     "No, Mulder, it's ludicrous!  This woman is covering for
someone.  Did you see the look of panic on her face?  She's
been threatened."

     "Yes."  Mulder jumped in, "I agree.  But not by someone.  I
think she's afraid that they'll come back for her."

     "Oh!  So now she's an abduction victim, too?  Mulder, not
everyone in the world has been abducted besides you!  This
woman has track marks so far down her arm, they show at the
bottom of her sleeves!"

     "You're not even going to consider the possibility?"  

     Scully sat back in her chair and sighed deeply.  "I just don't
She stood up and looked down at him in the chair, "And lucky for
her she found you."

     There was a moment of painful tension between them, and
then it melted in to a silent apology.  Scully backed away a few
steps and tried to clear her head.  "I didn't mean that last bit,
Mulder."

     "I think you did."

     She looked at him.  She had meant it.  "But I didn't mean it to
hurt you."

     "I think you did."

     She shook her head, "No."  Scully exhaled, "I don't want to
hurt you, Mulder.  But somehow, I always do."

*****************

Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
2:00PM


     The tense silence hung like a curtain between them in the car
as they drove back to the hotel. All the resolve of earlier
disappeared in the reality of the investigation and the harshness
of their argument. That's what's different, mused Scully. Before
we could argue from our own points of view and still respect the
journey; now, it's personal. She wasn't sure they could ever get
back to their old closeness. It was a long drive back.

     Neither agent spoke as they made their way up to the rooms,
Mulder hesitating briefly before sighing and following her
through the door. The hesitation did not go unnoticed.
     "You don't have to be here if you don't want to be. Go catch
up on your sleep. I'm OK," Scully said, her tone edgy.
     "We both need some sleep and some food," Mulder
temporized. "Dr. Moore said he'd be back at six." He glanced at
his watch. "That gives us four hours. You want me to order room
service?"
     "No. I'm not hungry. Besides, I should probably be fasting for
the tests, anyway," she said distractedly. She wandered around
the room, looking into drawers with an air of abstraction.
     "What are you doing?"
      "Nothing."
     "Scully?"
     "Nothing. Go to your room and get some sleep."
     "I'll sleep here."
     "No. I'm not tired and I'll just keep you awake. Go to your
own room." More than a hint of impatience crept into her voice.
     "I'll be fine here." Mulder held himself still as he watched her
increasing agitation.
     "I don't want you here. I need some time alone."
     "Dana, I thought we'd agreed that we didn't have to separate
anymore. I'll be in the bedroom and you can stay out here if you
want some privacy," he said quietly, reasonably.
    
     Scully struggled to maintain her control. She could feel the
anger just under the surface, fighting to break through, making
her tense, clouding her judgment. He was right. She didn't really
want him to leave, did she? She shook her head, trying to clear
the confusion. Damn! She had been feeling better, more like
herself but now.... Breathe, just breathe! She could almost hear
Missy coaching her through the anger, "Let it go, Dana, breathe."
Missy, oh god, Missy . . .. Scully brought her hands up to her
face as the felt the tears stinging her eyes and closing her
throat.

     Then he was there, holding her, being there for her. So
strong yet gentle. Knowing instinctively when it was time to give
her space and when she needed his strength. Scully leaned into
his chest, resting her weight against his frame. A wave of
weariness overtook her. She was so tired . . ..

****************


The Way is empty, yet never refills with use;
Bottomless it is, like the forefather of the myriad creatures.
It files away sharp points, unravels tangles, 
diffuses light, mingles with the dust.
Submerged it lies, seeming barely to subsist.

-Tao Te Ching 

Room # 618.

     She woke to find herself in bed with Mulder's familiar weight curled
around her. Her previous confusion seemed to have cleared and she felt her
stomach growling, reminding her of its need for nourishment. She glanced
at the clock. Five-thirty. Moore would be here soon.
     Scully slipped from under Mulder, several months of experience had
taught her how to do it without waking him, undressed, and stepped into
the bathroom. She had just enough time to shower.
     The steam made lazy whirls through the air currents as Dana allowed
the hot water to sluice over her body, draining away some of her tension. 
She felt herself relaxing in the heat and closed her eyes, feeling the
rivulets of water flow from her hair, down her back and over her breasts, 
falling in tiny cascades to her thighs and calves. She'd opened a pack of 
the hotel's French milled soap and inhaled its fragrance as she began to 
lather herself, giving herself over to the sensuality of the moment.
     Her mind wandered to another shower at an old inn she and Mulder had
found on one of their rare weekend get-aways. He had touched her lightly,
just here, she remembered, her slick fingertips trailing their way down
the sides of her breasts. And his thumbs flicked over my nipples. Memory
became action and she smiled as her rosy, peaks hardened. She was a little
surprised at the warmth starting between her legs as she remembered what 
else Mulder had done with his hands. She rubbed the soap over her belly 
with one hand, taking delight in the feel of her skin, slippery and wet, 
the other hand beginning to stroke the inside of her thighs.
     Her breath was coming a little quicker, a little harder, the warmth
spreading from deep inside to her stomach and down her legs. Her nipples
wore so taunt with her arousal, they were almost painful. Her fingers
moved up from her thigh and entered her center, moist with hot water, soap
and desire. A soft moan escaped her as she massaged her small, hard bud of
pleasure; the steam adding a dreamlike quality to what she was doing.
     They had placed candles around the bathroom that night and there was
slow music playing, she remembered. They had lost themselves in the
exploration of each others bodies and she could almost feel him enter her,
so vivid were her memories.
     She leaned back against the wall of the shower stall, most of the
chill swallowed by the steam. The water pressure was stronger now as the 
stream fell directly onto her breasts and stomach. Her fingers continued to 
rub, now softer, now harder, now faster, as the memories continued to play 
out in her mind. She involuntarily bucked against the urgency that was building
quickly and her tongue ran over her teeth and lips. She could feel the muscles in
her groin and thighs tighten as she orgasmed, a small cry signaling her release.
     Dana rested a moment, her breath slowly returning to normal, her
pulse quieting, before straightening and turning off the water. The small smile
playing on her face turned into an "O" of surprise as she pulled back the
shower curtain aside to find Mulder leaning against the sink, his eyes
dark with passion, his erection obvious through his black boxers. In silence,
he wrapped her in a towel and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck but not
asking for anything more.
     After a moment, Dana pulled away from him, her eyes questioning. "Why
didn't you join me?" Despite her anger and confusion from earlier, his
touch was still magic.
     "You were so beautiful," he whispered. "I couldn't...." He looked
away but had to return, his eyes bright with wonder. "You are so beautiful."
     She gathered him to her, kissing him hard on the mouth, her hand
reaching down between their bodies to stroke his manhood. His breathing
became more ragged as he picked her up and carried her to the bed, the
towel coming undone and falling away unnoticed. He fell on top of her, 
burying his face in her neck, his hand almost frantic in his fondling of 
her breast. Dana, with equal determination, was trying to remove his shorts, 
when they both froze at the sound of throat-clearing coming from the doorway.
     Dr. Moore stood there studiously counting the ceiling tiles while
making his presence known.
     Scully hissed her surprise and embarrassment as she desperately tried
to pull the blankets over her. Mulder used his body to shield her until she
was covered, but jumped up and after the physician, as Moore moved into the
sitting area of the suite.
     "How the Hell did you get in here?" Mulder asked, his voice rough
with anger.
     "Old trick I learned in my misspent youth. Granted these new locks
are a bit more complicated but...." The round man shrugged and grinned. 
"Relax, Agent Mulder. I knocked but I, um, guess you had your mind on other
things. I knew you were here from the desk clerk and when you didn't answer, I
became concerned. My apologies for the interruption."
     "That's all right," said Scully as she emerged from the bedroom
wearing a robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. Her face was a brilliant scarlet.
     "My dear, Agent Scully. I'm sorry for your embarrassment but please
don't give it another thought. In fact, I'm very pleased to find you both,
ah, getting along. I'd half expected you to be at each other's throats....
so to speak," he added as he recalled Mulder sucking on the neck of this
young woman before him.
     Scully blushed again but sent a guilty look to her partner as she
replayed their argument at the police station.
     "So, you have been fighting," Moore said, correctly interpreting her
look.
     "We're disagreeing on a certain witness' testimony," supplied Mulder
in a carefully contrived neutral voice.
     Scully looked away, biting her lip. 'Witness' is not what I'd call
her, she thought.
     "Witness? Something related to all of this?" Moore asked.  Mulder had
neither the time nor the inclination to fill the doctor in on the details
of their investigation. His trust went only so far.
     "Maybe." "Not really." They replied simultaneously. The agents looked
at each other then turned away with equal expressions of exasperation.
     "I see," said Moore, then added under his breath, "Not."
     "There's a woman who may have seen the return of a colleague's body.
She talked about seeing a bright light and feeling paralyzed. When the light
was gone, there was the body." 
     "A close encounter?" Moore's voice sounded eager.
     Oh God, not another one, sighed Scully. "The woman Agent Mulder is
referring to is a known drug user. By her own admission, she and her
friend were high on the night in question."
     "There were two witnesses?" Moore asked, apparently dismissing the
possibility of a drug induced hallucination. "Where's the other one?"
     Another hard look passed between the two agents. Mulder spread his
hands and inclined his head in mock defeat.
     "According to our 'witness', her friend has disappeared. Quite
conveniently." Scully was getting tired of discussing the topic.
     "Disappeared? Abducted?"
     That's it, thought Scully. "Dr. Moore, there is no evidence that this
woman is telling the truth. There is no evidence of an alien presence.
There is no evidence. Period!"
     "Scully," Mulder started until she whirled to round in on him.
     "You don't know anything about this woman, Mulder, except for her
criminal record, yet you're so ready to believe her, you'd concoct a whole
theory based on a government and alien conspiracy."
     "And you're so rigid, you'd deny your own experience and the evidence
of your own eyes. Hell, Scully, you deny your own memories rather than admit
you're wrong!"
     Scully's eyes widened and her face went red, then white. If he'd hit
her, she couldn't have been more shocked.
     "Enough!" Moore interjected. He pulled Scully's unyielding body over
to a chair and forced her to sit though she initially resisted. "Where is
this woman now and do you think she'd be willing to take a polygraph?"
     "We made arrangements for her and her baby to stay at the station
tonight and the polygraph is set up for tomorrow afternoon," replied
Mulder. "She's not too happy but we couldn't come up with anything better 
under the circumstances."
     "She has a baby?"
     "Yeah, a little girl," Mulder answered but his eyes were on his
sullen partner as she huddled away from them. "Scully...."
     Moore held up a restraining hand. "Agent Mulder, go make yourself
decent and get us some dinner. I also want you to arrange for me to take this
woman and her child to my home for the night. I have plenty of room and can
provide a certain measure of security."
     Mulder opened his mouth to protest but was again interrupted by
Moore's imperial manner. "I know all the arguments, Agent Mulder. Please spare me
the bureaucratic hocus pocus. I would guess you've both had occasions to work
outside normal channels so my involvement should not be a major blow to
your systems. Between the polygraph and certain, um, tests I may be able to do,
we should have a fairly good barometer of this woman's reliability. Now go
put your pants on, Mulder. I want to get Agent Scully's blood samples." The
rotund physician moved across the room and began rooting through his bag.
     With one further glance at Scully, Mulder stirred himself to follow
Moore's orders. Janet and the local police were both unhappy with her
staying at the station and Mulder was concerned about leaving the baby there as
well. While not totally agreeing with Moore, his offer was a definite option. He
decided to make the phone calls from the bedroom.
     Scully hadn't moved from her chair and barely heard the conversation
taking place around her. She wrapped herself in a cocoon of pain and
anger, afraid she might once again loose control and try to hurt herself or her
lover. All her energy focused inwardly, replaying his words, trying to
argue them away.
     "Agent Scully? Dana?" Moore's words were soft but penetrating, able
to cut through the protective layers Scully had buried herself under.
*Starbuck* She could almost hear her father calling her.
     "Why are we doing this to each other?" Dana asked in a small voice.
She was too tired to hide any more. Her pride was gone. "We're killing each
other with our words." She was helpless to hide the tears.
     "My dear Dana. There, there, go ahead and cry some." Moore put a
fatherly arm around the shaking woman, and made comforting noises.
     Scully gave a few final sniffs and pulled herself upright.
     "You love each other, don't you?" Moore asked but it really wasn't a
question.
     Scully stiffened in response, suspicion written in her face.
     Moore laughed. "Agent Scully, considering what I saw when I came in
here today and the way Agent Mulder hovered over you when I did my exam the
other night, it's rather obvious. I may be old but I'm not senile."
     The young agent blushed furiously but raised defiant, blue eyes to
the older doctor. "Yes, Mulder and I love each other. I don't see how that
concerns you."
     "Stand easy, my girl, stand easy. I'm not prying. But it can't be
peaches and cream for you both with all this going on and, well, I had a
daughter of my own once. If you want to talk this out, I'm here."
     There was something in his manner that struck a familiar chord in
Dana, something that had been missing from her life for a long while now. She
relaxed unknowingly in the warmth of his friendly gaze and slowly nodded,
acknowledging his conclusion. "It's not been easy, ever, but lately we've
been sniping at each other all the time. The words are out of my mouth
before I can stop them. The last few days...." She looked around the room, once
again noticing the empty space where the television had been.
      "You both seem to have resolved some of the conflict earlier," Moore
said with a sly gleam in his eye.
     This time Scully chuckled. "Yeah, well.... It's funny but despite
everything we're still able to...." She stopped as she caught was she was
about to say to a relative stranger.
     "Dana, your bodies are just taking over right now because your mouths
aren't working right," he explained gently. "You still have to love each
other and if you can't say it in words, it just comes out in other ways."
     "What if we can't get the words right? What if I keep getting sicker
and his being afraid pulls him further away?"
     "Life's too short for 'what ifs', Dana. You can lose an awful lot if
you worry about 'what ifs'."
     "You said you had a daughter," Scully said with sudden perception.
     "I did, and a granddaughter. I was too afraid by what I saw when I
was at NIH and let my fears drive them away. I haven't seen my daughter, Mary,
for ten years, and my little Amber since she was eight." His voice was
lost in his memories.
     "I don't understand. What did you see?"
     "What?" Moore looked up as if he'd forgotten her presence. "Oh,
nothing. A story for another time. The point is, Dana, learn to accept what's
happened and what's going to happen. There's little you can do about either thing.
Just worry about the now; it's all you have."
     Scully nodded. How many times had Melissa said the same
thing? And how many times had she fought against the idea?

****************

February 1, 1996.
Police Precinct #17.
3:47 PM.

     This was taking longer than they had expected. Scully
restlessly paced the small office while she waited for the results
of the polygraph which would no doubt prove that Janet was the
opportunist she thought. It was just too convenient of a story,
one which would certainly grab Mulder's attention and divert him
away from the men connected to Kellogg's death.
     The baby, was sleeping in a portable crib which the police
station had provided. Scully's temper flared briefly as she
remembered Mulder blithely volunteering her for baby-sitting
duty but she couldn't hold on to it. She didn't really want to
witness Janet making a liar out of herself.
     She watched as the tiny figure began to stir; jerky
movements of arms and legs not quite under control. Four
month olds were always so much fun, Scully thought. Funny
faces gave way to an odd intensity as they studied the features
of those around them. Too young to be worried about stranger
anxiety, babies this age lived totally in the moment, accepting
each sensation for what it was. Life should always be so simple.
She sighed as she thought of a line from the Tao which Melissa
had so painstakingly tried to teach her:
     The further one goes,
     The less one knows.
     God, if only she could find that kind of acceptance in herself. She
tried but it went against her nature. Her father used to say she was born
fighting. Now though, the more she fought,  the less she had to show for
her effort. There had to be another was to beat this.
     Cooing caught Scully's attention bringing her back from her gloomy
reflections. The baby was awake and very interested in pulling off her
socks.
     "Ah, no, little one. Let's leave those on. It's chilly in here,"
murmured Scully as she bent to pick up the baby. She hefted the child's
weight, noting that, though the baby cloths were worn in spots, they were
clean. Janet did at least that much for her child. Then again, they had
spent last night at Dr. Moore's. This might have been his influence.
     The baby seemed overjoyed to have someone paying attention to her.
She stopped pulling on her fingers and instead put them in Dana's mouth,
pinching her bottom lip. She laughed with delight as Scully moved her
mouth, making "ma-ma'"
sounds. The baby's pleasure was contagious and Scully found herself
giggling as she joined in the made-up game.
    Things had been so busy at work, Dana hadn't much time anymore for
visiting friends or family who had small children. She missed playing with
her nieces and nephews. Like many career women, she thought she would want
children of her own some day but it was always in some distant, future
time. Besides, to have children, one needed to find a father for them.
That required that there be a man in her life. Her eyes widened in
surprise. She had a man in her life. Fox? Fox as the father of her
children? Funny how she'd never put that together before. The thought gave
her a warm feeling.
    Stop it, Dana! She shook the small smile off her face, unaware of when
it had started. He's never talked about marriage, let alone fatherhood.
And that was assuming she even had a future. Right now that seemed like a
large assumption.
    She swallowed the lump in her throat as she gazed at the small person
she held so comfortably in her arms. It wasn't fair. Janet, a
single-mother, an admitted drug-user and prostitute, had this beautiful,
perfect baby while she and Fox... another shake of her head stopped that
unproductive line of thought.
     The gurgling baby was oblivious to the mood swings occurring in the
woman who held her. Tired of mouth and fingers, she became fascinated by
the gleam of Dana's red-gold hair. With a sudden lurch, she made a
two-fisted grab for the shining locks.
     "Ouch!" Scully yelped at the surprisingly strong tug. "Let go, little
one. That hurts."
     The baby laughed and pulled again.  She'd found a new game that
caused a larger reaction than the first.
     Sitting in a nearby chair, Dana forced the child to sit in her lap
while she disentangled hair and fingers. The change in the baby's
perspective brought her face-to-face with two - if not large, then
well-shaped - breasts. The shapes being both comforting and familiar. She
stared drooling intensely at Scully's chest, looking from one rounded
mound to the other.
     "Oh, no," Dana laughed. "I can't help you there."
     Usually, the sound of a human voice was enough to divert the infant's
attention but not this time. And Scully found the intensity of her focus
somewhat disconcerting. She tried to reestablish the finger game, and
then, in a desperate measure, even the hair-pulling game.  But the
salivating mess of baby was
undeterred from her focus. Instead, she smacked her lips. Scully
could feel the faint heat in her cheeks of a blush. This was getting
ridiculous.
     Without warning, the baby made a jerky lunge for Scully's left
nipple, mouth open and wet. Very wet.  Dana pulled her back, caught
between a laugh and a moan as she saw the round stain darkening the green
silk of her blouse. She knew she should have kept her suit jacket on.  
     Not taking kindly to the refusal, the little girl grabbed aimlessly
for her well-marked target.  Scully caught her hand before the grip of
death had her in its painful lock.  Unfortunately, Scully didn't realize
that this child was only using the hand as a diversionary effort.  With
the woman pulling her fist from one possible meal, she lunged forward,
mouth first, for the other.  A squeal of pain erupted from Scully, which
startled the child in to a frustrated cry.
     With an exhale, she admitted, "I'd help you if I could, sweet thing,
but I'm just not cut out for this mommy business."  She shouldered the
baby and gave it a series of comforting pats on the back while she rocked
her back and forth.  "You've got good aim, though," she allowed herself a
chuckle, "and you certainly are persistent.  I think you've been around
Mulder too long," and she began looking for something to dry the spots.
     "I don't think I'm always that accurate," laughed Mulder from the
doorway. "And I almost never drool."
     Scully blushed furiously as she now had two individuals focused
solely on her breasts. She was saved from further comment, however, when
Janet entered the room, behind Mulder.
     Taking in the marks and its locations on Scully's blouse, Janet
couldn't help a small grin. "I guess I better go feed her," she said,
collecting the baby from Scully's arms. She quietly moved into the
unoccupied office across the hall and shut the door.
     A minute later, Dr. Moore shuffled in to the room - stopping only
side-ways grin to Mulder - and spread his charts and test results from his
findings on Janet Filenstein and her child on the table in the center of
the room.  Scully, catching the look, calmly ran a hand over her face
before putting on her jacket; all the while making threatening eye contact
with Mulder daring him to comment.  Mulder couldn't help the grin as he
came up behind her and hung over her shoulder as she flipped through the
thick
report.  "She's clean," she said with a note of victory in her voice. 
"Everything here says she's completely normal."
     "Well, as normal as a twenty-four year old with a horrible diet, no
shelter, and negligible hygiene can be."  Dr. Moore reminded her.
     "Yes," Scully was insistent, "but there's no sign of any abduction -"
she threw an eye to Mulder, "whether alien or otherwise."
     Mulder chewed the inside of his lip.  His partner was enjoying the
findings a little too much for his comfort.  The sense of I-told-you-so in
her reaction that was so un-Scully, it made him cringe.  He flopped down
in the hard plastic chair next to Scully, and leafed through the file for
himself.
     "I did, however, find a small lump on her baby."  Moore slid out
small two-inch x-ray negatives of what looked like a skull in silhouette. 
"So I took a few pictures and found not only an implant, similar to yours,
my dear, but one in her sinus cavity as well."
     Scully's non-reaction pressed him forward.  "I haven't discussed this
with Miss. Filenstein, yet.  She was in desperate need of a good night's
sleep, and I wanted to be sure that she completely understands what this
means before I explain it to
her."
     Mulder lightly tapped his pen against the table, his eyes fixed on
Scully.  "You're afraid she'll want the implants removed?"
     "Oh yes, indeed.  And since I have absolutely no frame of reference
for a subject this young . . .."  His voice trailed off.  Mulder, too had
seen what caught Moore's attention.  In Scully's monumental attempt to
control her anger, to refuse to give in to the fury that raged within her,
 she had pulled her muscles so taunt that she shook from head to foot.  
Her eyes remained transfixed on the table top, but the stare was blank and
pained.  
     "Oh, my god,"  Mulder mumbled under his breath and turned to Moore
for some kind of guidance. 
     Moore just sat in his chair, seemingly cool and collected.  In a
fatherly voice he soothed, "Breathe, Dana.  Let the anger out in your
breath.  Breathe."  Over and over he repeated the phrase, until, at last,
she did release.  And Mulder slid another of the chairs under her body
just as her legs gave way beneath her. 
While still panting, she murmured, "It's not fair . . . how can they do
this . . . she's just a baby . . .."
     Mulder's initial response was to reach out to her, in hope of some
how helping her through.  But Moore signed for him to stay put.  She
recovered quickly, and sat back in the chair.  With all eyes in the room
on her, Scully tried to throw focus on a different problem.  "She must
have agreed to give us that story in order to get her daughter back."
     The expression of concern didn't change on Mulder's face.  "What?"
     "If her baby has the implants, " Scully reasoned, her rhythm slower
and tightly controlled, "then they must have taken the child at some
point.  The only thing that makes sense is that she collaborated on the
story because she wanted to get her
daughter back . . . or her friend, perhaps, was taken to persuade her. 
They're trying to throw us off the track."
     Mulder nodded, "That's an interesting theory."
     "Damn it, Mulder!"  She banged her fist against the table and stood
up, "Don't patronize me."  She paced the room with her hands on her hips. 
"How can a government operate like this?  They're supposed to protect us!"
     With a worried look from Mulder, Moore smiled at Scully and offered,
"I suppose that's why you're here, Miss Scully."
     She stopped in her pacing and stared at the older man.  How did he do
that?  How did he know how to say just the right thing to her?  Her father
used to be able to do that.  He would look at her with his dark, wise
eyes, and see right through her.  No, not through her . . . *in* to her. 
Even when she didn't want him there.  When she originally joined the FBI
Academy, he looked in to her eyes and asked her if that was all she really
wanted out of life.  At the time she had thought it was because he didn't
want her to join the FBI - that he wanted her to stay in medicine. 
But at that moment in the police station, three years and two thousand
miles from where her father had died, she knew what he really meant.  He
knew on that day, that when she joined the Bureau, she would be giving up
marriage and a family, and the safety and security that comes with it. 
Mulder loved her, she knew beyond anything else in the world.  And she
loved Mulder.  No question.  But she also knew that in all likelihood,
there would be no children with him, no house with a picture window and a
real, working fireplace.  That didn't come with the package.  No, with
Mulder she got a dog, a cellular, and a cold basement office - some
assembly required.  "Batteries not included," she said with a grin. 
Mulder blinked, completely lost.
     A rap in the door signaled the entrance of a small Asian woman, 
Officer Yukiko, who had, by that time, finished her interpretation of the
polygraph.  "Well, it certainly *looks* as if the suspect thinks she's
telling the truth."  She said spreading the chart out on the table.
     Scully rolled her eyes.
     "She's not a suspect," Mulder corrected the woman.
     "Yeah, well," the woman bobbed her head, "she's convinced that she's
telling the truth."
     Shooting a hard look to Mulder, Scully bit out, "Of course she is." 
Then she stomped from the room.  
     Mulder followed.  "Scully stop.  Look, I want her to stay with Moore
for a while -"
     "She's not a lost dog that you can just dump-"
     "I've already talked to Moore about it, he thinks it's a good idea. 
He wants to run some more tests - and Janet is all for it."     
     Scully stopped in mid-stride and pulled herself up to her full height
to get right in to Mulder's face.  "You talked to the 'witness' - and I
use that term loosely - about staying with Moore before we had the results
back from the polygraph?  What would you have done if she failed?"
     "I knew she wouldn't."
     She gave him a sarcastic chuckle, "Of course you did."  She continued
storming down the hall.
     'Scully!"  Mulder caught up with her, "Scully, wait!  Are you mad at
*me*?"
     She slammed her briefcase on to the nearby desk.  "NO!"
     Mulder studied her face.  "Yes, you are!  You're mad at me because
she passed!"
     Scully's eyes closed in to slits, and her voice lowered an octave. 
"For your information, Agent Mulder, the only thing that that stupid test
proves is that she was under the influence of something stronger that
night than the drugs she admits to - which isn't surprising - because she
believes that ludicrous story.  You on the other hand, don't have that
excuse!"
     Now on the defensive, Mulder demanded: "Me?  When did this become
personal, *Agent Scully*?"
     "The moment I told you about the implant in my neck and you didn't
give a damn!"
     "I didn't *what*?"  Mulder couldn't believe what he was hearing.
     She mimicked his words and threw them back in to his face, "'Lets not
freak out until we know what this is.'  Well, we still don't know what it
is, Mulder, but I'm freaking!  I'm freaking like there's no tomorrow! 
I've been freaking out for a while now, and you never noticed.  I love
you, Mulder, but sometimes being with you is like being alone."
     Her last phrase hit him hard.  Had he really been blind to her
symptoms?  Why hadn't she said anything?  Perhaps she was afraid to be
dismissed again.  Or worse still, maybe she did tell him, in her own way,
and he had overlooked that as well.  The wedge between them, could it
possibly be *all* his fault?  His ignorance to her needs and fears? 
Somehow, without even trying, he'd been driving her away.
     Scully sat down.  That last bit of fury had drained a lot more energy
than it should have.  "Mulder, I'm sorry.  I'm not being fair.  You had no
way of knowing."
     His eyes were dark with guilt, his voice low and steady.  'How long?"
     Resting an elbow on the desk, she propped her head in the palm of her
hand, "How long what?"
     "How long have you had symptoms?"
     She closed her eyes, "Oh, I don't know."
     Mulder knelt in front of her, "Scully talk to me."  
     "I need to lay down, Mulder.  I can barely keep my eyes open."
     "Okay, Scully.  Lets go back to the hotel."  He helped pull her to
her feet, and kept an arm around her to the car.  If she needed to rest,
then she would rest.  If she needed an operation, she'd have that, too. 
Mulder knew, that if she needed the heart beating in his chest, he'd give
it to her.  Heaven knew it belonged to her anyway.

*******************************

Understanding others is knowledge,
Understanding oneself is enlightenment;
Conquering others is power,
Conquering oneself is strength;
To die but not be forgotten is longevity.

-Tao Te Ching



February 2, 1996.
Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
1:58 AM.


     Scully lay, that night, on her back, watching the shadows
from the outside world play on the textured ceiling.  The light
seemed to fall haphazardly, not bothering with shapes.  But, she
knew, there was nothing haphazard about them.  The light came
from a specific source and was interrupted by defined objects to
create the monsters looking down at her.  It was all some great,
calculated plan to terrify her.  And it did.  They did.  The
movements of darkness on the plain above her left her heart
racing.  She clutched her chest and called out, "Mulder!"

     He sprang up beside her, "What's wrong?"

     She was sure her heart would burst, "Make them stop!"  A
hand went from her chest to point at the evil faces grinning down
from the ceiling.

     "Stop what?"  He couldn't see what she was scared of.  When
he looked back down to her, her breath was coming in short,
shallow gasps, both hands clutching at her heart.  Without
thinking he flipped on the light, "Scully!  Talk to me!  What is it?"  
     He already had is cellular phone in his hand and was
searching the night stand for the number when Scully leapt from
the bed, screaming, "No lights!!!"  She was in the other room
before he could register what had happened.

     He found her huddled in a corner by the door trying to catch
her breath, hiding her face in her up-drawn knees.  "Jesus,
Scully, talk to me.  What can I do?"

     "It's too bright, Mulder."  And when she turned to him he
could see that her pupils were completely dilated.  There was
almost no blue left to her eyes at all.  He raced back to the other
room and flipped the wall switch, cutting the power to
everything.  Then he was back beside her.

     "Is that better?" he needed her to talk to him.  He didn't know
how to react to the gasping pile of Scully before him.  He tried to
put him arms around her, but she screamed as if he were
scalding water.  At a loss, Mulder ran back in to the bed room
and dialed Dr. Moore on his cellular.  A sleepy hello answered.

     "It's Scully," Mulder yelled in a half panic, leaning over her
once again, "I don't think she can breath!"

     "It sounds like that's all she is doing."  He chuckled lightly
and then asked, "Is she coherent?"

     "Yeah, I think so, but she's not talking much."
 
      "Where are her hands?"

     Mulder paused and looked at the phone, and then his
concern won out, "At her chest."

     "Ask her if it's her lungs."

     Scully shook her head no.

     "Ask if it's her heart."

    This time a firm nod confirmed the doctor's suspicions.  "This
is part of the hormonal imbalance that I was describing earlier. 
The norepinhrine has given her a rapid heart beat.  It may take a
while for her body to try and counteract.  When it does, she's
going to go stone cold.  She may pass out.  She may throw up. 
What ever happens, try to get her to drink some warmed water,
if you can, and cover her up.  She's got to stay as warm as
possible."

     Mulder nodded, making the necessary mental notes.  "Is
there anything I can do to help right now?"  A small whimper was
escaping between each gasp she made.  "How do I get her heart
to slow?"

     "No.  Just wait it out.  Talk to her.  Tell her a story, sing her a
song.  Just don't ask questions she can't answer.  Yes or no
questions.  Got it?"

     "Yes."  That wasn't the response Mulder had hoped to hear.

     "Good night, then, and call me if there's another problem."

CLICK.  

     For nearly twenty minutes, Mulder knelt beside Scully,
describing the countryside in England, what his dorm room at
Oxford had looked like, learning to play Cricket, and then the
rules of the game.  Slowly her breaths became deeper and more
relaxed, until Scully slumped forward in to Mulder's waiting
arms.  Her skin was like marble, smooth and cold.  He carried
her in to the bed room, and folded the blankets over to give her
as much as he could.  By the time he brought warm water from
the bathroom for her to drink, Scully was asleep.  He checked
her breathing and pulse, and both were back to nearly normal. 
Mulder sighed in to the hotel phone and asked for another five
blanket to be brought to their suit as soon as possible.  Then he
slid under the covers to share his body heat with her.  There was
no question in his mind that they had to find some way of
relieving the symptoms; Scully's tiny body would never hold up
under this kind of abuse for long.  No one's would.

***************

Chicago West Bank Land Fill.
Chicago, Ill.
3:33 PM.


     By mid-afternoon of the next day, Mulder stood knee-high in
refuge.  

     "I think this is the spot," Janet called from the other side of
the garbage heap.  Both Moore and Mulder waded through the
offensive stench, careful not to step any deeper than the top of
the rubber boots the Dump Controller had offered.    Janet
surveyed the area looking for a frame of reference.  "This place
looks different in the sunlight," she offered apologetically.

     Moore nodded distractedly, "Now where was your child while
you were here?"

     Janet turned towards the entrance of the yard, "I left her
sleepin' in a box over there."  She pointed.  "Remember, we
wasn't this close when the light-thing was here.  We ran came
over after."

     Mulder pulled out the familiar stop watch set and placed one
in the large blackened circle that Janet had indicated.  Then he
followed Moore over to the box that had cradled the sleeping
child.  Other than a mildewy towel and a few newspapers, the
box seemed empty and  unimportant.

     Scanning the skyline, Mulder quarried, "And you were here
when you saw the light coming towards you?"

     "Naw," Janet pointed to the nearby rubbish heap, "We were
on top of that pile.  From up there, you can see the power
station above them trees."

     Both Mulder and Moore's ears perked up, "What power
station."

     Janet lead the men up the garbage with expert skill, "See
them chimneys?  Well at night they're all lit up.  They make the
sky a soft orangey color."

     "And that's the direction you saw the approaching
light-thing?"  Mulder was careful to use her terminology.

     "Uh-huh."

     Because of his height advantage, Mulder could see more of
the plant than his companions, "That's a gas refinery.  I can see
the steel drums."

     Moore's face lost it's open humor as the facts began to sink
in.  "So what does that have to do with the abductees, and the
murdered man?"

     Mulder shook his head.  There must be a connect, he knew,
it was just on the tip of his mind.  He studied the yellow and
black logo of the refinery.  Well, maybe not, he decided. 
Something was unsettling about all of this.  The problem was he
wasn't sure just what.  Except that Scully wasn't here to see this. 
She should've been inspecting the site with them.  But after last
night she was simply too weak to get out of bed, and when
Mulder had demanded that she stay in the hotel to get some
more rest, Scully agreed to rest without putting up a fight. They
were able to get a reliable babysitter using the hotel's directory,
a woman who had also agreed to keep watch over the ailing
agent. Scully was very pale when she had tried to get out of bed.
A taste of bile choked Mulder and he took in a gulp of putrid air
to keep from vomiting.  

***************

Radison Suites Hotel 
4:30 PM

     They hadn't found all they hoped for but Mulder was
thoughtful as they made their way back to the hotel. For some
reason that remained stubbornly hidden, the image of the power
plant seemed hauntingly familiar.

     He was leading the way into the hotel lobby, lost in thought,
so he did not notice the commotion occurring at the concierge
desk until Janet called out, "Mrs. Rivera?"

     When he looked up, he saw the woman they'd hired to look
after Janet's baby and Scully, talking excitedly to a man behind
the desk. He had his hand on the phone as if preparing to make
a call. Janet marched over, Moore following behind, and
retrieved her daughter from the babysitter's arms.

     "Thank Heaven you're back, Agent Mulder," said the short
man as he stood at Mulder's approach. "Mrs. Rivera just came
down from Agent Scully's room a few minutes ago and, well,
there seems to be some problem with Agent Scully."

     Mulder turned to the matronly woman, trying to ignore the
hammering in his chest. His questions were so clearly written on
his face he didn't need to ask.

     "There is something very wrong with the lady. She was
sleeping fine when you left. Even when the baby was fussy, the
lady slept. Then, all of a sudden like, she comes out of the room
but she's not there, you know? I think maybe she's sleepwalking,
no? But then she starts talking to the corner of the room like
someone's there. Mister, there was nobody there, but she just
keeps talking and calling for Missy...."

     Mulder's face was white as he ran for the stairway, not
waiting to hear the rest. Moore moved surprisingly fast and was
able to grab the younger man's arm just before he could dash up
the steps. "Mulder, wait. Who's Missy?"

     Mulder pulled his arm away. "She was Dana's sister. She was
shot about six months ago and killed, we think, by men who
were sent to murder Scully."

     "Oh my God! Get up there but don't interfere unless she's
trying to hurt herself. I'll be right up."

     The agent nodded and took off, his feet barely touching the
stairs.

****************

Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.

     "Missy, it's so hard. I can't think anymore; I can't feel
anymore. They keep filling me with this anger and telling me
lies."

     * Dana, you keep fighting things. How many times have I told
you to let the emotions flow around you instead of trying to fight
them head on?*

     "I don't know how. They did things to me, Missy. I can't
remember all of it. I don't want to remember. They hurt me so
much!"

     *I know, Sis. I know. But eventually, you'll have to accept
even those bad memories. They're a part of you now.*

     "No, I won't! I'll never accept what they did; what they made
me do! Never!"

     *Dana, it's part of you now. It wasn't your fault but if you keep
trying to pretend it didn't happen, they're just have a stronger
bond on you. If you remember, you can start to heal.*

     "I'll never heal, Missy. I can never be whole again. They took
me and did things to me, horrible things, and I kept asking them
to tell me why but they wouldn't. They wouldn't. And how can I
stay with Fox if I remember everything? He'll hate me."

     *Dana, their reasons don't really matter. They may not even
realize the truth themselves. Their actions will be repaid in their
own time and manner. You have to let it go. And Fox will always
love you. You know that.*

     "I know. But how can I let it go? They killed you, Missy, and
now they're killing me. I can feel it deep inside."

     *Dana, please, listen to me. You're wasting your energy
trying to fight them. Remember what the Tao says, you win by
losing. There's another way to beat this, Sis, but you've got to
practice what I tried to teach you. Find another teacher, Dana;
someone who can lead you out of the darkness.*

     "I think it's too late, Missy. I'm dying."

     It was the resignation in her voice as she told her dead sister
she was dying that finally broke Mulder. He had flung open the
hotel room door, unsure of what he would find. There was Dana,
with tears streaming down her face, talking to a vision of Melissa
which only she could see. Only Moore's warning him not to
interfere held Mulder from going to her, holding her, bringing her
back to him.

     To hear her talking about her pain and anger was torture
enough but to hear her accepting a death sentence . . .. His own
tears went unheeded. He was good at getting into other people's
heads: that had been his job, what he was trained to do. What
he saw when he looked into Dana's froze his guts in fear.

     Moore was at his side, breathing heavily, watching the young
red-haired woman continue her conversation with the dead. He
slowly moved into the room but waved Mulder back when he
tried to follow. "Dana?"

     Scully ignored the soft call of the physician. "I'm so tired,
Missy. How much longer can I go on this way?" She tilted her
head as if contemplating the reply.

     Moore moved a little closer. "Dana," he called in a stronger
voice.

     Scully turned to look at him. "Daddy?"

     "Dana, it's Dr. Moore. You remember me, don't you? What
are you talking about with your sister?"

     Scully shook her head slowly and studied Moore's features.
"Dr. Moore? I'm...,  I'm talking to Melissa. She understands what
happened. She's telling me..."

     "Telling you what, Dana?"

     "She's telling me that I have to remember."

     "Remember?"

     "I don't want to. She's telling me that I have to remember so I
can get well."

     "Dana, are you saying that if you remember what happened
while you were gone, you'd get better? You know how to make
yourself well?" There was an increasing excitement in Moore's
manner.

     "No, I ,um, maybe... Missy?" Scully turned back to the corner
but her eyes widened as if in surprise. "Missy? Where are you?" 

     "Dana? What's wrong? Dana, we're right here. Do you know
where you are?"

     "Missy? She's gone. Missy!" Scully ran to the corner of the
room searching frantically.  Her frenzied hands running through
the space Melissa had occupied.  "Missy! Don't leave me again!
Missy!"  Then she bolted for the bedroom where she first saw
her sister.

     Moore moved to restrain Scully's attempts to run into the
other room, wrapping her in a bear hug. "Dana, stop it. Listen to
me. You're OK."

     Scully suddenly froze in Moore's arms as if waking from a
nightmare. She looked around the room, reorienting herself  to
place and time. "Dr. Moore? What happened? Fox?"

     Her questioning gaze released Mulder's stasis and he walked
over, gently taking her from Moore's loose embrace. He held her
quietly for a moment knowing that what he next told her would
upset her. "Dana, you were talking to Melissa. You thought she
was here," he whispered.

     "Melissa?! I was...but she's .... Oh God." Scully sank into a
nearby chair. "I ... she was there in the corner. I was sleeping but
I heard her calling me."

     "Dana, you remember what she was telling you?" Moore's
voice was still quivering with suppressed feelings.

     "No, I, some of it, I guess. Why? She really wasn't here.
What does it matter what I imagined her saying?" Scully's tone
was bitter.

     "Actually, it might be very important. Your mind is giving us
hints maybe, on how to help you. Somewhere the answer is in
your memories."

     "My memories? How can memories help? You think they told
me what they were doing? You think they cared? I can't
remember; I won't." Scully's voice was increasingly agitated. 
She didn't want to remember; if anything she wanted to forget. 
The truth held pain for her - only the lies held comfort. 

     "Enough now. You've had enough for tonight. I want you to
relax. I think I have an idea and want to get Janet and the baby
back to the lab.  I want to check the results of the tests I began
this morning." His glance to Mulder contained a wealth of
cautions.

     "I'm getting worse, aren't I? I know I'm right."

     "Dana, let me have a couple of days. I might have an answer
for you. Then, yes, I want you to get into a hospital."

     Scully nodded slowly, acknowledging at least a part of what
her sister was trying to tell her. She was learning acceptance.

****************

     Not five minutes after Moore left their suite the phone rang. 
Scully, being the closest, picked it up on impulse.

     It was Moore's frantic voice, "Janet and the baby - they're
gone!"

     Mulder was down in the lobby seconds later, with Scully close
on his heels.

     "The man behind the desk said he saw black sedans, and
men in dark suits.  They've got her!"  Moore's chest and belly
heaved with panic.  "God only knows what they'll do to them."

     Scully questioned a few people while Mulder called in the
local authorities.  He wanted official statements and pictures of
the tire marks on the pavement.  This time the abduction would
be documented.  

     Mulder looked up when he hung up the phone to see Mrs.
Rivera eyeing his partner cautiously.  When Scully tried to
approach the woman to ask her what she'd seen, Mrs. Rivera
backed away from her and fled the hotel all together, muttering
under her breath in Spanish, "Loco . . . loco . . .."

     Scully froze and tried to understand the drastic reaction. 
Without even realizing it, she stiffened her back, and the
muscles in her neck tightened.  "I'm not crazy," she said to
herself and then ran out after the elderly woman.  "I'm not
crazy!"  she bellowed repeatedly at the top of her lungs before
Mulder could get to her side.  


     She resisted his gentle pull.  "I don't want to lie down!  Let
go!"  

     "Come on, Scully, the police are coming, so there's really
nothing more for us to do here, anyway."

     "No!"  Her struggling became agitated.  Mulder tried to pull
her in to him, to squeeze her against his chest and keep her
from hurting herself.  But the more strength he used the more
she fought.  "Let go of me!"

     "Okay, Scully, okay."  He loosened his grip and immediately
she pulled away.  "Just relax."

     She was straightening her blouse when Moore came up
behind them.  "Is everything all right here?" he asked with a
careful eye on Dana.

lowered her head and a weak, "No, it's not fine," crept out.  "I
want to be a real person again."  When she looked up to
Mulder's browed eyes, she reminded him, "Janet said, back at
the station, that she used to be a real person."  

     "Scully, you're the same person -"

     "No.  I'm not.  Not really."  She hugged her arms tightly
around her torso.  "Mulder, for what just happend - I'm sorry . . ."

     He felt the turmoil spiraling inside her as clearly if it was his
own.  His first instinct was to wrap his arms around her and
envelope the woman he loved in his protective arms.  But he let
her stand strong on her own, knowing that he was within arms
length should she want reach for him.  "Don't worry about it,
Scully.  I can take it."  She looked up in to his eyes.  His
contagious half grin infecting her mood.

need to get back to the lab.  The tests that I ran on Janet and
the baby this morning should be nearly complete.  Why don't the
two of you go lie down?  I'll call you with the results."

     Scully nodded her silent consent, and Mulder placed a
shepherding hand on her lower back to steer her back to the
hotel.  Moore stopped him.  "I'm going to call a friend that I have
at the Presbyterian Hospital.  She needs some serious attention. 
Tests and therapies that I don't have the facilities to offer."

     "Do you trust this friend?"

      Moore nodded.  "I don't know him well enough to trust him
with my life.  But I do trust him to do the right thing.  She needs
help.  The symptoms are going to end up destroying her mind if
we don't intercede soon."

     Mulder studied the man's honest eyes and gave him a nod of
acceptance.  Then he caught up with Scully and held the heavy
glass door for her.

****************

Room #618.
6:11PM.

     They laid together on the couch with the soft, lulling music
pouring from the small hotel radio.  Mulder ran a lazy hand over
her back.  The fragrance of her hair and the warmth of her body
on his calming him in a way that nothing else could.  How could
he let her know that she was the world to him?  It was imperative
to make her understand that giving up wasn't an option; that
since they were together, everything that effected her, effected
him; that he needed her like he needed air.
 
     "Mulder?"  Her voice was soft against his chest.

     "Hmmm?"  

     "I want you to promise me something."  She pulled up from
him to look in his eyes.  

     "Anything."

     She repressed a small smile and  pushed, "No, I'm serious.  I
need this from you."

     Mulder's throat tensed.  "You sound serious."

     She swallowed and collected her thoughts.  "Mulder, if
something happens to me -"

     "Nothing is going to happen, Scully.  We're going to find a
cure -"

     She placed a delicate finger on his lips.  "Please, let me say
this."  Her eyes glittered with moisture as she felt his lips fall
silent under her hand. "If we don't find a cure, and I become . . .
incapacitated . . . I want you to promise me that you'll stay with
your work."

     "Scully -"

     "I don't want you to become my nurse, Mulder, that has never
been what our relationship has been about."  

     He struggled for a moment.  "I won't put you in a hospital.  I
won't allow you to be locked away somewhere."  He shook his
head, "And it will never happen, so it's a non-issue.  You're
going to be fine."

     He tried to get up from the couch but she refused to be rolled
off of him.  "Mulder.  Listen to me.  I have to know that no matter
what happens to me, that you will be fine."

     The opening of her heart, the reaching out of her soul
created an ache in his own.  "Scully.  Dana, you have to know
then, that I'll only survive if you do."  She shook her head and
tried to turn her grief ridden face away from him, but he forced
her to look at him, refusing to hid his own tears.  "We are
connected, Dana.  We have been for years.  Not just
emotionally, not just spiritually, but physically connected as well. 
I will die without you, Dana."   A deep sob shook her chest, even
though she tried to swallow it down.  "But I refuse to die, and so
you have to fight.  Fight for your life, Dana.  Because it's more
than just you, now, and it's more than just me." 

     He pulled her back down to him until he could feel her heart
beating against his chest.  She was crying against him, and he
allowed himself to weep, too.  They were shared tears of
exhaustion and frustration and love and worry.  And
commitment.  And the comforting knowledge that neither was
alone.

********************

Cut out doors and windows to make a room,
but it is in the spaces where there is nothing
that the usefulness of the room lies.
Therefore,
Benefit may be derived from something,
but it is in nothing that we find usefulness.

-Tao Te Ching



Room #618.
11:58 PM.

     The phone startled them back to reality.  Scully leapt off of
her partner and stumbled to the phone. 

     "Hello?"

     "Hello, my dear, you're sounding a little groggy.  Did you
have a nice sleep?"

     Scully breathed through a smile at the joviality of Dr. Moore's
voice and looked at Mulder, "Yes, it was wonderful."  Mulder,
however, wasn't fairing as well.  The angle of the sofa's arm had
stressed his neck and shoulders at angles previously foreign to
them.  He growled and rubbed the tender muscles while he
listened to Scully on the phone.

     "Good to hear.  Good to hear."  There was a mounting
excitement in his voice that pulled Scully's heart in to her throat. 
"I need you and Mr. Mulder to get here as soon as is humanly
possible.  I think I may have found a possible answer to your
health problems, and I want to go over my findings with you. 
But first, write down this name and number."

     Scully scrounged the small desk for a pad and pencil, and
took down the information Moore dictated to her.  "You have an
appointment tomorrow morning with this man.  He's a good
doctor, and an honest man; and I need the new tests so I can
monitor if this new therapy has any kind of significant effect."

     Mulder came up behind her and held his breath at the
sanguine expression she wore.  "We'll be there soon, Dr. Moore. 
Thank you."  Then she leapt in to Mulder's arms.  

****************

February 3, 1996.
Chicago, Ill.
855 49th Street, plot # 11
12:30 AM.

     The warehouse looked deceptively abandoned.  Its dark,
neglected features had long since lost their original color and
sharp angles.  The only light in the area came from the car
headlights, as they cut through the bitter morning chill.  

     Mulder followed Scully's directions, turning left and then
right, and then following the alley until they hit the small circular
enclosure.  A bright green 1966 Buick, dulled by the blanket of
night, sat precociously next to the waving figure of a little round
man.  Scully couldn't resist a wave back to him, knowing that he
couldn't see her in the cabin.

     Mulder pulled in next to Dr. Moore and cut the ignition.

     Without warning, without a sound, the blinding flash of light
swept over them like a tidal wave.  Instinctively Scully went to
shield her eyes, but the very next conscious moment later, she
was sitting several hundred feet from the car, enveloped in the
cold and dark of the February morning.  

     Her head throbbed without mercy, her wrists and ankles
ached with strain.  The biting chill of the air stung her lungs
when she called out for Mulder.  When there was no response
she wobbled to her unsteady feet and stumbled towards the
headlights of the car.  Somewhere between where she had been
and where she was going, she fell over Mulder lying spread
eagle on the cement.

     "Ooh."  His breath response told her that he was still alive.

     "Mulder!  Mulder!  Wake up!  Are you okay?"   Quickly her
fingers scanned his body for obvious wounds.

     "Scully?  What happened?"  He sat up, disorientated, holding
her arms for balance and the comfort of knowing that she was
still there with him.  "There was a light . . .."

     All at once Scully bolted from his grasp and ran towards the
cars.  "Dr. Moore!"  she cried, his spherical form painfully absent
from the area.  "Dr. Moore!"

     "Scully," Mulder called to her, before he could manage to get
his legs to support him again.  "Scully, wait!"

     "He's gone, Mulder!"  Her voice was beyond panic, beyond
terror.  "He's gone!"

***************


     "We've lost time, Scully. It was going onto one when we got
here. It's almost three now," said Mulder as he glanced at his
watch.

     "What do you think happened?"

     "You know the answer to that. The real question is what
happened to Moore and what happened while we were out of it."
He looked worriedly into her face. Moore had told them that he
had news that could save Scully and now that news was gone,
along with the man who might have had the answers for them.
"Where are you going?"

     Scully had started moving to the door of the lab. "I want to
see if there's anything left that we could use."

     "Scully, I can come back here after we get you checked out
at the hospital. I think that's more of a priority right now."

     "Mulder, you've got to be kidding. There probably isn't
anything left in the lab but I'd be willing to bet that whatever
might have been, will be gone by the time we get back. I'm fine.
Now, are you coming with me?" She moved with determination
towards the door.

     After a small sigh, Mulder followed, pulling out his flashlight.
It proved unnecessary, however, since Scully found that the
electricity was still working by flipping the lightswitch. The room
was surprisingly neat. "I thought it would have been ransacked
for some reason," said Scully as she moved to look through the
paperwork on the desk.

     "I have a feeling that Moore was carrying all the data he had
about his theory. It was too important to him. I'll take the hard
drive from his computer, though. The guys might have some
luck lifting the memory." Mulder walked over to the machine to
disconnect the cables.

     Scully was looking over the books which lined the walls on
floor to ceiling shelves. She stopped when she came upon a
small picture frame with two yellowing photos tucked inside.
They were pictures of a young woman with dark hair and a small
girl of about eight. She caught her breath as she recognized the
eyes of  Dr. Moore staring back at her. 

     "What'd you find?" asked Mulder as he sidled up beside her.

     "I'm not sure but I think I know who they are," she answered
in a distracted whisper. She put the frame into her pocket.

     "C'mon, Scully. Let's get to the hospital. I've got a headache
that would stop traffic. I'd be willing to bet you have one too." He
grinned as she tried to deny it but couldn't. Her head was
throbbing.


****************

North Presbyterian Hospital.
3rd Floor Waiting room.
10:45 AM.



     "Nothing, Mulder. I can't believe that there's nothing wrong
now!" Scully shook her head in disbelief. She looked through the
lab reports she had commandeered from the hospital staff. "All
the results are within normal limits; the ACTH levels, the liver
enzymes, everything."

     "What did the scans show?"

     "The same. Nothing outside of the normal parameters. For
both of us, thank God."

     Mulder leaned forward to touch her cheek. "I told you I was
OK, Scully."

     "Mulder, we had no way of knowing whether they took this
opportunity to give you one of those implants. We had to know
for sure." She shifted on the hard plastic of the chairs which
were common in most hospital waiting rooms. She was so tired.

     Mulder grinned, then broke out into a chuckle. The
incongruent sound rattled Scully's frayed composure. Moore was
gone; Janet and the baby were gone; whatever evidence Moore
had compiled was probably gone, and Mulder was laughing!
There had been a light; they had lost time. Mulder might have
been used as she had been, yet there he was -- laughing.

     "Mind letting me in on the joke?" she asked in a sharp edge
voice.

     In reply, he pulled her out of the chair and gathered her to
him, coaxing her stiff body to relax against his. "I was picturing
the look on the ER staff's collective faces when you bullied your
way in here and started ordering those tests. Skinner's going to
be soothing ruffled feathers for the rest of the week." He kissed
her forehead.

     The man was insane. There could be no other explanation
for it, she thought. On the other hand, if she had to be stuck with
a madman, at least he was her madman. She smiled as she
hugged him back.


***************


      They made their way to the seventh floor in order to keep
the appointment Moore had made for them with Dr. Haluji
Kokaji. Both were weary from lack of sleep and emotional
upheavals. Spending time becoming intimately familiar with the
hospital's lab, didn't improve their mood. They knew, however,
they had to find out what Moore had discussed with his
colleague. They still might salvage something from this trip.

     The elevator doors opened to chaos. On the far end of the
hall, stood several doctors, nurses and orderlies gawking at
uniformed police officers moving in and out of a nearby office.
The flash of a camera could be seen coming from the open
door.

     The agents glanced worriedly at each other as they reached
for their IDs.

     They flipped the badges to the first uniformed officer who
directed them to a burly, African-American man wearing a
slightly rumpled suit and tie. His name was Larry Burke.

     "Detective Burke? I'm Fox Mulder. This is my partner,
Special Agent Dana Scully. Can I ask what happened here?"

     "FBI? We didn't call the Bureau," said Burke sourly.

     "We realize that, Detective," replied Scully in a placating
tone. She forced the tired muscles in her face to smile. "We had
an appointment with a Dr. Haluji Kokaji regarding a case we're
investigating."

     "I don't think Dr. Kokaji will be keeping that appointment. We
got a call about two hours ago. Housekeeping found the office
ransacked. I mean this place was destroyed! Administration
telephoned Kokaji to notify him and got no answer. I just got a
call from the guys we sent to his place. Looks like someone left
in a hurry. There was a half-eaten meal left on the kitchen
table." Burke gave the agents a sly look. "I don't suppose you
guys would be willing to tell me what you were investigating?"

     "I don't think we have anything you could use, Detective,"
Mulder replied. The grim expression on his face spoke
eloquently of his frustration. He took a moment to look into the
office and then pulled a card from his wallet. He handed it to
Burke. "Please send copies of your report and the forensics to
this address." Before Burke could argue, Mulder put his hand
under Scully's arm and steered her down the hallway.

     "Mulder, don't you think we should stay here and see if we
can find anything?"

     "Scully, you know as well as I do that we're not going to find
anything. We're too late." He impatiently jabbed the button for
the elevator. "I think Moore made a mistake in his estimation
about Dr. Kokaji's honesty. It may be that phone call he made
was what tipped off our friends."

     Scully hung her head, letting his words filter through mind. 
She knew he was right. "Now what?"

     "We go home. There's nothing left for us here."

     Without another word, she followed him into the waiting
elevator.

****************


Epilogue.

     As the sun set behind the low fence, Scully sighed and rested
her chin in her hands.  It had been a long two weeks, and even
though Mulder had been ridiculously adamant in seeing to her
rest and recuperation for entire three days following their return
from Chicago, Scully still felt a little tired and achy.  Not that
she'd ever admit that to Mother Hen Mulder.

     Margaret slid the hot chocolate to her daughter and seated
herself next to her at the breakfast table.  Mentally, she noted
the puffiness under Dana's eyes.  But the color in her cheeks
and her dry humor was returning to the only daughter left alive
and again she thanked god for Fox Mulder and his seemingly
endless devotion to Dana.  She didn't know many of the details
of their latest investigation, nor did she wish to.  The simple
knowledge that Dana was in trouble and Fox was there with her -
helping her - was enough.  "How is Fox?"

     "He's fine, Mom."  Dana smiled her infamous toothless smile
and cradled the steaming cup in her hands.  "He's finishing up
on the paper work, believe it or not."  She swirled the dark liquid
sinking a melted marshmallow with her finger.  "I'm really
enjoying his sudden burst of pampering.  More than I thought I
would."  She chuckled to herself and looked up her mother. 
"You know, Mom, you must be the last person in the US who
makes hot chocolate from scratch.  I love that."

     "It's worth the effort."  Margaret's heart smiled and it was
reflected on her face.  "You're looking better.  Maybe pampering
is what you needed.  You wear it well."

     "Oh," Scully chortled, "I'm not getting used to it, Mom.  I'll be
back to finishing up the paperwork and sorting out his impossibly
unorganized notes and all of the other stuff soon enough, I'm
sure.  Do you know he actually did my laundry?"  

     "No!"

     With a satisfied nod she added, "He even separated the
delicates from the colors, and *folded* my socks."

     Margaret laughed, clapping her hands.  "Oh, Dana, marry
him now!  You can't let him get away!" 

     Through a half-hearted smiled, she looked down in to her
mug. "He's not going to get away, Mom."  Without either of them
knowing the exact reason why, the air in the room suddenly felt
twice as heavy.  Dana's half-cocked smile tried to lighten the
mood, "I've got handcuffs, remember?"  The cover didn't entirely
work.  Margaret caught the fleeting tightening of her daughter's
throat.

     "Dana?"

     Quickly trying to change the subject, Scully motioned to the
mug, "How do you keep the chocolate from burning before it's
melted enough to add the milk?"

     With one hand Margaret reached out and stopped the lame
attempt.  "Why won't you tell me what's bothering you, Dana?"

     Giving her best evasive shrug, Scully said, "There's nothing
to talk about.  I'm fine, Mom."  

     Sitting back, Margaret eyed her daughter.  Scully knew there
was no way out of this conversation and she exhaled.  "No,
Dana.  When I said that about you marrying Fox, I was just . . . I
didn't mean anything by it.  He treats you well because he loves
you so much, that's all I meant."

     "I know."

     The innuendo wouldn't lie still for long.  Margaret raised her
eyebrows and ran a finger around the lip of her mug, "Not that I
wouldn't like seeing you two married.  Maybe with a baby or
two."

     Dana shot up in the chair, "Mom!"

    "Especially now that you've decided not to keep your
relationship a secret.  But if you two have decided for whatever
reason," Margaret raised her hands in mock defeat, "not to go
that route, I certainly respect your decision."  Sipping her
chocolate, Scully nodded and looked out the bay window.  "You
have," Margaret was amazed at the courage she found to ask,
"talked about it, though.  And the two of you *did* make the
choice together, right?"

     Scully closed her eyes and slumped back in her chair.  How
did her mother do that?  She *always* knew the right questions
to ask - the ones Dana didn't particularly *want* to answer.  "We
haven't . . . actually talked about it, no."  She looked up at her
mother's caring eyes that didn't betray one ounce of shock. 
"Things hadn't been going so well between us for the last few
months.  The strain of the job, the secretive relationship, they
were difficult to deal with and keep the work from suffering at
the same time."  Her mother nodded for her to continue.  "And I
wasn't feeling . . . like me.  And, well," she inhaled deeply, "we
never really talked about it."

     "But now that things are better -"

     "No, probably not now, either."  Dana felt the question her
mother wanted to ask, but none came.  "Mom, things are too
complicated.  I'm seeing a doctor, a *hypnotherapist* of all
things, to try and help me . . . work through the time that I
missed.  And then there is the doctor that we met in Chicago,
the one who was abducted.  His family is in California, and I
want to go out there to find them.  And then of course, there's
the normal work load that keeps us so busy.  And the search for
his sister -"

     "I see."  Setting her mug back on the table, Margaret looked
out the window to the empty bird feeder nailed haphazardly to
the large hammocked pine tree.

     "And anyway," Scully added in a small voice, "I don't think
we're really the marrying type."

     Margaret nodded, "Yes, I see.  You both have a lot of really
good excuses."  Scully's eyes shot up at her mother's remark,
but only a sad look of realization met her.  "Well, maybe
someday, when you both aren't quite so busy."

     Scully only nodded.  

     The knock on the door startled the two women, and they
giggled at the small jump that shook them both.  Margaret rose
and answered the door with a smile.  "Fox!"

     "Hi."  He offered her a brief hug and his best shy smile, "I
know you're having a mother/daughter night, but I just wanted to
stop by and pick up the photos from Scully."

     "Come in, Fox, you're always welcome here."  She gently
pulled him through the door.

     Scully's sheepish, "Hey," greeted him in the archway of the
breakfast room.  Her head rested contentedly against the wall. 
"You couldn't stay away from me for a second, huh?"

     He shrugged, "What can I say?  I'm hooked."  He stopped
across the room from her to take in the sight of her.  "You look
great."

     "I'm starting to feel like a real person again."

     He steped towards her, "You've always been a real person,
Scully."  She shook her head, but he ran his palm across her
cheek, and stepped in closer to her.  His voice lowered to barely
a whisper and the gravely tone caught in her ear.  "You are the
realest person in my life."

     She blinked the tears away and ran her hand across his.  "I'll
get you the pictures.  From her purse in the living room she
pulled the two color photographs, and spoke in a careful, but
decided voice.  "I want to see them, Mulder."

     "What?"  He quickly turned his attention to Scully and her
determined  face.  It was clear of all the confusion and anxiety
that had for the last week - no, the last year - lived there.  She
was becoming the old Scully again.  The one he first fell in love
with.  Strong, and assertive, and damn hard to figure out
sometimes.

     She exhaled, "I guess I feel an obligation to them, and to Dr.
Moore.  We have to find him; get him back." 

     There was no question in his mind.  "We will."

     Scully ran a finger over the dark chestnut hair of the woman,
and her oval face turned to the pre-teen at her side.  "He wanted
to find them, Mulder.  Now, I need to do it for him."

     Mulder shook his head, "Why?  How do you know they want
to be found?  We don't know the circumstances . . . people don't
become estranged for no reason -"

     "Some people do."  She looked up to the sound of her
mother's humming in the kitchen.  The clattering of plates on the
table brought back memories of a bustling family setting down to
their evening meal.  "I can't explain it, Mulder, but I need to see
them.  And talk to them."

     Mulder bit the inside of his cheek.  This didn't bode well.  He
was overjoyed that Scully was feeling better.  But because of
her returning health, she had adamantly refuse to take any time
off at all to recuperate.  He had acceded to her request for their
normal work load with the stipulation that she would promise not
to push herself too far too fast, and that she would see a friend
of his who specialized in hypnotherapy.  Looking up long-lost
family members of an abducted doctor somehow never ended
up in his version of the equation.  "Scully, what about the
hypnoregression?"

     She looked up at him, "I'll continue it once I get back."

     The concern on his face was easy to read, "Back?"

     She knew what he was going to say, but she forged ahead,
anyway.  "They live in Oregon.  I'm not sure where, but I don't
think they should be that hard to find."

     He placed a hand over hers, "I don't think that's a good idea. 
I mean, what would you say to them, anyway?  What would you
tell them?"

     "That he loved them."  She shrugged.  "You're not going to
change my mind, Mulder, and I'd rather have you come with me
rather than stand in my way on this one."  She watched his
glance fall back to the photo, "If someone hadn't told Missy all
those years ago how much we loved her and missed her, she
might never have come home."  Her guilty mind forced her to
look down to the smiling face stilled in her hand, "Of course,
then she wouldn't have been . . .."

     "Dinner is ready.  Fox, I'm assuming you'll be joining us,"
Mrs. Scully swept out of the kitchen, "And don't think of making
up some excuse.  We're having lasagna.  I know you like
lasagna."  She smiled her motherly smile that he simply couldn't
deny.

     The three of them sat down at the table, and Mulder did the
honors of serving the women in his life.  Thinking idly how
wonderful it would be to have his own mother at the table.  And
then of course, Samantha.  God, Samantha.  Scully and
Samantha; his family.



The End of Difficulties Under Heaven.


***Thank you for staying tuned.  Look for the sequel - The Gate of All
Wonders.  Coming soon.***