Hello, hello.  This is the promised sequel to Difficulties Under Heaven,
which was the sequel to The Way (do we see a trend here?).  You really 
aught to read those two stories first.  But if you choose not to, just
know that Mulder and Scully are most definitely a couple (and have been for 
almost a year), and that in the previous story Scully had some bad side 
effects from the implant (3rd season spoiler) and was helped through 
them by a wonderful older gentleman by the name of Dr. Moore. 

This story contains some NC-17 scenes (very explicit) and a lot of humor
(we felt we *all* deserved something a little more upbeat after the last
one).  We've also thrown in a little plot for those of you who demand that
sort of thing.  And for those of you who've actually been to Ashland,
Oregon: some of the places we've described are real, and some only exist 
in how we have chosen to remember them.  

As usual, all of the cool stuff in this story probably belongs to Chris
Carter and/or the people he works for.  The other stuff we supplied free of
charge, so there are no pangs of guilt on our part.  Well, not many, anyway.

Also, this was written pre-"Avatar",  and we have chosen to deny the 
whole Skinner-has-a-wife scenario (Is she dead?  Is she a succubus?  
And what's with the red coat?).   

Also, also, we have a fleeting  MacSpooky  ("Generations")  reference 
(which we didn't get permission for, either).   Don't blink.

A special thanks to Nicole (NVRGRIM) for her time and comments which 
were amazingly on target and helpful.  

Enjoy!



The Gate Of All Wonders 
By KMNAHILL and MD1016



Always be without desire
   in order to observe its wondrous subtleties;
Always have desire
   so that you may observe its manifestations.

Both of these derive from the same source;
They have different names but the same designation.

Mystery of mysteries,
The gate of all wonders.
     -Tao Te Ching


J. Edgar Hoover Building
Monday, April 1, 1996.
12:07 PM



The sun was burning white behind the rounded head of Walter Skinner, but
neither of the agents before him were enjoying the view.  Their boss was
mad - no, beyond mad.  He was royally steamed.  And he'd been venting
for the better half of an hour, with no end in sight.

"Eighty-seven dollars for a lamp?  Six hundred fifty dollars for a stereo
color television?  One hundred twenty dollars for room service?  Just what
the hell did you two do out there?  And what is this about a *babysitter*?"  
He leaned forward to give the agents the full effect of his nostril flare.
A  trait he was both proud of, and used without indemnity. "The case - and 
I use that term loosely -" he bit under his breath, "as I understand it,
wasn't solved?  Is that correct, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder shifted in the uncomfortable pleather chair.  His stomach 
rumbled slightly reminding him of the skipped breakfast.  God.  He 
wanted to be anywhere but sitting in Skinner's office at that moment.  
"Yes, sir."

"So all I have to show for this whole fiasco is a bill for $5500 and a two
page," he stood and bent over his desk, "*double* spaced report."

Mulder slouched a little lower in their chairs.  It had been a vain 
hope that the AD wouldn't pick up on the obvious attempt to pad 
the file.  Skinner never missed a beat with his two 'favorite' agents.  
And never missed an opportunity to pull them back in to line, Mulder 
chewed in his head.  And from the look on Skinner's face, he wasn't 
done yet.  "Agent Scully," he breathed and sat back in his swivel chair.  
"I must say that I am very disappointed.  I expect more from you than 
this." 

Mulder's protective nature reared up.  "This isn't Agent Scully's fault-"

"Agent Scully can," Skinner cut him off, "I'm sure, speak for herself,
Agent Mulder."  Then he turned a hard eye to the woman facing him.

Scully inhaled, calm and collected.  "Sir, I understand you're angry 
because of the expense report -"

"And the lack of case resolution.  Or a case," he held up the paper-thin
file, "for that matter!  *Now* I know why you waited a month to turn in the
expense vouchers!"

Mulder took this as his cue to rise, and pace the room, trying to gain
some kind of control over the interrogation.  "The money is incidental.  The
X-Files annually demands less financial backing than Violent Crimes - or
any other department for that matter - with almost double the success
rate."

Skinner shook his head, "Not per capita, it doesn't.  You and Agent Scully
are the two most expensive agents we have-" 

A worrisome thought hit Scully hard.  "Sir, have the expense reports 
been denied?" Her porcelain mask betrayed nothing of the anxiety that 
she held.  Just the thought of finding enough money to cover their 
trip left her with a queasy feeling.  She only had a little more than half
of the sum in savings, and she was fairly sure that she was way ahead 
of Mulder on that one.

"No," Skinner sat back in his chair and smoothed his tie.  "The report was
filed and approved.  Barely."  He added with significant emphasis.  "Now,
I want answers to the gaping holes in both of your stories.  Tell me again
how the room got trashed."

Mulder saw the sense of relief that settled in his partner's shoulders and
found his seat again.  Better not create unnecessary tension, he thought 
idly, she's looking a little tired today.  Or was that preoccupation? 
What was she thinking, staring up at their boss with such a calm in her eyes?  
Mulder turned to the man behind the desk as well.  "We don't know, sir.  
It was that way when Agent Scully woke from her nap."  He looked again to 
Scully but her gaze remained hard on their boss.

Skinner laced his fingers and tried another tactic.  "What time was this?"

Mulder went to answer again, but Skinner cut him off before his mouth
could open.  "Agent Scully?"

"I woke at about 6:30 in the evening," her voice was strong and even. 
Mulder was amazed that Skinner hadn't been able to ruffle her feathers
yet. Although, since returning from Chicago, Scully had been more herself than
she had been in almost a year . . . and the old Scully could take
anything.

Skinner wrinkled his brow.  "Why were you napping in the middle of the
day, Agent Scully?  Were you drunk?"

"No!" she insisted, not allowing herself to be thrown off balance by the
question.

"Then," Skinner pushed her further, "can you explain sleeping through the
destruction of a thirty inch television, and a lamp, *and* a vase . . ."
he picked up the report and read directly from it, ". . . containing a fresh
cut flower arrangement?"

Scully shook her head.  "No, sir, I can't.  I hadn't been feeling well
that afternoon, so I decided to rest while Agent Mulder went down to the
police station to do the preliminary ground work with the witnesses."

Skinner's ears perked up.  "Witnesses?  Plural?  There was only one listed
in the report.  And I see that she has since disappeared."

"Yes, sir." Scully's voice was slow and deliberate, "Before Agent Mulder
and myself could interview the first witness, she . . . disappeared as
well."

"Unbelievable."  Skinner sat back in the chair and rubbed the growing
headache above is left eye.  "Do you two ever read the reports you
hand in?  I'm seeing a pattern of missing people and bodies all around you
two."

"That is because," Scully added in a steady voice, "we go where others
refuse to.  We see the things others are afraid to.  The holes are there,
sir, because there is nothing else to report.  Our cases *are* our cases
because no one else will touch them; they're afraid of the holes."

Mulder turned back to his partner.  Her demeanor hadn't changed from the
first moment she walked in the room.  Every move, every word she uttered
was calculated and professional.  And still, none of the power behind them
was lost.  She was amazing.

Skinner dropped the report on his desk and looked both agents over
carefully.  There wasn't much to the evidence presented that he could
rebut.

"However, sir, you are correct when you point out that this case, as it
stands now, presents more questions than it answers. I would like to
follow-up on some possible leads."

Mulder straightened in his chair. He knew, with a sinking feeling in his
stomach, where this was leading.

"I was unaware of any new leads, Agent Scully. You failed to mention
them in your report."

"Sir," Mulder began.

Skinner forestalled him with the lifting of his finger. "What is the
nature of this lead?"

"I believe I may have found Dr. Moore's family. I think they're living
somewhere in Oregon."

"*Somewhere* in Oregon?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see." Skinner flipped the top page of their report. "Dr. Moore was a
'consultant' you brought into this case? You were rather vague as to why,
specifically, you needed an outside consultant as opposed to an in-house
resource. Just how was Dr. Moore involved with this case? And why
would the location of this man's family concern the Bureau?"

"The witness we interviewed made certain claims as to what had occurred
to herself and her child. She described what some might call an
'abduction' by an unknown agency. Dr. Moore had previously encountered other
persons who made similar claims and was conducting research into these
stories." Scully shifted uncomfortably, finally betraying some of  her
inner turmoil. "He also disappeared during the course of our investigation. It
is my belief his family may have further information about his work and
research and this, in turn, will lead to our missing witnesses."

"Just what kind of 'abduction' are we talking about?" asked Skinner, 
looking at Mulder, challenging him to tell him the whole truth for a
change.

"An abduction similar to Agent Scully's, Sir," Mulder replied - challenge
met.

"I see," Skinner repeated. He leaned back, thinking rapidly. So this case
begins and ends with what happened to Scully. Interesting.  But it was
time to rein these two in for a while. "I'm afraid I cannot devote any more of
this agency's resources to a case which has no solid leads."

"Sir, Dr. Moore's family...."

"May have no further information," Skinner finished Scully's sentence.
"Oregon's a big state, Agent Scully, and you don't even know where they
are, let alone, where Dr. Moore might be." He closed the case file. "That
will be all."

Scully opened her mouth to protest but her words died in her throat.
Without a glance at her partner or her boss, she walked out of the office.
Mulder looked as if he, too, wanted to argue with the AD, but simply 
followed Scully, shutting the door behind him.

The door had no sooner closed behind Mulder and Scully when the
intercom buzzed, startling Skinner out of his reverie.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but Agent Hardesty is here to see you."

"Thank you, Kimberly, please send her in."

Skinner stood and self-consciously straightened his tie. He smiled to
himself as he remembered what usually happened to his ties when Michele
was around. They still hadn't found his blue and red striped one.

"Come in," he said as she rapped on his office door.

"Director Skinner, thank you for seeing me without an appointment,"
Michele Hardesty said as she moved into the room, smoothing her 
cropped brown hair neatly behind her left ear.  She waited for the 
click of the door behind her, allowing a glance back to be sure that 
it was closed tightly before she glided across the floor into Skinner's
waiting arms.

After a proper and somewhat lengthy greeting, Michele finally pulled 
out of his embrace. "I've missed you."  Her deep brown eyes scanned 
his face, noting the deep lines of tension that rounded his mouth.  Her 
thick lips curved in to a cat smile before pressing against his again.  If
there was any stress in the man, she knew just how to relieve it.

His left hand ran through her hair; its silkiness pure pleasure 
against his fingers.  "Me too. How did you make out in Houston?" 

"About as we expected. Those guys could have handled things without our
help. That new SAC should have let his guys lose on this instead of
holding them back and calling us. There's a lot of resentment brewing down there."

He gave a thin-lipped nod.  "I'll take care of it. I had my doubts about
putting him in charge but I was outvoted. Thanks for going down and checking
things out for me."

"No problem."  Michele ran a well manicured finger over the tip if his
thick chin.  "Except you owe me one very nice dinner and something special for 
dessert." Her wicked grin told Skinner she wasn't referring to food. "Was
that Mulder and Scully I saw leaving here? She seemed upset."

Skinner sighed. "Yes. They just got back from Chicago. Something
happened there but you'd never know it from the report they submitted."
He restlessly paced to the office window. "Sometimes I wish they would
just drop their guard long enough to tell me the truth."

"You know why they can't, Walter. It may be best for you not to know
everything."

"Michele, I can't accept that. They are two of my agents. I can't protect
them if I don't know what's going on."

"I know." Michele sighed as she walked up behind him, wrapping her arms
around his chest. "At least I hope they were able to work out their
personal troubles."

"What are you talking about?" Skinner turned to face her, keeping her
close to him.

"Didn't you notice? Things seemed rather 'tense' between the two of them
for awhile. Everyone was talking about it. I just attributed it to the
strain of trying to keep their relationship a secret."

Skinner froze. "What relationship?"

"Walter, don't tell me you didn't know. You can be so unobservant 
sometimes." She smiled to take the sting out of her words. "Maybe 
you should sit down."

They moved back to the chairs recently vacated by the subjects of their
conversation. Michele retained a hold on Skinner's hand. She'd been gone
almost three weeks and had missed his touch more than she cared to admit
even to herself. "Walter, I don't know for sure but I'd be willing to bet
that Agents Mulder and Scully have been more than just partners for close to a
year now. It would be my guess that things changed when they were
involved in that Frank Kellogg investigation."

"What makes you say that if you don't have any proof?"

"Walter, all you needed were eyes! The way they looked at each other;
they way they were always so aware of each other, it was obvious."

"Oh, that," Skinner scoffed. "They've always had a close relationship. I
noticed that when Scully was missing those three months but they'd
never...."

"I know they've been close. That's not what I'm talking about." She shook
her head in exasperation. "Men can be so blind about things sometimes.
You're going to need to trust me on this, Walter. Don't be surprised if
you get a wedding invitation from those two within the next year."

"But they work together. They wouldn't jeopardize the X-Files. Mulder
worked too hard to get them reopened."

"I'm sure that's true. They've been very discrete. Actually, too discrete.
That's what tipped me off that there might have been some trouble. I 
missed the normal kidding around.  From what I've heard and saw just
now in the hallway, things seem better."

Skinner sat back in amazement. Now what was he suppose to do? He
didn't know he really wanted to do anything at all. Still....

"Walter, I don't know what you've got boiling around in that rugged little
head of yours but leave those two alone. If I ever saw two people who
needed each other, it's those two. So, as long as they do their job and
are discrete, it's none of your business."

"You're sure about all this, aren't you?" Skinner was prone to agree with
her.

"Yep. Leave them alone and see what happens. You'll know how to help
them when the time comes."

Michele's words struck a spark. Help them? He remembered the look on
Scully's face as she requested time to hunt down that consultant's family.
There was something more there that she didn't feel comfortable sharing.
He wondered if this had to do with her own abduction. Mulder had hinted
that it did. What if this had been Michele? How would he feel?

"What?" Her voice gripped his heart as he thought about what it would be
like if he'd lost her.

"Nothing. I was thinking that there might be a way of helping them now."
He grinned as his thoughts took shape. 


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

Scully's Apartment
5:48 PM


"Because I don't think you're ready!  Okay?  There!  I said it."  Mulder
stood leaning over a fuming Scully on the couch.  Her arms and legs were
tightly crossed, and her blazing blue eyes glared up at him.

"That is not your decision to make."

Mulder slapped his thighs in frustration.  "Not a month ago, you were
huddled in the corner of some hotel room in Chicago talking to your dead
sister!"  Scully closed her eyes and set her jaw.  He wasn't playing fair
to bring that up.  Not fair at all.  "And now you want to run all over the
country looking for people you don't know - and have no idea where to
find, I might add - without any kind of Bureau backing for an undetermined
length of time for no particular reason!  Scully, NO!"

"Fine!"  She screamed at him and leapt from the couch, only to march
angrily in to her bedroom and slam the door.

Mulder paused for a moment.  He wasn't expecting *that* response.  He
put an ear to the thin wood door, listening for any sounds of distress . . . 
like a possible sniffle, or maybe even a whimper.  Then, he could go in
and apologize for yelling, and explain that he was only looking out for her
and that he loved her.  But no such sounds occurred.

Instead he heard her moving about, the closet door opened and shut once
or twice, and there was a heavy zipper unzipping.  And was that her
dresser drawer slamming shut?  He opened the door to find her dropping
an arm full of undergarments in to a suitcase.  "What the hell are you
doing?"

She didn't stop in her packing.  "I'm going without you."

"What?"  She refolded the plaid silk blouse and neatly fit it in the
suitcase over the two pairs of jeans and her folded black turtle neck.  
"Scully, can't we talk about this?"

"Apparently not.  You've been yelling for the last two hours.  I'm tired
of the *conversation*."  Her increasingly sarcastic tone told him he was in
danger of completely loosing the reasonable side of Scully over to the
rarely seen, but highly emotional and stubborn side of Scully.  She tossed
in some socks and pulled her travel alarm from the drawer.  "I'll call you
when I find a motel."

"Scully, you can't go out there alone," he tried to be as rational as he
could.  "We're a team."

"That's what I've always thought," she said, folding a night shirt over
twice and stuffing it in between the sweaters and the jeans.  "But, maybe this
time, this is something I need to do on my own.  You went to Alaska . . .
and New Mexico . . . *and* got on that train . . . and -"

"And look what that got me!"  He pointed out triumphantly, as if that one
sentence made his case and point.  Scully on the other hand, didn't seem
to notice he'd said anything at all.  Mulder watched her disappear in to the
bathroom and return with various bottles that carried a mixture of Scully
smells on them.  "Look, don't make me say it."  His tone was harsh and
low.

She stopped mid-stride and looked at him.  "Say what?"

Mulder sighed.  Well, she forced him to it.  It wasn't his fault.  But he
*had* to do it.  Even Skinner had seen a trip to Oregon as a waste of
time. And Scully didn't need that.  She needed to stay focused on recuperation,
she needed to stay put and allow for a normal life for a while.  In short,
she needed to relax.  Hell, *he* needed to relax.  "I'm putting my foot down,
Scully."

Her eyes widened under raised eye brows.  "Excuse me?"

"Scully, I forbid you to go."

Her only response was a rich throaty laugh.  She deposited the toiletries
in to the suitcase and quickly zipped it up.  Then she clumsily pulled it
from the bed and walked it to the living room, and set it next to the door. 
Laughing all the way.

Mulder stood in the doorway to her bedroom, not at all feeling as if she
had taken his authority seriously.  "Scully, I'm serious.  I'm not going
to let you go." 

She looked at him playfully and put her hand on her hips.  "I'd like to
see you try and stop me."

His expression didn't change.  "I will if I have to." The sincerity in his
eyes caused a twinge of worry in her gut.  In the span of a second, she reached
for her purse, grabbed the suitcase, and was out the door.  

Mulder was right behind her, "Scully!"  What was she thinking? That she'd
make it all the way down to the car carrying a forty pound suitcase, *and*
get in to the locked car, *and* get it started *and* down the street
before he could catch up to her?  Was she out of her mind?  Women.  Go figure.

She didn't even make it to the middle of the hall before Mulder caught up
to her and with one arm, slipped her over his shoulder and carried her
bodily back to her apartment; suitcase slamming against the back of his
calves.  Every step, the case nearly knocked him off balance, but she
refused to give up her hold on it.  "Let me go!" she screamed, "Put me
down!"

The little old man in the apartment across from her peeked out his door.
Scully called for him, "Mr. Klein!"

"Do you want me to call the police?"  His small weak voice asked from
behind the chained door.

Without thinking, Mulder turned swiftly to the man and shouted, "No!"
Mulder's awkward - and all too abrupt turn - slammed Scully's head 
squarely into the door frame.  She called out in pain, and released the 
heavy suitcase.  Mulder reacted the second he felt the impact through 
her, and pulled her down in front of him, "Oh, geez, Scully, I'm sorry."  

"Bastard."  A hand went to her temple, and she wore a small pout on 
her mouth.  No blood.

The door across the hall started to closed, and Mulder reached out a 
hand as if to stop it.  "Everything is fine," Mulder tired to convince 
the man, with limited success.  He turned Scully to her neighbor.  
"Scully tell the nice man you're fine and not to call the police."

Still holding her head, she swayed slightly in Mulder arms.  "Everything's

okay, Mr. Klein."  Her knees wobbled a bit, and Mulder pulled her in to
her apartment and closed the door before the situation could get any worse.

She fell back against the wall, her head throbbing with the profanities 
she wanted to scream.  "Are you trying to kill me?  There have to be 
less painful ways." 

He pulled her to the couch.  "Sit down.  Let me look at your head." Her
face was flush, and with a gentle finger he could feel a small bump rising
just above her left temple, well past her hair line.  "Do you want some
ice?"

She flinched at the pain his touch caused, "Leave me alone, Mulder." He
sat back on the coffee table and waited for her to look up.  And when she
did, she repeated her last phrase.  "Leave me alone."

The ache of waking tears shot through his eyes at her gut-wrenching
request, sending a burning sensation through his entire face.  He shook
his head.  "I can't."  Scully exhaled heavily, and sat back in to the couch,
with a hand to her throbbing head.  "I don't understand this obsession with
finding Moore's family, but I guess I can't really stop you from going." 

Scully looked up at him.  "No, you can't."

"So, I guess, I'm going to have to go with you after all."  Mulder added
silently as a mental note, "And maybe I can get you to relax a little;
turn this in to more of a vacation." A moment passed while Scully studied his
eyes and a smile broke out on her face.  Mulder added for her benefit:
"Can't break up the team." 

"Can't do that."  Her face became very solemn again.  "But Mulder, that
crap about putting your foot down - don't pull that again.  That's not how
we work.  That's not how I work.  Got it?"

"Understood, Agent Scully."  He gave her a mock salute to lighten the
moment, but she didn't laugh.  "I'm really sorry, Scully.  I won't do that
again.  I just got  scared that maybe . . ."

"Maybe what?"

"I don't know."  He shrugged.  "Male insecurities. I just want to know
that my opinion matters to you."

She smiled her Mona Lisa smile and leaned forward to him, ignoring the
dull throb behind her eyes.  "Your opinion *does* matter, Mulder.  Even
when I ignore it and go with my own." And ever so gently, she brushed her
lips over his, adding her own type of sugar to the medicine of her words.

They broke apart as her phone rang.

"Hello."

"Agent Scully?"  Skinner's voice was the last one she expected to hear and
was the last one she wanted to hear.

"A.D. Skinner? Yes, sir," she answered tightly. Mulder looked up at her
response.

"Agent Scully, I was looking for you and Agent Mulder when I was told
you had both left for the day. I hope there's nothing wrong."

"Uh, no sir. There was just some work we decided could be done from
home, ah, *my* home," she corrected, blushing furiously. Mulder's grin at
her faux pas did nothing for her composure.

Skinner cleared his throat. "I see. Well, there's a case that's come to my
attention that I want you and Mulder to look into."

"A case?" Scully's stomach sank with the implications. A new case meant
postponing her trip to Oregon.  Something she wasn't willing to do. 

"Yes. It's not something you and Mulder normally investigate but
nevertheless..."

"What does it involve?" she asked biting her lip.

"Tax fraud, and a possible illegal alien ring."

There was a moments hesitation while Scully shot a bewildered look to
Mulder.  His brows rose and he mouthed a "what is it?" 

"Sir, isn't that a matter for the IRS? I don't understand..."

"The file will be waiting on your desk, Agent Scully. I expect you and
Mulder to arrange for transportation to Oregon as soon as possible."

Scully sat back in to the sofa, not quite sure if she'd heard him
correctly.  "Oregon?"

"Is there some problem with this, Scully?"

"Uh," she shook her head, "No, sir."

"Good. Oh, and Scully, I do not want another incomplete report like the
one I got from Chicago.  I expect you and Mulder to stay out there for as
long as necessary. Do I make myself clear?"

"Uh," she stammered again.

"And when you and Agent Mulder return, I expect things to get back to
normal around here.  Or as close to normal at things ever are.  Is *that*
understood?"

She gave a tentative: "Yes, sir. We'll stay out there as long as necessary
. . ." 

"Is there anything else?"

"No, sir. Just . . . thank you," she breathed.  Could he really be saying
what she thought he was? Was he allowing them the time they needed to find
Moore's daughter and granddaughter? Another pause, then the clink broke
the connection.  She felt dazed by Skinner's actions, by the meaning
behind the words. "He knows," she thought aloud. 

Mulder was hovering over her, concerned but patient. He caught his breath
when Scully looked at him with her face glowing with her smile. "Knows
what?" he asked simply.

Her eyes were brilliant pools staring up at him, "Get packed, Mulder.
We're going to Oregon."

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


Being and nonbeing give birth to each other,
Difficult and easy complete each other,
Long and short form each other,
High and low fulfill each other,
Tone and voice harmonize with each other -
   it is ever thus.
     -Tao Te Ching


Tuesday, April 2, 1996.  9:34 PM.
The Mark Anthony Hotel, room 502.
Ashland, Oregon.

              
The flight out to the west coast was a horrendous experience for both of
the agents.  After their original plane was grounded in Denver (instead of
Portland due to bad weather), the airline put them on the next available
flight out; which, after four hours of running around from gate to gate,
happened to be a turbulent adventure to the ice covered Twin Cities or
Minneapolis/St. Paul.  From there they barely caught a flight out to
Seattle, changed airlines and got down to San Francisco just as the fog was rolling
in.  Three hours later, the last leg of their trip - the propellered
puddle-jumper - got them in to the tiny airport of Medford, Oregon.  
All total, fifteen hours of flying (and not flying) had wiped them out.  
Exhausted, they rented the last car in the lot, and drove to the nearby 
town of Ashland: their final destination.  

Scully idly watched the view as Mulder drove down Ashland's one main 
road on the way to the town's only hotel. Small shops dotted either side 
of the street, each pin neat and expected in such a tourist attraction; a 
book shop, tiny clothing boutiques, a picture perfect ice cream parlor. 
A fountain stood in the town square where the road forked in two 
directions, one leading up into the mountains, the other, back to the 
airport. 

Most of the town was devoted to it's main attraction; the theaters 
which housed the Shakespearian festivals. Flags, showing which plays 
were currently running, lined both sides of the street. Just beyond the 
theatres was a tall building, a large parking lot in it's rear. The two
weary agents checked in to the historic Mark Anthony Hotel.
           
In their magnificent room, Mulder laid himself across the bed and reveled
in the feel of his lanky body stretched flat on the giving surface,  "Oh, 
Scully, the bed is perfect."
              
She sat, still in her tasteful navy pants suit at the small table next to
the door. Lifting the top on her power book without a glance to her partner,
she gave an indifferent: "Good. Keep it warm for me." 
              
Intrigued, Mulder propped himself up on his elbows. "What are you doing,
Scully?"  He could see her lips moving as she read from the tiny screen.
"Hey, Scully?" 
              
"Hmmm?" 
              
"Aren't you tired?  Come and lie down."  When she didn't respond he
seductively patted the thick, exquisitely intricate bedspread.  "I can
make it worth your while." 
              
She turned and lifted the phone by the bed. "I'm expecting an E-Mail from
Agent Pendrell.  He thought he could get me some social security records,
and possibly some voter registration information." She quickly connected
her modem to the phone and the familiar squawk of initialization rang
through their ears.  Now that she was finally here, Scully could barely 
contain her impatience.  She had waited for this since the trip back from 
Chicago after finding the pictures of Moore's family in his deserted lab.
              
"Oh, come on, Scully.  No more work today. There's no point.  Let's order
some pizza and watch a dirty movie, okay? What do you say?"  But she
didn't say anything. She clicked through the menu program and began
reading her mail. "Scully?"  He laid back on to the bed and stared up at
the vaulted ceiling. "So this is what it's like to talk to the walls."  So
much for the 'getting-Scully-to-relax'  idea.  

He shouldn't have been surprised at her reaction; he'd seen it often
enough in the past.  Hell, most of the time, he  was the "driven" one in their 
partnership.   Mulder couldn't let go of his memories, however of Scully, 
sick and confused,  shaking in his arms when her symptoms were at their 
worst.  She *seemed* fine now.  The transformation in to wellness had 
been almost immediate after their encounter with a light just over a month

before.  The symptoms had disappeared.  The distress was gone.  The old 
Scully, in all of her beauty and glory, was back with him.  And he wanted 
to keep her that way.

What she needed now, he mused, was a little diversion.
              
"You gave Frohike my new E-Mail address." It wasn't really an accusation,
more of a statement of fact, but Mulder quickly sat up on the defensive,
shaken abruptly out of his reverie.
                           
"I most certainly did not." He replied indignantly. "But he did ask."  She
peered at him over her glasses. "I didn't tell him, Scully! "
                           
"Then why do you look so guilty?" 
                           
"Original sin?" 
                           
Scully scoffed and went back to the screen. "Well, he says here that
they're out west somewhere at a UFO convention, and not to worry if I
don't hear from him for a week or two.  God, I hope we don't run in to
them."
                           
"A week or two?  How often do you hear from him?"
                           
"When he's able to get my address - every day or so." Mulder blinked and
laughed.  Poor Frohike. The guy just didn't know when to let go.
                           
It was time to put his plan in to action.  With a seductive curling of the

corners of his mouth, he lured: "Come on, Scully, come to bed." But she 
was engrossed in the information flickering across the screen. "Scully.
Oh, Scullster . . .."  
                           
She didn't look up from the screen. "Don't call me that." 
                           
"What?  Scullster?"   A new look of gentle amusement smeared itself
across his face. "Don't you want a pet name?" 
                           
"No. 
                           
He rolled his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know,
Scullster kinda fits you.  I could call you the Scullinator, or Shorts-"
                           
"Shorts?" 
                           
"Naw, I like Scullster." 
                           
"Don't call me that." 
                           
"Then come to bed." There was a moment of a deep sigh and then the click
of the computer and modem turning off before he felt her comfortable
weight on the bed and then crawling over to him. "Okay, Mulder,
I'm here.  But I'm too tired to do anything except sleep tonight," she
slowly admitted, forcing her impatience to curb. 
                           
"Me, too," he mumbled slipping his arms around her warm torso, pulling
her up on top of him. He took in a deep sigh and breathed her in. God, she
smelled good.  How did she do that?  More than half the day on a plane or
in crowded, unfriendly airports and some how she *still* managed to carry
the softest hint of flowers on the nape of her neck. She pulled herself up
off of his chest, so she sat straddling him, her cotton pants capturing all
of the heat from his groin.  His hands found her breasts.  
                           
"Mulder, I said not tonight." Her voice lowered considerably as his steady
hands made small circles against the weighty mounds that rested in them.
She felt the pleasuring pain of her nipples tightening in response. 
"Mulder," she warned.
                           
"Hmmm?" he asked, his hands slipping to her waist to unfasten the button
there. 
                           
"Aren't you tired?"
                           
The zipper on the front of her pants slipped down without any resistance. 
"Exhausted." 
                           
She felt his hands slide under her pants, around her hips to squeeze the
firm flesh of her bottom through her panties. The moan that escaped her lips
simply couldn't be helped.  Neither could the grin that suddenly appeared
on his face when she rocked her hips forward against him.  "You don't play
fair," she whined and lowered herself back down on to his body. He felt
solid below her. And alive.  And pleasantly aroused, which was infinitely
more arousing to her. Until she felt a hand slip between then and sneak
its way inside her  panties. That, then, became the focus of all of her
attention. 

His thumb resumed a light stroke against her nipple.  "Are you sure you're
too tired?" his words slurred together on a small yawn.
                           
". . . Too tired. OK?" she whispered. Her voice came out in a grunt. 
                           
"Fine," he was barely audible.
                           
She gasped softly as his fingers found her pleasure point and rubbed . She
could feel more than hear his triumphant chuckle as they came away moist
with the evidence of  her arousal. Scully tried to control her breathing
and heart rate which had both been steadily rising but decided she was
fighting a losing battle. She rolled onto her back in order to allow him better
access. "Alright, Fox.  You convinced me," she murmured, waiting for him to roll
on top of her.  "Fox?"
                           
There was no response except for a small snore in her ear. His right hand
lay between them, still glistening from her desire of him. "Fox?" she said
a little louder.  Another deep snore. She whimpered in frustration as she
realized he had fallen asleep in the middle of his seduction. "Romeo,
you're a dead man," she grumbled and tried to find a comfortable position, now
wide awake.
                           
                           
*************************

Wednesday, April 3, 1996.
Room 502.
Sunrise.
                           

Mulder stirred in his sleep, smiling as he dreamed of a warm, wet mouth
between his legs; surrounding him, sucking firmly in a steady rhythm. He
recognized the rush of blood to his  groin, knowing he was getting hard as
the pressure built higher and higher. His heavy hands made their way
towards the source of his pleasure and encountered soft, long hair and the
smooth skin of a cheek. Another set of warm hands moved his away,
pinning  them to his sides. A voice whispered, "Don't move." 
                           
"Scully?" He raised his head slightly reorienting himself to the room.
Early morning sunlight streamed through the window blinds.
                           
"Who else were you expecting?" she laughed before resuming the careful
attention she was giving his growing erection.
                           
"Hmmm, so good," he said, throwing his head back into the pillow.  Small,
involuntary thrusts moved his hips. "I think you have a definite talent
for this, Agent Scully."
                           
"No pet names in the bed room, please," she smirked as she cupped his
balls, slowly fingering the sensitive skin behind them, never faltering in
her rhythm. His thrusts became stronger. Moving to straddle him, she
concentrated on his tip, flicking her tongue in darting movements,
tormenting him with her teasing. 
                            
He reached up and clutched the rounded bottom that was just inches from
his face.  "God..." A tiny droplet formed at the opening of his penis
which she quickly lapped, making Mulder groan.
                           
"God, Scully! You're making me crazy!" he cried.
                           
"Good," she said and hopped over him to head for the green marbled
bathroom.
                           
"Where are you going?" he gasped, suddenly void of her contact.
                           
"Time to get ready for the day, Mulder. I'm taking a shower first." 
Suiting actions to words, she disappeared behind a closed door. He heard the lock
clink into place.
                           
"Scully? You're kidding, right? Scully?" He couldn't believe his ears as
he listened to the water start in the shower. "Scully!"
                           
The door opened enough for her head to poke out. "Tit for tat, Mulder.
Next time don't fall asleep on me." She gave him an angelic grin and
ducked back into the bathroom.
                           
Mulder's mouth dropped open. She couldn't mean... he grinned wickedly. 
"Two can play this game, Scully," he laughed softly.
         
****************  
     
"Mulder, damn it, stay on your side of the room," Scully demanded as he
once again pressed against her, supposedly knotting his tie.
       
"But this is the room's only mirror," he said reasonably, somehow
managing to turn a kiss to her earlobe into a normal part of the neckwear
tying process.

She knew what he was up to and loved him for it.  It was their first case 
together since Chicago.  The first one where they had openly opted for 
one room knowing what the consequences would be upon their return.  
They discussed it on the trip out, renewing their decision to put their 
relationship out in the open.  Keeping it a secret had almost destroyed 
them.  Mulder's games were a way of holding his fears at bay and 
diverting hers as well.  The least she could do was play along. 
       
"This is a double bureau with a mirror the size of Arkansas. A boy scout
troop could line up in front of it and not touch each other." His
*inadvertent* caresses to her bare back were sending little jolts
of electricity running up and down her spine. "Now move!"
       
He chuckled seductively and he obeyed her command, somehow brushing
his panted, but still obvious, erection across her bottom. She sucked her
breath in, trying to fight the urge to throw him onto the bed. You asked
for this Mulder, she thought. She reached into the closet and brought out a
deep blue silk blouse. It was one of Mulder's favorites since it
highlighted the color of her eyes. She slipped it on.
       
"Um, Scully. Aren't you forgetting something?"
       
"Like?"
       
"Like a bra," he gulped.
       
"I'm not wearing one today," she calmly stated.
       
"But, um, won't it be, er, chilly?" he finished lamely, trying not to
betray the added arousment that flooded through his veins.  Don't give her the 
satisfaction of knowing she's getting to me.  I can hadle this, I can
handle this.
       
"I'll be wearing a jacket." She purposely left one more button opened than
she normally would.
       
"Yeah, well..."
       
Glancing in the mirror for a final check on  her hair and make-up, Scully
grabbed her coat. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. No one will realize what
I *don't* have on under this," she flashed him a heavy-eyed, half-grin which
she knew devastate him and walked out the hotel door, "but you."
       
"This is going to be a long day," he sighed, following her. 
       
       
       ********
       
The Caesar Room,
The Mark Anthony Hotel,
Ashland, Oregon
7:08 AM
       

They entered the restaurant just off the lobby of the hotel and found a
quiet booth in the back of the room.  The light plucking of renaissance music
shifted through the rich textures of the wallpaper, casting an ambiance of
eclectic art.

Scully pulled the heavy velvet chair from the table and sank in to the
seat before slipping her purse on to her lap and retrieved the case file
Skinner had left for them in D.C. "I've been thinking about it and I still don't
understand how we got this case."
       
Mulder's eyes flowed over the calligraphy on the short menu.  "I thought 
you decided this was Skinner's way of getting us out here without the 
Bureau getting bent out of shape."
       
"I know but still.... Look at this," she said, handing him the memo she
received from agent Pendrell that morning. "There's only one count of what
amounts to simple tax fraud. And no real evidence of aliens, illegal or
other wise."

Mulder wiggled his brows at her.

"The local office could have handled this by phone."
       
He scanned the page.  "We know for certain this Social Security number 
belongs to a woman who died five years ago?"
       
"Yes. Her family was quite upset when they found out someone had
assumed her identity." Scully brushed her hair from her eyes, and her
blouse haphazardly  gaped open. Mulder swallowed hard and diverted his
attention by calling to the waitress, "Coffee."
       
"How did they find out?"
       
"Believe it or not, her father was a long distance trucker and a friend of
his drove through here about three months ago. Since there's only one
diner in town, this guy, of course, stops and is intrigued when
he catches this woman's 'name'. He goes home and tells his friend, who
does some checking, and tells another friend who has another friend, who
has another friend in the IRS." She sipped at the coffee sighing as the
hot liquid slid down to warm her inside.  Her lips traced the edge of the cup.
       
Mulder closed his eyes trying to erase the image in his mind. "Uh, yeah,"
he cleared his throat, "why did he bother?"  He looked down at his watch,
"There are lots of people with the same last name."
       
"Apparently not this last name. The family has never been large and are
very close knit. The father couldn't resist finding out about a woman
with the same name as his deceased daughter. When he found out she was
using his daughter's numbers for tax reasons, he contacted the Bureau."
       
Mulder nodded. It would be bad enough to lose a daughter let alone find
out someone had usurped her identity. "So we go check this out and
then...?"
       
"We can focus on locating Moore's family.  I'm hoping Pendrell will be
able to give us a starting point by tonight."
       
"Ok, Watson. We'll finish here and then head over to the diner."
       
"A frontal assault, Sherlock?" she asked.
       
"Don't see why not. At least we can go and ask a few questions of her
employer and maybe a few of the patrons and other waitresses." 

       
       *****

Natural Seasons Diner 
Ashland, Oregon
11:15 AM

The Diner was located on the main street of the small town, less than ten
minutes from their hotel..  Its cheery front window advertised vegetarian
foods and friendly service, and Mulder was happy to see that the
establishment seemed to live up to its promises.  The soda jerk behind the
counter, who couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen, explained
with a smile that the manager of the place was a Mr. Fuller, and he could
generally be found in his office in the back of the restaurant.  And he
was.
   
"Mr. Fuller? I'm Agent Scully."  Scully extended her ID with a small
smile.  "This is my partner, Agent Mulder. We'd like to ask you some questions
about one of your waitresses."  Mulder flashed his badge in the surprised
face of the balding, overweight man wearing suspendered pants, and a
cigar butt stuck between his teeth.

"Yeah? Which one?"
       
"Angela Naifa."
       
"Angie? What do you want with Angie?" Fuller moved to push papers and
yellowing folders off the one office chair and indicated that Scully
should sit with a nod of his head. She smiled her thanks.
       
"How long have you known Ms. Naifa?" Mulder asked, trying not to gag
on the stale cigar smoke that hung in the air.
       
Fuller shifted the stained blotter on his cluttered desk.  "About three
years.  I still don't understand what this is about."
       
"How well do you know her?"  Scully slid her self to the front of the
chair and recrossed her legs.
       
Her last shift was not overlooked by the heavy man, and he swallowed
thickly.  "Hardly at all. She's a private person, you know? She don't like
mingling much.  Spends her time either here or with her kid. Nice kid . .
. sweet but really stupid.  Angie, though, she was a good worker. I had no 
trouble with her the whole time she was here, you know?"
       
"Was? She's not here?" Scully asked, sitting forward.
       
"Nah. She took off a couple of weeks ago. Just came in one morning and
said something came up with her family and she had to leave. Still haven't
replaced her and the other girls are starting to get mad . . . but what's
a guy suppose to do?" He looked to Scully for sympathy.  "It's not like we've
got an excess of waitresses around these parts."
       
Mulder moved to stand behind Scully's chair, cutting off  Fuller's
whining complaint. "You have any idea where she was going?"
       
"Nah. Like I said, she just came in and asked for her pay and took off.
Had the kid in the car and said she was in a hurry, you know, so I gave her
her money and she just took off. Didn't even say good-bye to the others."
       
"Do you know her address?"
       
"Yeah. I got it around here someplace." Fuller started rummaging around
in his desk drawer, throwing out an increasingly large amount of crumpled
papers, old candy wrappers and half torn photographs. Scully smiled up at
her partner. "Looks like your filing system back home," she murmured.
              
A carelessly tossed picture caught her eye and Scully leaned forward to
pick it up. "Mr. Fuller, whose picture is this?"
       
Fuller looked up from his search and glanced at her blouse hanging
casually from the shadowed parting of her breasts. "Yeah, that's her. That's Angie.

And that's her little girl."
       
At Scully's stricken look, Mulder was at her side, pensively scanning the 
photo. There in her hand was the image of two people, a teenager with 
her arms wrapped around an older woman.  The family resemblance was 
astounding. It was the same resemblance he had noticed when he saw
the photo from Moore's lab. "Looks like we're killing two birds at once, 
Scully," he said quietly, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder. He
looked up at Fuller. "Got that address yet?"
       
       ******


The Way of heaven
   does not war
     yet is good at conquering,
   does not speak
     yet is good at answering.
               -Tao Te Ching


67 Hickorycrest
Ashland, Oregon
1:25 PM

       
The house was more or less what they had expected.  A simple two story
farm house styled structure with rotting wood planking and a rickety, 
unpainted service porch shading the entrance.  The small sign that 
proclaimed  'For Sale Or Lease'  along with a local real-estate number 
leaned wearily against the heavy oak.  The property, as a whole was 
over grown and run down.  A truly depressing sight.
       
Scully quickly jotted down the number and turned to her partner.  "The
neighbors?" 
       
He nodded and pulled his sun glasses off.  "You take the right side, I'll
take the left."
       
Scully nodded and started for the passenger side of the street and
stopped. "Mulder," she got his attention, "If Mary and Angela are the same person,
then this wasn't just a simple case of family estrangement."

"Right," Mulder walked to her side of the car, "and I doubt she's guilty
of anything illegal - other than tax fraud."

"Who are they hiding from?  Moore?  Or the people he worked for?"

Mulder squinted the sun out of his eyes, "I don't know.  Maybe the
neighbors can shed some light on this."

"Maybe."  No one was home at the first house that Scully tried.
       
Mulder, on the other hand, was greeted by about ten children, and a
haggard, middle-aged woman with an infant slung over her shoulder. 
Mulder went through the ritual identification process.  "I'm looking for
any information about the woman and the young girl who lived in the house
next door."
       
"That would be Angie and her girl, Jodie. Nice people. I was real sorry to
find out they left."
       
"You know when they left?"
       
"Yeah. Well not exactly. I didn't know for sure until the real estate guy
showed up. I walked over, you know, just to be a good neighbor but he
says he don't have any idea about where they was going and he couldn't
tell me nothing anyways."
       
Mulder nodded politely, ready to move on when the woman continued.
"Jodie, she was a real good kid. Helped me out with the baby sitting
sometimes. It was a real shame about her problem, you know?"
       
"Problem?"

"Well, we called it babysitting but it was really me watching her when
Angie pulled a late shift. Jodie could barely dress herself, let alone be
trusted with minding kids but she was real gentle-like. The kids liked playing with her
since she was dumber than they were."
       
A loud crash and a high pitched scream came from the inner recesses of the
house. "Oh, damn, now what," the woman asked with a long- suffering
sigh. "Here." Before he could protest, Mulder found the infant thrust into
his arms.
       
Mulder stepped in to the dusty house, following the sounds of childish
crying and the woman's muttering, avoiding stepping on the feet of the two
little red headed twins that found his height fascinating.  Much too
fascinating to move out of his way.  "Those two are MaryJane."  The
woman said over her shoulder.  "Don't know which is which, but they're
always together, so it don't make much difference."  
       
Mulder navigated around the twins and walked into the kitchen. Dishes,
pans and what looked like a week's worth of dirty clothes competed for the
limited space. An old dog, long past his prime, wandered over to sniff
Mulder's shoes in idle curiosity.  The girls laughed in an adorable round
of girlish giggles. 
       
He had taken the child on impulse, but the sudden inactivity of watching
the harried mother clean up the latest family crises, allowed him to take
a moment to stare at the wide eyed, drooling, chubby, baby. He was flooded
with a mild feeling of alarm. Mulder held the baby around it's middle
trying to decide just what do with it when it started making sounds.
Crying sounds.  The woman looked up.  "Oh, for heaven sakes, hold her
against your body.  She's not going to bite!" 
       
Mulder looked back at the child and pulled it against his chest.  She
instantly made a death grip for his lapels.  With a little bit of
shifting, he had the baby sitting on his right arm, while is left tried to work this
suit jacket out of the Fists of Iron. Mulder made a mental note that the next
time they went door to door, to let Scully take the left side.
 
The second house that Scully visited was home to an elderly gentleman
with a thick Russian accent.  Or Ukrainian, she thought, at the very
least.  He was tall and gaunt, and when he grinned, there were only three or four
teeth left, but his eyes held a genuine delight for his unexpected
visitor.  "Please,"  he said,  "come in.  I was just sitting down to tea."   
       
"Thank you,"  Scully replied hesitantly, "but I can't really stay.  I just
have a few questions about the people who used to live in the white house
a few doors down."  
       
"I see."  His whole physical frame seemed to sag in disappointment, but he
politely continued. "The woman and her child moved on about two weeks
ago."   
       
"Do you know where they were going?"   
       
"No.  No one even knew they were gone.  One day last week, a man came
and put the sign in the front yard.  That was how we all knew they had
moved.  Are you sure you won't have some tea?"   He pointed to the
enormous silver samovar against the dark wall in the adjoining dining
room.
       
"I can't.  Thank you, though.  Is there anything else that you can
remember about them that might help us to locate them?"   
       
The old man wrapped his tan cardigan tighter around his stomach,  "Are
they in some sort of trouble?"  
       
"No, sir, nothing like that.  Their family is trying to locate them." 
       
"Ahhh." The man nodded, and looked to the only picture on the
wood-paneled walls.  "Family is important.  It is the center of our
society. The root of our learning."   
       
Family, Scully mused. Fascinating what that one word could mean to 
different people; a 'center of society' or a focus of pain and suffering. 
She snapped her attention back to the older man standing before her. 
"Yes."   Scully nodded.  "It *is* important that we find them." 
       
He slowly nodded, and gave Scully possibly one of the saddest smiles she
had ever seen. "That will be difficult.  They do not wish to be found."   
       
"What?  How do you know that?  Did they say anything to you?"   
       
The man shook his head.  "Nothing needed to be said.  If they wanted to be
found, they would have left a forwarding address."   
       
Scully blinked.  His simplicity made sense.
           
"[Bee-iz tru-da na-volo-vich rib-ku iz pruda.]"    The man nodded to her
knowingly.  "If you do not bait your hook, you will not catch any fish. 
Roughly translated, anyway."   
       
Scully turned back to the front door. "Thank you, for your help, sir."   

"Please, my name is Pavlon." He held out a long thin hand that Scully
promptly shook.
       
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pavlon." Her smile told him that the
statement had been genuine, and not social.
       
"No, just Pavlon." Scully nodded to the elderly gentleman and headed out
towards the car, where Mulder was leaning on the hood.  His suit (as well
as his demeanor) looked as if he had seen a herd of elephants up close and
personal.
       
"What happened to you?" Scully laughed.
       
"Scully, I'm warning you now, I'm not good with kids."   
       
"What are you talking about?  Kids love you."  She smoothed his lapel.    
"It's the adults that you have to be careful of." She couldn't resist
adding,  "I'm sure if Cancerman was five years old, he'd be your pal."
     
Her attempt at humor was lost on him. "What did you get?"   
       
"Not much.  It seems that our friends," she motioned to the abandoned
house,  "left in a hurry two weeks ago. No warning to the neighbors."  
       
He squinted at the sun's reemergence from behind the clouds. "Yeah, that's
what I got. And the lovely woman with the litter of wild children had this
photo. It's more recent than the one we took from Fuller, so now we know 
what Amber looks like now. Oh, and she went by the name 'Jodie' while they
were here." 
       
"Angie and Jodie," Scully murmured. 

"You OK?" Mulder asked, sensing a change in his partner's mood. 

"Yeah, fine. I was just thinking of something Pavlon, the other neighbor, 
said about family." She gave herself a little shake and straightened to
her full height. "Why don't we check out the reality agency.  Maybe they have 
some sort of paperwork on Mary that could give us some information."
     
       
       
       ****************

McMahn and Santri Reality
Ashland, Oregon
3:22 PM
       
The two-laned boulevard added to the quaint old-town feeling of
Ashland, while the brightly colored flags hanging from the ornate lamp
posts reminded all that it was basically a booming tourist trap for the
nation's Shakespeare-junkies.  But then, the home of one of America's
largest classical theatre reparatory companies would demand nothing less. 
       
A small almond colored sign hung just outside the thick oak door, both of
which proclaimed: "McMahn and Santri, Reality Experts".
     
The agents walked in and were immediately greeted by a tiny man behind a
very large computer.  His stature was similar to a twelve year-old's,
except for the lack of child-like innocence.  In all actuality, the man behind
the wood desk sign that read  "Santri"  was in his late forties.  And his
smile said as much.
     
"Hello."  He greeted in his impish voice,  "Please have a seat and tell me
what you're in the market for."
     
No nonsense, Mulder thought, good.  Lowering himself in to the well
padded chair, Mulder began the conversation by flashing his ID.  "I'm
Agent Mulder, and that's my partner, Agent Scully."  He pointed with his 
chin to Scully, who was staring at some of the Polaroids tacked to the
wall near the entrance door.   "We're investigating a case of Income Tax
fraud."  Santri visibly flinched.  "Don't worry, it's not you we're investigating."
     
The man behind the desk tried to hide his relief by giving a little shrug.

"So what can I help you with?" 

"This house."  Scully pulled the photo from the wall and dropped it on his
desk.  "The woman who lived there, we need to see her records." 
     
Santri stared at the photo and then up at the two agents.  "I'm not even
going to ask if you two have a search warrant."   With one effortless
push, he slid across the floor in the wheeled desk chair, and came to a
calculated stop in from of the metal filing cabinet. 
     
Mulder looked up at his partner, who was standing unprofessionally close. 
She had her hands resting on her hips with her jacket swept open,
revealing the hard points of her breasts peaking under the full curves of
the silk.  He cleared his throat and Scully looked down at him.  Then at her
chest.  Quickly, she crossed her arms tightly against her torso, and
cursed her momentary lapse in body awareness.  She'd forgotten the choice
she made hours ago to remain braless.  Mulder, however, had not
forgotten.
     
"That was the one on Hickorycrest, right?"   Santri's fingers picked
through the files until her found the one he wanted and tossed it on to the
desk for Mulder.  
     
"That's all that we've got.  She was three months behind on the rent, and
when I went by a week ago to try and get some kind of a payment out of
her, there was days worth of mail in the box and a couple of papers on the
porch stoop."  Santri rocked back in the chair and twisted the curly brown
lock just behind his left ear.  "We retain a set of keys to all of the
houses we rent out.  When I saw that no one was home, I let myself in to check
the place out.  Most of the personal belongings were gone."
     
Scully studied the man's nervous behavior, "And you assumed she'd left?" 
     
Santri crossed his legs. "Well, I went and talked to her boss first. Over
at the Veggie Diner.  He said she hadn't been in to work for a while.  So
yeah, I figured we wouldn't be seeing her again.  I put the house back on the 
market."  
     
Mulder stopped flipping through the folder and looked up at the man. And
tried to sound like he had all of the authority in the world.  "I'm
confiscating this for evidence.  You'll have it back in a week or so." 
     
"Yeah," the man nodded, "Sure, just make sure I get it back. Gotta keep
the records current for good `ol Uncle Sam." His nervous chuckle left a
grimace on Scully's face. 
    

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


They hadn't gotten twenty feet from the squat building, Mulder's eyes 
glued to the bobbing mounds beneath's his partner's jacket the entire
time. She seemed to outwardly change without the simple undergarment. Her 
whole body language changed. She walked lighter, with more spring in her 
step. A spring, he noticed, that did incredible things to his libido.
Without warning, Mulder grabbed Scully's upper arm, and pulled her off the narrow 
walk and against a tall shade tree out of sight of the office window.  
His palms resting  against the rough bark on either side of her head.  
"You're making me  crazy," he whispered to her while his eyes roamed 
the skin afforded him by the unbuttoned neckline of her blouse. 
 
Scully smiled an evil smile and hugged the tree behind her.  His lips 
loomed just a breath from hers.  "I must have done something very bad 
for you to torture me this way."  Mulder wanted so badly to kiss her; to 
run his tongue across the sweet surface of her rounded lower lip.  But he 
fought it in an excruciating effort to torment her just a little bit.
     
It was working.  "Very bad," came out from her mouth as a breathy moan. 
Not at all what she had intended.
     
Mulder slowly brushed his cheek against hers until his lower lip hit the
gentle slope of her ear lobe.  "Let's go back to the hotel, Scully, and
let me finish what I started last night."
     
The throbbing ache between her legs screamed for his touch.  But he kept
his body close enough for only his body heat to touch her.  "Hmmm . . .
well, if you learned your lesson . . .."
     
In one swift movement, she slipped from the cage of his arms, grabbed his
hand, and nearly pulled him the rest of the way to the hotel.
       

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

The Way  gives birth to them, 
     nurtures them,
     rears them,
     follows them,
     shelters them,
     toughens them,
     sustains them,
     protects them.
It gives birth but does not possess,
   acts but does not presume,
   rears but does not control.
               -Tao Te Ching



The Mark Anthony Hotel, room 502
Ashland, Oregon
4:25 PM


The moment the hotel door was shut, Scully reached for his tie.  The day 
had been frustrating enough in more ways than one; there was no way she 
was going to suffer through the sweet frustrations of fore play if she
could help it. But Mulder had another idea in mind. He placed his hand over hers

and eased it off his person. Then he lead her to the bed and got her to
sit.  "Oh, Mulder, no more teasing."
  
"No," he said in a low, seductive voice, "I brought a surprise."
  
Her eyes opened wider at the possibilities his last phrase evoked in her
mind.  A surprise?  Uht-oh.  Images of porno videos and magazines
flooded past her eyes.  Was his wild past finally working its way in to
their love life?  She'd been expecting something like that all along, the truth
be told.  But in the ten months that they'd been intimate, he never once so
much as hinted at toys or sexual aids.  How would she react if he pulled a
pair of fuzzy handcuffs out of his bag?  A wanton smile etched it's way
across her face.
  
When he turned back round to her, cradled in his arms was a plastic
shopping bag.  He sat on the bed beside her and spread the contents out
for her to see.  A wide assortment of perfumed candles, two pastel bottles of
bath oils, a few packets of foam bath, a soft blue sponge, scented soaps
and bath gels, and a CD.  No quite what she was expecting.  And she wasn't
sure that she was all that relieved, either. 

"I got this stuff weeks ago." He gave her his patented sheepish grin. "I
was saving it for a special occasion."
  
Scully picked up the CD.  "Barry White's Love Songs?"
  
"The man is a love magnet."  He gave her a crooked smile.  "Or at least
that's that the checkout guy promised."
  
Scully sighed.  Mulder was trying to seduce her all over again.  A new
surge of love left a pang in her heart.  Just when she thought she
couldn't want him any more, he went and pulled something so romantic that she
could just burst.  She looked up at him and tried to keep her lower lip
from quivering.
  
The look in her eyes tensed his throat.  Tears weren't the reaction he had
anticipated.  A snide remark, most certainly; or maybe a kiss.  He gave
her a small head cock to one side and tried to insert his own dry blend of
humor.  "I would have like to have this all set up for you, but there was
no place to dump you for twenty minutes."
  
She couldn't resist a small chuckle.  "Oh, Mulder, you're such the
romantic." Then she said something that five minutes earlier she would
have thought impossible.  "I'll give you ten minutes, and go out for some
pastries and lunch."  Then she planted a firm kiss on his mouth and
released him with a small suck to his lower lip.  "Ten minutes, Mulder, that's all
you get."
  
"It's more than I want," he breathed in her perfume in the absence of her
body.  Then a moment later she collected her keys and was out the door.
Mulder wasted no time in setting up the bathroom.  He pulled the shower
curtain to one side and placed the candles all around.  Twenty in all. 
Then he filled the tub with pleasantly hot water, dropping the foaming bath
under the faucet.  The towels he refolded and placed on the toilet seat for easy
access.  What next?  He looked around and saw the CD sitting lonely on
the bed.  Oh, shit!  Where was he going to get a CD player?  He dialed
room service.
  
"Hello, front desk."  The man's voice was cheerful.  A good sign.
  
"Hi.  This is room 502.  Can I get a CD player sent to my room?"
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir, but the hotel doesn't stock CD players.  We have
extra radios, if that will  help."
  
"No,"  Mulder sat down on the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt.  "You
see, I have this Barry White CD -"
  
"Barry White?  Oh, man, I know just where you're coming from.  That guy 
is a miracle, I tell you.  Trying to get in good with the Missus?"
  
Mulder hesitated, "Well, we're not married, but yeah -"
  
"Oh, sorry.  You're girlfriend."
  
Mulder hesitated again.  He had never thought of Scully as his
*girlfriend*.  She was so much more than that.  But a suitable substitution didn't come
to mind.  "Do you know where I can get a CD player fast?  It's kind of a
necessity at this point."  It wasn't really, but Mulder figured looking a
little desperate might help his current situation.  Especially since the man on
the line seemed sympathetic.
  
"Look, I'm just about to change shifts," the man said as if Mulder were
his new best buddy.  "So, as soon as my relief comes, I'll bring *my* player
up to you.  You can just leave it at the front desk tomorrow morning."
  
"Oh, that would be great.  Thanks.  I really appreciate it."
  
"No sweat, man.  From one Don Juan to another.  Right?"
  
"Yeah.  Thanks."
  
Then Mulder hung up the phone and unzipped his pants.  "Girlfriend," he
repeated under his breath.  There's no way Scully would take that as a
compliment.   It sounded possessive, and trite.  Debutantes were
girlfriends.  Scully was . . ..  What the hell was she? The knock on the
door stopped Mulder in mid strip.  He already had his shirt and pants off, and
this briefs were around his ankles before it registered in his mind that
Scully probably wouldn't be knocking, and that it must be the generous man from
the front desk.  He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and wrapped it
around his waist before pulling the door open. 
  
There, standing huddled like the Lollipop Guild from Oz, were the three
Lone Gunmen.  Mulder's  heart dropped.  "This can't be happening.  What
are you guys doing here?"
  
Frohike lead the way in to the room.  "UFO convention, two towns over." 
He pressed his glasses farther up his nose and surveyed the room.  No
Agent Scully in sight.  
  
"You wouldn't believe the delusions some of those guys are under," Byers
interjected, following Frohike's lead.  He wandered in and pulled the
thick, neutral curtains closed over the large window in the front of the room.
  
"Yeah," laughed Langley, pushing aside the unopened bottle of scented
rubbing oil without a second thought and having a seat on the bed.  "Some real
nuts, there."
  
Mulder stood like a soldier on the front line, his hand on the open door. 
"Look, you guys, you can't be here."
  
Frohike nodded and planted himself firmly in the chair next to the window.

"Don't worry, we weren't followed."
  
"Although you may have been.  You know how easy it is to track you and
Agent Scully with your expense accounts."  Byers stuffed his hands in to
the pocket of his slacks.  "We can know within two hours what charges
you make on your Bureau cards."
  
"One room," Frohike muttered under his breath.  Mulder's eyes rolled into
the back of his head.
  
Then, in the open door, the man from the front desk appeared - enormous
CD/jam box in hand, and an equally large smile adorning his rounded face. 
"Here you go, sir," he said smirking at the towel around Mulder's hips and
the white socks pulled up to his mid calf.  The smirk, however turned in
to a look of confusion as his eyes slid, first to Byers in the center of the
room; then to a look of shock at Frohike in the Naugahyde chair to his left; and
finally to a sickly scowl as his eyes landed on Langley sitting sheepishly
on the bed.  "Just leave it at the front desk,"  he said and was gone before
Mulder could open his mouth and insist that it wasn't what it looked like.
  
Byers shifted feet.  "Wow, he looked sick."
  
"Mind if I use your bathroom?"  Frohike jumped up from the chair.
  
Mulder yelped a definite, "Yes!" and practically leaped to block his path.

The candles and oils were more than he wanted to get into with Frohike.  
  
But Mulder's intervention in his cross to the bathroom didn't seem to
phase Frohike.  Instead he looked up at Mulder with an almost stunned
expression, "Do you smell flowers?"
  
"No!"  Mulder snapped.
  
"What's going on?"  Scully stood in the doorway with a white box in one
and a bottle of wine and two wine glasses in the other.  "What are you
doing here?"she demanded, making a mental note to never leave Mulder
alone again.  Too much happened while he was alone.
  
"They were just leaving," Mulder's voice cracked.  He had to get the guys
out of the room before Scully decided this was all his fault, and came up
with more punishment.  God, he thought, this has to be a new form of hell.

Langley jumped up, an uncomfortable grin on his face, "Yes, we're leaving
now."  

Frohike looked to his friend, "Already?"

"Yes," Langley assured him, "we need to get back anyway.  We don't want
to miss the psychic putting all of those abductees under hypnosis."

Scully turned to the small table and set down the pastry box and wine. 
"Well, don't let me keep you," she muttered.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to miss the reenactment of the 'Close Encounters'
scene, either."  Byers was suddenly animated.  "What kind of pastries did
you get?"  Scully ignored him.

Frohike turned to Mulder, looking for some reason to hang out a little
longer.  "Would you and Agent Scully like to join us?"

Simultaneously, Mudler and Scully snapped, "No!"  And Mulder added, in
kinder tones, "We're here on a case . . .."

"Yeah," muttered Frohike, "Nice towel."  

There was an uncomfortable moment when Mulder thought his partner
might actually loose her cool and club the little troll, but then Byers
peeked in side the white box and asked again, "So what kind of sweets did you
get?"

"Get out!" Scully screeched.  "Get out now!

The startled Byers was out the door before any of them could blink, and
Langley wasn't far behind him.  Frohike brought up the rear with an
awe-filled, "What a woman . . .." and once they were clear of the door
frame, Scully slammed the door shut and bolted it.  Then she secured the
chain.

Mulder sighed, leaning against the dresser bureau, trying desperately to
come up with the words to mollify Scully for the unwelcomed intrusion. He
couldn't live through another day like the one that was just finishing.
God only knew what she *wouldn't* wear tomorrow. "Um, Scully?"

"Hmm?" She sat on the bed, kicking off her shoes.

"Scully, I'msosorryIdidn'tknowtheywereanywherenearbyIswear, honest."

She eyed him calmly, letting her gaze run lazily over his lanky form. "You
know, Mulder, the socks really don't do anything for that outfit." She
smiled.

He smiled in return.

They both burst out laughing as he dove on top of her. "Mulder!" she
screeched as he began pulling at the buttons on her blouse.

"Scully, so help me if you're not naked in the next thirty seconds, I will
not be responsible for my actions."  It took less than ten.

Once her blouse fell to the floor, he set on the task of ridding her of
skirt, hose and panties while kissing her passionately from mouth to toe.  His
hands slipped up her thighs as he realized there was no nylon resistance
under his fingers.  He looked down and saw what his fingers had already
told him - no hose.  "Now Scully, I know you were wearing hose this
morning . . .."

"I took them off in the car,  I didn't want them to get in the way."

"Ahhh."  His mouth worked its way around to her left earlobe.  "You're
such a brilliant woman, Scullster."

She kissed his neck, "Don't call me that."

Mulder's hands slipped higher and encountered not the soft smoothness of
satin and lace, but the already moist curls between her legs.  "Uh, and
the panties?"  His voice was hoarse.

"In the car."

"God, I've already missed all of the fun." 

"Not yet, Mulder."  She lifted her hips and let him slide her skirt off of
her and instantly wrapped her hands around his torso, pulling him back down
on to her.  "But you'd better hurry, or you will."  

He kissed her mouth and ran a hand down her left thigh, pulling it up and
around his hip, "I was going to run us a bath."

"Later."  Scully opened her legs to him and locked her ankles at his lower
back.  There was no way in hell he was going to get out of her embrace
before she had what she needed.

"Later," he echoed her.  "Later."

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

Two Hours Later.



"Fox, the water's getting cold again." Scully grinned as she felt Mulder
reach around her to run more hot water into the generously sized tub but
didn't open her eyes. It felt too good nestled here against him. The
candles were burning low, the melodious sounds of Barry White drifted in from the
other room and both partners were soaking in the pleasantly heated water.
Their previous session in the bedroom had taken the edge off their hunger
for one another but it was only an appetizer. Scully looked forward to the
main course.

"Think the oil is warm enough now?" he asked nuzzling her neck.  Earlier,
the bathroom had been flooded when Mulder poured cold body oil down
her back without warning.  Scully's sudden  jump up created a tidal wave
of suds and scents.  Placing the small oil tube close to a group of candles
resolved the problem.

"Should be," she murmured lazily. The heat from the water and their
mingled bodies was making her muscles heavy and her mind float to some
of their more erotic moments. She had a small satisfied smile on her face.

He reached a long arm up to the bottle and pulled it off the shelving.
Gently rotating it to evenly distribute the heat, he tested it in his
hand.  "Perfect." He dribbled the oil over Scully's chest, letting the drops
glisten down her breasts. Keeping the bottle within easy reach, he began to
massage the slick fluid into Dana's skin, starting near her collarbone and
working his way down. He loved the feel of her skin under his. He lowered
his head to suck on her earlobe, his tongue skimming the inner ridges, his
breath hot. As often as he'd held her, he still wondered how he got so
lucky. When had she become so important to him? She was the air he
needed to live. When did that happen?

Dana felt her heartbeat quicken as his fingers continued to work
their magic having reached her breasts. He slipped his hands under them,
gently kneading their weight, spreading the oil and heat with every
caress.  His thumbs lightly brushing her nipples caused her to gasp softly as they
tightened in pleasure. He chuckled deeply. She was so responsive to his
touch. His lips continued to explore her ear and the line of her jaw.

"Lay back and bend your legs up," he suggested.

After she resettled with her head resting on his stomach, the tendrils of
her hair floating on the water, he slowly poured more oil onto her knees,
allowing it to run down her thighs. She practically purred as his strong
fingers worked at the firm muscles, at once arousing and soothing. Scully
turned off her mind, giving herself over to his touch, allowing her trust
and love carry her further and further away on waves of pleasure. His hands
made broad circles, tracing the front and side of her legs. He reached
under the water and massaged her rear, pulling and pushing gently, until a soft
groan escaped her lips.

Another anointing with the oil left tiny rivulets along her inner thighs.
Smaller circles, now, slow and sensuous. Scully bit her lower lip to
stifle her moans. Oh God, Mulder, what are you doing to me, she wondered. She
thought back to the look on his face when she discovered him watching her
pleasure herself in the shower while they were in Chicago. This was
something he's been wanting to do since then, she realized, loving him all
the more for his generous love-making.  Her breathing was more ragged,
her skin flushed with the heat of the water and her arousal. Mulder's
hands, slick with oil and sweat, moved higher, closer to the source of her
pleasure. She felt a familiar pressure building as he continued to stroke her. "Oh!"
she gasped, unable to restrain herself as he touched a particularly
sensitive spot behind her knee. Moving quickly back to her center, his hands
persisted in his assault on her senses.

Scully started to squirm suggestively as his fingers teased and probed the
folds of her skin, water lapping against her. She was enfolded by Mulder's
body, strong and protective, his free hand playing with her breasts and
nipples. She thrust against his hand, silently begging for release.

Her entire being was focused on her body and the sensations his fingers
and lips were causing. Her control slipped dangerously as he opened her, his
thumb rubbing across her clitoris. She could feel his own arousal against
her upper back, could hear his rapid heartbeat sounding in synchronization
with her own. Her fingers tightened involuntarily on his legs which were
spread to either side of her and she whimpered her frustration.

"What do you want, Dana?" he whispered, seductively. "This? Is this what
you want?" His thumb vibrated against her sensitive nub as two fingers
entered her. He loved her. He loved being able to give her this pleasure,
knowing her so well that he could grant her wishes before she even knew
she wanted them.

"Ah," was best she could manage, beyond words and almost beyond
thought. Her moans echoed off the bathroom tiles.

"Tell me, Dana. Tell me you want this."

"Fox, oh God, Fox!" You, she wanted to scream. You're everything I
desire, everything I could ever hope to have. But she was too far passed
the ability to voice her thoughts.

"Tell me."

"I want this. I want you," she gasped.

Mulder quickened the rhythm of his movements, countering the thrusts of
Scully's hips.

"Fox, I'm c-com..." She couldn't form the words as she was swept under a
tidal wave of passion.

"Yes, oh Dana. Come, baby. It's all right. I love you, Dana," he murmured,
adding to Scully's satisfaction. With a final rub, Scully let out a high
pitch squeal and Mulder could feel her contracting around his two fingers. He
very nearly lost his own control as her orgasm carried Dana on wave upon wave
of pleasure. This was trust, he realized. She was so vulnerable right now
but she trusted him to protect her, to love her, to care for her so she
could give herself totally to the sensations and enjoy them to the fullest. The
thought brought tears to his eyes.

After a while, Dana's breathing and heart rate slowed to normal. She
turned in his arms, reaching up to pull his head to hers for a long, deep kiss.
Her radiant smile told him all he needed to know about his ministrations, to
thank him for his caring touch.

She carefully stood and stepped out of the tub, water droplets on her body
dazzling in the candlelight. She held out her hand. "C'mon, Fox. It's your
turn," she purred.



She gently toweled him dry, paying special attention to his manhood,
stroking his fullness until he was hard. Bringing the body oil, she pulled
him back into the bedroom.

"I was wondering why you had me call for those," he laughed as Scully
busied herself pulling down the bed's blankets and spreading clean, dry,
fluffy towels across the mattress.

"This might get a little messy," she said wickedly. "You don't mind a
little mess, do you, Mulder?" She poured some oil into her palms and rubbed her
hands together. 

He chuckled. "You've seen my desk, Scully. I live for mess."

"On the bed, face down," she instructed.

Looking at his aroused state, he moaned, "That might be uncomfortable."

"I'm sure you can handle it. Down," she said, pointing to the bed but
staring at his erection.

"I don't think that's even in the realm of extreme possibility," he
smirked over the double-entendre but complied with her orders.

She straddled his hips, settling herself, still naked, on his buttocks.
The feel of her warm dampness against his bare flesh made Mulder swallow hard.
She practically had to spread her body over his back to reach his
shoulders.  Mulder knew she did this deliberately as the tips of her breasts danced
teasingly. Other tantalizing bits of her anatomy coaxed his nerve endings
into a state of hyper-sensitivity. He was pressed firmly to the mattress,
his erection almost painful as the nap of the towel rubbed him.

Scully worked the oil into his shoulders and  upper arms keeping up a 
running monologue of naughty and suggestive observations about each 
muscle group. "Fox," she whispered in his ear, "did you know that this 
muscle right here," she placed her lips on his shoulder, "bunches up 
every time you touch me? Or that you give a little twitch right here," 
another butterfly kiss, "right before you come inside me?" She ran a 
fingertip over his upper arm, tracing it with her tongue. "I love watching
you as we're making love. I love the look of your body when it's 
making mine so happy."

He was quivering in anticipation as Scully moved further down his body,
pouring oil over the middle of his back. Her statements were  whispered in
a husky voice full of promise. "Do you know what it's like, Fox, when you
enter me? It's like you piercing my soul whenever I take you into my body.
I love feeling you inside me, moving inside me, feeling you love me,
taking care of me. How can I make you understand what that's like for a woman?
For me?" Her words washed over him, drowning him in emotions. "And
when you come inside me.... Oh God, Fox." She continued her massage,
her movements as smooth and flowing as her words. She pleasured herself
by rubbing against body, her hip thrusts miming the movements of love.

She repositioned herself by kneeling on the bed between his parted legs.
Without a word, she tugged back on his hips so that he too was on his
knees but kept his head buried in the pillows. She rubbed the back of his
thighs with firm strokes, moving up to his buttocks. She kneaded the
muscles and gently separated his cheeks, reassuring him when he tried to
raise his head. "Hush, now. Relax."

He gasped as she placed a small finger, still slick with oil, in his
rectum.  She slowly moved it in and out, making small circles. Bending her body
close to his, she was able to reach around him and encircle his manhood in
her other hand. Using a counter- rhythm, she kept up this two-prong
assault until he could stand no more. He moaned and bucked into her hand.

Summoning all his strength, he turned and grabbed Scully around the waist,
throwing her onto the bed.

With a groan, poised over her, he caught her eyes with his own. Her eyes,
dark with passion, looked like two sapphires.

"Now, Fox, please."

It was all the encouragement he needed as he plunged himself into her
savoring her warmth and tightness.

Neither was in the mood for gentleness. Nerves taunt from sex play, their
thrusts were hard, fast and wild. His teeth grazed her shoulder, biting
into the tender flesh. Her nails raked his back, sharp but not enough to draw
blood. She wrapped her legs around his torso and he pushed himself into
her as deep as he could go.

Scully came first, her scream cut off by his mouth clamped over hers.
Mulder's cry of pleasure came a moment later.

He laid still on top on her, too relaxed to move, too content to leave the
cocoon of her body. "Am I too heavy?" he asked.

"No. Stay." She wrapped her strong arms around him. He was always
amazed by her strength.

"Hold on," he whispered. Holding her tightly to keep her in position, he
turned to his side, staying inside her. "I don't want to squash you."

She laughed softly, causing her muscles to milk him gently. He kissed her
neck licking away the salt of her sweat. She felt him growing hard again
within her. "Mulder?"

He grinned by way a reply and started moving his hips. This time their
love making was tender and when they climaxed together, it held the promise
of their commitment to each other.


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


Act through nonaction,
Handle affairs through noninterference,
Taste what has no taste,
Regard the small as great, the few as many,
Repay resentment with integrity.
         -Tao Te Ching


Caesar Room
Thursday, April 4, 1996.
10:02 AM.


"What's the matter with you this morning, Mulder? You're moving like an
old man," Scully observed as they made their way out of the diner where
they had breakfasted.

"Shut up, Scully. I'm not as young as I used to be and you almost killed
me last night." He lowered his voice as an older couple passed them in the
doorway. "Besides, you can't tell me you're not at least a little sore
yourself."

"I beg to differ," she said indignantly. In truth, it was all she could do
to walk without waddling but she was *not* about to let him know that.

"Let's get to the real estate office and get that key. I don't know why,
but I  have the feeling something may have been left behind at the house that
might give us a clue as to where Mary and Amber ran off to."

"I hope so, Mulder. The sources I had and Skinner's file got us here but
I'm not sure where to begin if this doesn't pan out." A small frown marred her
normally smooth brow. She had convinced herself that she'd find Moore's
family; that it was important for her to do so. But somewhere in her gut 
was the certainty that it was equally important to Moore, Amber and Mary 
that she find them soon.

"We'll find them, Scully. It may take a little time but we'll find them."

"I know but I have the feeling time is something we're running out of."


*****

67 Hickorycrest
Ashland, Oregon.
2:49 AM.

Scully fumbled with the keys as she tried them, one by one, in the lock
for fit. She couldn't control the slight flutter she felt each time she
thought of how close she and Mulder had come to finding Moore's family. Two
weeks. If only they had moved quicker. She cut off that line of thought as
being too negative. Scully had been trying to practice some of the ideas
she had read about in the books Missy had left behind. Wishing for things she
couldn't change would only make her angry and frustrated. But it was hard.
Two lousy weeks.

Finally finding the proper key, she turned the lock and opened the door.
Mulder was right behind her. Both agents kept their coats tight about them
to ward off the chill in the air. Despite the furniture left behind, it
was obvious the house had been deserted. Sounds echoed hollowly through the
rooms; each of their steps magnified tenfold.

With a nod of her head, Scully indicated her intention of exploring the
kitchen. Mulder headed for the stairs. Taking one at a time, he finally
stood at the doorway to the master bedroom. The instincts he'd honed in VCS
kicked in as he carefully took in the evidence of the hasty departure- the
old tennis shoe which dropped unnoticed from an overstuffed box, the
stack of Women's Day magazines on the floor by the bed she'd used to help
her fall asleep. A sweater draped carefully over a chair but still
forgotten in the rush. He could sense Mary's panic as she hurried Amber through her
own packing. Would the girl be silently compliant? Or would she, with
typical teen-age arrogance, be demanding of answers that Mary would be
hard pressed to give. No, he knew from his interviews that she wasn't a 
'typical' teen. At best, she would quietly question Mary as to why they 
had to leave. 

Mulder wandered into the second bedroom, located towards the front of
the house. This would have been Amber's room. He gazed around,
absorbing whatever impressions were left, leaving his mind open to them
all. The time for analysis and judgements would come later. He walked
further into the room, focusing now on its erstwhile occupant. What was
she like? Would she have had friends? Did this room hold the secrets of a
young girl forced by circumstances to live covertly, hidden from the
world.  In his mind's eye, he pictured her sitting on the bed doing girl things.
Did she giggle? It seemed that Samantha was always giggling but then she had
been a happy girl and that was a long time ago. With the long gone
laughter still echoing in his ears, Mulder picked up a discarded copy book
partially hidden from view, under the bed. He flipped through the pages,
his eyes widening after a moment as he grasped what he was seeing.

"Scully!" He headed for the stairs.



"I don't understand. What am I looking at?" Scully stared at the notebook
full of mathematical formulae trying to decipher their meaning.

"Look at it, Scully. Look at the handwriting. If it weren't for the
content, how old would you estimate the writer to be?"

"I'd guess pretty young. Judging from the poorly constructed and oversized
lettering, I'd say a child of about six or seven."

"Flip to the front," Mulder instructed. He was standing behind his
partner, reading over his shoulder. The first page held the inscription "Jodie's
Book" written in smooth, flowing script. Under the heading, the name "Jodie",
was printed in the same childish handwriting seen throughout the rest of
the book.

"Mulder, I'm still not sure what you're driving at," Scully said, a frown
of concentration marring her brow.

"Remember what that neighbor said? She said Jodie had a 'problem'.  That 
she could barely dress herself. And Fuller, back at the diner?  He called
her sweet but stupid.  Does this look like the work of someone stupid?" he
asked, pointing to the notebook.

"Are you suggesting that Amber's hiding her mathematical talent?
Pretending she's retarded?"

"No. She's lived here too long, knew the people around here too well to
have kept that kind of deception intact."

"Then what...," Her head jerked up. "Maybe she's an idiot savant."

Mulder shook his head. "Savants can do some amazing things but they're
like parrots. They can copy what they've seen or heard or act like a
calculator doing basic arithmetic but they can't create new things."

Scully looked back at the pages. "Well, maybe she saw this somewhere and
just, uh, just copied it from memory."

"Scully, look at this stuff. Where was she going to see formulae like
this? I doubt Mary was auditing a course in Advanced Calculus and theoretical
constructs."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm not sure yet but we know that Moore was involved with something at
NIH, something that scared him enough to hide his family and force him
into a completely different field."

"You think this," Scully nodded at the book, "has something to do with the
project he saw?"

"Maybe." Mulder paced the room, his mind turning over the possibilities.
"As much as I hate to say this, I think we need to give the boys a call.
I'd like them to take a look at this and see if they can find out what these
equations are related to."

"Mulder," Scully groaned. She gave him a look but knew he was right. This
was not something they could send through official channels. "All right.
But you deal with them, Mulder. I don't have the energy."

He grinned and walked over to give her a quick hug. Bending close, he
whispered, "So you admit I wore you out last night."

"Not in this lifetime, Mulder," she replied primly. The sound of his
chuckle followed her from the room.

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

The Mark Anthony Hotel
Ashland, Oregon
5:23 PM


"There's no sense speculating on this anymore, Mulder. You'll just give
yourself a headache," said Scully as they walked from the car to the motel
room. "Let's change, have dinner and then we can decide what to do next."

"You're right. I still don't believe that jerk at the real estate office
though." Mulder fit the key into the lock and opened the door, his head still
turned towards his partner. "He knows more than he's saying and...." Mulder's
voice trailed off as he surveyed the shambled which had once been their
room. He pulled his gun, signaling for Scully to do the same.

Clothes were strewn on the floor, the file was torn apart, pages ripped in
half. The linens were stripped from the bed as if in anger. Quickly
scanning the room for intruders, Mulder headed for the bathroom, Scully at his
back. Both rooms were empty.

Re-holstering their weapons, the agents made a more careful inspection of
the damage.

"Mulder! The computer's gone!" Scully moaned as she moved the
wreckage of a lamp from the desk. "All our notes were in there."

"You think that's bad, Scully, imagine the look on Skinner's face when we
have to tell him we got another hotel room trashed -- lamp included."

"Knock, knock."  To their annoyance, Frohike stood in the open door with
two pizza boxes balanced over his right shoulder.  He gave once glance
around the room as he made his entrance, "Redecorating?"

Byers came in behind him, "We brought over some dinner, Frohike's treat. 
What happened here?"

Scully rolled her eyes and plopped down on the bed.  There was no
escaping them.  They were like the 90's version of Montezuma's Revenge.

Frohike, in his checkered vest and polka-dotted silk bow tie,  turned a
concerned eye from Scully to Mulder and tried to hush his voice, "She
didn't do this, did she?"

"I most certainly did not!"  Scully's indignant tone nearly bowled the
little man over.  "And as much as I may regret this later, Frohike, if you have
something to say to me - then say it.  Don't talk about me as if I'm not
in the room."

Mulder nodded to his friend, "Yeah, and don't call her Scullster, she
hates that, too."

"Shut up, Mulder."  Scully crossed her legs and surveyed the damage. 
"Who the hell would do this?  Who even knows we're out here?"  She eyed
Byers, who, had seated himself at the small round table and was helping
himself to the open pastry box.  "Besides the Wonder Geeks."

"Hey," Langley protested, "that's personal."  Then his gaze fell on the
small silver disk, no larger than an dime, attached to the headboard.  "I think
I know how we can find out who did this . . . possibly . . .."

Mulder's head popped up from under the bed, "How?"

Langley turned to Byers and grinned, "Blindman."



Five minutes later Frohike and Langley scurried around the equipment that
had been hauled in from the van and set up on the round hotel table. 
Cords and leads cris crossed the floor, but Scully didn't care.  She sat on the
bed relaxed against a pillow and the headboard, chewing a piece of olive and
sausage pizza.  "Now, tell me, Byers," she smacked, "*who* planted the
bug again?"

"It's not really a bug, as such," Byers offered from his perch on the
bureau. "It's more of in information collection device.  All of the audio
information is stored digitally on the unit, itself, and then harvested at a later
point in time.  It's cutting edge technology, really.  With it we can distinguished
over 78 million distinct sounds - more than the human ear.  Anything from
the make and type of a refrigerator kicking on to a mouse sneeze."

"Hmmmm..."  Scully chewed.  Picking a small piece of cheese from the
crust and tossing it in her mouth she asked casually, "Speaking of vermin
. . . which one of you planted the 'information collection device'?"

Byers swallowed a gulp of his soda and looked at Mulder for help. 
Mulder, however, was distracted by the proximity of the tiny silver disk
to the bed.  He anxiously looked from the sedate Scully to the two men busily
working on the other side of the room and then back to Scully again. 
Mulder was no help.  Byers did the only thing he could do under the
circumstances.  He pinned it on someone else.  "Uh," he stumbled, "I think
it was Langley."

"What?"  Langley poked his head up from behind the small metal unit.

"Oh, nothing," Scully gave a nonchalant shrug, "Byers was just letting me
know who to thank for all of this."  She took another large bite of the
hot cheese and gnawed thoughtfully at the small blond man.  What interesting
torments could she contrive for him? "Why?" Her eyes trained on the small 
bearded man.

"Why what?"

Why did you bug our room?"

Byers shrugged and examined his cuticles. "We had a new... We just 
wanted to try it out."

"Boys and toys," Mulder muttered, only half listening to their
conversation.

"I think it's ready," Frohike said as he sat himself at the little table. 
He slipped on a pair of large black headphones and began clicking buttons and
turning dials.  Langley inserted the tiny disk in to the small slit and
they both watched as lights flickered all over the control panel.

"You know, Mulder," Scully twitched her nylon-clad toes at him, "I'm not
sure where this leaves us.  We've come up with very little since we've
been here on the whereabouts of Mary and Amber.  Although," she cocked her
head to one side, "it's going to be harder for them to move now that
Mary's alias won't work."

"Right.  No social security number, no job or house.  Their money will run
out sooner or later."  Mulder allowed this idea to turn over in his mind. 
What would he do?  No ID, no money, no where to turn?  He'd be pretty
desperate.  He would probably do something very illegal.

Byers, grateful for a change in conversation, asked, "So why are they
running from you?"

"They're not running from us."  Scully sipped her glass of ice water.  Her
brow tensed.  "Mulder?  Who are they running from?  Are they running
from us?"

"Uh," Mulder hesitated.  Didn't he know this at one point?  "From the
people Moore worked with, right?  They couldn't be running from us. 
They left town a week and a half before we knew we were coming up
here."

"Actually," Scully corrected him, "I've known about this trip for about a
month now."

"I meant officially."

"Yes," Scully said, "but it wouldn't have to be official, would it.  If I
repeatedly said I was going to Oregon to look for Moore's family . . . "
she glanced over to Frohike who was consumed by whatever it was that he was
listening to.  " . . . it's not like it's hard to bug our room."

Mulder swallowed.  Suddenly he was starting to feel a little guilty.  "So,
you're thinking that someone tipped her off?"

"Possibly."

Frohike's eyes bulged like little, black hamster eyes as he pressed the
headphones in to his ears.  Everyone looked up to the sound of his breath
grow ragged, and saw the flush in his cheeks work its way down to his
neck and perspiration form on his forehead.  A whimper broke from his
thin lips, his eyes rolled back, and he slid out of the chair and on to
the ground.  

It took a second or two for it to register in Scully's head that Frohike
had passed out.  She knelt beside him and felt for his pulse: racing.  She
patted his burning cheeks and spoke in practiced doctor tones, "Frohike, wake up.

Can you hear me?  Frohike?"

With all of the excitement going on, Byers picked up the
headset that had slipped off his unconscious friend and listened in.  A
flush rose to his cheeks as well, but his response was only to say, "My, my,
Agent Scully.  I never pegged you for a screamer."

Scully's eyes shot from the little bearded man to her partner.  "Tell me
he didn't mean what I think he meant."

Mulder, at a loss for an acceptable response to her demand, ripped the
headset from Byers' head and gave a growl, "I'll do that."  Byers just
shrugged and tried to pull the smile off his face.  



Once the door was securely shut behind the Lone Gunmen, Scully leaned
against the door and gave a sigh.  Mulder had been sitting hunched over
the tape machine for the at least ten minutes.  His face staring off in
undaunted distraction while the events of their hotel room whispered their
secrets.  She gave him a half smile and a smug, "That good huh?"  But her
remark didn't register on his face.  She sat across the table from him and
placed herself deliberately in his field of vision.  He blinked her in and
slipped the headset off.

"Listen to this, Scully, you're not going to believe it."

She looked questioningly at the device.  "I was there, Mulder.  And I
still don't believe it."

His expression didn't shift.  "I think it's Mary."

Immediately she snatched the phones and pressed them to her ear. 
What she heard was a crash, then a scattering of papers, and then a gasp,
"How did they . . . Amber . . . you sons of bitches!" followed by more
crashes and a rip of linen.  Her mouth slowly dropped open as Mulder
quickly rewound the tape just a fraction and allowed her to hear the
passage again.

"It's gotta be her, Scully.  She found the pictures we had of Amber."  His
steady hazel eyes telling her the truth she already believed.

"But why would she trash the room?"

"I don't know, but she can't be far.  She knows we're on to her, and she's
trying to detour us."

Scully slipped the headset for her reddish head and sighed again.  "Maybe
Mulder . . .."

"What?" he prompted, but she just shook her head and crossed to the sink. 
Her red-handled brush was tossed haphazardly in to the trash bin, and she
leaned over to retrieve it.  "Tell me, Scully.  What?"

"I was just thinking," her thoughts came out slowly, as if she was unsure
she should be thinking them at all.  "What if . . . what if this was the
wrong decision. What if I was wrong in coming out here to find Moore's family." 
The brush easily slipped through the short mass of hair, pressing it
smoothly back in to place.  "They're hiding from someone, obviously, and
she's trashing our room . . .."

"We're not here to hurt them, Scully -"

"No, but she doesn't know that."  Scully slammed the brush against the
counter and turned to her partner.  "And what if, by our being here, we're
exposing her to the very people she's trying to hide from.  She wasn't
estranged from Moore.  Moore helped her to hide."

"What are you saying?  You want to abandon the search? Do you want to
let things alone and go back to D.C.?"  She didn't answer him right away. 
Instead her brilliant eyes scanned the wall opposite.  The change in
events was nothing that either of them had counted on.  Mulder wanted to hit
himself over the head for not seeing it coming . . . of course they were
running from the men Moore used to work with at NIH.  Amber's
"problem", as the neighbor woman had put it, was most likely a direct
result of whatever they were working on.  Mulder shook his head.  "If
we're as easy to track us as Langley suggested, we should leave tonight. 
Put as much distance between Mary and Amber as possible."

Scully bit her lip.  "But now that we've taken her identity, she won't be
able to get work.  She has to have some way to stay alive." 

"Where do you think she got it in the first place?"  

She shrugged.  "Probably Moore helped her with that.  I can't think of how
else a civilian would have access to those kinds of documents - birth
certificates and social security numbers."

Mulder nodded.  "So we're going to have to find Mary."

"Yes," Scully exhaled, "to help her go under ground again."  The
expression Scully wore sent a pang of guilt through Mulder's gut.  He sat
down on the bed with her, and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. 
She laid her head against his chest.  "I should never have insisted in
coming out here, Mulder.  We're no closer to finding Dr. Moore, and I very well,
might have put his family in jeopardy."

"Now stop that, Scully.  You had the best of intentions.  We had no way of
knowing what we would find before we came to Oregon."  He ran his right
hand lightly over her head, sweeping the hair back from her face.  His
whole being ached for her, wanting to take her hurt away.  He knew that
she was going to blame herself for a long time now - whether it was
justified or not.  It was just a part of who she was; the conscience that
made up her personality.  But just a drop in the bucket of all of her
qualities that made him love her.   "Come on, Scully, let's go down to
that soda shop a few blocks away and have a hotdog.  We'll relax a little and
regroup."

"I'm really not hungry, Mulder."

"Well, ice cream then."

"I'm not in the mood for ice cream."

He could have put money down on her response.  "Yeah, well, I am. 
Come keep me company, okay?"

They both knew that once she stepped foot in the shop and smelled the
sweet in the air, there would be no way she could resist a double scoop of
pistachio mint.  She gave him a smile.  He knew her so well, and somehow,
that made all of the difference at that moment.  "Okay."

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


If turbid waters are stilled,
   they will gradually become clear;
If something inert is set in motion,
   it will gradually come to life.
                -Tao Te Ching


It wasn't the sound of her terrified voice screaming, "Freeze!" that made
them stop in mid stride in the parking lot behind the hotel.  It was the
gun pointed at Mulder's chest at the end of two thin and quivering arms that
stilled them.  There was no question in either of their minds that it was
Mary who had found them, and she seemed to be at the end of her rope. 
"Why are you following us?"  Tears streamed down her face.

Mulder raised his arms to show her he meant no harm.  "Mary, we're not
here to harm you.  We knew your father -"  

The mere mention of her father sent her in to a panic, and Mary
involuntarily closed her eyes and fired the gun.  As soon as they saw they
flash, both Mulder and Scully hit the ground.  Scully fell in to a roll
and drew her weapon.  "Put the gun down!"  She ordered.

Mary, seeing that she missed with her first fire, retrained her gun on
Scully's weapon.  The two women stood less that twenty feet from each
other, each staring down a loaded barrel.

"Don't shoot!"  Mulder begged.  "We're here to help!"  He had to stop her.

He knew instinctively that Scully wouldn't fire unless absolutely
necessary, but Mary was terrified and ready to shoot at anything.  And that anything
was likely to be Scully.

"Yeah, I've seen how your kind helps!"  She wailed, "You won't hurt us
any more."

"You don't understand," Mulder continued to plead, "We're not part of
*them*.  We're trying to stop *them*!"  He had to make her listen before
someone got shot.  "They've got your father, Mary.  We are trying to get
him back."

"I don't believe you," she hissed.

"It's true."  He insisted.  "Scully, put down the gun."

Scully's head jerked to him.  "What?"  There was no way she was going to
leave them defenseless, and Mulder hadn't drawn his weapon.

"You heard me!  Mary isn't a killer, she's protecting her daughter.  But
Mary, we're not after your daughter.  We're not after you.  We're just
trying to help your father."

"Why would you want to do that?"

Scully allowed the gun in her extended arm to drop down at her side.  She
knew where Mulder was trying to send the conversation.  "Because your
father helped me."  There was a moment's hesitation while Mary shifted
from one foot to another.  Scully had her listening.  "A years ago, I was
. . . taken.  We never knew by who or why, but about a month ago, while we
were in Chicago . . . I began having severe symptoms.  Your father helped
me through them.  And I believe he was taken because of his involvement
with me."

"Why?"  Mary pressed her, her tears beginning to dry on her cheeks.  "Who
are you?"

"I'm Dana Scully.  I'm with the X-Files Division of the FBI, and we've
been trying to debunk the forces that have been taking people against their
will and using them in experimentation.  We were close, Mary.  Very close. 
Mary's arm, suddenly too heavy to lift any longer, dropped and the gun
fell from her hand.  "You're telling me the truth?"

"Yes."  Mulder nodded.  "Everything she has said has been the truth."

Mary looked away from the pair of agents.  "When was he taken?"

"About six weeks ago," Mulder offered.  "If it's any consolation, we think
he's still alive."

"Of course he's still alive," Mary snapped at him.  "Who else could finish
the project?"

Scully froze.  "Project?"

After dispatching the local police who had been called after Mary had
fired her gun, Mulder and Scully sat on the edge of the bed opposite Mary, as
her story began to unfold before them.  "I guess I was thirteen when they
first started the tests on me.  Papa didn't now, of course, and I really didn't
have  any idea, either.  I remember waking up in strange places . . . like in my
bed when I knew I'd fallen asleep on the couch, or on the couch when the last 
thing I'd remember would be practicing the piano.  Weird things like
that."

Scully crossed her legs and leaned forward on an elbow.  "And you never
mentioned it to your father?"

"No.  We . . . during my teen years, we weren't really that close.  I
became the phantom child.  My mother died from cancer when I was ten.  I guess I
blamed him for part of that."

Mulder's ears perked up.  Was Mary's mother used as a guinea pig, too? 
"Why did you blame him?"

Mary shrugged.  "I had to blame somebody, and mama wasn't around. 
Anyway, as the testing became more progressive, things got worse.  I
stopped going to school, I withdrew from my friends.  Eventually I moved
in with my boyfriend.  He had his own place - his parents kicked him out -
so it was easy just to crash there."  

Scully's response was minute, but still a visible surprise.  "You're
father let you drop out of school?"

"No," Mary took a deep breath.  "He didn't have any idea.  I know my
father loved me.  Loves me.  But he was so caught up in his work. 
Sometimes he'd stumble in at four in the morning and pass out cold fully
dressed.  I would go for days at a time without seeing him.  I'd be in bed
by the time he finally made it in, and many times he'd be gone before I woke
up the next morning.  So really it came as no big shock when it took him
nearly a month to discover that I'd moved out of the house.  And by that
time, I was pregnant with Amber."

Scully looked at the pictures that Mary passed to her.  Smiling up at her
from the photo was a beautiful little girl of about five with big brown
eyes and straight brown hair.  She held a fluffy grey bunny like a baby in her
arms.  "Amber was a beautiful little girl.  She walked early and started
to talk before she was a year old."  A pained look glossed over her face. 
"By the time she was three she was having night terrors every night about men
in white coming for her.  I tried to comfort her, but the truth was that
I'd had the same dreams - down to the smallest details she'd describe - ever
since I could remember."

Mulder nodded.  Her experience wasn't far from the typical profile of
abductions.  Many times they ran in families.  "You felt they were taking
your daughter?"

"I went to my father as soon as I put two and two together.  That wasn't
an easy thing to do - but I had no choice.  Those bastards were hurting my
baby.  I had no way of protecting her.  And, after all, he was still my
father, and I knew that that bond was there, even if we weren't getting along so
well."   Mary bite the inside of her cheek and took in a deep breath. 
"But, Papa didn't believe me.  It was too much for him.  After I told him
everything he . . . he accused me of lying, of using drugs, he called me a
bad mother . . . he threatened to have my daughter taken away from me. 
And by that point, she was all I had left in the world.  Her father, well,
he left one day with the band.  I haven't heard from him since."

Scully tried to comprehend the story that Mary was feeding her.  She knit
her brow and shook her head, "When your father didn't believe you, what
did you do?"  

"I didn't know what to do.  I mean, you can't really go to the police
about nightmares.  I was working as a receptionist in a doctor's office, and I
had Amber in day care all day.  I was terrified that one night I'd go to pick
her up and she'd be gone.  But I had to work.  I had to make a life for myself
and my daughter."  Mary took a sip from the water glass Mulder placed on
the table beside her.  She looked the two agents over.  They were roughly
her age, she thought.  Both had open eyes and a gentle manner.  "I cried,
mostly.  That's what I did.  The feeling of helplessness was defeating.  I
didn't know what to do."

"I know that feeling," Mulder mumbled under his breath and gave a fleeting
look to the woman beside him.  Knowing someone you love is hurting,
knowing that untouchable people are responsible, and not being able to
help.  Yeah, he'd been there, done that.  Got the tee-shirt.

Mary saw the look that freely passes between the two people sitting across
from her.  They seemed to be having a second conversation, offering
apologies and reassuring gestures  in that single lock of eyes.  It was a
feeling she understood, but had never experienced.  "So, anyway, about
two months later, Papa came to the office.  He was in a panic - said
something about being wrong and forgiveness, and how we needed to get
to Amber right away.  We rushed to the day care and got her, and we never
went back."

"To the day care?"

"To DC.  Papa drove us to Charleston, West Virginia that night, and the
next day we were somewhere in Kentucky.  He had different names for us
and social security numbers; he helped us get a place to live."

Scully cocked her head.  "Where did he get access to the social security
numbers?"

"I don't now.  But every year or so, he'd show up again and we'd have to
move to a different state, and I'd have a new name and number."

Mulder organized the facts in his head and allowed Mary to take another
sip of the water.  "Before,  you mentioned a project."

"Project Einstein.  Or, at least that's what we called it.  I don't know
the official top secret name.  Originally, Papa wasn't on their research team.

But after Amber started showing the symptoms -"

Scully's heart leaped out of her chest.  "She has symptoms?  What kind 
of symptoms?" The horror of her days in Chicago were written clearly 
in her eyes; the physical pain, the emotional torture of one who knows 
beyond any doubt that they are dying.

"Uh . . ."  Mary shifted under Scully's intensity.  "Well, Amber had
always been a curious child.  Always in to everything.  But slowly - not so that 
I was able to notice right away - she became more sedate.  Her motor 
function became impaired.  Eventually, she began having trouble doing 
the simplest of things, like turning on the TV.  Tell me how many six 
year olds can't work a television clicker!"  She sighed.  "Then her speech
deteriorated, and her vocabulary became about a hundred and thirty 
words."  Her fists balled and she smacked the arm of the chair.  "This 
was a normal, healthy child.  They did something to her.  They destroyed 
her brain!"

How was this possible, Scully wondered. Her thoughts racing, she 
wandered over to the room's window to stare out, not really noticing 
the view. Various medications given over a period of time destroyed 
brain tissue. Hell, any street drug could do that. But, if Mulder's theory
was correct, how did they stimulate the specific nerves to enhance Amber's
mathematical abilities? Maybe the abilities were always there and were 
simply not effected by whatever else they did to her. Scully concentrated 
on this particular piece of the puzzle, fearful that she would lose
control  if she dwelt on the type of men who would conduct any experiment, 
any *test*, on an innocent child.

Mulder followed his partner's movements with his eyes, sensing what she
was thinking but knowing she would have to work through this without him, 
at least for right now. He produced the notebook they'd found earlier that
day and leafed through it, hoping to distract Mary from Scully's 
preoccupation.  "When did she start doing this kind of mathematical 
computations?"

Mary stared at the notebook and rolled her eyes to the back of her head.  
"I've been looking all over for that."  She pulled it from Mulder's hand
and leafed through it, herself.  "Uh, I don't know, really.  Maybe eleven. 
Ten?  I thought it was nonsense.  I mean Amber didn't really talk anymore, she
couldn't carry out tasks with more than three or four steps in them, I
just thought it was gibberish.  Then I began to see patterns in it, she'd write
the same sequence of letters and numbers over and over like she was trying to
figure out some kind of puzzle."

"Did you ever ask her what they meant?"

"Yes.  She just said 'broken time'.  I have no idea what that was supposed
to mean.  But Papa seems to think she's dabbling in quantum physics." 
Mary laughed.  "If one can *dabble* in quantum physics.  God, I'd give
anything to get her to dabble in Barbie dolls and Legos."

Mulder checked his watch.  6:50 PM.  "Where is she now?"

"I have her safe.  She's with a friend that I trust.  But we can't stay
there for much longer.  I don't want to endanger anyone else.  And we've already
outstayed our welcome."



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

Two Hours Later.
Farmer's Market Road 260.


"Mulder, this is crazy. I'm not sure what you expect them to do," Scully
said in a whisper, her voice crackling with static as he drove under train
overpass.

"You know those guys, Scully. I'll just tell them we need two airline
tickets to Washington on our flight, no questions asked, and they'll take it from
there. What's she doing?" He cradled the cell phone against his ear as he
navigated a tricky turn in the road.

"Sleeping. She's exhausted, looks undernourished and, from what she told
us, I can't blame her. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Do you think we have any other choice? If Moore was taken back to
complete this project, then he's got to be at the labs at NIH. We can't
turn Mary and Amber loose since they don't have any ID. They don't have any
place to stay and there's no way Moore could contact them, even if he were
able. They've got to come with us." They had already discussed this with
Mary and Mulder worried why Scully continued to take issue with the plan. 

She sighed into the phone and glanced at the pale woman laying across the
bed.  "All right. There's no other way, I suppose, but I wish you didn't
have to bring *them* into it."

Mulder chuckled. "You're just mad because they found out you're a
moaner, Scullster."

"Mulder," she said dangerously quiet, "one more word about that tape and
you'll be moaning.... from a hospital bed."

"Seriously, Scully, I don't think we have any options there either. We
need the hacking program, if nothing else, to get the tickets. I'd also like
them to take a look at the copybook."

"I was wondering why you snuck that out under your jacket," she
muttered. "You think those computations actually mean something?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't know." She paused and in Mulder's mind's eye, he pictured her
switching into lecture mode. "There could be several conditions which may
account for Amber's mental deterioration. I'm not convinced that what
we're seeing is the result of some unsanctioned, government-sponsored
experiments."

"What about Mary's story? The things she had to go through?"

"That's just it, Mulder. Her story is full of holes. She hasn't told us
anything specific, has no evidence...."

"Scully, we're here because you wanted to find her," Mulder reminded her.

"I know that. I'm not accusing her of lying. She just might not have all
the facts straight. You know how these men operate, Mulder, lies, hidden in
with the truth. I'm sure she does believe what she told us. I'm just not
sure I do."

"Scully...."

"Moore obviously saw something he shouldn't have," Scully cut him off,
"and it scared him enough to send his family into hiding. But that's not
the same thing as believing that the government, or whomever, has the ability
to somehow change a person's mental capacity. We don't have that kind of
technology."

"We don't have the technology as far as you know, Agent Scully." He 
hesitated before asking this next question, unsure of the timing since he 
wasn't physically with her but yet needing her answer. "Scully, are you 
sure you're not rationalizing this because you don't want to know what 
caused your own... symptoms?"

He heard the sharp intake of her breath. "Scully?" 

Her silence frightened him. Damn, why didn't he wait until he was there 
with her before confronting her with this? "Scully, talk to me!" His foot 
started to brake the car.

As if divining his intentions, Scully's voice, soft and careful, came
through the receiver. "I'm OK, Mulder. You think that what happened to Amber 
might be related to what they did to me?"

"I don't know, Dana. We need to think about this though. You're sure
 you're OK?" he asked gently, his voice a caress against her ear.


"Yeah, I'm fine. I just can't shake this bad feeling....," she sighed at
her own fears. "And I'm tired." Then with a smile in her voice she added, 
"Just try to lay a hand on me tonight."

He laughed again. "So I did wear you out! I knew it!"

"I'm warning you...."

"So, um, Scully, you said Mary's sleeping?" he asked innocently.

"Yeah." Her tone bespoke her suspicions.

"Good." He settled back into his seat. "So, uh, what are you wearing?"


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

Motel 6, room 113.
Kisshimont, Oregon.
9:45 PM.



Mulder paced the confined space of the dingy motel room the Gunmen
were using as a base camp during the UFO convention. Tacky would be a
kind description of the rundown, edge-of-town establishment. "You guys
must have really pissed off your travel agent to get sent to a dump like
this."

"You kidding?" asked Frohike. "We got a group discount."

"I'm sure."

"Here we go," said Langley as he studied the computer monitor. 

Mulder glanced over his should and stared at the screen containing the
passenger list of the USAir flights. "How long will this take?"

"Getting them onto your flight out to San Francisco won't take long but
the connecting flights are another story. I'll see what I can do." Langley
bent his head back to his task.

"Mulder, do you have any idea what you have here?" asked Byers, flipping
through the pages of the worn notebook which once belonged to Amber.

"That's what I was hoping you'd be able to tell me."

"This is big time stuff. See this?" Byers offered Mulder the book,
pointing out the first few pages. "These look like spatial time computations but
they take quantum physics in a direction I've never seen. I've sent them on to
someone I know at MIT but even she said it would take time for a full
analysis."

"She?" asked Frohike.

Byers ignored the interruption. "This stuff makes Einstein's theories look
like kiddie time at a Please Touch Museum. You said that you know who
did this?"

"Yeah." Mulder's mind was racing with the possibilities now that he knew
for sure this wasn't just the fantasies of a brain-damaged child. Could
this be evidence he needed to bring these bastards to justice for what they did
to Moore? More importantly, for what they tried to do to Scully? His
thoughts were as scattered as the tapping of Langley's keyboard. He felt a

sudden need to return to Scully, hold her for awhile, make sure she was
all right.

"Do we get to meet her?" asked Byers hopefully, breaking into Mulder's
musings.

"What? Uh, no. That probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"You think they're still being followed?" asked Frohike.

"I wouldn't rule it out as a possibility."

"It's getting late and this might still take a while.  We'll call you once

we have what you need," suggested Byers. "I would like to keep this 
if you don't mind," he added, holding up the notebook.

"I don't think..."

"We'll keep it safe but we haven't had time to scan the whole thing. I
can't guarantee an accurate analysis without studying it totally."

Mulder was torn. He needed the secrets the book contained but he needed
the book itself as well. He studied the smaller man before him and finally
nodded. "I'll see you back in Washington."

"If we find anything important, we'll call you."

"What about the tickets?"

"I'll call as soon as I've finished," yelled Langley from across the room,
never taking his eyes from the screen. "Uh, you'll answer the phone, won't
you?" Langley gulped, suddenly going pale.

"If you boys think you can avoid what Scully's planning for you for
planting that bug, remember this. She kinda likes me and she still shot
me. I would not favor your chances of escaping her forever."

The hush that had fallen over the room was broken by Frohike's fervent,
"God, what a woman!"


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

 
  
  Stopple the orifices of your heart,
  Close your doors;
       your whole life will not suffer.
  Open the gate of your heart,
  Meddle with affairs;
       your whole life will be beyond salvation.
  -Tao Te Ching
  
  
  The Mark Anthony Hotel, room 502.
  Ashland, Oregon.
  10:40 PM.
  
  
  
  Mulder placed the bulky bag on the small round motel table and pulled out
  several Styrofoam containers.  "Scullster," he called in to the bathroom,
  "you said anything was fine, so I got Mexican."
  
  "Oh," she reemerged, clipping her hair back in to a small barrette just
  behind her left ear and made a sour face.
  
  "You like Mexican, Scully, don't try and tell me you don't."  He opened
  the cylindrical container and smiled down in to the thick green sauce.  "Oooo,
  extra guacamole."
  
  Slipping the other barrette neatly in to place, she sat down and looked at
  the plate he was preparing for her.  "It's just that my stomach is still a
  little tight from all that pizza I ate earlier.  But how can I resist spicy
  sausage?" She ripped a tortilla and dipped half in to the bowl of hot chile con
  queso.  
  
  "When did Mary leave?"
  
  "Just after Byers called.  She wanted to get Amber ready for the trip
  tomorrow."  She lifted the lid on the soda.  The saccharine smell was
  unmistakable.  Diet.  She wondered if he was trying to tell her something.
  "Byers got the tickets already?  He thought it might take him hours to
  find a direct flight."
  
  "Well, he couldn't find them a direct flight.  They'll be going in to San
  Francisco on our flight, but in San Francisco they'll have to change to
  TWA and then to Delta in Denver before getting in to DC."  She made a face. 
  That was going to be one hell of a trip.  "We'll have a layover, of
  course, in Minneapolis/ St. Paul but we won't even have to change planes."
  
  Mulder chewed his corn chip thoughtfully.  "I don't think we should split
  up with them."
  
  "Yeah, I agree.  But there didn't seem to be any way of getting the
  tickets discreetly, and Mary wouldn't travel separated from Amber."
  
  "How much later do they get into DC than us?"
  
  Scully spooned some refried beans in to her already-salsa'd rice and piled
  the mixture on to the other half of the tortilla.  "We land at about 6 PM,
  they get in around 10:30 PM.  Langley wanted to reroute the plane to get
  them in at 7 PM, but I was afraid of calling attention to it."
  
  Mulder snorted and took a huge bite of his burrito.  He chewed and
  watched Scully dip hers in to the cheese sauce.  She looked great.  No
  sign of the sickness that plagued her just over a month ago was visible.  With
  her hair swept away from her face, and the very light make-up, she looked
  almost school aged, again.  "I like your hair like that."
  
  "What?"  She looked up to find him staring with a lopsided grin on his
  face. "My hair?"
  
  "Yeah.  Why do you find that surprising?"  He dipped another chip in the
  thick salsa.
  
  She shrugged, "You've never commented on my hair before.  In fact,"  she
  took a sip of her soda, "you almost never comment on what I look like."
  
  "That's not true.  I tell you that you're beautiful -"
  
  "No, I know.  That's not what I mean."  She took other sip.  She was just
  about to thank him for his comment when up from the depths of her belly
  erupted the roundest belch that Mulder had ever heard.  Her eyes nearly
  popped out of her head, and her hands flew to her gapping mouth.
  
  "Wow, Scullster, that was a definite 6.2 on the Richter scale."  He
  chuckled to himself and took another bite of his burrito.
  
  "Excuse me."  There he was, paying her a real compliment for once - one
  where they weren't in bed together - to let her know that he was seeing
  her and responding to her, and what did she do?  She let loose a sailor burp. 
  God, how humiliating.  "It's the soda."
  
  He knew she was embarrassed, but Scully rarely allowed herself in to these
  kind of situations, so he wasn't about to waste it.  "I don't know . . . I
  think I smelt some spicy sausage in that one."  
  
  She looked at him, and seeing his pleasant mood, she knew that he was
  liable to carry on teasing her for a while.  Better change the subject,
  and fast.  "What do we do with Amber while we go to the NIH?  Obviously we
  can't take her with us, and we'll need Mary once we're inside."
  
  "How about your mother?"
  
  Scully poked her fork at the tomato slice on her plate.  "No.  I don't
  want her involved."
  
  Mulder's eyes wandered up to hers.  He could understand her reluctance to
  include her mother, but really the risk was minimal.  All she would need
  to do would be to watch a retarded nineteen year old.
  
  "Then what?  Another baby sitting service?"
  
  Scully rolled her eyes.  "What made you think of my mother?"
  
  "She's local, and trustworthy.  And no one knows that they'll be back in
  DC, so there shouldn't be any threat from any 'outside' agency."
  
  "My mother has better things to do than watch our case subjects while we
  play Indiana Jones."  She took another bite of her tortilla.  The mention
  of involving her mother was leaving her with an uncomfortable feeling.  She'd
  always worked hard to divide and separate her business life and her family
  life.  But for about a year, Mulder had crossed the line, creating a new
  subcategory: Mulder life.  He'd worked his way, not only in to her heart
  and her bed, but also in the heart and life of her mother, as well.  And
  the fact that she didn't feel threatened by this, worried her.  "I don't want
  her involved."
  
  Mulder shrugged.  "Okay.  I just thought it might make things easier." 
  The he grunted.  "I don't know why, though, nothing is ever easy with us."
  
  Scully sat back in her chair and patted her stomach.  "Delicious dinner,
  Mulder.  Thanks.  Much better than the usual Chinese Take-out."  Her
  comment was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.
  
  "Hello?"
  
  "Dana?  Is everything okay?"
  
  "Mom?"  Scully sat up, instantly alert and ready for trouble.  Mulder
  responded in kind.  Margaret never called them while they were on a case. 
  And actually, the last case they were on, in Chicago, was the first time
  that Dana had ever called her mother while away.  "Is everything all right,
  Mom?"
  
  "Yes, of course. I just got home from the movies and a late dinner 
  with friends and I just felt ..., " There was a long hesitation where 
  Scully's brows arched and Mulder took notice of the building tension. 
  "I just wanted to call and talk to you." The hesitation on the line 
  created a moment of doubt on Margaret's part. "Am I calling at a 
  bad time?"
  
  "Oh, no."  Dana's eyebrows rose, "We were just eating dinner."
  
  Mulder motioned to her to get her attention.  "Scullster, ask her.  Just
  to see what she says."
  
  "No, Mulder."  She gave him 'the look' and he sat back in his chair, and
  sipped at his soda, content that he'd pushed the subject as far as was
  safely possible.  "And don't call me that."
  
  "Are you two fighting?"  The humor in Margaret's voice was evident. 
  "What does he want you to ask me?"
  
  "It's nothing Mom.  How are things in DC?"
  
  "Now, don't change the subject, young lady.  This is your mother, you're
  talking to.  Dana . . . Hello?"
  
  Mulder watched Scully drop the phone and rush in to the bathroom, just
  managing to shut the door before she exploded.  Mulder picked up the
  receiver and tried to stifle his laughing, "Mrs. Scully?
  
  "Is Dana all right?  What happened?"
  
  "She's fine.  She just had to make a break for the bathroom."  He heard
  her stern voice through the door demanding that he *not* explain in detail
  what she was doing.  A command he had no intention of following.
  
  "Oh, no.  Is she sick?"
  
  Mulder laughed some more as he heard his name threateningly shouted
  through the door.  This was just too good.  "Not sick.  Gas.  Scully had
  been indulging in some spicy delights for the past day or so, and I'm
  getting the pleasure of the result."
  
  Both of them enjoyed a good laugh at Dana's expense.  "You two really are
  starting to act like an old married couple!"  Margaret heard Mulder go
  quiet on the other end of the line.  "Fox?" 
  
  "I'm here."  A married couple.  Like his parents?  Or more like hers?  Was
  there really that big of a difference?  And what made up that difference?
  
  "Fox, I didn't mean anything by that comment.  I'm sorry if I misspoke."
  
  "Not at all, Mrs. Scully.  It's just . . . did Dana say something to you?"
  He hushed  his voice so that the straining ear in the bathroom wouldn't be
  able to follow his conversation.
  
  Feeling that she'd just said something she shouldn't have, Margaret was
  deliberately vague.  "Say?  Not recently, no."  
  
  "Then she has said something to you in the past?  What did she say?"  The
  idea the Scully had confided in her mother and not him about her stance on
  marriage left him uneasy.  Did she think about it often?  Was she ready to
  take that next step?  Was it the logical next step for them?  Was she
  opposed to the idea?  Or maybe just opposed to the idea with him?  Maybe
  she just didn't want to have children with him.  Or didn't want children
  at all.
  
  Margaret wanted needed an out.  She couldn't tell Mulder what Dana 
  had confided in her a month earlier, that they might not be the "marrying 
  kind".  Somehow, she didn't think her daughter's fears would help 
  progress the situation.  Instead, she punted the ball back in to Mulder's 
  corner.  "Don't you think this is something that you should be discussing 
  with Dana?"
  
  Mulder frowned and nodded in compliance.  "Yeah, I guess you're right."
  
  "Frankly, Fox, I don't understand why the two of you haven't discussed
  this earlier.  You spent all that time together . . . what do you do, if you're
  not talking?"
  
  Scully opened the door and slipped out from the bathroom, quickly closing
  it behind her once again.  "Okay, now, what are the two of you whispering
  about?"
  
  Mulder's grin beamed from ear to ear.  "I was just about to tell you
  mother how we fill our time, Scullster."
  
  "Oh, no you don't!"  Scully grabbed the phone from her partner, "Mom,
  whatever he told you, I deny it all!"
  
  "He's calling you Scullster?"  Margaret was amused.
  
  "Yeah, well, I plan on breaking him of that habit."  She turned an eye to
  Mulder, who was busy cleaning up the dinner stuff.  "Mom!  Oh, I almost
  forgot, we'll be coming back to DC early, so how about Dinner on Easter
  Sunday after all?"
  
  "That will be wonderful.  I'll invite your brothers and their families. 
  This will be good."  Her mother sounded happy at the thought of preparing an
  extravagant Easter dinner for a herd of people.  "A family Easter again -
  that's what the spirit needs.  Bring Fox."
  
  "I'll try.  Have a good night Mom."
  
  "Sweet dreams, sweetheart.  I love you."
  
  "I love you, too."  Dana hung up the receiver and looked at Mulder. 
  "You've just been recruited for Easter Dinner on Sunday."
  
  "Sounds good. Your mother is a great cook."
  
  Scully cocked her head to one side.  He wasn't going to try and get out of
  it?  "The whole family will he there."
  
  "Does this mean I get to meet your brothers?  Finally."  Mulder set the
  bag of garbage next to the door before join her on the edge of the bed.
  
  He sounded like he was, not only willing to man an appearance, but excited
  to.  "Of course, this means that you'll be going to Easter mass with us."
  
  Mulder feigned a knife in his chest and then gave her his best smile. 
  "Can I wear my Bugs Bunny tie?"
  
  Scully returned with her Mona-Lisa smile.  "Yeah, but not the ears, this
  year."
  
  
  *****************
  
  Room 502
  Friday, April 5, 1996.
  7:22 AM
  
  
  "Scully, what time did Mary say she was coming with Amber?" Mulder
  crumbled the napkin from his lap and threw it on his empty plate. He
  pushed himself away from the small table where they'd had room service
  breakfast.
  
  "I told her to be here by seven-thirty. The flight leaves at nine but I
  didn't think it was a good idea for us to just hang around the airport." Scully's
  voice floated to him from the bathroom.
  
  Mulder glimpsed at his watch. "Then get a move on, G-woman. They
  should be here soon." The words were no sooner out of his mouth when he
  heard the sound of a timid knock on the door.
  
  He opened it to reveal Mary, her hair pulled severely back from her thin
  face, carrying two small suitcases and a paper bag tucked under her arm.
  Mulder stood back to usher her in, reaching for the bags. She handed them
  over and glanced around fearfully before turning back to the tall,
  waif-ish figure behind her. The older woman pulled her forward and gently guided
  her into the room. "This is Amber," she said by way of greeting.
  
  "Hello, Amber," Mulder said quietly. "It's nice to meet you." He held out
  her hand but the young woman stood mutely before him oblivious to the
  social niceties. Her long dark hair was neatly braided and hung to the
  middle of her back. She wore faded jeans and an oversized cable sweater
  designed to hide her womanly features. Mulder bent forward trying to
  catch her eye. Instead, he saw the childish face of innocence, her gazed
  seemingly fixed on the floor. She must be shy, thought Mulder to himself.
  
  "Amber, honey. Say hello to Mr. Mulder." Mary came and put her hands
  on her daughter's shoulders, trying to get her attention.
  
  "'Lo," Amber mumbled.
  
  Mary's eyes still reflected the old pain as she watched her girl, the
  hopes of something better for her offspring, killed with the passage of time and
  the machinations of men she'd never know.  Mulder swallowed as he marked
  the silent observation.
  
  "Good Morning, Mary," Scully said as she came into the room.
  
  "Shoes!" cried Amber suddenly as she leapt forward, falling to her knees
  before Scully's feet. "Pretty shoes! Mama, pretty shoes!" She stroked the
  agent's rust suede shoes.  The smoothness of the brass buckle caused a
  hiss of excitement from the teen.
  
  "Amber, stop that! Get up!" Mary rushed to Amber's side and tried to lift
  her to her feet but Amber resisted her efforts. "I'm sorry. She's
  fascinated by shoes for some reason," Mary explained. 
  
  Scully cast a stricken look at her partner. While she knew what Mary had
  told them the night before, the reality of Amber's limitations came as a
  shock. With horror, she realized that this was not the result of some act
  of nature, some random misfiring of neurons or a lack of some biochemical
  brain fluid. Somewhere deep in her soul, Scully knew this was the work of
  men. Men who would stop at nothing for their God forsaken ambitions,
  even if it meant sacrificing the mind of a small girl. She reached a hand
  down to stroke Amber's soft, downey hair. 
  
  Mulder stepped up to assist Mary at pulling Amber to her feet. Once they
  had disengaged the child from Scully, he stood close to his partner,
  sensing her distress. Scully quickly squeezed his hand in acknowledgment and
  stepped away. "Let me just grab my stuff from the bathroom and we'll be
  ready to go," she announced.
  
  Mary reached for the paper bag and extracted a tall container. "Amber,
  here's your Kool-aid," she offered by way of distraction since her
  daughter seemed intent in following Scully out of the room.
  
  "Kool-aid?" Amber held the cup with both hands and sucked contentedly
  on the straw.
  
  "She loves black-cherry Kool-aid," Mary said abstractedly. 
  
  Mulder zipped up his own suitcase and pulled it from the rack. "Sounds
  good to me," he replied. "Are you worried about going back to Washington?"
  
  Mary sent him an angry glare. "Wouldn't you be?"
  
  Mulder held out his hands to diffuse her anger. "Sorry. That was stupid."
  His attention was caught by Amber's sudden appearance at his elbow.
  
  "Pencil?" she asked, looking him squarely in the eye.
  
  "Um, what?"  He glanced at Mary who started rummaging in her purse. 
  
  "Here, honey," she said to her daughter, holding out a thick, oversized
  pencil. "She likes to doodle."
  
  Mulder nodded and watched as Amber took the pencil and picked up an
  unused napkin from the breakfast tray. Moving the tray to clear a part of
  the table, she carefully straightened the paper and settled to her work.
  Her tongue poked out between her lips as she concentrated on her numbers,
  seeing equations in her mind's eye and setting them down. Mulder was
  fascinated.
  
  Scully's re-emergence from the bathroom, broke his brooding
  contemplation. "What's up?" she whispered, following his stare.
  
  Mulder nodded towards the young woman who somehow symbolized their
  current quest. "Look at her, Scully. She's creating a whole new
  mathematical formulation explaining space and time and yet she still has
  the mind of a small child."
  
  "We don't know that for sure, Mulder. Let's see what the Gunmen come up
  with before you start awarding her a Nobel prize." She nudged him slightly
  before finishing her own packing. 
  
  "Mary, you ready?" he asked.
  
  Mary replied by picking up her suitcases and packing up Amber's drink.
  "Amber, time to go." She took the pencil out of her daughter's fingers and
  gave her a bag to carry.
  
  "Looks like it's time to go." Mulder followed Scully across the room,
  stopping only to slip the forgotten napkin into his pocket.

  *****************
  
  Beautiful words can be traded,
  Noble deeds can be used as gifts for others.
  Why should we reject even what is bad about men?
                       -Tao Te Ching
  
  
  San Francisco Airport,
  Terminal A.
  9:52 AM.
  
  
  The four of them were rushing through the expansive San Francisco
  airport, Scully in the lead.  People from all over the world bustled
  around them, each heading off to specific points all over the globe.  It had
  taken then all of ten minutes to collect Mary's luggage, which left them with
  less than five minutes to get Mary and Amber on board their TWA flight to
  Denver.  They were just going to make it, with no time to spare.
  
  Mulder had Amber by one elbow, one suitcase in his hand.  Mary had her
  other arm, and suitcase; both trying to hurry her along.  Much to Amber's
  distress.  Never in her life had she seen so many fascinating shoes, and
  she wanted to stop and study all of them.   "Shoes shoes shoes shoes . . ."
  
  "The gate is all the way down at the end of the jet way," Scully called
  back at them.  "I'll get down there and make sure they wait."  She rounded the
  corner and ran smack in to a rounded, white man.  The impact knocked her
  backwards to land hard on her butt.  The man stumbled backward a few
  steps.
  
  "Grampy!"  Amber screamed and broke free from her guides.  She ran in to
  the older man's arms, and they quickly closed around her in a tight
  embrace.  "Grampy Grampy Grampy . . . "
  
  Scully looked up in to the smiling face of Dr. Moore.  "What . . . ?"
  
  "Papa?"  Mary stared with disbelief.  "You're here!"  When Amber broke
  away from him, suddenly focused on the Hush Puppies of a passer-by,
  Mary hugged her father.  "Papa, I was so worried about you."
  
  He let out a small chuckle that shook his whole body.  "Nothing to worry
  about, my child.  I came here to get you."
  
  Mulder helped Scully to stand.  "What happened to you?" she demanded,
  gripping her partner's hand as she stood.  "Where have you been?"
  
  "It's a long story, and we don't have much time." He looked at the worn
  woman in his arms. "Mary, we must get Amber back to NIH immediately. 
  There's a private jet waiting to take us."  His jovial face was edged with
  a tired seriousness that didn't seem comfortable on his features.
  
  Mary pulled away from him and placed a protective arm around her silent
  daughter.  "What! No!"
  
  "Don't tell me you're working for *them*," Scully's stomach dropped. 
  "After all the lives they've ruined."
  
  "They convinced me that my work with them was unfinished.  I think we
  might have a treatment for Amber, and some of the others who have been
  taken.  But I need to do some more tests -"
  
  Mary pushed her daughter behind her, "No, Papa!  Please!  I won't let you
  touch her!"
  
  "Neither will I!"  Scully stepped in front of Mary and held out her arms. 
  "She's suffered enough. We've all suffered enough."
  
  Moore stuffed his hands in his pockets.  "That's easy for you to say, my
  dear.  You've already benefitted from the therapy that I've devised."
  
  Mulder took a step forward.  "What are you talking about?"
  
  "Her symptoms are gone, are they not?"  Moore reasoned with a soft,
  urgent voice, "You can't honestly think they just disappeared."
  
  Mulder's eye went wide and then locked with his partner.  "That night in
  Chicago . . . we lost time."
  
  Scully looked demandingly at Moore.  "That was you?"
  
  "Not me, alone, no.  But yes, I had a hand in your cure."  He looked in to
  her clear, questioning eyes and smiled.  "You are looking quite healthy,
  my dear.  No signs of your illness at all."
  
  Scully waved his diversion aside. "How can you let them use you again?
  You know what they are; what they do."
  
  "I know they are offering me a chance to make right something that has
  been horribly wrong for a long time." His glanced flicked to his daughter
  and granddaughter. "That's something you can't ignore."
  
  "You trust them?" Mulder scoffed. He'd toyed with trying to determine
  how this portly scientist found them but pushed the thought aside as
  irrelevant. If he was working for them, he'd probably been able to follow
  their moves from the start of all this.
  
  "Trust doesn't enter into this. It's an even exchange." Moore looked
  nervously over his shoulder. "We don't have time to debate this."
  
  "What's the matter, Moore? Your watchdogs have to be let out?" Mulder
  asked sarcastically.
  
  "An even exchange?" Scully interrupted. She was having trouble shifting
  her views of the man who'd saved her life to this being who would bargain
  with his granddaughter's life. "What are you doing for them? How many
  other Ambers are there going to be before they let you stop?"
  
  Mulder went to grab Moore's arm but the older man brushed off the
  attempt.
  
  "Hopefully, none. But whatever the price, I'd pay it for them." He nodded
  his head in the direction of his family. "It's really not your decision to
  make, Agent Mulder. Or yours, my dear."
  
  Mary gently pushed Scully aside.  "Papa, you can help Amber?  Are you
  sure?"
  
  He place both hands on her upper arms.  "My child, I have no guarantees. 
  But I feel very strongly that she will only profit from my intervention."
  
  Scully pulled on Mary's shoulder and turned her to face her.  "No.  Think
  about it, Mary.  Amber has brain damage.  You can't 'fix' brain cells.  He
  can't restore her intelligence."
  
  "Not yet, perhaps," Moore's eyes almost twinkled with the possibility,
  "but soon, my dear.  Very soon. We have already begun to regenerate dead
  nerve cells, and rewire how our brains work.  Amber's motor skills will
  certainly improve.  And I hope, through this new therapy, that we can
  reteach her mind how to think.  That we will be able to help her 'regain'
  her intelligence, if you will.  Not restore it."
  
  "It's not therapy! It's science fiction," Scully insisted.
  
  "Not at all."  He said confidently.  "It is a necessary reality."
  
  "And her 'enhanced' abilities?" Mulder questioned, his eyes boring into
  the older man, challenging him to deny the truth.
  
  Moore looked away uncomfortably. "I'm sure I don't know what you're
  referring to."
  
  Before Mulder could give a reply, Mary looked from her father to the two
  agents who she'd met the day before.  The decision wasn't her's to make. 
  If there was any possibility in helping her daughter, she had no choice but
  to try.  "I believe you, Papa."
  
  "Very good, my dear."  He ran an affectionate hand over her gaunt cheek. 
  "We must go."  There were no good-byes to the agents.  Moore and Mary
  simply picked up the suitcases, and pulled Amber by the hand.
  
  When they disappeared behind the corner, Scully shook her head and
  exhaled, "I can't believe that just happened."
  
  Mulder gently tugged at her arm, "Come on, Scully.  We've got a flight to
  catch."
  
  "He's one of them, Mulder."  She looked up at his for some kind of
  comfort.
  
  "I'm not really sure that he is."
  
  "But he said -"
  
  "I know, Scully.  But I'm beginning to think that things aren't simply
  black and white.  What if really can help her?"
  
  "What if he can't?  Does she spend the rest of her life in a lab?  Waiting
  for the future that's never going to come?"  Her voice cracked with emotion. 
  Instantly she walled herself up and took in a cleansing breath.  "You're
  right.  We've got a flight to catch."
  
  
  
  
  *****************
  
  USAir flight # 221
  Somewhere over the Midwest.
  
  
  The drone of the air plane engines hummed inside Scully's head, setting
  the pace of the thoughts that flooded her mind and helped to release some of
  the tension gripping her stomach.  Her search was over, after only four
  days of pursuit.  Over without a fight. And over without any kind of
  resolution.
  
       Who acts fails;
       Who grasps loses.
  
  
  Scully inwardly winced. The words of the Tao which Melissa had
  practically forced her to memorize came back to haunt her. Had she acted
  precipitously? Had the information they'd discovered changed anything
  after all?  No, what she was really asking was: was the truth worth the
  price? The thought of simple little Amber staring at the white walls of
  the lab for years and years to come made her shutter.  Was it worth it?  She
  might never know for sure.
  
       My words are
         very easy to understand,
         very easy to practice.
       But no one is able to understand them,
       And no one is able to practice them.
  
  What the hell did that mean? How can you practice something that can't be
  practiced?
  
  *You just do it, Dana.*
  
  Scully closed her eyes as the familiar pain of missing Melissa washed over
  her. She could still hear the words as she replayed the argument they'd
  had as her older sister tried to patiently explain the foreign concepts. Yet
  despite the differences in their world views, everything seemed clearer when Melissa
  said it.
  
  *You find your calm place, Dana, and act from there. You do what you
  have to because it's the right thing to do at that moment. If you act from
  anyplace else, though, from anger or hate or worry, then whatever you do
  will be wrong.*
  
  Is that what happened this time? Had she wanted to find Moore and his
  family for her own needs and fears rather than from her "calm place"? God,
  she was so tired!
  
  The image of Moore's face rose unbidden in her mind and, with it, an
  overwhelming sense of betrayal. As quickly as it came, the feeling faded
  as another passage rang through her head in Melissa's strong voice.
  
       Between "yes, sir" and "certainly not!"
          how much difference is there?
       Between beauty and ugliness
          how great is the distinction?
  
  Scully knew with her whole heart that Moore was paying another kind of
  price for his choices. She had had to sacrifice family for the sake of the
  truth; he was sacrificing the truth for the sake of his family. Just "how
  great is the distinction" when you looked at things this way? The rage she was
  feeling receded, just a bit.
  
       The unyielding and mighty shall be brought low;
       The soft, supple, and delicate will be set above.
  
  Maybe there was another way to the truth; one which came from a healing
  place where the Ambers of the world wouldn't be hurt. Scully felt the
  tightness in her chest loosen as she let go of her anger. It was time to
  move on with her life.
  
  But that brought her to her other search; Mulder's search (which had
  quickly become a permanent fixture in her life.)  Would it end much the
  same way as Amber's? Was this search coming from a "calm place" or from
  Mulder's guilt? And, if so, would it end as badly? Twenty years down the
  line would they find Samantha only to learn that she'd lived her own life,
  had her own family, oblivious to their efforts to locate her. Or, perhaps
  she would show up one day, after years of watching the two of them from afar
  - knowing all the time how hard they worked to find her, and finally
  willing to be found.  Or maybe she would never return.  Maybe there was no one
  *to* return.  Maybe they were chasing the shadows of a hope that was
  better left untouched.
  
       True words seem contradictory.
  
  Scully shifted in her seat and turned to her partner, knowing too well how
  furious he would be if he knew what she was thinking - but also knowing
  that similar thoughts must be running through his head.  His hand hung
  limp off the edge of the arm rest between them.  She delicately placed
  hers above it. She'd found at least part of her answer; maybe she could help
  him find his. It *was* time for them to move on with their lives.
  
  Mulder looked down at her gentle gesture and then in to her clear eyes. 
  Her skin seemed especially bright against the yellow light streaming past
  him from the rounded window to his right.  He gave in to the urge to lean
  forward and place a kiss on her forehead - his small gesture of affection.
  
  How did it happen?  How did he get so lucky?  Why did such an amazingly
  wonderful woman fall in love with him?  He couldn't even begin to form a
  logical answer.  But he knew - he felt in the heart of his soul - that she
  did love him.  Just as he knew that he loved her, and that knowledge made him
  love her that much more.  God!  It was all so intangible.  His desire for
  her, his uncontrollable need and thirst for her wasn't something that he could
  rip apart from his being and show to her.  There was no way for him to
  explain.  And yet, some how, she knew.  Scully knew.
  
  "Scully, you've met my mother, haven't you?"  She nodded slowly.  "I
  know we're having Easter dinner at your mother's, but I'd like to invite
  my mother."
  
  Over run by a second of shock, Scully nodded again.  "I think that would
  be wonderful.  You've never actually mentioned her to me before, so I
  didn't think it appropriate to ask . . . but I know she'd be welcome,
  Mulder."
  
  "Yeah, I know."He turned and looked out at the billowing pink and orange
  clouds below them; all of which looked like a Rorschach test gone awry. 
  "It's just . . . well, I mean . . . I've - we've never really been that
  close.  But she's got no one now . . . hasn't for a long time."  He turned back to the
  enchanted woman beside him.  "And I'm starting to understand the
  importance of having some one."
  
  Her Mona Lisa-smile framed her words, "Anyone in particular?"
  
  He looked down at his hands and chuckled.  "I want her to know you, Dana."
  
  Without knowing what to say, Scully sighed and dropped her eyes to their
  joined hands.  "That would be nice."
  
  Mulder's eyes fell forward on the folded lap table and his free hand
  played with the plastic catch. "I think about her future, you know, and she's not
  having any more kids.  And I don't see her dating - although I wish she
  would.  So, she's pretty much alone."  He took a breath.  What was it he
  was trying to say to her?  Collect your thoughts, Mulder.  What's the
  point? "Do you think about the future, Dana?"
  
  "Sure.  Sometimes.  More recently than I have in a long time."  The misty
  look in her eyes was so distinctly un-Scully, and yet he instantly
  recognized it a strong part of her.  She turned away from him and studied the no
  smoking sign above the seat in front of her.
  
  "Scully.  Dana, what do you want your future to be?"
  
  "Oh, you know," she gave a little shrug.
  
  "No, I don't know, Scully.  Tell me."   But Mulder *did* know, or at least
  he had an idea.  He was hoping she was wanting what he was, but he
  wanted to hear her say it first.  He knew, somehow, if she *said* the
  words, it would all come together and be real.  For both of them.  He
  looked at her with his deep hazel-brown eyes.
  
  
  The quick glance at him told her she wasn't going to be able to brush the
  subject off so easily. "Mulder," she sighed and shifted in the seat; but
  he cut off her attempt to evade the question.
  
  "Tell me," he repeated and ran a finger down her cheekbone and along the
  line of her neck.
  
  "Come on, Mulder.  I don't want to talk about this now."
  
  "Why not?"  She just sat there, watching the steward and stewardess
  rolling the coffee cart down the narrow aisle.  Not daring to look back to
  him, not daring to acknowledge her throbbing heart in her chest.  Did he
  know how easily his touch could affect her?  "You trust me don't you?" 
  She turned to him stunned by the question.  "And you love me. . ." her
  eyes
  rounded, " . . . I know you do."  He shifted his torso to face her while
  she sat frozen, with a look of terrified uncertainty on her face.  "So, what
  is it that you can't tell me?"
  
  "It's not that I can't tell you, Mulder."
  
  "What could you possibly want so badly that you're afraid to tell me?"  He
  ran his left palm across the tender softness of her cheek and in to the
  thick silkiness of her hair.  "Tell me, Dana. What do you want for your future?"
  
  Her lips trembled.  She heard her voice as a separate entity from herself.
  
  The words, "Marry me," fell out of her mouth and filled the cabin.
  
  Mulder smiled.  His eyes looking in to the depth of her soul.  His heart
  pounded, fighting for dominance in his chest.  "In a heart beat."
  
  "What?" her lips moved, without a whisper of sound behind them.
  
  "Scully, breath."  She sat marble white against the brown print of the
  seat. "Scully?"  Mulder shook her shoulder, "Scully, breath!"
  
  Air flew from her mouth and her chest heaved as she sat back in the seat. 
  Mulder felt a sweet tinge in his heart for her.  She was really nervous,
  and after all of the years they'd been together, biblically or not, it was
  sweet that she would still work herself up in to such a state over him.
  
  "Did I just ask you to marry me?"  Her voice was back as strong as ever.
  
  "Yep."  Mulder felt like the cat who swallowed the canary.  She nodded,
  setting things right in her head.
  
  "And what did you say?"
  
  "I said yes."  Her arms flew around his neck. "But," he began and she
  pulled away from him to look in his eyes, "just because you asked, doesn't
  mean I'm going to change my name."
  
  Scully giggled with nerves and edgy joy, "That's okay.  I'm not going to
  change my name, either."
  
  "Fine with me, Scullster."
  
  "Don't call me that."
  
  He pulled her close to him again.  "I love you," he whispered in to the
  soft red of her hair.  "Dana will you marry *me*?"
  
  "In a heart beat," she sighed.  And then they kissed.  The sweetest, most
  passionate kiss either had ever experienced.
  
  **********
  
  Epilogue
  
  To withdraw when your work is finished,
     that is the Way of heaven.
                  -Tao Te Ching
  
  
  Saturday, April 6th, 1996.
  Mulder's Apartment.
  
  
  
  The dim light that seemed the signature of Mulder's building greeted
  Scully like a friendly face.  They had done so much traveling lately - and when
  they were home they usually opted to spend the night at her spacious apartment
  -  that she couldn't remember the last time she'd been in front of the door
  that proudly bore the number 42.  More than a month, at least.  She shifted the
  paper grocery bag in her arms, and pulled her key from her coat pocket. 
  The lock turned, but the door caught on the chain.
  
  "Mulder?"  She tried to peek in the darkened room.  "Mulder, why is the
  door chained?"
  
  "Uh . . . Scully!  Hold on!"  She heard a distinctly female moan and then
  the click of the VCR tape stopping.
  
  Scully rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Mulder, you're not at those
  tapes again, are you?"
  
  He opened the door wide enough for her to slip by him.  "What ever do
  you mean, Scullster?" 
  
  "I mean," she set the bag down on his kitchen counter, "the flush in your
  cheeks and the chain on your door.  You never chain your door, Mulder."
  
  "Accident."  He pulled out two thick, orange-ish-brown, root-looking
  things from the top of the bag.  "What the hell are these?"
  
  "Yams.  For dinner tomorrow night.  Mom asked if I would bring
  something."  Scully brushed past Mulder and headed straight for the TV. 
  "What is it that you find so interesting about this stuff, anyway?  Are
  you doing research?"
  
  Before she could press the 'EJECT' button and pull the video from the
  machine, Mulder stepped in front of her and tried to steer her from the
  TV.  "Why don't you show me how to cook yams.  I've never made yams
  before."
  
  She smiled up at his squirming.  "I've never been so modest before,
  Mulder.  What could possibly be on that tape that you don't want me to see?"  He
  tried to think up a lewd remark, but she beat him to the punch.  "Have you
  been trying out some new positions?"  Her brows wagged at his open
  mouth.  "You wanna teach me what you've learned?"  She leaned in to him
  and ran her hands down the sides of his thighs.  "Lets watch it together
  and see if we can beat the clock."
  
  "Scully!"  Mulder was at a loss.  Was this the same woman who used to be
  his prudent partner?  "My god!  I've corrupted you."
  
  "Yeah, I think I owe you some thanks for that."  He leaned forward and
  kissed her lips.  They tightened underneath him in to a smile.  A second
  later she slipped away from him and dogged his hands, finding the 'PLAY'
  button on the VCR, and the picture instantly came to life.  "Oh . . . my 
  . . . god."
  
  Before her was a woman - completely naked - straddling the hips of a man
  - who, for all intents and purposes, was also nude - rocking vigorously
  back and forth, her arms behind her on his upper thighs, his hands
  kneading the full flesh of her exposed breasts.  
  
  "Oh, Scully!"  the TV moaned.  "Oh, Scully, faster.  Faster, Dana!"
  
  To which the woman obliged, slamming her body onto his at an even
  faster rate.
  
  "Yes, DANA!  YES!!!"
  
  Mulder looked from the TV screen to the horror on his partner's face. 
  How was he going to explain this one?  
  
  As the man on the screen orgasmed, the woman screamed out a very clear:
  "FOOOOOOOX!" and collapsed forward over the man.  Her red hair
  obscuring the view of the camera.
  
  Scully hit the 'POWER' button on the TV and stared at the blackened
  screen.
  
  "Scully, it's not my fault.  I had no idea that they'd done it.  I went to
  drop off the napkin that Amber did the doodling on, and they gave me this. 
  Byers said they found Frohike watching . . . Uh, well, Byers said there
  are no other copies.  They were just trying out some equipment . . . I
  threatened them with some serious violence . . . they were pretty scared. 
  I don't think they'll do it again . . . and . . . I'm really sorry.  Dana? 
  Dana, honest.  I had nothing to do with this.   This isn't my fault."
  
  "Just shut up."  She stood and walked calmly in to the kitchen.  Too
  calmly.  Much too calmly.  She pulled some marshmallows from the bag on
  the counter and threw then to the small round table.  
  
  Mulder swallowed.  This wasn't at all good.  She wasn't ranting and
  raving.  She wasn't accusing and blaming.  So, she must be plotting revenge. 
  "Dana?  Sweetheart?  Talk to me.  Please."
  
  She pulled a tub of margarine and a bag of cookies from the bag, and
  refuse to look at him.  "What do you want me to say?"
  
  "What ever you want.  Tell me it's all my fault, I don't care.  Just don't
  give me the silent treatment."
  
  "Is it your fault?"
  
  "No."
  
  "Then I don't blame you."  She grabbed the bag and folded it neatly,
  creasing the edges flat.  She opened the cabinet under the sink and threw
  the bag as far in as she could, and then she slammed the door shut.
  
  "You're not mad?"
  
  "Mad?"  She looked at him.  "Mulder, I'm mortified.  When I make love to
  you, I don't want an audience."
  
  "I feel the same way."
  
  She shook her head.  "Frohike is a pervert."  She took out a thick knife
  from the carving block and looked down at the heavy yams on the counter. 
  "Not to mention a dead man."
  
  "Like I said, I scared them pretty good.  I don't think we'll have any
  more trouble from them."
  
  She nodded and ran the hard root under the tap, rinsing away the dirt and
  scum from the uneven skin.  "You know what the worse part is?"
  
  He winced.  "I came before you did?"
  
  "No, that was fine.  The worse part was they didn't even get my good
  side." 
  
  *****************************
  
  The End of Gate of All Wonders
  
  The sequel, The Bending of a Bow, should be out sometime.  
  Hey, don't blame  us, we had to write another sequel.  It's all Jen and 
  Caroline's fault.  Who are Jen and Caroline?  Don't worry, you'll meet 
  them in the next story.  He he he . . .