DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL
By Char Chaffin and Tess
Category:  MSR, post-col
Rating:  R to NC-17
Disclaimer:  These characters belong to CC and company -
We're just using their clones to show how we think the
mytharc will play out -
Spoilers:  Up through Season 7 "All Things", and FTF

Author Notes:  At the end of the story!

Feedback:  We would adore it:  char@chaffin.com, and
Tnv099@aol.com

SUMMARY:
Mulder and Scully discover the horrifying truth about the
alien colonization - and the ensuing battle will test their
strength and their committment to each other -


~ Prologue ~

"If I quit now... They win."

But 'They' had already won; They'd already defeated the world.  When
he spoke those words to Scully in the dim hallway outside his
apartment, three years ago and mere minutes before a deceptively
innocuous looking bee unwittingly became a catalyst for the upcoming
battle... Mulder didn't know just how outnumbered they really were -
how outnumbered they had always been.  And he had no sort of grasp on
how far back it went, how many decades the Colonizers had walked
among the human race... and how many of them actually populated the
earth.

By the time he and Scully found out - really found out... it was too
late.  Colonization, as they had feared, was happening everywhere -
and actually had been happening for a very long time.

Slowly... insidiously... relentlessly.

Irreversibly.


It seemed as if one day was normal, just like any other day in the
life - and the next was insanity... but that's not really how it went
down.  It had been going insane for years and years, but Mulder
thought it was just your normal 'world-is-changing" sort of shit. 
Cities growing bigger and meaner and more drugged-out... less people
believing in a Supreme Being, and more people out for only Number
One.  

Maybe that would have happened anyway, but not as rapidly - not as
gruesomely.  And he supposed so many people like Scully and him, good
people who worked hard and did their best to make a difference in the
world... those people went about their regular business and never saw
the evidence of it because they had been living in it all their
lives.  Another culture, that's what it was... how could they have
fought against it?  They grew up in it.  Their parents, if not
completely taken over by it at a young age, at the very least allowed
it to happen.  There was no stopping it; Mulder could see that now.

On the day before he had begun to somehow understand, and believe,
what had become of their world as they knew it - and what was about
to continue to happen... on that day he and Scully had made a
monumental decision for themselves - had decided to put it all behind
them, and leave the Bureau.  This decision had not come about
lightly; they had agonized over it privately and in shared
conversation, for a long time.  Yet they had ignored what their
hearts and minds told them about the state of their careers - had
ignored the obvious, that it was time to stop it before the weariness
and desolation of their lives threatened to steal their very
humanity. 

Both of them were so tired of the personal loss and the heartache
and the loneliness and uncertainty of life itself.  Their birthdays
had come and gone, with the gaining of another gray hair or two and
losing another year.  Then, a case - a monstrous case of murder - and
yes, they had seen worse... but this one was the final, proverbial
straw.  This one broke them - and made them decide, once and for
all.  

Made them decide that they wanted a life - what there was left of
it, they wanted it.  Together.  

And when, close on the heels of that decision, came the knowledge of
their world ending all around them - together they fled, when there
appeared to be no other choice...

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


~ Chapter One ~


The quiet stillness of the garden was shattered by the sound of
sandaled feet approaching.  One person broke free of the crowd and
stepped forward, embracing the man who waited for him peacefully.  As
his lips brushed over the man's bearded cheek, he cried out as if
struck by lightening and stumbled away, clutching his head in agony.

The crowd surged forward and several men laid their hands on the
quiet figure.  Violence erupted briefly before the crowd dragged
their captive from the garden.  As peace settled over the garden once
again, he held his head in residual pain and watched the retreating
figures of the crowd as they led their prisoner away.  The man fell
to his knees as his soul did battle with his demons.  Dragging
himself to his feet, he followed.

As the sun rose, regret was an acrid taste in his mouth and he took
himself to those who had conscripted him.  Railing at them bitterly,
he threw their blood money at their feet and left.  Standing on a
hilltop, seeing what he had wrought with his greed and anger, he fell
against a tree and was sick.  Collapsing to his knees, he coughed and
heaved, expelling the sickness and evil within him in an oily, black
pool of vomit.  Lurching to his feet, unable to live with his sins,
he prayed for forgiveness - and in the dawning pink light of that
Friday morning, Judas hung himself.

********

"Scully, I don't know about you - but I'm tired."  They were sitting
very close together on her sofa, empty wineglasses on the table in
front of them and a low-burning fire flickering in the fireplace. 
Scully had leaned her head on his shoulder, one hand twined in his
and her breath soft and warm in his neck.  Warm - she was warm and
vital and alive, and Mulder's fears at that moment seemed really
silly - yet he couldn't shake it.  Even before the events of the past
week it had been nagging at him - and every day it got a little
stronger.  He was certain something monumental was about to happen...

"I'm wiped out too, Mulder.  Why don't we call it an early night?  I
think we could both use the extra sleep, don't you?"  She'd looked up
at him through heavy lashes, smothering a yawn against his
sweatshirt, and Mulder had squeezed her shoulders and dropped a kiss
on top of her head.  He'd hated to leave; it was cold out and
beginning to rain - he didn't want to drive home.  But they both
needed some decent sleep; they'd talked long and hard that evening
about the decision to quit the Bureau.  

It wasn't the first time they'd discussed it but for some reason
they always stayed, always took that next case.  This time,
however... just talking about it wasn't going to work.

They'd come off a grueling case; a man who'd killed his entire
family, of a wife and eight children... for the simple reason that
they made too much noise while he was watching the evening news.  The
only reason he could give the investigating team, his eyes calm and
his manner placid and eerily sane as his deep voice had uttered the
excuse.  Then he'd held out his hands for the cuffs to be slapped
on... and had walked to the patrol car with a confident stride.  

Scully had lingered next to the blood-spattered crib, with its
burden of identical twin infant boys, no more than three months
old... and her face had been awful to see.  She had needed the
support of Mulder's arm when she walked down the blood-slippery
staircase.

In the equally-bloody foyer the murderer, Darrell Moore, had paused
by the fallen body of his wife, Marjorie; for an instant he'd gazed
down at her with vague regret in his face, then he'd looked up and
met Mulder's unblinking stare, before allowing police to pull him
from the house.  

Mulder had watched the patrol cars drive away, stepping aside for
the last of the stretchers to enter and take away the last of the
bodies.  He'd turned to Scully, wondering if she'd noticed the look
Moore had given him and the odd sheen of his dilated eyes... but the
face she presented was too pained and too heartsick - and he wisely
remained silent.  He'd put an arm around her shoulders, not caring if
anyone noticed and wondered at the familiarity of the gesture -
needing her contact and warmth as much as she welcomed his.

Now Mulder stood and stretched his stiff legs, knowing he should
leave before it got any later; they were both exhausted.  Scully
stood as well and detained him with one small hand as he moved toward
the door.

"Mulder, stay... it's late and nasty out; I don't want to be alone
and I think you don't either.  We still have so much to decide -" She
stared up at him with soft, tired eyes; the day had taken its toll on
her and they still had the bulk of the investigation to work through.
"Tomorrow we can think about what we want to do.  Right now I just
want to sleep."  

Mulder nodded and followed her back to the bedroom, snapping off
lights as he passed them.  He didn't question whether Scully wanted
him in her bed, and Scully didn't ask.  Neither of them wanted to be
separated by so much as a wall between a sofa and a bed. They left
the lights off in the bedroom; Scully turned back the covers on both
sides while Mulder brushed his teeth with her spare toothbrush, and
he stripped down to boxers and undershirt while she ran water in the
sink and prepared herself for sleep.  When she came out of the
bathroom clad in her blue satin nightshirt he was already in bed.  

Mulder watched with sleep-heavy eyes as Scully slid between the pale
peach sheets; lying on their sides they regarded each other with
serious intent. He traced her pale face with a worried finger; this
day had been especially tough on her.  The killing of children had
always been horrible to contemplate, but Scully had the hardest time
with it, her innate professionalism and impartiality taking a
nosedive when their cases turned up this sort of atrocity.  He leaned
in closer, until his lips could touch her, kissed her mouth gently
and whispered against her lips, "Sleep, okay?  Sleep now..." She
returned the soft pressure with a barely audible, "Um-hmm..."

They slept.

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

The tall, slender figure in the draped black wool cloak wouldn't
speak to him in words.  Instead she stood there with her equally-
slender hands held palms-up, at waist-level - and stared hard, as if
just by staring her message would get across.  Although her stare was
tangible he could not quite see her face, but in this instance it
didn't seem to matter, for Mulder understood every word without the
benefit of identity.

'It's time.  You know it - your woman knows it.'  

"My woman... are you referring to Scully?  What do you know of
Scully?" 

'I know of her. She's your woman - she has always been yours - and
it's time.  Get her away from here.'

"Why?  Why should we leave?  I don't understand."

'Yes, you do.  You know what I'm talking about.  You've always
known.  The world as you know it will cease to exist - and you will
not live if you don't leave as soon as you can.'

"What's going to happen?  Can you at least tell me that much?"

'You know.  The oil...'  At the mention of the word 'oil', the
figure in draped black wool raised her slender fingers and eased back
the hood covering her head; he could see a glint of deep reddish-
brown wavy hair - and something about the way it curled around the
edges of the wool made him think of...

"Samantha!"

Mulder awoke with a choking gasp of panic, drenched in a cold sweat.
Eyes wide with residual fear, the dream was so vivid in his mind, the
word 'oil' reverberating through his suddenly aching head.  He
glanced down when a small movement beside him caught him unawares; in
his nightmare-state he'd forgotten Scully lay beside him still deeply
asleep.  In the grip of the dream he must have reached out for her
comfort, for his fingers were laced tightly through hers.  On his
back staring up at the ceiling, Mulder forced himself to take deep
calming breaths as he filtered the details of the dream past his
still-pounding head.

He could still feel her presence, smell her.  She'd smelled the way
he'd remembered the adult Samantha had smelled - that same delicate
perfume.  Although the face had been obscured in some way, he still
knew her.  And though he knew the adult Samantha was not really his
sister, not really human... she'd been as close as he'd ever gotten
to having Samantha all grown up.  And the sense of loss was just as
great, because this time she had only been in his dream to warn him.  

If there had at least been a voice... but no, she had communicated
with him using thoughts instead of words.  The feeling radiating from
her had been urgent; Mulder had felt it and had reacted to that
urgency with an elevated heartbeat and a cold panic.  As he lay next
to Scully and reconstructed the dream Mulder could feel again the way
this Samantha's thoughts had curled around him, thick and tangible.  

Once, he and Scully had found themselves stranded in McGrath,
Alaska; on the tail end of a manhunt that had dragged them from
Atlanta to Anchorage they had gotten snowed in during the worst
winter on record in Interior Alaska and had not been able to fly out
when scheduled.  

Walking back to the motel from a small cafe‚ where he and Scully had
eaten lunch, Mulder had felt ice fog curl around his face and invade
his throat as he struggled to keep his breathing shallow; the frozen
condensation was thick and tangible... just the same as this mental
conversation had been, invading him within the dream.  It had chilled
him then and the remembered feel of something so viscous and alien
was doing a number on him yet again.

"Mulder, what is it?  You're shivering..." He gave a start - so deep
within his thoughts that he'd never felt Scully stretching beside
him, or sitting up next to him and laying a hand on his tense arm. 
He shook his head to clear it and looked down into her sleepy eyes,
kissing the top of her head.

"I had a dream, Scully - and I think we need to talk..."

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

She thought he was a nut... he could tell.  After he'd replayed the
dream for Scully, she'd looked at him with worried eyes.  "Mulder, it
was a dream, nothing more than that.  Not surprising that you'd have
a disturbing dream; God, I've had my share of them!  And today was
awful for both of us.  Add that to all the talking we've been doing,
about leaving the Bureau... I'd be more surprised if you didn't have
a nightmare."  

Mulder leaned up against the headboard; all through the telling of
it he'd been sitting straight up in bed as stiff as could be.  Now he
tried to relax and winced at the ache in his abused back.

"This wasn't a nightmare, exactly - more like a warning.  She was
warning me - us - to leave, Scully.  And she knew about the black
oil."   Mulder rubbed at his eyes, then met Scully's still-worried
gaze.  "Over the years I've learned to trust my instincts, and right
now every instinct I have tells me to run a mile and take you with
me."  He reached out a hand and wound his fingers through Scully's,
noting their icy feel.  She returned the squeeze of his grasp but her
voice showed her skepticism.

"Mulder, think about it - where would we go?  If this is indeed some
sort of telepathic warning, if in some way you have been contacted
about the possibility of alien colonization... then where could we
run?  Wouldn't that colonization be everywhere?  Wouldn't it be
impossible to escape?  All this time we've been told that once
colonization began it would be irreversible.  If we believe it, that
there are aliens waiting to harvest us like a crop of potatoes..."
Mulder's angry retort broke through her reasoning.

"If?  IF, Scully?  Jesus!"  He jumped up and away from the bed,
pacing around in frustration.  "After all you've seen, all that both
of us have seen... you can still find a way to doubt?  Just as you
said, we've been told.  Over and over again we have been told about
it, been involved in it, dragged into it.  Are you forgetting the
virus?  Forgetting what you went through, how you almost died?  No,
actually worse than that... how you almost became a little sustaining
meal for one of those bastards' offspring!"  

He reached her side and a hand shot out, grasping Scully's arm and
jerking her to her feet.  Mulder pulled her up against him until they
were nose to nose.  

"I haven't forgotten, Scully.  What it felt like to stand there in
front of a vat of green death, seeing you floating in it, knowing you
were a whisper away from something that horrendous.  This time a
worse fate than death... nurturing one of those... things... inside
of you.  Knowing that when it burst from your chest the Scully I knew
would be nothing more than a memory and I'd have to find a way to
kill something that had been a part of you, no matter how hideous
that part truly was..."  

He found himself shaking with anger, not so much at his partner but
against everything they'd fought - always fighting an enemy of some
sort.  Always another monster, either human or otherwise.  God, he
was tired of it.  He leaned his newly aching forehead against
Scully's and shuddered when her arms slowly came about him; he eased
his grip upon her arms and hugged her as tightly as she was holding
him.  She ran a soothing hand along the back of his neck and her
small whisper was hoarse in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, shhh, Mulder... so sorry.  Of course I remember; I've
never forgotten it either, though I wish to hell I had.  I knew what
was going to happen to me, I really did - somewhere in my
consciousness I knew.  That I was going to die in the most agonizing
way, that my mind would be cognizant of everything as it happened to
me.  What was growing inside me... God, Mulder..."  

She pulled her wet face from his shoulder and stared at him.  "It
communicated with me.  It was only an embryo of sorts but it had a
fully developed mind - it told me.  Horrible things... it told me and
as it told me it was enjoying itself, Mulder - enjoying the pain and
the overwhelming fright I was feeling."  She shivered and her eyes
flooded anew with hot tears as the torturous images she'd held inside
for so long were finally allowed to escape.  

Mulder cradled her in his arms and rocked her back and forth,
nonsensical murmurings of comfort warm against her temple.  In a
moment of shared reflection he found himself fighting to banish her
nightmares, instead of the other way around... and glad to be the one
at her side in the night, giving her support.

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


~ Chapter Two ~

Scully came awake slowly.  She could hear Mulder's soft murmur
coming from the other room.  His voice took on an urgent quality and
she slipped from the bed to investigate.  Entering the living room,
she saw him hang up his cell phone and make some quick notes on a pad
of paper.

"What is it?" she asked.

Mulder glanced up.  "I'm sorry," he murmured.  I didn't want to wake
you yet."   She walked across the room to stand next to him.

"What is it?" she asked again.

"Darrell Moore," he sighed.  Mulder's hand slipped to the back of
her neck, cupping her sleep-warmed skin.  "He was scheduled to be
arraigned today but has been rushed to the hospital instead."

"Why did they call you?" she questioned.

"I asked them to keep me informed," he told her.

"Why, Mulder?" she cried.  "This isn't an X-File.  Please, let's
just leave it behind us and let the police handle it."

Mulder clasped her icy-cold fingers in his hands.  "I don't know
why, Scully.  I can't explain it," he said.  There had been something
about the man's eyes, Mulder thought.  Something...  "Look, I'm just
going to run out there, hopefully get a chance to talk to the guy."

Scully shook her head and turned toward the bedroom.  "Give me
twenty minutes," she said over her shoulder.  Mulder stepped forward
and laid a hand on her arm.  

"No, Scully," he said, turning her to face him.  "I'll go."

"Mulder," she protested.

"Look Scully.  I just think it would be better if you let me go
alone."

"I'm a professional," she reminded him icily.

Mulder clamped both hands on her shoulders.  "Scully," he chided. 
"This has nothing to do with your abilities to do the job and you
know it."  His thumbs stroked along the sides of her neck.  "But this
case...I saw what it did to you."

"Mulder..."

"No, you listen to me, Scully.  I practically had to carry you out
of that house yesterday!"  He took a deep breath and deliberately
softened his tone.  "You are a great agent, but sometimes everyone
needs to step back."  His eyes were solemn.  "I think that time is
now for you.  Please."

Scully stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment before she
acquiesced.  She let him pull her close and wrapped her arms around
his waist.  "I'll meet you at the office in a couple of hours," he
told her as she pressed her cheek against his shirt.  She stepped
back and played with a loose thread on his collar.  

"I know we still have some things to talk about," she began.  "But
we've pretty much made our decision, haven't we?"

Mulder stroked the soft skin of her face with gentle fingertips. 
She closed her eyes briefly and nestled her cheek in the palm of his
hand. "Yeah," he nodded.  "We're going to finish this case, wrap up
some loose ends at the office and then we're going to tender our
resignations."

Scully bit her lip worriedly.  "Are you... are we sure this is the
right thing to do?"

"Do you remember what you told me last night?" he asked softly.

She nodded.  "I said that every day I felt a little more tired and a
lot less human."

He nodded sharply.  "I want us both to be human, Scully... human and
alive and full of life and energy - so we can figure out what we
really want from this life - and from each other."  He stared at her
intently.  "I know what I want, Scully... do you?"  She met his
probing gaze with one just as serious and unsmiling.  And she nodded,
taking a deep breath and releasing it in a shuddering sigh.  

"Okay."  She straightened her back and set her shoulders.  "This
time, I'll let you go alone and I'll meet you at the office. I have
some research to do."

"What research?" Mulder asked curiously.

"Vacation spots, Mulder.  I expect you to take me someplace warm and
sunny where the only thing we have to do is lie on a beach and just
be."  Her smile was impish as if simply the thought of lying on a
warm stretch of sand with him was enough to lift ten years off her
battered soul - enough to fill an eternity with exactly what she
wanted from that life they both strove to retain.

"Don't forget to pack a bikini," he tossed over his shoulder as he
grabbed his keys and opened the door.

********

Scully stumbled into Mulder's office several hours later looking
wildly around the room for him.  She sank shakily into the chair
behind his desk.  It can't be, she thought.  It isn't possible.  She
reached for the telephone on the desk, intent on finding Mulder and
jumped out of the chair when her cell phone rang shrilly.  Clapping
one hand over her pounding heart, she pounced at the sound of her
partner's voice.

"Where the hell are you Mulder?" she demanded.

"Scully, listen to me for just a minute," he said urgently.

"No, Mulder!  I need you to listen to me," she said tightly, her
voice rising to be heard over his.  "There's been a cult suicide--"

"A cult?" he interrupted.  "Listen Scully, what I have to tell you
is urgent.  It can't wait!"

"Mulder!" she said sharply, demanding that he listen to her.  "There
are several survivors.  One of them is conscious and in a hospital. 
He told the police that the leader of the cult... that his eyes..."
her breath caught.  She cleared her throat and reached for a piece of
paper.  "He said that the leader's eyes were clouded with a 'black
haze of evil'," she said reading from the paper.

"Oh God!" she heard him gasp.

"Mulder... Skinner has already approved everything.  I need to get
out there, do the autopsy before anyone else does.  We... we need to
interview the survivors quickly."

"I'll stop at your place and grab your bag," he said.  "What time is
our flight?"

She gave him the flight information.  "I'll see you at the airport
in three hours."

*******

Scully hurried through the airport to the gate where their plane was
already boarding.  

"Mulder!" she called, rushing over to him.

"Let's go," he said, following her onto the plane.  They stowed
their bags and sat down.  Scully lifted the armrest between their
seats and twisted to face him.

"We're flying to Philadelphia and then we hop a commuter flight into
Scranton-Wilkes Barre," she said, explaining their travel itinerary. 
"From there we rent a car and drive to a town called Centralia, PA."

She reached under the seat and pulled out her briefcase.  Flipping
open the lock, she withdrew several sheets of paper.  "Reports are
just starting to trickle in, but this is what I've been able to find
out so far.  Jason Martin, aged fifty-eight, was the leader of the
cult.  He was the fourth child of George and Nancy Martin and raised
in the coal regions of Pennsylvania.  George was coal miner as were
Jason's two older brothers.  Rather than become a miner himself,
Jason entered the seminary and began to study to become a priest,
making his mother extraordinarily proud."  Scully flipped through her
notes, handing several pieces of paper to Mulder who scanned them
briefly before looking back at her, as she continued.

"He washed out of the seminary in his third year.  I haven't been
able to get his school records from the seminary yet - a field agent
from the local office is working on that right now.  He was married
and widowed twice.  I'm requesting the death certificates to
ascertain the cause of death of his wives..." She tucked a strand of
hair behind her ear and consulted her notes again.

"Anyway, he drifted from job to job and tried his hand at many
different forms of organized religion.  Apparently, Jason had a
problem with authority figures and that was why he was unable to keep
a steady job or settle into any church.  Finally, in 1992 he formed
Eden's Promise - a cult that promised to lead its members back to
Paradise."

The flight attendant passed their row with the beverage cart and
Mulder signaled for two cups of coffee.  Scully shifted the pile of
papers around on her lap and gratefully accepted the steaming
beverage from the attendant.  Mulder sipped his coffee and ran his
eyes over the notes that he had spread out on the tray table.

"I assume that the price of admission into Paradise was all of a
person's worldly goods?" he asked.

Scully tapped the tip of her nose with her forefinger.  "Right."

"Okay, tell me the rest."

"Well, details of the cult's activities are kind of sketchy right
now.  We should know more when we get there."

"And where, exactly are we going again?" Mulder asked.

"Centralia, Pennsylvania," Scully reminded him.  "It's an old coal
town.  Back in 1962 a fire started in one of the mines and no one was
ever able to put it out.  The fire has been burning now for almost
forty years.  In 1998 the federal government bought the houses and
business of the almost thirteen hundred residents of the town and
relocated them into surrounding communities."  She flipped through
her notes again.  "As of 1998, only forty-two people remained in
Centralia - mostly the elderly who refused to leave their homes."

"Nice, remote area... not a lot of need for a police presence with
only forty-two residents... good place to go to avoid prying eyes,"
Mulder speculated.

"Exactly," Scully agreed.  She played with the papers on her lap,
organizing them and stacking them nervously.  "Mulder," she began. 
"What the survivor said about Martin's eyes... you don't... I mean,
it's not possible that it's..." her voice trailed off as she looked
at him pleadingly.

"Scully," he said, taking one of her hands in between both of his. 
"When I got to the hospital today, Moore was waiting for me."  He
lifted his eyes to the overhead bins, remembering the scene he had
encountered when he had arrived at the hospital.  "Moore was dying
and no one could figure out why.  His heart rate was elevated; brain
activity was haywire - all over the place.  His internal organs were
shutting down."

Mulder gently chafed the soft skin on the back of her hand beneath
his thumbs.  Swallowing hard, he continued.  "I walked up to Moore's
bedside.  The doctors and nurses were running all over the place but
he was oddly quiet and calm.  He looked me in the eyes and asked me,
'Do you know what makes an ordinary man turn on his wife and baby
boys; his sweet little girls?  It's a dark, bitter evil - a sickness
that you didn't even know was growing inside of you...'"  Scully
watched quietly as Mulder swiped his hand over his eyes.  "He told me
that it was as if one moment he was a regular guy and the next moment
so consumed by a black, caustic rage that he couldn't control.  The
next thing I knew every machine in that hospital room began shrieking
and whistling.  The doctors and nurses pushed me out of the way and
as I stepped back I saw Moore's eyes roll into the back of his head
and Scully... I swear... I know I saw that same black film slide over
his eyes."

He trembled and Scully slid closer, pressing her body into his for
support.  "He died a few minutes later.  There was thick brackish-
colored blood streaming from his ears and nose, seeping into the
sheets.  Blood so dark it looked black... I started flashing my badge
around; ordering the sheets to be burned and the body to be placed in
the refrigerators at the hospital morgue until you could come down to
do the autopsy.  Then I called you and, well... here we are."

Scully shivered and stuffed the papers back into her briefcase.  She
tucked it back under the seat and settled her head on his shoulder,
her hand gripping his leg through his trousers.  They spent the rest
of the flight quietly lost in their own thoughts.


*********

The police had barricaded the main road into Centralia many years
ago because of the fire raging in the underground mines.  There was a
crack, reminiscent of an earthquake fault line that ran directly
across Route 61 and all over the town; steam and acrid smoke poured
up from cracks in the ground.  The hillsides around the town were
sprinkled with scorched, bared trees.  Mulder drove slowly through
the dying town, now bustling with the activity of police, federal
agents, members of the National Guard and coroners.  Bodies were
being tagged and placed into black bags before being stacked onto
Army trucks for transportation to the county coroner's office.

Mulder and Scully pulled out their badges and stopped a young police
officer that directed them to the agent in charge.

"Agents Mulder and Scully out of the Washington office," Mulder told
SAC Scott Dannon.  

Dannon looked up with a face weary and sick from the carnage
surrounding them.  "Yeah, A.D. Skinner called and told me to expect
you.  What can I do for you folks?" he asked briskly, trying to hurry
the conversation along.  He wanted to go home, take a shower for
about ten hours and then crawl into bed with his wife and maybe never
crawl back out.

"We were told there were survivors, one of whom was apparently
interviewed by the local police," Scully said.  "We'd like to speak
with him as well as the officer who took his statement."

"There were eight survivors," Dannon said shaking his head.  Eight
people out of five hundred..."  He blew out an unsteady breath and
forced himself to focus on the agents standing before him.  "All of
the survivors were taken to the closest hospital."  He rubbed his
hand over his face, leaving trails of soot over his cheeks.

"Logan!" he shouted across the field.  A young police officer looked
up and jogged over.

"Yes sir?"

"These are Agents Mulder and Scully.  FBI - from Washington.  Give
them directions to the hospital where the survivors were taken," he
ordered.  Turning to the man and woman standing before him, he
continued.  "You'll send me copies of your interviews?" he asked,
happy to turn some of his duties over to someone else.

"Absolutely," Mulder agreed.

Dannon nodded curtly and strode off and the rising steam and smoke
of Centralia's burning mines quickly obscured him.

*********

Scully squinted at the directions Officer Logan had hastily scrawled
on a scrap of paper. "Turn left at the next light," she instructed. 
"The hospital should be one block up on the right."   Mulder flicked
on the turn signal and glanced over at her as he waited for the light
to turn green.

"What are you thinking?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head.  "Truthfully, Mulder, I don't know what to
think," she told him.  He nodded and stepped on the gas pedal,
turning the corner and following the signs to the visitor's parking
garage at the hospital.  

They strode quickly past the reporters gathering outside of the
hospital doors and into the building, flashing their badges at the
woman seated behind the reception desk who directed them to the
emergency room.  Several minutes and another flash of their badges
later, they were talking to one of the attending physicians.

"Two of the victims are in critical condition," Dr. Campbell told
them.  "I don't know that they will make it through the night."  He
flipped through a stack of charts on the counter at the nurses'
station.  "Four others are still unconscious, although at least two
of them are showing marked improvement and I am hopeful that they
will regain consciousness shortly."

The doctor looked up at the two agents before continuing.  "Mr.
Gilbert is conscious and will be moved to another floor when a bed is
available.  His condition is guarded but stable."  The doctor set
down the charts and smoothed his hands over them.  "The final victim,
Veronica Holland, died en route to the hospital."

"Would it be possible for us to speak with Mr. Gilbert?" Mulder
asked quietly.  

Dr. Campbell frowned.  "I would rather you wait until tomorrow," he
began.  Mulder moved impatiently and Scully laid a restraining hand
on his arm.

"It's vital that we speak with him as soon as possible," she urged
the doctor.  "I understand your concern for your patient's well-
being, but 493 people have died today.  Surely you can appreciate our
need to move quickly."  Scully's tone was polite and professional but
beneath it was the faintest hint of urgent pleading.

The doctor sighed and nodded.  "All right.  But I will trust you not
to overwhelm Mr. Gilbert," he cautioned strongly.  

"Of course," Scully soothed, looking at Mulder for his agreement. 
He nodded and Dr. Campbell led them down the hall and past the guard
stationed outside of the patient's room.  

"This is it," he told them.  "Thirty minutes," he warned sternly
before turning on his heel and returning to his other patients. 
Mulder and Scully entered the dim room cautiously.  Scully glanced at
her partner and tilted her head slightly toward the bedridden man,
indicating that Mulder should take the lead in questioning him.

"Mr. Gilbert," Mulder began.  "I'm Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI. This
is my partner, Agent Dana Scully.  We're hoping that you are feeling
up to talking to us for a few minutes about what happened this
morning."

"I already gave my statement to the police."  Dennis Gilbert looked
back and forth between the two agents wearily.  A big, muscled man in
his early thirties, Scully noted that his eyes seemed sunken and his
face held an unhealthy pallor.

"Please, Mr. Gilbert," Scully urged.  "We won't stay long.  I know
you have been through a terrible ordeal, but we really need for you
to help us understand what happened today."

The room was silent for a moment following Scully's plea.  "Mr.
Gilbert?" Mulder prompted softly.

Dennis Gilbert looked toward the window.  "I met Reverend Martin
eight years ago.  My girlfriend, Sandy, had heard about him from some
friends of hers who were always raving about the good work he was
doing at the church he had started.  Sandy went to one of his
services one week and was instantly hooked."  Gilbert's eyes traced
restlessly around the room, never settling on any one object for very
long.  "She talked about the Reverend all week, incessantly. Finally,
I agreed to go with her to his service the next week."

He picked at the sheet draped over his legs and looked at Scully. 
"He was mesmerizing.  He said things that made such sense to me on a
base level, you know?"  His voice was pleading.  "I had a very
strict, religious upbringing.  My parents had a very literal
interpretation of the Bible and growing up in their household was a
living nightmare.  As soon as I was old enough, I left home.  I
floundered for years trying to find a church where I felt
comfortable.  I found that at Eden's Promise."

He sighed and rolled his head against the pillows, once again
staring out of the window.  "Jason Martin told us that Heaven was
attainable, here on earth.  He said that God never intended for us to
have to die to find rapture.  He said that we had to sacrifice our
worldly goods and follow him and only then would we attain paradise;
that we would enter Heaven's gate in this world and follow it into
the next."

Mulder stepped closer to the bed.  "Mr. Gilbert... did Jason Martin
speak often of the need to bring about your own deaths in order to
achieve Nirvana?"

"No!" Dennis Gilbert swung his head toward Mulder and then turned to
look at Scully.  "No," he said again, softer this time.  "He spoke of
a simple life. He said that paradise could be found working with the
land, living in a community of like-thinkers, away from the
distractions of modern society."  His eyes brightened with unshed
tears as he tried to explain the seductive pull of the fallen cult
leader.  "But then something changed.  Reverend Martin became
reclusive and withdrawn.  We wouldn't see him for days on end and
then suddenly he would be walking across the compound, muttering to
himself and tearing at his hair.  Then at dinner last night, he told
us all to gather in the meeting hall before breakfast this morning."

Gilbert took a deep breath and scrubbed trembling fingers over his
face.  "When we gathered in the hall this morning, Reverend Martin
was dressed in his ceremonial robes.  He told us that he had
experienced a vision, that enemies to this world were upon us.  He
said that our time was fast coming to an end and that creatures of
the dark would destroy us and we would be unable to enter Heaven if
we did not find some way of stopping it.  He ranted and cajoled; his
voice was thunderous -booming throughout the hall.  I looked around
the room and could see the people were enthralled, hypnotized by his
words.  He painted a picture of destruction and carnage, where
people's bodies would be torn asunder and the earth would be consumed
by fire and blight."

He shook his head.  "And then... then his voice grew soft and
compelling.  He told us there was a way out, a way to save ourselves
and to enter paradise together.  The side doors opened and several
members of our society wheeled in huge metal urns.  They began
pouring and distributing paper cups filled with orange juice.  The
Reverend told us that we would share this last drink and be together
forever."

Dennis Gilbert's head dropped forward, his chin pressed into his
chest.  "I looked around the room and everyone was looking at the
cups in their hands.  They looked scared but determined.  Sandy was
standing next to me, nodding."  His voice dropped to a whisper. 
"Reverend Martin lifted his cup and said 'Drink, my friends.  Drink
and we'll find Eden's Promise together.'  Then he began to walk
around the room, urging people to drink."

His voice broke on a sob.  "People began to drink and within
minutes, they were falling to the floor around me.  Sandy wrapped her
arm around my neck and kissed me and she pushed my cup toward me." 
Tears were streaming down his face.  "I didn't want to do it...
didn't want to die... but I didn't want to be without Sandy and all
of these people who had become my family.  In the end, I was a
coward.  I took a small drink, but it was enough to knock me on my
ass.  I collapsed to the floor next to Sandy and pulled her into my
arms.  I could feel myself losing consciousness and I looked up.  I
saw Reverend Martin standing nearby.  His eyes... God, his eyes..." 
His voice trailed off.

Scully stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on his arm. 
Gilbert lifted a tear-streaked face to hers and she nodded
encouragingly.  "His eyes... his eyes had always been this startling
blue, but this morning, they were black and so evil.  I was so scared
and I wondered whether we had followed him into heaven or into hell. 
He stopped next to me and looked down and for a moment I could see
the clear blue of his eyes peer through the darkness and there was
such a look of utter sadness and despair in his gaze. But then the
blackness was back and he lifted his cup to his mouth... I guess I
passed out because the next thing I knew, I was waking up here."

They spent a few more moments, soothing the distraught man.  When
his sobs had subsided, Mulder called for the nurse and spoke to her
quietly.  She returned a few minutes later with a sedative.  Scully
leaned down and spoke softly to the grief-stricken man.

"Thank you, Mr. Gilbert," she said.  "I promise, we'll be in touch
again."  He nodded and clasped her hand in his briefly before sliding
into the sleep provided by the medication.

They stepped into the hall.  "I'm going to hang around here, see if
any of the other survivors wake up," Mulder told her. 

Scully nodded her head.  "Okay, I'll go to the coroner's office - do
the autopsy."  Mulder stayed her with a hand on her arm when she
would have turned away.  She looked back at him, noting his worried
eyes.

"I don't want you in the autopsy bay alone with that... person. 
I'll stay with you while you work - or else find someone to go in
there with you."  Scully shook her head at his fretting, thinking he
worried too much - then she recalled some very unwelcome memories so
recently dredged from her ordeal in Antarctica... and thought maybe
another human in the room might not be a bad idea.  She smiled
reassuringly at her partner.

"I'll find someone - I promise, Mulder.  Please don't worry - and go
do what you need to do."

Mulder nodded, clearly relieved, and pulled the car keys from his
pocket.  "Be careful," he warned.

"Always," she promised, pressing a small and warm palm against his
cheek briefly, before she tuned to go.

*********

Scully was slumped on a bench in the hallway of the coroner's
office.  She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand and rolled her
head against the wall.

"Scully."

She opened her eyes to see Mulder standing at the end of the hall. 
She watched him walk toward her, fatigue evident in every step.

"How did you get here?" she asked.

"Agent Dannon stopped by the hospital and had one of his men give me
a lift," he told her, dropping down onto the bench next to her.  "You
look tired," he said, studying her face.

"They're swamped here," she said nodding toward the autopsy bay
doors.  "After I finished with Martin, I gave them a hand."

Mulder nodded knowingly.  "You ready to go?" he asked.

"I have to get changed," she said picking at the scrubs she was
wearing. 

"Come on," he said, standing and holding out a hand.  "You can get a
shower at the motel."  Scully nodded and stood wearily.  

They made the trip to the motel in silence; each lost in their own
thoughts. When they arrived at the motel, Scully headed directly to
the shower and Mulder picked up the phone to check his messages.  He
was standing by the window when Scully stepped out of the bathroom,
wrapped in her robe.

"Finished," she told him, toweling her hair dry.  She walked across
the room and laid a gentle hand on his back.  "Mulder?"

He turned and nodded absently, slipping around her to go into the
bathroom.  Fifteen minutes later, the bathroom door opened and steam
billowed out into the bedroom.  Scully was lying in one of the beds,
wrapped in a pale blue nightshirt.  Mulder glanced across the room to
the other bed where she had piled both of their suitcases and then
back at her.  Scully lifted the covers and tilted her head toward the
pillow next to hers.

Mulder turned off the lights and reached for a pair of pajama
bottoms from his suitcase.  Scully watched in the dim light as he
dropped the towel wrapped around his waist; a sliver of moonlight
slanting in through the half-closed draperies illuminated his nudity,
causing a brief flare of longing which she firmly tamped down.  Now
was not the right time... they were both exhausted.  Turning away
from her Mulder picked up a pair of soft cotton pants and stepped
into them.  He slid under the covers and pulled her into his arms.

Scully rested her cheek on his shoulder and played with the sparse
hairs on his chest.  He turned his head, burying his nose in her
hair, inhaling the floral scent of the shampoo she had used and
running his hand down her back.

"I was able to speak briefly with two of the other victims," he
said, his voice a rumble under her ear.

"And?" she asked.

"They both supported Dennis Gilbert's story that Martin had begun
acting strangely lately, and one of them mentioned an odd darkness in
his eyes while they were gathered in the meeting hall," he told her.

Scully's hand swept down his side, her fingers tracing patterns over
his ribs.  She closed her eyes.  "It was there," she sighed against
his chest.  "I found traces of it in the ocular and nasal cavities,
as well as in the canal of the ear.  I had it packaged as a biohazard
and shipped back to D.C. for analysis."

"What about the body?" he asked.

She shrugged.  "His parents are dead.  If his siblings don't object,
we'll arrange to have it cremated.  It's the safest way."  She felt
his chest rise and fall in a heavy sigh.

"What are you thinking, Mulder?" 

He smoothed a hand over her hair.  "I think it's starting," he said
heavily.

She drew in a shaky breath.  "Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully?"

She lifted herself up on her elbow and placed a small hand on his
chest.  "What if..." she bit her lip.  "What if it's been going on
for a while already?"


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

~ Chapter Three ~

Georgetown University Library had barely opened its doors when they
parked in the visitor's lot and hurried inside the old building.  Not
entirely sure what to look for but knowing they had to start
somewhere, they had decided to feed key words and terms into the
Library's massive Netlink information system and see what might pop
up.  

As the lobby elevator doors closed behind them, Mulder leaned back
against the brass railing and regarded Scully with concerned eyes;
she looked so tired.  Neither of them had gotten any sort of decent
sleep after she'd raised the unwelcome question about the possibility
of long-term colonization.  The thought of it happening far earlier
than Roswell was too frightening to contemplate - and if true, it
changed everything.  

They'd flown home on an early flight, the trip long and tense with
the worry each of them carried inside.  They'd spoken softly to one
another, holding hands and trying to pretend it was just a regular
trip back to DC - but they couldn't fool themselves.  And Mulder knew
as soon as they hit town they'd be spending a great deal of time
digging for anything they could.  They made it to Scully's apartment
and scrounged enough odd food combinations from her cupboards and
fridge to give them both indigestion, and fell into bed with upset
stomachs, holding hands all through the night.  In the morning they
dressed silently and made their way to Georgetown U.

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

On the third floor of the huge library the main Netlink databank fed
out and retrieved information not only to all the library systems in
the DC area, both public and private, but also to key library
databanks around the world.  What couldn't be found on the main link
would most likely be available on microfiche.  Scully sat down at the
first microfiche she found as Mulder began digging through Netlink. 
Looking up briefly from the screen, she murmured quietly, "Okay. 
What do we search for?  Oil?  Unexplained viruses?"  

Mulder thought for a moment while he waited to log in.   "Well, I
doubt we'd get anything worthwhile if we only searched on 'oil'.  And
unexplained viruses may get us too far off track.  I don't want to
waste any time; I've got a feeling from now on time will be at a
premium for us..." He rubbed at his eyes with one hand and pushed the
mouse around with the other, thinking.  "It would seem that a search
on a repeated phrase might work - didn't everyone mention a film over
the eyes?  Maybe we should start with that."

Scully nodded and got down to serious business, flipping through the
catalog.  "I'll try it - 'black film'; maybe I should just do that
first.  If I find anything I'll yell - quietly, of course - respect
for where we are and all that."  She sent a weary grin Mulder's way
and he echoed it briefly before settling in with the mouse.

It took two and a half hours before she found anything viable, and
her exclamation was quietly issued as promised - but Mulder heard it
just as his twenty-seventh full-scale search came up with squat.

"Mulder, you have to look at this.  I think I hit the mother-lode." 
Mulder left his chair, stretching stiffly as he walked behind her
chair and looked over her shoulder at the screen.  Scully traced the
text with her fingers as she read.  "Jesus, listen to this... I can't
believe what I'm seeing..."


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


The man entered the theater and made his way towards the staircase.
Dressed in black, his new spurs jingled quietly as he climbed the
stairs and slipped through a doorway. Raising his hand, he aimed his
derringer and fired. John Wilkes Booth had fatally wounded Abraham
Lincoln.

An officer seated near the fallen President leapt to his feet in a
belated attempt to protect his commander-in-chief. Recoiling in
horror at what he saw in the assassin's eyes, he hesitated and Booth
lunged forward, stabbing him with a concealed knife before climbing
over the edge of the President's box and leaping toward the stage.
His spur caught in the red, white and blue bunting decorating the box
and he fell heavily to the stage floor. Shaking off the pain, he
raced from the theater amid the screams of the panicked crowd.

He raced through the night stopping for ammunition and a whiskey to
dull the pain of his broken leg. Fleeing his pursuers and unable to
bear the pain any longer, he stopped to have his leg set. The next
day, holed up in a barn, surrounded by soldiers, he was shot in the
neck and captured.

Booth lived for three hours. A young soldier tending to the injured
prisoner tried to give him some medication.

"It's useless," Booth rasped painfully. 

The soldier knelt and lowered his canteen to the wounded man's lips.
He sprang back in fear as a film of dark hatred clouded Booth's eyes.
Blood, so dark and oily it appeared black, trickled from his nose,
seeping into the dusty earth beneath him.

******

"Oh my God," Scully breathed, turning fearful eyes away from the
screen and up to where Mulder hovered over her shoulder. "How long
has this been going on?"  Her worried eyes met his, equally
concerned, and he shook his head in amazement.

"How did you find this, Scully?  Just by popping in 'black film'?" 
She nodded, and printed out the text before backing up the roll.

"Not quite.  I had to wade through a lot of useless garbage before I
found it.  One article led to another, and then into actual events,
then jumped into eyewitness accounts.  Testimonies and gossip, some
of it too far-fetched to be of possible use.  I hit and missed a lot
until I started looking for accounts of black film coinciding with
aberrant or deviant behavior.  Once I found that roll, all sorts of
fun things began to float to the top.  This was only the first.  
I don't know if I want to find out anymore..."  

She rose from the chair, shaky and stiff; Mulder folded her into his
arms and held her very close, rocking her a little as she clutched at
him.  He threaded a hand through her soft hair and pressed her cheek
into his neck so she could feel the vibration of his reply.

"We have to.  We've traced it back to the mid-nineteenth century,
and it's only taken us less than three hours.  If there's more we
have to see it.  I think continuing to search for this on the
Internet will prove useless; judging by the look of some of these
rolls, they've been around for a long time.  I wouldn't be surprised
to see this suppressed like crazy out on the Web."  Mulder gave her a
gentle squeeze that she returned, then let her go; Scully sat back
down again and gazed at the screen as he continued.  

"What I can't understand is how easy it was to find these old rolls
of microfiche, when almost everything else has been transferred to
sheets, and more lately the Internet.  And even microfiche sheets are
about obsolete.  I assume this story is from a newspaper - which
one?"  He bent over Scully's shoulder again as she flipped back
through the faded text.

"The Pardee Examiner... small, local paper, I'd bet.  An anonymous
article, from the looks of it - probably one of many stories
circulating at the time, concerning the Lincoln assassination.  It's
hard to say if anyone believed what they read, all those years ago." 
Mulder retrieved the printed copy of the article and skimmed it, then
looked down at Scully.

"Well, somebody believed it... and they went to some lengths to bury
it in an old roll of film, and keep it off the Internet Highway.  Now
I have to wonder why it was so relatively easy for you to find these
rolls..." Scully frowned at the screen, then raised one inquiring
eyebrow at Mulder as he worked at the puzzle.

"Well, yes - I guess I'd wonder the same thing.  After all, three
hours or so of searching shouldn't dig up something like this.  Makes
me wonder what else we could discover.  Do we really want to?"   His
nod was firm and immediate as he repeated what he'd said only minutes
before.

"Scully, we have to."

The library kept long hours, which meant time, was relatively on
their side.  Once they knew where to look and what to ask for the
rest of the rolls surfaced with alarming ease.  Not that there were
that many - but what they contained was explosive.  Mulder couldn't
help but believe that somehow they'd been conveniently left behind
for somebody to find... somebody who would understand the
significance of what this little foray into history meant for the
rest of the world.

Later that evening they would re-read the printed sheets they'd
made, and the intensity and import of those pages made them shudder. 
The worst moment for them both came when they discovered evidence of
the virus at Auschwitz.  Sitting in the silent library with the only
sound the whirring of the rolls, Scully read the account aloud, of
witnesses who claimed to have seen "blackest evil" in the eyes of not
only Hitler but the more sadistic of the camp guards as well.  Her
voice shook as she read, finally breaking when the recorded account
revealed it had been offered by a fourteen year old camp survivor by
the name of Gerda who had died mysteriously shortly after her
interview.  

Now she shuddered anew and Mulder held her close to his side as they
huddled together on the edge of her bed.  He turned his head from the
pages held loosely in Scully's cold hands and pressed a kiss to the
side of her head, whispering into her temple.

"We've got to find out who left those rolls of film for us to
discover, Scully.  I really believe something like this would have
stayed buried forever, quite nicely - in fact, it should have stayed
hidden.  Somebody wants us to read it - and know the real truth
behind the colonization."  

Scully turned in his arms and molded herself closer; she was now
shivering.  As if she couldn't get warm - and Mulder knew how she was
feeling.  He'd been cold all day long.  He lifted her into his lap
and held her like a child.  They sat that way for the longest time,
neither one speaking - easing each other's fears as best as they
could.  Finally Scully pressed her mouth into his neck and gave him a
kiss meant to reassure him as much as it did her.  She raised tired
eyes to his and her voice was hoarse when she spoke.

"Stay... I don't want to be alone, ever again.  I feel as though the
world is crashing all around us and we're the only ones who really
know what's about to happen."  Mulder nodded and kissed her soft
cheek, trailed his lips over to the corner of her mouth and kissed
her there as well, before he covered her mouth more fully and kissed
her again.  Not a comfort kiss... not a desperate end-of-the-world
kiss.  Just the kiss of a man who had the woman he loved in his arms
and wanted her to know she was cherished.  He spoke against her cheek.

"I'll stay tonight - then I want you to move in with me for a while,
Scully.  You'll feel safer there and I'll feel better just having you
with me.  We can do it tomorrow - and we'll make an easy day of it
and take some time to think this out and decide what we want to do. 
Okay?"  He felt her take a deep breath before she answered him.  

"Okay.  I'll put some things together tomorrow.  Right now let's
just go to bed.  I'm so tired..." Mulder helped her to stand and then
came up beside her, hugging her one last time.

Unfair, he thought... so unfair.  Just as they were finally
beginning to find their way as more than friends; almost ready to
take that final step and solidify a love that had been growing
steadily for seven years... this had to happen.  They hadn't been in
a hurry; content to date and get to know each other as future lovers,
not needing to rush a thing - and now he was in a panic... now they
were scared.  He murmured against her temple and this time his voice
broke on the endearment he sent into her heart.

"I know you're tired and scared, baby... so am I."

It would be days later before he realized that he'd called her 'baby'.


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


~ Chapter Four ~

Scully watched through half-closed eyes as Mulder climbed out of bed
the next morning.  When the bathroom door closed behind him, she sat
up and reached for her robe, slid out of bed and headed toward the
kitchen to start the coffee.  She was pulling the orange juice from
the refrigerator when he entered the room.

"Morning," he rumbled from behind her as his hands settled on her
hips, pulling her back against him.  Scully turned in his arms and
rested her cheek against his chest.

"Good morning," she whispered into the white cotton of his T-shirt. 
"Did you sleep well?" she asked, knowing that sheer exhaustion had
forced her mind to shut down long enough to allow her body the sleep
it so desperately required.

"Hmmm," he murmured into her hair.

"The coffee is almost ready," she told him, "and there are bagels in
the bag on the counter.  I'm going to take a quick shower."  He
nodded and was already digging through the bag of bagels as she left
the room.

When she returned to the kitchen a short while later, she saw that
he had laid out plates and knives and had poured the orange juice. 
She laughed lightly when he pulled her cinnamon-raisin bagel from the
toaster oven, cursing softly as he burned his fingers on the hot
bread.  Dropping the bagel onto a plate, he set it down on the table,
glaring at her amusement and shaking his hand.

Scully reached out and caught his arm, turning his wrist so that his
hand lay palm up in hers.  "Poor baby," she whispered, examining his
fingers for injury.  Clucking softly over the pink tips of his thumb
and two of his fingers, she lowered her head, brushing her lips
lightly over the injured digits, her tongue darting out to soothe the
sting.  Mulder let out a quick gasp, his fingers curling
involuntarily in the wake of her caress.

Still holding his hand in both of hers, Scully peered up at him. 
"All better?" she asked, wide-eyed and innocent.  She suppressed a
smile as he sucked in a deep breath and fumbled a reply.

"Umm... yeah - it's good... uh, thanks," Mulder said before turning
back to the counter.  He lifted his mug with trembling fingers and
coffee threatened to spill all over the floor before he used both
hands to steady the mug.  He took a bracing sip of the hot liquid and
Scully watched the play of his shoulder muscles beneath his T-shirt
as he shifted uncomfortably for a minute or two before joining her at
the table.

"So what's the plan for today?" she asked, deciding to have mercy on
him.

Mulder leaned across the table and stole one-half of her cream
cheese laden bagel.  He took a gigantic bite and dropped the rest of
the bagel back onto her plate, deftly avoiding her slapping fingers. 
Chewing quickly, he mumbled, "As I said last night, I'd like to pack
up some of your stuff to take back to my place."  He sucked cream
cheese from his thumb. "Does that sound all right to you?"

Scully found herself too preoccupied by the sight of Mulder, licking
his sticky fingers while he waited for her reply.

"Scully?" he prompted softly.

"Huh?" she blinked as she stared at him from across the table.  "Uh,
yeah.  Sounds good.  Let me just clean up this mess first," she said,
standing and carrying her plate and juice glass over to the sink. 
She busied herself with cleaning up the kitchen, wondering how Mulder
could so easily distract her when the whole world was turning upside
down.

Leaving the dishes to drain in the dishrack, she joined him in the
living room.  "Well," she said as she looked around the room, "I
should take my laptop."

Mulder nodded and began to disconnect the computer.  Scully
disappeared into the bedroom and returned a moment later with her
briefcase.  She stuffed all of their notes into the leather bag and
set it down on the desk next to her laptop.  She glanced around the
room again.

"I guess I really just need to pack clothes..." She led Mulder into
the bedroom and pulled her luggage from the closet.  "Did we bring my
overnight bag up from the car the other night?" she asked
distractedly.

Mulder jerked his head toward the door.  "It's in the other room,"
he told her.  Scully nodded and left to fetch the bag in question. 
She went into the bathroom and began to gather up supplies.  Opening
up the linen closet she stuffed new bottles of shampoo, shaving gel,
shower gel and a fresh razor into a small bag.  Tossing a box of
tampons and some aspirin in the bag, she could hear Mulder moving
about the bedroom.  Curious to know what he was doing, she poked her
head out of the door.

Mulder had been busy pulling her clothes out of the closet and her
bureau.  The bed was piled high with jeans, T-shirts and blouses and
a good number of her business suits were draped over a chair.

"Mulder?" she asked stepping through the doorway.  

Mulder was kneeling on the floor in front of her bureau and his head
jerked up at the sound of her voice.

"How long are you expecting me to stay with you?" she asked,
inclining her head toward the mountain of clothing piled up on her
bed.  She inhaled sharply when he looked up at her with eyes that
said 'forever'. He stood and his fingers clenched around the silky
fabric of the pajamas he clutched in one hand. 

"As long as you need," he said.  He lowered his gaze to the carpet
beneath his feet and then looked up again.  "As long as you'd like."

Scully worried the soft flesh of her lower lip between her teeth and
her eyes tracked over the piles of clothing before settling on the
warm sunlight spilling through the budding trees outside of the
window.

"I keep my sweaters in there," she said pointing toward the armoire.
His smile was brilliant as she retreated to the bathroom to finish
her packing.  She stared at her reflection in the mirrored medicine
cabinet, then resolutely she swung open the door and carefully tucked
her favorite scented lotions and perfumes into the bag.

*********

It took several trips up and down the elevator of Mulder's apartment
building to drag in everything they had packed.  He immediately went
into his bedroom to empty several drawers in his bureau and pushed
aside the expensive suits lined up in his closet in order to make
room for hers.  While Scully carefully placed her pajamas and
lingerie into the empty drawers, Mulder settled on the floor in front
of the closet, quickly bringing some order to the jumble of shoes and
sneakers piled there.  Within a few hours, they had put everything
away.

"Do you want to go out to dinner?" he asked as they slumped together
on the sofa, weary from the hurried unpacking.  She shook her head
and yawned.

"I don't feel like dealing with a crowd tonight," she told him.

"We could order out," he said as he reached into the drawer of the
table near the sofa for his collection of takeout menus.  Scully
reached out and placed her hand over the phone when he would have
picked it up.  "Let's just make something here," she said softly.

"I don't think there's anything edible in the kitchen," he groaned.

Scully stood and reached out for his hands, pulling him to his feet.
"Then we should get to the supermarket," she said.  Mulder nodded,
yawning; stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and grabbed his
keys, following her out of the door.

*********

Later, with the dinner dishes washed, dried and put away, Scully
went into the bedroom intent on changing into her pajamas.  The day
had been pleasant as they ruthlessly steered clear of the subject at
hand, but she knew they couldn't avoid it forever.  She wanted to be
comfortable when they got back into it.

She hit the light switch on the wall, sending a flood of soft,
golden light spilling into the room.  She pulled a pair of pale blue
cotton pajama bottoms and a white ribbed tank top from the drawer. 
Toeing off her shoes and socks, she tugged her T-shirt over her head,
unsnapping her jeans and pulling down the zipper.  Turning, she threw
the T-shirt onto the bed and stopped suddenly, staring at the linens
covering his mattress.

"Mulder!" she called, her voice quivering. She could hear his feet
hit the floor and thud hurriedly across the apartment.  He stopped,
his hands braced on the doorjamb as his eyes scanned the room,
looking for the source of the commotion.

"What?" he asked.  "Scully, what?" His voice was urgent.  Wide-eyed,
she pointed toward the bed.  He crept closer to the bed, inspecting
it closely and looked at her in confusion.  "What?" he asked again.

Scully eased over to the bed and lifted the edge of the quilt which
was neatly turned back at the foot of the bed, rubbing it between her
fingers.  She eyed the muted colors of the floral print and then
looked back at him with a question in her eyes.

"Your quilt?" he asked, blowing out a relieved breath.  "I packed it
and a couple sets of your sheets before we left your apartment."  He
smoothed a hand over the soft cotton covering one of the pillows.  "I
wanted you to feel at home," he shrugged.

Scully sniffed once.  "Thank you," she murmured, knuckling tears
away from the corners of her eyes.  "I think that's the nicest thing
you've ever done for me, Mulder."

She smiled fondly as he shrugged again and dropped his gaze to the
carpeting.  His eyes traveled over her bare feet, taking in the pink
polished toes; slowly his gaze swept up her body.  Her smile faded
when she saw his breathing quicken as he eyed the pale blue fabric of
her panties peeking out from between the metal teeth of the open
zipper of her jeans.  She heard his harsh swallow as his gaze settled
on the fullness of her breasts encased in a matching bra.  He stepped
closer and wrapped one arm around her waist, yanking her against him;
Scully's breath left her in a whoosh as she collided with his chest.

"Mul..." she managed, as he lifted his free hand, tracing the swell
of her breast as it rose out of the cup of her bra.  He slipped one
finger under the lace edging of the bra and swept it slowly,
hypnotically over the soft flesh he found there.  Scully's head fell
back as he moved again, cupping her breast in his hand and opening
his mouth over the silky fabric covering her nipple.  His breath was
hot and moist as it feathered over her and she clutched his shoulders
with both hands.  

She gasped as he slid his arm under her legs, sweeping her off her
feet and cradling her against his chest.  She flung her arms around
his neck to keep her world from spinning out of control.

"I... I... I thought we were... were going to - Oh God!" she panted,
as his lips found the erratic jumping of her pulse along her neck and
settled there to nuzzle.  She swallowed hard.  "We were going to
go... go over our notes..." she stuttered.

"Not tonight," he said against her skin, as he lowered her onto the
crisp sheets and followed her down.  He grasped the open waistband of
her jeans and tugged them down her legs, settling between her thighs
as naturally as if he had done so every day of his adult life.

"But I..." She moaned as Mulder's mouth closed over hers in a kiss
unlike any they had ever shared before.  Although they had spent
several nights wrapped in each other's arms, their previous kisses
had been sweet and romantic.  Full of love and hope for the future,
they had been restrained and at times hesitant, not quite ready yet
to allow passions or emotions to overflow.  But this kiss, she
thought hazily... this was all about unbridled passion and desire. 
Hot and needy, their mouths moved greedily and their hands swept over
each other's bodies.  Scully's mind was swirling madly as her brain
urged her to slow things down and her body cried out for more.  She
moaned and arched her back as Mulder flicked open the clasp of her
bra and slid the straps down her arms, his mouth latching onto her
nipple hungrily.

Oh God, she thought as the pleasure center of her brain began to
shut down all other thought processes and she melted into the sheets
beneath her.  Fingers fumbling for the snap of his jeans, she tugged
until Mulder lifted his hips from hers and gave her some room to
work.  They both froze when the phone rang.

"Ignore it," he muttered against the fragrant flesh of her throat. 
Scully twined her fingers into the hair on the back of his head and
tugged gently as the phone continued to ring insistently.

"Mulder," she said quietly.  She soothed her hands up and down his
spine as he settled his weight back onto her.  Struggling to control
his breathing, he reached for the phone, keeping her trapped beneath
him.

"Mulder," he said harshly.  He listened, then murmured, "Huh?  Yes. 
Yes, of course, Sir."  Scully slid out from under him and slipped
into her pajama bottoms, tugging the tank top over her head. 
Turning, she listened to him wrap up his conversation with their boss.

"Yes.  Tomorrow morning.  9:30?  We'll see you then, Sir.  Yes, I'll
tell her."  He disconnected the call and sighed, hanging his head for
a moment before looking up at her.  She recognized the disappointment
glinting in his eyes - she was sure it matched her own - as he took
in her now-clothed form.  She rubbed the sole of one foot over the
top of the other, suddenly nervous and a little uncomfortable around
him.

He sighed again and placed the handset of the phone into the cradle,
sliding to the edge of the bed to place his feet on the floor.  "I
guess it's just not our time yet, huh?" he asked wryly. She swallowed
convulsively as she watched him brace his elbows on his knees and
pinch his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  Her fingers twisted
together nervously and her voice was agitated when she began to speak.

"Mulder, I..." She stopped, unsure of how to explain that part of
her was glad they were interrupted.  Mulder looked up and held out a
hand to her. She stepped closer and he buried his face against her
stomach.  She stroked his hair with one hand.  

"Mulder, you know I want to..." she stopped, at a loss to put her
thoughts into words.  "But maybe now isn't the right time," she
finished lamely.

He nodded against her belly and she could feel the heat of his
breath through her tank top as he spoke.  "I've wanted you in my bed,
wanted to make love to you for so long now, but..." He rolled his
head back and forth, rubbing his forehead against her.  "I'd like to
be able to concentrate on you fully and I don't want anything else to
be on your mind when we finally do make love."  

He hooked a strong forearm around her waist and tumbled her onto the
mattress again.  Looming above her, he stroked a hand over her
tousled hair and brushed his lips chastely over hers.  "Having you in
my bed is enough for now."

She smiled.

**********

The elevator bell pinged softly and Scully stepped through the doors
as Mulder held them open.  They had spent several hours discussing
their next course of action before falling asleep the night before.  

"I think we should hold off on tendering our resignations," she had
whispered in the darkened bedroom as she stroked gentle fingers
through his hair.  She felt him tense and he lifted his head from
where it had been resting against her breasts.

"We need the resources," she told him.  "And you know the badges
will open a lot of doors that would be locked otherwise," she said
reasonably.

Propping his elbow on the pillow next to hers, he braced his head on
his hand.  "Skinner wants our reports on the cult suicide," he said
slowly.  "But, Scully, all of the other stuff that we've found; I
don't know..."

Scully nodded.  "We'll give him our findings on the suicide,
including the witness reports on the black film over Martin's eyes
and my autopsy report.  But we'll sit on the rest of what we found
until we know more," she said thoughtfully.

"Okay," he agreed, sinking back down and nestling his head between
her breasts.  She had kept her breathing slow and even and rubbed
soothing fingers through his hair and over the tense muscles of his
neck, allowing the steady beat of her heart, the measured slowness of
her breathing and the gentle stroking of her fingers ease him into
sleep.

Now she looked up at him as he strode down the hallway to Skinner's
office beside her.  He looked rested and healthy and she knew that
the tension and worry that she saw in his eyes was evident only to
her.

After giving their reports to Skinner and promising to keep him
informed of anything else they found, they left his office.  Scully
looked up in surprise when Mulder punched the elevator button for the
lobby instead of the basement.  "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Someplace where we can talk in peace," he said, leading her out of
the building and sliding his sunglasses onto his face.  They walked
in silence to the memorial and sank down on their bench.

Scully squinted up at Mulder in the bright sunshine and he
apologized, switching places with her so that her back was to the
sun.  "Okay," she said.  "What do we know?"

"Well we're long on supposition and short on facts," he said. 
"Let's just brainstorm here for a few minutes.  Kurtzweil said it
would happen over a holiday, when people are away from their homes..."

"Memorial Day was a couple of weeks ago," Scully said, looking
around the small park.  It was only mid-morning and the lunch crowds
weren't out yet.  The tourists were fixated on the memorial and no
one was looking their way.  Toeing off her shoes, she reached deftly
beneath her skirt, tugging her pantyhose down and off her legs.  In
deference to the warmth of the early summer sun, she stripped out of
her jacket and slipped her discarded pantyhose into one of the
pockets.  Folding the jacket neatly, she curled her legs up onto the
bench and draped the jacket discreetly over her lap.  

Mulder smiled wolfishly at her and pulled off his own jacket,
loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves.  He leaned against the
back of the bench, stretching his arms out along the slats of wood
and spread his legs, comfortably lifting his face to the sun.

"How do you think it's transmitted?" he asked from beneath the dark
lenses of his sunglasses.

"Bees?" she began.

"I haven't heard any reports of swarms, have you?" he asked.

"No," she said slowly, but it doesn't appear to be widespread."  Her
voice was thoughtful as she spoke.  "Maybe the bees have been
released in small quantities over the years..."

"Bio-engineered crops," Mulder suggested.

Scully nodded, then frowned.  "But Mulder, that technology has only
existed for a short while now.  What we've found goes back hundreds
of years!"

"Scully, that technology is new on this planet.  Who's to say how
advanced the aliens are?"  

She nodded again and then blew out a breath.  "I can't believe I'm
sitting here - agreeing with you on this!" Her laugh was self-mocking.

Mulder's smile was leering. "It's been a long-standing fantasy of
mine," he said, waggling his brows at her suggestively.  Scully eyed
him with mock-severity.

"Sexually transmitted?" she asked.

Mulder blinked and he gaped at her for a second or two before his
mind switched from teasing her back to the topic of discussion.  He
thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Do you think?" he asked slowly.

She shrugged.  "Why not?"  Mulder sighed and nodded again.

"All right, let's consider this for a moment.  When you were exposed
to the bee sting, I found you in one of those pods surrounded by
hundreds of other people who were gestating those things inside of
them."  He kept his voice flat and emotionless and Scully held
herself stiffly, forcing herself to stay analytical and not to become
lost in the horrific memories.

"Jason Martin and Darrell Moore showed no signs of anything like
that," Scully said.  "But the firefighter that we found in Dallas, do
you remember what his tissue was like?"  She rubbed her fingers
together at the memory.

Mulder nodded.  "It would help if we knew how Martin and Moore were
infected."

Scully murmured her assent and then continued.  "Let's assume that
there are various ways of being infected, and that the method of
infection dictates the effects of the virus on the victim."

Mulder bit his lip, nodded eagerly.  "Right.  So those people who
are infected with the virus through a bee sting become incubators. 
Maybe people who are exposed to products made from the engineered
crops are affected in a different way."

Scully spoke softly, her voice taking on a rambling quality.  "It
seems that the virus can alter a person's neurological patterns,
causing them to act in an aberrant manner."  Her voice cracked as
she remembered the blood-splattered cribs in Darrell and Marjorie
Moore's house.

His hand settled over hers and she tangled her fingers with his. 
She opened her mouth to speak again and her breath caught as a dim
spark of a memory fought its way to the surface. Aberrant manner...
Her lips moved rapidly but she didn't utter a word.  Mulder drew his
sunglasses from his face and leaned down to her.

"Scully?" he called softly.

She squeezed her eyes closed and held up one hand, holding him at
bay while she thought.  Finally, her eyes popped open.  "Oh my God,"
she whispered.  Her breathing was labored and she looked up at him
with horror-filled eyes.

"Mulder... God.  I just remembered..."

"What?  Scully!"  Mulder's voice held a hint of panic.

"We've got to go back to the library," she said, stuffing her feet
back into her shoes and slipping her jacket on.  Mulder stood and
towered over her, gripping her elbows and shaking her gently,
urgently.  She licked her lips.  "When I was scrolling through the
microfiche, I saw something and I flipped right by it and then we
started finding the rest of the events and I just let it go... oh!" 
She was panting and her nails were digging into his arms.

"Jesus, Scully!  Just spit it out!" he urged desperately.  She took
a deep and shaky breath, before continuing.

"Mulder, there was a reference to Judas Iscariot - it seemed so
bizarre and I skipped past it.  I didn't think... I didn't want to
believe we were really going to find anything.  But think about it -
Judas betraying Jesus, Booth killing Lincoln..." Her eyes were wild. 
"We've got to go back and check it out.  I'm guessing that if we
check further, we'll find that with each generation or two - they're
systematically killing off the best and the brightest of us!"

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

~ Chapter Five ~

Tunisia - June

Shimmering heat radiated on the dry horizon, and an equally-hot wind
offered no relief.  For miles and miles in any given direction there
was nothing but sand dunes and small scrubby plants here and there. 
The dune-rider progressed at a slow but steady pace, wending its way
over the hot sand. As it cleared a small rise, the sudden green of a
corn field was a truly incongruous and unbelievable sight, to anyone
but the man who brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop, and climbed
out.  

Before the engine completely died out he was pulling a crumpled
cigarette from the pocket of his sweat-stained shirt and lighting it,
drawing the nicotine deeply into lungs as dry and brown as the sand
beneath his feet.  Inhaling again and again, his shoulders hunched
against the searing wind, the man surveyed the surrounding crop with
a satisfied smirk.  A good crop... very good.  The burning cigarette
hanging from his lips, he climbed back into the rider and drove it
down a small incline, pulling up next to a large Quonset hut.  He got
out and walked slowly on stiff legs, toward the main door.

Stubbing out his cigarette, the stooped-shouldered man drew a
keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the control panel to
the right of the door. The tiny red light changed to green and he
pulled the door open after hearing the locks disengage.  He used the
keycard again to open the door of his office, stopping abruptly at
the sight of the white-haired man seated behind his desk.

"I need a status report," the man told him in a heavy German accent.
His bushy eyebrows drew together in distaste as he took in the
overall disheveled appearance of his associate, the man he usually
referred to as 'Smoker'... the unhealthy pallor of his skin and the
way his clothes hung loosely and untidily on his body.  His steady
regard unnerved the other man, who patted his pockets and began to
withdraw a cigarette, then stopping at a frown from the German.

"No."  One word, spoken softly but with a command that he could not
afford to ignore.  The man dropped his hands to his sides, two
nicotine stained fingers cradling an unlit cigarette, and recited his
report.

"Everything is moving according to schedule," the Smoker said in a
gravelly voice which sounded thick and hoarse from years of tobacco
abuse. "The crop will be harvested in a week and will be sent to the
processing plants where it will be made into everything from corn
chips to cooking oil." He rolled the unlit cigarette between his
fingers. "Approximately two weeks after these products are shipped to
stores around the world and begin to make their way into people's
homes, the hives will be divided and the bees will be released in the
most populated cities of the world and their surrounding areas."

The German nodded and gestured for the Smoker to continue.

"As you know, the corn from the last crop was processed into feed
and was shipped globally to cattle ranchers and poultry farms. The
stock will be slaughtered and will reach the markets simultaneously
with the corn-based products. Everything is moving smoothly," he
assured his superior. "Those people who are infected by the bees will
be gathered up and brought to the containment camps located on each
continent for the remainder of the gestational period. Most of those
who are infected from consuming the biologically-engineered corn
products or from ingesting the contaminated meat will perish either
from direct exposure to the virus or at the hands of those who
experience virally-induced dementia."  The Smoker paused, fingering
again the cigarette in his hand, debating whether he could get away
with lighting it.  The narrowed eyes of his superior quickly changed
his mind and he squelched the strong need for nicotine, and continued
his report.

"Finally, of course, we expect that there will be a number of
survivors--strong, healthy, young adults whose genetic makeup for
whatever reason will allow them to withstand this first assault.
However, we anticipate that the majority of these survivors will be 
infected to some degree or another. The virus will be spread through
sexual intercourse and the next generation will be unable to survive
in the womb. If all goes as planned - and there isn't a reason to
think it should not do so - in less than five years, the human race
will be exterminated."

The German stood. "Very good," he murmured with a slight smile.
Striding to the door he looked back over his shoulder. "I want to be
kept informed as each phase is put into motion."  For an instant his
eyes went black and hard, affording a glimpse into the true
manifestation of evil that lived behind the human mask of Conrad
Strughold... then it was gone, as he sent a short nod in the general
direction of his associate.

"Of course," the Smoker assented, lifting the cigarette to his mouth
and lighting it. He squinted at his boss through the smoke curling
around his head and watched him pull the door closed behind him.
Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he left his office and took an
elevator down to the subterranean levels, a rasping sigh leaving his
throat as the temperature around him immediately dropped.  Hard to
believe this sort of cold temperature could be successfully
maintained when the earth above was a boiling dry pot...

The Smoker walked down row after row of pods containing hundreds of
human victims who were the most recent test subjects of the bee-sting
transmitted virus. Finally, he reached the end of one row and he
stopped to peer into one pod. Taking a deep breath, he closed his
eyes and allowed his body to morph into its natural form. Stepping
closer to the pod, he lifted one hand and tapped the razor sharp
talons against the greenish structure.

"You made your deal and then you had a change of heart," he said,
his huge eyes blinking slowly at the man whose likeness he had
appropriated weeks earlier. "Well, it's too late for you now," he
continued, fascinated by the look of horror frozen on the face of his
former collaborator. "It's too late for all of you." His fleshless
lips lifted in a grotesque parody of a smile and he strode down the
row of pods containing the last remaining members of the betrayers of
the human race... a consortium of dreamers.

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

The air conditioner was on the fritz again - on one of the hottest
days in June, it had to go out on them.  Just their luck...  Slamming
the fridge door a bit harder than necessary, Mulder took a glass full
of ice cubes to the sink and topped it off with cold water, then took
a huge gulp and re-filled the glass.  Wiping perspiration from his
neck with his free hand, he walked into the living room, resisting
the urge to rub the cold glass all over his face.

Scully looked up as he held out the glass of water. Taking it in one
hand, she downed the icy liquid in several long swallows before
turning back to the reams of printouts surrounding her on the living
room floor. Mulder squatted down next to her.

"It's time we go to Skinner with this," he said gesturing to the
piles of paperwork scattered about the apartment. 

Scully opened her mouth to protest but stopped abruptly, rubbing her
aching forehead with the palm of one hand. "The Fourth of July is in
two weeks," she said. "If Kurtzweil was right about it happening over
a holiday..."

Mulder shook his head. "I've been giving this some thought and I
don't 
believe it's going to happen on the Fourth," he said slowly. Scully
cocked her head to one side, waiting for him to finish. "That's why I
want to go to Skinner with all of this now. The Fourth falls in the
middle of the week," he said, explaining his theory to her. "But
Labor Day is always a long weekend and more people will be away from
their homes and cut off from familiar surroundings. I figure we've
got about eleven more weeks before all hell breaks loose."  He sat
down near her and poked at the litter of papers on his carpet,
starting a bit when Scully laid her hand on his arm to get his
attention.

"What about the bees?  We keep hearing about scattered cases of bee
stings gone bad; do you think swarming has started already?"  Her
worried eyes focused on Mulder's face, watching as he thought a
moment and then shook his head decisively. 

"I don't think so.  We would have heard something about it in the
media; bee swarming is always a big deal on some news station
somewhere.  Besides, I told Frohike and the guys to let us know if
they run across any news concerning swarming... just in case.  To
their credit, they were refreshingly non-nosy - just said they'd be
on alert.  I think they know, the same way we do... it's gonna hit
soon."  Scully nodded, but the worried frown didn't ease; she sighed
and leaned her head against his arm, next to her hand, speaking
softly.
  
"You know, Skinner may not believe us.  We have proof but it's not
nearly as conclusive as we know he requires.  When you think about
it, all we really have are some old, scratched rolls of fiche, a lot
of print-outs, some of which come off as extremely old 'National
Enquirer' copy...  a few recent eyewitness accounts from the half-
crazed survivors of a radical cult, a lot of supposition."  She
rubbed her forehead on his arm, trying to relieve the headache she
could feel brewing behind her eyes.  Mulder shook his head again and
pressed his palm along her forehead to help her alleviate the pain.

"No.  Not supposition.  We have proof undeniable, Scully; it doesn't
matter how old the account or how antiquated the rolls of film.  Not
to mention the comparative ease of finding those rolls in the first
place.  Somebody planted it in a place where we'd find it, which
means that someone is watching us.  Someone may also be setting
themselves up to be our "In-The-FBI" friend... that little undercover
bonus died out when we lost X.  Maybe we have another buddy." 

Scully sighed and nodded, unwilling to wrap her still-aching head
around anything else at the moment save her partner.  Mulder took his
hand from her forehead and curved it along the back of her neck,
pulling her close for a lingering kiss, smiling against her lips when
they opened easily and she invited him inside.  Her tongue curled
around his gently and he returned the favor, both of them enjoying
the unhurried flavor of the kiss they shared...  as if they had all
the time in the world to sprawl on Mulder's living room floor and
spend out precious moments kissing and holding each other. 

And at that moment in their time, sharing sips of ice water and
heated yet gentle kisses... they had all the time in their world. 
Tomorrow would bring God-knows-what new horror into their lives;
right now they needed the comfort that only they could provide, each
to the other.  

Mulder lowered her carefully to the carpet, cushioning her head on
one hand as he leaned on his side over her, never breaking the kiss
which was slowly heating up.  Scully sighed into his mouth, taking
pleasure as well as desire from the way his body tensed alongside
hers, and the increased tenor of his breathing when she let her
tongue play with his.  She kept her eyes open as they kissed, needing
to see the myriad emotions flitting across his face and spilling from
his dilated eyes as his kisses grew in intensity and he groaned
against her mouth.  

"Scully... you'd better stop me now, unless you want to take this to
the next level.  I want you so badly... but our timing sucks.  We've
got so much to do..."  His voice trailed off as her teeth sank into
his earlobe and bit him there, then she blew a gentle breath onto the
mark she'd created, and her hands moved up and around to cup his
head.  He shuddered when her low reply ruffled the soft hair on his
neck.

"I know... I know, Mulder.  I just... I had to get my mind off this
horrible headache and find a way to momentarily escape what we have
to face, so soon.  It's just too soon!  I'm not ready for it...
Jesus, how can anyone be ready for something like this!"  Her voice
broke on a choked sob and she buried it in the collar of his shirt,
refusing to give in to emotion.  Not now... if she had anything to do
with it, not ever.  

Mulder's arms tightened, cradling her as Scully managed to get
herself under control, big hands running soothingly up and down her
back.  She pulled her face from his shirt and stared up at him with
glittering eyes, fingers tugging at him until he lay full-length upon
her... then she twined both legs about his lean hips and felt him
cover her like a protective blanket.  Mulder pressed down into her,
both hands holding her face and gazing down into her eyes with a
wealth of love evident in his - and the kiss he gave her melted her
heart and most of her struggling resolve.  He murmured into her
mouth, "You getting back your control, Scully?  Feel free to use me
as your strengthening tool any old time."  She laughed shakily and
nipped at his full lower lip before she deigned to give him a reply.

"You're an idiot, Mulder..." He grinned.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

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

~ Chapter Six ~

The volume on the television was turned down to a quiet murmur. 
Scully idly listened to the local news, but her attention was focused
elsewhere.  Specifically, it was focused on Mulder, as he slept with
his head nestled comfortably in her lap.  The recently repaired air-
conditioner hummed softly in the background.  Her fingers played
gently with a lock of dark hair that had tumbled onto his forehead. 
Too busy with their research to get to the barber, his hair was
growing out of the short cut he had adopted over the last two years. 
Scully found the longer look of it very sexy; she'd get around to
admitting this discovery to Mulder, sooner or later.  She smiled at
the thought of his reaction to her admission.

Mulder frowned in his sleep and shifted on the sofa.  Scully
feathered gentle fingers over his brow, soothing him and jealously
guarding his sleep from anything that would disturb it, even bad
dreams. She watched the tiny creases in his forehead smooth out and
his mouth once again grow slack.  He hummed her name softly and
burrowed his face into the soft cotton of the T-shirt covering her
lap. His breath was warm and comforting against her.

Fingers still toying with his hair, she reflected on the changes
wrought in their relationship over the last few months.  She was
continually amazed that in the depths of the living nightmare into
which they had been plunged, they managed to carve out small moments
of peace and happiness and normalcy.  She didn't know what the future
held for the world, but she knew that her future was inextricably
bound to Mulder's.  

Breaking free of her reverie, she glanced toward the television. 
Immediately, her attention was caught and held by the reporter on the
screen.  Fumbling with one hand to turn up the volume with the remote
control, she shook Mulder awake with the other.

"Huh?" he said, eyeing her blearily.  Scully scooted to the edge of
the sofa, nearly tumbling Mulder onto the floor.  "Hey!" he said
indignantly as he sat up.  "What are you... mmmpf!"  His words were
cut off when Scully clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shh!" she demanded, her eyes never leaving the television screen. 
Mulder turned to see what had captured her attention.

"...that's exactly right, Jim," the reporter said as she held a
microphone to her mouth, "This is the fourth such attack by a swarm
of bees in the Southwest in recent weeks."  She glanced down to a
piece of paper in her hand and then looked back into the camera. 
"About thirty-five people were stung in this most recent outbreak. 
They were all brought here, to Mercy Hospital," she said indicating
the building behind her.  "But a hospital source tells me that FEMA -
the Federal Emergency Management Agency - has ordered the evacuation
of all of the victims and that they have been taken to a quarantine
center that has been established here in the Southwest for treatment."

Scully could feel Mulder's fingers digging into her thigh, but her
attention was still riveted to the reporter who was pressing a finger
to her ear, apparently listening to someone's question over her
earpiece.

"No, Jim.  Nobody has said where these swarms are originating.  Of
course, there is speculation among the local population that these
are the killer bees we've so often heard about over the years, but
there is no official confirmation of that.  Live from Sedona,
Arizona, I'm Lisa Sanchez."

The local D.C. anchor thanked their sister station from Arizona for
the report and then turned the news over to the sports reporter. 
Scully finally turned when Mulder tugged insistently on her arm.

"Quarantine center, my ass... those people are going into
incubation.  I saw it on that ship at Wilke's Land... hundreds of
those goddamn pods filled with green alien shit.  Every one of those
poor innocents are going to become involuntary food for alien
embryos.  It's time to talk to Skinner," he told her.

She nodded, feeling sick to her stomach at the thought of what was
happening and would continue to happen to so many.  "First thing in
the morning."

**********

"Look Agents," Skinner said as Mulder finished briefing him.  "I
need evidence.  I need something that I can take to the Director.  If
what you are saying is true, then I need concrete proof - because
eventually I'm going to have to release a statement which can be
taken and presented to the White House."

Mulder snarled in frustration and leapt to his feet, pacing around
the office.  As always, nobody could just accept - with everything
they'd presented their AD, and with what he'd already seen over the
years with his own eyes it still wasn't enough...  He turned to
Scully just as she stood and walked around Skinner's desk.  Leaning
down next to him, she dug through the papers scattered across the
desk, sorting through them rapidly.  Quickly choosing some pages and
discarding others, she began to lay them out neatly.  Looking up, she
beckoned to Mulder.

"Come on, Mulder.  Sit back down.  We'll go over this slowly and
methodically."

Mulder dragged his hands through his hair and sank down into the
visitor's chair in front of Skinner's desk.  "We don't have time for
slow and methodical," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Scully's smile was soft and meant only for him.  "Mulder, you've
already convinced your most difficult audience.  I believe you.  If
you can convince me..."

Turning to their boss, she tapped her index finger on top of one
page.  "Just follow along, Sir.  It all makes a kind of horrifying
sense."  She led him through page after page of ancient journal
entries and witness accounts.  She brought his attention to numerous
police reports as well as articles in newspapers, both national and
international, dating as far back as the early 1800s all the way up
to the present.

"We're still not sure what was going on in the Sixties and early
Seventies," she told him.  "Maybe there was a step up in the testing,
but instead of sporadic reports of the black oil, there is a great
deal of documented evidence to show that they had accelerated their
activity in some way."  Her finger skimmed over the highlighted
portions of the documents they had collected.  "The assassinations of
John F. Kennedy, his brother, Bobby, and Martin Luther King, Jr. 
Charles Manson.  The incredible brutality found not only in the
jungles of Viet Nam but also among the demonstrators at home.  Kent
State University..." Her voice trailed off.

Mulder leaned into Skinner's field of vision.  "Things seemed to
quiet down a little in the latter part of the 1970s, although we did
find something in an interview given by one of the American hostages
after their release from Iran where he mentions a 'darkness emanating
from the eyes' of their captors.  The pace picked up again in the
early Eighties.  The attempts on Pope John Paul II's life as well as
on President Reagan's life.  The murder of John Lennon."  His eyes
pleaded with his boss to make the leap.

Scully picked up the recitation again.  "In the Nineties the focus
seemed to move away from world leaders.  It was as if the most
important and influential people of the modern world had been
eliminated and now Joe Public could have a turn... the virus seemed
to be manifesting itself in ordinary people committing
extraordinarily heinous crimes."  She dug through a file and pulled
out a sheaf of photocopied documents.

"Here," she said, slapping a piece of paper onto the desk.  "A young
mother, who by all accounts was a woman who doted on her children,
suddenly turned on them one morning while they were sleeping.  She
butchered them in their beds."  Her breathing hitched and she
squeezed her eyes closed, searching for, and finding control quickly.

"Here," she continued, pointing to another highlighted portion of
text.  "A young boy, only fourteen years old, took his father's
hunting rifle to his school and methodically murdered five of his
classmates while they were playing on the schoolyard during recess."

Mulder took the file from her hands and grabbed another handful of
papers from it.  "It's all here," he said urgently.  "Here and here
and again, here."  His voice was tense as he set page after page onto
Skinner's desktop.  "Each and every time, there is some mention of a
black film, or a 'black evil' that covered the perpetrator's eyes. 
He spread his hands imploringly.  "No one has ever made the
connection before.  Until now."

Scully watched him walk over to the window and peer through the
blinds.  Following him across the room, she took her partner's hand
into her own and turned back to their boss.

"Mulder believes that these reports of scattered, deadly bee stings
and people being taken to quarantine centers will continue to
escalate over the next few weeks and that the virus will be released
in a full-scale attack beginning over the Labor Day weekend.  I agree
with him."  She drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders,
standing between her boss and her partner.  Her back was pressed into
Mulder's chest and she continued to clasp his hand in her own in a
physical display of unity.

"Our research shows that historically, there have been periods of
time when the level of the aliens' movements against the human race
have seemingly been heightened for no apparent reason.  The recent
incidents involving Jason Martin and Darrell Moore would seem to bear
out this pattern.  However," her voice was firm and steady as she
emphasized her point.  "At no time before in history has this violent
behavior been coupled so closely with a large number of reported
outbreaks of swarming bees."

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the man standing quietly
behind her.  He nodded and set his hands onto her shoulders,
squeezing lightly.  They had to make their superior see... it was
time to take as much control over the situation as possible.  

"If you wait to gather more evidence, it'll be too late, Sir,"
Mulder told their boss.  

Skinner nodded and looked at the papers strewn across his desk. 
Ruthlessly tamping down a rising sense of panic, he lifted his head
and eyed the two agents standing near the window.  It was a beautiful
day, he noted.  The sky was a brilliant blue and the sunlight
streamed through the blinds, gilding the hair of the couple standing
so earnestly before him.  How could such natural earthly beauty
disguise such an ugly, malignant undergrowth such as this?  It was
beyond his comprehension... it had always been so.  Of the three of
them Mulder had been the only true believer.  Now it seemed the
skeptics had no choice but to accept, and believe.

"What do we do?" he asked grimly.

********

Mulder got his first taste of media scorn when he tried to arrange
an official press conference to break the news.  With Skinner's
assistance and collaboration they contacted both local and national
broadcasting stations and scheduled the conference.  Newscasters and
reporters alike, always eager to exploit stories about anything
extraterrestrial, agreed to bring their cameras and their live feeds,
and showed up at the conference in record numbers.  FBI agents who'd
been involved on the fringes of past X-File cases and who now found
themselves ridiculing what they believed to be 'Spooky's latest
weirdness', soon discovered that not only did his partner believe and
accept but that AD Skinner did as well - and they began to listen. 
When the time came for the conference they were there to lend their
support and quantification.  Unfortunately the rest of the world
didn't much care to hear, much less heed, the warning that Mulder and
Scully tried to impart.  

If Mulder would have had one memory to take along with him that day,
it would be the way Scully stood up for him against the mass of
reporters who shot out derision-laden questions and remarks at them
both as they stood before the tangled web of microphones on the
podium in front of them.

"Agent Mulder!  Agent Mulder!  Do you really believe that we are
being systematically killed off..."

"...that all of the evil in the world can be traced..."

"Are you telling us you believe that Hitler was infected with this
virus which caused him to do the things he did?"

"Agent Mulder!"

"...bees?  Bio-engineered crops?  Alien incubators...?"

"Agent Mulder, according to your FBI file, you were recently
admitted to a psychiatric ward and hospitalized for an unexplained
neurological event... could this event have possibly triggered some
sort of imbalance in your reasoning and your ability to properly
function as a Federal Agent?"

"Agent Mulder!  These 'X-Files' that you work on - you chase ghosts
and other paranormal phenomena.  Are the taxpayers really funding the
bill for these kind of investigations? Are they aware that they pay
for you to do a sort of 'GhostBusters' routine in the name of the
FBI?"

"Agent Mulder!"

"Agent Mulder!"

His senses were blinded by the lights and the confusion.   It was
almost like that time, not so long ago, when he had been bombarded by
sound and other's thoughts.  Too confusing to sort through - and once
again he was nearly driven mad.  For a moment he panicked and his
heart sank as he realized that, as before, he was not to be believed.
The reporters would present all of his and Scully's research as the
ravings of a lunatic and the public would ignore it.  There was a
sudden movement at his side as Scully stepped up to the podium...

It took all of his control not to punch out a few lights of the
reporters who faced off against her as she stood tall at his side and
her low but firm words of conviction rang out over the crowd.  Above
the white roar of anger in his head her voice was an anchor which he
gladly clung to, her petite form suddenly inches more than it had
been five minutes prior.

"Agent Mulder is telling you the truth.  There is a worldwide threat
happening right now, this minute - and re-hashing past personal
moments in his or anyone else's life will not change that fact.  We
have proof - ample proof which shall be provided to the media. 
Documented reports of alien colonization have been ongoing for
hundreds of years - and before that, as far back as almost two
thousand years, there were more obscure but just as faithful
documentation of alien life on this planet.  This is not a hoax. 
It's not a joke or a publicity stunt or the ravings of a disturbed
mind.  I am a forensic pathologist as well as a Federal Agent and
Agent Mulder's partner.  I am also a scientist, and believe me when I
say that for years I was the most skeptical of all.  But this I
cannot refute - this I cannot discount.  It is real - it is
happening.  And the Federal Bureau of Investigation has a moral and
legal responsibility to inform you of these events so that you can in
turn report it to the media."  

Through her entire monologue Scully had remained calm and rational. 
Mulder was, as always, in awe of her demeanor - he would have liked
nothing better than to jump up and down on a few heads out there in
the crowd - but Scully kept her cool.  That she also defended his
reputation as a Federal Agent and as a man with his full mental
faculties... Mulder decided that he'd assure Scully knew without a
doubt what her public support meant to him.  

Five minutes later, three FBI Special Agents and a handful of their
colleagues discovered exactly how much their earnest plea to the
media had been believed - and accepted.

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

"I don't fucking believe this.  How can so many people be so
stupid?"  

Mulder stood in the middle of his living room watching the evening
news.  In between mounting reports of bee attacks still scattered
locally as well as nationally, and a report of a particularly nasty
attack nearby Belfast, Ireland... newscasters were showing bits and
pieces of the press conference of the day before, and snickering
openly about the idea of bees and the virus they were carrying.  A
female reporter, one of the more snidely vocal at the conference, was
standing in front of a home in Gary, Indiana; an entire family had
been attacked when about twenty swarming bees poured in through a
hole in their screen door and stung the family as they sat at the
dinner table.  Three children aged two through eleven had been stung
along with their parents and maternal grandmother, plus a niece who
had been staying with them over the summer.  

The reporter, having been at the press conference only hours before
this most recent report, had obviously high-tailed it over to Gary as
soon as the news broke.  During the newscast of the bee attack on the
Indiana family, not once did she mention anything about the press
conference and the evidence that had been revealed.  The public was
led to believe that once again a bee attack had happened for no
apparent reason, and the family, four of whom were still alive, would
be taken into quarantine by FEMA.

"Jesus!  What's it gonna take?  Aliens just busting out all over in
front of those humans still left standing?"  Mulder paced in a tight
circle, Scully watching helplessly.  Stopping in front of the window,
he rubbed his hands over his face, hard.  He was so angry and pissed
and just plain defeated... he didn't know what else could be done. 
At a gentle touch on his arm from Scully, he turned to face her,
looking down into her sympathetic eyes.  His own burned with
weariness; he'd gotten little sleep last night for worrying.  He
reached out his hand and slipped it around her little waist, pulling
her tightly against him and burying his face in her soft hair. 
Scully ran a soothing hand over his shoulderblades as she whispered
to him.

"Mulder, we did everything we could.  We alerted the media in the
correct and proper manner.  We were completely honest with them. 
They can't - won't - accept it.  At least, not yet.  Maybe by the
time they do it'll be too late."  She pulled her face out of his neck
and framed her hands around his jawline, her eyes holding his
earnestly.  "Sadly there's nothing we can do for those who don't
believe - but we can save the ones who do.  I think I'd better try
getting hold of Bill and Charlie, and Mom.  I'm going to make some
phone calls before we eat, okay?  Are you even hungry?"

Mulder shook his head, dropping a light kiss on her mouth, before
releasing her.  "Not really - but I suppose we should try.  Let me
see what I can find; I'll think of something.  You go call your
family."

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

~ Chapter Seven ~


Scully set the phone down quietly.  She could feel Mulder watching
her worriedly from across the room and she lifted frightened eyes to
his.

"Three days, Mulder."  She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and
began rocking back and forth in her seat.  "It's been three days and
I still can't reach any of them."

Mulder hurried to her and sank down on his knees in front of her. 
He pried loose her tightly clenched fingers and held them in his own.
She was shivering and her hands were icy despite the warmth of the
late summer evening.  She was bone-achingly weary, unable to sleep
with mounting worry over her inability to contact her family.

"I'm sure they are fine, Scully," Mulder soothed, chafing her hands
between his warm palms. 

"No," she shook her head vehemently.  "No, Mulder.  Something's
wrong.  I can feel it."  She pulled her hands free of his grip and
ran them through her tangled hair.  "Why don't they answer, Mulder?"
she asked, gripping her aching head in her hands.  "Don't you think
it's strange that none of them are home?"  She blew out a frightened
breath.  "What if... what if they are being targeted?" she asked. 
"What if the aliens specifically picked them out in order to punish
me?"  Her voice was raw with anguish.  "What if they're all--"

"Scully," he interrupted in a firm voice.  "You're letting your
imagination run wild now."

"But Mulder, I went to Mom's this morning and she's not home," she
told him, despite the fact that he accompanied her to her mother's
home.  "Her mail was piled up on the floor inside the front door and
I only get the answering machines at Bill's and Charlie's."  Her
hands gripped his wrists tightly.  "I waited too long," she berated
herself.  "I didn't think they would believe me and I waited too
long.  If anything has happened to them, I'll never..."  Frightened
tears trickled down her face.  

"Shh," he whispered, pushing her hair off her damp cheek.  "Scully,
you haven't slept in two days and you've barely eaten anything.  Your
imagination is getting the best of you..."  Scully shook her head so
hard her hair flew into her reddened eyes.

"No.  Mulder, something's not right.  I..."  She jerked as the
shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted them.  Lunging out of her
chair, she snatched up the receiver and thumbed the talk button.

"Hello?" she said hesitantly.  "Billy!"  Her voice was joyful. 
"Thank God!  Where have you been?  I've been trying to reach you for
three days now!"  Scully's eyes closed with relief at the sound of
her brother's voice, which was booming over the telephone wires loud
enough for Mulder to catch snatches of his end of the conversation.

"Dana?  What the hell is going on up there?" Bill demanded.  "Tara
and I took the kids camping this weekend and I come home to find
about twenty increasingly frantic messages from you on my answering
machine, not to mention your face plastered all over the newspapers!"

"Bill, look.  I know you don't believe anything that you've read,
but I promise you.  It's all true..."

Her brother snorted into the telephone.  "Jesus, Dana!  I prayed
that you would leave that partner of yours before this happened.  You
sound as crazy as he does.  And what are you doing?  Are you LIVING
with him now?  God in heaven!  My baby sister is shacking up with a
refugee from an insane asylum."

Scully let him rant and rave, wallowing in the sheer pleasure of
hearing his voice.  He could scream the house down as long as it
meant he was healthy and whole.  But when he stopped to take a
breath, she spoke quickly before he could start up again.

"Bill, I'm worried about Mom.  I went over to her house this morning
and it looks like she hasn't been home in days.  The mail is piled
up..."

"She's at Charlie's."

"What?" Scully asked in confusion.

"She went to visit Charlie and Jeannie and the kids," Bill told her.
"Didn't she tell you?"

Scully's eyes fluttered closed as she remembered her mother
discussing just such a trip with her a couple of weeks earlier.  She
started to sag with relief until she remembered that she had not been
able to contact her younger brother and his family either.

"Bill, then why aren't they answering?"  

Bill huffed impatiently into her ear. "Christ Dana!  I don't know. 
Maybe they went away for the weekend too."  

She shook her head.  "No, Bill.  I don't think... I just have a
really bad feeling that something has happened to them."

Bill sighed, a twinge of apprehension flaring briefly as he listened
to the panic evident in the voice of his normally unflappable sister.
"Look, if it will make you feel better, I'll drive down there
tomorrow and check up on them."

Scully's eyes widened and she latched onto the idea with both hands.
She was tired of sitting around waiting.  She needed to do something.
"I'm going with you," she told him.

"Dana, it's a long enough drive for me.  There's no reason for both
of us to go.  Besides, when I get there I'm sure they'll be safe and
sound.  I think you're worrying for no reason."

"I pray you're right, Bill.  If you are, I give you permission to
say 'I told you so' until you are blue in the face.  But I'm still
going with you."

Bill sighed again, recognizing that note of determination in her
voice.  It was the same tone their mother always used; the tone that
meant she wouldn't tolerate an argument.  "Fine," he said.  "Why
don't you leave first thing in the morning.  It's almost a four hour
drive from D.C. to Norfolk.  I'll look for you around 11:00 a.m.  If
we drive straight through, we should be at Charlie's in time for
leftovers."

Scully smiled softly into the phone.  "I'll see you tomorrow," she
said.

"See you then," he said, lowering the phone to his side.

"Bill!" she cried out urgently and he lifted the phone back to his
ear.

"Yeah?"

"I love you, Billy," she whispered.

He exhaled harshly.  "Love you too, Dana."  He set down the phone,
listening to the sound of Tara putting the children to bed.  Poking
his head into Matthew's room, he watched his wife tuck a teddy bear
into the bed with Matty.  Bill crossed the room and pressed a kiss
onto his son's forehead. "Goodnight, Matty," he said softly.  The
sleepy child wrapped tiny arms around his father's neck. "Night,
Daddy," he whispered drowsily.  Bill hugged him in his strong arms,
allowing the smell of baby shampoo and little boy to soothe away the
tension generated by the very real fear he had heard in his sister's
voice.

**********

The smile Scully turned on Mulder was brief but happy.  "They're
okay," she said.

He smiled back.  "I'm glad."  His smile faded as his voice took on a
serious note.  "You do know I'm going with you tomorrow, don't you?"

A picture of Bill's face when he saw Mulder riding shotgun flashed
briefly through her mind and she lifted her fingers to her temple in
anticipation of the pounding headache she was sure to have about 45
minutes into the trip, but she wouldn't have it any other way.  

"I know."

Mulder looked away for a moment before turning back at her.  He
opened his mouth to speak and then closed it abruptly.  "There's one
more thing we need to talk about," he said finally.

Scully looked at him expectantly, patiently waiting while he
gathered his thoughts.

"We need to start thinking about leaving here," he said.  "And we're
going to need to convince your family to come with us."

Scully's head snapped back in surprise at his unexpected
announcement and Mulder once again crouched in front of her.  He
settled his hands on her knees and traced his thumbs over the soft
skin of her legs from knees to the hem of her denim shorts.

"We both know there's no way to stop this."  He looked at her
steadily.  "We need to go someplace else, someplace where we stand a
chance of survival.  We need to do everything in our power to stay
alive."

Scully's eyes rounded.  She had been so intent on their research and
had struggled so hard to accept that invasion and colonization was
really happening, that she had not really thought any further.  She
was stunned to realize that they would have to leave their homes and
all that was familiar to start a life elsewhere.  She looked around
Mulder's apartment, her eyes skimming over the aquarium and the
bookcase, the familiar sofa where they had spent so many nights
wrapped in each other's arms over the last few months - and nodded.

"Someplace cold," she murmured, staring into his eyes.  After their
ordeal in Antarctica, Scully had grown to hate the cold.  Now, she
thought, what had nearly killed them before might save them. 
"Where?" she asked.

Mulder shrugged.  "I've been thinking about Alaska.  As far north
within Alaska as we could go."  He stood and pulled her to her feet. 
"Listen, we don't have to decide this tonight.  I just wanted you to
consider it before we reach your family."

Scully turned toward the computer.  "Maybe we should do some
research on Alaska," she suggested.

Mulder caught her by the arm.  "I've already started," he told her. 
"You can read it in the car on the way to Norfolk tomorrow.  He
steered her toward the bedroom.  "Right now, you need to get some
sleep."

"Mulder, I can't sleep," she protested.  "I'm too nervous."

"Scully, you can't keep going without sleep," he told her.  "You're
going to need all of your strength just to make it through seven
hours in the car with Bill and me."

She made a face and heaved a sigh.  "I just don't think I'll be able
to stop worrying long enough to fall asleep," she admitted.

"What about those sleeping pills you sometimes force down my
throat?" he asked.

Scully pursed her lips and resolutely shook her head.  "No."

Mulder leveled his gaze on her.  "Scully."

She ground her teeth in frustration.  "Fine.  Okay."  She went into
the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet.  Rooting through the
various prescription bottles, she found the one she was searching for
and shook one pill into her hand.  Mulder handed her a tumbler filled
with water and she swallowed the pill under his watchful gaze.  

"All gone, see?" she said, opening her mouth to show him that she
had swallowed the pill.  

He grinned quickly and pressed his lips to her forehead.  "Good girl."

Scully pushed him out of the bathroom and quickly finished getting
ready for bed.  When she stepped into the bedroom, she saw that
Mulder had pulled back the covers.  She changed into a pair of
striped cotton pajama bottoms and a ribbed tank top and slid into
bed.  Mulder settled onto the mattress and pulled her feet into his
lap.

"I'll stay here until you fall asleep," he told her as he began to
rub her feet.  

"Aren't you coming to bed?" she asked.

"No, I'm gonna watch some television - hopefully unwind a bit
first," he said as he dug his thumbs into the arch of her foot.

She nestled her head into the pillow.  "Don't stay up too late," she
said, hiding a yawn behind her hand.  She blinked at him through
heavy lashes. 

Mulder continued to gently rub her feet until he saw her breathing
even out as she drifted into sleep.  He drew the sheet over her and
kissed her softly on the lips.

"Sleep well," he whispered.  "I love you."

She murmured softly in her sleep, and smiled.

***********

His eyes opened very slowly; it felt as if weights were pressing
into them.  He wasn't sure of what had awoken him... he looked around
and saw mostly a darkness obscuring the corners of the room.  He sat
up slowly, suddenly alert.  That smell... delicate perfume.

'You're stubborn, Fox.  You should have left long before now, you
and your Dana.'  

He squinted in the darkness, barely able to make out the soft edges
of her cloak.

"Samantha... it IS you.  Please, is it too late for us?  I should
have listened to you..."  He could see her covered head nodding
slowly in agreement.

'Yes, you should have.  You've almost left it too long.  But you
have to leave, now.  You're not safe here.  Take her and get out, Fox
- get out now.  You're in danger.  Someone is coming for you...'  

The panic set deeply within, almost painful.  "Who?  Who's coming? 
Tell me, please tell me..."

'No.  It's a waste of time to linger, waiting for names and faces -
go now.  Please, Fox.  Do you want to end up like this...?'

She threw back her hooded drape.  And at first her dark curling hair
hid her face - but only for a moment.  She shook back the long
tresses, and a bee fluttered from her hair... then he could hear the
buzzing, of many bees.  He didn't want to look; he squeezed his eyes
tightly shut...

He had to look.

Oh God... no face. Where her sweet face should have been... there
were only bees.  Hundreds of squirming, swarming bees...  He screamed.


***********
He screamed...

Mulder jolted awake with a start.  Scrubbing his hands over his
face, he shook off the remnants of sleep, and a nightmare so vivid it
still danced across his closed eyes.  Placing a hand over his
pounding heart, he concentrated on regulating his breathing, opening
his sleep-crusted eyes.  

"What time is it?" he muttered, squinting at the illuminated dial of
his watch.  Midnight.  Rising from the couch, he rubbed his hand over
his aching neck and turned the television off.  A sound from outside
captured his attention and he looked out of his living room window. 
"Shit!" he cried, sprinting for the bedroom.

"Scully!" he whispered loudly.  "Scully!  Come on, baby.  I need you
to wake up."

He pulled her into a sitting position and shook her lightly.  She
moaned and her head lolled back onto her shoulders.  Oh God, he
thought.  The sleeping pill.  Shit.  Bracing himself, he slapped her
lightly across the cheek.

"Mmm... what?  Mulder?" She peered at him drunkenly.  He grabbed
their guns from the night stand and shoved his wallet, keys and cell
phone into his pockets.

"Scully!" he said harshly, demanding that she pay attention.  "We've
got to get out of here.  Now!"  He wrapped his arm around her waist
and grabbed her sneakers from the floor with his free hand.  "Come
on!"  

Mulder pulled her out of the bedroom and stopped in the living room.
Creeping over to the door, he pressed his ear against the wood and
listened.  The hallway was quiet and he eased the door open and drew
her into the hallway.  Throwing the lock on the door, he quietly
pulled it closed behind them and cocked his head, listening. Blinking
against the harsh florescent lights, Scully opened her mouth and he
hushed her, placing his fingers over her lips.  Eyes wide with
fright, she nodded.  He stopped again at the door to the stairwell
and held his breath.  He could hear booted feet climbing the steps as
well as the sound of the elevator as it creaked upward.  Shoving her
sneakers at her, he slid the safety off his gun.  Grabbing her by the
hand, he entered the stairwell cautiously and they quickly and
soundlessly ran up two flights.  Scully was wide awake now with the
force of the adrenaline rushing through her system and she turned
anxious eyes toward him.

"Soldiers," he breathed into her ear.  

"How many?" she asked as she took her gun out of the waistband of
his jeans.

He shrugged.  "Six." 

"Are you sure?" she demanded quietly.

He nodded confidently.  "Yeah.  I counted them."

"Okay," she said.  "Do you have a plan?"

He shook his head and they tensed as the soldiers continued to
slowly and quietly make their way up the stairs.  Mulder and Scully
tightened their grips around their guns, hoping that surprise would
be on their side.  They watched from their perch between the fifth
and sixth floors as the soldiers eased open the door of the stairwell
and slipped into the hallway.  They warily crept down one flight of
stairs.

"Was that all six of them?" Mulder asked, his voice a mere breath.

Scully nodded, her eyes and gun trained on the door below them. 
When they heard the splintering sound of wood coming from the hall,
they sprinted down the stairs.  They crept outside, alert for any
signs of danger.  They could hear the raised shouts of the soldiers
as they realized that their prey had escaped.  Glancing down the
street to Mulder's car, Scully shook her head.  "We'll never make it.
We'd be better off on foot right now," she hissed in his ear.  

"Let's go," he said.  They raced down the street and slipped into a
dark alleyway on the next block.  They continued to run through
alleys and driveways until they were about two miles from Mulder's
apartment building.  Collapsing onto the sidewalk in the shadow of a
darkened restaurant, they fell into each other's arms.

"Oh my God!" Scully panted into his neck. "Oh God!  Mulder that was
so close."

"We're okay, we're okay," he chanted, stroking his hands under the
cropped hem of her tank top, pulling her flush against his body. 
"We're okay."

Forcing much-needed oxygen into her lungs, she pulled back to look
at him.  "Now what?" she asked.

Mulder bit his lip and looked around.

"We need help," she whispered.

Mulder nodded and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, quickly
dialing a number.  He waited while the phone rang three times before
being answered.

"Sir?"  he said in hushed tones into the phone.  "It's Mulder.  We
need your help."  He swiftly explained the events of the last thirty
minutes.  "Can you pick us up?" he asked.  Mulder listened for a
moment and then spoke again.  "I'd like to put a little more distance
between us and them," he said.  "We're going to keep moving," he told
their boss.  "We'll meet you outside of Sardelli's in an hour," he
murmured.  "Yes sir," he nodded.  "We will.  See you soon."

He ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket, then
helped Scully to her feet.  She winced, sucking in a painful breath. 
She had run the entire way without shoes and the soles of her feet
were scraped up.  She sank back down onto the pavement and Mulder
slid down with her.  He lifted one of her feet in his hands and
studied it in the glow of the street lamp.  He gently brushed away
the grit and dirt.  "Thankfully, you're not bleeding," he told her. 
"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Scully asked, stroking disheveled hair from his
forehead.  "For saving us?"  She slid her sneakers onto her feet,
grimacing slightly as she stood.  "It's not that bad, really.  We
should get going."

He nodded and once again they set off through back streets and
alleys until they reached the popular restaurant that was their
rendezvous point with Skinner.  The restaurant was closed and they
sat down on the sidewalk along the darkened side of the building,
keeping out of sight of the road.  Scully tucked herself into
Mulder's embrace and rested her head against his chest, wrapping her
arms around his waist.  He hugged her tightly with one arm, and held
his gun loosely in his lap with the other hand.  Now that the rush of
adrenaline had worn off, Scully could once again feel the effects of
the sleeping pill.  She struggled to stay alert but it was becoming
difficult for her to keep her eyes open.  Mulder smoothed his hand
over her head, wanting to tell her it was okay for her to sleep, but
afraid for