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 them to let down their guard until Skinner had safely
picked them up. They both tensed at the sound of tires crunching over
the gravel driveway and Mulder peered around the side of the building
cautiously.  Sagging with relief, he pulled Scully out of the shadows
and they hurried forward.

Skinner jumped down from the driver's side of a Ford Excursion and
Mulder eyed the huge vehicle wonderingly.  Skinner glanced over his
shoulder at the dark blue vehicle and then back.  "It'll give us a
lot of protection," he said.

Mulder nodded and started to lead Scully toward the truck. She hung
back, self-consciously crossing her arms over her breasts. "Thank you
for coming out to get us, Sir," she said, a blush staining her cheeks.

Skinner nodded and cleared his throat, studiously averting his gaze,
but not before taking in her tousled hair and flushed cheeks, the
drowsy blue eyes; the unbound breasts, the pale skin of her stomach
exposed by the cropped tank top and the thin cotton pajamas covering
her legs.  She looked like a woman who had just crawled out of a
man's bed. Climbing back behind the steering wheel, he watched Mulder
tenderly settle Scully into the back seat, urging her to lie down and
try to sleep, and he knew that that was exactly where she had been
before all hell broke loose.   "We better get going," he said
gruffly.  "Where to?" he asked after Mulder hauled himself up into
the passenger seat next to him.

Mulder twisted in his seat to look back at Scully.  Their eyes met
and she nodded.  He turned back to his boss.

"Norfolk."

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

~ Chapter Eight ~

The Excursion ate up the miles and spit them out in a flume of
exhaust, quiet engine reflecting the equally-quiet interior of the
vehicle.  In the spacious back seat Scully slept like the dead.  Once
the rush of adrenaline from their escape had worked its way out of
her tired body she'd crashed hard, actually snoring very softly. 
Mulder stared out the windshield and tried to hold in a tired grin. 
The sound of that tiny little snorting snore was so endearing...  He
turned his head a bit and caught Skinner eyeing him sideways as he
drove on through the darkness, the electronic dashboard display
casting a greenish glow over his stern features.  Skinner cleared his
throat and his voice was low and gruff.

"Didn't know Agent Scully snored..."  Mulder shook his head and the
grin broke free and wreathed his face as he replied in an equally low
voice.

"Neither did I.  Must be that sleeping pill she took earlier,
before... well, before.  She'd had about three hours of heavy sleep
under the influence, then I had to get her on her feet in a hurry and 
I guess her instincts took over."  Mulder rubbed at his tired eyes
and refilled both their cups; Skinner had remembered he carried a
large thermos in the vehicle and they had stopped at a Stop N Go and
had filled it with hot coffee.  He handed Skinner a full cup and his
AD grunted his thanks, draining half the hot liquid and holding out
the cup for a top-off, before speaking again.

"Agent Mulder - did you recognize any of those men, or weren't you
able to see them clearly?  If we could establish who'd sent them -" 
Mulder interrupted him with a firm shake of his head.

"No.  I didn't see their faces.  But I know who - or should I say
'what' - they are.  Consortium go-fers; that's what I figure.  They
may have been human or they may have been alien.  Maybe a little of
both.  Doesn't matter. They meant to kill us and leave no evidence
behind."

"How did you know to get out of there so quickly?"  Skinner was
curious.  Mulder shrugged, unwilling to talk about his dream, knowing
how strange it would sound to anyone else.  And yet, Skinner had seen
some things in his seven years with him and Scully... he decided to
try it.

"I had a dream, Sir..."  And he proceeded to tell it.

Ten minutes later Skinner gulped down another half cup of now-tepid
coffee, shot Mulder a frowning glance and commented, "You know,
Mulder... most guys have hot dreams when they're sleeping in the
vicinity of the woman they love.  But not you, huh?"

Hearing the word 'love' popping out of his bosses' mouth so casually
about gave Mulder heart failure and he almost dropped his coffee in
astonishment.  How...?  The look on his face must have been priceless
even in the dim green of the front cab.  Skinner caught it and barked
out a snicker.

"Jesus, Mulder!  How stupid do you think I am?  You're together at
some ungodly hour on a weeknight running through the streets of DC
with killers on your asses - and Agent Scully's in her jammies. 
What else could it be, if not love?"  Skinner shook his head and
laughed when Mulder's jaw dropped again.

"Look, it's okay, Agent.  The whole fucking world could come
crashing down around our ears any day now.  If you can find someone
special in that kind of disaster, then I say go for it.  You and
Scully are very lucky.  Never forget that."  And with one hard nod in
Mulder's general direction, Skinner turned his attention back to the
road, fiddling with the radio until he found a station playing soft
blues. Mulder relaxed in his seat and brought the cup to his mouth,
smiling as he drank his coffee... thoughtful.

Relaxed, for the first time in days.  Somehow, it was going to be
all right. Odd, but with Skinner's approval came a feeling of safety
along with the acceptance.  And in that one moment it dawned on
Mulder just how much importance he'd placed on his AD's blessing. 
Now, more than ever it wasn't just Mulder and Scully against the
world.  Skinner had joined the fray.

It was comforting...

They drove on through the night.

**********

Scully awoke slowly, stretching luxuriously.  She dragged her eyes
open and smiled sleepily at Mulder who was perched on the edge of the
bed.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Morning," she mumbled, fighting to suppress a yawn.  She relaxed
into the pillows again, her eyes drifting closed until she remembered
the events of the previous evening and sat up with a gasp.  "Mulder,
where are we?" she asked, looking wildly around the unfamiliar room.

Mulder eased her back against the pillows.  "Skinner and I figured
that we would be at Bill's house around five-thirty in the morning if
we drove straight through and we were both pretty tired.  We decided
to stop here for the night and get some sleep."

"Oh," she said, leaning forward to wrap her arms around his waist
and rest her cheek on his shoulder.  "Good idea."

Mulder slid his hands under her shirt and Scully arched her spine,
enjoying the feel of his big hands running over her back.  She was
considering the possibility of going back to sleep for a little while
longer when there was a tap at the door.  Skinner walked in carrying
a cardboard tray filled with coffee cups and two bags.

"Coffee," he said, setting the tray onto the table by the door. 
Scully gasped and flung herself out of Mulder's arms, hastily pulling
up the sheet and drawing her knees up to her chest.  Skinner popped
the lid from one cup and took a sip of the steaming liquid.  "There's
a convenience store across the street," he said.  "I also bought
bagels, the morning paper, toothpaste and some toothbrushes."  He
rummaged through one of the bags and withdrew a plastic encased
toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste.  "Good morning, Agent
Scully," he said as he passed her on the way to the bathroom.

Mulder tried to pull Scully back into his arms, but she squirmed out
of his grasp.  "Mulder!" she said, throwing a worried look at the
bathroom door.  "Stop it!"

"It's all right, Scully," Mulder told her.  "He knows about us." 
She glared at him and Mulder threw his hands up.  "Hey," he defended
himself.  "He figured it out on his own last night."  Scully
continued to resist his attempts to pull her back into his embrace,
nervously eyeing the bathroom door.  "Scully."  Mulder pressed two
fingers against her jaw, forcing her to look at him.  "Relax, he
approves.  In fact, he gave me his blessing last night."

Scully sighed and nodded, grateful that she wouldn't have to face
Skinner's disapproving face all day long.  "Okay," she said,
relieved.  "But I can't parade around in front of my boss dressed
like this."  She plucked at her skimpy clothes in agitation.  Mulder
grinned at her and stared admiringly at the cropped shirt.

"Scully, you're wearing more clothes than you would if you were at
the beach!" he reasoned.  "I think you look great."

"Since I have no intention of ever wearing a bathing suit in front
of our boss, that isn't exactly comforting," she hissed.  Scully
scrambled out of bed and stood in front of him.  "Mulder, look at me!"

Mulder felt a surge of lust curl low in his belly as his gaze
skimmed over the soft, natural shape of her breasts, down to the peek-
a-boo glimpse of smooth skin exposed beneath the hem of her shirt
before settling on her bare feet - and he realized that she had a
point.

"Scully," he said reasonably.  "He knows I had to drag you out of
bed last night."  She moaned and buried her face in her hands.

"We were running for our lives," he reminded her.  "It's not like we
had time to pack."  She nodded unhappily.  Mulder tried again. 
"Skinner is a gentleman and he's always treated you with respect. 
That isn't going to change just because he saw you in your pajamas." 
He looked at her reassuringly.  "Want some coffee?" he asked.

She followed him to the table and carefully moved one of the chairs
behind the table, settling herself into it.  "Don't smirk, Mulder,"
she said as she caught him hiding a smile behind his coffee cup. 
"I'd like to see how you would react if you had to spend the day with
him wearing nothing but your boxers!"

Mulder choked on his coffee and Scully resisted the childish urge to
stick her tongue out at him.  Instead she took the only cinnamon-
raisin bagel out of the bag and was nibbling on it delicately when
Skinner emerged from the bathroom.  

"Good morning, Sir," she said calmly, gathering courage from her
hiding place behind the table.

They ate quickly and Scully gave Mulder a grateful look as he
arranged a little private time for her to get ready.  "Sir, why don't
we take the truck across the street to the convenience store?  We can
fill up the gas tank and refill the thermos while Scully calls Bill
to let him know we'll be early."

Skinner palmed his keys and ambled out to the parking lot.  "Thank
you," Scully whispered as she pressed a grateful kiss to Mulder's
lips.

"We'll wait for you outside," he told her; kissing her gently, he
headed for the door.  She quickly washed up and brushed her teeth,
then used her fingers to try to smooth the worst of the tangles in
her hair.  Next she called Bill and informed him that they would be
there shortly, telling him that she would explain why when they got
there.  Hanging up the phone, she slid her feet into her sneakers and
tugged down the hem of her shirt before opening the door.  Mulder was
standing alongside the car and Skinner was intently studying a map as
she stepped out in the morning sun.  Her lips tilted upward in a fond
glance at both men as she climbed into the back of the car.

*********

Thirty-five minutes later they pulled into the driveway of Bill and
Tara Scully's house.  Bill was waiting at the door and stepped
outside as Scully hopped down to the ground.  "Bill," she cried as
she hurried to her brother.  Bill leaned down and wrapped a strong
arm around her waist, lifting her until her feet dangled an inch or
two above the ground.  Mulder rounded the car and leaned against the
hood, watching a tiny smile bloom across Scully's face as her brother
whispered something in her ear.

He set her down onto the driveway and pushed her back so that he
could get a better look at her.  "Dana," he asked.  "Why are you
wearing your pajamas?"

She grimaced.  "It's a long story - I'll tell you about it inside." 
Bill slung an arm around his sister's shoulders and turned to face
the two men waiting by the car.  Scully drew her brother forward. 
"Bill, I believe you've met my boss, Assistant Director Walter
Skinner."  The two men nodded and shook hands.  "And, of course, you
know Mulder."  She tilted her face up to her brother and shot him a
warning glance.  Bill bared his teeth at her in a parody of a smile
and held out his hand to Mulder.

"Mulder."

Mulder clasped the other man's hand. "Good to see you, Bill."

Bill grunted noncommittally.  "Let's go in the house," he said.  He
pushed open the screen door and they filed into the house.  Tara
stepped into the living room and hurried over to the small group
gathered by the door.

"Dana!" she exclaimed, hooking one arm around Scully's shoulders and
brushing her lips across her cheek.  "You look... Dana - why are you
wearing your pajamas?" she asked in confusion.

Scully groaned and returned Tara's kiss.  "Give me a minute and
we'll tell you.  But first..." She held out her arms and Tara
transferred her eighteen-month-old daughter into her aunt's care.

"Hey Meggie," Scully murmured, bouncing the child in her arms. 
"It's Aunt Dana.  Can you say hi?"  The baby pulled her fist from her
mouth and waved glistening fingers at her aunt.  Scully laughed and
lifted her over her head, kissing the baby's belly and making her
shriek with glee.

"Aunt Dana!"  Little feet galloped down the stairs and three-year-
old Matthew Scully raced into view. Scully handed her niece back to
Tara and bent down to scoop him up, grunting as she hefted his sturdy
body in her arms.  "Whoa, Matty!  You're getting huge.  Pretty soon,
you're gonna be taller than me!"

Bill muttered something under his breath and Scully turned her head
toward him.  "I heard that, Bill.  No short jokes," she warned. 
Turning back to her nephew, she said.  "Tell him, Matty.  No picking
on Aunt Dana."  The little boy giggled and buried his face against
her shoulder.  Scully closed her eyes and rested her cheek against
his hair, swaying back and forth.

"Um, Dana?" Tara asked.  "You were going to tell us why you're
wearing your pajamas," she reminded her sister-in-law.  Scully opened
her eyes and looked over Matty's head at Mulder.  The smile faded
from her face and she turned to her brother and his wife.  "We need
to talk," she said solemnly.

Tara looked at her son.  "Matty, Blue's Clues is coming on in a
minute.  Why don't you take your sister into the other room to watch
it?"  Matthew's head popped up from Scully's shoulder.  "Don't I get
a kiss?" Scully asked her nephew as he squirmed to be put down. 
Matty screwed up his lips and planted a sloppy kiss on her mouth. 
She set him down and he grabbed his baby sister by the hand and
dragged her toward the other room.  Tara looked at her sister-in-law
and the two men towering over her on either side and gestured toward
the kitchen.  "I made coffee.  Let's sit down."

******

"Jesus," Bill swore, pushing his cup away.   Tara's eyes were wide. 
"Soldiers?" she asked.  "United States military?"

Scully nodded, looking back and forth between her brother and his
wife.  Fixing her gaze on her brother, she spoke.  "Bill, I know you
don't want to believe any of this.  I resisted for years.  But I
cannot deny the evidence.  The threat is real and imminent."

Bill shook his head.  "I believe..." His jaw worked as he marshaled
his thoughts.  "I believe that the two of you stumbled into
something.  Something that the government doesn't want you to know.
Somebody wants you to be quiet and they are willing to kill you to do
so."  Bill could not refute this part of their story.  The arrival of
his always impeccably dressed sister on his doorstep wearing her
pajamas and a hunted look was all the proof he needed on this point. 
"I'm grateful that you were there to get Dana out of the house
safely," he said directing his gaze at Mulder.  

Scully knew it took a lot from Bill to thank Mulder.  She was well
aware of the fact that Bill thought Mulder was the reason she was in
danger in the first place.  She rose from her chair and stood next to
Mulder.  Stroking her fingers through his hair, she let her hand
settle warmly on the back of his neck.  Mulder tilted his face up to
hers, surprised by her sudden public display of affection, and
wrapped his arm around her legs, anchoring her at his side.  Their
embrace was easy, affectionate.  Comfortable.  Scully turned her
attention back to her brother and raised her brows challengingly. 
She was determined that Bill understand and accept the fact that
Mulder was a permanent part of her life.  Mulder, Tara and Skinner
watched the silent battle between the siblings until Bill finally
huffed out a disgusted breath.

He broke away from his sister's fierce look. "As I was saying, I am
grateful to you for Dana's safety, but as for the rest of the
story..." He shook his head and looked back at his sister.  "Killer
bees.  An alien invasion that you think dates back to the time of
Christ..."

"It probably goes back further than that," Mulder interrupted.  "But
that was the earliest documented evidence we were able to find."

Bill rolled his eyes.  "It sounds like something from a science
fiction movie," he muttered.

Scully spoke again.  "Look. We aren't going to settle anything right
now.  I'd like to get on the road so that we can get to Charlie's as
soon as possible."  She turned to her sister-in-law.  "Tara, do you
think I could borrow some clothes?" she asked.

Tara pushed her chair away from the table and stood, sending her
husband a warning glance.  "Sure.  Let's see what we can find," she
told Scully.  Looking back over her shoulder, she spoke to her
husband.  "Bill, it's too quiet in the other room.  Why don't you go
see what the kids are up to."

Scully followed Tara upstairs.  Tara pulled a pair of shorts out of
a drawer, as well as a clean pair of underwear.  "These should fit
you," she said, holding out the shorts to Scully.  "This way, we
won't have to worry about the length," she said, noting Scully's
shorter legs.

"Thanks," Scully took the clothes into her hands.  

Tara was rooting through her closet.  "I don't think my bras will
fit you," she called out.

"Probably not," Scully sighed.

Tara emerged from the closet and nearly laughed at the wistful
expression on Scully's face as she compared her petite build to her
sister-in-law's more ample proportions.  Tara lowered her mouth to
Scully's ear.  "Mulder seems content," she whispered
conspiratorially, handing her a short-sleeved denim shirt.  "Here.  I
think you'll feel a little more covered up in this than you would in
a T-shirt."

Scully's cheeks had flushed when Tara mentioned Mulder.  She cleared
her throat.  "I... uh... I'm just going in there to get changed," she
said, escaping into the master bathroom.  She emerged a few minutes
later, happy to be dressed in clean clothes.  "Thanks for the loan,
Tara," she smiled.  Tara handed her a hairbrush and Scully walked
over to the mirror on the dresser to bring some order to her hair. 
Tara sat down on the bed and regarded Scully in the mirror.

"Dana," she began slowly.  "Don't worry about Bill."  Scully frowned
into the mirror.  "I mean don't worry about what Bill thinks about
Mulder," Tara continued. Scully put down the brush and turned to face
Tara, who gave her a tiny smile.  "He takes his role as older brother
and protector very seriously."

Scully laughed softly.  "That's one way to put it." 

Tara's smile was sympathetic.  "He wants you to be safe.  Wait! 
Hear me out," she said as Scully moved impatiently.  "He wants you to
be safe," she repeated.  "But mostly, he wants you to be happy." 
Scully sighed and shook her head.  "I can see that Mulder makes you
happy.  It's obvious to anyone who is looking how much you love each
other.  When Bill sees that - and someday, I promise you, he will -
when he sees how happy you are with Mulder, then he'll accept him." 
She leaned back, bracing her hands on the mattress.  "Now," she said,
glancing quickly toward the door.  "If you don't mind indulging me in
a few minutes of girl talk, I want to know... how is it?" She smiled
impishly at her sister-in-law.  

Scully flushed again and she looked down at the floor.  "Oh, Tara. 
It's not like that.  We haven't..." Tara seemed surprised and Scully
sank down onto the mattress next to her.

"Why not?" Tara asked gently, all traces of a teasing smile gone
from her face.  "You've been living together.  You obviously adore
one another.  So what's holding you back?"

Scully ran one finger along the side seam of the shorts she was
wearing.  "We had only decided to take a chance on a more personal
relationship a few weeks before all of this happened."  She sighed. 
"I don't know, Tara.  The timing has always been wrong."

Tara picked up Scully's hand. "Listen, Dana," she said earnestly. 
"You never know what's going to happen.  If you wait for the perfect
moment... well there is no such thing."

Scully nodded.  "I know."  

The two women were quiet for a few moments and then Tara lifted her
head.  "Dana, I need to ask you one more thing."

Scully looked up expectantly.

"Everything you told us downstairs... the bees, the corn, the
ali...aliens," Tara stumbled over the incomprehensible thought.  "Do
you really believe all of that?"  Scully nodded, reaching out a hand
to grip her sister-in-law's cold fingers. 

"Tara," she began.  "I have never wanted to be wrong about anything
as much as I want to be wrong about this but, yes.  I do believe it.
The world as we know it is going to cease to exist."

Tara trembled and her pretty green eyes filled with tears.  "God,
Dana.  What are we going to do?"

Scully gripped her hands tightly.  "We're going to survive," she
said fiercely.  "We're going to get Mom, Charlie, Jeannie and the
kids and we're coming back here.  Then we're all going to leave this
place together."  

Tara looked up, fear and hope warring in her eyes.  "And go where?"
she asked.

"North, for sure.  The bees and the virus can't survive the cold,"
Scully explained.  "Tara, while we're gone you need to start getting
ready.  Dig out the kids' winter clothes - snowsuits, thermals,
boots, and gloves.  Pack sweaters, jeans and heavy socks and then do
the same for you and Bill."

Tara looked up with frightened eyes.  "Oh God.  Dana..."  Scully
took hold of her shoulders and stared into her eyes.

"Mulder, Director Skinner and I will do our best to convince the
others that we have to go, but Tara..." her gaze was determined.  "In
the end, it may be up to you to convince Bill.  He listens to you. 
He may fight you, but you have to stay strong.  You have to, Tara. 
If you want Matty and Meg to have a chance to grow up, you have to
convince him to go."

Tears streamed down Tara's face and Scully was afraid that she had
pushed her sister-in-law too hard.  But Tara was a military wife and
she was made of sturdy stuff.  She took a deep breath and visibly
pulled herself together.  "Okay," she sniffed.  "Okay."

Scully handed her a wad of tissues.  "All right then.  One more
thing and then we're going to get going."  She stared into Tara's
eyes.  "While we're gone, I want you to keep the children in the
house.  Lock the doors and the windows.  The bee attacks have been
random so far and there's no way to know where or when they'll strike
next.  Mulder and I believe that a series of large scale attacks will
begin over Labor Day."  She paused and took a deep breath.  "That's
less than three weeks from now, Tara."  She pulled her sister-in-law
close and wrapped her arms around her.  "No matter what happens, I
promise you that we'll be back here for you and the children
tomorrow."

********

Although she had slept soundly the night before, Scully's eyes grew
heavy with the hypnotic blur of trees and other cars rushing past the
window.  They had been on the road a little over three hours and the
air in the car was rife with tension.  Sitting next to his sister in
the back seat, Bill was brooding over the information that she,
Mulder and Skinner had given to him and Tara earlier in the day and
the others were reluctant to push him any further.  Skinner glanced
into the rearview mirror and then caught Mulder's eye, gesturing
toward the back seat.  Mulder looked over his shoulder to find Scully
fighting to stay awake.  Her head would fall forward and she would
quickly jerk it back up, her eyes opening briefly before sliding
closed again.

"Scully," he called softly.  Her head lifted at the sound of his
voice.  "Why don't you get comfortable and go to sleep.  You still
have a little catching up to do and we won't be at Charlie's for
hours yet."

Scully shook her head.  "I'm fine," she protested, sitting up and
forcing her eyes open.  Bill's sigh was exasperated.  He reached over
and slipped her sneakers from her feet.  "Come on," he said.  "Curl
up and get some sleep."  He adjusted her seat belt so that she would
be comfortable.  "Go to sleep, Dana.  We'll wake you before we get to
Charlie's."

Bill's gaze met Mulder's briefly before sliding back to stare
sightlessly out of the window.

*********

She awoke a few hours later to arguing voices.  She kept her face
pressed against the window and could feel her pulse begin to pound
behind her closed eyes.

"Look, Bill!" Mulder said hotly.  "Don't you think I want to keep
her safe too?  Knowledge is what is going to save us.  The fact that
she knows what is going to happen will help her to survive."

Bill swore softly.  "You know, you really kill me Mulder.  My sister
had a promising career ahead of her until she was partnered up with
you.  From the first day you met, you've been dragging her from one
dangerous situation into another.  And now!  Now you've got her
actually believing all of the crazy shit that you've been spouting
for years..."

"Stop it!"  Scully's voice was quietly commanding.  "Just stop it." 
She rolled her forehead against the glass and drew in a shuddering
breath.  Turning toward her brother, she looked at him solemnly. 
"Bill, I know that you love me and that you want what is best for me.
You've known me all of my life.  Look at me."  His eyes flicked
toward her briefly before sliding away.  "Bill!" she said through
clenched teeth.  He turned his head to meet her gaze.  "Look at me,"
she said again.  "Do you really think I'm crazy?" she asked in
disbelief.

Her brother hung his head.  "No.  I know you're not crazy."

She laid her hand over his.  "I know what is going on inside of you,
Bill.  The fear.  The denial.  But blaming Mulder isn't going to
change what's going to happen; what is happening.  If you listen to
him... if we work together, we might find a way to live through
this."  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.  "I love him, Billy...
and I need him.  He's not going away so you'd better learn to deal
with it." She sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand under her nose
and turned her attention to Mulder.  "As for you," she said leaning
forward.  "He's my big brother and he's spent a lifetime trying to
protect me.  So you'd better learn to deal with that."

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

About twenty miles outside of Charlotte they stopped for food and
gas, stocking up on snack-type items and bottled water.  No one felt
like eating in a restaurant and the overall mood of the group was
subdued.  They were tired, as well - Skinner had insisted on driving
the entire way and Mulder hadn't been inclined to argue.  Bill had
been mostly quiet, especially after Scully's declaration of a few
hours past.  She'd stood up to her big brother again, for him - this
time letting her feelings be known not only in front of Bill but
Skinner as well.  Mulder's heart had been so bursting with love for
her that even her stern admonishment to figure out a way to deal with
her brother's attitude... well, it just glossed over him lightly.  

His Scully... she loved him.  Publicly she'd said it, and he'd read
the words in her eyes, too.  And in spite of the rockiest, most
unsure future he'd ever experienced, Mulder felt like the luckiest
guy in the world.

He sat in the open doorway of the big Ford and watched her walk
across the parking lot toward him, hands laden with plastic bags of
what Skinner the ex-Marine had disparagingly referred to as 'pogey-
bait'.  He'd wandered off toward a nearby Burger King with orders of
hamburgers and fries - "real food", as he'd so subtly put it, for him
and for Bill, who was now standing next to the gas pump topping the
tank off.  Replacing the hose, Bill glanced up just in time to see
the naked love on his sister's face as she drew nearer to the vehicle
and saw Mulder gazing at her; swinging that glance to Mulder he
couldn't help but see the look returned a hundred-fold.  He cleared
his throat gruffly and Mulder tore his eyes from Scully with
reluctance and faced her brother.

"Mulder, tell me the truth.  How much danger are we really in?" 
Bill's voice was low and calm, but Mulder could hear the worry
beneath the surface.  Bill was trying to be strong but Mulder knew he
had to be going out of his mind where Tara and the kids were
concerned.  It had taken all his will to get in the car and leave
them behind when they left Norfolk.  Bill deserved to know the
unsugared, unvarnished truth, Mulder decided, as he turned to face
the big tough Naval officer.

"A lot of danger, Bill -  I won't lie to you and I refuse to candy-
coat it.  Within three weeks there will be a massive widespread
outbreak of bees and the beginning of a planned Armageddon of the
human race.  Each bee is carrying a lethal virus, for which the
modern world has no defense and no likely cure.  At one time there
was a very weak vaccine against the virus.  I don't know if that
vaccine is still available."  Mulder eyed Bill Scully, wondering how
much stark honesty the man could handle... figuring he may as well go
for it.  As Scully stopped in the middle of the parking lot to wait
for Skinner who also had his hands full of food, Mulder spoke rapidly.

"Your sister and I have both been exposed to the virus.  Scully was
infected much worse than I and the vaccine was administered to her,
with obvious success.  At this point we're not sure but we think
we're both immune.   The bees that carry the virus are Africanized
honeybees, which means they will sting without much provocation.  One
sting is all it takes, Bill - just one.  And I figure you will have
trouble swallowing any and all of this truth until you see it for
yourself... and although I know we'll be witness to it sooner or
later I really hope you'll be spared the sight of what the virus does
to a human being."  

There wasn't time to say much more; Scully and Skinner were now
walking to the car.  Bill nodded, once; murmured, "It's a lot to
accept, Mulder... a lot.  But I appreciate your honesty.  As for what
I can swallow - well, we'll have to see."  Mulder nodded and opened
the doors, helping Scully maneuver the bags and herself into the high-
sitting vehicle.  She eyed both men suspiciously as she fastened her
seatbelt and accepted a bottled water from Mulder.

"What have you guys been discussing?"  Bill shrugged and climbed in
beside her, his bland gaze meeting Mulder's equally non-committal
expression.  Skinner stopped fastening his belt and stared at all
three of them. Mulder calmly got into the driver's seat and started
the Excursion, replying in typical Mulder monotone.

"This and that, Scully - mostly that.  A lot of that, actually..."
Bill grunted in affirmation.  Scully's narrowed gaze took in the look
that passed between her men, and her voice held an ominous ring as
she ripped the cap off her water bottle.

"Bill, you better not have been fighting again -"  Her brother's
aggrieved sigh filled the confines of the Ford.

"Jeez!  I get blamed for everything..."

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

The miles wore on, through the north-central section of South
Carolina.  They stayed on the Interstate most of the way and made
decent enough gas mileage not to need another pit stop.  Skinner and
Bill dozed some of the way; Scully managed to stay awake and spent a
great deal of time staring out the window occasionally leaning
forward and stroking gentle fingers over Mulder's neck as he sat in
the driver's seat and kept a steady sixty-five MPH.  They didn't
speak much, each immersed in their own thoughts.  Mulder knew Scully
was very worried, although she was outwardly calm.  He knew all the
signs: subtle lip-chewing, light drumming of her tapered fingertips
on the armrest between her and Bill, an occasional sigh.  She hid it
well but it was hard to get the mind to stop grinding out possible
scenarios and other associated shit. Mulder had tried his best, to no
avail.  

He didn't have any family left to cause him to worry.  In itself a
sobering thought, nevertheless it was a relief and a pity all rolled
into one.  Maybe that was why becoming close to Scully's family had
become so vital to him... it was really all he had left besides
Skinner and the guys.  If they were to make it up north, really make
it - they would have to evolve into a new family, of sorts.  And they
would have to welcome and enfold into their tight sphere anyone else
who needed a haven; needed hope.

About fifteen miles from Myrtle Beach Mulder pulled into a rest stop
and consulted the map that Bill had drawn, of the directions to
Charlie's place.  On the outskirts of the city proper, it looked to
be about a mile from the beach.  1874 De LaCroix, didn't appear to be
that difficult to find.  He opened the door and hopped down, taking a
few minutes to stretch his legs; Bill and Skinner did the same on the
other side of the big Ford, and Scully also grabbed an opportunity to
stretch and snuggle with Mulder for a few minutes.  She leaned
against him, front to front; Mulder wound his arms loosely around her
shoulders and nuzzled her hair.  His voice was a tired vibration
against her temple.

"You okay, Scully?  We're almost there.  Another twelve miles or so.
Do you want to call ahead?"  Scully shook her head and kept her cheek
pressed to Mulder's shoulder.

"It wouldn't do any good; I already tried a few times as we've been
driving along.  Either the phone is off the hook, or they're all
gone... or something's wrong.  I can't shake this feeling of doom,
Mulder.  Something's horribly wrong."  She stared up into his warm
eyes and fought to contain her rising panic.  "The baby is only two
weeks old... in this heat and humidity they wouldn't be spending this
much of time away from the house!  I have such a bad feeling..."  She
buried her face against his neck and Mulder sighed and rocked her in
his arms, feeling the worry and helplessness surging inside of him as
well.  He had to remain calm for her - it wouldn't do to let himself
weaken just when she needed his strength the most.

Around the corner of the Ford Bill had appeared, taking in the sight
of his usually unflappable sister quietly flipping out in her
partner's arms, and the glance he sent Mulder's way was equally
disturbed.  Mulder gave a small shake of his head, mouthing to Bill,
"Take her," and Bill nodded and stepped forward to wrap an arm around
Scully's shoulders as Mulder set her away from him with a whispered,
"Please don't worry, Scully..."  Bill could see her spine stiffen and
her features even out into a bland mask - before she attempted a
smile for Mulder and let her brother pull her over to the car.

Mulder sighed heavily and got back into the driver's seat; as he
started the engine his eyes met Skinner's, and both men nodded.  This
was it - and they could only hope that when they reached Charlie
Scully's house everything would be fine.  They'd be out back, maybe
having a picnic or a cook-out... the baby would be chubby and
hairless and pink and sweet in his little bassinet in the family
room, and Maggie Scully would be rocking him gently... Charlie and
Jeannie would have the two girls on a swing-set in the back yard and
the high sweet giggle of their little-girl voices would be a wonder
to hear... the air would be thick with the good smells of charring
beef.  Mulder could almost smile at the mental image he fed himself,
as the big Ford scarfed up the remaining ten miles to De LaCroix
Street.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the circular driveway of a
modest Cape Cod-style saltbox, with neatly trimmed foxbriar hedges
and two large magnolias dripping with blooms decorating the front
lawn.  The doors were closed and the window blinds drawn - and as
Mulder climbed down and went around the side to open Scully's door,
he noticed the dead quiet.  No humming of the centralized air
conditioner that sat on the roof of the house... and it was at least
ninety sweltering degrees outside and the humidity had to be eighty
or more per cent... 

Shit.  This was not good.  Even if they were not home the air
conditioner would be running.  Nobody in their right minds would turn
off centralized air in the heat of the summer, not in the South.

In their right minds...  oh, fuck!

He left Scully at the car and strode up to the front door,
surreptitiously pulling at his Sig; on the other side of him, Skinner
was doing the same... and behind him he could hear Scully's angry
voice, directed at her brother who no doubt had a restraining grip on
her arm: "Bill, let GO!  I have to go in there...!"  Vaguely Mulder
registered Bill's answering, "No, Dana... let them go in first..."

Then Mulder was jiggling the door, which was locked... he was
stepping aside to let Skinner work the lock with one of his picks...
the door was creaking open... it was dim and shadowed in the small
foyer... no sounds at all, anywhere... they took a cautious step into
the house...

And Mulder smelled it first.  And his eyes grew big with mingled
fright and awareness, as he whipped his head around to stare at
Skinner, whose eyes mirrored the same expression... and they
proceeded very cautiously, both fighting to keep down their rising
gorge, at the smell of it; the metallic smell of blood...  Mulder
sent one low command to Bill Scully, standing in the front yard
holding his frightened sister in his trembling arms.

"Bill, Scully... please... stay back, okay?  Don't come in here..."

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

Mulder's low-voiced plea jolted through Bill causing him to loosen
his grip on Scully long enough for her to break free. "Dana!" he
cried out as she sprinted into the house.  Mulder spun around and
caught her in his arms.  "Please, Scully," he begged.  "Don't go in
there."

She fought wildly to escape his restraining arms. Skinner held Bill
back from barreling ahead and watched as Scully slapped, kicked and
screamed at Mulder, pleading with him to let her go.  Finally, she
sagged in his grip.  Pushing sweat-soaked hair out of her face, she
looked up at her partner. Her eyes were drenched with pain.  
"Please," she begged.  "Mulder, please.  You can't protect me from
this.  I need to see."

Mulder nodded reluctantly and Scully gratefully accepted the
supporting arm he wrapped firmly around her waist.  Skinner fell into
step beside Bill as the foursome made their way further into the
house.  Rounding the corner of the living room, Scully's knees
buckled and a low moan escaped her.  "Oh no.  Oh, Jeannie," she
whispered as she knelt down beside her fallen sister-in-law.  Jeannie
Scully was lying face down on the hardwood floor and Scully reached
out to grasp her shoulder and pull her onto her back.  Her hand flew
up to cover her mouth.  "Dear God, no," she sobbed.  Wrapped in her
mother's arms was two-year-old Katie.  The little girl's eyes were
closed and if it hadn't been for the fact that her silky blonde hair,
so like her mother's, was matted with blood, one would almost believe
she was sleeping.  Scully reached out with trembling fingers,
searching in vain for a pulse.  Shaking her head, she buried her face
against Mulder's shoulder.  

A low cry from across the room drew their attention to where Bill
was standing.  Bending down, he lifted four-year-old Rachel from the
sofa cushions.  A small arm dangled lifelessly as Bill clutched the
child to his chest and her auburn hair streamed over his arm.  His
face was ashen, tears streaking his cheeks; the grief in his eyes was
terrible to behold.

Scully stumbled to her feet.  "Mom?" she called.  "Charlie?  Where
are you?"  Her voice quivered.  "Charlie!"  She pulled away from
Mulder's grasping hands and raced toward the kitchen. "Mom?  Mom,
answer me!"  Her scream bounced off of the kitchen walls and the
others rushed in only a step behind her.  She was kneeling on the
floor next to her mother.  "Mom... please.  Please, don't..." Her
hands fluttered over the blood-soaked cotton of Margaret Scully's
robe.  "Oh God, Mama, please, please don't leave me."  Bill sank to
the floor, wrapped his hands around his mother's bare feet and
lowered his head, his huge shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. 
Scully gathered her mother into her arms and began to rock, keening
sobs tearing through her slender frame.  

Skinner pulled off his glasses and roughly wiped his eyes as he
watched his agent cradle her mother close and beg her not to go. 
Mulder sank down to his knees on the other side of Margaret's body
and wrapped his arms around both women.  Scully lifted her head to
his shoulder, trembling violently in mingled shock and agonizing
grief. "Oh God, Mulder.  Oh, Mulder.  I don't... I can't take this, I
just can't.. my mom, Mulder, she's my... I can't lose her, not now,
oh, God -" She raised her pounding head and for a moment, her eyes
met Mulder's own tear-filled sorrowful gaze.   Suddenly, she gasped
and her eyes widened.  Moving away from Mulder, she gently lowered
her mother's lifeless body to the tiled floor and looked past his
shoulder.  "Charlie," she breathed.

Everyone turned their heads - and collectively gasped.  Seated on
the floor behind the kitchen table, bathed in the rays of the setting
sun was Charlie Scully.  His clothes were spattered with blood.  He
cradled his two-week-old son, Joshua, in one arm and in the other
hand, he held a gun.  Shakily, Scully crawled on her hands and knees
to him, fresh tears pouring from her eyes.  "Charlie?  Charlie, it's
Dana," she said in a trembling voice.  "Charlie, are you all right? 
Is the baby okay?"

Charlie lifted the hand with the gun and Mulder lunged forward to
drag Scully back but she fought him off.  Bill hunched down next to
Mulder and Scully.  "Charlie," he said holding out his hand to his
younger brother.  "We just want to see if you're okay."  He kept his
voice soft.  "Why don't you put down the gun and come out from behind
there?"  

Charlie raised his head at the sound of his brother's voice and a
shaft of sunlight fell across his face.  Bill recoiled at the sight
of the black film moving over his eyes and Scully moaned, pressing
back into Mulder's chest.  "Oh, no," she breathed.  Mulder held her
in a protective curve of his body, wishing for far more than just
skin and muscle to protect her from the unimaginable evil that had
torn her family to shreds.  

Bill turned to look at her.  "Dana, what is that?" he asked
fearfully.  Her breath was coming in harsh pants and she shook her
head.  "No, no." she whispered.  "Not this, please God... not this, I
can't bear it..."

Mulder leaned down to Bill's ear.  "It's the virus, Bill," he said
softly.  "Charlie's been infected."  He wanted to drag them both out
of the house but they were each frozen in place.  The very horror he
had prayed they would both be spared... and here it was, in a pretty
saltbox house sitting under the late summer sun, sweet magnolias in
the front yard... unspeakable.  A waking nightmare - and they were
all sharing in it.  

Bill stared at Mulder in mounting horror, then at his brother.  "Are
you telling me that Charlie... that Charlie did this?  That he
killed... no!  I can't... Jesus Lord, I can't -" His voice broke on a
disbelieving sob.

Charlie lifted the gun.  "No! Charlie, don't!" Scully shrieked.  He
tightened his finger around the trigger, squeezing.  Click. Click.
Click. With each pull of the trigger, her body jerked in Mulder's
arms.   At the last click her body slumped against him and she sobbed
anew. Mulder cradled her and murmured to her in broken hoarse
whispers.

Charlie turned to face his siblings.  The black film swirled eerily,
and then suddenly he stared at them through clear blue eyes.  "It's
empty," he whispered hollowly.  Scully nodded and as Bill leaned
forward, Charlie scuttled back against the wall.  "Stay back," he
pleaded.  Bill aborted his forward movement but held out his hand. 
"Please, Charlie. Let us help you."

Charlie shook his head and turned his attention back to his sister. 
"Dana." His voice was pleading.  Scully shuddered in pain; she
knew... somehow knew what was coming.  But Bill, oh God, Bill... he
still didn't have a clue.  There was no way she could spare him.  No
way she could spare herself.

Bill lifted his hands soothingly and carefully leaned forward again.
"Charlie, give me the baby.  Let Dana see if he's okay."

Charlie trembled violently and lowered his lips to the baby's
forehead.  "He's dead."  His eyes were devastated when he looked back
up.  "I killed him." His voice broke.  "God forgive me, I killed them
all."

Bill swiped his hand over his eyes. He could not fathom this; it was
beyond him.  The big tough Navy officer crumbled in the face of
something too monstrous for him to assimilate.  "Charlie... why?"

Their younger brother swallowed hard and looked down at his son. 
Tears spilled from his eyes and fell on the child's sweet infant
cheeks.  Placing the baby gently on the floor, he carefully wrapped
the blood soaked receiving blanket around the still body.  "Dana
understands.  Don't you?"  She nodded, tears slipping from her own
pale cheeks.  "Dana, please.  You have to help me."  He stared into
her eyes and she nodded again and slowly stood.  Her little brother
needed her help.  She'd always helped Charlie when he needed her;
today was no different.  

Mulder scrambled to his feet beside her and Bill watched in stunned
disbelief as she pulled her gun from where it was tucked against the
small of her back.  She scrubbed her hand over her cheeks and then
wiped her wet fingers against her shorts.  She was crying steadily,
thick tears wetting her shirt and running into the corners of her
open, sobbing mouth.

"No!"  Bill leapt up and tried to wrestle the gun out of her hands. 
Skinner moved forward and wrapped an arm around Bill, forcing him to
step back.  Bill strained against Skinner's hard grip; it was all
Skinner could to do hold onto the big, distraught man.  "Don't! 
Dana, don't do it.  For God's sake Dana, its Charlie... it's
Charlie," Bill sobbed.

Scully looked down at the bloodstained figure at her feet and for a
moment, she saw not a killer or a monster, but her baby brother.  She
remembered the day her parents had brought him home from the
hospital.  She had thought he was her own living doll and had fallen
in love with him from the first moment she had laid eyes on him. 
She'd learned how to feed him a bottle and change his diapers...
learned how to love a child unconditionally, when she received her
Charlie into her little-girl arms.  He had always been hers, more
than Missy's, more than Bill's.  Sometimes more than even their
parents.  She understood him and he likewise had always known her
heart.  God, Charlie... her little brother... and here she stood with
a gun cocked and pointed at his head.  Her hands shook; she couldn't
do this!  She closed her eyes and begged the Heavens above for enough
strength to pull the trigger...

When she looked down again through swimming tears there were those
blue eyes, so like her own; they pleaded with her and she raised the
gun, sighting along the barrel just as she had been trained.

"No," Bill moaned again.  "Dana, please.  It's Charlie."  Skinner
raised a shaky hand and tried to push Bill's face into his broad
shoulder, to shield him from the sight, but Bill wouldn't let him.

Scully raised her gaze to her older brother.  Saw the frozen shock
in those blue Scully eyes.  He didn't know... couldn't know.  Her
poor brother...  "No," she said softly.  "Billy, it's not him.  Not
Charlie... not anymore."  Bill dropped his gaze to Charlie's bloody
face and shuddered as the black film swirling over them once again
obscured the blue of his little brother's eyes.  He nodded once and
turned his face away, allowing Skinner to hold his head securely
against his shoulder.  He clutched at the other man's arms and sobbed
like a child.  Skinner held him tightly and his low broken words of
comfort swirled over him as he cried.

Scully swiped her arm over her streaming eyes and lifted her weapon
again.  She felt Mulder's hand settle on the small of her back, the
warmth of it lending her the needed fortitude - and she straightened
her stance, bracing her body for the recoil of the shot.  "I love
you, Charlie," she whispered as she squeezed the trigger.

The acrid smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air, mixing with the
still-present odor of too much blood - and Scully collapsed into
Mulder's waiting arms.  She clung to him for seconds... minutes...
hours, it seemed.  Mulder could not imagine the sort of strength of
it had taken for Scully to do as her baby brother asked - and he
hoped to God he'd never be asked to perform such a deed for anyone he
loved.  Finally, Scully pulled free of his embrace and turned to
Bill, gently removing him from Skinner's arms.  Gathering her older
brother close, she rocked him as they both sobbed.  "I'm sorry, Bill.
I'm so, so sorry."  Bill shook his head and buried his face in her
hair.  Both of them inconsolable, the loss they had suffered here
today was not to be imagined.  

Mulder well knew that sort of loss.  He'd experienced it all: the
loss of a sibling, torn from him when he was still too young to
understand the future of his world; had held a father who bled to
death in his arms, killed by a walking scourge of humanity - had not
been there to comfort and perhaps prevent the voluntary suicide of
his mother.  He'd lost them all and the pain of it bit at him every
day of his life.  The only cushion he'd ever had against that much
hurt, had been Scully.

He hated it that she'd had to be exposed to this.  After all she'd
suffered, over the years - to be subjected to this inconceivable
situation.  It was intolerable; he wanted to maim and mutilate those
who'd brought their world to this.  His hands clenched and unclenched
as he fought to get his murderous rage under control.  

Skinner, understanding and worried about what he knew had to be
brewing under Mulder's surface, caught his attention and drew him
away from the grieving siblings.  "Mulder, something's not right."  

Mulder looked at the carnage surrounding them and laughed harshly,
dashing hot tears from his face.  He hadn't even felt them as they'd
been shed, he was that numb.  "Yeah, you could say that," he said
bitterly.

Skinner shook his head.  "No, this neighborhood.  Didn't you notice?
There's no sign of life anywhere."  He peered out of the kitchen
window.  "Every house that I can see is shuttered up tight."  Mulder
moved next to his boss and pulled back the curtain, his eyes
searching the street for movement. 

"Oh... oh God.  You're right.  This entire neighborhood could be
infected."  He peered out of the window into the lengthening shadows
as the sun sank beyond the horizon, looking for bees - not really
seeing much of anything, even flies.  South Carolina was a buggy
place, but he recalled that bees liked the shade most of the time. 
They might not be in plain view but he'd be willing to bet there
would be plenty of them keeping cool in the trees and bushes. 

Skinner nodded, also noticing a viable lack of insect movement and
attributing it to the stifling heat.  "If we're right, it won't be
long before other people find out," he said warningly.

Mulder shrugged wearily, feeling an ache in every muscle of his
body.  "They're probably already on their way.  We've gotta get out
of here."  He looked over Skinner's shoulder to see Bill pull away
from Scully and move toward Charlie's still body. 

"No! Bill, don't!" Scully called out in a panic, grasping her
brother's arm in her hands and pulling him back.

He turned to her in disbelief.  "Dana, let go.  I want to..." he
gestured toward their brother.

Scully slipped in front of him and placed both hands on his chest. 
"You can't touch him, Bill," she said sadly.  "You could become
infected too."  Bill looked closely at his brother and for the first
time saw the black oil... seeping from his nose, ears and eyes,
dripping onto the tile floor.  He gagged and turned away.

Mulder moved forward.  "We need to leave NOW," he stressed.  He
stood next to Scully and grasped her arm to help pull her to her feet.

Scully lifted bruised eyes to his.  "Do we have time to bury them?"
she asked in a small voice.  "They should be buried, together.  They
need to be together, Mulder..."  She choked back another sob.

Mulder raised his hand and brushed it over her cheek.  He shook his
head.  "Skinner and I think we're in danger staying here any longer,"
he told her.  "I'm sorry, sweetheart."  He leaned into her and his
warm lips pressed into her temple as he held her close and tried to
warm her cold skin.

A tear tracked down her cheek and she nodded.  Turning back toward
her mother, she dropped down onto her knees and slipped her hand into
the pocket of Margaret Scully's robe, pulling out the tiny silver
rosary that she had always carried.  Clutching the beads in her fist,
she prayed in a soft voice.  "Eternal rest grant unto them, oh Lord
and let perpetual light shine upon them.  May their souls and the
souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in
peace."  

"Amen," Skinner whispered hoarsely as he watched her bend low and
press her lips to her mother's forehead before she straightened and
moved back into the comfort of Mulder's embrace.  Skinner wrapped an
arm around Bill's shoulders and guided him toward the door.  Bill
shuffled along like an old man, head down and sobs still shaking his
big frame. Scully leaned on Mulder and as he opened the car door, she
lifted her face to the heavens.  Her eyes fixed on the first star as
it appeared in the twilit sky, her lips moving soundlessly as she
clutched her mother's rosary.  Skinner had settled Bill into the
front passenger seat and Mulder climbed into the back.  Scully turned
as he called her name softly.  She took his hand and he pulled her
into the car and onto his lap.  She leaned her head against him like
a weary child.  Mulder cradled her cheek in one hand and looked back
at the little cul de sac.  

It was a pretty place. Once upon a time he'd imagined himself
finding a place like this, a little house in a nice neighborhood with
nice neighbors and kids and dogs and garden hoses in the front yards
of houses just a hop, skip and jump from the local elementary school.
It really was the American Dream... in this case, gone horribly
wrong.  Once, this was what he had wanted out of life.  But it took
those years on the X-Files to make him realize that this particular
American Dream would never be his to claim.  He sighed and rested his
cheek against Scully's bright hair and sent another round of thanks
Heavenward that she was safe - and a prayer for those beloved family
members they'd lost today.

Skinner pushed the door closed behind her and settled into the
driver's seat.  As they drove away, Scully watched the house grow
steadily smaller through the rear window.  And as they left the
neighborhood and merged with other traffic, they could hear the wail
of sirens and the beating of helicopter blades in the distance.

They were safe - for now.

**********


~ Chapter Nine ~

It should have taken them almost eight hours to get back to Norfolk
and Tara and the kids.  The urgency to make it back, knowing the
threat of swarming bees would be ever-present and uppermost in their
minds - all of them now beside themselves with worry for Bill's
family - kept them from stopping for food or bathroom facilities. 
Not that anyone was hungry - they weren't.  If they hadn't needed
gasoline they would not have stopped at all.  But they couldn't risk
running out of gas.  Every minute was now vital to them... every
second it took to get back to Tara was a second carved from their
future.  Without words they had all decreed that their days were
numbered.    And with that decree came acceptance, as well as a
determination that regardless of the length of that future they were
now, for all intents and purposes - a family.

When Skinner stopped for gas, by mutual agreement he left the engine
running and stepped out of the Ford only long enough to get the
nozzle placed and gas flowing.  Scully had fallen asleep in
exhaustion and lay in Mulder's lap like a little girl.  He stroked
his fingers soothingly through her hair and pressed a light kiss to
her forehead.  His baby, now more than ever... his to protect and
care for; his to love.  

Above her nestled head Mulder's eyes locked with Bill; face so tired
and stained with more tears than he'd ever had to shed in his life. 
Eyes rimmed with the same exhaustion they all felt and a frown
settling between his thick brows.  He opened his mouth twice but
nothing came out.  Mulder quirked a brow of his own and waited
patiently.  

Finally, Bill cleared his throat and his rusty voice broke over the
silence in the confines of the car.  "Mulder... I'm sorry - sorry I
didn't believe you... Jesus I've seen it with my own eyes now and I
still can't..." He shook his head, shoulders hunched.  Mulder nodded
and placed a reassuring hand on the strong arm resting along the back
of the front seat.

"I know... I know.  You've got nothing to apologize over; this whole
thing is like the worst sort of nightmare.  I think you can better
appreciate the place your sister and I have been forced to live,
though - the world as we have known it.  It's the sort of place you
can never imagine exists, and when you get to see a small glimpse of
it the rational being inside of you is in instant denial."  He sighed
heavily and shifted Scully's warm weight in his arms, smiling a
little when she muttered his name and burrowed her mouth into his
neck.  Bill watched the little interplay and the ghost of a grin
flickered over his face.

"I can see how much you love Dana.  I think I'm glad."  At the
almost comical widening of Mulder's eyes at the admission, Bill
actually chuckled a little.  "Yeah, I know - go figure.  I have
wasted a lot of years purposely estranging myself from my sister and
cursing the ground you walked on, Mulder - because it was easier to
blame you for everything than take the responsibility of trying to
learn what you were fighting for.  But if today has given me anything
worthwhile, it's let me see the value of time and the preciousness of
life. I have no intention of wasting it, ever again."  He slowly put
out a hand and Mulder met him halfway, clasping Bill's fingers hard. 
They sat there for a few moments like that, each of them finding
leftover unanswered questions within a set of blue and a pair of
hazel eyes - and coming to an agreement.

In that moment they got very close to becoming friends... and both
men jumped a little when Scully's sleepy voice broke over their stiff
but sincere male bonding moment.

"God, I love you both..."

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

Once again the Excursion was eating up the miles.  They had been on
the road for nearly three hours and had just passed the turn-off for
Smithfield, when Bill noticed the snarl of traffic ahead in the
distance.  He sat up and stretched his neck to get a better look as
they were forced to slow down, but couldn't see the hang-up.  In the
deepening twilight it was difficult to see much of anything.  Skinner
rolled down his window and stuck out his head as he reduced speed. 
He sighed and cursed under his breath as he came to a full stop
behind a dusty Lincoln Continental.  To his left a Peterbuilt and
behind him a mini-van; they were neatly blocked in on three sides. 
Mulder twisted about in his seat looking for the source of the jam;
Scully gulped tepid bottled water and looked worried.  Skinner rolled
up the window, then met Mulder's eyes in the mirror and shrugged.

"Hard to tell from here - maybe more than one car.  Definitely an
accident of some sort."  From their vantage they could see the
flashing lights of several police cars and ambulances.  They kept the
motor running and the air on; it was still hot and sticky outside. 
Scully passed the bottle to Mulder and her soft voice was concerned.

"I don't like this.  We can't afford to sit here very long... we
could run out of gas."  Bill nodded and glanced over at Skinner who
was leaning against the window.  Skinner looked down at the gauge and
was relieved to see the tank level at more than two-thirds full.  He
smiled reassuringly at Scully.

"We'll be all right, Scully - we have plenty of gas."

Three hours later they had not moved one inch.

It had become obvious that they were about a half-mile from a
massive pile-up of cars.  From where they sat there was a bit of a
curve in the road, enough to see ahead and make out the edges of the
pile-up which in the dark looked like a large twisted lump.  At first
they'd talked quietly amongst themselves, carefully avoiding the
horrible events of the day and opting instead to begin outlining and
planning their immediate future.  They had decided not to go back to
DC on the off chance that their original pursuers would still be
searching for them; had figured Bethesda might be a good bet.  

It was decided they would contact the Gunmen as soon as they could
and ask them to go with them.  Privately, Mulder doubted the guys
would want to come along - he had a feeling they would want to stay
and monitor the events of colonization.  It would be just like them
to want to try breaking down this conspiracy; they seemed to thrive
on that sort of thing.

After the third hour Skinner looked worriedly at the gauge.  If they
did not start moving soon they would have to stop again for gas. 
Bill was visibly panicked, beside himself with worry over Tara and
the kids.  Scully had not been able to pick up a strong enough signal
to call her and see how she was doing.  She tried for the fourth
time, checking the signal even though she knew it wasn't there. It
kept her busy, more or less.  She didn't want to get out and walk
around.  Even though her legs were cramped, the interior of the Ford
was blessedly cool.  Standing around in the night heat was not
appealing - and over the course of the jam she had noticed that very
few people had actually left their vehicles, choosing to leave their
motors running and wait in comparative comfort.

Ten minutes later Bill was fed up. Not the most patient man by
nature, he was ready to jump out of the car and run the half-mile up
to the first cop he could find, and shake some urgency into him.  He
muttered, "I'm gonna see what's taking so long..." But as he put out
his hand to grasp the door handle Mulder, who had been staring
intently out the side window, stopped him with an urgent hand to his
arm.

"Bill, no!  Don't open the door, or the windows!  Look over there!" 
The others turned to see where Mulder was pointing; Scully cried out
in despair and Skinner swore a blue streak... and Bill sat as if
turned to stone and groaned.

For not ten yards from their vehicle, a woman had stepped from her
little VW Beetle, probably just needing to stretch her legs.  Maybe
she had decided to finally give in and brave the heat to save her
aching joints.  In the dark, several other figures moved around
outside their cars and trucks... but as the woman closest to them
shut her door and turned to look in the direction of the pile-up, she
suddenly jumped violently, clutched her leg, and fell to the ground,
convulsing.  Three seconds later a man walking by her open car door
stopped to see what was wrong with her, and as he bent down, he
suddenly slapped at his face - and his entire body stiffened as he
swayed on his feet and then toppled over beside her.  

"Shit!  Goddamn it to Hell!"  Skinner hit the over-lock button and
all the door locks engaged; he hurriedly twisted the air flow control
to 'interior circulation' and whipped around in his seat to face
Mulder and Scully, who turned from the window and stared back,
shocked and frightened.

Under his breath, Bill was muttering, "Jesus... where the hell did
they come from?"  For suddenly, there were bees, everywhere - even in
the dark they could see them, outlined by the headlights of so many
cars.  Judging by the faint screams they could hear from the interior
of their car, enough people had been standing out in the night air to
afford the bees quite a healthy sting-fest.  Scully buried her face
in her hands and turned into Mulder's shoulder; he wrapped his arms
tightly around her and his voice was low and hoarse as he spoke.

"We've got to find a way to get out of here.  If they're swarming at
night they'll swarm any old time.  They may have become attracted to
all these headlights or they may just be flying around in a daze
because they've been uprooted and their hives are gone.  It doesn't
matter.  They're just aggressive enough to sting anything that moves -
and I can guarantee the virus is very fast-acting."

As if to prove his very words, a man staggered by the back windows
on Scully's side; as she looked up and out the window, horrified...
he tried to grab onto the door handle and open it.  In the strange
half-illumination outside, his face was a study in abject horror and
fright: mouth gasping open, eyes black with oil and wriggling streams
of it underneath the dead-white skin of his face.  Scully screamed
and jumped back into Mulder's arms, shaking with revulsion. "Sweet
Jesus, no," she moaned. "Not again."  Mulder soothed trembling hands
over her back and tried to calm her down.  Bill shut his eyes from
the gruesome sight outside their windows, and fought down his own
mounting panic.  He turned to Skinner.

"Mulder's right - there has to be a way for us to get out of here -
even if it means driving on the side of the embankment.  I have to
get home - now - God only knows what's happening back there!"  

Skinner nodded grimly, and revved the engine to assure the gas gauge
was correct.  They had a little more than half a tank.  They would
have to get more gas; they had no choice.  Skinner was angry at
himself for hanging out here so long, assuming it was just another
pile-up on the highway and the police working the accident would move
it along quickly.  It was now apparent to him what had happened.  

"I'll bet somebody was driving along with their window open and a
bee got in somehow and stung them.  Something like that could cause a
chain reaction of crashes - and more than one person could have
become stung.  You can bet your ass that after three hours somebody
would call a high enough authority to get FEMA in here; they've been
busy little assholes lately.  We're getting the fuck out of here." 
He popped the emergency brake, revved once and turned the wheel a
hard right - then mashed down the accelerator and effectively pushed
aside the big Lincoln in front if him as if it were an ant.  The
driver inside the luxurious car never moved an inch.  Scully's voice
was hushed in the silent cab.

"Dead.  They're probably all dead... God..."  Mulder shushed her and
she pressed her head back into the curve of his neck, not wanting to
see any more.  She had seen enough death today.

Working his way as carefully as possible, Skinner managed to push
the Lincoln enough to get around it - and found himself with a very
narrow strip of median; barely enough to squeeze by.  There were
water barrels stretching along the edge of the median; these could
really tear up a car and they couldn't afford to damage the
Excursion.  Maneuvering carefully and slowly, they eased forward,
only scraping the barrels once.  

Bill watched the road ahead, suddenly calling out to Skinner in
excitement, "Up ahead about a hundred yards!  I see an exit; looks as
if it's been blocked off... what do you think?  Could it be safe
enough to try?"  

Skinner ground his teeth in determination as he roared ahead, an
open free area allowing him to gain speed.  "It's gonna have to be
safe enough; we don't have a choice."  And there ahead of them was
indeed an exit; a temporary block placed in front of it and small red
lights flashing intermittently.  The sort of block road workers would
put up for the night if they intended to continue work in the morning
- and it was just lightweight enough for Skinner to ram without
causing any major damage.

And ram it he did - going full-speed, the passengers in the
Excursion bracing themselves, he charged forward and hit it hard. 
The block snapped in two and the impact threw everyone forward but
Skinner held onto the steering wheel and they flew through the jagged
remains of the block and roared down the unfinished, bumpy exit. 
About fifty yards from the end of the exit the bumps and potholes
turned into broken pavement and large upturned stones; the Excursion
bounced over it easily.  Another five teeth-clattering minutes later
they found themselves dumped onto a small access road. It was narrow
and ridged with cracked blacktop but it was a viable road.  Skinner
floored it and they got the hell out of there.  And inside the cab,
four people drew a collective deep breath of relief, and settled back
in their seats...

Safe again.

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

They drove for at least thirty minutes, unsure of which direction
they were heading, but desperate to put some miles between themselves
and the pandemonium they had left behind.  As their heart rates
slowed, they began to think more clearly.  Skinner directed Bill to
pull a map out of the glove compartment and they began searching for
road markers.  Finally figuring out where they were, they plotted out
the quickest route back to Norfolk.  Bill looked at the illuminated
dial of his watch and sighed heavily.  Their second escape of the day
had tacked another hour onto the trip.

Scully had curled her legs up onto the seat and was leaning against
the window.  She knew Mulder was worried about her; she could feel
his concerned gaze resting heavily on her.  His warm hand was wrapped
around one of her ankles, his thumb sweeping in soothing strokes over
her skin.  Scully stared dully out of the window but instead of the
passing scenery, she could only see the carnage and horror they had
left behind in South Carolina.  

She remembered that the last time she had seen Charlie had been less
than six months earlier.  He had been in D.C. on business and had
taken her and their mother out to dinner.  They had spent the evening
catching up each other's lives and he had proudly pulled an envelope
of pictures out of his briefcase.  Scully had smiled over pictures of
her nieces excitedly tearing into their Christmas gifts or grinning
into the camera as they splashed in the tiny wading pool he had set
up in the yard.  Another photo was of a radiant Jeannie, her hand
smoothing the fabric of her maternity blouse, proudly displaying her
swollen belly for the camera.  

She remembered thinking as she had flipped through the photos, that
she shouldn't let so much time go by; that she should make time for
family.  She remembered hugging Charlie goodbye and promising to come
down for a visit when the baby was born. She remembered squealing as
his hands had slipped inside her jacket, tickling her just like he
had done when they were children.  She remembered all of that, but
what she saw in her mind's eye was her beautiful nieces and their
lives cut tragically short.  She saw Jeannie curled protectively
around Katie's tiny body and she wondered at the fear and confusion
her sister-in-law must have felt as she tried to shield her daughter
from her husband.  She saw her mother lying in a pool of blood on the
kitchen floor, fragile and vulnerable in her robe and bare feet.  She
saw her nephew, whom she had never had a chance to hold, his life
snuffed out before it had even started and she saw her little
brother, dead by her own hand. Her eyes burned and her throat ached
as she wondered when this nightmare would be over; knowing that it
had only just begun.

She was startled from her despondent thoughts as Skinner pulled off
of the highway and into a well-lit rest area.  She straightened in
her seat, her whole body pulled taut as he drove the Excursion up to
the gas pumps.  Mulder let go of her ankle and reached for the door
and Scully burst into motion.  Her hands latched onto his arm.  "No!"
she cried as she tightened her grip on him.  "Mulder, no!  Don't go
out there!"  Her eyes were panicked as she looked wildly around the
rest area.  "It's not safe."  

Skinner and Bill turned as Mulder eased across the back seat to pull
her into his arms.  She was shivering and he wondered if she had
finally reached her breaking point.  "Shh," he soothed, rocking her
gently in his arms.  She clung to him as she fought to bring herself
back under control.  Mulder ducked his head so that his eyes were
level with hers.  "We're just going to fill up the tank and then
we're going to drive right up to the front doors of the rest
station."  She started to shake her head again.  "Scully," he said
softly.  "We're only going to stop long enough to use the bathrooms.
We've been on the road for hours and we still have a long trip ahead
of us."

Blowing out a quivering breath, she sat back. "Okay," she whispered.
"I'm okay."  She smiled shakily at the two men who were watching her
worriedly from the front seat.  "I'm all right," she reassured them.
"Let's just make this quick."  She nodded at Mulder and he hopped out
of the Excursion, quickly unscrewing the gas cap and stuffing the
nozzle of the gas pump into the tank.  She watched the electronic
numbers on the pump scroll past at a torturously slow pace before the
pump clicked off when the tank was full.  Skinner offered to let the
others go into the rest area first, while he waited with the engine
running.  Scully blinked as they entered the harshly lit building and
Mulder pointed in the direction of the ladies room.  "I'll meet you
out here," he said, nodding toward a vending machine.  She agreed and
disappeared into the ladies room.  When she was finished, she washed
her hands and splashed cold water on her face.  She hurried out of
the bathroom and saw Mulder leaning against the vending machine. 
"Where's Bill?" she asked.  

Mulder inclined his head toward the door.  "He's back in the truck,"
he explained.  

"Well let's go then," she said.

"We're waiting for Skinner.  He should be out in a minute."  She
nodded and for the first time she noticed the blood staining Mulder's
T-shirt in an odd pattern.  Fresh tears flooded her eyes as she
realized that her own bloody hands had caused the stains as she had
clung to him earlier.  Her eyes darted down to her own clothing and
she could see the blood stains there as well.

"We're lucky this place is almost deserted," she said as she lifted
a trembling finger to touch one of the marks on her shirt.  "If
anyone saw this, they would think we had killed somebody."  Her voice
broke on a choked sob and she leaned against him for support.  She
felt his hands move soothingly over her back and she clutched him
tightly in her arms, breathing in his scent and taking strength from
his strong arms and his whispered 'I love you' in her ear.

When Skinner joined them, she stood up straight and eased away from
Mulder's supporting arms.  She kept his hand gripped tightly in hers
and the three of them hurried toward the waiting truck.  Mulder
pulled open the driver's door.  "Why don't you let me drive for a
while," he suggested to Skinner.  His boss nodded and climbed into
the back seat with Bill.  Scully boosted herself into the passenger
seat and buckled the seat belt as Mulder steered the Ford back onto
the highway.

***********

The sky was pink with the early morning sun as they took the final
exit that would bring them into Norfolk.  Scully was leaning forward
in her seat, as if willing the miles to disappear faster.  From the
corner of her eye, she could see Bill nervously rocking in his seat. 
No one had spoken in the last thirty minutes as they were each lost
in their own thoughts.  And then, finally, they were clearing the
guard shack at the base gate.  Mulder navigated the winding streets
of the naval base as carefully and as quickly as possible and within
minutes they were pulling into the driveway.  Bill took his keychain
from his pocket and used the remote control to open the garage door. 
Mulder pulled the Excursion into the two-car garage.  He cut the
engine and all four doors swung open as they spilled from the
interior of the truck.  

"Tara?" Bill bellowed as he pushed his way into the kitchen from the
garage.  The house was deathly quiet.  Mulder and Skinner checked the
downstairs as Bill and Scully raced up the steps.  The bedrooms were
empty; all of the beds neatly made.  They ran back down the steps and
met up with Mulder and Skinner in the living room. 

"They aren't here," Bill panted, his eyes wide with panic.  Scully
braced a hand on his back and looked around the room, willing Tara
and the children to appear.

"Is there a note?" Mulder asked and Bill ran back into the kitchen
to check the corkboard where Tara always tacked his phone messages. 
There was nothing there.

"Tara!" he howled, as fear crawled with icy fingers up his spine. 
He ran back into the other room.  "Matthew!  Meggie!  It's Daddy. 
Where are you?"  He dropped his head into his hands.  "Oh God," he
said brokenly.  "Where are you?"

Scully was rooted in place in the kitchen. 
"Notagainnotagainnotagain," she chanted under her breath.  There was
a sudden noise behind her and she spun, her hands instinctively
reaching for the gun at the small of her back.  She heard a scraping
sound in the corner and she eased across the room to inspect the
source.  "Bill?  Mulder!  You'd better get in here!"  

The three men hurried into the room and she heard Bill gasp before
he flew over to the corner.  Kneeling, he lifted a metal ring that
was hidden near the wall and pulled a section of the floor up. 
Scully looked at Mulder and Skinner and they realized that this was
the entrance to a cold cellar.  Tara's blonde head appeared at the
top of the steps and Bill lunged forward, pulling her and the
children into view.  He collapsed onto the floor, dragging his family
down with him and smothered them in his arms, pressing frantic kisses
on any part of their bodies he could reach.  The children squirmed
out of his grasp but Tara clung to him tightly.

"Oh God, Bill.  I was so scared," she gasped into his shirt.  Bill
crushed her in his arms and Scully gathered Matty and Meg into her
embrace.

"What happened honey?" Bill asked.  "Why were you hiding in the cold
cellar?"

Tara snuggled into her husband's embrace.  "I was cooking dinner
last night and watching the news.  There was a report about another
attack by a swarm of bees somewhere near Williamsburg.  They said
fifteen people had been rushed to the hospital.  I was just putting
dinner on the table when I looked out of the window and I could see
bees near the flowers.  I panicked.  There were probably no more than
ten or twelve bees - certainly not a swarm.  But I grabbed the kids. 
The only place I could think that we might be safe was in the cold
cellar."  Her face was chagrined as she looked up at the others.  "I
feel silly now, but after what you told us yesterday..."

Scully looked at Bill, Mulder and Skinner.  Everything had appeared
normal as they drove through the base.  People were coming and going
on their way to work; the guard waved them through the gate easily. 
There was nothing to indicate that anything sinister had happened
here.  However, given the events of the last two days, they weren't
going to take any chances.  Bill pulled Tara to her feet and she took
her first good look at them.

"Oh my God!" she cried out as she took in their blood splattered
clothes.   She looked around the room and out of the window. 
"Bill..." she asked slowly.  "Where are your Mom, Charlie and his
family?"  She licked her lips and eyed them nervously.  Her gaze
bounced over Skinner's solemn face to Mulder's pained expression. 
Scully had moved closer to Bill and Tara looked into her grief-
stricken eyes and knew.  "Oh.  Oh no," she whispered looking into her
husband's stark features for confirmation.  "Oh sweet Jesus, no."
Bill pulled his wife back into his arms and buried his face in her
hair.  Tara closed her eyes and wept into his shirt. "How?" she asked.

The children seemed frightened by their parents' display of grief
and they clung to Scully's legs.  She knelt back down and gathered
them into her arms, forcing a smile onto her lips for their benefit.

Mulder cleared his throat and stepped forward.  "I'm sorry," he said
gently.  "Bill.  We need to get going."

Bill lifted his head and fine strands of Tara's hair clung to his
damp cheeks.  Tara wiped her face on his shirt and took a step back,
her hands lingering on her husband's chest.  She peered deeply into
his eyes and he nodded to her, letting her know he was going to be
all right.  Scully stood and held the children's hands in her own.

"Tara," she asked in a low voice.  "Did you pack the things we
talked about yesterday?"

Tara nodded distractedly.  "Yeah... I um... while the kids took
their nap yesterday, I pulled everything out."  

Scully nodded approvingly.  "That's good.  Where is everything?"

Tara waved a hand toward the garage.  "I put the suitcases in the
back of the minivan," she said.

Skinner stepped forward.  "Then let's make this fast.  Bill, Mulder -
why don't you change into clean shirts.  Same goes for you Scully."
The others nodded and hurried upstairs.  Bill pulled two T-shirts out
of a drawer and handed one to Mulder while Tara drew a clean blouse
out of her closet and gave it to her sister-in-law.  Bill tugged the
T-shirt over his head and he and Tara went back downstairs.  A
strange humming noise from outside captured Scully's attention and
she pulled back the curtains to take a look, her heart rising in her
throat.  Bees.  Dozens of them, swarming in a neighbor's yard. 
"Mulder," she called and he came over to the window.  They bolted
from the room.

"We've got to get out of here now," Scully yelled as she flew down
the stairs.

"Dana!  What is it...?" Tara cried out.  Her eyes widened as the
buzzing sound grew louder.  The adults burst into motion.  Bill and
Tara scooped the children up and they all raced into the garage. 
Skinner had found a can of kerosene in the corner of the garage and
he and Mulder were soaking rags in the liquid and stuffing them into
the cracks of the garage door to keep the bees at bay.  Scully yanked
open the rear door of the minivan and hauled out the suitcases that
Tara had packed and quickly stowed them in the back of the Excursion
while Tara tried to unbuckle the children's car seats from the van.

Skinner climbed into the truck and started the engine.  "Come on! 
Hurry," he urged them.  

Mulder pushed Bill toward the Ford and turned to Tara.  "There's no
time Tara.  Leave them!" he shouted.  She nodded and hopped out of
the van.   Bill climbed into the third seat of the truck and helped
his wife in.  Mulder scooped up Megan and swung himself up into the
Excursion, handing the screaming baby to her mother.  Scully was
standing by the side of the truck, ready to hand Matty into Mulder's
waiting arms.  Her terrified eyes were fixed on the garage door and
she watched in horror as one bee wiggled its way through a gap around
the door.

"Oh God," she gasped.  "Here they come."

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


~ Chapter Ten ~

One bee, then another... squirming their little bodies over each
other in their eagerness to come in from the heat.  Not letting a
little kerosene smell deter them from their purpose in life: to sting
the shit out of every human in existence and die as soon as they
succeeded...  

At the moment the humans in existence wanted nothing more
complicated than to bust their way out of a garage that had suddenly
become a bit more crowded than they preferred.   

The first bee managed to worm its way out from underneath its less
aggressive brother, and as soon as it had wing clearance it took
flight.  It had an agenda.  There was a job to do and it was just the
bee to do the job... it flew straight for the open door of the large
Ford Excursion -

Five seconds later the bee bit the dust on the hastily rolled up
side window as the vehicle barreled forward through a garage door
only partially open.  The relatively flimsy door was no match for the
thick protective grate on the front of the Ford - a custom addition
meant to keep the grille from damage in the event of hitting a
massive animal such as deer or moose. 

Or something as large as a garage door.

Inside the cab the passengers and driver heaved a sigh of relief. 
Mulder wiped the sweat from his face and turned around in his seat to
check first on Bill and Tara, who each had a child on their laps,
doing their best to calm the screaming children. He then turned his
attention to where Scully lay sprawled on the floor near his feet. 
He had snatched Matthew out of her hands and pushed him toward his
father, before turning back and grabbing Scully by both hands as she
scrambled into the high-riding truck.  She'd pulled her feet into the
vehicle and Mulder had slammed the door shut behind her, screaming at
Skinner "Go! Go! Go!"  In the driver's seat Skinner wasted no time
maneuvering through the still-quiet neighborhood, on alert for
military police who could stop them for driving above the twenty-five
mile per hour base speed limit.  

They gained the front gate and put the naval base behind them.  It
was just starting to get busy on the streets outside base grounds;
they got through a series of intersection lights without hitting a
single red.  Down the main thoroughfare to the outskirts of town,
they set a course for Bethesda.  

The three-hour drive into Maryland was accomplished in relative
silence, as if each passenger in the Ford Excursion needed to be lost
in his or her own thoughts.  Tara and the children had fallen asleep
almost immediately; they were emotionally drained and had gotten
little sleep huddled together in the cold shelter.  Bill held the
baby in his arms, the child draped across his chest like a tiny
blanket, and Tara lay with her head in his lap and her arms firmly
around Matty who lay spooned alongside her.  Scully had stretched out
on the middle seat and her soft little snore was soothing in the
quiet interior of the big Ford.  In the front seat Mulder stared out
the windshield with dry, reddened eyes and tried not to think too
hard about their immediate future.  Tough to do because it seemed to
be the only thing on his mind...

"We've got to have a plan.  Any ideas?"  Skinner's low rumble broke
into his thoughts, and Mulder rubbed the heels of his hands over his
eyes and yawned hugely.

"Yeah.  We need to go someplace very cold, although I'm sure the
rest of the group will hate me forever for that suggestion.  At least
Scully might - she has despised the snow ever since Antarctica.  But
I don't see a choice here.  I'm thinking Alaska.  The bees can't
survive the Arctic - if I remember correctly the Alaskan Range is
fairly nasty all year long.  They would have to clear the Range to
settle in the northernmost regions of Alaska, and Barrow comes to
mind, since it's beyond the Range.  It's fairly populated but I'm not
sure about access.  It might be fly-in only.  We can travel across
Canada into Alaska.  That'll take us close to Fairbanks, I think. 
From there we can get the supplies we need and drive up the highway
to Prudhoe Bay.  I think it's the Dalton Highway that we want." 
Mulder paused and tried to remember his geography.  As a child he'd
been fascinated by Alaska and had studied it minutely.  Now this
stored knowledge might come in handy.  

"Alaska it is, then.  I don't think anyone will truly mind.  The
point is to survive the immediate threat and find us a safe place to
wait out colonization.  Alaska may be our best bet."  Skinner snapped
on the radio and fiddled with the dial until he found a station
playing oldies.  The familiar music floated softly in the background
and Mulder smiled faintly at the good feelings the tune could instill:

'Put your glad rags on - join me Hon -
Gonna have some fun when the clock strikes one -
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight
Gonna rock rock rock 'till the broad daylight -'

Both men relaxed in their seats as they drove on in the morning
sunshine.  

They made it to Bethesda in two hours and forty-five minutes, not
intending to speed and risk getting pulled over, but an underlying
urgency to find a place indoors and away from the bees was uppermost
in their minds and lending Skinner a bit of the lead foot.  Staying
away from the downtown congestion they found a small but nice hotel
on the southeast exit and decided it was good enough.  Pulling into a
Hampton Inn, Mulder noticed the place was just about deserted.  He
remarked, "Well, at least we won't hear a lame excuse about
vacancy..."  

While Skinner went in to get the rooms, Bill and Tara woke the
children who were understandably cranky, and Scully stretched and
finger-combed through her hair, trying to untangle it.  In the front
seat Mulder turned around and watched her tenderly, quipping, "Leave
it alone, Scully - I like the wild-woman look.  It suits you." 
Scully snorted and resumed her grooming.

"You haven't seen my wild side yet, Partner... you're in for a big
surprise -" A wicked grin from Mulder stopped her from saying
anything more revealing, and from the back seat Bill sighed and his
aside to Tara broke the small bit of tension in the cab.

"Well, if nothing else, they'll keep us entertained on the trip..."

They ended up with three rooms, all on the same floor and close to
each other.  With a tired, "Later, People," Skinner disappeared into
his room and Mulder unlocked the door of the middle room and ushered
Scully inside.  Tara's soft voice called to him just as he started to
follow.

"Mr. Mulder, wait - I have some fresh clothes, for both of you.  I
guess we'll have to get more later, before we travel - but at least
you'll feel better wearing clean things."  Mulder waited patiently in
the hallway as she hurried to open the suitcase and pull out
clothing; Bill leaned against the wall and stared Mulder down, doing
his best big-brother routine to make Mulder sweat a little.

"I should ask you what your intentions are toward my baby sister,
but I guess I already know the answer to that one, don't I?"  The
rueful growl made Mulder smile tiredly.

"Oh, yeah.  I'm gonna do the nastiest, most sexually deviant acts
upon her dainty person, Bro - but first I'm gonna sleep next to her. 
Maybe I'll work up enough energy to attempt the other stuff, and if I
manage anything of import I'll let you know and you can beat the
crap out of me later, after I've caught a few Zs, okay?"  Both men
fought to keep the smiles at bay as they faced off.  Finally, Bill
cracked a reluctant smile and as Tara reappeared with folded clothes
in her hands, he gave Mulder a short abrupt nod and a parting shot.

"Put a line of pillows down the center of that bed, Mulder... and
kiss Dana goodnight for me."  Tara handed the clothes to Mulder and
her gentle admonishment to her husband made them all laugh.

"Shut up, Bill... and get into your own bed... now!"  As Mulder shut
the door behind him he could hear Bill Scully's gravelly pout to his
wife.

"Jeez, Tara... you gave him the blue shirt!  That's my favorite
shirt..."  And Tara's louder, more insistent, "Shut UP, Bill...!"

Mulder smiled as he threw all the locks and deadbolted the door.


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


'God never gives us more than we can bear.'  It was an old
expression and one of her mother's favorites.  In the darkened hotel
room, curled up in the wing-backed chair by the window, Scully
questioned the wisdom of those words.  She had slipped out of bed a
few hours earlier, careful not to awaken Mulder.  She had slept so
hard and so often over the last two days that she was finding it
difficult now to sleep.  Now she craved sleep and the respite it
would give her from the overwhelming grief and sense of loss that
threatened to crush her.  Glancing at her watch, she wished for
morning to arrive so that she could lose herself in their feverish
plans for escape.  Lose herself in the work and forget, just for a
little while, all that had transpired in the last two days.  How was
it possible for an entire world to crumble in less than forty-eight
hours?

Looking at Mulder, she searched for the sense of peace she always
felt while watching him sleep, but tonight it eluded her.  What were
they doing, she wondered?  How can you run away from the end of the
world?  And even if they were successful in surviving the approaching
onslaught, what kind of world would be left for them?  What kind of
future were they offering to Matty and Meg?  Was it one of hope and
rebirth or was it one of fear and sadness?  

Tracing Mulder's features with her eyes, she also worried about the
present.  She knew that she was holding onto her self-control by a
thread and she was afraid that it would take very little to snap that
gossamer strand. At a time when Mulder needed her more than ever
before, she feared she had nothing left to give him.  One of the
first lessons every child learns quickly, is that life isn't always
fair.  The second lesson that life had been trying to teach her was
that she simply wasn't meant to be happy.  She had resisted that
particular lesson all of her life, telling herself that someday...
Someday she would graduate from school and have a wonderful career
where she would make a real difference in the world.  She sighed,
bitterly aware of the fact that the world as she knew it was going to
cease to exist and that she was helpless to stop it.  Someday she
would meet a wonderful man and they would be blissfully happy
together.  She had been half-right.  She had met him but she had
wasted so much time pretending that they could be no more than
partners and friends.  And when they finally agreed to take a chance
on each other, she had told herself that now - now was her time to be
happy... Someday, she had believed, someday she would marry that
wonderful man and they would raise a family...

Scully knew that she was teetering on the edge of a depression so
dark and deep that if she fell into it, she didn't know that she
would ever find her way back out. She needed Mulder to hold her and
tell her that everything was going to be okay, but how could she ask
that of him?  Of Mulder, who was literally carrying the weight of the
world on his shoulders as they all looked to him to guide them to a
safe haven?  Mulder, who had lost so much himself, at so young an age
but who had used those losses to mold himself into the courageous,
beautiful man with whom she had fallen in love.  She could not lean
on him now when there were so many other things demanding his
attention; so many other lives depending on his strength.  

Mulder rolled over in the bed and mumbled her name softly.  She
watched him drag her pillow into his arms, nestling his cheek into
the cool cotton of the pillowcase.  He shifted, his arms and legs
moved restlessly under the sheets.  Scully stood up and walked over
to the bed.  She crawled onto the mattress and stretched out on her
side next to Mulder.  He turned his face toward her and she reached
out to stroke gentle fingers through his hair.  

"Scully?" he asked huskily.

"Shhh."  She brushed her lips over his forehead.  "Go back to sleep,
sweetheart."

His eyes slid open lazily.  "Sweetheart?" he whispered, as he
nuzzled his face into the soft skin of her throat.

"Shhh," she said again, curling her body around his.  She slid one
hand over his bare shoulder in a gentle caress.  Resting her cheek
against the top of his head, she stared into the darkness.  She
thought he had fallen back to sleep and was startled to hear his
voice.

"Can't sleep?" he murmured against her skin, pressing his lips into
the hollow of her throat.

"I feel as if that's all I've done for two days," she admitted
softly.  Mulder leaned back, resting his head against the pillows. 
Scully propped herself up on one elbow and placed her hand on his
chest. "Just because I'm awake, doesn't mean you shouldn't sleep," 
she told him.

Mulder's hand closed over hers.  "Do you want to talk about it?" he
asked.  She shook her head.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?" he asked.  She shrugged awkwardly, her eyes
meeting his and then sliding away.  

"Either... both.  It doesn't matter.  We don't have the time for me
to wallow in self-pity."  She tried and failed to hide the quiver in
her voice.

"Scully," he chided.  "You aren't wallowing and it isn't self-pity. 
You are entitled to mourn."  He looked up at her and stroked his hand
over her cheek.  Scully turned her face and pressed her lips into the
palm of his hand.

"Do you know that verse from the Bible... to everything there is a
season?" she asked.  Mulder nodded slowly.

"A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time
to reap; a time to kill, and a time to heal... a time to mourn and a
time to dance..." he quoted softly.

"Right," she nodded. "A time to weep, and a time to laugh... a time
for love, and a time for peace. But it's not true.  That verse
implies that in life, everything is balanced out.  A time for the
good, and a time for the bad.  But that's not how it works."  She
rolled on top of him, nestling her hips against his and propping
herself up on his chest.  "There is no time.  No time to mourn and
grieve; no time to bury and say goodbye."  She lowered her cheek to
his chest and her voice was a tiny whisper. "No time to dance or to
laugh..." Her voice trailed off into a whisper.  "Mulder?"

His fingers sifted gently through her hair.  "What, Scully?"

"Do you... if you didn't have that picture of Samantha on your desk,
do you think you would remember what she looked like?" 

Mulder pulled his head back into the pillow, surprised by her
question.  "I don't know," he told her.

She lifted her head.  "I'm... I can't remember what my father looked
like," she admitted.  "Oh, I could describe him if I had to."  Her
brow was furrowed as she tried to focus on the memory of her father's
face.  "But, I can't *see* him anymore.  Do you know what I mean?"
she asked.

Mulder nodded and waited for her to continue.  

"I don't want to forget what they looked like."

He stroked his hands over her back.  "I know."

Scully rubbed her cheek against his chest, pressing her ear over the
steady beat of his heart.  She knew he was waiting for her to
continue and she struggled to put her feelings into words.  "I have
nothing left of them.  I feel like there's nothing for me to hold
onto," she told him.  "My family... my faith."

"God, Scully," he exhaled harshly.  "You can hang onto me."

Scully lifted her head from his chest, saddened by the hurt note she
had detected in his voice, devastated to know that she was its cause.
"I'm afraid to," she admitted.

"Why?" he asked, scraping her hair off her face.  She licked her
lips nervously.  

"I'm afraid that I'll need you too much.  That I'll drag you down
with me."

Mulder rolled over, pushing her onto her back.  Rising up on one
elbow, he loomed over her.  "Scully, you have been the only thing
holding me together, more times than I care to remember," he reminded
her. She nodded, closing her eyes and rolling her forehead against
his bicep.  Mulder whispered to her in the silent room and his words
gave her some of what she seemed to need.

"You don't need pictures of your family to remember them.  Your
mother was pretty, petite and one of the two strongest women I've
ever met in my life.  Your brother was funny, handsome and he adored
you.  Your sister-in-law loved Charlie and made him happy; your
nieces were smart and precocious.  Your nephew was precious."

He kissed her lightly on the lips and stretched an arm behind him,
to lift something from the nightstand.

"You learned about love and life and faith from them."  He lifted
her hand and poured her mother's rosary into her palm, closing her
fingers over the silver beads and placing her fist over her heart. 
"Your memories of them will fade and their faces will dim in your
mind's eye, but the gifts you received from them, from being a part
of them... those you'll have forever."

His thumb stroked over her cheek and she stared up at him, her eyes
shining with love and hope.

"There is a time for everything," he promised.  "Tonight you may
mourn and tomorrow you may laugh."

Scully twined her arms around his neck, tugging his face down to
hers.  "I love you," she whispered, smiling against his lips.  He
kissed her and tucked her into the curve of his body.

"Try to sleep now," he admonished.  She lay with her head on his
chest, rising and falling with each breath that he drew in and
released.  She closed her eyes... and she slept.

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

He lay with the woman he adored nestled safely in his arms - and
worried about the future with an anxiety so deep it threatened to
suck him into those very depths which he'd just assured Scully she
was safe from falling.

Mulder was doing the very thing he'd tried to stop Scully from
doing... dwelling on that which could not be controlled, by him or
anyone else.  A thousand tiny details were skittering though his
brain as he lay next to Scully - things like dentists and eyeglass
prescriptions and auto mechanics... perishable foodstuffs and
vegetables and apples.  Things they took for granted - things that
could be found anywhere.  Schoolbooks and heating oil... drinkable
water and aspirin.  He had begun a list of supplies but he knew the
Excursion, while a very large vehicle, could never hold everything
they would need to begin such a long trek north.  Eventually they'd
have to travel in several vehicles, and he worried about where they'd
find these vehicles - and what else they'd discover when they began
to travel.

Mulder knew the anxiety was mostly a temporary state of being and
things would look brighter in the morning.  A new day would bring so
many tasks to accomplish and such a short time in which to put their
plans into action.  He knew that keeping busy was the best way to
keep these worries at bay - and that he was most vulnerable to his
thoughts during the night.  

He took much comfort in the knowledge that, for now - Scully was
sleeping peacefully and soundly - a sleep she'd desperately needed. 
For as much as she'd claimed to have slept these past few days, it
had not been the kind of soul-reviving, refreshing slumber necessary
to function.  

In his arms Scully stirred a little and her hand slipped down his
chest and rested against his abdomen just below his navel.  Warm and
small and capable of so much tenderness... Mulder covered her fingers
with his own and pressed them gently into his skin.  He could feel
his body stirring to life and rather than feeling frustration because
he couldn't satisfy his needs at this very moment... he chose instead
to celebrate the natural processes of his libido and welcome the very
normalcy of his needs, the reassurance that everything was in working
order, so to speak.  Their time would come; Mulder knew this.  Just
as Scully had said to him, there would be a time to love.  An extra
day or three - or four - would not matter.  Their time would come and
when it did it would be exactly right, for both of them.

Mulder took that comforting thought and let it, and Scully's warmth
against his side lull him to sleep.

*************
END OF PART ONE