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 -


PART THREE

~ Chapter Twenty One ~


In Barrow, the discussion and planning went on well onto the night. 
Some of the women had prepared food and had served it; the planning
continued as they ate.  Agreements were drawn up, the most important
being a refusal to contact any state or federal branch, apprising
them of the situation in Barrow.  They would handle the disposal of
the bodies themselves; Mulder had stressed the importance of doing
this.  

"The bodies must be burned.  This will destroy the virus completely.
I know it's a terrible task but it's vital.  The government has
condoned the colonization for over sixty years - and they have left
behind all who have been infected by food products, removing for
incubation only those people who had been stung."  An outraged murmur
could be heard in the room after Mulder's statement.  Mary watched
the faces of her people carefully, hearing in her head what they had
to be thinking...

Deliberately infected.  Left behind to die.  Those still living made
to worry each and every day for the rest of their lives just when
they would be taken next.  Every science fiction film concerning
aliens, every fictional and imagined account of abduction... all
coming true.  

And yet Mary knew her people.  Knew their strength and their
fortitude; knew their capacity for survival at all costs.  They would
not give in - and they would not give up.

They would not let Barrow sink - they would not let the villages down.

Mulder discovered that indeed, the majority of Barrow survivors were
living at the community center.  There was plenty of room and
everyone felt more secure staying together.  He had a chance to speak
personally with some of the older people who were good friends with
Jon Honea, and asked after his health.  He was able to chat with one
of Beverly's cousins, and discovered that the boy Ty was also a
cousin of Beverly's.  Mulder asked if Ty was in the village, and the
cousin shook his head.

"Ty left early this morning for Mt. Vu'luk.  A headstrong boy, that
one - but true to his heritage.  It is so rare to see these days. Ty
had very few friends in town.  He refused to hang around with any of
the kids who did not embrace the old ways.  I rejoice that he will go
to the village and be with Beverly."  Mulder nodded, glad to hear
that Ty was on his way to safety.  He spoke for a few more minutes
with several more people, then caught Skinner's eye, who politely
broke away from a small group and came over.  Mulder motioned him
into the hallway.

"I arranged for us to see the power and gas plants, first thing
tomorrow morning.  I found out there's a crematorium in town; we can
use it to destroy the bodies.  Small doses of gas can be used to burn
the rest of the food.  I was also told there are two large
greenhouses here and they are used to grow vegetables all year long. 
These people render their own sea salt and their own cooking oil. 
They need nothing from outside - they never did."

Skinner nodded, agreeing completely.  He'd never seen a people more
self-sufficient unto themselves than these Inupiaqs.  Turning a
little, he watched Mary talking and laughing with her friends.  She
would have a hard time leaving; Skinner said it aloud, and glanced at
Mulder when he quietly disagreed.

"No.  She'll come back with us.  There may be friends and some
family here, a few ties.  But everything she truly loves is back in
the village.  Especially her father.  And she's a smart woman; she
knows it's safer there."  Mulder held Skinner's gaze, nodding at the
look of relief in the other man's eyes - fighting the urge to grin. 
Skinner had nothing to worry about, he thought - as he watched his
friend make smiling eye contact with Mary.

Nope, nothing at all.

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

The residents of Mt. Vu'luk, both new and old, held a vigil that
day, keeping watch over Ty and feeding the flames that consumed his
body, and hopefully, the threat of the virus along with it until
there was nothing left but ashes and memories of a headstrong young
man.  Scully oversaw the disposal of the ashes and then turned back
toward the clinic.  Halfway across the village, she stopped in her
tracks and changed direction, heading for home instead.  She could
not bring herself to face the clinic and the knowledge that they
still had no weapon against the virus.

Scully pushed the door closed behind her and leaned against it
heavily.  She walked across the room and lit a fire in the pot belly
stove before sinking down onto the sofa.  She curled her legs up
beneath her and watched the flames lick at the wood.  The crackle of
a fire was usually soothing and hypnotic to her, but now it brought
only bad memories.  Scully pulled her gaze away from the dancing
flames and determinedly turned her thoughts away from Ty.  She looked
around the cabin and decided to spend the rest of the day making it
into a home for Mulder and her.  Four days of living out of bags and
suitcases was quite enough...

She began in the bedroom. Pulling the clothes of the former
occupants from the closets and drawers, she folded them and packed
them into two large boxes that she found in the bottom of the closet.
She went through the cabin, removing the more personal items of the
former owners - framed photographs and journals and the like - and
packed them carefully into the box with the clothing.  She didn't
know about the fate of the people who used to live in this cabin, but
she would hold onto their belongings on the chance that they would
return to claim them someday.  

Scully went from room to room, dusting and cleaning and rearranging
things to her taste.  A small table was pulled closer to the sofa
and she found a pair of mismatched lamps in the second bedroom.  She
brought one of the lamps into the living room and set it down onto
the table near the sofa, plugging it in and sending a soft, warm glow
throughout the room.   She found a beautiful hand-stitched quilt in a
cedar chest and she spread it out over their bed, taking a moment to
study the detailed stitches of the quilt.  Scully took a quick
inventory of the cupboards and threw together a small dinner for
herself.  The domestic ritual helped to soothe her jangled nerves and
after eating she found herself barely able to keep her eyes open.  

Scully showered quickly and bundled herself into a set of thermals. 
She crawled into bed and curled up facing Mulder's empty spot.  She
missed him with an ache that went deep into her soul.  Pulling his
pillow into her arms, she rested her cheek against its cool surface. 
It was a poor substitute for her husband's smoothly muscled chest,
but nonetheless, she clutched it tightly.  Although she had managed
to steer her thoughts away from the horrors of the morning as she had
cleaned the cabin, lying in the dark she was unable to keep them at
bay any longer.  Scully knew they couldn't wait any longer to begin
working on the vaccine.  Ty's death was proof that they weren't
completely safe, even in this remote location.  Finding the vaccine
was paramount to anything and everything else.  Tomorrow she would
speak with the others.  A plan had to be made to get the necessary
equipment in order for her to begin working on the vaccine.

Turning her face into his pillow, surrounded by Mulder's scent, she
slept.

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

Mary woke up slowly, sluggishly.  She had not slept well at all,
last night - unused to sharing a sleeping area with so many others. 
It had been a long time - years - since she had participated in a
sleepover of any kind.  A common occurrence when she was a young
girl, she had outgrown the ability to fall asleep at will. Her eyes
were heavy and gritty; she rubbed at them and thought of the night
before.

She had enjoyed so very much the fellowship of her people.  She had
missed it.  Missed the common ground they had; missed the familiarity
of their heritage.  By nature Mary was gregarious and sociable;
circumstances of life had changed her and made her distant and lone. 
She wanted to be that young, carefree girl again - she wanted to have
a speck of her old life.

Most of all, she wanted love back in her life.  It was within her
reach; she was experienced enough to know.  She had seen the way
Walter Skinner looked at her, how gentle he was with her.  And for
the first time since Calvin's death, Mary was feeling ready to try
again.

But she was an Inupiaq woman - and that meant the following of
tribal rules and mores.  It meant responsibility and the desire to
keep the old ways. And she could not - would not - contemplate the
affection of another man, not while she was still in mourning for her
husband.  It had only been a year.  Inupiaq mores stated a grieving
period at least twice that.

Mary sighed and slowly got to her feet, to face the day.

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

Scully pried her eyes open that morning and poked her nose out from
beneath the covers.  The room was cold but without Mulder's warmth in
the bed to snuggle up to, Scully forced herself to get out of bed. 
Snapping on the bedside lamp she sat up and clutched the blanket
tightly around her, shivering as she swayed a little on the edge of
the mattress.   In spite of the fact that she had slept surprisingly
well last night, she was still unbelievably tired.  Shaking off her
lethargy, she stood quickly and swayed again as a wave of dizziness
swept over her.  She grabbed onto the nightstand to steady herself
and sank back down onto the bed.  Closing her eyes, she lowered her
head between her legs, breathing slowly until the lightheaded feeling
passed.

Scully pushed the blanket from her shoulders. Slowly, shakily she
pulled herself to her feet and dragged herself into the bathroom.  
She stepped into the shower and twisted the taps until the water ran
in hot rivulets over her body.  She ached from head to toe and she
stayed under the hot spray longer than she normally would.  The
achiness was probably from dragging Ty through the village, she
thought.  She climbed out of the shower and bundled into a heavy
robe, swallowing a couple of aspirin and hurriedly dressing for the
day.

Two cups of coffee and a slice of bread served as breakfast and then
she was heading out of the cabin into the dark morning.  She poked
her head into Bill and Tara's cabin and asked them to meet her in the
clinic in an hour.  Scully knocked on the doors of several of the
other villagers, including Jon's, and arranged for them to meet with
her in the clinic at the same time.

Two hours later, Scully had finished explaining to the group her
need for more sophisticated equipment if she was going to be able to
work on the vaccine, and they had hammered out a plan of sorts.  
Scully, Bill and Patrick would take the helicopter and fly to
Fairbanks.  Jon told Scully that there was a hospital in Fairbanks
where he thought she would be able to scavenge most of the equipment
she would require.  It would take most of the day to fly out, gather
the equipment, haul it onto the helicopter and fly back. They made
plans to leave first thing the next morning.

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

In Barrow they spent all that day and half the next gathering and
burning the bodies, a gruesome task that taxed their strength and
gave them nightmares.  All the Barrow villagers participated
regardless of age or state of health.  The Barrow Crematorium had
never seen so much action...

It was damned grim, thought Skinner as he stacked yet another
plastic-wrapped body on a platform trailer hitched to a beat-up truck
and signaled the driver, Joe Manno, to move out.  Removing the
headpiece of his contamination suit, Skinner wiped the sweat from his
face, then caught sight of Mary coming toward him with a thermos. 
Skinner smiled at her as she approached, thinking how pretty she
looked even when she was exhausted.  She had been manning the furnace
and it was hot, miserable work - but they only had two contam suits,
all they could find in the small liquid nitrogen hut on the end of
the runway - and Skinner wanted her as far away from the body
wrapping as possible.  

Mary handed him the thermos and Skinner unscrewed the top and drank
the hot, bracing coffee.  He murmured his thanks, then reached out a
finger to trace the dark shadows underneath her tired eyes.  Mary
sighed and leaned against his shoulder as he rumbled out a protest,
that she was overdoing it.

"Mary, you don't have to do it all, you know - there are a lot of
people who can take over the oven for you."  She nodded against his
suit, and raised her head to look into his concerned eyes.

"I'm all right, Walter.  Tired and heart-sore, but what else could I
be?  I knew so many of these people.  I used to spend summers up here
when I was a teenager.  I would go out on the whaling boat and help
with the catch.  I dated a Barrow boy when I was in college... and I
saw him being wrapped by Mulder, not an hour ago.  Dan had enjoyed
eating beef, and cheeseburgers were his weakness.  The meat must have
infected him.  I looked down and there he was, being wrapped in
plastic."  Her tired eyes filled with tears as she leaned her head
against his arm again, and Skinner could hear the large drops plink
onto the stiff material of his suit.  Skinner dropped his headpiece
and turned her into his arms, holding her while she sobbed.

"Dan got married just last year, to a white teacher.  They were
expecting a baby.  Laura was due in a month - and I don't know where
she is; I didn't see her.  She should have been wrapped with Dan;
they should be set free together, Walter..."  The tears flowed hot
and salty down her cold cheeks, and her small hands clutched at the
front of Skinner's suit.  

And Skinner could not bear to see her crying like this.  Mary was
such a strong woman but this was beyond her strength - to know the
bodies she helped to place into the cavernous oven were her friends -
were her family.  Her heart was breaking against him; he could feel
it.  He murmured to her hoarsely, "Shh, Mary, don't... don't. 
Please, honey - you'll make yourself ill, please don't cry..."  And
he slipped a hand underneath her chin, and raised her wet face to his
to kiss away her tears - and found himself pressing his mouth into
hers, swallowing her small hitching sob, tasting the tears which had
run into her mouth. He was kissing Mary... it had been so long since
he'd kissed anyone.  

Kissing her was sweet beyond measure.  Skinner groaned under his
breath and pulled her up tightly, deepening the kiss - loving it when
she moaned and kissed him back.  

In the waning daylight hours in the middle of a snowy cold Arctic
village, Walter Skinner kissed Mary Honea and the last thought on
either of their minds, for a few precious moments, was infection and
burning and anyone else who stopped dead in their tracks and watched
the embracing couple with sad approval.  He held her soft and warm in
his big arms and kissed her pretty mouth and it was the first kiss
he'd given anyone in so very long... 

It was almost as if he'd been saving himself for her.

Six hours later the last of the hundred or so dead bodies had been
destroyed, and they were beyond exhausted.  They decided to leave the
bulk of the cleaning up for the next day, all of them desperately
needing to get away from the stench of the burning bodies and the
unending flames which had shot up sparks into the black skies,
pouring out of the chimneys like some sort of fireworks display
created by the Grim Reaper himself.  

And as they walked away from it and headed back to the community
center, Mulder decided that if he lived to be a thousand he would not
be able to forget this day.

Fifty weary people trudged back to the community center and tried
their best to wipe the grisly day from their minds.  Food was
prepared and consumed listlessly; for once there were leftovers.  And
by mutual consent the majority went to bed early.


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

Scully had spent the rest of the day at the clinic, pouring over
medical textbooks and making lists of the equipment she thought she
would need to begin work on the vaccine.  With a weary sigh, she
closed the books and gathered her notes.  Bundling into her parka,
she opened the clinic door and stepped outside.  The village was
quiet as its residents went about the nightly tasks of cooking dinner
and getting ready for bed.  Scully walked through the still night,
stopping at Sophie's cabin and knocking briskly on the door.  She
smiled as Sophie peered out into the darkness.

"Hi Sophie," she said.  "Do you think you can help me get in touch
with Mulder?" she asked the older woman.  Sophie looked up and
nodded, crooking a finger and beckoning Scully to enter. Scully
shrugged out of her coat and followed Sophie into the cheery warmth
of her cabin and waited as Sophie fixed two mugs of tea.   She handed
one steaming mug to Scully and led her toward her bedroom.

"We could go to the gathering hall and try to reach them by e-mail,"
Sophie said.  "But unless someone is sitting by the computer, I think
we stand a better chance of raising them on the ham radio."  She sat
down in front of the radio and began to fiddle with the dials.  Five
minutes later she was speaking to someone on the other end in Barrow.

"Jason?  Is that you boy?" she called into the microphone.  The
radio squawked loudly and then Scully could hear the reply coming
from the other end.

"Hey Sophie," a man's voice replied.  "How are things going out
there?" he asked.  Sophie looked up at Scully and grimaced wryly. 
Turning back to the microphone, she spoke quickly.

"About good as can be expected, I guess," she told him.  "Listen
Jason, can you get hold of Fox Mulder for me and bring him to the
radio?  Tell him that his wife wants to speak with him."  The hiss of
static filled the room and then Jason's voice broke through again.

"Sure thing Sophie.  Give me ten minutes and I'll get right back to
you.  I have to go find him." 

"We'll be waiting," Sophie told him.  She turned to Scully and urged
her to sit down.  "Why don't you pull up that other chair over there,
Dana.  It'll be a few minutes while Jason goes to find your young
man."  Scully smiled and dragged a chair toward the desk, settling
gratefully into it with a sigh.  Sophie ran her gaze over the younger
woman appraisingly.

"You look tired," she said in a voice both critical and kind. 
Scully blushed and propped her cheek on one hand.  

"I am tired," she said truthfully.  "Mulder and I have been running
nonstop for almost six months now," she added as she fought off a
yawn.  Sophie made a sympathetic clucking sound and patted Scully's
hand gently.

The radio hissed and sputtered and then Mulder's voice rang out in
the room loud and clear.  "Scully?" he called.  "You there?"  Sophie
spoke into the microphone.  

"She's right here, Mulder.  Just a moment."  Sophie stood up and
Scully slipped into her chair.  "You press this button to speak,"
Sophie explained as she pointed to a button at the base of the
microphone.  "Let go of it to listen to him," she said.  The old
woman walked out of the room, giving Scully a moment of privacy.

"Mulder?" she asked.  "Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you just fine," he assured her.  "What's up?" he asked. 
"Is something wrong?"  Scully could hear the note of worry in his
voice.  She leaned down and pressed the button on the microphone.

"Ty is dead," she told him.  She heard Mulder make a disbelieving
noise and then there was silence coming from his end of the radio.  

"How?" he finally asked in a soft voice.  Scully quickly gave him
the details of everything that had happened the day before.

"We can't wait any longer.  We need to get to Fairbanks as soon as
possible so that I can get started working on a vaccine," she said. 
"Bill, Patrick and I are going to take the helicopter to Fairbanks
Memorial.  We're going to see if they have the equipment I need and
we'll bring it back with us."

Mulder was silent for a moment or two, so much so that Scully feared
they had lost their radio connection.

"Mulder?" she asked.  "Are you still there?"

"When are you leaving?" he asked, unhappy with the thought that he
would be coming home to an empty house.  He missed her so badly and
just wanted to hold her close.

"We'll leave first thing tomorrow morning," Scully told him.  "We're
just going to fly right to the hospital, grab what we need and turn
around to come right back," she said.  "We should be back around
seven o'clock tomorrow night."  She released the talk button and
waited for his reply.  She heard him sigh heavily before he spoke,
the weariness noticeable in his voice.

"We should have things wrapped up here sometime early tomorrow and
we'll be on our way home as soon as we're finished.  I expect we'll
be landing around the same time you will," he said.

Scully leaned closer to the microphone.  "How bad are things out
there?" she asked him solemnly.  

Mulder released another hard sigh.  "Bad.  We've burned almost one
hundred bodies.  Thank God Barrow has a crematorium - I was really
surprised to hear of it but I guess it makes sense when you remember
how frozen the ground up here stays, all through the year.  And we
found contamination suits at the nitrogen plant.  Only two of them,
so I had Skinner wear one and the other was used by one of the Barrow
men who helped to wrap the bodies.  Everyone else stayed clear of the
bodies.  It was the most gruesome job I have ever had to do, Scully -
and through it all I was longing for you so badly I was actually in
pain." 

She could hear the shudder in his voice and the raw sound of it
pulled strongly at her; Scully closed her eyes over the sudden tears
that wanted to roll down her cheeks. She sighed sympathetically and
whispered to him soothingly as he finished reciting the enormity of
the destruction and loss of life they had found in Barrow.

"I wish you were home right now," she told him.  "I miss you." 
Mulder's voice was low and tender and Scully shivered as it coiled
around her like a caress.

"I miss you too, baby," he said softly.  Scully grinned into the
microphone.  She whispered low and close into the microphone.

"Mulder... I love it when you call me 'baby'..."  She could almost
hear the smile in his voice as his response feathered into the miles
of air space between them.

"Baby... baby... baby."  He chuckled, and added, "Will that hold you
for awhile?"  Scully sighed longingly and her reply reflected that
longing.

"It'll have to, Mulder - but hurry home, okay?"  

Mulder's voice broke up for a second or two before stabilizing.  
"... tomorrow, baby..."  She smiled.

 "Yes, I'll see you tomorrow night," she promised.  Mulder's reply
was soft.

"I can't wait," he said.  Scully leaned so close to the microphone
that her lips were nearly brushing against it.

"Bye," she said in a tiny voice.  She pushed her chair back and
began to rise.

"Scully?  Scully!" Mulder's shout boomed over the radio and she
slipped back into her chair and pushed the talk button.

"I'm still here," she said.  "What's up?"  Mulder's voice was
worried and hesitant.

"Scully... when you were... did you remember to..." His words
trailed off helplessly for a moment.  Then he spoke again, rushing
his words out.  "Were you exposed to the virus?" he asked.  "How do
you feel?"

Scully thought briefly about the dizziness and achiness she had
experienced earlier that morning and dismissed the symptoms as
nothing more than being over-tired.  She was feeling a lot better
right now.

"I feel okay," she said, deftly sidestepping the question of
exposure.  "How about you?" she asked.  "Are you taking all the
proper precautions?"  Mulder chuckled into the microphone.

"Yes Ma'am.  I'm being a very good boy out here," he promised.  "We
all are," he told her truthfully.  Scully closed her eyes with relief.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," she whispered.  "Bye."

"I love you Scully," Mulder vowed.  "See you tomorrow."

And then he was gone.  Scully stood.  It was time to get back to work.

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

Mulder could not sleep.  He missed Scully badly; after the horrific
events of the past few days he needed more than ever to lose himself
in the comfort of her arms.  He didn't want to close his eyes - if he
did he would be able to see the billowing smoke rising from the
chimneys of the crematorium; the glow of the oven lighting up the
premature darkness of winter in eerie patterns that he swore he'd
never be able to forget.  The burning smell was the worst... even
standing outside he could smell it.  He'd been able to handle the
bodies with minimal protection, which left the other contam suit for
one of the men who insisted on risking his life to help.  He'd
wrapped so many bodies that he had lost count.  But he could not
imagine the horror of having to be one of the folks who fed the
bodies into the greedy fire, placing them on the metal beltway that
took them into the oven.

Mary had done it - at her insistence she had manned the oven with a
few of the other men to help her by lifting the bodies for her. 
Mulder's respect and admiration for her had amplified - he couldn't
believe her inner strength.  So much like Scully... 

God, he missed Scully.  He lay in the dark surrounded by gently
snoring men, in one of the sleeping rooms, and he thought of his wife
with such longing that it constituted a palpable ache.  He would be
home soon but morning seemed so far away.  They would need to wrap up
a few more loose ends before they could leave tomorrow.  He would be
counting the hours regardless.  

Across from him Skinner lay in a small cot, much too small for his
large frame.  It didn't matter how uncomfortable these cots were,
though - they were just too exhausted to give a damn, especially
Skinner.  Mulder was happy to see the big guy sleeping, even if he
couldn't manage to rest.  

He would have plenty of time to rest soon - when he could wrap his
aching limbs around Scully, and breathe in the clean fragrance of her
- and finally get some sleep...


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

~ Chapter Twenty Two ~


They left Mt. Vu'luk when it was still very early.  Scully was
buckled into the co-pilot's seat of the helicopter.  She was
concentrating on her notes and doing her best to ignore the faint
nausea and dizziness that seemed bent on torturing her.  She had
never liked flying - especially in a helicopter.  Vertigo was the
most obvious reason for her discomfort, she told herself firmly.  And
the headache beginning to pound behind her eyes was the result of too
much stress, too little Mulder and the incessant whine of the
powerful rotors overhead.  She stared out of the windows, looking for
signs of life, but the streets of Fairbanks were deserted.  She slid
her hand to the small of her back, reassuring herself that her gun
was within reach.  The unnatural stillness of this city was unnerving.

She heard Patrick's voice over the headset as he directed Bill
toward the hospital.  "There it is," he exclaimed as he pointed to a
building in the distance.  Bill nodded and banked the helicopter to
the left.  A few minutes later they were hovering over the landing
pad meant for medivac helicopters on the roof of the hospital.  Bill
shut down the controls of the helicopter and they hopped out onto the
rooftop.

"This way," Patrick shouted over the slowing blades of the
helicopter.  Brother and sister followed him to a doorway at the far
end of the roof.  They pushed through the door and walked down a
short hallway to an elevator.  Crowding into the elevator, they
looked helplessly at the number panel.  

"Which floor?" Bill wondered.  Scully shook her head and punched the
button marked "G".  "Let's start on the ground floor," she suggested.
"We'll look for a directory."  The elevator sprang to life and began
to move smoothly down through the shaft.  The three occupants looked
at each other and breathed tiny sighs of relief.  They had worried
that the electricity in the building might have been shut off but
that didn't seem to be the case.  

Scully held up a hand, signaling the two men to wait, as the
elevator doors slid open.  She eased cautiously into the hallway and
slipped her gun from her waistband.  It fit comfortably in her hand
and she held it loosely by her side as they stepped into view.  The
hospital was eerily quiet.

"Don't touch anything or anyone," she cautioned firmly.  Both men
nodded, their faces tense as they made their way toward the lobby of
the hospital.  Drawing closer to the lobby and reception area, the
smell of decaying bodies hit them.  Bill and Patrick closed their
eyes and both men clapped their hands over their mouths.  A dozen or
more bodies lay strewn about the lobby and reception area.  Fighting
against an already unsteady stomach, Scully stopped for a moment.

"Wait here," she told the others.  "I'll find out where we need to
go."  Bill shook his head and grabbed his sister by the arm.

"No!" he said strongly. "We'll all go."  Scully shook off his grip
and looked up at him.

"Bill," she said in a reasonable tone.  "I'm only going to run about
fifteen feet to that reception desk," she said as she pointed across
the lobby.  "You'll be able to see me the entire time," she told him.
"But it's best that we minimize your exposure to the virus."  She
looked at Patrick.  "You too," she said.  Both men had stubborn looks
on their faces and Scully instantly changed tactics.  She had learned
that when common sense and reason don't work, a heaping dose of guilt
usually did the trick.  

"You don't want to bring this virus back into the village, do you?"
she asked.  "Do you want to take a chance on giving it to Tara or the
kids?" she asked Bill.  She turned to Patrick.  "Do you want to risk
Beverly's life?" she challenged.  The shoulders of both men drooped
and Scully knew she had won this round.

"I'll be right back," she said.  She ran lightly, quickly across the
carpeted floor.  Reaching the large information area, she slipped
behind the main desk, recoiling at the sight of a woman, lying on the
floor.  Her blonde hair was streaked with the remnants of the black
oil and a look of horror was frozen on her face.  Scully gulped,
forcing down the bile that rose in her throat and turned her
attention to the desktop.  A quick search revealed the hospital
directory.  Flipping through the small book, she ran her finger down
the chart, tapping it when she came to the information she was
looking for.

"Third floor," she called as she hurried back to the others. They
quickly jumped back on the elevators, impatient now, anxious.  The
elevator bell pinged as they reached their destination and the three
spilled out of the elevator, eager to get what they had come for and
to get back home.  

4This floor was obviously in the research wing of the hospital. 
There were no patient rooms and the human casualties were light. 
Evidence of looting was visible and Scully worried that the equipment
they would need would not be available.  She poked her head into one
room after another and was growing discouraged when finally she hit
pay dirt.

"Here," she called excitedly.  Patrick and Bill hurried toward her
as she stepped into a lab.  Scully was standing near a small piece of
equipment, bent over and studying it intently.  

"A centrifuge," she said.  Bill smiled at the excitement evident on
her face.

"What's that for?" he asked.  Scully was still examining the
centrifuge and her voice was distracted as she answered. 

"It, um... I'll need it to separate the blood..."  She shook her
head and stood straight.  Digging into her back pocket, she pulled
out her list.  "All right," she said.  "Let's do this quickly."  She
consulted her list and began to point to various items and pieces of
equipment that she thought she would need.  The men followed her from
room to room, stacking the equipment in the hallway.  Test tubes,
acids and various buffering solutions were boxed up and added to the
pile.  Incubators for growing cell cultures, a couple of biohazard
suits and a microscope also made their way to the growing pile of
equipment.  Scully had walked ahead of the two men and Bill looked up
as he heard a soft cry of dismay come from a room at the end of the
hall.  Patrick and Bill hurried to the source of the sound and found
Scully standing before a large piece of equipment.

"I had forgotten it was so big," she said.  Her brow was wrinkled in
frustration.  Bill studied the large device.

"What the hell is it?" he asked.

Scully blew out a disgusted breath.  "It's an electron microscope,"
she replied.  Patrick looked out into the hallway and then back at
Scully.

"We've already got a microscope," he said as he pointed toward the
powerful scope they had taken.  "And there's another one back at the
clinic," he told her.  Scully nodded and bit her lip as she circled
the equipment, studying it from every angle.  She crouched down and
looked beneath it and her voice was muffled as she answered him.

"I know, Patrick.  But this microscope is different," she explained.
"I need this scope in order to see the virus itself," she said. 
Scully stood and pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes.  "The other
microscopes will let me analyze the affects of the virus on the
cells, but I won't be able to actually see the virus without this
one."  She walked around the microscope again and stopped with her
hands on her hips.

"It's the staging area that's so big," she said in frustration. 
Bill and Patrick circled the microscope and the three of them studied
it from every angle.

"What if we take it apart?" Patrick suggested slowly.  Scully looked
up at him with an expression both hopeful and doubtful at the same
time.  

"We'd never remember how to put it back together," she said as she
looked back at the complex piece of machinery.  Patrick pursed his
lips and took another look at the microscope.

"I can do it," he said confidently.  "I have a really good eye for
this kind of thing," he told her.  "I can label each piece as we
disassemble it and number it in sequence.  Then we put it together in
reverse sequence when we get it home.  I once helped a man in Juneau
break down an old historical building just this way - he wanted to
move it to Seattle and live in it.  He was one crazy white man,
wanting to move that building - but it worked just fine.  We can do
it," he smiled at Scully reassuringly.  She sucked her lower lip
between her teeth and looked toward her brother.  Bill shrugged.

"I don't know what else we can do," he said finally.  He glanced at
Patrick.  "I'm pretty good with my hands," he told the other man. 
"I'd be happy to help you."  Patrick nodded and smiled again and
turned to Scully for her approval.

Scully held up her hands helplessly.  "Okay, let's do it."  Bill and
Patrick searched the floor for some tools to use in order to begin
disassembling the microscope for transportation.  They found what
they were looking for in a maintenance closet at the end of the
floor.  As the two men began to take the machinery apart, they made
notes on where and how each piece was connected and they carefully
laid each piece of equipment aside.  Patrick found a wide roll of
adhesive tape and labeled each piece carefully with a number, writing
the number down next to the description of how they had taken it
apart. Scully knew the electronics of the scope would need to be
recalibrated when they got it back to Mt. Vu'luk.  Now more than
ever, she was wishing the Gunmen had come along with them.  

She shook off her worries and began to lug the rest of the equipment
up to the rooftop.  It took the men nearly two hours to dismantle the
microscope and log the numbers and descriptions.  In that time,
Scully had hauled all of the other equipment to the helicopter.  She
swayed dizzily on what had to be her twentieth elevator ride back
down from the rooftop and she shakily exited the elevator and sank
down onto the floor as she waited for her head to clear.  Holding
onto the railing that ran the length of the hall, she made her way
back to where the others were working.  She refused to think about
what may be wrong with her - refused to contemplate a possible
reaction to virus exposure.  Whatever was wrong would go away, she
decided.  She walked back into the lab and surveyed their progress.

"How's it going?" she asked as she looked over the pile of equipment
surrounding the two men.  

"We're finished," Bill said as he wiped his hands on the sides of
his jeans.  "But there is no way that we're going to be able to fit
all of this into the chopper," he told her.  Scully stamped a foot in
frustration, cursing softly under her breath.  Patrick stepped
forward and laid a hand on her arm.

"Hey, Doc," he said soothingly.  "We'll come back for the rest of it
tomorrow or the day after," he promised.  Scully nodded in helpless
agreement.  They didn't have any other choice and she was tired.  So
tired.  She wanted to go home.  Mulder would be there waiting for
her.  

"Let's go," she said, throwing one last regretful glance toward the
microscope.  Bill tried to cheer her up.

"Come on, Dana," he said.  "You've got enough equipment to get
started, don't you?"  Scully realized he was right.

"Yeah, Bill.  Yeah," she said as she refocused her attention on the
work ahead and not what was left behind.  "I can definitely get
started now," she told him.  They hurried back to the rooftop.  They
quickly finished loading the last of the equipment into the
helicopter and climbed aboard for the trip back home.

**********

Every muscle in her body ached and she continued to fight off waves
of dizziness and nausea.  Scully was convinced now that she had been
infected again when she had been exposed to Ty's blood.  She didn't
know why the symptoms were coming and going or why they hadn't
affected her in the same way they had affected Mulder.  Maybe the
fact that a bee had stung Mulder and she had been exposed to infected
blood made the difference.  It was one more thing she was going to
have to figure out and she ruthlessly squashed the tiny voice that
was whispering, 'if you live long enough'.  

She glanced over at her brother, debating the wisdom of giving voice
to her suspicions, but she didn't want to panic either man.  Although
both men had touched her on the arm, it had been through several
layers of clothes and as far as she knew, the virus was not airborne.
She didn't think she had exposed them in any way.  Scully rolled her
head against the back of her seat and closed her eyes, wishing she
were at home in the little cabin with Mulder.

She must have fallen asleep because she woke up when she heard
Patrick's voice over the headset, talking to Bill.  

"We're about ten minutes away," he was saying.  Scully sat up
eagerly and began to watch for signs of the village below.  Then,
suddenly, it was there.  She could see the cluster of lights that
indicated the cabins nestled in the deepening snow, and she pressed
her nose against the glass as the helicopter swooped toward the
runway.  She could see several people standing on the tarmac and her
heart leapt when she spotted Mulder's taller figure standing next to
Skinner as both men lifted their faces toward the approaching
chopper.  They were easy to spot even in the darkness owing to their
relative size when standing amongst the smaller Inupiaq men and women.

Bill set the helicopter gently onto the runway and Scully unsnapped
her seatbelt, eager to get out of the chopper and into her husband's
arms.  She rose quickly from her seat and lurched as a wave of
dizziness swept over her.  She heard her brother's voice calling her
name and then everything went black.

**********

Mulder hurried toward the helicopter, crouching down to avoid the
draft of the huge blades still spinning overhead.  He saw Bill hop
out and turn back toward the interior of the chopper, speaking to
someone inside.  Mulder's heart lurched as he watched Patrick gently
hand an unconscious Scully into her brother's waiting arms.

"Scully!" he cried as he raced toward her.  Bill was bent forward
over his sister's limp form, protecting her from the wash of the
blades as he stepped clear of the chopper and he looked up at Mulder
with panicked eyes.

"She just fainted," he cried helplessly.  Mulder snatched his wife's
limp body from her brother's arms and cradled her against his chest.

"What happened?" he demanded.  "Was she hurt?"  He was unaware of
the others hurrying toward them as he stared at Scully's pale face. 
He felt someone tugging on his arm and he turned to see Mary watching
them with concerned eyes.

"Let's get her inside," she said as she pointed toward the clinic. 
Mulder nodded and the group hurried through the snow to the medical
building.  Mary threw open the doors and began to turn on every light
as she made her way through the building.  She pushed open a door and
Mulder gently laid Scully down on one of the examination tables.  He
tenderly stroked her face and called her name.  Her cheeks were pale
and there were dark circles under her eyes.  He cried out in protest
when Mary pushed him out of the way.  She was busy unzipping Scully's
parka and was pushing aside her clothing.  A stethoscope hung around
her neck and she placed the tips into her ears as she listened to
Scully's heart and took her blood pressure.

"Did she fall or hit her head?" Mary asked looking up at Bill and
Patrick who were hovering anxiously in the doorway.  The two men
looked at each other and shook their heads.

"No," Bill said.  "I don't think so," he told her.  His worried eyes
were fastened on his sister's lifeless form.  Mulder shook his head
in frustration and stepped back to his wife's side, stroking her hair
from her face.  

"What's wrong with her?" he demanded, looking up at Mary fiercely. 
She shook her head.

"I... I don't know yet," she told him honestly.  She looked across
the room as Patrick spoke hesitantly.

"She was... she had Ty's blood on her hands, the other day," he said
slowly as he stared sadly into Mulder's eyes.  Mulder's head whipped
back around to his wife's face and fear clawed at his throat. 
Infected blood... oh, Christ.  Please, not Scully... not now!  The
panic rose in him as he clutched at his wife's cold fingers and
fought to keep calm.  Mary had turned to a cabinet and was pulling a
two-inch long capsule out of a box.

"What is that?" he asked warily as he hunched protectively over
Scully's still form.  Mary glanced up at him and stepped up to her
patient, ignoring the fear that was telling her to step back and run
away from the danger.

"Basically it's smelling salts," she told him as she snapped the
capsule in two and waved it under Scully's nose.  Scully's head
twitched and she turned her face away from the noxious fumes. She
could hear Mulder's voice calling her name and she dragged her eyes
open to find him hovering over her.

"What happened?" she asked hoarsely as she looked at the others
crowded in the doorway.  "Why am I in the clinic?" she wondered. 
Mulder leaned close, so thankful to see those blue eyes of hers that
his knees were actually weak.

"How do you feel?" he asked worriedly.  Scully struggled to prop
herself up on her elbows and Mary cranked the head of the bed up so
that she could sit up easily.  Memories of the last few hours came
flooding back and her voice was panicked as she spoke.

"Get back!" she told the others.  "Mary, you need to step away," she
said fearfully.  Her voice was filled with sorrow as she met her
husband's gaze.  "I think I've been reinfected," she told him sadly. 
Mulder swallowed the huge lump of fear that was choking him.  He held
both of her hands tightly.

"What are your symptoms?" Mary asked.  Scully rolled her head
against the bed to look at the other woman.  "Dizziness, nausea...
every muscle in my body hurts," she complained softly.  Mary turned
again and rummaged through a drawer pulling out a syringe and a
length of rubber stripping.  Mulder released one of Scully's hands as
he realized Mary's intent, and she pushed Scully's sleeve up her arm
and fastened the rubber around her upper arm.

"What are you doing?  Stay away, Mary!  It's not safe!" Scully
demanded.  Mary popped the cap off the needle and looked at her
doctor, now her patient.  Her voice was professional and determined.

"I'm going to take a blood sample," she said evenly.  Scully
protested but fell silent as Mary slipped the needle into a vein on
the inside of her elbow.   When she was finished she threw the needle
into a sterile bin on the wall and capped the syringe.  Scully tried
to climb down from the bed and nearly fell onto the floor before
Mulder caught her.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked incredulously. 
Scully pointed her hand toward Mary's retreating back, waving it in a
panic.  

"You have to stop her, Mulder,"  she frantically told him. 
Struggling into more of a sitting position Scully hung onto the table
and called to her friend.  "Mary! You can't touch that blood," she
cried shrilly.  "Damn it Mary!  You don't even know what you're
looking for!"  She lifted eyes filled with frustrated tears to
Mulder's then looked to the doorway.  She saw Skinner standing behind
Patrick and Bill.

"Walter, go stop her," she told him.  "Please," she begged.  Walter
hurried after Mary, knowing he couldn't prevent her from running the
blood test - but he would stand close by and do everything he could
to protect her from being exposed to the virus.  

Tears were running down Scully's cheeks, dripping off her chin. 
"You might not be infected," Mulder told her encouragingly.  He
placed his thumb on the bruised looking flesh beneath her eyes and
tugged. "I don't see any signs of the oil," he whispered.  Scully
turned her face away from his.

"I didn't see the oil in your eyes either," she told him dejectedly.
Mulder sat on the edge of her bed and curled his upper body around
hers in an effort to comfort her as much as himself... and they
waited for Mary to return with the test results.  

Seemingly hours later, Mary and Skinner reappeared at Scully's
bedside.  "I didn't see anything abnormal or not human," Mary told
them.  She placed her hand on Scully's and leaned close.  "I did find
something," she said quietly.  Looking at Scully closely, she smiled.

"You're pregnant."

Bill and Patrick whooped in the doorway and clapped each other on
the back at the announcement.  Mulder sagged with relief and Skinner
was beaming from ear to ear as he stood behind Mary.  Only Scully
seemed upset by the news.

"Pregnant?" she repeated in stunned disbelief.  Mary nodded her head
and smiled happily at her new friend.

"Yes," she said.  "I ran the test twice, just to be sure."  Mary's
voice was soft and comforting.  Scully shook her head and looked up
pleadingly into Mulder's face before turning back to Mary.

"Something's wrong," she told her.  "The test is wrong."  Mary shook
her head and began to protest but Scully cut her off.

"Mary," she said.  "There is no way I could be pregnant."  Mary
laughed and looked at Mulder significantly. 

"Dana," she began.  "I'd say there's every chance that you could be
pregnant."  Scully interrupted her again.

"You're not listening to me," she said leaning forward.  "I. Cannot.
Get. Pregnant."  Her words were low and filled with all of the pain
and sorrow of a woman who desperately wants children of her own but
knows that she cannot have them.  She continued in a raw whisper, "I
have no ova, Mary.  They were harvested from me years ago... when I
was abducted.  I can't..."  She closed her eyes against the
remembered horror, then spoke haltingly, "I don't want to get into it
now, please - I can explain more later.  But trust me - there isn't a
way I could be pregnant."  

Mary pursed her lips and propped her hands on her hips.  "Well Dana,
I don't know what to tell you because the tests show that you are
most definitely pregnant," she said firmly.  "I can't imagine what
sort of procedure was done on you to remove your ova.  I know ova do
not regenerate.  Maybe they missed a few."  Scully swung her legs
over the side of the examination table, glaring at Mulder when he
tried to stop her.

"These people don't make mistakes.  They don't miss a thing, either.
I want to see for myself," she demanded, harshly suppressing the hope
that was fluttering inside her like a tiny heartbeat. Sighing
helplessly, Mulder wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her out
of the room, Mary and Skinner following behind them.

A few minutes later, Scully turned from the microscope and lifted
stunned eyes to his.  "Oh my God," she whispered.  Her lips trembled
and she pressed her fingers against them.  "This can't be right," she
said disbelievingly.  "How can this be right?" she asked.  Mulder's
eyes smiled down into hers.

"Pregnant?" he asked, pulling her into his arms when she nodded
slowly.  

Scully pushed away from him and shook her head.  "I want to run the
same test on the sample of blood I took from Ty," she said.  Mary
looked at her as if she thought Scully was crazy.  

"You want to test a man's blood to see if he was pregnant?" she
asked slowly.  For the first time, she began to question Scully's
mental state.  Scully looked back and forth between Mulder, Skinner
and Mary.

"Not to see if he was pregnant," she ground out through clenched
teeth.  She felt Mulder's body tense behind her as her implication
hit him.  "But if his test results are the same as mine," she lifted
fearful eyes to her husband's, "then there is every chance that there
was an alien gestating within him," she said.  She shifted her gaze
and her eyes bore into Mary's.  "And in me."

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

~ Chapter Twenty Three ~

The blood taken from Ty yielded no specific secrets other than the
presence of the virus - what they already knew.  Now Scully was lying
back on the examination table again.  This time she was dressed in a
paper gown and her feet were propped up in the stirrups attached to
the foot of the table.  The men had cleared out of the room and she
was alone with Mary.  She studied the ceiling tiles, wincing slightly
as Mary examined her carefully.  She felt Mary's hand on her knee as
the other woman stood up and stripped the latex gloves from her
hands.  Mary stepped around to the side of the table and laid a hand
on Scully's belly.

"I'd say you're about three weeks along," she told her.  "Beginner's
luck," she smiled.  Tears tracked down Scully's cheeks and she
nodded.  Her mind was slow in processing this change from the
overwhelming fear that she had been re-infected to the stunning
knowledge that she and Mulder had defied everything her doctors had
ever told her and had created a life between them.  She looked up at
Mary and brushed the tears from her cheeks.

"Would you send Mulder in?" she asked. Mary draped a light blanket
over her and slipped out of the room.  

A few seconds later, Scully smiled tremulously as Mulder walked into
the room.  His worried stare met hers and she nodded and held out her
arms to him.  The grin that washed over his handsome features and
broke like a new dawning within his eyes made her laugh and cry all
at once. Mulder gathered her into his arms carefully as if she might
crumble under too much pressure, and buried his face into her hair as
he began to shudder in delayed reaction to the strain of the past
hour.  His voice was awestruck.

"I'm gonna be somebody's daddy, Scully.  Jesus, Thank You - a
father.  Me.  Oh man, I can't..." He shook his head and pressed a
fervent kiss against her temple, sighing at the reassuring hand she
rubbed over his back as he struggled with this amazing revelation. 
She tugged at his hair gently and Mulder pulled a face wet with tears
from her neck and stared into her damp eyes.  Her words were thick
with residual worry.

"Mulder - there has to be an explanation for this.  Ova do not just
suddenly appear.  My specialists told me that I had none left - not a
one.  And even if one or two had escaped their notice, the chances of
their fertilization are a million to one.  My menstrual cycles have
been a mess since my abduction; I never know when I am going to have
one.  Sometimes they appear normal and sometimes I have all the
symptoms but no discharge."  She was blushing furiously as she spoke
and Mulder was so humbled by the confidence she felt in their
relationship, just to tell him this - he was speechless.  Scully took
a deep breath and continued in a whisper.

"The environment inside my womb is in question, Mulder... serious
question.  There is no doubt that a baby is growing in there.  We ran
every test.  Mary is convinced it's normal.  To know for certain we
would need an ultrasound done, and I doubt I am far enough along to
be able to see much, yet. We'll have to wait.  Thank God we have
ultrasound equipment here."  Mulder nodded and tried to make his
voice as steady and reassuring as possible.

"Mary will do one for us, as soon as it's feasible. And we will face
together whatever we discover.  Okay, Scully?  Together."  He stared
hard into her worried eyes, willing her to nod and smile - relieved
beyond measure when she did.  She wound her arms around his neck and
held his head close to hers as he kissed her tenderly.  He could feel
the smile she formed against his cheek as he murmured teasingly to
her.

"My wife, the pregnant lady.  I'll ask Sophie to make you a
maternity parka..."  Her giggle was weak but it made him so happy to
hear it.

"Oh, shut up, you idiot - and let me get out of this stupid gown
before I freeze my ass off..."

*********

Their friends had swarmed the clinic, waiting for news on Scully's
condition.  Their worried eyes had been facing the door of the exam
room.  Sophie had been softly praying, and Beverly had clutched
Patrick's hand so tightly that he'd lost circulation in his fingers.
Bill had told Tara about the collapse and the possibility of
pregnancy; she had rushed over to the clinic in a panic, with Michael
staying behind in their cabin to watch over Matty and Meggie.

Now the door opened and Mulder came out, carrying Scully in his
arms, both of them grinning from ear to ear.  A collective sigh of
relief rose up from every throat, and everyone began exclaiming and
congratulating them at once.  Tara hurried to Scully's side as Mulder
set her on her feet, and the sisters hugged each other tightly. 
Tara's teary voice washed over her as they embraced.

"A baby, oh Lord, Dana!  I can't believe it!  Thank God I packed
maternity clothes!"  Scully erupted into almost hysterical laughter
at her sister-in-law's announcement and she hugged her tightly again
before pushing away to gape at Tara.

"Why on earth would you pack something like that, you silly woman? 
Unless..."  She eyed the other woman's flat stomach and Tara gasped
and blushed, shaking her head.

"No, I'm not!  But you never know, Dana - and we had been actively
trying, before... well, before all this started.  We want another
boy.  I guess I just grabbed and packed, then forgot all about it -
until now.  I didn't bring anything much, just some baggy sweaters
and pants with panels in them, stuff like that.  But as small as you
are they'll work out great for you."  Both women grinned inanely into
each other's faces, then the import of it all hit them anew and they
both screamed aloud and hugged again, while their friends and family
gathered around them and laughed, smiled - wiped away a tear or two -
and celebrated.

It was late when everyone finally called it a night, and left the
gathering hall for their respective homes.  They had eaten a huge
meal of moose stew and had scarfed canned blueberries and shortbread
for dessert.  They had each toasted the future Baby Mulder with small
glasses of homemade cranberry wine, and the caring and acceptance of
the villagers in that room had humbled Mulder as he sat on a blanket
near the stove with Scully's head in his lap, fingers winnowing
soothingly through her hair.  She had dozed off a few times but he'd
been loath to move her, since she seemed comfortable enough.  

In a soft voice that carried over the silent room Mulder had
explained why an ultrasound was the only way to know for sure whether
or not Scully's would be a normal pregnancy.  Mary had confirmed that
she'd be happy to handle the procedure when the time came.  It was
better to be sure... it was best to know soon, just in case.  Nobody
wanted to dwell on the implications of what would need to be done if
the 'just in case' actually happened... for now it was vital to keep
their spirits up and their hope strong.

Mary had smiled reassuringly as she agreed to schedule at the
soonest possible moment an ultrasound that would go a long way toward
confirming that the child was healthy.  Then she caught Mulder's eyes
as he stroked Scully's hair from her forehead - and what she said
made everyone in the room gasp - and then break out in excited
chatter.

"You know, if I understand correctly the history behind your and
Dana's immunities against the alien virus... then we have to assume
your baby will be born with natural immunities."  She paused and
chuckled softly at the look of almost comical realization on Mulder's
face, before continuing.  "If my calculations are correct your baby
will arrive right around June, during the summer equinox.  This is a
very special time for us - truly spiritual and lucky.  It's when the
sun doesn't touch the horizon for eighty-seven days in a row - a time
when everything warms and grows and flourishes.  Including hope."  

Mary reached out her hands to Mulder as he sat on the floor with his
wife's head in his lap; reached out and cupped his face in her hands,
smiling into his eyes as she whispered, "Your baby will be the
future, Mulder.  Born during the most significant time of the year. 
This is a good omen... the best.  I just wanted you to know."  She
leaned in a little, and over the sleeping form of her friend, Mary
kissed Mulder's cheeks.  And when she released him the look on
Mulder's face was so priceless the entire room broke into laughter. 
He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.  Finally he
managed to utter a small, hoarse, "Thank you, Mary... everyone. 
Thank you..."

And his stumbling words roused Scully from her dozing, and she
stared up sleepily into her husband's stunned face, inquiring
groggily, "Mulder?  I must have fallen asleep. What did I miss?" 
Mary smiled at Scully and her eyes flashed mischievously at Mulder
before she answered in a purposely-vague tone.

"Oh, nothing much, Dana... I kissed your husband.  That's all." 
Mulder's face stained bright red and Scully glanced from one to the
other, before snuggling back into his lap.  She yawned and stretched
a bit.

"Oh, was that all?  Well, I can understand the compulsion, Mary - he
is damned kissable."  Amid more laughter Sophie piped up with a
smiling affirmative.  

"He sure is, Dana.  May I add my congratulations to the rest - for
the baby, and for the husband."  And underneath her head Scully could
feel Mulder's stomach muscles clench, as he muttered.

"Ahh, Geez..."

The discussion went on through the rest of the evening, everyone
enjoying another round of cranberry wine and listening as Mulder and
Scully shared the most difficult facts about Scully's past inability
to bear children - and why this was indeed a miracle pregnancy.  And
as the story of Scully's stolen and harvested ova was revealed, once
again their Native friends shook their heads in amazement over the
kind of people who could do this to another human being.  It was
simply beyond them.  Sarah had asked about the possibility of some
leftover ova; as a mid-wife she understood the female reproductive
system as well as any nurse or doctor.  Scully had sighed and
shrugged as she'd replied.

"Well, it's possible.  But I would say no.  It's more than likely
that another sort of procedure was performed on me, again without my
knowledge..."  And as simply as possible she'd explained about their
old, now most certainly deceased enemy, CGB Spender - and his dubious
'assistance' in possibly restoring her fertility, months and months
ago.  

"We don't know for sure if that's what he did.  Mulder and I talked
this over a little while ago, right before dinner.  But it's the only
plausible way."  She'd looked up at Mulder, her head snuggled against
his shoulder, and he'd smiled down at her and kissed her temple
before adding in his thoughts.

"I'd have to say it's the likeliest of any explanation.  And nobody
hated that bastard more than I did - for what he took away from
Scully, and from me.  But if he somehow restored some of what he had
taken from us, by giving back to Scully the opportunity to be a
mother... then in the very smallest of ways I can find a drop of
forgiveness in my heart for him."  

Skinner, sitting across the room beside Mary, had snorted and lifted
his glass of wine in a mock-salute.  His equally mocking toast was
delivered in such a flat, dry voice that everyone laughed.

"To that black-lunged, withered old shithead, Spender..."  Glasses
were raised in the air and solemn voices echoed the toast.

"To the shithead..."  And in a small, sleepy voice Matty piped up;
he'd been curled in Bill's lap and everyone thought he'd been asleep
all this time. 

"Mommy... what's a shithead?"

The entire room roared with laughter.

****************
  
"Mulder... I can walk!  You don't have to carry me!"  Scully wiggled
a little in his arms, and Mulder just grinned and clutched her
tighter as he carried her through the snow toward their cabin.  

"Yes, I have to carry you, Scully.  I'm considering a way to carry
you around for the next seven or so months, in fact.  Maybe a wife-
sized papoose I can mount on my back."  His wife snorted into his
neck as they neared the cabin; the glow of the front window
illuminated her soft expression as she gazed up at him.  She pressed
a kiss into his chin and her tone was serious when she spoke.

"You would really do it if you could, wouldn't you? Carry me around.
I can see you, worrying too much and being over-protective.  Mulder,"
she caught his cheek with a hand, momentarily diverting his attention
from opening the door, "I'm going to have a great pregnancy.  I admit
I was worried at first but right now I feel so good."  Mulder huffed
a little chuckle as he finally got the door open and carried his
precious burden into the warmth of their home, and deposited her
gently on the sofa. As he unzipped her parka and tugged off her
mukluks his reply was patient and lovingly reasonable.

"You feel good because you're tipsy, Scully... you had three glasses
of potent homemade wine.  And I sure hope you enjoyed it, because
it's the last booze you'll be having until after the baby is weaned
from breast-feeding."  He set her outerwear aside and stood up to
remove his own parka and boots, then smiled down at the adorable
picture she made reclining against the cushions of the faded sofa
with the glow from the pot belly stove flickering a golden light over
her sleepy face.  Scully held out her arms and he sank down upon the
sofa next to her and took her onto his lap and held her close as she
cuddled against him.  

"That was some tasty wine, Mulder.  It went down very easily and got
me all warmed up inside.  I didn't even feel the cold when we went
outside.  I was feeling no pain, Partner..."  She giggled into his
mouth as he kissed her, unable to resist her for one more second.  He
spoke against her lips.

"You're still feeling no pain, baby.  I think I'd better get you
into bed."  He stood up with her in his arms and Scully fluttered her
lashes at him as they moved into the bedroom.  He laid her on top of
the quilt and Scully grabbed at Mulder's shirt and yanked him down
over her, forcing all the air from his lungs in one abrupt whoosh. 
He stared down into her impish eyes, feeling himself becoming very
rapidly aroused despite his exhaustion. He bracketed her head between
his hands and regarded her with a half-smile.

"What's up, Scully?"  She squirmed underneath him and he bit back a
groan.  Her reply was saucy in the extreme.

"Well, by the feel of it... you're up Mulder.  Definitely up."  She
snaked a hand over his denim-covered ass and pressed him down hard. 
Mulder groaned aloud, then lowered his head until he was a scant
fraction of an inch from kissing her - and the dark shadows under her
eyes stopped him dead.  She was so tired and she didn't even know
it...

"Scully, baby - you're wiped out.  You need sleep.  Just let me turn
out the lights in the other room, and get you into something
comfortable... this can wait until you're not so tired."  He tried to
get up and her arms tightened around him, pinning him against her. 
She growled into his ear.

"The only thing I want gotten into is me - by you.  I need you so
badly, Mulder... I missed you so.  These past days have been awful
for both of us.  We can sleep in tomorrow, can't we?  I promise I'll
sleep as much as you want me to - but not now.  Please, not now." 
Her blue eyes glittered up at him, a mixture of desire and heat. 
Mulder exhaled harshly, knowing he couldn't resist her.  He needed
her as badly, if not more, than she needed him...

With tender hands he undressed her, kissing each new soft spot of
skin bared to his adoring gaze.  He removed his own clothes quickly,
not letting her move a muscle, wanting her to relax and do nothing
more strenuous than accept his worship of her.  

He used his mouth to read her body, following the map of her skin as
his hands traced and stroked every place he touched with lips and
tongue.  Against his mouth she sighed and shivered, her fingers
flexing into either side of the mattress.  Welcoming each other home,
that's what they did; while the little stove in their living room
kept the deep night warm and heated and their water heater gurgled in
the tiny kitchen.  While the winter wind blew against the storm
windows outside and the roof creaked in mysterious ways.  And they
had become so accustomed to these frequent sounds in so short a
time... they never heard a thing past the pounding of their own
hearts as the desire between them spiraled higher.  

When Mulder finally slipped into his wife's silky warmth the only
thing on his mind was loving her to within an inch of both their
lives. The only sound he wanted to hear was the sweet gasps and moans
she sent into his ear as she moved beneath his hungry body.  The only
feeling he needed to feel was the indescribably tight cling of
Scully, all around him... the only words that crossed his lips as he
tightened and then shuddered within her mere seconds after her climax
tore at him... was her name, uttered like a prayer.

Outside the wind blew and inside the fire flickered as they slept,
joined hand to hand and body to body.

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

The gathering hall had been built with many purposes in mind.  It
served as town hall, schoolhouse, social center and church.  It was
the latter that Scully sought.  Mulder had told her in no uncertain
terms that when the time came she would not be going back to
Fairbanks to supervise the retrieval of the equipment they had to
leave behind. While she agreed that it made sense to let someone else
go in her place, she chafed at the restriction.  Though she knew he
was right and her poor nauseous tummy couldn't take a prolonged
helicopter ride... still it was the principle of the thing - it was
about the right to dictate to herself, about herself.  

Except it wasn't just her anymore.  There was a tiny uber-Mulder
growing inside of her, a minuscule being that already depended on her
for nourishment and protection...   So she grudgingly agreed to ask
Mary to accompany Skinner, and concentrated her efforts on reading up
in the stack of medical journals and research manuals she'd borrowed
from the clinic.  But after only a few days of concentrated effort at
beginning her work on creating a vaccine she was feeling badly out of
her depth and was seriously questioning her ability to succeed.  

Abandoning the sterile confines of the clinic, she had gathered up
her notes and stepped out into the cold to finish the bulk of her
heavy reading at home.  As she passed the gathering hall she changed
her mind and instead stepped into the long, narrow building.  She
poked her head into each of the rooms, beginning with the room in
which she and the other refugees had met the residents of Mt. Vu'luk.
She glanced into the schoolroom that held less than a dozen student
desks.  Several computers were set up on a table in the back of the
room.  She peered into a third room filled with books and magazines. 
An old sofa and two worn, but comfortable looking chairs were
squeezed into the room.  A checkerboard sat on a low table in the
corner with two folding chairs on either side.  Scully studied some
of the titles of the books piled haphazardly on the bookshelves and
scattered over the coffee table.  

The fourth room yielded the chapel.  There were three rows of
benches facing a tiny altar.  Gleaming brass candlesticks, obviously
well polished, stood at each end of the altar.  A small pulpit stood
to one side and on the wall behind the altar hung a tapestry
depicting the creation story from the Bible.  Scully sank down onto
one of the benches and dug her mother's rosary from her pocket. 
Silently praying, she lost herself in the exquisite and minute
stitches that told the familiar story of Adam and Eve and the Garden
of Evil.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Scully jumped at the sound of the voice coming from behind her.  She
spun on the bench to find Jon Honea standing in the doorway of the
small chapel.

"Eld... Elder Honea," she said, stumbling a little over the
unfamiliar title.  "I didn't hear you come in."  Jon moved the few
feet across the room to stand next to her.

"May I?" he asked indicating the spot on the bench beside her. 
Scully nodded and slid across the polished wood to make room for him.

"Of course," she said politely.  Jon sat down and turned his
attention to her.

"You may call me Jon," he reminded her softly.  Scully blushed and
ducked her head.

"I'm sorry, Elder Honea," she said with an embarrassed smile.  "Too
many years being lectured by the Sisters to respect the collar.  I
don't think I'd be comfortable calling you by your first name," she
said apologetically.

"Ah," Jon nodded knowingly.  He glanced down at the rosary knotted
around her fingers and then back up to the serious, blue eyes
studying him intently.  "I remember.  You're Catholic." He remarked. 
Scully's fingers tightened around the silver beads in her hands and
she dipped her head in reply.

"Yes."

Jon crossed his legs and leaned one elbow against his knee, propping
his chin on his palm as he gazed toward the tapestry.  "Do you miss
it?" he asked suddenly.

Scully knitted her brow in confusion.  "I'm sorry," she said.  "I'm
not sure I know what you mean."  Jon twisted his head to face her and
he took his time in answering.

"I wanted to know if you miss your church," he told her simply. 
Scully lifted one hand to play with the cross glinting at the hollow
of her throat.  She licked her lips as she considered how best to
respond to his question.

"I miss... I miss the ritual of it," she said finally.  Jon tilted
his head, prompting her to explain further.

"I miss the ritual, the sameness of it," she told him.  "No matter
what part of the country Mulder and I were in when we were working on
a case, if I had time to get to Mass on Sunday, the service was
always the same.  I... I took comfort in that sameness," she said. 
Her voice trailed off as she looked around the room.  "Everything is
so foreign to me here," she said apologetically; she waved her hand
around to indicate more than just this quiet place of worship.

Jon nodded, understanding her meaning.  "You can still have your
rituals," he told her.  His smile was kind and Scully was drawn to
the wisdom that she saw in his eyes.  "You have the lessons learned
in childhood," he said.  "And you have the tangible reminders of your
faith."  He gently touched the rosary, and nodded toward the cross
around her neck.  "Dana, the real question that you need to ask
yourself is this:  Do you still have your faith?"  He watched her
expectantly.

Scully thought about his question long and hard.  Did she still have
faith?  Or was she sitting here mindlessly mouthing the Hail Mary
because it was the easy and expected thing to do?  She studied her
hands as she struggled with Jon's question and her gaze fell on the
carved band of ivory encircling the ring finger of her left hand and
she knew her answer.

"I still have my faith," she said in quiet, resolute voice. 
"Despite everything that has happened, despite everything I've
seen... I have my miracle," she told him as she ran her thumb over
the delicate carvings of her wedding band.  

"Miracles," he amended, touching his palm lightly to her belly. 
"This little one is going to be a miracle for all of us, I believe,"
he said solemnly.  Scully lifted a startled gaze to the old man and
he smiled into her upturned face gently.

"Mary has told me that both you and Mulder are immune to this
virus," he said.  "And that there is every reason to expect that this
child will be born free of its terrible threat."  His eyes were
alight with hope.  "You are the mother of our future," he told her.

Scully's hand settled protectively over the place where her baby
grew.  She didn't know what to think of the Elder's quiet
proclamation and her mind shied away from it.  Jon was aware of her
discomfort and he sought to set her at ease.

"Well!" he said heartily as he clasped one of her hands in his. 
"Perhaps you will see fit to calling me Reverend Jon?  A more
familiar and comfortable title, for you - and one I find I don't mind
in the least," he added, with an impish smile on his face.  Scully
smiled back and nodded.

"I'd like that," she told him.  Jon squeezed her hand.

"Now... I am a Reverend without a job," he told her as he rose to
his feet.  "I am going to begin holding services here on Sundays. 
Perhaps you would like to attend?" he asked.  "I'll tell everyone in
the village.  I think it would be good for all of the residents of
the village, both old and new, to get together on a weekly basis." 
Scully smiled hesitantly.

"I'd love to attend Sunday services, Reverend Jon," she said.  "But
while Mulder has his own faith, he isn't particularly religious," she
explained.  "I wouldn't count on him to be there."  She wrinkled her
nose as she thought.  "I don't know about Walter, either," she said
finally.

Jon glanced back up at the muted colors of the tapestry before
turning back to face Scully.  He crossed his arms over his chest
speaking slowly as he thought out loud.  "What if we were to hold a
social function after the services?" he wondered.  "Do you think
everyone would attend?"  Scully laughed.  

"You mean like a pancake breakfast?"  Her eyes were dancing with
mischief.  Jon smiled back.

"Well maybe not pancakes," he said.  "I was thinking more along the
lines of lunch."  Scully cocked her head to one side as she
considered the Elder's suggestion.

"I think that's a splendid idea," she said resolutely.  John grinned.

"Then I'll see you on Sunday," he told her.

*******

~ Chapter Twenty-Four ~


Skinner topped off the fuel and locked down the cap on the
Hummingbird, shivering a little in the icy breeze.  The days were
getting so short; another few weeks or so and they would be plunged
into months of unrelenting darkness.  

He zipped his parka up to his neck and pulled the hood forward,
tugging on the cords until the fur trim framed his face warmly and
only a small circle of his skin was visible.  He loaded in a few last-
minute items and waited patiently, knowing Mary would arrive any
moment. Skinner wanted to be ready to go, before day broke and then
crashed again.  With only an hour or so of daylight they didn't have
much of a window to at least get in the air and avoid maneuvering
through the worst of the taller mountains along the Range.

He was looking forward to this day alone with Mary.  He didn't want
to admit it to himself - but there it was.  The more he got to know
her the more she fascinated him; Mary was such a mixture of modern
woman and traditional Inupiaq ways.  He thought about her often. 
Skinner snorted derisively as he sprayed de-ice on the copter's
chopper blades.  Hell... he thought about her all the time!  Might as
well be truthful... and it was more than a normal male reaction to a
lovely woman.  Beverly was his age and she was quite pretty.  But
Skinner did not find her attractive... not in that way.  Skinner did
not want to drop to his knees in front of Beverly and bury his face
against her breasts and taste every inch of her soft creamy skin...

Shit!  He tugged at his jeans.  What the hell was he thinking of...
goddamn jeans were tight enough with the layer of thermals
underneath, without making it worse.  Skinner sighed, trying in vain
to adjust himself more comfortably within the confines of the snug
denim. It was going to be a long trip.

Mary's low greeting made him whip about, temporarily forgetting his
discomfort. In the gloom of almost-daylight she came toward him,
bundled up in her parka and a pair of rubber bunny boots.  On anyone
else but Mary Honea, those silly-looking boots would have looked,
well... silly.  Somehow Mary made them look cute.  Skinner smiled at
her as she drew near, refusing to listen to that inner voice that
told him he really had it bad for this woman, if he thought bunny
boots could be cute on anyone...

"Morning, Walter... I brought you some hot coffee."  Mary walked up
to him holding out a large thermos which Skinner took gratefully,
glad to have something to do with his hands instead of wishing he
could just reach out both of them and grab hold of Mary's sweet
little face, and kiss her lips off...  

He took a large swallow of the fortifying beverage and re-capped it,
then helped Mary get settled and buckled in.  And he took a deep
breath as he walked around to get into the pilot seat.  They had a
long, weary day ahead of them, trying to cram as much of the broken
down scope into the copter and then fly it back to the village.  It
would probably take more than one trip.  Skinner glanced over at Mary
and his mouth said banal things such as, "Ready to go..." while his
eyes stared hers down and whispered to her, "I want you... now..."  

Mary swallowed visibly and nodded... quite forgetting how to speak. 
Skinner accelerated and lifted - and they were off.

********

Above the clattering roar of an ancient Hoover vacuum cleaner,
Mulder heard the copter as it lifted, and he grinned to himself as he
ran the cleaner over the last spot of carpeting and shut the noisy
thing off.  Scully looked up from the research manual she had been
reading, and commented, "That piece of junk needs to be put out of
its misery, Mulder... where did you find it?"  Mulder wrapped the
cord around the handle of the cleaner and set it by the door, before
plopping down onto the sofa next to his wife.

"Tara found it in that shed behind her cabin.  It still sucks...
sort of."  Mulder cackled at his own inane joke, while Scully just
shook her head and buried her nose in her manual.  Mulder poked at
her with one wool-covered foot.

"Did you hear the copter?  Skinner and Mary took off."  Scully
looked up again, and nodded.

"I heard it - barely - above that ungodly din you were creating with
that dinosaur of a cleaner.  And why don't you call him 'Walter'?  He
specifically asked us to."  Mulder shook his head, amusing himself by
burrowing his big toe under Scully's flannel-covered bottom.

"I can't seriously call him Walter... any more than I could call you
'Dana'.  I've tried and it just doesn't feel right.  Old habits,
baby..."  Scully squirmed as his foot caught a ticklish spot and her
hand reached out to grasp at his foot.

"Mulder, that tickles!  And if you can call me 'baby' then I don't
see why you can't call Walter by his name.  What's the difference? 
The word 'baby' was something new to get used to, and you managed
just fine, right?"  Mulder grinned and pulled at his foot, dragging
Scully along with it until she was within grabbing distance, then
pounced on her and tugged her body over his as he reclined against
the sofa cushions.  He cradled her between his legs and played with
the ends of her hair, vaguely noting how long it was getting.

"That's different... I was thinking of you in terms of 'baby' long
before I would even contemplate thinking of Skinner in 'Walter'
mode..."  Scully rolled her eyes and propped her chin on his chest as
he continued to finger her hair.

"Well whatever, Mulder.  I'm just glad I was able to talk Mary into
going, even if I was initially pissed off at your refusal to let me
go.  But you were right - and I sure wasn't looking forward to
another attack of copter-nausea."  Scully rubbed at her stomach for
good measure. Mulder stroked his hand up and down her back gently,
and she arched against him like a contented little cat.  His voice
was low with concern over the nausea issue.

"You're not still queasy, are you, Scully?  I mean, this is just
normal pregnancy queasiness, right?"  She raised her head at the note
of worry in his tone and smiled at him reassuringly.

"It's perfectly normal, Mulder.  I will feel nauseous off and on for
several months.  Besides," her voice got impish, "Nausea was a damn
good excuse to get Mary on the trip instead of me... she'll get to
spend some quality time with Walter.  There is a method to my
madness," she concluded with lofty purpose.  Mulder chuckled and
cupped her rosy cheek, feeling her answering grin against his palm.

"Why, you little matchmaker... of course it doesn't take much making
to get them to match, I would think.  Skinner's got a definite thing
for Mary."  Scully nodded thoughtfully.

"Mmmm, yes... I wonder what's holding them back.  I have a feeling
it's more Mary than Walter.  I see the way she looks at him,
though... and I know she wants him.  But maybe it's too soon after
her husband's death.  Maybe there are traditional constraints
concerning mourning periods, in Native culture.  Mary is extremely
traditional.  But how I would love to see her happy... as I would
Walter.  They both deserve happiness, Mulder... we all do."  Scully
laid her cheek against her husband's taut abdomen, taking comfort in
the steady rise and fall of his breathing. She added softly, "And now
that we have it, I would like to see our friends have it as well."

Mulder stroked her bright head and smiled to himself, thinking
Skinner would find a way to get what he wanted.

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

Bill and Patrick moved the last of the small tables out of the
largest exam room in the clinic, and cleared out a filing cabinet and
several chairs.  Wiping his forehead Bill gave the empty room the
once-over, trying to picture in his mind how large the electron scope
had looked when it was assembled.  He was reasonably sure they'd
chosen a room large enough.

Beside him Patrick commented, "It'll be tight, but I think we can
fit everything in here.  You think Dana will have trouble getting it
to work once we put it back together?"  Bill shrugged and slipped
into his parka and dug through the pockets for his gloves.

"I hope not.  She says re-calibration can be tough on these delicate
scopes.  But Mary has used one before and between the two of them
they should be able to do it.  Mary's going to go through some of the
files in that lab, and see if the manuals are still there.  If they
are she'll grab them."  Bill tugged his watch cap into place and
slapped Patrick on the back, adding, "Come over for lunch, Pat - Tara
made pizza."  At the mention of pizza, Patrick's eyes got big and he
shook his head in disbelief.

"How the hell did she do that?  Where would she get the stuff to
make a pizza?"  

Bill shrugged again, a proud smile playing over his mouth at the
thought of his wife's innate determination.  When Tara wanted
something... whoo boy, watch out.  And she was a pizza hound; always
had been.  He grinned at his friend.

"My wife wanted a pizza.  That's all I know.  I was afraid to ask
her anything else..."  

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

"How many more minutes, Tara?  I'm dying over here!"  Scully sat on
the edge of her chair and shamelessly inhaled the aroma of baking
pizza.  It smelled glorious... and she was still amazed at Tara's
ability to make a feast like pizza out of almost nothing even
remotely pizza-related.  And it had all started with goat cheese... 

When Beverly knocked on Scully's door a few mornings ago with a
block of white goat's cheese wrapped in cloth, Scully's first
instinct had been to refuse it.  Her stomach was especially delicate
in the morning and the pungent cheese had just about wiped her out. 
She'd tried to beg off politely, claiming she had lactose
intolerance.  Beverly had seen right through her and had pressed the
smelly cheese into her hands.

"Don't give me that, Dana.  You need dairy and so does the baby. 
Goat cheese is better than cow cheese for pure protein and calcium.
If you bake the cheese it goes very bland - really it does.  Take it -
and eat some every day."  With a smile and a pat on her very slightly
rounded tummy Beverly had taken herself off.  Scully had stared down
at the odiferous package in her hand, feeling herself going a little
green around the gills...  Three minutes later she was pounding on
Tara's door.

Tara was sympathetic about the smell... that was about it.  After
she dragged her pasty-faced sister-in-law into the house and made her
sit down on a kitchen chair Tara had unwrapped the cheese and
crumbled some of it, biting into a piece and declaring if one could
get past the smell, it was damn good cheese.  Scully had scoffed.

"It smells like old toes, Tara... not that I go around sniffing
them, either.  But I'd be willing to bet they'd smell like goat
cheese. I could never get it past my nose to eat it."  Tara had
stared her down, a gleam of challenge in her eyes.

"If I could make this cheese into something not only edible but
delicious, Dana... would you at least eat a little?  You need it.  I
haven't seen you drink a single glass of milk, and calcium tablets
only do so much.  I know goat's milk is potent stuff, and I know how
you feel about milk unless it's loaded with Hershey's syrup."  Scully
had the grace to blush, but she glared at Tara, before eyeing the
cloth-wrapped cheese.  Well, she couldn't deny that she'd really
missed eating the stuff...  she sighed.

"Okay, you're on, Tara..."

Now Tara opened up the old oven and extracted a hot, fragrant pizza
she'd baked on a cookie sheet.  Both women salivated at the smell of
their favorite food.  Tara set it on the counter to cool and Scully
stared at it, amazed that her sister-in-law had actually found a way
to do this.  Considering they had no ingredients anywhere in the
village for standard pizza...

Or so they'd thought.  

Mulder burst through the door with his nose in the air, sniffing for
all he was worth.  Hot on his heels came Michael and Bill, with
Patrick closing in fast.  The men folk stopped short at the sight of
a hot bubbling pie cooling on the old cracked counter in Tara's
kitchen... Mulder was almost drooling.  He grabbed his brother-in-
law's wife around her narrow waist and bent her backwards over his
arm in a dramatic swoon, growling, "You're my kind of woman, Tara
Scully..."  

Tara laughed at his goofy antics and demanded to be released, while
Bill grabbed a knife and started slicing.  He called encouragingly to
his wife's captor as he cut.

"Keep her busy, Mulder - or she'll eat all the pizza and we won't
get any..."

Twenty minutes later there wasn't a crumb left, and Scully was
patting her stuffed belly and burping delicately behind her napkin. 
Bill lolled on a kitchen chair and groaned out loud. 

"Damn, Pat... why'd you let me eat so much?"  Pat snorted as he
chugged the last of his water.

"Like I could stop you, Man..."  Tara grinned at all of them and
stood up to dump their dishes in the sink; as she passed her husband
she was snagged and pulled onto his knees and hugged tightly.  Bill
rubbed his nose into her neck, making her squeal.

"Tara, as always I am humbled by your culinary talents... that was
one hell of a pizza.  And it breaks my heart that Walter and Mary
aren't here to share in this delight... all the more for us,
fortunately.  Now tell us what was in it."  

From across the room Scully chuckled, leaning back in Mulder's arms
as he snuggled with her on the little sofa.  Her mischievous eyes met
those of her sister-in-law's, and Tara shrugged and nodded.

"Go ahead - tell them."  Scully grinned and took a deep breath.

"Well, the cheese - that's easy to figure out, I'm sure. Beverly was
right; baking it does mellow it out a lot.  The sauce was made from
some home-canned tomatoes Beverly's cousin Bette had sent her from
Barrow.  The meat is reindeer sausage; Warren makes it every spring. 
And the crust is made from the sourdough starter Sarah gave us the
second day we were here... she told me it's from starter she'd kept
going for over thirty years."  Scully grinned again and nodded toward
the children's bedroom, where Matty and Meggie were napping.  She
added, "Whatever you guys do don't tell Matty you were eating
Rudolph!"

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


After about the fifth trip up to the hospital roof and back down,
Skinner and Mary were both exhausted.  They'd packed pieces of the
electron microscope as compactly as possible but it was obvious
they'd need to make another trip out for the rest of it.  

Leaning up against the wall of the elevator, Skinner toyed with the
idea of staying in town for the night rather than fly back in the
dark - and decided against it.  He didn't know Fairbanks at all, but
even if he'd been familiar with the place there was no way he'd make
Mary stay in town tonight.

Not with the overwhelming stench of death everywhere.

Fairbanks was in worse shape than a few short weeks ago when they'd
come through the town and stayed the night at the Regency Hotel.  The
dead littered the streets, the roads; abandoned cars were full of
them... buildings as well.  A thick dusting of new winter snow lay
over everything, giving it a deceptively pristine look - if one
didn't look too closely at the carnage under the snow.  It had been
especially hard on Mary, Skinner knew.  She was silent and stoic and
strong as she stepped over decomposing bodies, a hand clapped over
her nose and mouth - and she never complained as they carried loads
of scope pieces up to the roof and packed up the copter.  

When they could fit no more into the copter and still have room for
themselves, Skinner called it a night, and they took the elevator one
last time down to the scope room, to collect their heavy winter gear.
Mary stood stiff and resolute in the corner of the elevator, staring
at the floor as they moved down.  And Skinner found he couldn't take
it anymore; her silence was beginning to worry him.  From the moment
they'd stepped into the elevator on the roof, until that last load of
parts... she'd been tight-lipped and pale.  Skinner knew what had to
be going through her mind...

He moved over to the corner and reached out a hand to press into her
shoulder.  And at that warm touch Mary splintered.  She trembled and
shuddered and turned into the warm arms of the big man who made her
feel fragile and more of a woman than she'd ever felt in her life...
Her tears came thick and fast and boiling hot, drenching him.  Not a
problem; Skinner had wide shoulders.  

More than wide enough to absorb her pain... more than enough.

Skinner held her tightly and stroked a hand over her shining hair as
she sobbed it out in the elevator.  They hit the third floor and the
doors opened but they didn't get out - they stayed there and held
each other.  Mary cried - great, hitching sobs of residual pain -
pain that had not been released in so very long.  She cried for her
mother, still fallen in the greenhouse of the pretty little church
and rectory where she'd lived most of her life, in what she had
always considered a safe haven from any storm.  She cried for all of
her brothers and sisters and their families; for the baby nephews and
nieces she'd never meet and for the future they would never have. 
She cried for the life of her husband, cut short even though when his
time had come he'd been engaged in the work he loved the best...
instead of the hapless victim of an inhuman menace.

Mary Honea cried.

Walter Skinner held her and in a broken rasp of a voice promised her
she'd never be alone again in her life; promised her he'd take care
of her and her father regardless of where life took them.  And Mary
clung to that promise as tightly as she clung to Skinner - responding
fully when he cradled her face in his big hands, and covered her
cheeks with soft healing kisses, before he swept her more fully into
his arms and kissed her deeply.  The way he'd wanted to kiss her, for
weeks... the way a man kisses a woman that he adores.   

All the death and decay of innocent lives taken so cruelly was
temporarily forgotten, as they kissed with increasing passion.  Mary
found herself pinned against the elevator wall, trapped between the
cool metal and Skinner's hot skin.  She clutched at his flannel shirt
and hung on as her world tilted dizzily.  She had not expected
this... had not thought it possible to need this, yet.  Her body was
more than ready for it, though - even if her heart and emotions were
not.

For Skinner the desire had come upon him so quickly that he'd been
able to do little more than just react.  He'd gone from comforter to
would-be ravisher, zero to sixty in about one second flat.  Before
his brain could scream at him to proceed with a little finesse he'd
wedged a hard knee between Mary's slender thighs, and had pressed
into her softness with demanding insistence.  He groaned into her
mouth and molded her body to his, big hands gripping her low on her
back, holding her away from the wall and into the curve of his need. 
The kiss went on and on, now hard, now gentle; tongues curling and
mating... dueling for dominance and then tasting with delicate
precision.  

God... it had been so long since a man had kissed her like this...

Jesus... he couldn't remember the last time a woman had made him
respond to a kiss like this...

And it would have lasted forever, but they had to breathe.  And when
they broke apart to gulp in needed oxygen, they also inhaled the
persistent stagnant poison of colonization... which brought them both
to their respective senses as nothing else could have done.  Mary
buried her face in Skinner's chest and choked out a coughing sob. 
Wordlessly he held her head and whispered comforting nonsense as she
shuddered with lingering desire and despair.  

Finally she sniffled one last time and raised tear-ravaged eyes to
his, whispering hoarsely, "Walter... I am so sorry... I don't mean to
lead you somewhere I am not ready to go, yet.   Forgive me..."  She
made to pull away and Skinner held her fast, shaking his head and
tenderly cupping her wet cheek.

"I should be the one apologizing to you, Mary.  I know you're not
ready for this.  I could have used some couth."  He stared into her
drenched eyes and gently kissed each one closed, before adding, "Just
know this.  When you are ready for me... I'll be here.  As long as it
takes.  Okay?"  Mary trembled out a smile and nodded, relieved and
touched to her soul at the overwhelming kindness and generosity of
this wonderful man.

"Okay..."

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

Jon Honea had sharp eyes, for an old man who needed glasses but was
too stubborn to wear them.  

He had lived by the shrewdness of his eyesight and the wisdom of his
ancestors, for many years.  That insight had made him a strong Elder
and the leader of his congregation in Whitehorse, at a relatively
young age.  It had also afforded him an intuition where his loved
ones were concerned.

In particular his treasure, Mary.

Jon's pride in his youngest daughter was fierce, on many different
levels.  She'd worked her way through college, attending the
University of Alaska Southeast while working full-time for the state
legislative office in Juneau.  She'd helped build her brother James'
log home, just outside of Juneau proper - and she'd helped deliver
Michael when she was still in nursing school.  She was brave and
loyal and so strong it made his heart ache to think of it; of that
dark time just a year ago when her strength was put to the test in
the worst possible way...

Jon Honea had tried to imagine what his beloved child had been
forced to endure that black day when Calvin died.  He had never been
able to fathom the pain of it... never.  The trapping trip which had
started out so promising... the happy trek around Delta Lake, setting
their traps and enjoying their time together out in Nature's
bounty... the horrible !snap! of the steel bear trap as it slipped
out of Calvin's gloved hands when he tripped over the heavy bolt
chain and fell on it just as it clamped shut on his leg.  The
hopelessness Mary must have felt as her husband slipped in and out of
consciousness and her physical strength was nowhere near enough to
pry the trap jaws open.  

The awful knowledge that to save his life she would have to sever
his leg... and the weary hopelessness of dragging her bleeding
husband through the woods, up to the main road - knowing his life was
draining from him with every tug on his battered body.

Jon Honea remembered the telling of it, there in the hospital when
he'd cradled his sobbing daughter in his arms and felt helpless to
ease her suffering as she blamed herself for her husband's death. 
Trapping accidents happened all the time - this he'd told her. 
Trapping was dangerous work - especially bear trapping.  Calvin had
been trapping for years; he knew all the risks.  So did Mary.  In the
end it hadn't mattered.  Mary became a widow at twenty-nine... and a
vital part of her died that day.

Now, Jon Honea saw a rekindling of what she'd lost a year ago.  It
was subtle and well hidden... but Jon had sharp eyes.  

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

"Mary, love... come to me."  Jon Honea sat up in bed and struggled
to place a pillow behind his head.  He'd been dozing lightly, toying
with the decision to get up a bit early and begin work on the sermon
he planned on delivering before the Sunday Gathering.  Their third
Sunday, and it had been a rousing success.  Everyone came and
listened, and everyone stayed for the fellowship.  It was wonderfully
heartwarming - and had given Jon new purpose.  He found himself eager
to rise early and pore through his Bible for just the right wording
and the best lesson he could create.

Mary entered the bedroom in time to help her father push the pillows
up enough for him to sit, and he thanked her with a smile as he
straightened the covers, and caught at her hand when she would have
left again.

"Sit with me a moment, Daughter... I want to talk to you."  He
patted the bed and Mary smiled as she nodded and sat close to her
father, holding his gnarled hand.  Jon looked into his child's eyes,
searching for that subtle rekindling - seeing it - and nodding in
satisfaction when he spotted it.  Mary caught the nod and her
eyebrows quirked in curiosity.

"What's on your mind, Dad?  You feeling all right?"  Mary placed her
free hand on her father's forehead and Jon caught that hand as well,
hanging onto both of them.  He nodded again, reassuring her.

"I feel very well, child.  Better than I have felt in a long time. 
But I have been awake this morning, since before you got up. 
Thinking about my sermon for Sunday, piecing together the lesson I
want to give everyone.  I thought perhaps you might not mind
listening to me and seeing if you think it makes sense."  He watched
her with those shrewd eyes, and Mary smiled and squeezed his hands
gently.

"Dad, you know I love to listen to your sermon plans and help you.
Tell me your ideas."  She made herself more comfortable on the bed
and gave Jon her full attention.  He looked up at the ceiling for a
moment, as if collecting his thoughts - then he spoke.

"I wanted to comment on the precious rarity of life, Mary - in these
times of ours it is more rare than ever, I think.  My soul is old and
tired, Daughter - it has seen its share of sadness and pain.  As have
we all..."  Jon watched his daughter's eyes grow cloudy with a shade
of that pain, and he stroked his thumb over her palm tenderly as he
continued.

"I think I want to tell our friends that life is a most wonderful
gift - and we should never spend a second of it in wasteful
occupations.  That we should gather for ourselves whatever measure of
happiness can be taken and rejoice in the renewal of love and the
resurgence of the passions found within our hearts."  Jon Honea held
his daughter's widening, suddenly comprehensive gaze, as she absorbed
and processed his words.  Her lips parted but no words came out.  Jon
chuckled a little at her shock, and added, "It has been a year,
Daughter - the season to mourn is over.  You have a chance at a new
life with a man who loves you - and that season is now just
beginning.  I want you to take what you need, with my blessing."  

Mary frowned and shook her head in disbelief, murmuring, "How did
you... never mind. Dad - I am not finished with the mourning time!  I
have another year -" Jon raised a finger and pressed it to her lips
and her words faded into nothing as he replied with a smile.

'No, Mary.  You have mourned enough.  I am your father as well as
your Elder.  It is my decision to change the traditions, if I desire -
and I choose to do just that. Take your happiness, child - for no one
deserves it more than you do."  He let go of her hands and held out
his arms, gathering his precious daughter close to his heart.  And
when she laughed into his neck he laughed with her... and when he
felt a warm tear dampen his cheek, Jon Honea was never sure if it
came from her eye - or his.  

It didn't matter... not at all.

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

~ Chapter Twenty-Five ~


Mulder yawned and stretched, rolling his head against the pillows to
find Scully's side of the bed empty.  She had continued to struggle
with nausea over the last few weeks.  Worriedly glancing toward the
bathroom, he saw that the door was open and the room was empty. He
could hear the quiet clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen and he
frowned as he glanced at his watch.  It was only six o'clock in the
morning.  He slipped out of bed and made a quick trip to the bathroom
before going into the kitchen to find out what had Scully up and
about so early in the day.

He crept quietly out of the bedroom and leaned against the wall for
a moment, watching her from behind.  She was facing the counter and
he couldn't see what had captured her attention so thoroughly.  She
had stolen one of his flannel shirts when they had first arrived in
Mt. Vu'luk, commandeering it for a pajama top - and she was wearing
it this morning with a pair of blue thermal leggings.

She looked adorable, especially from this sweet view... Mulder
cleared his throat so as not to startle her, and called to her in a
voice still gravelly from sleep.

"Morning," he said softly.  All of his precautions not to startle
her failed and she shrieked softly, spinning around to face him with
one hand clapped over her heart.  She lowered her hand from her chest
and braced both hands behind her on the countertop.

"Jesus, Mulder!" she admonished.  "You nearly scared me to death!" 
Mulder narrowed his eyes as he studied her from the doorway.  He was
reasonably sure she was hiding something behind her as she kept a
death grip on the countertop.  He sauntered across the room, intent
on finding out what was back there.

"Whatcha doing up so early?" he inquired in a low voice.  Scully
tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head.

"Nothing," she told him.  He watched her shift slightly to the left
and pull herself to her full height and he suppressed a smile as he
stalked her across the room.

"Really?  Because I usually have to drag you out of bed," he told
her.  He inched closer and she continued to hold her ground, blocking
the counter and trying to look casual.

"I just couldn't sleep this morning," she said.  "Indigestion," she
said, patting her stomach, hoping to divert him with a pitiful look. 
Instead, she succeeded only in looking guilty.  Mulder pursed his
lips and made a sympathetic sound.

"Poor baby," he crooned.  He pasted a look of concern on his face
and was more successful in fooling her because she let down her guard
slightly, thinking that he had believed her.

"I just came out here to get something to drink," she said as she
continued her story.  She looked over his shoulder toward the
bedroom.  "Why don't you go back to bed," she suggested.  "I'll be
right there," she promised with a hopeful look on her face.  Mulder
nodded, fighting to keep his face bland, and began to turn toward the
bedroom.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scully move away from
the counter and he spun back around, feinting to the left and
slipping between her body and the counter.

"What's this?" he crowed as he looked down.  Scully pushed against
his chest, forcing him back from the counter.  She huffed out an
irritated breath or two.

"It's your birthday cake, you brat.  I wanted to surprise you with
it - cake in bed," she told him in an injured tone.  Mulder looked
down at the cake and then back up at Scully.  He had lost track of
the days and had completely forgotten it was his birthday.

"Did you bake this morning?" he asked, wondering how he could have
possibly slept through the production of a cake baking in the house. 
Scully rolled her eyes.

"Of course not," she told him.  "I told Mary yesterday that it was
your birthday and we went back to her cabin to bake this.  I snuck it
into the kitchen last night while you were reading and I got up early
this morning to finish it."  

Mulder was unbearably touched, as he looked down at the small cake. 
A thick layer of raspberry preserves and whipped cream was sandwiched
between two sponge cakes.  A generous dollop of preserves and extra
cream decorated the top of the cake as well.  He stuck out one finger
and scooped up a tiny bit of the topping. Slipping his finger into
his mouth he moaned as the sweet cream and sticky preserves rolled
over his tongue.  He really was touched - somehow Scully had found a
way to make goats' cream taste like regular whipped cream...

"Mmmm," he sighed.  Scully smiled at his groan of ecstasy.  Mulder
sucked the last of the cream from his finger and regarded his wife
with melting appreciation, commenting, "I can't even remember the
last time I tasted anything that sweet... present company excepted,
of course."  He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and Scully
laughed out loud at his silliness.  She pointed to the chair in front
of him.

"Why don't you sit down at the table," she said.  "Since you're up,
we might as well eat now."  She rooted through a drawer and pulled
out a knife.  Mulder grabbed her wrist in his hand and took the knife
from her.  He sliced two generous pieces of the cake and slid them
onto a plate.  Setting down the knife, he picked up the plate and
caught her fingers with his other hand.  Tugging her along behind
him, he looked over his shoulder at her, calculated seduction written
all over his face.  Scully shivered as his reply floated back to her
ears.

"I like your original plan better," he said softly. And with her
heart thumping against her chest she hurried to keep up as her
husband's long strides ate up the distance to the bedroom.  

Mulder set the plate down on the nightstand and slid under the
blankets, propping his back on the pillows mounded against the
headboard.  He patted the empty space on the mattress next to him and
held up the covers invitingly.  Scully cocked her head to one side
and slipped into the bed, crawling over the mattress to straddle his
legs.  Smiling into his surprised face, she lifted the plate from the
nightstand and held it between them.

"Comfy?" he asked archly.  Scully nodded and broke off a piece of
cake.  Licking whipped cream from her thumb she nodded.

"Very," she told him as she nibbled on another piece of cake. 
Mulder smiled and the two of them made quick work of the decadent
breakfast.  A small dollop of the cake's filling remained on the
plate and Scully scooped it up with two fingers.  Leaning forward,
she held it out to him and Mulder's lips closed over her fingers as
she slipped the confection into his mouth.  He sucked the preserves
and whipped cream from her fingers until each digit was thoroughly
cleaned.  

"Delicious," he whispered.  Scully studied him through half-closed
eyes and she leaned forward and closed her mouth over his.  His lips
parted on a sigh and her tongue slipped inside to rub against his. 
He tasted of berries and cream and Mulder and she slid up his thighs
to settle more comfortably into his lap.  He breathed out a groan as
she pressed down into him.

"Happy Birthday, Mulder," she murmured against his lips.  She could
feel the stirrings of his arousal beneath her and she squirmed in his
lap to encourage him to reach his full potential.

Mulder groaned again as his hips bucked upward, his erection seeking
her through the layers of flannel and cotton.  "Since it's my
birthday," he gasped against her mouth, "do I get to choose how we
spend it?"  

Scully slipped her fingers under the long-sleeved T-shirt he was
wearing to run her hands over his smoothly muscled chest.

"No," she whispered as she trailed moist lips over his bristled
chin, her tongue darting out to explore and taste the sensitive skin
just below his jaw.  "But I told Mary that I might be late getting to
the clinic this morning."  She lightly bit down on his earlobe as she
spoke.  Mulder shivered and slipped his hands under the flannel shirt
she wore, tracing the curve of her spine as she reveled in his touch.

Leaning back, with Mulder tracking her every move, Scully began to
unfasten the row of buttons that marched down the front of her shirt.
She shrugged her shoulders and the shirt slipped down her arms to
pool across the blanket covering his lower legs.  The little stove in
the other room could not completely take the chill off of the bedroom
and Mulder watched with avid interest as the cool air washed over her
exposed flesh, tightening her nipples and raising gooseflesh along
her arms.  She rose up on her knees and hooked her fingers into the
waistband of her thermal pants, pushing them down her legs.  She
shifted her weight onto one knee and clutched his shoulder with her
hand for balance so that she could slide the other leg from the
thermals.  Her breast brushed close to Mulder's face with her
movements and he leaned forward to capture the sweet nipple between
his lips.  Scully's fingers wound into his hair, cradling his head as
he gently nuzzled her tender breast.  She pulled away with a
regretful sigh and finished wriggling out of her clothes.  Nude, she
settled back down onto his lap.

Scully had learned that Mulder enjoyed bringing all five senses into
play when they made love.  His fingers would skim lightly over her
flesh, his lips and tongue tasting as he breathed deeply of her
scent.  A tiny smile would curl his lips as he listened to her hoarse
cries of pleasure.  But most of all - Mulder liked to watch.  She
arched her spine a little and smoothed her hands over both breasts,
fingers toying with her damp nipples. 

Mulder emitted a harsh gasp, feeling himself twitch beneath her.  He
clenched his hands upon her hips and muttered, "You are such a tease,
baby... I like it."

His impudent wife merely smiled, and wriggled upon him again, for
good measure.

Mulder's hands relaxed on the rounded curve of her hips as his eyes
drank their fill of her naked form perched in his lap.  It might be
too soon to tell, but he thought he could detect the early signs of
her body changing as their child grew inside her womb.  Surely her
breasts were heavier, riper - and didn't he detect just the slightest
thickening of her tiny waist?  His fingers slid from her hips and he
measured her waist between his hands, skimming over her ribcage to
delicately cup her breasts in his palms.  He leaned forward and
pressed a tiny, affectionate kiss to the ripe tip of each breast as
he peered up into her shining eyes.

"I don't have a birthday present for you," she said as she again
arched into his touch.  He shook his head against her breast and his
voice was muffled as his tongue traced patterns over the tiny blue
veins visible beneath the milky, white flesh.

"Everything I could ever want," he said as he slipped one hand over
her belly and dipped the other hand between her legs, "is right here."

Scully moaned and her head fell back onto her shoulders as his
clever fingers danced over her hot, wet flesh.  Her fingers clutched
the cotton covering his arms as he drove her up higher and higher. 
The muscles in her legs tightened and she could feel the tension
coiling low in her belly.  She panted as the pressure built and
built, finally breaking - and she fell forward, trembling, burying
her face in the curve of his throat.  

She felt his fingers slow and the occasional press of his thumb
against her caused her body to shiver.  She lifted her face from its
hiding spot and pushed back skeins of damp, tangled hair from her
face.

"Hey - it's your birthday.  I'm supposed to be making love to you,"
she told him, unable to muster up even the smallest note of regret as
tiny jolts of pleasure continued to pulse through her.  Mulder shook
his head as he leaned forward and licked each nipple gently.

"There's time," he told her as he smiled into her eyes.  She nodded
and grasped the hem of his T-shirt in her hands, dragging it up his
chest and over his head.  She threw it onto the mattress and buried
her face back into the curve of his throat, her tongue swirling over
the pulse that was beginning to beat a little more quickly beneath
her wandering mouth.

Once again her body settled over his, her lips rubbing against him
before drawing his lower lip into her mouth to suckle daintily on it.
Her tongue traced over the little crease below his lip and she
wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, rubbing her tender breasts
lightly against his chest and scraping her cheek over the bristled
roughness of his.

Her hands trailed over his shoulders and down his chest, her fingers
playing with the hair sprinkled lightly over his belly.  She toyed
with the drawstring of his pajama bottoms before tugging at the knot.
She rose up onto her knees and Mulder eagerly arched his hips from
the bed as she tugged the flannel down and off his legs.  

Scully's lips burned a path down his chest and her tongue slid out
to tease the soft, sensitive skin of his stomach.  She wrapped strong
fingers around him, testing the strength and mapping the length of
his hardened flesh.  She shifted to lay between his legs, nestling
her cheek against the velvety skin covering his erection.  "It's your
birthday, Mulder," she whispered to him.  "How do you want it?"  She
turned her head and her tongue darted out to lap up the tiny bead of
moisture that had welled up on the smooth head of his penis.  

Mulder groaned, his hips twitching under her teasing mouth and
fingers, and he grabbed at her shoulders with desperate hands.

"In you," he panted. "I want to be inside of you."  Scully's breath
caught at the raw look of need etched on her husband's face and she
crawled up the length of his body to kiss him soundly.  Then she
straddled his hips with her knees and reached for his hand.  Wrapping
his own fingers around his hot, silky flesh, she braced her palms on
the mattress on either side of him and stopped, poised over his body.
Mulder settled his other hand on her hip as he guided himself to her
damp heat.  He sucked in a breath as she sank slowly... so slowly
along his length until at last he was deeply imbedded within her. 
God... nothing could ever feel this good.  Since her pregnancy had
begun to make changes in her body he felt how much tighter she'd
become.  Tighter... wetter.  Hotter...

"Shit," he hissed as she impaled herself on him.  His head fell back
against the pillows behind him and he watched through hooded eyes as
Scully rose onto her knees again, sliding up his length until he
almost slipped out of her before pushing back down.  She rose and
fell above him in a slow, steady rhythm and her hair swished forward
as she labored above him.  Mulder scraped the silky locks away from
her face so that he could see the flush creeping over her cheeks and
watch her eyes darken and dilate as the pleasure mounted again.  

Scully lifted her hands from the bed and braced them against the
quivering muscles of his stomach.  His open-mouthed breathing was
harsh in the early morning stillness of their bedroom and she picked
up her pace, rising and falling more quickly, grinding her hips into
his every time she sank down onto him.

His eyes were now mere slits of hazel and he rolled his head against
the pillow as the ecstasy built.  His fingers and toes tingled and he
knew it wouldn't be much longer.  "Can't wait," he ground out through
clenched teeth.  Scully leaned toward him and buried her lips in his
neck.

"Don't wait," she murmured against his damp flesh.  "Don't wait,"
she moaned again, "I'm almost there..." as she bit down on the tendon
running along the side of his neck. 

Mulder dug his heels into the mattress and lifted his hips from the
bed, grinding himself into her, panting, shuddering, and crying out
her name as waves of gratification flowed through him.

Scully's hands were braced on his shoulders as she rocked over him. 
Her movements grew erratic and he sank his fingers into the soft
flesh of her hips, helping her maintain her rhythm until she gasped
softly, her body clenching around him like a tiny fist before she
sank limply against him.

They clutched each other's damp bodies with weakened limbs until
their breathing slowed.  Scully nestled her cheek into the hollow of
his throat as her body periodically clenched and pulsed around him. 
She raised her head and their mouths met in a long, slow mating of
lips and teeth and tongues.  They parted breathlessly and Mulder
moved suddenly, rolling Scully beneath him and rising up above her. 
Her eyes widened as she felt him stir with renewed interest against
her heated flesh.

"Not bad for a forty-year-old," he groaned against her temple as he
drove into her again.  With her last remaining spurt of energy Scully
wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed.

'Not bad'? She sighed as she met the languid thrust of his hips. 
Actually, it was pretty damn good....

The best.

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


Scully closed the medical reference book she had been studying and
stacked her notes in a neat pile.  She couldn't concentrate with the
racket that Bill and Patrick were making as they began to reassemble
the electron microscope in the examination room down the hall.  She
pushed her chair back and stood, snatching her parka from a hook on
the back of the office door.  

Poking her head into the room at the end of the hall, she caught her
brother's attention.  "Hey Bill," she called.  He looked up and
pushed his hair out of his eyes.  "How is it going?" she asked.  

Bill straightened and planted his hands on his hips as he looked
around the room at the various pieces of the dismantled microscope. 
"We figure it's going to take about..." he paused and turned to look
at the other man who was sitting on the floor studying the notes he
had made when they had taken the microscope apart back in Fairbanks. 
"What's our best guess, Patrick?" he asked.  The dark haired man
glanced up and surveyed the scattered pieces of the microscope.  He
knew that it looked like complete chaos in the room, but he and Bill
had very carefully laid out each piece of the broken down equipment
so that they would be able to reassemble it in the quickest possible
way.  Patrick scratched his head and tucked a pencil behind his ear.

"About two days," he said, looking up at Scully.  She nodded and
fought down a sigh at the delay.  Well, she thought, she wasn't
actually ready to use the microscope anyway.  First things first...

"Do you know where Mulder is?" she asked as she tugged her parka on
and zipped it up.  Bill didn't look up as he struggled to lift a
piece of the equipment and move it against the wall.  

"I think I saw him and Walter heading out toward the barn," he
grunted as he pushed the heavy piece of machinery out of the way. 
Scully watched for another moment as he and Patrick consulted their
notes again before spinning around and heading for the door.  She
needed to find Mulder.

Scully tugged the hood of her parka over her head and pushed open
the door of the clinic, stepping out into the cold.  She was still
trying to acclimate to a world without sun.  Mary had explained that
would stay completely dark like this for a couple of months and then
the sun would begin to creep back out for short periods until the
summer months when they would have eighty-seven days of constant
sunlight.  Scully shook her head.  She didn't know that she would
adjust to that any easier than she was getting used to this
unrelenting darkness.  She hurried through the village intent on
tracking down her husband.  

She stepped into welcoming warmth of the barn and stopped near the
goats' pen.  She leaned over the rail as the youngest of the small
herd ambled toward her on its spindly little legs.  Scully laughed as
the baby goat pushed its wet nose into her hand, looking for
something to eat; she scratched its head lightly.  

"Hey sweetie," she whispered as she gave the little goat a final pat
on the head.  "I'll see you later."  She straightened and followed
the sound of voices to the back of the barn where she found Mulder
and Walter chopping wood.  Both men had stripped down to the long-
sleeved T-shirts they had been wearing under their flannel shirts and
she watched Mulder lift the axe over his head and swing it down in a
smooth, powerful arc, splitting the wood into two pieces.  He dropped
the axe and leaned down to scoop up the splintered pieces of wood. 
As he straightened, he caught sight of his wife waiting and watching.
Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold and he couldn't resist
walking over and stealing a kiss.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" he asked as he pressed
his overheated cheek against the refreshing coolness of hers.  Scully
wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.  She
stretched up on her toes to peer over his shoulder, addressing her
comments to their former boss.

"Can I steal him for a few minutes, Walter?" she asked sweetly.  "I
need his help at the clinic."  Skinner nodded and waved a dismissive
hand toward them as he set another log down on the chopping block. 

"Take him for as long as you need," he offered.  "I might actually
get some work done if I don't have to listen to his constant
chattering."  Skinner's words were serious but his eyes were laughing
as he watched an indignant look spread over the younger man's face.

"Hey!" Mulder protested.  "I did my fair share," he said as he
jutted his chin toward the large pile of wood stacked in the corner
of the barn.  "Half of that is mine," he told his wife earnestly. 
Scully smiled and held out his parka.

"I'm sure you've been working very hard," she said soothingly. 
"It's all very manly and rugged and if I didn't need your help at the
clinic, I'd take you home and have my way with you," she said as she
pulled him toward the barn door.  They left the warmth of the barn
behind and Mulder crowded close to Scully, trying to steer her toward
their cabin.

"We have to pass the house on the way to the clinic."  He pointed
toward the small structure of their cabin less than a hundred yards
away.  "I can be fast," he said hopefully.  Scully twisted away from
his grasping hands and headed toward the clinic.  She turned around
and was walking backwards, laughing when Mulder stopped in his tracks
and continued to stubbornly point toward their cabin with a hopeful
expression on his face.  

"You know Mulder, that's not really a selling point," she told him
loftily.  Mulder pressed his lips together and glanced again toward
their cabin before shifting his gaze back to her and then beyond to
the clinic.  Suddenly he broke into a run and sprinted toward her. 
Scully's eyes widened as she spun around and raced toward the clinic.
She could hear his heavy footfalls in the snow behind her and she
shrieked as a strong arm caught her around the waist, lifting her
from her feet.  She was laughing as he set her back down and her lips
curved against his as he clutched the fur trim of her hood in his
fists and pulled her into his kiss.  His mouth moved hungrily over
hers and she melted into his embrace.  Mulder lifted his head and
peered down into her eyes and grinned.  He pressed his mouth to hers
in a final, smacking kiss and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as
they walked back to the clinic.

They passed the room where Bill and Patrick were laboring over the
microscope and Mulder grinned when a particularly inventive stream of
cursing coming from his brother-in-law's lips followed the sound of
crashing metal.  Scully closed her eyes and shook her head painfully
as she listened to Bill mutter under his breath and she prayed that
whatever it was he dropped was neither vital nor broken.

Scully shrugged out of her parka and pushed open the door to the
other examination room.  Mulder followed her and poked his head
through the door.  "What do you need?" he asked as he looked around
the room.  Scully patted the examination table and began to root
through the cabinets under the countertop.  Her voice was muffled as
she poked her head into one cabinet.  

"I need a blood sample," she told him.  She stood up and pushed her
hair out of her eyes as she slapped several pieces of equipment down
onto the countertop.  Mulder pulled off his coat and threw it over a
chair in the corner of the room.  Hopping up onto the table, he began
to push up the sleeve of his shirt.  His eyes widened as she carried
a small plastic bag and a length of tubing over to the table.

"Um... Scully - how much blood do you need?" he asked as she set the
materials down next to him.  She tore open a sterilized alcohol wipe
and rubbed it over the inside of his elbow.

"I have the oil that I took from Ty when he died, in the freezer,"
she told him.  "Hopefully, I'll be able to use the oil to produce the
vaccine," she said.  "But I still need blood samples from you and
me."  She tied a strip of rubber tightly around his upper arm and
urged him to lie back on the padded table.  "I also have several
vials of Ty's blood stored," she said.  "We were each infected in
different ways," she reminded him.  "You were originally exposed
directly to the black oil in Russia and reinfected by a bee
sting," she murmured as she bent over his arm.  "I was infected by a
bee sting and was given the vaccine."  Mulder winced as she pushed
the needle into his arm.  "And Ty was exposed to the virus through a
contaminated food product," she concluded as she pressed several
pieces of adhesive tape over the needle and tubing to hold it in
place.  She handed Mulder a small piece of wood and instructed him to
squeeze it periodically to increase the output of blood.

Scully hung the bag that was slowly filling with Mulder's blood on
the side of the bed and fussed with the tubing, making sure there
were no kinks in it.  "Can't you make the vaccine from our blood?"
Mulder asked curiously.  Scully shook her head.

"No.  Our blood most likely contains antibodies against the virus,"
she told him.  "But I need to find a way to weaken or kill the virus
itself.  Once I manage to do that, I can use the weakened pathogen to
hopefully create a vaccine.  An inoculation is essentially a weakened
strain of the virus that is injected into the patient to stimulate
the production of antibodies against the virus."  Mulder nodded and
glanced down at the needle protruding from his skin.

"So why do you need to take our blood?" he asked.  Scully gently
squeezed the bag hanging from the side of the bed and looked down
into her husband's eyes.  

"I want to see if the same antibodies are present in each blood
sample," she said.  "I need to compare them to find out if there are
different strains of the virus or if it just affects the victim
differently based on the method of infection."  She nodded toward the
tubing that was now bright red with Mulder's blood.  "I took several
vials of Ty's blood and now I'm taking about three-quarters of a pint
from you.  Hopefully, I won't need to ask you to do this again," she
told him.  

Mulder rolled his head against the tiny pillow at the top of the bed
and watched her.  "What about you?" he asked.  She smiled softly and
made a rueful face.

"I'm going to have Mary draw several samples of blood," she told
him.  "But I can't give too much blood at one time," she said as she
stroked a hand over her stomach.  Mulder nodded, watching as she
lifted the plastic bag to assess its contents.

"I think that's enough," she said a short while later, as she looked
at the nearly full bag.  She slipped the needle from his vein and
pressed a tiny piece of gauze over the puncture and pushed his
forearm toward his face.  "Hold your arm like this," she instructed
as she gathered up the plastic bag and the tubing.  She sealed the
bag and placed it into the refrigerator.  She then coiled up the
tubing and dropped it into a trashcan labeled 'hazardous material'. 
Scully absently wiped several drops of Mulder's blood from her hands
and leaned against the examining table.

"Shouldn't you have worn gloves?" Mulder asked with a ti