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 tiny note of
worry in his voice.  Scully smiled and leaned down so that her face
was close to his. 

"Mulder," she laughed.  "I've been exposed to a whole lot of your
bodily fluids lately," she said merrily.  "I don't think a couple of
drops of blood are going to hurt me."  He nodded, accepting the truth
of her words but then a look of fear crossed his face and he sat up
quickly.  He moved too quickly, for the room spun and he almost fell
from the table.

"Whoa," Scully chided as she pressed him back down onto the table. 
"You just gave blood, Mulder.  You need to lie still.  Where are you
going?" she asked in confusion as she stroked her fingers through his
hair.  Mulder's mind was racing with the memory of their having made
love only hours after he had been so sick from the bee sting.  He did
a quick calculation in his head and his eyes dropped to the tiny
swell of her stomach and then lifted again to her face.  He knew the
moment she made the connection when he saw the fear flash into her
blue eyes.

"Nooo," she breathed softly.  "It's not possible..."  Her breath
caught in her throat and she bit down hard on her lip as he curled a
protective hand over her belly.

"Scully, I think we need to schedule the ultrasound.  Soon."  His
eyes were dark with worry as he looked into his wife's fearful face. 
She leaned down and rested her head against his chest, taking comfort
from his warm arms wrapped around her.

"I'll talk to Mary," she whispered.


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


~ Chapter Twenty-Six ~


It was quiet in the room - too quiet.  Dead quiet like this always
made him nervous.  But he was afraid to speak, to do more than hold
on tightly to Scully's hand and send her whatever reassurances could
be absorbed through her skin.  If he spoke he might say the wrong
thing.  If he said one word it could jinx the procedure.

Jesus... how stupid was a thought like that?  Mulder sighed under
his breath and moved a little closer to the examining table where
Scully lay with her tummy exposed to the cool air, little shivers
running over her brought on by the gel Mary was spreading over the
small mound which held their child.

"Doing all right, Dana?"  Mary finished with the gel and reached for
the wand, placing it carefully in the center of the gel and moving it
around.  Scully nodded, trying to smile through the worry plainly
visible in her eyes.  She gripped Mulder's hand hard enough to cause
circulation stoppage, but he barely noticed.  He was too busy
watching in open-jawed amazement as a black and white and shades of
gray image of something living and breathing and making the oddest
swishing noise, appeared on that small monitor.  

Mulder stared at it.  At his child.  At the blip on the monitor that
signified his child.  He turned his head to the side and the image
turned a little as well, following the tilt of his regard. The tiny
movement of it up on that monitor... well, it worried him.  No, that
wasn't quite true.  It terrified him.  It was tiny and helpless and
unformed and looked nothing like a child.  

He wanted to look at Scully; look into her eyes.  He would trust
what he found in her eyes.  She was a doctor; she'd know how their
little one was supposed to look this early in the pregnancy and
showcased on the distorted surface of an ultrasound monitor.  She'd
know... and it would be there for him to see, in her blue eyes.  He
wanted to look into his wife's eyes.

He was scared shitless to seek out the truth in her eyes.  He locked
his gaze on the monitor, searching for something, anything
recognizable as human.  He squinted hard, forcing his eyesight into
odd manipulations.  In his urgency to find something normal he only
succeeded in creating something frighteningly unfamiliar.  He gripped
Scully's hand harder, his numbed ears barely hearing the small gasp
of discomfort she uttered at the bruising clasp of his fingers.  

Over the frantic buzzing in his ears, he heard Scully's intake of
breath; out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary point to a dark area
in the center of the tiny mass.  He didn't want to hear her soft
voice, explaining to them their child's genetic make-up.  He closed
his ears to it, but found he couldn't shut out all the sound.  He
wanted to... but he couldn't.  He needed to hear anything other than
the quiet sob from his wife's throat, barely audible in the silent
room with the odd swishing noises coming from the life being chased
around inside Scully's belly by a wand attached to a monitor.   At a
time when Mulder needed a noisy distraction the most, the muffled
silence of his immediate world was complete in its vacuum, except for
that one, little sob.

Mulder turned his head just a bit, enough to lock his eyes upon the
dark area where Mary pointed.  He swallowed around a dry lump in his
throat and forced the buzzing in his ears to dissolve enough to catch
the end of Mary's comment.

"... boy, maybe.  It's still very early and hard to see.  But
I think... right there..."  Mulder gripped Scully's poor hand so
tightly that her soft admonishment of, "Mulder, Oww..." actually
processed through him.  He eased up and sent an apologetic look her
way, which she returned with a smile.  A very normal, very lovely
Scully-smile... He could feel a widely inane grin forming in response
to that smile... and he turned to Mary and uttered a broken,
"Mary..."  

The reassurance in Mary's face almost knocked him to his trembling
knees.

"Mulder, it's all right, God I am sorry!  I had no idea you'd been
standing here all this time, thinking the worst!  It's normal-
looking, really it is!  Looks like every ultrasound I have ever
performed this early in a pregnancy.  Mulder... I have no doubt this 
is a healthy little fetus.  And it'll be several more weeks at the
very least before we know the sex for sure - so for now let's just
say there's a little Mulder in there, looking pretty damned good!"
Her smile increased into a full fledged grin as she witnessed the
new daddy's reaction to her happy news.

A baby... oh, Jesus.  Mulder sank to his knees next to Scully and
rested his forehead on her exposed hipbone and shuddered out her name
several times.  And she slipped her hand from his and ran it over the
back of his head soothingly as she whispered to him on a shaky breath.

"Hiya, Daddy..."  He raised eyes filled with glistening tears and
the hope in his heart ached and felt wonderful all at once.  He
kissed the palm now cupping his cheek and his words were just as
awestruck and relieved.

"Hiya, Mommy..."

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

In the midst of joining in the celebration of the new-found
happiness Dana's ultrasound had brought to her and Mulder, Mary found
herself miserable - and it was her own fault.

She was free to pursue a potential relationship with Walter.  Her
Elder who also happened to be her father, had given her his blessing.
She could walk to Walter's cabin, knock on the door and fling herself
into his arms.  She wanted to do just that, but she didn't.  

She was not avoiding him, she told herself.  She ignored her
father's sad, knowing eyes as they followed her about the cabin in
the evenings.  No.  She wasn't avoiding Walter.  She was simply too
busy.  Dana needed her help in the clinic as she began the first,
tentative steps towards creating the vaccine.  Her new friend was
suffering through the early weeks of pregnancy, plagued by nausea
that did not confine itself to the morning hours alone.  Mary felt it
her duty to ease Dana's burden in whatever way possible and so she
stuck close by, ready to lend a helping hand or a sympathetic ear
when necessary.

And in the evenings, surely Michael needed her attention and
affection and she made herself available to help him with his
homework and to share a hot, nourishing meal with him and Jon.  She
knew better than to try to hug and cuddle her twelve-year-old nephew,
but she always managed to sneak a kiss goodnight before sending him
to bed.  He was her last link to her beloved older brother and she
needed this time with him as much as she felt he needed it with her.

Any free time she had at the end of the day was spent puttering
around the cabin, putting away the dinner dishes that Michael would
wash and leave stacked in the drainer and making sure her father was
comfortably settled in his room, before she would retire for the
evening.  

Now, curled up in her lonely bed, her thoughts turned to her
husband.  Sweet, loving Calvin.  Second cousins who had known each
other as children, they had met again when she was twenty-four years
old.  Fresh-faced and eager to make a difference in the world, she
had just started working as an emergency room nurse in a hospital in
Whitehorse.  One day, near the end of a long shift, a handsome, young
trapper had arrived in the emergency room with the help of a friend. 
They didn't recognize each other in those first moments.  His hand
was wrapped in a bandana stained with blood and she had cleaned the
wound and assisted the doctor in stitching it closed.  It was as she
was wrapping a clean white bandage around his hand that she chanced a
glance up.  His dark, expressive eyes had caught and held hers and
from that moment on she was lost.  

His friend had been sent on his way with the assurances that he
would make it home safely.   Mary had driven Calvin home that evening
and they sat in her car talking for hours outside of his apartment
building.  It was there that they realized that there was already a
familial bond between them and they shared a sweet kiss before he
climbed out of her car.  Plans were made to see each other the next
day and less than a year later they had eloped.

Mary rolled over and clutched a pillow in her arms as her mind
lovingly traced over the memories of their life together.  A happy
marriage; Calvin had always been able to make her laugh.  Shortly
after their elopement, they had moved into a small apartment in
Whitehorse and Calvin had indulgently watched his tiny wife flit
about the rooms, draping gauzy fabrics over the windows and
decorating the rooms.  He had obediently hung pictures and moved the
furniture according to her exact specifications and at night they
would tumble into their bed to explore each other's bodies and to
whisper about their hopes and dreams and plans for the future.

They had agreed to wait before starting a family.  Mary wanted to be
able to stay at home with their children after they were born and at
the time she had been enjoying her work at the hospital and wasn't
ready to give it up.  Calvin wanted to save up enough money to buy a
small house before they started a family and so all of the proper and
necessary precautions were taken.

Four years later, when Mary stood over her young husband's grave and
threw that first clot of dirt onto the wooden lid of the coffin, she
felt as if she had thrown part of her heart down into that damp and
gloomy space.  She laid a trembling hand over her empty womb and
bitterly regretted their decision to wait.  He had left her alone and
her hopes for a dark-eyed child with his smile had been buried that
day as well.

She had loved other men before meeting Calvin, but on the day she
married him and again, on the day she buried her husband, she had
known that she would never love like that again.

She punched the pillow and stirred, restlessly kicking at the
confining covers.  She had been so sure that she would never find
love again.  Then into her life walked Walter Skinner.  Amidst the
destruction of her world he had strode in, big and confident and
strong.  And for the second time in her life, Mary found herself
drowning in the warm regard of a pair of dark eyes.

She wanted him.  But with her desires came a feeling of disloyalty
to the husband she had left behind in that cemetery a year earlier. 
For when she'd been with Walter, wrapped in his strong embrace, the
sweet memory of her Calvin faded and disappeared and she was consumed
by the intense need she felt whenever Walter was near.  She was not
sliding into a tender and gentle love as she had with Calvin.  These
feelings that she had - these cravings - for Walter were turbulent
and overwhelming.  

She was intensely aware of his eyes following her whenever she was
near him and she shivered at the memory of his hot mouth closing over
her lips as she'd rode the hard leg lodged between her thighs while
they had feverishly kissed in the elevator of the hospital in
Fairbanks.  A part of her wanted nothing more than to slip out of her
bed and hurry to Walter's cabin to lose herself in his embrace.  To
let his big hands slide over her body until all of the sadness and
fear and death and destruction surrounding her faded and there was
nothing left but lust and desire and sated bodies.

But Walter's eyes did not just follow her with lust and desire but
also with tenderness and comfort and something very, very close to
love.  He was waiting for her to come to him and while Mary sensed
that he would be patient and accepting, she knew that she had to come
to a decision.  Soon.

*********** 

Mary wiped her hands on a towel as she helped to gather up the
remains of the lunch for the Sunday Gathering.  She smiled fondly as
her eyes tracked over the gathering of villagers, both Inupiaq and
white.  They had settled into a rhythm now and friendships were being
made and solidified over hard work during the week and these few
hours of play set aside each Sunday.  Michael and Nanook were racing
up and down the halls of the building with Matty and Meg in fast
pursuit and she dodged the flying limbs of dog and children as they
wheeled past her.  Her father and Warren were seated on either side
of the checkerboard and the men had gathered around, good-naturedly
calling out suggestions to the players.  She saw Dana seated on the
sofa, surrounded by the women of their village, stoically enduring
the gentle touches on the small swell of her belly and the well-
meaning advice being heaped upon her.  Amid the social festivity Mary
knew that Walter had become aware of her presence from the moment she
set foot in the room, but she steadfastly avoided looking his way. 

She watched Mulder break away from the group of men in the corner by
the checkerboard and make his way across the room to where Dana
waited patiently for a rescue.  He murmured something to the women
about taking his wife home to rest.  The hot look in his eyes belied
the tender way in which he bundled her into her parka and their hasty
retreat told Mary that Dana would not be getting much in the way of
rest anytime soon.  She chanced a glance toward Walter and watched as
his eyes moved from the door though which Mulder and Dana had made
their escape - and lock onto hers.  He pushed away from the wall
where he had been leaning and began to make his way around the room,
bidding everyone goodbye as he took his leave.  His eyes slid over
her face and he inclined his head in an oddly formal bow.

"I'll see you later," he told her and he squeezed her hand as he
slid past her and down the hall toward the front door.  Mary leaned
shakily against the doorframe and long minutes passed before she came
to a decision.  Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw that it
was only half past two.  She knew from experience that the gathering
would go on for several more hours.  Whirling away from the room, she
snatched up her parka and hurried outside into the eternal darkness
that descended on the arctic in the winter and made her way through
the quiet village, reaching Walter's cabin in just a few minutes.
Tugging her mittens from her hands, she drew in a fortifying breath
and rapped her knuckles sharply against the door.  Seconds later the
door swung open and Walter stood imposingly in the doorframe.

"I..." She opened her mouth to say something but the words died in
her throat as his big hand reached out to yank her into the dimly lit
cabin.  The door slammed shut behind her and her breath caught as
Walter crowded her up against it.  She could feel the rough wood of
the door through the heavy layers of clothes and she pressed back
into it as he loomed over her.  His fingers tunneled into her thick
black hair and he tilted her face back to receive his potent kiss. 
His lips settled over hers and there was no gentleness, no shyness as
her mouth opened helplessly under his and his tongue pushed between
her lips.  Her arms curled around his neck and she strained up on her
toes to better meet his roving mouth.  They broke apart and Walter
lifted his face just enough to tilt his head the other way before
diving back down to taste her from another angle.  Mary's fingers
clenched in the collar of his shirt and she met him kiss for fierce
kiss.  

The room was quiet save the crackle and pop of the fire that Walter
had built moments before her arrival and the soft moans and sighs of
the two people locked in a scorching embrace against the door. 
Walter's hands moved between their bodies and he fumbled with the
buttons on her parka, roughly slipping them out of their holes.  He
pushed the heavy coat from her shoulders and it slid to the floor in
a rasping whisper.  His hands settled on the soft skin exposed by the
open collar of her shirt and he smoothed his fingers along the length
of her throat.  He cupped the fragile bones of her jaw in one hand
and tilted her face back.  He leaned down and his breath was a
whisper over her lips.

"If you don't want this, Mary, you'd better tell me now," he warned
raggedly.  Mary swallowed hard and he could feel the rough movement
against the hand still encircling her throat with gentle force.  He
watched her bite her lip before bravely meeting his eyes.

"I want this," she vowed.  "I want you."  Walter's breath broke from
him in a ragged cry that was muffled by her lips closing over his. 
Her tongue stroked into his mouth and flicked over his teeth before
enticing his tongue back between her lips.  His hands slid between
their bodies and curled into the soft flannel of her shirt.  His
fingers clenched as he tore the shirt open.  Buttons popped and flew
and Mary's breath caught in a moment of frightened excitement as he
pushed the tattered sides of her shirt away and lowered his head. 
His mouth brushed against her breast once, twice before he closed his
lips around one breast, his mouth tugging insistently on the rapidly
hardening nipple through the silk of her bra.  His arms banded around
her waist as her knees buckled and threatened to give way under his
ravenous assault.

Mary's hips tilted instinctively into his as his mouth moved over
her and she willed him to tear her bra away as well so that his hot
lips could settle over her bare flesh.  She groaned softly and her
head fell back against the door as he gently bit down on the upper
swell of her breast.  "Walter, please," she sobbed softly.  He lifted
his head and growled her name.  She was a wanton sight, her eyes
heavy-lidded with desire, her wild hair snagged on the coarse planks
of the door.  Her breasts swelled above the dark fabric of her bra
and her chest heaved as she struggled to pull air into her lungs. 
Walter gave half a thought to gathering her into his arms and
carrying her into his bedroom, but that would have taken much too
long... instead he bent forward to pop open the front clasp of her
bra and brush the cups away from her tender flesh.  Once again, her
hands clenched into his shoulders as she tensely awaited the touch of
his mouth on her soft skin.  He didn't make her wait long as he
lowered his head and closed his mouth over the rigid nipple.  His
hand skimmed along her ribs to cover her other breast and she arched
her back, pressing herself into the dual caress.  

Walter suckled and gently bit down on her exposed skin and he smiled
fiercely against her breast at her soft cry of distress when his hand
fell away from her.  Her anguished protest turned into a moan of
ecstasy as his fingers cupped her damp core through the weight of her
flannel-lined jeans.  Mary squirmed, grinding her sex into his hand
and she opened her mouth against his shoulder, biting him through his
shirt as his fingers massaged her aching flesh.  She tore at the
buttons of his shirt, fumbling in her haste, and finally buried her
lips against the solid warmth of his breastbone, her tongue rasping
roughly over the hardened nipple hidden in the sprinkling of hair
covering his chest.  Walter's hiss of reaction to her hungry mouth
was loud in the confines of the small cabin.

His hands dropped away from her to begin tugging at the fastening of
her jeans and she eagerly helped him pop open the metal button and
slide down the zipper.  He skimmed the denim down her legs, grunting
in frustration when they snagged on her boots.  She braced her hands
on his shoulders as he knelt to tug the boots from her feet and then
he stripped her, jeans and panties sliding down, taking her woolen
socks with them.  He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. 
Her eyes glimmered in the fire-lit room and her hair was a dark
tangle around her face.  He slipped his hands under the open sides of
her tattered shirt to cup her hips and buried his mouth between her
legs.  

Mary's body bucked and her head fell against the door with a thud as
he caressed her with lips and tongue.  He tugged her swollen clit
into his mouth and bit down gently and Mary cried out in response. 
Her fingers scrabbled for purchase against the rough wood of the door
as he lifted one of her thighs over his shoulder.  He slipped two
fingers between her legs, coating them in the evidence of her desire
before plunging them deep inside.  Mary bit off a scream and once
again he had to steady her with a firm grip on her hips.  He gently
set her foot back onto the floor and slowly stood, licking a path up
her body, pausing to suckle her breast into his wet mouth.  She felt
his hands moving between their bodies, heard the metallic click of
his belt being loosened and the rasp of his jeans as they slid down
his legs. She lifted dazed eyes to his and gasped as he gripped her
thighs in his strong hands, lifting her from the floor.  She threw
her arms about his neck, curled her legs around his waist and 
buried her face in his throat as she felt the rigid length of his
penis butting against her wet folds.  Her mouth opened and she bit
his jaw as he drove into her in one long stroke.

"Oh... God," she panted against his cheek.   Her breath whistled in
his ear as his hips pulled back slowly before he slammed back into
her.  He used his lower body to press her into the door and she
locked her ankles around his waist for balance as his hands slid up
to cup her face in his warm palms.

"So good," he murmured brokenly against her lips.  "You feel so...
ohhh!"  His voice was a husky groan as Mary ground her hips into his.
Walter's legs trembled as he drove relentlessly into her clinging
warmth.  He heard her ragged breathing in his ear as she chanted his
name in a throaty whisper.  He felt a quiver run through her body and
seconds later she tensed against him.  Her mouth was open and her
breathing came in choppy pants as her orgasm broke over her.  Mary's
inner muscles clenched and milked the flesh he'd buried deep inside
her and he whispered her name as he felt the tingling in his fingers
and toes spreading through his limbs signaling his own release. With 
a muffled roar, he emptied himself within her.

Mary's legs slid weakly from his hips and he leaned all of his
weight into her to keep her from sliding to the floor.  Sweat
glistened on his chest and shoulders and he could still feel the tiny
pulses of her body against him as her tongue darted out to lap at the
salty moisture pooled in the hollow of his throat.  She let out a raw
cry of displeasure as he slipped from her and he scraped her tangled
hair from her face.

Desire now sated, his lips moved tenderly over her flushed cheeks
and swollen mouth in a series of tiny kisses.  Mary gasped as he
swung her up into his arms and she smiled into his eyes as he
carefully carried her across the room, bearing her down onto the
carpet before the fire.  She struggled out of her torn shirt and lay
back against the soft nap of the carpet, holding her arms out. 
Walter sank to the floor beside her and gently stroked a finger along
her hairline, tracing the shape of her face.  Mary twined her arms
around his neck and pulled until he was stretched out on top of her. 
He braced his elbows on the carpet so as not to crush her, but Mary
wanted to feel the solid warmth of him, pressing into her.  She
wrapped her limbs around his body and drew his face to her breasts,
sighing when he allowed his full weight to rest upon her.  His open
mouth nuzzled between her breasts and his hoarse query was muffled
against her skin.

"Mary... God.  Mary."  He raised his head and those dark eyes of his
burned down into her soul as the words he spoke made her tremble
anew.  "I love you so.  I've wanted you for as long as I've known
you.  Maybe you're not fully ready for me, but I can accept whatever
you can give me - just stay with me, please just stay..."  His last
words were spoken into her mouth as he kissed her again, deeply and
adoringly; pleadingly.  

Mary felt tears well up and spill over her cheeks, wetting his lips
as they kissed her mouth and her face.  Stay with him... didn't he
know she would never let him go?  Not now... not after she'd given
everything to him.  Never...  She cupped her lover's neck in her warm
hands, soothing his heated skin, reassuring him as well as herself.

"Never, I'll never leave you, God I couldn't... I'm falling in love
with you, Walter... I need you so badly..." Her earnest gaze met his,
tears still standing in her eyes as he brushed a thumb across her
cheeks to catch the wetness there.  His sigh of relief was echoed in
the resurgence of his body against hers, and when her legs parted
invitingly he slipped between them, more than ready to show her in
actions meant to reaffirm his words.  Their eyes held as their bodies
merged, the movements they made against each other gentle and tender.
As different as could be compared to their first coming together -
and just as vital.  They linked fingers and pressed palm-to-palm as
they took full measure of a promise made and a bond meant to last
forever.

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

~ Chapter Twenty Seven ~


Early in December, Scully spent a long day at the clinic preparing
to begin her work on creating a vaccine against the alien virus.  The
first step would be to separate and identify the DNA sequences of her
blood as well as the blood she had taken from both Ty and Mulder
through a procedure known as a Southern blot.  The same procedure
would be performed on the black oil that she was keeping frozen in
order to render it inactive.

Down the hall, Patrick and Bill had finished putting together the
microscope the day before.  Scully had spent most of the morning and
early afternoon recalibrating the scope until she was satisfied that
it was working properly.  Now late in the afternoon, she and Mary
were quietly working together.  

"Okay, Mary," Scully murmured.  "Let's get started."  Mary nodded
and began handing Scully tubes of enzymes, buffers and distilled
water that she carefully measured earlier according to Scully's
precise instructions.  Scully accepted each tube from Mary without
looking up; concentrating as she mixed them with the DNA she had
taken to create a reaction mixture.  There was one mixture for each
blood sample and therefore, each different DNA sample.  She popped
open the lid of the centrifuge and eased the tubes containing the
reaction mixtures into the carousel.  Snapping the lid closed, she
spun the tubes for several seconds.  Removing them from the
centrifuge, she crossed the room and slid the reaction mixtures into
the incubator and set the temperature to 37 degrees Celsius. The
reaction mixtures would stay in the incubators overnight. She turned
and looked at Mary.

"Well," she said brightly.  "That was easy enough."  Mary laughed
but both women knew they had only just begun their work.  Scully
glanced at her watch and was shocked to realize that several hours
had passed since she and Mary had begun working.

She removed the protective goggles from her eyes and set them down
on the stainless steel counter of the lab table and stripped off the
latex gloves covering her hands.  "Let's go home," she said, wearily
stretching and rubbing the small of her back.  "It's my night to cook
and I'm sure Walter is waiting for you," she said with a sly smile on
her face.

Mary's cheeks flushed and Scully was delighted to know that it
wasn't just her own fair complexion that would stain pink when
embarrassed.  She laughed and took pity on her friend's obvious
discomfort.

"Come on, Mary," she said.  "We have to leave the mixtures in the
incubator overnight anyway.  There's nothing else we can do here."
She slipped into her parka and began gathering various textbooks and
notes into her arms.  Mary grabbed her own coat from the back of the
door and followed Scully outside, eager to get home to Walter.

***********

She had thrown together a quick dinner of soup and sandwiches and
while Mulder had cleaned up, she had changed into her pajamas and
climbed into bed.  When he came into the bedroom twenty minutes
later, she was already engrossed in her research.

"What are you reading?" he asked as he pulled his shirt over his
head.  Shivering as the cool air washed over him, he tugged a thermal
shirt on and stepped into the tiny bathroom to wash up for the night
while he waited for an answer.  When none was forthcoming, he poked
his head back into the bedroom.  Her nose was buried in what appeared
to be a research manual.  Again.  He sighed and finished washing his
face, repeating his question.

"What are you reading?" As he dried his face with a soft towel, his
wife looked up distractedly.  

"Hmm?" she asked, shaking her head.  "I'm sorry, Mulder.  What did
you ask?"  He muffled an exasperated sigh and crawled into bed beside
her.  

"I wanted to know what you were reading," he said patiently, tapping
one finger on the page she had been absorbed by. Scully sighed and
rubbed her hand over the spine of the book.  

"I'm just reading up on the agarose gel electrophoresis," she told
him.  Mulder squinted at her in the soft light of the bedside lamp.

"Ara-what?" he asked in confusion.  Scully turned away from her
reading material and fixed her gaze on Mulder who was lying on his
side, propped up on one elbow with an inquisitive look on his face.

"Agarose gel," she corrected.  "Agarose is a sugar that is found in
seaweed that forms a clear gel.  I have to create the gel and pour it
into molds tomorrow.  Then I'll load the DNA onto the gel."  Mulder
shook his head and still looked confused.  Scully sighed heavily.

"It's so complicated, Mulder. In spite of the equipment we managed
to bring in from Fairbanks, given the fact that I'm trying to do this
in such a remote location, I don't know if I can even do it, let
alone explain it to you," she said wearily.  Mulder studied the
anxious look in his wife's eyes.  It was on the tip of his tongue to
urge her to set the book aside and get some rest.  But he knew she
wouldn't go to sleep until she was ready.  And there was no sense in
nagging at her this late at night.  He nodded and pushed himself up
to press a kiss to her cheek.

Don't stay up too late," he admonished softly.  He slid under the
covers and rolled onto his side.  Bunching a pillow beneath his
cheek, it wasn't long before his soft snores filled the room.

Several hours later Scully rubbed her eyes tiredly.  The words were
beginning to blur and run together on the pages in front of her.  She
slid a piece of paper between the pages to mark her place and set the
book down on the nightstand.  Slipping out of bed, she padded across
the room to the bathroom.  When she was finished, she crept quietly
toward the bed and snapped off the light.  Shivering in the cool air,
she lifted the blankets and crawled under them, sliding across the
sheets to curl around the curve of her husband's body.  She threw an
arm over his waist and he mumbled her name in his sleep.  His fingers
tangled with hers and he tugged their joined hands to his chest.

"G'night, Scully," he mumbled sleepily. She snuggled into his warmth
and her lips moved against the waffle-weave of the thermal shirt
covering his strong back in a silent prayer that she find success. It
was a long time before sleep claimed her.

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

The next day found Scully and Mary back in the clinic.  But as Mary
could have predicted, things were not running as smoothly as they had
the day before.

"We're going to get this gel formed properly if it kills us," Scully
said.  Mary nodded grimly, handing Scully the various buffers, acids
and aragose.  They had tried twice before to create the gel molds
without success.

Scully poured the mixture into an Erhlenmeyer flask and set it down
onto a hot plate to bring the mixture to a boil.  Mary moved in front
of the hot plate and began stirring the gel.

"Third time's the charm, right Dana?" she asked.  Scully threw her a
small, determined smile and stood.  She had been perched on a stool
for hours, hunched over the lab table and her back was aching again
in what she knew was going to be a daily nuisance.  

"Why don't you lie down for a few minutes?" Mary suggested.  She was
concerned about her friend.  Scully had a pinched look around her
mouth and Mary knew that meant the nausea had not restricted itself
to the early morning.  She had not been able to convince her to stop
for a lunch break earlier in the day and had satisfied herself by
forcing Scully to eat several slices of toast coated with a thin
layer of raspberry preserves.  

Now, Scully shook her head.  "No, I want to get this done," she said
with a note of bleak determination.  Mary sighed, but turned her
attention back to her stirring, accepting defeat for the moment.  Now
was not the time to push it.  

She looked up a moment later.  "I think it's ready," she said.
Scully leaned over the flask and saw that the gel was clear and had
no bubbles in it.  While the gel cooled the two women finished
preparing the molds.  Scully checked on the cooling gel to be sure
that it hadn't hardened.  Satisfied that the flask was cool enough to
touch, she swirled the gel in the flask and quickly poured it into
the mold.  Mary poked the gel with a pipette to remove any small
bubbles that had formed while the mixture was poured and they set the
mold tray aside to allow the gel to harden.

Scully prepared a buffer solution and when the gel had hardened they
placed the tray into a buffer chamber and poured the solution over
the gel.

They had worked in near total silence for over an hour.  Now they
put on fresh gloves and began to assemble the blotting stack by
layering paper towels and a nylon filter over ordinary household
plastic wrap.  Scully lifted several sheets of a specialized paper
and cut it to match the size of the gel tray and added it to the
stack.

"Get the tray, will you Mary?" she asked as she finished assembling
the blotting stack.  Mary nodded and opened the buffer chamber to
pull out the gel tray.  Scully drew in a deep breath and took the
tray from Mary, carefully removing the gel and placing it on a piece
of plastic wrap.  She fumbled with the slippery gel and Mary's breath
caught in her throat as she imagined it tumbling to the floor.  But
Scully managed to keep her grip on it and she flipped the gel over in
her hands. She covered it with a wet membrane and added it to the
blotting stack and covered the entire thing with a sponge.  She was
planning on a rapid downward blot, which would take about ninety
minutes.  

Mary glanced at the clock on the wall.  They had been at this for
more than twelve hours.  She was exhausted and could not believe that
Scully was still on her feet.  There was still so much work to be
done and the few attempts she had made to convince her friend to
finish up for the day and go home had been rebuffed.  While Scully's
attention was directed elsewhere, Mary slipped out of the clinic in
search of Mulder.

She found him in the kitchen of his cabin.  He and Walter were
playing cards, waiting for the women to finish up and come home. Mary
stomped the snow from her boots as she shut the door behind her.

"Mulder, you should go check on Dana.  She's got me worried.  I
don't think she has any intention of leaving the clinic until this
procedure is finished," Mary announced as she shook back the hood of
her parka.  Both men looked up from the cards in their hands.  Mulder
frowned as he digested Mary's words and took in the serious
expression on her face.  He signed and laid down his cards.

"I knew this would happen.  Damn it, she never takes her health into
consideration!  She's been up late every night reading those damn
research manuals and not eating properly.  And I've let her fob me
off with excuses... I should have put my foot down weeks ago." Mary
nodded and looked at Skinner, who had a troubled crease in his brow.  

"How much more has to be done?" Skinner asked as he reached out to
catch her hand in his and pull her close.  She wrapped an arm around
his shoulder and regarded Mulder with a resigned air.

"If she starts on the next step, then it is going to take her
several more hours before she can wrap things up for the night," Mary
said. Mulder scraped his chair back from the table and strode across
the cabin.  

"That's it," he declared.  "I'm bringing her home.  If she won't
take care of herself willingly then I'll make her."  He pulled his
coat from a peg near the door and stuffed his feet into his boots.
Skinner lifted the cards Mulder had set down onto the table and
surreptitiously compared them to his own hand.  His eyes widened when
he saw that Mulder had drawn an inside straight and he quickly
shuffled both hands into the deck of cards and stood to snatch up his
own coat.  He and Mary trudged through the snow behind Mulder,
listening as the other man muttered and complained about his wife's
work habits.  Skinner snuffed out a tired chuckle and gripped Mary's
hand as they walked a few paces behind Mulder, commenting softly.

"If he thinks he can strong-arm Dana into coming home when she's
mired three feet deep in vaccine manipulation, he's dreaming..." Mary
nodded, thinking the exact same thing.  From what she had observed
about Dana these past few months, that was one strong, stubborn,
driven woman...  

Mulder burst into the clinic with Mary and Skinner hot on his heels
to find Scully bent over the stainless steel counter of the lab
table.  He strode up to her and stood over her, eyes boring into the
back of her head.

"Come on," he said with a commanding note in his voice.  "It's time
for you to come home."  Scully looked up from the notes she was
making.  Her eyes were wide behind the protective goggles still
covering her face.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.  "I'm busy!"  She turned
her back on him and began to carefully make several more entries into
her notebook.  Mulder leaned against the table, not budging a bit. 
He laid a firm hand on her arm.

"You've been at this for twelve hours," he told her.  "It's not
going anywhere - you can finish it tomorrow."  Scully shook him off
and looked up at Mary accusingly.

"We're not finished yet," Scully said.  "The blotting stack can be
torn down in about thirty minutes."  Mary shrugged unapologetically.
She knew that Scully would stay at the clinic all night to finish
this stage of the work, just as she knew that it was going to take a
village to bully her into taking care of herself and the baby.

"You can finish tomorrow," Mulder repeated as he tugged on her arm.
Scully huffed out an exasperated breath, beginning to feel irritated.

"I can't just leave it like this," she said as she flung out a
gloved hand toward the stack.  Mulder crossed his arms over his chest
and arched one brow.  Scully sighed and looked toward the blotting
stack.  Truth was that it could be torn down after ninety minutes or
she could leave it overnight before beginning the pre-hybridization
and hybridization stages of the process.  But it had taken them so
much longer to get the gel molds done properly... she had anticipated
finishing the blot today.  She didn't want to wait until tomorrow. 
She decided to stall.

"I need to finish these notes while the steps are still fresh in my
mind," she told Mulder.  She was counting on him going back to the
cabin so that she could get back to her work in peace.

"I'll wait," he announced.  Scully threw him a disgusted look and
went back to her work.  Mulder pushed away from the table and walked
toward his friends.  "You might as well go home," he told them. "I'll
force her out of here as soon as she's finished whatever it is she's
doing." He walked them toward the door and as they pushed it open and
stepped outside, he leaned against the frame.

"This is what it's going to be like for the next few months," he
said wearily.  "She's going to dig her heels in and fight me every
step of the way."  Skinner nodded and clapped a sympathetic hand on
the younger man's shoulder.  He would have loved to be able to say
something encouraging but he knew Mulder was right.  Instead he
grabbed Mary's hand and pulled her toward her cabin where Michael and
Jon were waiting.

Mulder watched them walk away and thumped his head in agitation
against the door frame before turning back into the clinic, preparing
to bully his wife into going home as well.  He sighed heavily as he
opened the door, as determined to prevent her from doing this to
herself and the baby, as he was helpless to figure out any way to
stop her...

In the meantime life in the village would have to go on.


*********

Up until his first real hunting trip, Bill only thought he knew what
the term 'subsistence' meant.  In the past he'd hunted a few times
with his dad, and once with some Navy buddies of his.  With Bill
Scully Sr. he'd helped bring down a small deer, and then had thrown
up when his dad tried to show him how to dress the meat.  Not the
most pleasant of experiences...

His buddies had taken him bow hunting, and Bill had hated it.  For
one thing it was a sporting trip more than anything else.  These so-
called pals of his were after a moose rack and didn't care about the
meat.  They'd brought down a magnificent bull moose and had claimed
its head - and nothing else.  It had taken several arrows to maim the
beast, enough for them to track the blood in the snow and find the
suffering animal writhing in pain.  Two shots to the heart had
finished it off, and all the way home they'd bragged about their
prowess with bow and arrow.

Bill had found it very sickening... so much so that when Warren and
Patrick asked him to help them hunt caribou for the winter supply,
he'd almost said no.  When Patrick had explained that safe hunting in
the Arctic bush required more than two men, however... Bill had
relented and agreed.

Now he was very glad he'd said yes - for this was what it was all
about.  This was why God made man the dominant force over other
creatures of the earth - and why his respect for his new Inupiaq
family just grew and grew.

It took them a full day to find a herd of caribou, and another day
of tracking to single out two large bucks that appeared young enough
to have not begun rutting and old enough for decent maturity.  Bill
knew the size of their rack had a lot to do with whether or not they
had begun to rut; these bucks had relatively small racks so it was
safe to assume they were all right to take down. Patrick had
explained to Bill that it was very important to not deprive the herd
of its stud and especially to leave the cows alone.  The bucks they
ended up taking seemed to be secondary in the herd's hierarchy and
most likely had not yet mated.  These could be spared without
endangering the future of the overall herd.  

Bill was impressed by their concern and care - and found himself
understanding what it meant to 'kill to live'. All the meat was
harvested from the animal, even the face meat.  The cold was raging
and penetrating out on the tundra but they did every speck of
harvesting out there, taking refuge when necessary in a hunting shack
about fifty feet from the camp.  Warren had explained these
shacks were everywhere, some built by him and his own father, years
and years ago.  

"My father brought me out here for the first time when I was Matty's
age."  Warren used a fine ulu blade to scrape the meat from the hide,
going slowly and carefully so that the skin would be of most value. 
Bill hunkered down as close to Warren as he could not only to watch
and learn but also to help protect the older man from the icy
elements.  Warren eased the remainder of the neck skin from the meat
and cut the hide loose, rolling it around in the snow to remove the
worst of the blood.  He motioned Bill to pick up one end of the hide,
a heavy section near the rear haunch, while Patrick hefted the other
haunch and they maneuvered it over to a skin rack to finish freezing.
Later they would scrape away the last of the blood and wipe it clean.
The hide would then be cured in a heated hut for the remainder of the
winter.

Bill fingered the fur on the severed head with curiosity.  It felt
soft and coarse at the same time.  He watched as Warren took a
smaller ulu and made a few incisions before he could loosen the skin
and get at the face meat below.  Patrick and Bill helped tug on the
caribou's rack, managing to expose the flesh underneath.  Patrick
wiped his bloody hands on an old rag and commented, "The face has the
sweetest meat, don't know why.  Warren makes great sausage with it." 
Warren's wide grin could be seen in the dark, the glow of their
lanterns lending an eerie cheerfulness to his white-toothed smile. 
His matter-of-fact reply was without vanity or false modesty.

"I do make the sweetest sausage... my father taught me."

After spending one more night in the tiny hut, huddled between his
two friends, Bill was more than ready to call it a wrap and head home
to his family.  He was exhausted and smelled to high heaven of
caribou funk and blood.  The carcasses were left behind, with very
little remaining for winter scavengers.  The men took everything but
the hooves, the tails, the scraped heads and racks and parts of the
intestines and stomachs.  Everything taken would be eaten, in one
form or another.  Bill decided he wouldn't question what he ate in
the future - he really didn't want to know.  Since he hadn't eaten a
bad meal since he'd moved to the village he could only assume that
for him - ignorance would surely be bliss. 

He was borderline frostbitten and sore as hell when he finally
pulled his snowmobile into the village, dragging one of the food
sleds behind him, full of caribou meat.  Patrick had the other sled,
all wrapped up nice and tight with the second load of meat.  It had
been a successful hunt - they had enough caribou to last for months.  

Bill swung his leg over the mobile and almost fell flat on his face.
He was so tired... Patrick stumbled over to him, also beyond weary,
and slapped him on the back, about knocking Bill over.  Patrick
barked out a tired laugh and grinned at his friend.

"Go home and sleep.  Warren and I will secure the meat in the smoke
hut until morning, so it won't freeze.  Then comes the real work...
dressing and dividing up the kill.  Thank goodness we have that huge
freezer that Mary brought up from Whitehorse when she set up the lab.
We can store the meat in the main cache but come summer we'll need
the freezer.  So tomorrow we will begin, right?  It will have to be
done quickly - everyone must help.  Even the women."  He chuckled
again when Bill snorted and muttered sleepily about the sight of Tara
up to her armpits in caribou being a real Kodak moment...


"Mmmm, Bill... thazzyou...?"  Tara's sleepy voice came out of the
darkened bedroom, as Bill tiptoed through on his way to the bathroom.
He stopped by the foot of the bed, squinting in the gloom of the tiny
night-light they kept by the door and barely making out the huddled
form of his wife in their bed.  He spoke in a weary, amused rasp.

"Who were you expecting at this early hour, hmmm?  Go back to sleep.
I gotta shower.  I smell like dead caribou."  He turned away and
stumbled to the bathroom, climbing inside the little shower stall
fully clothed.  His wife's voice stopped him as he reached out to
turn on the faucets; she'd come into the bathroom, rubbing at her
eyes.

"Bill, take off your clothes!  Are you nuts?"  Bill looked down at
himself, still in a tired stupor. Shit, he was standing in the shower
with his parka and bunny boots... he shook his head to clear it and
quickly shed his smelly outerwear, then stripped down the rest of the
way and stepped back into the shower, turning on a hot spray and
grabbing the soap.  Tara gathered up his clothes and tossed them
outside on their tiny porch, then shivering she built up the fire in
the stove and crawled back under the covers.

Five minutes later Bill climbed in next to her, still a bit damp
from his shower but smelling much better.  Tara turned into his arms
and snuggled close, burying her nose in his neck.  She huffed out a
yawning query.

"So, did you bag a beastie, Bill?"  

Bill cuddled his wife's warm body, nodding against her head.  "We
got two big bucks.  We brought back a shitload of meat and tomorrow
we have to dress it down.  All of us," he added, grinning at her
muffled groan of distaste.  He found her soft mouth in the early-
morning darkness and kissed her gently, loving the way she responded
to him.  She hummed into his mouth, tongue curling alongside his.

"I missed you, Billy... next time I wanna come with you."  He
snickered at the unbelievable vow, and stroked his hand through her
hair as her kiss slackened against his mouth and she began to snore
softly.  With his last remaining consciousness Bill pulled her limp
body over his like a blanket, and fell asleep holding his wife tucked
underneath his chin.

********** 

When Michael wasn't following Skinner around the village, he found
himself spending most of his time with Tara.  She reminded him of his
mother.  She was blonde-haired and green-eyed and in that respect
could not have been more different from his mother.  Ruth Honea's
hair and eyes had been dark, like her race.  But she had hugged and
loved and played with her children much in the same way as Tara did
with Matthew and Meggie.  And when Michael began to spend time with
Tara, she opened her arms to him as well.  Her easy affection,
playful manner and at times strict discipline, were a balm to the
young boy's weary heart.

He loved his Aunt Mary and was happy to be living with her and his
grandfather.  He wouldn't change that for the world.  But Tara Scully
was quickly becoming many things to him.  Teacher, friend - mother
figure.  

They quickly established a routine.  Because Mary was busy at the
clinic during the days, Michael would make his way to Tara and Bill
Scully's cabin after breakfast.  Tara would bundle Matty and Meggie
into their tiny parkas and she and Michael would take the children
for a walk around the village.  On these walks, Michael would be the
teacher, pointing out objects of interest and explaining their
significance as Nanook romped through the snow and scampered between
their legs.  They would tour the greenhouse to learn from Sophie and
the other women all about the crop cycles - when to plant and when to
harvest.  They always left with a little treat pressed into their
hands by one of the women.  On another day they might walk to the
power plant or the water treatment plant for a lesson in the
mechanics of the operation of the facilities.

One day, Michael took Tara and the children to the barn and helped
the smaller children feed the chickens.  Matty hid behind Tara's legs
as the pecking hens crowded him when they saw the feed in his hands,
while Meggie simply squealed and giggled, frightening the chickens
and having the time of her life.

He introduced them to the goats and taught Tara how to milk a nanny.
He laughed with delight as she timidly wrapped her hands around the
goat's teats, grimacing as she tentatively tried to squeeze the milk
into a bucket.

Back in the cabin, Tara would make lunch and then settle Matty and
Meggie into their beds for their naps.  She and Michael would spend
the next two hours working on his lessons.  Tara made learning fun. 
A lesson in fractions might be taught by learning to bake biscuits -
a half of a cup of milk and one-quarter of a teaspoon of salt and so
forth.  His reading lessons were to simply sprawl out on the carpet
while he read aloud to her from one of the books she had unearthed in
the schoolhouse as she gently corrected his pronunciation or prompted
him when he stumbled over an unrecognizable word.

And in the afternoons, before the sun would set for the day, she
would fill his belly with something hot to drink and send him on his
way with a pile of books in his arms and a gentle admonishment to do
his homework.

He was relearning the wonder of a mother's caring touch - and loving
it anew.

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


"Mr. Skinner!"  Michael's voice was high and breathless as he ran
after the tall figure dressed in a parka and mukluks, striding toward
the barn.  At the sound of his name the big man turned around and
watched as Michael hurried to catch up.  In the dark Skinner could
barely make out the boy's features, but he held up the lantern in his
hands and patiently waited until Michael got closer, smiling at the
child as he stumbled to a halt in front of him in the deep snow.

"Michael... everything okay?  Is your grandpa okay?"  Michael
nodded, and swallowed nervously.  

"He's okay... I just wondered where... um... can I go with you? 
Aunt Mary told me you're getting eggs.  I wanted to help.  My lessons
are all done, and I'm kinda bored."  Michael stared up at Skinner
earnestly, blushing a little.  Skinner nodded and smiled again.

"Sure, Michael - I can always use the help.  I have a lot of eggs to
collect - seems like everyone wants them this week."  Michael fell
into step with Skinner and they trudged through the drifting snow
toward the barn.  Skinner hung the lantern on its pole outside the
door and ushered Michael through, snapping on the main lights.

Inside, Michael had to pet the goats, which bleated softly as they
nosed him, the scent of him familiar.  Skinner let him bond with them
as he got the egg basket down from its shelf and lined it with an old
folded towel to cushion the eggs.  He shook his head at the task he'd
been assigned to perform whenever necessary; who would have thought
that he would end up being the only male in the village the hens
would allow near their precious eggs?  Mary said it was because of
his tender touch...  Skinner grinned to himself at the thought of
having a way with these feathered ladies.  He didn't mind; with the
women busy in the greenhouse with their vital crops, and Mary helping
Dana at the clinic somebody had to collect the eggs.

He called softly to Michael and the boy patted two of the older
goats one last time and ran over to the coop.  Skinner gave him the
basket to hold, and approached the first chicken; ignoring the evil
eye leveled on him from the affronted bird he reached underneath her
soft body with assurance.  The fussy hen gave up her eggs agreeably
enough.  Motioning Michael closer Skinner had him hold the basket in
both hands and laid the eggs down gently.

They worked their way down the line of hens, collecting a nice
amount of eggs.  Michael held the basket and subtly squirmed as he
stood quietly beside Skinner - and it became very apparent in a very
short time that Michael had something on his mind.  Skinner let him
stew for a bit, taking the almost-full basket out of his hands before
he squirmed a bit too much and dropped it.  He made the boy face him
and his voice was kind but firm.

"Okay, spill it, Michael.  You got something on your mind?"

Ten minutes later Skinner was holding the sobbing twelve-year old
boy, and fighting the urge to break down into tears himself.  Sooner
or later it had to come out, and the child was overdue for any
expression of grief.  Like many of his people Michael was stoic in
his emotions and if he grieved it was a private thing.  This time,
however - Michael had wanted to know; had needed to ask what his
family would have gone through.  He was a smart, curious boy - and
old enough to handle an explanation of what he'd seen that awful day
when the bees had come.

Skinner had put a comforting arm about the child's thin shoulders
and had tried to lessen the horror of it, as best as he could.  But
Michael was a smart boy...

"Mr. Skinner - did they hurt a lot?  When the bees stung them?  More
than a regular sting?  There were a lot of bees..."  Skinner rubbed a
soothing hand over Michael's arm, and answered as carefully as he
could.

"Yes, Michael.  It hurt.  A lot.  I won't lie to you because I can
tell you want to know the truth.  When your family got stung they
were in a lot of pain before... before they lost consciousness.  But
I don't think they were in pain for very long.  You know what shock
is, right?"  Michael nodded, his eyes never breaking contact with
Skinner's. "Well, when the body goes into shock they don't feel the
pain.  I think your family went into shock pretty fast, and when they
did the pain went away for them.  It's what you have to think about,
remember... because if you do it'll make the remembering of what you
saw just a little bit easier."  

Michael leaned against Skinner's shoulder and then left his head
there, shuddering out a hitching sigh before his young voice spoke up
again.  

"My dad liked to eat honey.  He said honey made everything taste
better.  One of the neighbor ladies had hives and she'd give us jars
of fresh honey every summer.  My dad ate it right out of the jar with
a spoon and my mom was always teasing him about getting fat from
eating all that honey.  They used to joke around about it.  One day I
was coming in the house after school, and I caught them goofing
around with a jar of it.  Mom was dabbing the honey on her nose and
giggling as Dad licked it off.  They were both so happy.  Lily used
to say that Mom and Dad were like newlyweds all the time.  But we
didn't think it was weird, or anything - we liked it."  

Michael sat up a little and sniffed hard, rubbing his hand along his
wet cheeks.  He looked up at Skinner with eyes still overflowing, and
added, "They all went together.  Mom and Dad, and Lily.  I guess it
was best for them, to go like that.  Sometimes I feel bad that I was
in the house when it happened.  I should have been outside with them.
I should have gotten stung too..." His voice stuttered to a stop as
the significance of his words hit like a physical blow and he doubled
over, sobbing anew.  Skinner emitted a rough sound of sympathy and
gathered Michael up into his arms, settling him in his lap.  He
rocked the distraught boy as he tried to find words that would help
soothe his aching heart.

"Shh, it's okay, boy - it'll be okay.  You needed to live, Michael -
you had to survive.  Your Aunt Mary needs you, so much - your grandpa
needs you.  There's nothing wrong with wanting to live, Michael -
it's what being human is all about.  From the moment we are born we
fight to live - fight for that first necessary breath and then every
day of our lives we do whatever we need to do to survive.  Right now
your family is up in Heaven and I know they are so happy because you
are alive - you were spared.  There are things you have to do in
life, Son - and they must be pretty important because God wasn't
ready to let you go, yet."  

Skinner brushed the damp hair from the child's forehead and kept a
big hand pressed against his cheek, as he added, "We're not going to
let you go either - your Aunt Mary and your grandpa, and me.  We all
need you."  Michael's eyes were big with wonder as he met Skinner's
earnest stare, and nodded.  He wiped his nose on his sleeve and
whispered one last need for assurance into the small space between
them.

"You won't leave, will you?  You'll stay here?  With us?  You won't
go away like my Dad?"  Skinner smiled and gathered the boy close,
hugging him tightly and reassuring him one last time before helping
him to his feet and picking up the egg basket.

"No, I won't ever leave you, Michael.  I promise."

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


~ Chapter Twenty Eight ~


Scully hurried through the village as she made her way to the clinic
to begin her work for the day.  She was shivering in the cold.  They
had been living in the village for about three months now and she
still hadn't adjusted to the frigid temperatures.  It was only the
middle of December and she knew there were many months of really cold
weather ahead of her.

"Doctor!  Oh, Doctor Dana."  She turned at the sound of her name
being called to find Sarah standing in the door of her cabin.  The
older woman waved and gestured for Scully to come to her.  Scully
waved back as she walked over to find out what Sarah wanted.

"Good morning, Sarah," she said with a smile.  Sarah disappeared
into her cabin and Scully followed her into the warm room.

"I have something for you, dear," Sarah told her as she walked to
the stove in the kitchen.  She lifted a teakettle from the burner and
poured the boiling water into a mug.  Lifting the steaming mug, she
carried it to Scully who was watching her curiously.

"It's an herbal tea," Sarah explained.  "Very good for pregnant
mothers.  You are working too hard.  Not getting enough rest," she
admonished.  "This is good for the baby."  She pushed the mug toward
Scully who took it and cradled the warm porcelain between her chilled
fingers.

"Go on," Sarah said watching her expectantly.  Scully blew on the
steaming liquid and lifted the mug to her lips.  She sipped the tea
and struggled to hide a grimace behind the mug.  Coughing, she waved
one hand in front of her face.

"Hot," she wheezed.  Sarah jerked her chin toward the mug.  

"You need to drink all of it," she told her.  The tea was vile and
Scully worried that her already shaky stomach would not tolerate it,
but Sarah was watching her so eagerly... Scully tilted the mug back
to her mouth and hurriedly finished it in four or five large gulps. 
She set the tea down on the counter and Sarah beamed at her happily.

"I'll have the tea waiting for you every morning," she vowed.  "You
stop by on your way to the clinic and we'll have a little visit," she
said cheerfully.  "You have to keep the little one warm," she told
her as she poked gently at Scully's parka-covered stomach.

Scully smiled weakly.  She shivered at the thought of choking down
that wretched tasting tea every morning, but one look into Sarah's
hopeful, eager face and she knew that she would.


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

Mulder sat on the faded wool carpet in front of the little pot-
bellied stove, staring into the open flames and enjoying the heat on
his face.  It was a cold night... the coldest he'd experienced yet,
in Alaska.  The aroma of caribou goulash still hung fragrant in the
air of the kitchen, and in the bedroom the muffled sounds of Scully
moving about kept their small home from total silence.  He roused
himself from basking in the warmth long enough to call out softly,
"Scully... we need to go.  We'll be late if we don't hurry."  His
wife's patient reply wafted out from behind the partially closed door.

"Almost ready, Mulder... chill out, okay?"  Her smart little remark
was somewhat ruined by the snort of laughter she uttered at her own
joke.  Mulder groaned.

"Har de har har, baby.  How about I toss you in a snow bank and we
see who chills out first..."  The snappy comeback died on his lips as
Scully entered the living room and stood poised in the doorway. 
Mulder sucked in a breath and gaped at her.  

God... she looked like an angel...

She wore deep blue velveteen; a long-sleeved kuspuk that fell in
graceful folds from her shoulders to the tops of her feet.  It was
trimmed in gold braiding and had a line of tiny embroidered gold
stars around the squared collar and buttoned cuffs.  The knee ruffle
was trimmed with... Mulder squinted and looked closer; was that...
fox?  He reached out a finger and stroked it.  Sure enough, the
ruffle was edged in silver fox, soft and luxurious.  Scully turned
and presented her back, showing off an attached hood also trimmed in
silver fox.  When she spun back around her eyes sparkled, darkened by
the color of the material.  She grinned at Mulder and smoothed the
rich fabric over the swell of her stomach.

"You like, Mulder?  Sarah made it for me.  She says every woman
should own a kuspuk.  She gave it to me this afternoon.  She called
it a belated Christmas gift."  Mulder returned her smile as he got to
his feet and encircled her in his arms, careful not to crush the
velvet as he hugged her.

"It's incredible, Scully.  It must have taken her forever to make. 
I've seen that antiquated thing she calls a sewing machine.  And
where did she get the material?"  Mulder fingered the velveteen.  He
knew most Native parkas, the ones made of fur, were usually covered
with an outer-parka of velveteen, to protect the fur from getting
worn and dirty.  But that velveteen was always stiff; this material
was flowing and supple.  Scully ran a hand alongside his and her
reply was soft and proud.

"Sarah had been saving it for her own kuspuk.  But she made this for
me to help keep me warm, she said.  When she gave it to me I cried
like a baby."  Scully rested her cheek against the soft flannel of
Mulder's shirt, humming into his chest in contentment as he slipped
gentle fingers through her hair.  Her voice dropped to a whisper. 
"Sarah told me the wearing of a kuspuk is lucky during pregnancy.  Oh
Mulder," she raised bemused eyes to her husband's tender gaze, "I am
surrounded by myth and superstition and advice from experienced women
whose child-bearing adventures may or may not be embellished for my
personal entertainment... I can't seem to get away from it.  When
Sarah gave me this lovely thing, how could I refuse?  She says it
will bring me good fortune if I wear it under the Northern Lights...
so I promised her I'd wear it to the New Year's Gathering."  Her sigh
vibrated into his chest, and Mulder chuckled as he kissed her face.

"Scully, you look so beautiful.  Those are the state colors, you
know.  Deep blue and gold.  They're the colors of the Alaskan State
flag.  You know, Michael taught me the words to the state flag song. 
They describe a place of such beauty..." He recited a few of the
words for her.

'Eight stars of gold on a field of blue - Alaska's flag - may it mean
to you the blue of the sea, The evening sky - the mountain lakes and
the flowers nearby...'

'The gold of the early Sourdough's dreams - The precious gold of the
hills and streams - the brilliant stars in the Northern skies...'

His voice faded off as Scully stared up into his eyes, hearing the
words and imagining what their new home might look like in the
summer.  She kissed his cheek.

"Mulder, that's lovely.  I wonder why we haven't seen an Alaskan
flag anywhere around here?"  Scully thought about the words her
husband had just quoted, then looked down at her kuspuk, and smiled. 
She fingered the row of gold stars that trimmed the sleeves and the
neckline of the Native Alaskan dress, and murmured, "Guess I'm
wearing it, in a way..."  Mulder smiled along with her and gave her a
hug, before leading her to the door and helping her on with her
parka.  

"I guess you are, baby.  Let's go over to the party..."


Later everyone agreed that it had been a wonderful night.  

They'd decorated the main meeting room with paper chains and there
were silly hand-made paper hats to wear.  Tara had baked more pizza
and it went lightning-fast, even though they'd all eaten dinner
earlier in the evening.  All the adults except for Scully, who got a
glass of iced rosehip tea and declared it delicious, enjoyed
cranberry wine.  

Patrick brought a fiddle out and played a rousing series of polkas,
waltzes and even a classical piece that made Beverly tear up. Skinner
waltzed Mary around in a slow circle to the haunting tune of "Faded
Love"; both of them lost in their own little world.  In the corner of
the brightly lit room Michael and Matty rolled around on the floor
with a wildly yapping Nanook, while Meggie lay curled up in Sophie's
arms, clutching her rabbit and sucking her thumb.  And Bill sat back
on one of the benches with Tara cuddled up against him, and watched
the people he'd grown to respect and love each finding their own
special way to bring in the New Year.  From his sister in her pretty
blue kuspuk, looking more Alaskan than ever and getting teased as
usual by her husband and partner... to their children healthy and
happy and alive.  Bill smiled and kissed Tara on her pretty mouth,
thinking how good it was to simply be alive...

At exactly three minutes to midnight everyone got bundled up in his
or her heavy winter gear; hats were pulled on and bunny boots stepped
into.  They tiptoed outside, feet crunching in the deep snow.  Mulder
threw the switch on the outside lights, plunging the surrounding area
into total darkness - and everyone turned their faces to the night
sky.  

And gasped in wonder...

Across the inky blackness the Northern Lights  - the Aurora Borealis
- danced and jumped and leapt in ever-changing patterns of pink,
blue, yellow and palest green.  Stripes and arcs, fireballs of color
and rippling waves... so close they could have reached out hands to
touch it... so bright it changed the eternal night into magical day. 
It was deathly cold outside and they shivered and stomped their feet
and huddled together in a tight little group as their necks ached
from holding their poor heads way, way back... And none of them would
have gone inside to warm up, and chanced missing out on a single
second of the show, determined to stay and watch until after midnight.

Skinner's hushed voice broke into the silent worship of the night.
"Ten seconds..."  Scully snuggled into Mulder, back to front with his
mittened hands curved over their child, and she was the first one to
begin softly singing in her flat yet endearing voice:

"Should old acquaintance be forgot..."

The rest of the gathering picked up the words and the tune, and they
sang it into the frigid night air like a vow, and a promise to
themselves.  They let the magic of the Borealis wash its colors over
them as they celebrated a new year, filled with hope... 

Hope that they would continue to thrive and continue to live. 

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

It had become a nightly occurrence for Skinner to eat his meals with
the Honea family.  The dinner dishes had been washed and put away. 
Michael's homework was done and he was in the room he shared with his
grandfather, sleeping soundly.  Jon had retreated to Mary's room,
ostensibly to 'sit and gather his thoughts' for the sermon he would
give in two days when the village met for the Sunday gathering, but
Mary and Skinner knew that he was trying to give them some privacy.  

Mary was stretched out on the sofa. Her legs were propped across
Skinner's as his big hands gently kneaded her throbbing feet after
another exhausting day spent in the clinic working with Scully.  They
had spent the morning treating the various aches and pains of the
residents of Mt. Vu'luk and Mary had been hoping for a light day of
patient care and a break from the work on the vaccine.  But the
moment the last patient had cleared the waiting room, Scully had
moved with determination toward the lab.

"She's relentless," Mary moaned as Skinner dug his thumbs into her
arches.  "Yeah... oh that feels sooo good," she sighed, closing her
eyes.  Her head was nested into a small pillow and Skinner watched
sympathetically as she rolled it from side to side, trying to work
the kinks out of her neck and shoulders.  As she arched amd twisted
the stiff muscles Mary added, "Dana seems determined to start the 
new year off with a killer schedule!"  Skinner chuckled a bit under
his breath; that sure sounded like Dana to him.

"Were you able to make any progress today?" he asked as she snuggled
deeper into the pillow.  His massaging hands had stilled and Mary
wiggled her toes, urging him to get back to work.  He wrapped his
warm fingers around her tiny toes, squeezing gently and a blissful
smile broke over her full lips.

Her eyes slid open lazily.  "Well you know that the virus attacks
the host cells in two different ways.  We've been working on the
assumption that there are two separate strains of the virus.  Until
now we thought that one strain was spread through bee stings.  We
know that the alien embryo only gestates in those victims who are
stung by bees."  Mary's eyes darted away from his as she remembered
her mother who had fallen under the brutal attack of the swarming
bees set loose on Whitehorse.  Skinner's thumb gently traced over the
delicate bones of her instep.  She shook off the memory and
continued.  

"We believed that a second strain of the virus was transmitted
through the consumption of tainted food and those victims either died
quickly or experienced some kind of altered behavior, often
committing any number of heinous acts before finally succumbing to
the virus."  She blew out a breath and rubbed her hand over her
forehead.  Her toes had stopped their ecstatic wiggling as the
conversation turned bleak.

Skinner slid his fingers under the loose elastic cuffs of the
sweatpants that Mary was wearing and he stroked his hands gently
along the supple flesh of her calves.  He waited quietly for her to
continue.

"But the antibodies in the blood samples seem to indicate that there
is only one strain of the virus.  This is consistent with the viral
cells that we took from the oil that was expelled from Ty's body when
he died," she told him.  "I think Dana would love to get her hands on
an infected bee so that she could compare the cells taken from it
under the electron scope to the oil, but that's not possible."

Skinner continued to trace intricate patterns over Mary's skin with
his fingertips as he processed the information that she was laying
out for him. "So if there's only one virus," he began, "why do the
victims' reactions differ so widely?"  It was incredibly complex and
confusing and he struggled to wrap his brain around the intricacies
of the work that Mary and Scully were performing.

Mary pulled her feet from his lap and scrambled to sit up.  "That
just it!" she said as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.  "Dana
thinks that the method of infection dictates the way the virus
manifests itself in the victim."  Mary pulled her knees up to her
chest and rested her chin on top of them.  She could see the
confusion written on Skinner's face and she struggled to make sense
of their latest theory.

"Okay, it's like this," she began.  "Let's say someone eats a food
product that is tainted with the virus.  Dana believes that the
digestive acids found in the stomach render the virus incapable of
supporting the alien life form in its embryonic state.  She believes
that it rapidly evolves and mutates, causing the altered behavior and
rapid death of the victim."  Skinner's eyes widened as her meaning
sank in.  Mary nodded and continued.

"A vaccine is basically a weakened or killed pathogen - or virus -
that when administered through an inoculation, stimulates the
patient's antibody production to work against the invading virus. 
But because the virus is weakened or killed, it isn't capable of
causing a severe infection in the patient," she explained.  "Dana
hopes to be able to weaken or kill the viral cells by exposing them
to an acid stronger than those found in the digestive acids of the
human body."  She fell back against the pillow and threw an arm over
her eyes, the sudden excitement caused by reliving their discovery
tamped down by the weight of the sheer volume of work that still lay
ahead.

"The trick," she murmured tiredly, "will be to find an acid that is
strong enough to weaken or kill the viral cells but not so strong
that it is harmful to the patient upon administration of the
vaccine."  

Skinner stretched out on the sofa, wriggling his large body behind
hers and wrapped his arms around her.  He rested his cheek against
the cloud of soft, black hair that framed her face.  "How do you go
about doing that?" he asked.  Mary sighed and pulled his arms more
tightly around her.

"I have no idea," she said truthfully.  "And I don't think Dana has
any idea either," she told him.  "But I know she was ready to stay at
the clinic all night, trying to find out.  I practically had to drag
her out of there again," she admitted.  Mary twisted until she was
lying on her back.  Looking up at Skinner, she reveled in the warmth
and love that she saw in his eyes.

"You probably know her better than anyone, other than Mulder, of
course," she said.  "Has she always been this driven?"  Skinner was
propped up on one elbow and he stroked the fingers of his other hand
along her cheek.  His eyes flicked away from hers and he studied the
flames dancing merrily in the fireplace across the room.  

"Yes," he said nodding slowly.  "Scully is probably the most
tenacious woman I have ever met," he told her.  "Once she decides on
a course of action, no one, not even Mulder, can sway her."  Mary
sighed and snuggled her face into the heavy wool of the sweater
covering his broad chest.  

"That's what I thought," she said.  "It's not good for her. 
Pregnancy puts enormous demands on a woman's body. Dana is only
adding to that pressure by believing that any hope for a vaccine
rests squarely on her shoulders," she said anxiously.  Skinner huffed
out a grim sigh and lowered his cheek back onto her soft hair.  

"She's right, isn't she?" he murmured against the crown of her head.
Mary nodded and closed her eyes.  She buried her face against the
warm skin of his throat and silently renewed her vow to help Scully
in every possible way - whether that meant assisting her in the lab
or nagging her into taking better care of herself and the baby.

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


~ Chapter Twenty Nine ~

The coldest, nastiest day of February found Mulder rising from his
warm bed and from his wife's warmer arms, dreading the short trip
from their cabin to the computer room in the gathering hall.  He sat
on the edge of the bed and yawned, stretching his arms out in front
of him.  A tiny snorting snore behind him; Mulder half-turned and
slipped his fingers through Scully's tousled hair, half-covering her
face as she slept on her side.  Poor baby... she'd had a rough
night.  

It happened once in awhile, when her stomach was unsettled and she'd
awaken several times in the night with heartburn.  Mulder had counted
at least three times that she'd gotten up and walked around the
cabin, rubbing at her tummy and taking deep breaths to combat the
burning high in her throat.  Usually it was brought on by food,
although last night's dinner of soft-boiled eggs and sweet biscuits
should not have bothered her.  

Each time she'd returned to bed shivering and with cold feet, and
he'd reached out for her and had curled his limbs around hers and
eased her back to sleep.  She was in her fifth month and her body was
changing almost daily now.  Mulder hoped the remaining months of her
pregnancy would be somewhat smooth.

He leaned over and brushed his lips against her forehead, smiling
when she grumbled in her sleep, then emitted a sharp little burp and
snuggled down deeper into the flannel sheets.  The burp smelled
vaguely of bad eggs, which meant she'd have to ease up on them for
the remainder of her pregnancy.  Mulder sighed, hating to think she
might have to give up the much-needed source of protein.  Even after
all these months living in the village Scully wasn't big on red meat,
and ate sparingly of the caribou, moose and rabbit that everyone else
consumed with gusto.

With one final kiss on her half-open mouth Mulder got up and padded
silently to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and
running his wet hands through his hair, not bothering to comb it.  He
ambled out to the kitchen in the dark, knowing his way around their
little home so well that he didn't need to worry about lights until
he got to the stove.  He snapped on the range light and filled the
kettle with water, not wanting to make a full pot of coffee but just
settling on instant.  He didn't want the smell of brewing coffee to
awaken Scully - she'd had problems with that particular smell for the
past few weeks.

As the water heated Mulder rummaged in the bread bin for the round
of sourdough bread Scully had made a few days ago, and broke off a
piece, spreading it liberally with the home-churned butter that
Sophie thoughtfully provided for everyone.  Made of goat's milk, the
unsalted butter was strong and flavorful - and if a year ago anyone
had told him he'd be slapping goat butter on sourdough bread made
from thirty year-old starter in a rough-hewn log cabin in the most
desolate territory of Alaska... and loving every minute of it...
Mulder would have immediately led that person to the closest shrink's
office and locked them in for life.  And yet, here he was, standing
in a rustic kitchen in his thermal underwear chowing down on bread
and butter like no tomorrow.

In the months since they'd come to Mt. Vu'luk Mulder had watched his
family and friends become absorbed into the Inupiaq way of life, so
much that some days he could barely remember living in any other
fashion.  Everyone in the village had a job and supplied for everyone
else.  The first day Sophie had brought them a huge lump of butter,
wrapped in cheesecloth and nestled in an old cookie tin, Mulder had
been floored.  That she would make them butter... Sophie had waved
away his thanks, but had thoroughly enjoyed the tender kiss he had
placed on her wrinkled cheek.  Her rheumy eyes had sparkled up at him.

"It's nothing, Boy - I have to make it anyway and what is the
difference between making a little and making a lot?  It all has to
be churned.  I make the best butter, ask anyone.  It is my job.  I
make it for everyone, and now I make it for you."  She had squeezed
his arm, and hobbled out, leaving him with a tin of butter and a
goofy smile on his face.  And now he didn't think anything of it when
he would come home and there would be a cloth bag hanging on his door
with a lump of butter in it - but when he saw Sophie, she always got
her kiss on the cheek - and she never ran out of wood for her fire. 
Either Mulder or Skinner saw to that; between the two of them and
Bill's efforts everyone in the village had enough firewood.  Mulder's
biceps and chest had benefited from the hard exercise and had become
built up almost as strongly as Skinner's.  His abs were washboard
ridged; Scully seemed especially appreciative of his new, improved
body...

Mulder finished the bread and the coffee, rinsing out his cup and
stacking it in the drain.  He made his silent way back into the
bedroom, dressing quickly in a pair of flannel-lined jeans and a
henley tee with a thick quilted flannel shirt over it.  He had
Beverly to thank for the lining in his jeans; she'd taken several
pairs and lined them for him, performing the same thoughtful task for
Skinner and Bill.  The lined jeans were amazingly warm.  He stopped
by the bed to kiss Scully one more time; she sighed in her sleep and
her muttered, "Bacon roof, okay," made absolutely no sense
whatsoever.  When she talked in her sleep the oddest things came out
of her mouth.  Sometimes it was all Mulder could do not to roll
around next to her in the bed and laugh his sides off.  Now he
grinned at the silly words and bit down hard on the inside of his
cheek to keep from guffawing out loud and disturbing her sleep.  He
stroked a hand over her hair and walked out.

In the living room he pulled his parka out of the tiny front closet
and shoved his feet into his bunny boots, already thinking ahead to
yet another attempt to get hold of the Gunmen.  Last week when he'd
logged on, the Internet had been shaky.  He tried not to think too
much on how it was staying afloat; tried to keep positive thoughts in
his head about who in the world would be considered a human survivor.
There had to be pockets of survivors all over the world; people who
were vegetarians and would not eat meat.  People who lived in frigid
places where the bees could not go, the way it was here in Mt.
Vu'luk.  Hardy people who had perhaps found a way to survive the
infection of the virus; who would continue to survive until something
else crossed their path and brought them down.

Scully had once mentioned 'sexually-transmitted.' More and more
Mulder figured she'd hit the proverbial nail with that thought.  The
aliens' master plan had to be complete annihilation of the human
race.  And it seemed reasonable for them to assume that what stupid
humans were left over from their first attacks would eventually find
a way to wink themselves out... all by themselves.

Mulder shuddered in the warmth of his little cabin as he searched
through the pockets of his heavy goose-down parka for his watch cap.  

The cap wasn't in the outer pockets.  Mulder sighed and dug through
them again, muttering to himself.  Blasted parka had about a hundred
pockets, inside and out - even had pockets inside of pockets.  It was
anyone's guess why... some designer at the Triple-Fat Goose-Down
factory must have had a pocket fetish.  Mulder searched the outer
pockets - nothing.  Shit... it was the only cap he had.  He turned
the parka inside out and started pawing through the inner pockets...

When his hand dug into a small upper pocket, and closed upon not a
soft wool cap but a little bottle, Mulder stiffened in shock and
pulled his hand out very slowly, almost afraid to look down at what
he grasped in his palm.  It couldn't be -!  He opened his hand just
as slowly, and looked down... Oh, Jesus.

It was.  A vial... oh God thank YOU... Mulder held it up to the dim
light in his living room and just stared at it.  It was about two-
thirds full of a pale brownish-greenish liquid; in his mind Mulder
could see it all again as if it had just happened yesterday. 
Scrabbling at frigid ice and finger-numbing liquid alien shit...
fumbling with the leather pouch that held the vial and a syringe...
hands shaking as he filled the syringe with the substance that he
stabbed into Scully's frozen naked shoulder; the stuff that saved her
life... Christ... and here it was.  He never remembered shoving the
vial back in his parka; the same Triple-Fat goose down parka he'd
been wearing that day in Wilke's Land when he drove across an
Antarctica wasteland like gangbusters, to save his partner from a
fate far, far worse than death.

Mulder found himself shaking violently as he held the vial... and
then he was stumbling into the bedroom, yelling hoarsely...

"SCULLY!"

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

She held the vial in one hand, the other curved over her unborn
child.  Sitting up in bed in a tangled mound of blankets and quilt
and flannel sheets - Mulder had thrown a heavy sweater over her
shoulders as well.  Scully stared at the vial in her hands and the
face she turned to her husband was hopeful and worried at the same
time.

"Mulder, after all this time... I can't believe it.  In your pocket
for years, God.  And there's still a lot in here."  She shook the
vial a little, watching the odd-colored fluid shift in its little
container.  She wondered aloud, "It's so hard to say if it's still
potent, though.  We know nothing about it, whether or not it needed
to be kept under certain conditions.  It's been in your pocket for
over three years and that parka has been in the Gunman's closet for
most of that time."  Scully laid the vial carefully on the night
stand next to her side of the bed and snuggled into Mulder's arms,
pressing her cheek against the reassuring thud of his heart. Mulder
stroked her hair gently and thought about the significance of the
vial.

There wasn't enough vaccine there to inoculate everyone in the
village and surrounding areas, plus those in Barrow.  They'd still
have to find a way to manufacture more, but perhaps the vial could
be put to good use as a way to compare... he spoke his thoughts aloud,
and Scully nodded against his chest, then tilted her head up to peer 
into his eyes.

"I don't think we have a choice.  The vial may be mostly full but
this is a tiny container.  I can't stretch this small amount out far
enough to even cover our folks, much less anyone else.  And some of
this would have to be used in the testing, anyway.  Having the real
thing is wonderful though - means I don't have to waste time testing
every step of the way.  I can use the electron scope to match
components as I go.  It should cut the remaining work in half."  She
smiled up into her husband's face and he smiled back, and gently
kissed her soft mouth.  He whispered against her lips.

"Good.  I'm glad I lost my cap, then - because if I hadn't I would
never have dug through all those ridiculous pockets, and found the
vial.  You'll find the right elements, Scully - and you'll make the
vaccine a reality.  I know you will."  He kissed her again and felt
her smile into his mouth.

"Thank you, Mulder..."

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

One hand curled into a fist and pounded the desk while the other
hand raked impatiently through hair already standing on end.  Mulder
leaned back in the chair and forced himself to calm down.  He picked
up the mug of tepid coffee and drained it, grimacing at the lukewarm
liquid.  As he set the empty mug next to the keyboard he stared at
the message on the little screen.

'Unable to access'... For the Goddamn thousandth time, he thought
wearily.   Mulder blew out a frustrated breath and rubbed at his
eyes, fighting down the sense of panic that grew a little stronger
each time he tried to reach the guys and failed.  He'd been trying
off and on for several months, and every day for the past few weeks. 
He had tried every password, every list and every site he remembered
them having.  

The Internet in general had been up and down, so he tried to keep
that in mind every time he started to worry his head off.  He
supposed it was pointless to worry. They were grown men, even though
at times their actions belied it - and they'd known the risks of
staying behind.  Mulder knew the guys believed they could make a
difference in the world, and in some ways they already had.  He could
think of several instances where they'd been instrumental in the
solving of a case - and a few times their well-meaning antics had
gotten in the way.  And all three of them drove Mulder to
distraction, especially Langly.

Mulder missed them like crazy... so did Scully.

Leaning back in his chair, Mulder stretched his arms above his head,
and thought about what to do next.  He had tried coaxing them out but
they weren't wanting to be coaxed, that much was obvious.  His
methods of contact were limited and getting narrower as the weeks
wore on.  Internet access could crash permanently any day now; it had
happened for hours at a time, and just last week they'd lost it for
three days.  Once the Net was gone, their fragile link with the rest
of the surviving world disappeared, perhaps never to reappear.  

It was too depressing to contemplate... and yet Mulder was nothing
if not realistic.  It had to go down that way; there wasn't another
option.  The world was dying all around them, and all its wonders and
all its marvelous perks would die as well.

And yet...  Perhaps someday, if Scully's vaccine could be
perfected... if they found their way to fight back...

Mulder sighed again and grasped the mouse, preparing to shut
everything down.  Maybe he'd try tomorrow - maybe he'd give up.  He
was tired and worried and cold and time was running out... He had
just begun to left-click when it happened.  He stared at the screen,
dumbfounded at the tiny little envelope that flashed in the lower
right hand corner of his monitor.  And his mouth curved into a smile
which in turn blossomed into a grin that broke into a guffaw and
resulted in a laugh... and he clicked on the little flashing
envelope, and brought up the window that told him he had a message
from Richard Starkey -

Otherwise known as Ringo.  Mulder whooped out a loud, inane,
"INCOMING!"...  His eyes locked on eagerly to the short, but sweet
message:

'George:  Done at last!  Recording went swimmingly.  We're ready to
tour.  Another three months, Mate - wish us luck.'  

'Ringo...'


Mulder read it through twice, and whooped again.  Three months...
longer than he'd imagined it would take them.  He could only assume
they'd gotten his messages explaining where to find the village.  And
if they had to backtrack, sidetrack and otherwise hide their trek
from the alien enemy no doubt prowling the world... Mulder knew
they'd do it well, and make sure they weren't followed.

He shut everything down, locked up the little room and jumped into
his parka, almost running in his eagerness to get back to Scully, and
let her know the guys were on their way...


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

Drinkwater, Saskatchewan


In the corner of the little cafe, over cups of coffee and lemon
scones, the conversation turned to the happenings in Bemmy Kavok's
hometown.  

Bemmy stirred powdered creamer into his coffee and shrugged,
preferring not to think overmuch about it.  In some way he could
pretend everything was normal, that he'd just come south to see his
pal instead of the run he had made for his life.  It was pointless to
think about it anyway, since he'd already heard through the grapevine
that his dad and older brother were dead.  They'd never found his
mother...  Bemmy shook his head and concentrated on what Pauli was
saying.

"... back to Barrow, man.  I hear it's safe there now.  We could
take my uncle's Astro, be there in no time.  Roads are shitty this
time of year... worse since the plows quit going.  We should go."  

Bemmy drained his cup and signaled the weary-looking waitress for
another coffee.  He pushed his half-eaten scone around on his plate,
jabbing an index finger into the filling and smearing it all over the
table.  The waitress dropped off his coffee and shuffled away without
giving him grief for making a mess.  He dumped more creamer into the
hot brew, not bothering to answer Pauli, who exhaled noisily and
impatiently.

"Bem?  You hear me?  We should go, man.  Nothing here for us - it's
not safe anymore.  Let's just do it."  Pauli tapped his fingers
impatiently on the sticky table.  Once he made up his mind to do
something he was out the door... not so with Bemmy, who was slow to
motivate and a born procrastinator.  His brown eyes bore into Bemmy,
who sighed and gulped down half a cup before he bothered to reply.

"What makes you think it'll be any better up there, huh?  A couple
of old farts on a goddamn computer, talking out their asses?  I saw
it, Pauli.  Watched it happen and got the fuck outta there before it
could get me too.  It's dead up there.  I told you that."  Pauli
shook his head.

"No.  Not everyone.  I just heard from somebody there, some old lady
who knew your dad.  She says a hundred people stayed behind.  Says
they burned all the bodies, the ones who were infected.  A couple of
white guys - new to the area, I guess - they came up and did it. 
Burned the food drop too."  Bemmy stared at his pal in confusion.

"White guys?  In Barrow?  Willingly?  They must be stupid. Whites
don't make it there worth a shit.  And they ate their food, that
boxed crap they all want; lazy asses wouldn't go out and think to
hunt for their meat.  I saw it. Maybe some of them lived but I swear
they all left.   And I know one thing: if anyone's still alive up
there they won't be white.  No more food drops, right?" Bemmy threw
his crumpled napkin into his coffee cup and watched the paper turn
brown from the dregs left in the bottom.  Pauli reached out a hand
and shook his friend's arm.

"We got nothing holding us here, Bem.  I don't. And you don't if I
go.  My Linda... she's gone..." He swallowed back the lump
threatening to choke his throat at the mention of his wife, and
dashed away bitter tears before continuing.  "You think I want to
hang around here?  Goddamn ghost town.  Everywhere I look, I see it,
Bem.  You know... I told you.  Nothing I could do to save her,
Jesus... came home and there she was.  Opened up like a sardine can. 
That fucking... thing..."  

Pauli's voice broke and he buried his face in his hands and his
shoulders shook.  Bemmy sighed and reached across the table to clasp
his friend's shoulder.  Right about now he was really glad he'd never
bothered getting close enough to a woman to feel pain at her passing.
He cleared his throat and his voice was low and raw.

"What would we do there, Pauli?  Think about it.  Nothing there when
the world was alive, man!  Double nothing there now.  You gotta look
at the truth of it.  So maybe a hundred people stay behind.  Maybe
they're all Inup.  Probably are; you know the Tlingits got the hell
out the last big election.  Moved back to Nome, good riddance!" 
Bemmy resisted the urge to spit, as he was wont to do when he thought
about his families' traditional rivals.  He rubbed at his burning
eyes, then his voice softened as he again regarded Pauli.

"Look, man.  We need to live, best we can.  Maybe I don't wanna stay
here but I sure as hell don't wanna go back to Barrow.  No way of
knowing for sure if the danger's past up there, any more than here. 
I say we just get the hell outta the North."  Pauli raised his head
and gaped at his friend's suggestion.

"Bem, are you stupid?  Haven't you been following what the hell's
been going on in the world?  Bees, asshole!  That's what did this. 
Bees that THEY let loose all over the fucking world, dude!  I heard
all about it from that old lady.  Some kind of virus.  Killed off
everyone.  Those white guys, they knew all about the virus and how it
went down.  I heard they're FBI - well they were, I guess.  They flew
in from one of the villages, shit if I know which one - and they told
everybody to burn the dead people.  One of the whites that came up
with them is a doctor or something.  Some lady. She's in that village
too, making a cure for this thing, whatever the hell it is."  Pauli
stood up and tossed a few bills on the table, then shrugged into his
jacket as he regarded his best friend in the world.  A much-smaller
world, nowadays... He sighed and nudged Bemmy once, to make him look
up.

"I gotta go.  I'm leaving day after tomorrow, as soon as I finish
packing.  I have to get outta here, Bem - too many memories of Linda.
The offer's open.  I want you to come, dude - you're my best friend. 
Think about it, okay?  You know where to find me."  With a final clap
on Bemmy's shoulder, Pauli took himself off.

Alone at the table, Bemmy pushed his cup aside and leaned his arms
on the scarred Formica, absently rubbing at his cheek where a sore
tooth was rapidly turning into a problem.  Of the sparse amount of
people left in Drinkwater, he was sure there wasn't a dentist to be
found.  He'd just have to suffer until he got to a bigger place. 
Maybe Regina...

Bemmy didn't want to go back to Barrow.  There was nothing left for
him in a shit-small place like that.  Not that Drinkwater was any
better... he'd only come here to see Pauli.  Bemmy sighed, and stood
up, stretching.  He caught a brief glimpse of Pauli walking through
the empty parking lot of the cafe and resisted the urge to wave at
him, instead tossing on his jacket and grabbing up the bills. He took
them to the tired-eyed waitress who rang him up and gave him the
change that he gave right back to her as a tip.  She managed a tiny
grimace that served to pass as a smile, and as he turned to go her
raspy voice stopped him.

"Hey, kid - I couldn't help but overhear... your pal was right. 
Don't go south.  I hear it's a mess down there - people dying left
and right."  She slammed the register shut on the last words of her
advice and nodded once before walking away.  And as Bemmy shook his
head and dug through his pockets for his keys, he never noticed the
figure in the long black parka who had been sitting in the booth
behind him and Pauli.  He never saw the way that shrouded figure had
risen silently and had followed Pauli out the door.

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

Pauli had almost reached the darkened corner of the parking lot, and
his truck, when his arm was grasped from behind, and twisted up
against his back, forcing a cry of shocked pain from his lips.  He
struggled helplessly against the force that had him pinned and was
pulling him along the secluded lot toward the only vehicle parked
there.  A low rasp in his ear... "Get in.  I'll kill you if you say
anything."  The figure yanked at the driver's door and pushed Pauli
in, then climbed in after him, still gripping his arm in a bruising
hold.  Another raspy, "Keys.  Which pocket?"  Pauli fought back a
wave of nausea brought on by the unrelenting pain in his arm, and
managed to point to his pocket, taking them out at his captor's terse
insistence, hand shakily forced into inserting the key at an awkward
angle, into the ignition.  The figure released his arm and flung him
into the far corner of the passenger's seat; Pauli made to sit up and
his uninjured arm reached for the door handle - at about the same
time he found a gun shoved in his face.

"I think not.  Don't move, or I'll kill you."  Pauli let go of the
handle and leaned away as far from the gun as he could, watching
though frightened eyes as his truck was started up and driven out of
the lot.  Briefly, looking out the window, he registered the sight of
Bemmy ambling slowly over to his own car, no way of knowing what sort
of trouble his pal had found for himself...  Pauli located his voice
and it came out in a squeak.

"What d'you want of me?"  The shroud turned to face him briefly;
Pauli caught a glimpse of a bearded face and shaggy hair, dark eyes -
before the face turned his attention back to the road.

"Shut the fuck up."  They drove out of the lot and down the street
out of town, hitting the highway in silence.  Pauli eyed the gun
pointed at him; it was held in a steady gloved hand.  Too close to
his head for him to try anything -

Ten minutes and as many miles later they were out of town and on a
deserted stretch of road.  The truck was pulled over and stopped; in
the darkness the man turned to Pauli and edged the barrel of the gun
up under his chin.  In a low voice, the man started asking questions.

"Tell me about the white men in Barrow... the ones who burned the
bodies.  And when you're done telling me you can describe this
village, and whatever you know about that lady doctor there..."

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

In the kitchen of the little cafe, the waitress with the tired eyes -
Pat was her name - pulled out a large metal bowl and began dumping
flour and sugar into it, preparing to make more scones.  Pat loved
scones - and she never ate them when she baked them.  She was too fat
and was forever on a diet.  Even in times like these, when there
didn't seem a point anymore to care about her appearance Pat still
clung to habits too deeply ingrained to break.  She made three
different kinds of scones and never touched them.

Pat leveled out the margarine and cut it into the flour mixture. 
She hated that her scones had to be made without butter, but there
wasn't any more butter, much less milk - because she refused to have
it in her place.  She wasn't stupid.  If the meat was infected with
whatever had been killing people, then so was the milk.  It was the
difference between cows and cattle - but since no one seemed to know
how the cattle had gotten infected Pat refused to take chances. 
She'd gone to the corner supermarket and bought up all the powdered
milk she could find.  It tasted like shit to drink but in cooking it
was tolerable.  

Pat had been on a strict diet for months now, and had finally begun
to lose some weight.  There had been this one trucker, from Regina -
Nathan.  He'd been giving her the eye lately, when he would come
through town.  He loved her apple scones... Pat smiled as she worked
the dough.  Nathan was one hell of a man, big and brawny - and he'd
shown her some marked interest after she'd managed to drop fifty
pounds.  She'd still had a ways to go, but things had been looking up.

Then Nathan stopped coming by, sometime in October after the
beginning of the mess that had now become the world... Pat knew in
her heart he had not survived the infection.  And she shaped her
scone dough on greased cookie sheets while fighting back tears. 
Sometimes a tear or two would fall on the dough - Pat didn't suppose
any of her customers would mind, or care.  

And even though the odds of Nathan again walking through the door of
her little cafe shrunk more every day, Pat continued to diet,
continued to deny herself the comfort of food.  Or maybe she was too
grief-stricken to eat.  It didn't much matter.  She made her scones
and her dwindling customers ate them and teased her gently about this
or that, and she answered them on auto-pilot and took their money and
their tips, and waited for a brawny-shouldered man to come walking
through her doors...

As the scones baked Pat carefully put away the flour and sugar tins,
and the eggs she collected from the hens she had just begun to raise
herself - not trusting outside egg sources anymore.  A meatless cafe
that served salads and scones and used powdered milk and non-dairy
creamer in the coffee... Pat supposed she was doing everything she
could to protect her customers.  

As she put away the large tub of what she sarcastically referred to 
as "fake butter", she had no way of knowing just what ingredients
went into "Nature's Best" Margarine...

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

Bemmy was halfway to the Drink Inn when the pains started.

At first he thought it was just a massive indigestion attack from
all the coffee he'd gulped down.  Coffee had always given him
trouble.  Except Bemmy knew he'd only had three cups that day...  

When the second wave hit him he almost doubled over and ran off the
road.  Reflexively his foot jammed on the brake and the truck
shuddered to a slow skid, sliding on the shoulder of the road and
hitting a hard ridge of snow bank before it turned in a lazy circle
and stopped.  Bemmy slumped over the steering column and sucked in
several pain-jabbing breaths.  His insides were twisting into knots
and his heart was beating so fast it felt as if it would explode from
his chest any minute.  He fought down the escalating panic that was
invading his senses... something was wrong, much more seriously wrong
than a goddamn gas attack.  Bemmy ran a shaky hand over his face, and
managed to get the door open.  Maybe if he got some air he'd feel
better.  He hung onto the door with both hands as he swung one
rubbery leg after the other out of the cab and got one foot on the
ground.  Heaving a relieved breath, thinking the worst of it might be
over...

Five seconds later Bemmy was on the frozen ground in a foot of snow,
his body clenching and convulsing... his eyes rolling back in his
dead-white-faced head, the squiggles of black oil very pronounced as
they slithered underneath the skin of his cheeks, and filled up the
last remaining humanity of his doomed soul.

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

On the other side of Drinkwater, another truck parked on the side of
another road had its door open as well - and a body fell from the cab
and landed in a heap in the drifting snow.  Twitching once, twice -
then shuddering violently before finally stiffening, and going very
still.  The utter darkness hid the oil that dripped from several
orifices, exiting the body and going in search of a new home, only to
become inert by the freezing effect of the snow...

In the cab the shrouded figure in the long black parka started up
the engine and fiddled with the radio, not surprised to find a lot of
white noise and dead air time.  Reaching across the seat to pull the
open door closed, locking it as well - the driver threw the truck
into gear and moved out.  

The boy hadn't coughed up as much information as he should have,
considering he'd had a gun shoved underneath his chin.  He'd been
brave.  Or stupid... whatever; it was a moot point.  When he'd felt
the pains come; when he'd felt the alien invader in his body he'd
begun to moan and gasp, had forked over a paltry amount of pertinent
facts.  It wasn't detailed but it was better than nothing - and when
his eyes had begun to swirl over with oil, made even more gruesome in
appearance backlit by the green glow of the interior dash lights - he
had been pushed out into the snow, there to finish out what small bit
of life he had left in his dying body.  

The truck turned onto the main highway and headed northwest.  The
driver had a long trip ahead, but that was all right.  The general
destination had been discovered, the targeted area within three small
villages.  The gas tank was full and there were plenty of places to
fuel up along the way.  Maybe a week... maybe two; the roads were
surprisingly clear.  Only one village held a handful of white people,
one of which was a female doctor busily laboring to create a vaccine.

Three chances, and only one was the right place.  Piece of cake... no
scones, though.  Not scones made with margarine which was processed
from corn oil...

The truck drove on through the frigid night.

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


~ Chapter Thirty ~


March roared in with both Mulder and Scully ready to set their bed
on fire - and not by having wild hot sex smack dab in the middle of
it. They had to replace that sagging mattress or they'd never get a
decent nights' sleep, especially Scully, whose back was aching more
and more frequently.

When he found out the bulk of the village's furniture and household
goods had been moved to a large supply shed out in back of the small
greenhouse, Mulder decided to investigate. 

Although quite a few cabins had been left furnished, the now-
inhabited places had been stripped of their furnishings and then re-
furnished, as their new inhabitants had deemed necessary.  Mulder
felt badly about this, as did the others.  But being practical was of
utmost importance, and as Skinner had said before... it was a sure
bet these people would not be coming home.

It was a sad and sobering thought.

Snapping on a dim overhead light, Mulder poked through the cluttered
shed.  It was very cold; in the bitterness of winter there was no way
to get heat out to any of the sheds.  Luckily nothing in these little
buildings would be damaged due to freezing temperatures - except for
the idiots crazy enough to spend any amount of time looking through
them...  

Like him.

Mulder blew on his gloved fingers as he searched through the stacked-
up mattresses against a far wall.  He found one that looked fairly
sturdy; as he began to pull it away from the others he noticed the
record player standing in the corner partially obscured by the rest
of the mattresses.  Pushing the bulky mattress back against the
others, Mulder tugged at the player curiously, thinking it looked a
lot like the one he'd had as a kid.  He dragged it away from the wall
and flipped the lid.

Actually this one was a lot nicer than the one he'd owned, because
there was a little drawer inside the box that held 45 singles. 
Mulder opened the drawer and sorted through the records, momentarily
forgetting the extreme cold as the titles of the singles brought back
memories from him.  Although a lot of the songs were actually before
his time Mulder still knew almost all of them mostly because he had
inherited so many singles from his older cousin Linda when she'd
married and moved away from the Vineyard.  He picked up a handful and
sifted through them, smiling at the tunes he spun in his head as the
titles came to light:  "He's So Fine"; "Chapel of Love"; "Mule-
Skinner Blues"; "Take Good Care of My Baby"... 

He found himself humming little snatches of the beloved tunes as he
looked through the pile.  And he thought of how nice it would be to
hear some of them again, how maybe the music would just make a body
feel so good... And Scully had been so tense lately, feeling large
and bloated and unattractive.  No amount of assurances from him, of
her utter loveliness and desirability had seemed to reassure her...

Impulsively, Mulder gathered up the single records and plopped them
back into the drawer, then locked the player and carried it over to
the door.  Maybe he'd surprise Scully with some real 'feel-good'
tunes as well as a new mattress...

It was late afternoon when Scully returned from the clinic. She was
so tired, and this day had been particularly difficult.  So close to
isolating the damned vaccine, but something kept defeating her.  And
the feeling that they were running out of time... it was
disheartening as hell.  She sighed heavily as she opened the door,
feeling every one of her six months of pregnancy weighing down upon
her.  Her back ached. She walked into the cabin... and stared in
shock at the sight before her.

Candlelight, that was the first thing she noticed.  There were
candles everywhere; on the table and on the little pot-bellied stove,
which burned a cheery fire, the grate left open to send the glow of
the flames across the room.  She could hear music, and her startled
gaze leapt to a little record player in the corner of the room. 
Where on earth had that come from?  It was playing "Since I Fell For
You", one of her favorite oldies.  Scully stood in the middle of her
cabin; listening and smiling... then her nose caught the smell of
something delicious cooking.  Mmmm... smelled like caribou chili. 
Mulder cooked a mean caribou chili; Sarah had taught him.

Speaking of Mulder... She called softly for him.  And his head
appeared from around the bedroom door, tousle-haired, tender smile on
his face as he saw her standing there in her heavy parka.  He walked
over to her and she gawked when she saw what he was wearing.  

Oh, Mulder...

He wore her favorite outfit; she had completely forgotten the gray
tee shirt and his faded jeans, the soft tight ones.  What he wore
that fateful day so long ago when he told her that she made him a
whole person... the closest they had come to an actual commitment,
and a kiss.  And what he'd been wearing the night they'd made their
escape from his apartment and had begun the journey that had led them
here... Scully stared at him wordlessly and her heart melted.  Mulder
smiled at her and reached for her parka, unzipping and helping her
out of it as he murmured to her.

"Hey, Scully... have I got a night planned for you..."

An hour later Scully was feeling like the most pampered queen;
Mulder had been an angel to her, even more so than usual.  He'd led
her to their bedroom and helped her lie down on her side, and as she
had sunk onto the mattress she'd noted the new firmness of it.  He'd
found her a better mattress... she'd sighed and relaxed, then felt
him behind her, rubbing her back.  Oooh, a massage... just what she'd
needed. For over half an hour Mulder had massaged every inch of her,
including her aching feet.  As he'd massaged he'd whispered silly
things in her ear, making her laugh.  The old music playing in the
background had been a perfect accompaniment for his ministrations.

Then he'd propped her up against a small mountain of pillows, and
served her dinner in bed, feeding her and laughingly slapping her
hands away when she'd protested that she wasn't a baby.  His low
whisper had shivered over her ear.

"Yes, you are.  You're my baby.  You've had a hard day and I want to
feed you and make you feel good.  So put those hands down, Scully...
and let me take care of you."  He'd spooned chili and crumbly
buttered biscuit into her mouth, until she couldn't eat another bite
and she leaned against the pillows, replete.  Full of good food and
warm with the fire and loosely relaxed from the wonderful massage,
she had fallen into a light doze.

She awoke about an hour later; the candles were still flickering and
the smell of chili still hung in the air, though not as strongly.
Scully turned her head on the pillow, to find Mulder sitting next to
her, holding her hand and smoothing the fingers of his free hand
through her hair gently.  She smiled up at him and he returned her
smile with a kiss and a soft, "Feel better?"  She stretched and
sighed, snuggling closer to him.

"Mmmm, yes, Mulder - I feel wonderful.  My backache is completely
gone, thanks to you."  Her gaze settled on him, her eyebrow quirked
curiously.  "So, what did I do to deserve this wonderful pampering?" 
Mulder kissed her again, on her mouth and then on each eye, before
answering.

"I think the answer to that may well be, what haven't you done,
Scully?  You have been working too hard and not thinking of yourself
at all.  You haven't been eating well and I know you haven't been
sleeping.  I just wanted you to relax this evening, and forget
everything but how much I love you."  So saying, he rose from the bed
and reached out for her hand, pulling her into a sitting position. 
Scully gazed at him as he smiled a little lopsided grin, and
whispered to her, "Dance with me, Scully."

She looked down at her large belly and chuffed out a depreciating
laugh.  "Mulder, I look like a beached whale.  I can barely see my
feet to move them.  You can't want to dance with something this
ungainly."

He slipped his arms around her and pressed her close to his pounding
heart.  His loving murmur went straight to her soul and lodged
there... 

"Scully, you are the most beautiful woman on earth.  You have never
looked more desirable to me and yes, I want to hold you close and
dance with you and I promise not to step on your toes."  His earnest
hazel eyes were locked on hers; assuring her he had never been more
truthful.  Scully blinked back sudden tears, and hugged him.

"Okay... I'll dance with you..."

In the living room Mulder had already moved the chair and the small
sofa back into the wall; a new stack of records were loaded onto the
player and the candles were burning low.  They faced each other in
the soft dimness of their warm cabin and Mulder's arms came around
her rounded body gently, bringing her to his heart.  As the little
player dropped another single, he held her close and guided her into
the dance.   The tune was slow and poignant...

'Kiss me each morning for a million years, 
Hold me each evening at your side. 
Tell me you love me for a million years -
Then if it don't work out, Then if it don't work out -
Then you can tell me goodbye...'

He led her around the small living room in a slow, careful circle,
pressed into his arms, their unborn child nestled and cradled between
them.  His head bent and he laid his cheek against her soft fiery
hair as he sang the words to her. 

'Sweeten my coffee with a morning kiss, 
Soften my dreams with your sighs. 
Tell me you love me for a million years -
Then if it don't work out, Then if it don't work out -
Then you can tell me goodbye...'

The lovely old melody swirled through and around them, as they
danced, the lyrics never more meaningful than when applied to their
love.  In their thick wool socks, shuffling around on the faded
carpet of a cabin in the middle of nowhere, as isolated as they could
possibly be... still the bounty of their blessings overwhelmed them
both.  

Scully pressed herself closer against her husband's body as they
danced, feeling more cherished than she'd ever felt in her life. 
Everything about Mulder comforted her as much as excited her; his
strength and his love and caring; even his scent was a comfort.  She
rose up on tip-toes and burrowed her nose against his neck, inhaling
the heady combination of scents that made up the essence of Mulder...

Warm cotton, the layer that presses the skin; a touch of soap and
something just shy of spicy. An underlying smell of musk and good,
clean sweat; the kind that always made her want to hug him,
especially when he'd been standing in the sun and his body would be
warmed through and through. It didn't matter where she buried her
nose because the smell of him would wash over her like a wave and
she'd sink down into it, willingly... Eau de Fox Mulder, and it was
hers to enjoy, hers to treasure.  She opened her mouth against his
throat and let his pulse beat on her tongue as she tasted him...
 
One of the sweetest things about holding Scully had always been the
way she fit into his embrace, Mulder thought as they swayed to the
slow, sweet music.  Her head could lay upon his chest in just the
right place to catch the thud of his heart as her nearness made it
pound itself silly... the full press of her against him never failed
to stir him deeply.  The feel of their child nestled in her womb,
tiny feet kicking her as he cupped the low of her back and supported
her there - if he lived to be a thousand he would never forget the
way that felt - the movement of his child against him, inside the
woman who adored them both...  Then her mouth nuzzled his throat and
it felt so good...  His voice faded to a mere thread of sound as he
sang more of the song into her soft hair.

'If you must go then I won't grieve -
If you wait a lifetime before you leave...' 

Scully felt the tears well in her eyes and slip quietly down her
cheeks as the significance of those words touched her heart.  It
almost seemed as if it had taken her a lifetime to get here, in this
very spot at this very moment.  To think of how many times she had
wanted to reach for it, but had been afraid - or too proud - or too
stubborn... To rejoice in the knowledge that she'd finally begun the
reaching and had discovered that he'd met her halfway.  She lowered
her head back to his chest and pressed her wet cheek against his
heartbeat.

She didn't bother to hide her tears or wipe them away.  Touched to
her very soul by the depth of her love for this man, she had no
worries and no concerns; here at this time everything was right in
the world.  She sighed brokenly into his chest as the song spun out
and he sang more of the lyrics to her, his voice now gone hoarse with
emotion.

'But if you must go, I won't tell you no -
Just so that we can say we tried -
Tell me you love me for a million years...'

"Mulder?"  Her hoarse little whisper broke into his soft singing,
and he leaned down into her face and smiled at her, wiping at her
tears even as she reached up one small hand and stroked over his own
damp face.  He kissed her nose.

"What, Scully?  Are you okay?  Do you want to sit down?"  She shook
her head and her reply made him tighten all over.

"I feel wonderful, Mulder.  I just want you to take me to bed..."

The simple, low words made his heart swell...

They left the records spinning out on the old turntable, and Mulder
took his wife to bed.  He lifted her in his arms like a baby - his
baby, as he'd told her - and carried her to the bed, the covers
turned down and already warm for her.

Mulder laid her on the soft sheets and Scully sighed and wriggled
into their fleecy comfort.  She lifted a woolly foot and Mulder
chuckled as he stripped off her socks, then slipped her flannel
leggings down her slender legs and tossed them on the floor.  Her
heavy flannel smock came off next, followed by the baggy cotton
turtleneck, and before she had a chance to begin shivering he covered
her body with the warmth of his own.  Knowing her breasts were tender
and swollen this far into the pregnancy he left her bra alone,
figuring she needed the support - and he framed her face between his
hands and held her close as he kissed her mouth, and her rounded
cheeks.  Tender, so tender - she needed extra heapings of tenderness
right now.  And for Mulder it was his privilege to provide his
wife just what she needed...

For Scully the culmination of her evening couldn't have been more
perfectly executed.  Pampered and loved, cherished and treasured...
Mulder gave her this and so much more.  His tongue traced within her
mouth in delicious swirls and deep hungry strokes and his hands
mimicked the same strokes upon her body.  With nimble fingers and the
innate knowledge of what she liked the best, he brought her to
shivering life beneath him.  He slipped a tender index finger in and
around her silky wet flesh, finding all the sensitive places to rub
and tease... and his mouth swallowed her gasp of release when she
trembled and convulsed against his hand. He watched her face as she
flushed rosy pink with the force of her climax.  So incredibly
gorgeous... 

Mulder tamped down hard on his own desires, preferring to take
satisfaction instead in the easing of Scully's tension and weariness,
knowing she needed it far more than he did.  In his eagerness to give
to her he had forgotten to undress, and now lay upon the bed next to
his sated and sleepy wife, still fully clothed.  He grinned at her
when her eyes fluttered open and she mumbled, "Mulder... you're still
dressed... take off your clothes; I want to do you..."  The sensual
effect of her words lost some of their punch when she emitted a huge
yawn as she spoke.  Mulder laughed aloud and kissed her sweetly.

"Baby, you're half asleep already.  I don't think you should worry
about me right now - I'll take a rain check.  Just sleep, okay?  Let
me get your pajamas on, and then sleep in my arms."  He grabbed her
pajamas from under the pile of pillows and helped her into them,
adding, "Are your breasts bothering you? Want to leave the bra on?"
She nodded sleepily.

"Mmmm, they're so sore.  They feel better if they're supported." 
Mulder buttoned her into the top and slipped the loose waistband of
the bottoms up over her legs, and put her socks back on.  He stripped
down to his thermal underwear and curled himself around her, face to
face, and they shared a pillow, their eyes staring into each other's
as he tugged the covers over both of them.  And under the covers her
small hands found him and slid inside the flap of his bottoms, and
her fingers wrapped around his penis, still swollen.  He sighed into
her mouth as he kissed her goodnight.

"That feels so good, Scully... holding me like that.  So good..."  

As the last echoes of the final song played on the little record
player, they fell asleep. 

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

It was hot in the bedroom; Mulder flung off the covers and rolled
over onto his back, sprawled out and too sleepy to get up and shut
the door of their room to keep out the bulk of the heat emanating
from their little stove.  So warm in the room... hot.  He sighed and
fought against the need to awaken, preferring to continue the dream
in which he'd become enmeshed.  He flung an arm over his face and
breathed into the crook of his elbow, "Scullymmmm..."

In his dream her soft wet mouth was everywhere, on all the spots
he'd so needed it to be just a few short hours ago when he'd forced
himself to fall asleep still hard and needy.  It hadn't been about
him, anyway - it had been about Scully.  What she needed - what made
her feel good.  And this dream of his was almost as good as the real
thing, for it was so vivid.  He could feel the tender scrape of her
nails around his balls, smell her light perfume mixed with the body
oil he'd rubbed on her skin, with an underlay of pure, delectable
Scully. 

So vivid... her mouth.  God... Even in dreams it was the most
amazing feeling... wet.  Hot.  Generous to a fault. Wanting to return
the favor... a rain check.  And it wasn't even raining outside...

He groaned into the heat of their small bedroom, his dream-hands
moving down to winnow into her dream-hair...

And the silky, very real feel of those strands against his palms
woke him up in a hurry, one eye squinting open, and looking to see
what he was holding.  Not a pillow... hell, no.

He was holding Scully's head.  And Scully was holding him, her mouth
engulfing him... loving him.  Jesus...

Mulder arched into her and another deep groan worked its way out of
his throat as her tongue slipped and moved against him.  Her hands
cupped him gently as she worked him; now shallow, now deep.  Deep...
and she was humming in her throat, the vibration of it driving him
wild.  Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up into his smoky gaze,
her own hot and intense.  

And he needed it to last forever... 

There was no way in hell it could last forever.  Not when she
flicked the very tip with her front teeth, and at the same time
squeezed him and swirled the flat of her tongue over him like a cat. 
Three movements in one, calculated to make him explode.

It worked.  Every inch of his body tensed as his climax built up in
about one second, and the hoarse shout he released into the air of
the bedroom could have shaken the windows if they hadn't been
shuttered and locked...

A full minute later Mulder was still trembling.  He tugged at
Scully, who'd laid her cheek against his thigh and was gazing at him
with so much love in her eyes he could actually feel it more than see
it in the dimness of their room.  He wrapped a hand around the back
of her neck and urged her up carefully, until she was pressed to him
full-length.  He kissed her and she tasted like Scully and sex and
him... he shuddered and whispered to her, "Thought it was a dream,
Scully..." 

She grinned at him and her kiss was so gentle he could have imagined
it.

"It was a dream, Sweetheart... go back to sleep..."  He yawned and
nodded.

"'Kay... Love you, Baby."  Her answering murmur slipped in and out
of his consciousness as he felt himself sucked down into the waves of
sleep again.  

"Love you, Mulder..."  

They slept through the night, wrapped up together.

****************
END OF PART THREE