BedSprings(1/4)*Authors notes [VM]: Once upon a time there was a girl in Ontario and one in Illinois who had waaaay too much time on their hands. And they liked to write. And one day, one of them (and I'll be darned if I can remember which one) said, 'let's write something together'. And this is the result. It is a relationship story. It is an alternate universe story. It's an angsters paradise. It brings in a couple of new characters who we hope you will learn to love as much as we have. And it spawned a whole new set of questions : ) But we had a blast doing it. NO SPOILERS (it took us so long, I think we might have started it before season three premiered) Some parts are rated mild R--really really mild R--and the rest is PG. Oh, we do use a couple of nasty words, but only in context. Char, do you want to say a few words? (make it brief, kid. The natives look restless) *Authors Notes [CH]: Uh, is there anything left to say? Oh yeah, Vickie lied, there are a few spoilers, I think. At least a few from the beginning of season three. Tunnels, Vick... Anyway, you can debate that between yourselves. Brief? You write half a page and I get to make mine brief? Okay... Uhm, it's been a pleasure working with Vickie. She's the second person I've ever written with and I must say I'm delighted the way this has turned out. It was a long time in the writing but worth the wait (well, for myself, anyway) so I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it... Hey! Put those bloody spears down... Okay, shutting up... *Disclaimer: We wouldn't infringe for the world! We love you CC and we are more than willing to let you make all the money in the world off these characters. And when I get more than one client, I (vm) plan on buying stock in FOX so that I can say I own a little piece of them, too :) And now, on with the show: T h e - - \ / X BED SPRINGS / \ By Vickie Moseley & Charleyne Hall - - vmoseley@fgi.net F i l e s drakkar@bconnex.net Part One ----- Kingsley Hotel, Conference Wing Washington, DC August 17, 1996 It was unbelievably warm in the auditorium. He couldn't concentrate on the speaker. He couldn't concentrate on anything. He was too worried about the sweat that seemed to drip endlessly from his brow, threatening to land on his tuxedo, staining it. He wiped his forehead with a small handkerchief and strained to pay attention. ". . . And as a pleasant surprise, we have some positions opening up this year that are open to our best field agents. . ." the man at the podium said. Fox Mulder just couldn't stand it any more. He muttered something to the woman next to him, an agent he'd never seen before, and carefully made his way down the row of people to reach the exit. He pushed out the door and stood for a few moments, letting the silence of the room envelope him. He was in a bigger room, a lobby, which had several other rooms and hallways that branched off in all directions. He released a sigh and ran a hand through his neatly kept brown hair. He took a few breaths, then made his way to a table which held cups of drinks in Dixie cups. He smiled and took a glass of water. The coolness of the liquid over his tongue made him feel much better. He paused one more time, drinking down the last of the water, before returning to the auditorium from which he had just come. He took a seat near the back of the room, so that if he had to leave again, he'd be able to make a hasty exit. He paid closer attention to the speaker this time, while looking over the crowded room. It was filled with FBI agents from all different fields, all dressed immaculately and all sitting patiently, waiting to hear who would get the next award, promotion or commendation. There were a great many female agents, as well as male, most dressed formally. He glanced about the crowd, looking for his partner. When he didn't see her, he assumed that she'd left the room for some air, just as he had. He stopped searching and turned his attention back to the speaker, but soon after he had finished talking. There was no mention of his name or his partner's. He was glad in a way. He knew they should have been rewarded in some way for the most recent case they had solved, but he didn't want a public display. It was all too fresh in his memory and he didn't want to relive it in front of a roomful of strangers. The auditorium quickly began to empty, tired and hot agents streaming out. Mulder walked casually among them, then found a spot near the wall where he could stand and drink his water in relative peace. Before long, he found himself getting bored. He watched, with an amused grin, as the Assistant Director of the FBI began to walk towards him. When the man reached him, he held out his hand. "Agent Mulder," Walter Skinner said as Mulder shook his hand. Mulder was somewhat confused as to why the FBI A.D. would be so boldly shaking his hand. "Sir?" he asked. "Have you seen Agent Scully?" Skinner asked, scanning the room for the woman Mulder himself had been looking for, earlier. "No, sir, I haven't. I don't even know if she's here," he said. It was unlike Dana Scully not to show up to a mandatory awards ceremony, and Mulder began to feel a pang of worry, although he quickly pushed it away. Scully could take care of herself. "All right. Well, when you see her, I need to see the both of you." Skinner's frown was replaced by a smile as he nodded to Mulder, then made his way off to congratulate some of the other award winners. Mulder watched the tall, balding man for a few minutes, then decided it was time to leave. He searched his pockets for his car keys and then slowly began to walk to the door, clutching them in his hand. ----- FBI Headquarters J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC Mulder breathed a sigh of relief as he walked into the dark office. Dark, except for the glowing monitor in the far corner of the room. In the glow, he could see the silhouette of a person. He smiled then. "Scully?" he asked, closing the door, removing his coat and blindly hanging it on the coat rack beside the door. "Mulder," she said. He took a moment to turn and flick on the light of the office. For a moment his eyes needed to adjust, he blinked. When he opened his eyes, he could see Scully sitting behind the console. She wore a green strapless dress, that fit to her body perfectly. Her auburn hair was shiny and curled, locks of it hanging in her green eyes. Mulder suppressed a reaction that had triggered deep in his stomach and had tried to work its way through out his body. He sighed, pulling at his bow tie, as he crossed the room to sit in a chair next to her. "So, what are you doing?" he asked, puzzled. "Working on the report we were supposed to file yesterday," she replied, then turned her gaze to him. "You didn't go, did you?" The look on her face told him the answer already. "No. I didn't feel like going. I got all dressed up, then decided that I wasn't going to go. Besides," she tapped the monitor. "This was really supposed to be in." "Scully, maybe you should stop working for just a moment," he said, then he reached for her hand. "What's really bothering you?" he asked. He thought he saw her curse under her breath, but she only gave him a weak smile. "Mulder, I'm just not feeling so well," she said, but he knew she was lying. "Have you eaten anything tonight?" He allowed the lie slide. "Not yet but--" "But nothing. Since we're both all dressed up, we're going out for dinner. I'll buy," he said. Scully gave him a grin. "Well, if it's your treat, then I can't pass that up," she reached forward and tugged at his tie. "Need any help with that?" she asked, indicating the tie that hung loosely around his neck. There wasn't a mirror that he could look in to do it up again. "I suppose," he said, standing up and moving back so that she'd be able to reach. He watched as she got out of the chair in a liquid motion, the green pumps on her feet adding a bit of height. She reached forward and gently tied the tie. As he felt the closeness of her, that feeling rose again. This time he allowed it to linger longer, before pushing it to the side and washing it away with thoughts of their friendship. "Did Skinner talk to you yet?" she asked as she stepped away to look at his tie, making sure it wasn't crooked. "About?" "Well, I'm not sure I should--" she said, then stopped. Mulder stepped forward and gripped her bare shoulders gently. "Believe me, if I'm getting into trouble again, I'd like to know about it." He fixed her with an unnerving stare, hoping to get her to talk. He knew she'd tell him anyway, but he liked to make her feel intimidated. "That's just it, Mulder. You're not getting into trouble," she said. The unnerving stare wasn't working so well. It sounded as though she wasn't going to tell him. "Well, then I guess I can wait for Skinner to tell me," he said, although he would try other tactics later, when she least suspected it. She nodded, picking up her purse and jacket from the back of her chair. "You're going to get it for not showing, Scully," Mulder teased as they left the office, heading for the fresh night air of Washington, DC. ----- Dana Scully picked at the salad, watching as Mulder devoured his steak. She didn't feel much like eating. In fact, she was so torn up inside that she really didn't even feel like being with Mulder. Their last case had been so big, so intense, that neither had gotten much sleep or, for that matter, time to do anything. It had all paid off, though, that being the reason she was so torn up. Skinner had called her at home, the day after they wrapped up the case, to talk. At her home, was the key, that meant something big was happening. She had listened quietly as he used small talk to work his way up to what he really wanted. She remembered back to the conversation. "Hello, Agent Scully?" The man had asked, in an unusually cheerful tone. "Yes?" she'd asked, almost too exhausted to talk to him. She had been lying on her couch peacefully watching an old black and white, soundless movie. "I wanted to congratulate you on your recent success," he stated flatly. "Thank you, sir," she yawned. "Actually, I called for another reason as well. I know I should have perhaps done this in my office, one on one, but it can't wait until your holidays are up." "Sir?" "Well, Dana," he said, using her first name. "There are a few positions opening up that need to be filled as soon as possible..." he trailed off, she could almost picture him pondering what to say next. "The director and I have discussed it. We would like to give you and Agent Mulder the chance to move up in the Bureau," he finally said. Scully had sat up then, turning the annoying television off. The images had begun to hurt her eyes. "Sir, that's great! I'll talk to Mulder and see what he says," she offered, but Skinner had refused. "I prefer to talk to Agent Mulder myself. I will do it at the annual awards service. However, I want you to consider carefully and let me know," he said, then after a few more words had hung up. From that night on, Scully had felt both happiness and a dire sadness. A hand was waving in front of her face. She smiled, focusing on Mulder's face. Just the sight of him made her shiver with an excitement. She pushed the feeling aside, then smiled at him again. She liked it when he dressed formally. It impressed her, as well as others around them, to see *Spooky* Mulder dressed up. His black tuxedo seemed to hang on his body perfectly. His brown hair was brushed and slightly gelled, a few stray strands hanging over his eyes. Even his big hazel eyes had a special allure when he was dressed in such a formal matter. Even though Scully knew that he hated to be dressed like that, she thought he was perfect for it. No other man suited a bow tie like Mulder did. She watched as he played with it now, knowing that he couldn't wait to get out of it. "Did I tie that too tight?" she asked, and he instantly dropped his hand to the table. "Nah, just hate these things." She nodded, then finally stabbed a piece of lettuce and put it into her mouth. As she chewed, she decided that she would tell Mulder she'd been offered a promotion. "Mulder, can we talk for a minute?" she asked, after she'd chewed the lettuce. She wasn't feeling like eating. She pushed the plate away, and set her elbows on the table, folding her hands beneath her chin. "Sure, what's up?" A look of concern crossed his face. You should be concerned, she thought, rather selfishly. "Well, I was talking to Skinner the other night and he mentioned something to me. . ." she trailed off, looking for the much needed words to explain. She knew that telling him about the offer of promotion would upset him. It would mean that she would be leaving the X-Files, probably for good. The fact that he would soon be offered a promotion too, somewhat eased her pain, but she still felt miserable. "And?" he probed, hoping that she would continue. "Well, Mulder, I've been offered a promotion and I'm heavily considering it," she finally blurted, deciding that the best way is the straight way. "Scully, that's great!" he said, not a hint of remorse was in his voice. A great weight lifted off her chest and she found herself breathing a little easier. "Mulder, I thought you'd be upset. . ." "Scully, it's what you've wanted for so long, why would I be upset?" he asked, fixing her with one of the happiest smiles she'd ever seen. There seemed to be something wrong with the picture, but his happiness really looked genuine. "I just thought--" "Scully, believe me, you thought wrong. If you have the chance to move up, then by all means take it! It's the best thing for you. I'll be able to handle the X-Files, heaven knows I've done it before." She smiled then, his words made her feel so much better. "I guess I wanted you to be a little upset," she said, smiling. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, but she waved it off. "Mulder, I'm just so glad that you're okay with this, because I'm seriously considering it." ***** End Part One T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net ----- Mulder's Apartment September 1, 1995 9:37 pm It had all happened so quickly, it still made his head swim. They had both received promotions. Nice hefty promotions that gave them good salary bumps, more vacation days and offices that had heat, and windows. Even though Scully was all the way over in Quantico, and he was still in Headquarters, they ended up at all the same staff meetings, all the same briefings, and managed to talk on the phone to each other about a dozen times a day. In short, it was exactly what he had been hoping for. He closed his eyes for a moment and the image flashed in his mind again. He saw the gun fire, saw the killer's face twist into a sneer as he knew that the bullet would hit his target. He heard himself screaming and pulling his own gun into range and firing before he even saw her fall. And then the killer was down, and Mulder dropped his own weapon, ran over to Scully and was positive he would find her dead. Tears were already streaming down his face as he saw all the blood, the bullet had torn right along the hairline. He was trembling as he lifted her into his arms and he was sobbing and suddenly . . .she was struggling! "You're hurting me, Mulder," she had rasped as she tried to sit up, still dizzy and woozy. "And you're getting my blouse soaked. . ." The bullet had glanced off her temple. The blood was actually much less than it could have been, but seemed ample enough to Mulder. He had practically carried her to the ambulance and strapped her down on the gurney. All the while she was being checked out, he was vowing to himself And this time, he would make it stick. A couple of phone calls to the Hill and suddenly, it was 'Skinner's idea' to promote them to the new positions. His Hill contacts were only too pleased to get Mulder into a 'safer' position. Even Senator Matheson had pointed out that it was hard to 'find the truth' from a grave. Judging from the last year, there were far too many close calls to ignore the wisdom of that statement. He shifted positions on the couch and his gaze fell on the picture of Samantha. He never looked at that picture without a twinge in his heart. "I'm not giving up, Sam. I'm not. It's just that I can't risk Scully's life anymore! Too much has happened, too many times we've been too close and one of these days. . ." he let his voice trail off. "But I'm not giving up. I'm just changing my position on the chess board. I'll be in a different spot, more authority, more responsibility. More like a knight than a pawn. Closer to the top. It can only help me find you, find the truth. I promise." The ringing of the phone broke him out of his reverie. "Mulder." "Are we still on for tomorrow?" asked the all too familiar voice on the other end of the line. "Scully, I don't know. I mean, this is a big step for me. Maybe we should just slow down, let me get used to the idea. . ." "No way am I going to let you out of this now, Mulder," Scully growled into the phone. "It is not healthy for you and you know it. Besides, who ever heard of an ASAC who didn't own a *bed*! If word ever got out. . ." "Okay, okay, point made. But I don't want to spend all day looking at furniture. I'd rather have my teeth drilled. How about a movie or two or three after we make this momentous decision in my life," he teased. "ONLY if you actually BUY the bed, Mulder. That can be your reward. I'll be by at 9:30 to pick you up, so be ready, okay?" "Yes, master," he said in a zombie voice. "See you tomorrow morning," he added and hung up the phone. As long as he still had Scully in his life, the changes he was making were really superficial. It would all work out, he was sure of it. ----- The shopping mall was crowded and Mulder couldn't help but feel a little self conscious. He towered over most of the people, including his friend who now stood beside him, tapping her foot impatiently. "Come on, Mulder, now's not the time to ponder over which pillow case you want," she said, grabbing at the bag which held a plain blue set of pillow cases. "Scully, I thought this was all part of buying the bed. . ." he said, trailing off and looking around the huge department store that she had dragged him into. She smiled at him, waving her hand and indicating the large selection of beds for him to choose from. "Why don't we worry about getting the bed first, then you can dress it on your own!" she said, tossing the pillow cases back onto the rack. She gently took hold of his arm, pulled him to one of the beds then pushed him back onto it. He flopped onto the soft mattress, losing his balance. She towered over him, grinning. "It's perfect, I'll take it," he murmured. "Mulder," she rolled her eyes. "You've at least got to try a few others first!" "Why? I'll never use it," he said, sitting up and bouncing lightly on it. Then a grin crossed his face and he perked up. "Why don't you," he said slowly, then he reached out and roughly pushed her in the stomach, sending her backwards, toppling onto the bed across from him. ". . .test that one out for me?" He watched her bounce. "Hey!" she cried, sitting up and laughing. "Not fair!" Mulder smiled, he didn't know he could have so much fun shopping. He and Scully checked out a few more beds, before deciding on the first one that he'd tried. Mulder pulled out his credit card and paid for it, arranging to have it delivered the following day to his apartment. The clerk who took his card smiled at him, then noticed Scully who was over looking at the pillow cases again. "Don't let your girlfriend pick those for you, you'll end up with pink ones," he said, winking at Mulder. "She's not my--" Mulder began, but then the clerk laughed, as Scully picked up a bag containing pink pillow cases. Mulder turned back to the clerk. "I won't let her buy those. It's bad enough that she's making me get the stupid bed!" he said, reaching out and retrieving his card. He turned and walked away before he could hear the clerk's laugh. "Well, good luck, my friend," the clerk said, and went to help another customer. Mulder smiled as he slowly walked towards Scully. She smiled, holding up a set of blue pillow cases. This was definitely a different Dana Scully. This was not the person who had stood at his back a thousand times, gun drawn, ready to blow away some particularly nasty killer or mutant or whatever they had encountered. This was too much like. . .what had the clerk said? Mulder reminded himself. He shook his head violently. his inner voice chided. His thoughts demanded an answer. Scully had put down the blue pillow cases and had just picked up a set with Marvin the Martian emblazoned on them, proclaiming, "Greetings, Earthling." Her face broke into one of those rare and precious smiles that had welcomed him back in Alaska. She looked up at him, still smiling and holding out the pillowcases for him to see. he answered the inner voice. Mulder grabbed her arm, releasing a chuckle. "Let's just get out of here, Scully. I've had enough shopping for one day." "You did good. I guess I have to keep my end of the bargain: rent some movies and have you over to my place for spaghetti, huh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Nah, Scully, I don't feel like it. Now that you've bullied me into getting a bed, I want to go home and relax on my sturdy old couch," he said, shrugging. "But I am willing to let you rent us some movies and buy us some Chinese take out." "Mulder," Scully began, rolling her eyes. He laughed, then took her arm in his and began to lead her out of the department store. "Scully, I really have to get out of here, before I shoot myself," he complained as they made their way to the car. Scully smiled, feeling the weight of his arm against hers. She almost didn't want to let go when he walked her to the passenger side of the car and waited as he opened the door. ----- FBI Headquarters J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC 7:30 AM Michael Callavelo stood looking around the office. Not much was left from the previous owners. A few posters here and there, two desks and a bunch of filing cabinets which were empty now. A 1994 calendar, resplendent in the fact that most of the women pictured were clothed in little more than enlarged pieces of hardware and tools, was still denoting the month of November. Mickey asked himself. On one corner of the desk was a coffee machine, which was now brewing a pot. He sighed, running a hand through his thick dark hair. Mickey was still a little peeved at ending up here. More punishment, obviously. It was amazing that the same Attorney General who could so blatantly forget the actual events that led up to the Waco fiasco, as the press referred to it, could have such a long memory over a mere slip of the tongue. If FBI agents weren't supposed to talk to the press, why had the PR department set him up with that damn interview to begin with? He pulled open one of the file drawers. An empty folder stared up at him. It had the markings of an X file, blue and white stripes ran the length of the folder. It was empty, waiting for some unexplained occurrence to fill it with paper and photos. What on earth was an X-File anyway? He growled and slammed the drawer shut, venting some of the anger he felt. A low whistle behind him made him gasp and turn around. "You should watch your temper, Big Boy," the tall woman that stood in the doorway said, as she approached carrying a large brief case and a few file folders under her arm. "Chloe Grant, your new partner," she continued, putting the briefcase down and offering her hand. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled, checking his anger slightly. "Michael Callavelo, but you can call me Mickey," he was surprised by the power in her grip. That was generally a good thing. He quickly released her hand, taking a moment to look over her. She wasn't overly beautiful, but she definitely wasn't nasty to look at. She had long locks of sandy blond hair, which she wore loosely pulled into an elastic, wisps hanging behind her ears. Her eyes matched her light azure blazer. She wore a pair of dress pants and some comfortable looking loafers. In other words, the image of a typical agent. Finally he smiled, feeling most of the anger he had previously felt, draining out of him. He looked to the coffee pot and then nodded. "Coffee?" he asked. "Thanks, but no thanks. I've got some Ginseng tea that I'm going to brew up a little later," she replied, picking up her briefcase again. She made her way to the other desk, putting down the file folders and looking around a bit. "Nice office," she said, smiling. "Yeah. Guess who had it before us?" "Spooky Mulder?" "Yup. That's him. He and Doctor Dana Scully had worked here for four years before getting promoted. Now it's ours." "So we can continue on the X-Files. . ." She said, nodding at the small office. "Listen, I don't know if you could tell, but I'm not really all that happy about being here. I'm not even sure just what an X- File is. I mean," he paused, gathering thoughts and trying to assemble them in a reasonable fashion. "I mean, I know they have to do with paranormal but I just don't see--" He stopped, frustrated that his words wouldn't come out. "Mickey, I want to show you something," Chloe said, pulling up a chair and opening one of the folders that she'd carried in. She spread a bunch of black and white photos out on the desk and moved back, allowing him to study them. "What is this?" He asked, swallowing nervously. The grin had long since faded from her face. "Our first case," she said, leaning back in the chair and putting her feet up on the desk, hands linked behind her head. As he studied the photos Mickey began to feel sick. Each photo showed a young child, between the age of eight and twelve. Six in all, and most of them were females. He couldn't tell, just by looking, what had killed them, but he was sure that the report would detail that much information. He raised an eyebrow and picked up one of the photos for a closer look. He looked to his new partner, wondering what she thought of the situation. She stared forward, towards the door, no expression on her face. He put the photo down and cleared his throat. "Uhm, where's the autopsy reports?" he asked, picking through the folder. "Right here," she said and flipped to the very last page of the file. She looked up at him then, a grimace on her face. "I don't know what you believe about human DNA testing, but this case is clear cut. Those children were used in some sort of experiments. Their circulatory systems have been completely changed. The blood is not red, it's green." "G-green?" "Yes, green." "That's impossible." "I know, but this is the X-Files. I've been told to expect anything." "But this is our first case!" "I know, that's what I thought, but apparently they aren't going to let us get used to this stuff. I'm supposed to have a meeting with Agent Mulder to discuss this case, but frankly that man scares me," she said, tilting her head forward and groaning. "Would you like me to go with you?" he asked, pulling up a chair beside her. "I wouldn't mind. I just don't know what to tell him. We've been here for less than an hour and we're already onto our first case. No time to prepare. Nothing!" she cried. "Maybe he can give us some advice to get us going," Mickey suggested. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a package of Certs. "Mint?" he asked. She shook her head, and sighed. The two of them studied the case, discussing possibilities and leads, uncomfortable with such a strange case to start off their work. What neither knew, was that the cases would only get stranger. ----- Grandure Cafe Quantico, VA 12:34 PM "Here. Take a look at this," Fox Mulder said, tossing a picture towards Dana Scully. She eyed him curiously for a moment. Both were seated outside at a cafe, beneath a big umbrella. Scully sipped at a root beer, Mulder an iced tea. "Mulder," she said, glancing at her watch. "It's almost time for my classes to start again." She picked up the picture and glanced at it. She raised her eyes. "So?" She asked, putting the picture down again and pushing it across the table towards him. "So? Scully, this is the most recent X-File." "Mulder, we're not part of the X-Files anymore," Scully pointed out. "I know that. The agent who's now in the department called me up this morning. Name's Chloe Grant, her partner's Michael Callavelo, anyway, she's new to this sort of case and she wanted a little advice. I told her that I would meet with her at three today and help her out a bit, but you've got to take a look at the autopsy report." "Mulder, I have to teach in twenty minutes, I don't have time for this," she said, pushing back her chair. "Please?" he begged. She stopped as she had begun to get up, and leaned across the table, putting her face just inches from his. "Forget it," she said. "You made me get that damned bed!" "Which has absolutely nothing to do with this." "I need your help." "It's not your case." "They'll fuck it up." "Mulder, stop it! You're going to have to accept that the X- Files aren't yours anymore. You gave them up in order to further your career. I gave them up so that I could go teach, which is what I'm going to do." "The autopsy report, it's on your desk. Take a look at it." "I'll see," she said as she walked away from the table. As she passed the waiter, she gave him a few bills, covering her meal, and walked quickly away. Mulder watched as she disappeared into a crowd of people on the sidewalk. He smiled when she was gone, musing that she could be so stubborn, but he guessed it was his own fault. He had arranged for the promotions and now he had to live with the consequences. But that didn't mean that he had to completely give up the X-Files. While he had faith in the new agents, he knew he would be able to pull their strings from his new position. His grin increased as he began to think about all the things he could now do. ***** End Part Two T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Three ----- Quantico FBI Training Facility Quantico, VA Offices of Dana Scully 2:00 PM Dana glanced at the file folder that had been left on her desk. After looking at that picture today, she found herself wondering just what was in the file. She hated the way Fox Mulder could make her do anything he wanted. She hated to feel that vulnerability. She glanced around the office. She had been given a large office and she even had a secretary. A secretary, a wonderful young man who seemed pleased to be working for her. For some reason, a male secretary seemed out of place, but she supposed it was part of the evolution of the male dominance thing. Scully put her hand on the folder, then it finally called to her one last time. She pulled out her glasses and slipped them on. "Fine, Mulder, just this last time!" she mumbled to herself, eliciting look from her secretary, who sat at his desk just outside the open door. She smiled and waved at him, then gingerly opened the folder, almost afraid to see what was inside. Before she could begin to read the first line, she heard muffled voices. She looked up to find a very tall, blond haired woman and a slightly shorter black haired man, standing outside the door conferring with her secretary. She frowned, stood up and went to the door, watching the exchange. She cleared her throat and watched as all three turned in her direction. "Is there a problem here?" she asked, using an authoritative voice. "No, no problem--" the secretary began, but the tall woman, who's eyes had lit up and widened, stepped forward and pushed her hand toward Scully. "Dana Scully, I'm so very pleased to finally meet you!" Scully glanced over the woman and her expression softened. She didn't know this woman, but was impressed by the aura that she presented. She reached out and gripped her hand. She glanced to the man beside the woman, who was standing very straight, in a professional manner. He, too, gave her the impression of being a take-charge kind of guy. Her gaze returned to the woman as their handshake ended. "Forgive me, but should I know you two?" Scully asked, nodding toward the man. "Oh, my God," the woman said, and the man cringed slightly. "I completely gapped. I'm Special Agent Chloe Grant and this is Special Agent Michael Callavelo. We're in charge of the X-Files department." It finally dawned on Scully, and she nodded, smiling. Mulder had done it again. "Agent Mulder sent you here, didn't he?" she asked, stepping aside and allowing them to enter her office. Scully smiled as they walked past, shrugged to her secretary then followed them in, closing the door behind her. "Actually, no. Agent Mulder hasn't seen us yet," she said, and then Scully remembered that his appointment wasn't until three. "I see, well, what can I help you with?" Scully said as she took a seat across from them at her desk. "To tell the truth, I had to meet you. I followed your work all through Quantico, hoping that I'd get the chance to finally meet you. Acquiring your old department has given me the excuse to introduce myself to you. I'm sorry, it seems a little out of hand, but I just love the work you do," Grant said, smiling. Scully was awed. No one had ever seemed to take an interest in her work. Despite herself, she felt that somehow without having known each other, they had bonded. There was just something about the woman that reminded Scully of her sister Melissa, something that made her feel like protecting the younger agent. "Well, I'm flattered," she mumbled, not knowing what else to say. The man beside the woman looked up and grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. "Something wrong, Agent?" Scully asked, leaning back in the chair. "Oh, no. Nothing. I'm sorry, just clearing my throat," he said, without looking up from his hands which were twisting in his lap. "He's just sore that I dragged him out here," Chloe said, and gave Mickey a smile. He just smiled sarcastically at her and shrugged. "That's not it at all. May I be frank?" he asked, straightening his back even more. "Always," Scully said. She wasn't used to this treatment, especially from other agents. After all, she was still an agent, it wasn't as though she were his superior. "Well, to begin with, I've never followed your work very closely and I'm not sure what your role as Mulder's partner was, but I just seem to have this old fashioned Italian opinion that women are supposed to be at--" He stopped, a glare from Chloe cutting off his sentence. Scully watched as Grant cut him into pieces with her eyes, and she nearly burst out laughing. "Michael," Scully began. "Mickey, please." "Fine. Mickey, I want you to understand that I'm not insulted by what you're trying to say. It seems to me that you've insulted your partner even more than you have me, but as Mulder's partner, I was an equal. We both had our share of work and we both did things that might have seemed incorrect. You'll find that with the X-Files, no matter how hard you try, there will be instances when you just cannot follow the rules," she stopped, allowing them to process what she was saying. Grant seemed to be beaming, while Callavelo realized his bias and backed off a bit. She knew he hadn't meant any harm, probably part of his upbringing. She didn't know much about either of the agents, but they both seemed suitable for the positions they had been awarded. She could tell just by looking at them that they weren't getting along too well. Grant struck her as no-nonsense kind of woman, while Callavelo too appeared to have strong leadership skills. Together they would be able to make impeccable decisions, however, unlike Mulder's split-second ones. It would be good for both of them, and they would be less likely to get into any trouble. "I know that you requested Agent Mulder's help in your first case, which I admit seems a little off, and I'm sure he will be of great service to you," Scully added, then glanced at her watch. "Is there anything I can help you with?" "Well, Agent Grant has discussed your forensics capabilities with me, and I must admit your credentials are excellent, so I wonder if you could possibly look over the autopsy report and give us a little input," Mickey said quietly. He looked Scully in the eye, as if trying to determine her reaction. "I'd be happy to. In fact, I have it right here; however, I have another class that I am supposed to teach and I must get going. Is there somewhere I can contact you?" She asked. After exchanging business cards, Scully walked both agents out of her office. It had definitely been an interesting meeting. To top it all off, Scully was surprised when Grant asked if she could sit in on one of her classes, explaining that she had minored in forensics. After seeing Mickey to his car, Chloe had slipped into the classroom a few minutes after the class had begun and sat patiently listening, a perma-smile glued to her face. Scully definitely liked this woman. ----- FBI Headquarters Washington, DC 2:35 pm Fox Mulder was almost ready to cry. The pile of folders on his 'new' desk easily surmounted any he had accumulated on his 'old' desk in the basement. The difference being the old folders were files that held his interest. The new folders were cases that belonged to someone else, some other agent, under him in the chain of command, who was the designated agent and had done the work, dug out the clues, figured the puzzle. His only purpose in the whole process was to read the file, decide if the proper procedures were followed, and recommend whether the investigation was complete (ready for prosecution), incomplete (returned to the agent for further investigation) or 'unsolved'--one of his formerly beloved X-Files. It was a growing temptation to label ALL of the files with an X, but even Mulder had to answer to someone, and he didn't think the response from above would be favorable. He stared out the window and didn't even notice the petite brunette who entered the room and gently place more folders on the corner of his desk. "Sir, should I 'file' some of these for you?" a voice asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Not till I actually finish with one of them, Tracy. I think that's the general point here, that I finish them and then give them to you. Did I miss something in that procedure?" he replied, more gruffly than he had intended. Her face fell and he was sure she was going to bolt from the room. He immediately regretted his comment. "I'm sorry, Tracy, I didn't mean that. I just. . .I just hate paperwork, that's all. So much paper, so few matches, you know what I mean?" he grinned, trying to make it up to her. Tracy gave him a knowing smile. "It's not what you thought it would be, is it, sir?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. Mulder was a bit taken back. "I am that obvious about it?" he whined. "No, but I notice that Dr. Scully's number is the first one on your speed dial. And you do seem to put off reading the files that you have to pass along. And I catch you staring out the window about 50 times a day. That isn't the image of the 'workaholic Spooky Mulder' that I was expecting my first day as your assistant." One thing she had figured out about him, you didn't lie to Fox Mulder and stay in his good graces. Tracy didn't pull any punches with him, and he hadn't for her, either. "One time, when I had finished a profile and the guy got caught, Reggie Purdue told me I'd make ASAC before 35. I didn't want to believe him. I couldn't imagine a worse fate. So here I am, 35 and an ASAC. It's scary. But it doesn't get the work done, does it," he smiled, but it didn't make it all the way to his eyes. She gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and went to the doorway. "It will grow on you, sir," she smiled at him. "Like nose hair?" he quipped in reply. "Or athlete's foot," she joked in return and closed the door behind her. Mulder reluctantly picked up the folder on the top of the pile and put on his glasses, starting to read. "Use the damn spell check, next time," he groused at the absent agent who had written the report. Once he got started, he actually managed to finish several files before Tracy was at his door to interrupt him. "I know how 'engrossed' you are right now, sir, but Agent Callavelo is here to see you," she said with a wink. Mulder broke into a grin and handed her the files he had completed. "Get these out of my sight, before I declare all of them unsolved," he whispered. "And send Agent Callavelo in," he added. Mickey Callavelo took a deep breath and walked into the office. He extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Mulder." "Now, would that be because we're both pariah in the Bureau, or because you can't make heads or tails out of your first case, Callavelo?" Mulder replied with a grin, shaking the younger man's hand firmly. It took him about two seconds to size up Mickey. What he saw was a lot like looking in a mirror. "Well, it's always nice to meet ALL the local outcasts, sir. Especially the ones who've managed to hang on long enough to get windows in their offices," Mickey shot back. "But actually, I'm here because my partner, Agent Grant, seems to think you can help us with this investigation. What gave her the idea that you're even interested in the X-Files anymore is beyond me." "Oh, I'm interested, Callavelo. In fact, I think you've got yourselves a doozy in this one. But you've been through the Academy. You must have some first impressions. What are your thoughts?" Mulder asked, directing the conversation away from a dangerous topic--his interest. "Quite frankly, it looks like a serial killer, in my opinion. One who preys on children. Not all that unusual," Mickey answered truthfully. "Until you get to the part about 'green blood'," Mulder interjected. ". . .until you get to that part, yes sir," Mickey said as a frown crossed his face. "But then, that could be a hoax," he added. Now it was Mulder's turn to frown. "You think a licensed Medical Examiner would go along with a 'hoax' like that one, Callavelo? Where did you grow up, Chicago?" Mickey shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. "Yes, sir," he said tersely. "Well, maybe the ME in Cook County is willing to go out on a limb, but if you talk to a good pathologist. . ." "Like Dr. Scully?" Mickey interrupted. Mulder shot him a fierce look. Mickey noted to himself. "Yes, like Dr. Scully," Mulder intoned. "You would understand that draining a body of all its blood and substituting another substance usually leaves some kind of damage. And from what I remember of the report, that damage was not apparent. That blood was in those children's bodies BEFORE they died, Mr. Callavelo. If you have a hard time dealing with that, well, this is going to get to be a REAL rocky road before this investigation is over." "Besides, somebody would have picked that up before they shoved it down in the basement," a female voice chimed in from the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt, Agent Mulder. I'm Chloe Grant, Mickey's partner. I was just with Dr. Scully. She took a few minutes out of her schedule to read over the autopsy reports. She doesn't feel the blood is a hoax. She mentioned some files in a tunnel, if you have any idea what she was referring to," Chloe added. "Come in and take a seat, Agent Grant," Mulder offered. he thought to himself. "So, I take it that you are more willing to go beyond the realm of normal science to figure out what happened to those children before they were murdered, Agent Grant?" "It's my understanding that if these cases could be explained using conventional methods, they wouldn't be 'unexplainable' to begin with, sir," Chloe said, staring him directly in the eye. Meanwhile, Mickey coughed loudly into his hand. "And you have another opinion, Mr. Callavelo?" Mulder asked, a bit amused by Mickey's reaction. "I've seen things get overlooked, sir. And sometimes, the label 'unexplained' can cover a multitude of sins," he said, not backing down an inch. "Sins, Agent? Whose sins?" Mulder asked. "Sins of the investigators, sins of an ASAC who could really give a damn. . ." Mickey retorted. "Well, I see we've strayed into some shark infested waters, here," Mulder said, taking a deep breath. "First, let me tell you that Bureau procedure may not be up to your ever exacting standards, Mr. Callavelo, but it's still pretty damn good. And if a field agent files the report properly, the man or woman above him then makes the decision where it goes next. ASAC's don't grow on trees, Mr. Callavelo. They aren't in their positions by the Peter Principle, either. They are field agents who have earned their place. If the procedure looks sloppy, it's just as easy to dump it back on the agent's lap than it is to shove to the basement. And it's usually frowned upon to have too many X-Files, anyway. They're generally considered 'unseemly'," Mulder let the words drip with acid. For the briefest of seconds it occurred to him that he was _defending_ the chain of command. he wondered, but quickly returned to stared Mickey in the eye. "Don't get me wrong, Agent Mulder," Mickey interrupted. "I know there are strange things in this world. And I'm ready to accept that sometimes science does not hold all the answers. But if I was condemned to the basement because I am expected to believe that little green men. . ." "Little gray men," Chloe and Mulder interjected in perfect chorus, then looked at each other, surprised. Chloe blushed and bit her lip. Mickey closed his eyes and shook his head. Mulder took pity on him. "Not every case will have 'little gray men', Agent Callavelo. You just got lucky the first time out. But I think Dr. Scully might have stumbled onto something when she mentioned the 'files in the tunnel'," Mulder said, turning the conversation back to the case. "Is that like the 'White Lodge' on Twin Peaks?" Mickey muttered under his breath. Mulder shot him a look, and Mickey, for once, used good judgment and shut up. The discussion last the better part of an hour. It was finally decided that only going out to the crime scenes and starting the real work of investigation was going to get them anywhere. Mulder dismissed them both, waited for them to get out of earshot, and picked up the phone. "Well, what do you think," he asked, not bothering with such trivial things as greetings. "About the case or about the Bobbsey twins," Scully asked lightly. "I can wait to hear what you think of the case, I've just gone toe to toe with Callavelo. What do you think of the . . . who the hell are the Bobbsey twins?" Mulder replied, putting his feet on the desk and getting comfortable. "Never mind," Scully giggled. "I've got a class in 5 minutes. I spent my break time with Chloe. How about you come over to my place after work? We can finish off that pizza from Sunday and hash this thing out, since you refuse to let it alone," she teased. "Hey, it's my job to keep on top of the agents under my direct chain of command," Mulder said, trying to sound official. "So that's what their calling 'sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong' these days?" Scully laughed. "Just for that, I'm not helping with the dishes," he threatened. "So what else is new? See you around 6:30," she laughed and hung up. ----- End Part Three -- T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Four ----- FBI Headquarters Basement office 4:05 pm Chloe hadn't said a word to him all the way downstairs. She would occasionally look over at him with an expression of frustration and exasperation. Upon entering their office, she immediately set to work making travel arrangements for their trip and continued to ignore his existence. Mickey had kicked himself all the way downstairs. he had assured himself. He looked over at Chloe. Chloe--'green sprout', the Greek word sprung into his head. Jolly Green Giant seemed more appropriate. His sisters were tiny little things who all married big burly football types. His own mother barely hit 5' 2". But for all that height, his partner had the word 'sucker' permanently tattooed on her forehead, he decided. 'Little GRAY men', what was that all about? Green, gray, what difference, the idea of ET coming down and substituting kids' blood still made no sense at all to him. And then Mulder had backed her up. Told them both that finding out what caused the green blood could very well lead to who was killing those kids and why. It was a link, and certainly strange enough not to be just a coincidence. This was nuts. he decided to himself. Chloe hung up the phone and looked over at him. She had to admit, he looked miserable. she mused. But for all his abrasiveness, he didn't seem stupid. He had held up his end of the debate, and against the BOTH of them, Chloe and Mulder. He had even had some decent ideas, mixed in with all the nay-saying. Chloe sighed. Her gut was telling her to give this guy a chance. And her gut was rarely wrong. "So, what did you study in school? Diplomacy?" she asked out of the blue. He seemed shocked to hear her voice. "Ah, no. Sociology. And theology," he added softly. "Oh, you _should_ have studied diplomacy, then," she said. "It's usually considered bad form to piss off everyone you meet, you know," she added, but there was humor in her voice. Mickey looked up from his close examination of the top of his desk and stared at her. She wasn't really mad, he decided. Sort of ready to strangle him if he pulled a stunt like that again, but not mad enough to request a transfer, or maybe another partner. "Yeah, well, where I grew up, diplomacy was for sissies," he grinned. "It shows," she retorted. "But it doesn't help us solve this case, so, let's start over. I've got us on a 7:35 flight out of National tomorrow morning. What say we knock off a little early so we can pack and get some shut eye. I'll meet you at Gate 15 at five after seven. Okay?" "You go on home. I want to sort through some stuff here first." Chloe shrugged and gathered up her things. As she was almost out the door when he called to her. "Ah, Grant. . ." "I prefer Chloe," she said quietly. "Chloe, then. Ah, I was a real jerk today, and I apologize. I'm just. . ." "Over your head? Completely blown away? Ready to escape to wire tap surveillance?" she interrupted, trying to be helpful. Mickey started to get angry, but caught himself and chuckled a little. "Well, not quite ready for wire tap, YET. But you have to understand. . ." "You like things neat, orderly and to make some sort of sense?" she interrupted, again. "You're going to keep doing that, aren't you?" he grinned. "It seems safer than letting you complete your own sentences," she teased. "Look, I understand. Just promise me one thing. . ." "And that is. . ." "Try and keep an open mind. I don't care if you go looking for the 'conventional' explanation all the time. But when it doesn't fit, promise me you won't just throw up your hands and give up looking. Deal?" "Deal. Partner," he added sheepishly. "Sure looks that way," she smiled in return. "See you in the morning." ----- Annapolis, MD Apartment Of D. Scully 7:45 PM Scully had long since decided that Mulder wasn't going to show. She paused before the telephone wondering if she should call him, but decided against it. It was fine with her that he hadn't shown up. She was exhausted after having taught three classes that day. Not to mention the bombardment of questions from Agent Grant. She waved a hand in the air above the phone and padded down the carpeted hallway to her bedroom, where she slipped out of her clothes and into a housecoat. She then proceeded into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Discarding the house coat, she stepped into the shower and blessed the warmth of the water as it drilled onto her aching back. She sighed, turning over the events of the day in her mind. She focused especially on the autopsy. She didn't know what to tell Mulder. It seemed like one of the cases they had run into in the past. The phrase "Purity Control" came to her mind and she considered possible connections to the case. She frowned as she remembered how one of their most trusted informants had lost his life during that case. The only apparent connection was the 'green' blood. Scully would definitely have to see more information to come to a certain conclusion, however from the looks of it, it was one of the cases that Mulder would definitely have an interest in. It suddenly occurred to her that he just might try to somehow gain a little control of it. For his own good, she vowed that she would prevent him from doing so, even if it meant following along with him until she had a chance to deter him. She sighed, scrubbing the last of the soap from her hair, adding conditioner and finally shutting off the water. She pulled back the shower door, grabbed a towel and began to dry her hair. She stepped out, finding another towel to cover her soaking body, as she stepped into the hall. She padded to her room and was just about to begin dressing when a sharp, loud knock came at the door. "Mulder, you pick the damnedest of times!" she mumbled to herself, then shouted, "Hold on!" as she secured the towel a little tighter against her body and went to the doorway. Out of habit, she peeked out the peep hole and discovered that it was indeed Mulder. She sighed, shaking her wet head, droplets of water spraying in every direction. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack. "You're late," she said. He nodded, pushing the door open further. "I know and I'm sorry," he said, as he stepped inside. He took a moment to regard her, a smile creeping across his face. He nodded at her, and she sneered. "Just a minute. Make yourself at home while I go get changed," she said, feeling a little self conscious. "Do you have to?" he teased, playfully tugging at the edge of the towel. "Mulder!" Scully cried, swatting at his hand with her one free hand. The other grasped the towel, holding onto it for dear life. "I should have known better," she mumbled, stepping away. "Okay go! Go on. But I can't say that I'll like it," he said, trying to look sad. Scully laughed and quickly disappeared down the hallway. Once in her room, she leaned against the door, allowing herself to calm down. For some reason his meaningless teasing had made her feel warm. She paused, deciding what would be good to wear. She finally decided that a pair of loose jeans and a sweat shirt, would suffice. She pulled the clothes gratefully on, and then joined Mulder in the living room. Fox Mulder glanced up from the medical journal he held in his hand when she entered the room. He sighed, wishing she'd perhaps worn something a little more revealing. He surprised himself with these thoughts, but he'd been suppressing them for years and he knew he was sick of it. He also knew that Scully wouldn't purposely wear something provocative, especially after the way he'd teased her. It just wasn't her style. He smiled, returning his gaze to the journal. "So, what's your excuse? You were supposed to be here around six thirty. . ." "Scully, I was at the office getting a copy of this," he said, reaching behind him on the couch and presenting her with a rather fat looking manilla folder. "And this is. . . ?" "That is all the current information gathered on the case." "Mulder, you have to at least give them a chance!" she said as she crossed the room and sat in an overstuffed chair across from him. She drew her legs up beneath her and put the file primly in her lap. Once again his thoughts strayed to her appearance. He allowed them to linger for just a moment before pushing them away. He was supposed to be in a professional mode right now and those thoughts were definitely not in that category. "A chance, Scully? They're getting their chance, but I'm going to be there just to help them along." "Did you ask if they wanted your help?" "No--" "Well, then forget it! You can't continue to do this. If you really wanted to hold onto the X-Files, you shouldn't have accepted the promotion." Scully's words bit into him like a hot knife into butter. He resisted the urge to become upset and scream. She was right, of course. He had no one to blame but himself. As the words flowed from her mouth, her expression suddenly changed to one of pity as she realized the grave mistake she'd just made. "Mulder, I'm sorry! I--" He waved a hand. "Don't worry, Scully. I deserved it," he said, dismissing it, although it still hurt. "How about you just tell me what you thought of the autopsy," he continued, ignoring the previous conversation. "As I mentioned before, I'd have to say it's definitely something that we've seen before. But I can't seem to put it all together. Anything we've seen before has mostly involved adults et cetera, not younger children." She shifted position, the file sliding on her lap, then continued. "I mentioned to Grant about the files in the tunnel, hoping that you'd explain further. Did you?" "Yeah, I quickly outlined what we found for them and gave them the ID number for the X-File case they could find more information under." Mulder sighed. He wasn't sure if he should mention something he'd been thinking about earlier that day, or if he should just let it go. She certainly didn't like the idea of his poking into the case. "Mulder?" Scully asked. He realized he'd been staring off into space. He decided he had better tell her what he was thinking, instead of trying to hide it. He knew that sooner or late she'd figure it out. "Scully, I've been thinking. I don't know how to say this but, well, I think this case has something to do with the disappearance of my sister. If not, then I think it's similar," he whispered, silently praying that she wouldn't discard the idea. She looked shocked, then her eyebrows knit together as she considered the idea. She closed her eyes and Mulder felt his heart sink. "I thought about that too, Mulder. I just didn't want to get your hopes up," she admitted quietly. He almost didn't catch her words. He regarded her for a moment, then she slowly opened her eyes and showed him a sadness that ran deeper than simple sorrow. "I think you should let them take care of it, Mulder," she whispered. "I can't do that! I have to find out for myself! It's got to be the key. We were so close to finding out what happened after my father died but we lost everything!" It had been over a year since his father had died, and her sister too. Both for the same cause and both in the wrong. "You of all people should understand that," he said, fighting to hold back the tears. "I do understand. . . It's just that. . . Well, to put it mildly, I don't think that we'll find Sam." "How can you say that?" he asked. "Mulder--" "No. Listen, we've got to take this case. You've got to help me. . ." "You're not understanding what I'm saying. I'm saying no. For once, why don't you just accept that! Accept the fact that I can't follow you around on a case that you'd be stealing from perfectly competent agents. Mulder, no matter how much it hurts me to say this, I think it's time to let go. It's time to start your life again," she said, untucking herself from the chair and walking over to grasp his hands. "Mulder, for me, for Agents Callavelo and Grant, let this one go. . .Please?" she nearly begged. "I can't, Scully," Mulder said, breaking free from her grip. "I can't do that. I've got to find out for myself." In the pit of his stomach he felt he'd been betrayed by the last person he trusted. He couldn't stay here. "Look, I've got to go." "Mulder, please. I'm sor--" she began, standing aside as he abruptly stood. "Don't apologize, Scully. You've spent the better half of the evening apologizing. You've told me how you really feel, now I've got to accept that and move on," he said, grabbing his coat which he'd shed and placed on a chair beside the entrance. He reached the front door, yanked it open and stepped out into the hallway. "Mulder! Let me explain!" she cried as his footsteps echoed down the hallway. He did not turn around to glance back. Dana Scully slammed the door shut, kicking herself for destroying any hope that she had of keeping Mulder out of the case. If anything she'd made it worse and she'd perhaps destroyed any trust they had shared. She hadn't realized it, but tears of hot anger were streaming down her face. She hadn't meant to ruin a perfectly fine evening. She cursed herself, walking into the kitchen and pulling out a shot glass. A shot of her favorite liqueur would hopefully dull some of the pain. Perhaps enough to sleep. ----- End Part Four -- T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie M. & Char H. vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Five ----- September 2, 1996 8:15 AM Mickey watched the clouds float lazily by as he fought to keep himself awake. Airplanes always lulled him to sleep. The view out the window wasn't helping much, however. Finally he decided it was hopeless to even bother trying. He shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He breathed heavily. Beside him, Chloe afforded him a look. He could feel her eyes on him. He smiled, then turned his head toward her, opening his eyes. "Problem?" he asked, gently. "Uh, not that I know of," she said, a slight blush coming to her cheeks as she looked quickly away. He smiled, closing his eyes again and attempting to get more comfortable. "Actually--" His eyes snapped open. "What?" "I've been thinking about this case. . ." she trailed off, biting her lower lip. "What about it?" he asked, sitting up. Perhaps she'd be able to keep him awake. "Well, Mulder seemed a lot more interested in the case than he was letting on." "And what has that got to do with anything?" "Doesn't that seem odd to you? Shouldn't he be more worried about his current position than what we're up to?" "Old habits die hard?" "Come on, I'm being serious. I think he wants this case." "He's not a field agent anymore." "It doesn't matter." "Sure it does," Mickey was beginning to feel a little annoyed at her line of thought. If Mulder had wanted their case, he would have asked for it, or reassigned it. "What you're suggesting doesn't make sense. Why would he want our case anyway? He's probably sick of the X-Files by now." Mickey shrugged, looking out the window. "You're not understanding what I'm saying. Fox Mulder took care of the X-Files for years. I think you were partly right about old habits dying hard, but I think there's more to it." She sighed, dropping the subject at Mickey's obvious denial. "Let me ask you a question," he said, looking into her azure eyes. She nodded, matching his gaze. "Do you think we're going to get along at all?" "Oh come on! I thought we already went over this! I think we're just going to have to adjust. I have the perfect idea! You'll have to wait to find out though. . ." she said, giving him the most mischievous smile he'd ever seen. "Okay, I'm sorry. It's just that every time one of us mentions something we end up arguing," he said quietly. "That's what being partners is all about," she smiled, patting his shoulder gently. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Besides, you're cute. I wouldn't give you up for the world." With that he felt his cheeks burn as the blood flowed to his face. He inched away. She smiled at making him uncomfortable and he realized he'd made yet another mistake. He'd revealed another part of himself to her ever watchful eye. he chided himself. He sighed, swearing he would get her back. He wasn't comfortable at having her make even playful passes at him, but he would definitely have something ready for her the next time. ----- Washington, DC Offices of Fox Mulder 9:30 AM "Good morning, Tracy. Is Mulder in the office?" Dana Scully asked his assistant. She shifted nervously from foot to foot, not sure how Mulder would react that she had come here, after having upset him so badly last night. She felt terrible about it and had hoped to make amends by telling him that she would help him out, despite any misgivings she had about it. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully. Agent Mulder just left to catch a flight to South Carolina," the brunette answered. "Dammit!" Scully cursed, winning a startled look from Tracy. "Sorry, it's just that I need to speak with him. How long ago did you say he left?" "About an hour ago. His flight was for ten o'clock this morning," Scully cursed again, silently. "Thanks," she said, before turning on her heel and quickly leaving. She rushed away, meanwhile pulling out her cellular phone. She impatiently waited for the elevator, dialing Mulder's number. "You have reached the Motex cellular phone system. We are sorry to say that the client you are currently trying to reach is not available. Please hang--" Scully growled, pushing the END button on the telephone and placing it back into her pocket. She checked her watch and found that she only had a half an hour to find Mulder. When she reached the airport, Scully rushed into the terminal, keeping her eyes open for Mulder. She made her way to the ticket booth and purchased a ticket for South Carolina using her VISA. She stationed herself near the exit gate for their flight and it wasn't long before Mulder wandered around the corner. He didn't see her until she stepped in front of him, holding her hand out. "Scully," he sighed, looking away. "I don't really want to talk to you right now." "I know, Mulder. I have to say this though. You're right, I think this case is important. I considered it all night last night and I decided that we better take a look at it," she said, putting her hand on his chest. He still would not look at her. It was almost as if he hadn't heard her. "Listen to me, Mulder. I know I hurt you last night, but you have to understand my viewpoint as well." "If you came here to stop me. . ." he said, raising his eyes and finally locking her in a painful stare. She held it. "I'm going with you," she said quietly. His face softened and he regarded her carefully. "No, you're not," he said. "Don't you dare argue with me. I fought with myself all night about this and nothing you can say is going to stop me from going with you," she said, putting both her hands on his shoulders. His stern look slowly faded to one of happiness. "But first, I need your forgiveness, Mulder. I shouldn't have said a lot of the things I did, and I know that it's going to hurt for a long time now, but I need to know that you've forgiven me." "You know, Scully," he whispered, his face close to hers. "It's awfully difficult to hate your best friend longer than a day." He smiled, weakly. "I've had some time to think about it too, and I think I was wrong to get as upset as I did. You're forgiven." She smiled with relief and on the spur of the moment reached up and enveloped him in a quick hug. He hugged back, pulling her close to him. He released her a short time later, glancing down at her. "Where's your luggage?" he asked, knowing that she'd decided to go with him. She smiled, holding up her VISA. "Right here," she said, putting it into her wallet and patting it softly. He laughed and began to walk towards the exit, as the final call for their departure flight rattled over the system. ----- End Part Five BedSprings(2/4) T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs(2/4) by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Six ----- Orangeburg, South Carolina 12:00 noon Finding Orangeburg had been easy. The town was right off Interstate 26 going south from Columbia. Finding the police station was another matter. It soon became apparent to Chloe that Mickey would have difficulty finding his way out of a paper bag. "I suppose it would crush your male ego to stop at a gas station and ask directions," she hinted, not really wanting to upset him, but getting pretty upset herself. "We told the Chief of Police we'd be there half an hour ago when I called him from the airport." Mickey shot her a glare. "I'm sure he'll wait. It's not like we're keeping them from dinner or anything," he told her. "Besides, these small towns all look alike to me. I can never figure out where they hide the police station." "You might try the building across from the post office and next to the fire station," Chloe suggested helpfully. Sure enough, the sign out front proclaimed the police station of Orangeburg. She smiled innocently at him. He shook his head in disgust. "Okay, Agent Smartypants, next time, YOU drive in the small towns," he grumbled. She smiled triumphantly. "Don't worry, Mickey. I'm sure you do SOME things VERY well," she teased and had to stifle a giggle at his immediate blush. This was too much fun to be true. The small police station was fairly typical. The dispatcher sat at a desk in the corner, a receptionist sat at a desk in the front. No bullet proof glass, no indication of high traffic in the dregs of society. Just an office. Off to the back was a door proclaiming "Chief". Mickey walked up to the receptionist, an older heavy set black woman with warm eyes and a big smile, and he introduced them. "Hello, Ms. . ." he checked the nameplate on the desk. It said 'Rosy'. "Ah, Rosy. We're Agents Callavelo and Grant, with the FBI. We're here to see. . ." Rosy cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Y' all here to see Charlie. I'll git him." She turned in her chair and put a hand to her mouth. "Char-LIE, the F B I is here," she shouted. "Finally," she added, under her breath. Then she looked up at Mickey and Chloe. "He'll be right with you," she smiled. The door in the back swung open and a tall black man in his mid thirties came out with a scowl on his face. "Aunt Rosy, when are you going to learn how to use that intercom I got you for Christmas?" he grumbled. He only needed to take a couple of strides to reach them. Eyeing them both, he held out his hand. "I'm Charlie Russell, Chief of Police. You must be Callavelo and Grant." He looked each agent in the eye as he said their names. Chloe noticed that he got it right, the first time. "C'mon into my office. Aunt Rosy, git us some of that coffee you made me buy this morning. And this time, lay off the chicory!" Once seated in the office, Chief Russell pulled out a file from the standing file on his desk. He sighed heavily and handed it over to the agents. "I sent all this up to DC, but here's the original. I gotta tell you, this is the first time I've been up against a serial killer. I mean, I took that 6 weeks course up in Virginia when I got this job, but I never thought we'd have to deal with that in Orangeburg. I know a lot of cops don't like having the FBI messing in their pastures, but I'm damn glad to see you two and I intend to cooperate in any way I can." "All six of the children came from the area," Chloe noted. She had read the files so many times she could quote them, but she wanted a place to start. "Any idea if they are connected in any way--aside from the. . ." "The blood," Russell cut in. "Well, yeah, there is a connection. Each of those kids came from a foster home. Not the same foster home, mind you. They were all wards of the state of South Carolina. Couple of them, the 13 year old, Nancy Kohl, and the 10 year old, Jaime Porter, they were orphans. The others were just. . .abandoned." "Had they lived in Orangeburg all their lives?" Mickey asked, taking notes. "Nah. They come from Columbia, Greenville, Spartanburg, Charleston. Most of them probably had druggies for mamas. The state got 'em when they were little and never allowed 'em to be adopted. Damned shame, too. Poor little guys were just throw aways in the system. Never had a chance." He stared off into space for a moment. "Did the children 'interact' in anyway? Go to the same school, perhaps?" Chloe asked. "There's only one school in town, Agent Grant. It's got Kindergarten to High School. But aside from being in the same school, there wasn't any 'interaction' that I could find. None of 'em were in any clubs, 4-H or the like. None of 'em were that smart, though little Nancy was in the church choir. She had a voice sweet as honey, that one. Other than that, they went to school, some rode buses home, some walked. No patterns that I could find. They didn't even follow the same routes to school." He looked closely at Chloe. "You're thinking it might be somebody at the school?" "We have to look at all the possibilities, Chief. There is a lot of documentation of cases where a school employee, a janitor or such, has committed crimes against the children there. I understand the last two victims are still at the morgue. Do you think we could go over there and see them?" Chloe asked. Russell checked his watch. "Doc Marburg usually takes his lunch about one. He's the coroner. Mebbe Aunt Rosy can catch him." He reached over to his phone and punched a button. "Aunt Rosy, git Doc on the phone. These folks want to see the bodies." Mickey and Chloe both had to suppress grins when the shouted answer came back a few minutes later. "Meet him at the clinic in 10 minutes, Charlie," Rosy hollered through the closed door. Russell shook his head in disgust. "Can't teach an old dog. . ." he muttered. The ride to the coroner's office was short, just four blocks. Chloe couldn't help but notice the look of apprehension on Mickey's face. "You okay, there Mick?" she asked, not sure what could be bothering him. "Is it the case?" she asked, before he had the chance to answer the first questions. Mickey squirmed in his seat. "Not exactly," he replied, avoiding her eyes. He was silent for a minute before he spoke again. "You might as well learn this now as later. I'm not exactly, well, 'comfortable' around dead bodies," he admitted. "What do you mean, 'comfortable'?" Chloe asked, a bit concerned. "I, ah, sort of, ah, lose things," he answered, cryptically. "Lose things? What sort of things?" Chloe asked again. "Oh, you know, my cookies, consciousness, stuff like that," he said so softly she had to strain to hear him. Chloe put her hand up to hide her giggles. "How on earth did you make it through the Academy, then?" "Well, the first class, I was carried out. The second class, the teacher had to be carried out. Seems he was great with dead bodies but had difficulty with stomach contents of the living. After that, I sort of got excused," he nodded as the memory replayed in his mind. Chloe couldn't hold it any longer. Now she was laughing out loud. "Which teacher?" she gasped between breaths. "Raffle." Her eyes lit up. "You mean *you* were the one they were talking about. . ." and dissolved in giggles again. "It's not like I'm proud of it or anything! And I was really worried for a while. I thought it was the boot, you know. But I found out later that I'm okay at crime scenes. I just can't handle it when they, you know, weigh stuff and crack stuff and poke around and rearrange. . ." he let his voice trail off and was already turning pale at the thoughts running through his mind. Chloe finally caught her breath and reached out. "Hey, tell you what. You talk to the coroner, go stand in the hall, do what ever you need to, okay? I'll handle the open bodies." He shot her a look that told her he wasn't fond of that idea. "Mick, don't sweat it. I *like* this stuff. I wish I had gone to medical school, like Scully, you know. I just didn't have the patience, I guess. But I don't think it a good idea to *not* look at the bodies they have, you understand?" He nodded in agreement and looked relieved. The morgue was in a small back room of the doctor's office. It seemed fairly well equipped, for a town the size of Orangeburg. Mickey leaned gracefully against the far wall while Chloe and Dr. Marburg opened the door to the refrigeration unit in the wall and pulled out the sliding metal drawer that held the body. Even from that distance, Mickey groaned inwardly. He had seen dead bodies, but this one was so. . .small. It was the first time he had been this close to the body of a child victim, and it was disturbing in its own right. Chloe was disturbed, too, but on several levels. It bothered her that the victim was a child. She had always considered those to be the worst. But as she spoke with the doctor, other things caught her eye. This child had been murdered, but she hadn't been that well to begin with. She was painfully thin. The ribs along her sides showed clearly through the thin layer of skin. And her eyes were sunken, and not just from the violent death. Chances were real good that this child might not have made it to adulthood regardless of the senseless act that terminated her life. Chloe's stomach made a leap to her throat as she thought of that. The cause of death was grotesquely apparent. The throat was slit from one ear to the other. Beyond that, there were no marks on the body, no sign of struggle, no sexual abuse. Someone came up behind this little girl and slit her throat and she probably never knew what happened. Chloe shut her eyes for a moment in gratitude for this small measure of mercy. When she opened her eyes, she realized Dr. Marburg was speaking. " . . .in a vial over here," he was saying, moving over to a small refrigerator in the corner of the room and removing a small test tube like vial. He handed it to Chloe, who held it up to the light. "Every drop of blood in her body was like that. At first, I thought the guy might have tried to embalm her. I couldn't figure it out. Then, once I got into the autopsy, I realized there was no indication of damage to the veins or arteries. That substance, whatever it is, was there all along. I sent a sample up to Columbia to the University for them to analyze, but I haven't heard back yet." "We'd like to send some up to our labs, in DC, if you don't mind," Mickey said, finally letting his growing curiosity overcome his hesitation to get closer to the body. He walked over to Chloe and she handed him the vial. In the sunlight streaming in through the single high window, the substance seemed to glow. Mickey stood, transfixed by the green liquid. Chloe touched him lightly on the arm to bring him back. "Well, I think I've seen enough here," she said to him. She turned to the doctor, "Thank you, Dr. Marburg. We may be calling on you again, if that's all right?" "Any time, my dear, any time. I wish I knew what happened here, what's been happening. This is a quiet little town and these murders. . .well, they have folks pretty shook up. I just want you to catch the person responsible and let us get on with our lives." The scene of the murder was some eight miles out of town, on a hilly stretch of road not accessible by the main highway. Mickey drove, as much to give himself something to do with his hands as anything else. Chloe watched him, sensing that something in his mind was sorting, trying to work with the pieces of the puzzle they were being fed one at a time. Her own mind kept trailing back to the body of that small girl, so frail and sickly. There was no mention of abuse in the file, but Chloe wasn't so sure that might not have been an oversight. The girl looked like she was on the verge of malnutrition. As they reached the sight that Chief Russell had described, the yellow crime tape guided them to the exact spot. Mickey was out of the car in a flash, pulling on rubber gloves as he walked, determined, over the low undergrowth. All around them towered old growth trees, majestic in their height and power. Chloe took a quick minute to change shoes and then hurried to catch up with her partner. Mickey had taken on an entirely different persona. He reminded Chloe of a bloodhound. He he seemed to be almost sniffing out the evidence. Not a single leaf escaped his examination. He carefully avoided the areas he knew had been trampled by the local officials. He moved the yellow tape to go beyond the cordoned-off area and try and reconstruct the murder in his own mind. Chloe watched him for five full minutes, then couldn't resist the urge to giggle. "Something funny, Agent Grant?" Mickey asked sarcastically, without even looking up from the dirt he was examining. "I was just wondering when you were going to start chewing on the tree bark, to see if it had been affected," she shot back. "You aren't going to find anything, you know." "Oh, I guess autopsy wasn't the only class I missed at the Academy. There must have been one on reading crystal balls, too?" he countered. "No, I just don't think we're going to find anything out here. It's been too long and there have been too many people tramping on the evidence. If you find anything, it will be the print off a good deputy's boot, by my guess," Chloe said nonchalantly. Mickey was still inspecting the base of a tree not ten feet from where the body was found. He stubbed at something with his toe, then bent over and picked it up. It was a button, metal on plastic, with the US Navy insignia on it. It was fairly new and still shone in the late afternoon sunlight. "Don't think I've ever seen one of these on a boot," he commented, gingerly picking up the button and placing it in an evidence bag. He gave it to Chloe to examine. "But you're right, we might as well go on back to the hotel," he added, making a bee line for the car, leaving her to stare at his back in mild confusion. ----- End Part Six -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Seven ----- Orangeburg, South Carolina Queen's Motel 2:32 PM Dana Scully stepped eagerly out of the rented sedan. She had been sitting still for over an hour while Mulder tried to navigate the small town's poorly laid out roads. It also didn't help that they didn't have a road map. Mulder had forgotten to get one in his haste to get there. However, they had finally arrived and Scully was glad, she hated sitting in the car, especially when Mulder insisted that he drive. She let out an exasperated sigh, observing the motel before them. The older building looked as though it would fall apart the minute someone touched it. To begin with, it was just an old house which had been converted into a motel for visitors that would only be staying for short terms. The shingles on the roof looked as though they needed to be replaced, the white paint on the front of the house peeling and blistered probably from the constant exposure to intense sunshine, even the door looked about to fall off it's hinges. "Don't judge a book by its cover," Mulder said with a grin on his face, as he came around the car to join her. He must've read the slight scowl on her face. "Oh, I won't. Are you sure this is the place? It hardly looked like this in the brochure," she said, teasing him about his choice of lodging. Mulder shrugged and tugged on her sleeve, causing her to follow him in. Inside she was shocked. Everything looked brand new and polished. The small reception area was set to the right of the entrance. To the left was a lobby that seemed cozy, a fireplace and bookshelf lining the wall. Scully was awed despite herself. She followed Mulder as he stepped up to the reception desk, pulling out his wallet. The woman, whose gray hair and clouded blue eyes reminded Scully of her grandmother, smiled up at them. "Kin I git you two a special suite?" she asked, casually mistaking their relationship. Mulder laughed, earning a stern look from Scully. Scully shook her head vigorously and the woman nodded. she thought to herself, then wondered where that thought had come from. She didn't continue the line of thought, but instead turned to Mulder, while speaking to the woman. "Actually we'd like two separate rooms, please," she said, eyeing Mulder to see if she could catch a reaction. He only nodded in agreement, keeping all expressions from crossing his face. "Okee, then. Here ya go. Will that be caysh or credit?" the woman said and for the first time Scully noticed her accent. She reached into her coat for her wallet, which contained her VISA, but Mulder put a hand on her arm, producing his first. "Credit," he said, grinning and handed her his card. Scully shrugged, hoping Mulder wasn't going to charge it to the FBI, but then she remembered that he couldn't. They were here on unofficial terms. After the woman got his signature, she handed them both keys and smiled, a lopsided toothless smile. "Third door to the right for the young lady and for you, sir," she nodded down the hallway. "Fourth door to the right," she said, smiling. Scully almost had an odd feeling that the woman was trying to set them up. She shook her head as she walked behind Mulder, heading to their rooms. ----- Orangeburg, South Carolina Crime Scene 1:47 PM "I'm driving," Chloe said, snatching the keys to the rental car before Mickey could object. He didn't seem to care, though. She smiled, thinking finally she wouldn't have to be bored out of her skull. Mickey nodded absently as he turned the button over and over in his hand. She shook her head, wondering what he could be thinking. She waved a hand in front of his face. "Yeah, fine," he said. Chloe shook her head, laughing. He looked up as she unlocked the driver's side of the door and slipped in behind the wheel. When Mickey got into the car, she made a big show of adjusting the seat to make due for their height differences. Mickey looked at her, frowning at her unsuccessful attempt at intimidation. She sighed, adjusting the mirror. "Mick, talk to me. What's going on in that ole noggin' o' yers?" she asked, tapping lightly on his forehead and using the accent of the townspeople. He looked up at her again, shrugging. "It's what it looks like, a military button. But I wonder what it has to do with anything. I suppose we'll have to check it out, but for right now I need to get to the motel to relax. It's been a hell of a trip and I'm sure we'll get a better start after a bit of rest." "You said it!" she said, starting the car and gently putting it into drive. She didn't want to scare Mickey on his first time witnessing her driving skill. She was actually a cautious driver, which some of her friends had commented didn't fit her personality. They'd always assumed that she would be a reckless driver, however her slate was clear,her with excellent insurance rates. Not that it mattered, the FBI covered the costs anyway. Mickey was silent for the better part of the drive, holding the button as though it were the key to his heart. Chloe sighed, wishing he was more of a conversationalist. Finally she couldn't handle it any more. "So, tell me a little about yourself," she said, affording a quick glance sideways at his handsome face. "There's not much to tell," he said, shrugging and finally setting the button down on the dash. He put his head back against the seat and took a deep breath. "I grew up in Chicago. My dad was a cop for the Chicago PD, and an Italian at that. My mother was Irish. It was pretty tough, I mean, living as an Italian in the Irish part of Chicago wasn't the worst of it, it was being a copper's son that was the difficult part. I went to a Catholic school then moved up to Loyola University for my bachelor's in sociology and a masters in Social Work. After that, I entered the Mundelein Seminary--" he stopped, she was laughing at him. "The Seminary?" she asked between giggles. "What's so funny?" His pride had been hurt. She immediately stopped, feeling bad that she'd laughed. It wasn't that she thought joining the Seminary was bad, it was just that he didn't seem to be the type. "I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to--" she began. "No matter, I didn't stick around for ordination. Joined the FBI instead and here I am," he grumbled. "I see," she said, growing totally somber. She nodded and a dark red came to her cheeks. She'd managed to insult him once again and for some reason she felt really bad. "So, what's your story?" he asked, staring at her. He seemed a little less bothered now. she thought, then smiled. "I don't have a story." "No story? Wow. Not as exciting of a person as I at first had thought," he said, smiling. She looked at him again and nodded. She deserved that. "Fine. I'll tell you my *story*. I was born in Orlando, Florida. I had an all American family. I was spoiled rotten and I got away with a lot. Learned how to manipulate people so that I'd always get my way," she said, glancing at him. She found he was listening intently, his eyes partially closed. He looked exhausted. "So anyway," she continued. "I went to a normal All- American public school, then moved on to attend Clemson University, here in South Carolina, majoring in Computer Studies and minoring in forensics. I felt that the FBI would be a good way in order to use my capabilities to the fullest and I joined right away," she said, pushing a hand through her blond hair. "Sounds like it was fun," he commented, rather sarcastically. "You bet it was," she said, nodding as she glanced at the road. She'd been driving for a while now. She looked over the road and sighed. "Uh, Mickey, did I miss the turn?" she asked, glancing at him. Suddenly he sat up straight and looked around. "I think so," he said, shrugging. Then he added, "Trust a woman to mess up the directions." Chloe had been about to say something, but that was his pay back for her comment about the Seminary. She snarled playfully at him, then sighed. "Alright, well I guess I better turn around," she grumbled, gently turning the wheel and making a U-turn in the middle of the deserted rural road. Pressing the gas, she felt the car surge forward, then she eased up a bit. She heard the car rev again and felt it gain speed. "What the hell!?" she gasped, causing Mickey to look over at her worriedly. His eyes widened as he watched the speedometer climb steadily. Chloe took her foot of the gas completely, applying the brakes as she did so. "What's going on?" Mickey asked, startled. He checked his seat belt and frowned, grabbing the handle on the door. "I'll be damned if I know. The only thing I know is that I can't stop the car. We're picking up speed and I have no brakes," she said, a little worried. She could feel the gravel of the road pulling at the wheel as the car raced past the sixty mark. "Chloe!" Mickey screamed, his face contorted into a grimace. "Well, at least I know you won't be able to handle roller coasters," she said, not taking her eyes off the road. "This is no time to joke," he said through clenched teeth. Chloe nodded in agreement, her head racing for a way out. Suddenly the wheel yanked viciously to the right as they hit a bit of loose gravel. "Hang on!" she cried as the car headed for the ditch. Chloe could honestly admit that she was definitely scared. The last thing she noticed in the blur of the spinning car, was a large tree looming before them. ----- End Part Seven -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Eight ----- 2:32 PM Mickey Callavelo stirred out of the blackness. He felt something snagged on his shirt and wondered what the hell was going on. He groaned, attempting to open his eyes. They were glued shut by a sticky substance. He wanted to cry out but his throat was constricted in fear. He coughed, spitting out a slight metallic taste. His lungs burned and his chest hurt. As far as he could tell, nothing else was wrong. He tried once more to pry open his eyes, this time ungluing them with a sickening pop. He grimaced as the sunlight assaulted his sensitive eyes. He blinked them a few times to clear the remaining junk out, adjusting to the sunlight. He moaned once more. Then the rest of the feeling came back to his body and he cried out in pain. He moved his head a little so he could see. He was hanging upside down in the car, held in place by the seat belt. He tried desperately to remember what had happened and within a few seconds mostly all of it flooded back into his clouded brain. Chloe had been driving... The car wouldn't stop... He remembered now. Gingerly testing his muscles, making sure nothing was broken, he was glad to discover only a few bruised things. He glanced around a bit more, while feeling for the seat belt release. It was awkward, as he was hanging in an odd position. He found the release and clicked it off, crying in anger as he instantly dropped. Squirming around a bit, he managed to get himself into a position to kick the battered door. He eased himself out through the shattered window, trying not to lodge any of the glass in his already tender skin. Once outside, he stumbled to the ground, laying in the ditch face down. He fought with waves of nausea, knowing that he needed to find out if Chloe was alright. He groaned, pushing himself to his hands and knees, his head aching tremendously. Somehow, he found his way around to the driver's side of the car. He was shocked to find that it was almost completely flattened. "Chloe?" he cried, fumbling in his jacket for his cellular phone. He numbly dialed 911 with his bloody fingers, holding the phone shakily to his ear. Finally the operator answered. "This is FBI Agent Mickey Callavelo, I've just been in a serious car accident and I need assistance right away," he managed calmly. He listened for a moment as the operator asked him a question. "I'm sorry, I don't know where I am, you're going to have to trace my cell phone," he said, then he threw the phone down, inspecting the car for any signs of Chloe. He needed to know if she was all right. Before long, however, the blackness enshrouded him again, causing him to sink into unconsciousness. He managed once more to call her name before he succumbed completely. ------ Orangeburg, South Carolina 3:15 PM Fox Mulder sat in the passenger seat, tapping his finger on the arm rest beside him. He and Scully were on the way to the crime scene and Scully had insisted that she drive. Mulder had agreed, figuring she might hurt him if he didn't. He grinned as she cast a confused look at him. "Mulder, did I miss the turn?" she asked, glancing in the rear view mirror. Mulder glanced down at the map the sheriff had drawn, which was in his lap. "Uh, I don't know," he said, picking it up. He couldn't tell what was what. "That's because it's upside down, idiot," she said, laughing. Mulder smiled at her remark, turning it right side up. "You should talk, idiot! You're the one who missed the turn," he retorted, but Scully wasn't listening, her gaze was transfixed on something in the distance. Mulder followed it and discovered a bunch of vehicles-- police cars and ambulances-- further up the dirt road. "Wonder what's going on," she mumbled, as she sped up. "Maybe we can help out." "I doubt it. They look like they're doing a pretty good job," he said, sighing. Scully shrugged, pulling the car to a stop several feet away, to be sure they wouldn't be in the way. Both of them stepped out, Scully instantly reached into her coat for her badge as one of the officers came over. "Good afternoon folks, I'm sorry but--" he began but Scully smiled, holding her badge under his nose. "FBI," she declared in a serious tone. "I'm Agent Scully and this is Agent Mulder. I'm a doctor, can I offer any assistance?" she asked, observing as the officer's jaw dropped and he looked relieved. "No ma'am. There's nothing you can help with, however I'm glad you two are here," he said, nodding for them to follow. Mulder deftly stepped around the car and followed the officer and Scully to the sight. He looked it over. It looked like a pretty bad crash had occurred. The car was flipped on its roof, the entire driver's side crushed in. The front end was also condensed, apparently having hit the huge tree before them. He was wide eyed as he watched the police and firemen working with large metal cutters to open the driver's side door. "What's going on?" Scully asked, concern written on her face. Mulder thought that perhaps she felt the strange aura he was feeling. "Well, you two are FBI? Seems that we have two other agents. A man by the name of Michael Callavelo and the woman, trapped in there is Chloe Grant," the deputy said. Scully gasped. "Are they alright?" Mulder heard her ask in a frightened tone. "Mr. Callavelo is fine, a mild concussion and a few scrapes and bruises. As for Ms. Grant, we couldn't tell you. You can see we're still trying to get her out. She is alive however, she's been talking deliriously on and off," the officer said, looking sadly at the door. "What happened?" Mulder asked, wondering how Grant could have gotten into an accident. He knew it wasn't impossible but FBI agents usually had pretty good control over their vehicles. "Mr. Callavelo says the car must've been sabotaged. We're going to look into it as soon as Ms. Grant has been evacuated and taken to the hospital," the officer shrugged. "Can we see Mickey?" Scully asked, hoping she could talk to him. "He's already been taken to emergency just to be sure that he'll be all right. Anyway, if you'd like to go to the hospital that would be okay, because we have a lot of work to do here and I don't mean any disrespect, but it'll be easier if you two aren't getting in the way," he said, his tone sorrowful but commanding. Mulder nodded, putting a hand on Scully's arm. She was engrossed in watching the men working at getting the car door off. Mulder wondered why she seemed so worried about Grant, but he guessed that she had just grown attached to her, even in such a short time. He could understand, he'd felt the same attachment to Scully when she first joined him with the X-Files four years ago. "Let's go see Mickey," he said softly. She nodded, turning just as quickly and heading back to the car. She tossed Mulder the keys and sank into the passenger's seat. Mulder mumbled another thanks to the officer before getting in the car and pulling away from the horrid scene. ----- Orangeburg, South Carolina County Hospital 8:12 PM She was sitting on the bed, rubbing her hands together, when he entered the room. A scowl on her face. She looked up when she realized he was standing there looking at her. "Mickey, how nice of you to come and see me," she said, smiling. He nodded, looking over her. Her hair was still in tangles, covered in dirt and sweat. She obviously hadn't had a chance to do fix her appearance. Not that it mattered to him, he was just her partner, concerned for her well being. Mickey shrugged, stepping closer to the bed. "How're you feeling?" he asked, standing beside the bed and gazing at her, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Like I've just driven a car into a huge tree," she said, rubbing her head. Mickey smiled, amused that she was making jokes. "Beside that, I think I've faired pretty well," she mumbled, sliding off the bed to stand uneasily. Mickey lunged forward, but she waved a hand, stopping him. "I'd say so," he said, standing away again, trying to give her some space. "So, you've just got a few bumps and bruises, huh? I'm surprised." "A few bumps and bruises? And a broken finger," she held up the bandaged pinky finger, which he hadn't noticed. "And a mild concussion. I hear you came out pretty close too, huh?" she said, smiling. Even when she had been hurt, she was using her humor to lighten the situation. Mickey was impressed. He shrugged again. "Yeah. I'm just glad you're not hurt. By the way, Mulder and Scully showed up," he said, his expression turning puzzled. "You didn't ask them to come, did you?" he asked. Chloe shook her head, then grimaced, waves of nausea flowing through her body. She sat down on the edge of the bed again and waited for them to pass. "I didn't ask, but I knew Mulder would come. I am kind of surprised to learn that Agent Scully came with him. . ." she said, resting her head in her hands. "You should rest. I'll come back later," he said, turning to leave. "Wait! You can't leave me here. I don't want to stay here," she whined. He turned to her and released a grin. "Tough. This is one time in your life that you aren't going to get what you want," he said, opening the door and exiting into the quiet hallway beyond. Chloe Grant sat on the bed, angrily wondering why Mickey wouldn't let her go with him, but she supposed it wasn't up to him. If he could have, he probably would have let her go back to the motel. She sighed, swinging her feet up and resting back against the pillow, wondering how long she'd have to stay here. It wasn't as if she were dying or in critical condition, it was just a few minor injuries. She paused on that thought, wondering what had really happened. The car had definitely been sabotaged, but she couldn't-- no matter how hard she tried-- come up with a good reason for it. It wasn't as if they had any solid leads, which might turn up something, causing someone to want to kill them. She groaned, pushing the thoughts out of her head. She needed to get some rest. The pounding in her head persisted, causing her to wish she'd never survived. ----- End Part Eight -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Nine ----- Scully closed the door quietly behind her and almost bumped directly into the tall figure standing in the hall. "Mulder!" she hissed, annoyed. "You scared me half to death! I thought you were on the phone to the mechanics." "I was. I'm finished. How's Callavelo?" he asked, taking her elbow and leading her down toward their rooms. "Banged up, exhausted. Asleep, at the moment. I must say, Mulder, he's a bit more resilient than others I could name," she grinned at him. "He's got a nice sized knot on his head and two bruised ribs. A mild concussion, but not enough to keep him awake for the night. They wanted to keep him but he talked them out of it. Unlike Chloe, he's been awake and alert since the paramedics showed up. I gave him some Tylenol and he crashed like baby. I should check on him later, just to make sure he's okay." "So, how much do we charge for baby-sitting these two, Scully? A buck fifty and hour just doesn't seem sufficient, somehow." Mulder unlocked his door and waved her in. She walked into the room, identical to her own, and sat at the small cherry desk by the window. The room was in line with the lobby, cheery, nice decor, comfortable. All the money spent on this hotel seemed to have gone toward the interior decoration and certainly not the outside maintenance. "So what did the mechanic say," she said, ignoring his comments. "What happened to that car?" "And what makes you think our young Agent Grant didn't just fancy herself as Bobby Unser at Indy?" he asked derisively. She gave him The Look and he nodded. "You're right, of course. Accelerator was set to jam at 55 mph. The brake lines had a trip mechanism that caused them to fail at about the same time. Sort of like the bomb on 'Speed', if you're into the romance of Hollywood. There was no way she could have avoided a crack up. They're just lucky they made it out alive." "No prints, I presume," she added glumly, toying with the notepad on the desk. "Clean as a whistle. Not so much as a fiber, the good Chief assured me. He's a little upset at the moment. First time he calls out the Federal Hounds and they almost get killed in his own backyard." "So who did this, Mulder? I mean, this was a serial killing they were investigating. I know the killer probably isn't too keen on being discovered, but why kill the investigators, especially when they don't have any leads? Wouldn't that lead to possible exposure?" "I don't know, Scully. It has me puzzled, too. It doesn't seem to fit my profile. . ." he looked over at her and cringed. He had walked right into that one. "So, you got bored and decided to write your own profile, huh, Mulder?" Scully asked, the accusation as sharp as the daggers in her eyes. "Scully, back off, huh? I just sort of. . .doodled my way into a profile. . ." "Already finished the Sunday Crossword puzzle, I suppose. Honestly, Mulder, that is not your job, and you know it!" she stormed. He swallowed and sat on the edge of the bed. "OK, so maybe it was out of line. But this one is really eating at me, Scully. I don't know why, it just won't let me alone. I'm not messing around in it officially. I just. . ." "You just flew down here to check up on the agents of record, wrote a profile separate from the official record, what's next, Mulder? You going to run off and track the guy down yourself, then bring him in, ALL BY YOURSELF? I ought to pack you up and drag you back to DC by the seat of your pants!" Scully huffed angrily. "If you want, you can go back to DC. I won't try and stop you," he said quietly, staring at the floor. "No, Mulder, that is not what I want," she said, trying to be patient. "I want you to tell me what is going on here," she sighed. "One minute you are all hot to move up the Bureau ladder, get us into new positions, promotions that neither of us thought possible 6 months ago. Then suddenly, you want to get back in the action. I feel like I'm at a tennis match, and I'm the ball! Will you tell me what is going on in that pointed little head of yours?" She got up from her chair and walked over to sit next to him on the bed. "Do you hate your new job that much?" she asked, absently rubbing his shoulders. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. Suddenly, realizing that he was enjoying this entirely too much, he sat up straighter and looked at her. "I don't hate it that much," he protested. "I just. . .Scully, I just can't help it with this one. I have to be here. I don't know how else to explain it. I'm not trying to be difficult, really. I just. . .need to be in on this one. Do you understand?" He was pleading with her and she couldn't refuse. She sat there next to him, not knowing what to say to him. Finally, she gave him a smile. "I'm here, aren't I?" she whispered. He reached up and touched her cheek, a gesture that made her close her eyes for a second before opening them to regard him. his mind was yelling at him. it added. He dropped his hand, but not before he noticed the smallest glint of disappointment in her eyes. "Hey, I'm starved. There's a diner a couple of blocks from here. My treat," he said lightly, trying to move on as quickly as possible. "Hmmm, let's see. Central South Carolina. Lots of grease, salt, and cholesterol. Just your speed, Mulder. Sure, let's go," she laughed. The diner was exactly as Scully had predicted, 'home cooking' which meant bacon grease in everything, but even Scully had to admit that it tasted pretty good. She ordered ribs and salad, he had the 'Blue Plate Special' of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans with bacon and onions, and a healthy slice of pecan pie. "I've got my Pepto Bismol waiting for that to hit your stomach, at about 2 this morning, probably," she said, motioning to his overloaded plate with her fork. "Cast iron, Scully. My stomach is cast iron. This is nothing," he countered. "Oh, yeah? Well, for your information, even cast iron has been know to 'rust' with age, and you, Mulder, are not getting younger," she teased. "Nope, I'm just getting better," he teased in return. It felt so good to be on the road with her again. Times like this, during a case that was beyond befuddling, having a few minutes to joke over dinner, that's what he missed about his new job. That, and being able to look over at her at any time of the day and just watch her at her desk, typing, writing, lost in thought. his inner self chided. "Earth to planet Mulder," she was saying, waving a hand in front of his face. "You still with me, here, Mulder?" "Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, Scully. My mind was just wandering," he said with a faint blush. , was actually responding to him in a. . .. He put his hand up to release her hold on his neck. "I don't know, Scully. Is this such a good idea?" he asked, his breath coming in little short gasps that revealed exactly how much of a good idea *he* had thought it was. "Mulder, what are you afraid of? We aren't 'partners' anymore. This isn't forbidden anymore. I've been trying to figure out why we went through all this promotion crap if you hadn't thought about this. So what's the problem?" she asked, getting an annoyed tone to her voice. He pushed up again, this time she let him. He had a confused look on his face, like he had just walked through the looking glass. "You mean, you. . .you thought. . .I mean. . .Scully. . ." he stammered. She sat up next to him. "Mulder. Why did you kiss me?" she demanded. He looked even more perplexed. "It seemed like a good thing to do at the time," he admitted, sheepishly. She chewed on her inner cheek a moment. "It *seemed* like a good idea, *at the time*," she said forcing the emphasis on the words between her teeth. "It SEEMED like a good idea AT THE TIME!" she concluded, getting a bright red flush to her face. "You have not TOUCHED me in all the years we've been together and tonight, while trying to get me to give up a remote control, you kissed me like I have not been kissed in YEARS because it seemed like a good idea at the time!" she hissed. "YOU are HOPELESS, Mulder! Totally hopeless." She was still seething, but she sat a while and just stared at him. "Mulder, how do you really feel about me?" It wasn't a question, it was a demand. And he felt completely unprepared to respond to it. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin, hoping she wouldn't hear him. "I love you, Dana," he whispered. "I guess I've always loved you. But I don't deserve you," he continued, still not opening his eyes. "You deserve somebody who's sane and stable and doesn't wake up at all hours of the night with cold sweats and screams, someone who isn't obsessed with a search that began over twenty years ago, someone who can love you and keep you safe and not put you in danger for his own agenda. That's why it was a good idea at the time, and I will treasure every second, but it's also why I have to get the hell back to my room as soon as possible or things are going to get completely out of hand." Two small, soft hands encircled his neck again and two even softer lips gently grazed his. He opened his eyes to gaze into eyes of the most breathtaking blue. "Too late, Mulder. Things are completely out of hand already," she murmured, pulling him down to the bed and this time, he didn't resist. She pulled him down on bed again, this time moving slowly, gently. He had a look in his eyes that reminded her of rabbits in the forest when they realize they are trapped with no escape. "Mulder, you never did answer me. *What* are you afraid of?" she whispered. "I promise, I won't get mad. I want you to tell me, what are you afraid of?" She was gently caressing his cheek and looking at him with those eyes that he had come to love and trust so much. He had to tell her, but he wasn't sure of his reasons himself. "I don't know, Scully. I'm afraid. . .well, now that we don't really work together, I'm afraid if we went any further, you'd decide I wasn't what you're looking for and then we'd drift apart, and. . .and then I'd lose you." He said the words so softly that it tore her heart. "Well, you know, there is another possibility, here. We could take our relationship a little further, since we're already friends and we trust each other, and we could actually get something neither of us have had much experience in," she said while running her fingers through his hair. He looked at her, confused. "Something neither of us have had. . .such as?" "A life, Mulder. We might just give each other a life," she said with confidence and leaned over to kiss him. "I love you, Mulder. And I've missed you. I'm used to seeing you 16 to 18 hours a day and I really miss that. I don't like being apart. If we can't be together at the office, can't we at least be together the REST of the time?" She kissed him again, a little deeper, and it lasted a little longer than the last time. "You really don't have to be alone, Fox. And neither do I. You just have to believe." And finally, like a dam breaking, Fox Mulder drew Dana into his arms and sighed. "I believe. . ." The morning broke with sunshine through the window, making lazy patterns through the lace curtains that cast shadows on the quilt. Mulder shifted, so he could look down at the red haired woman sleeping in his arms. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. She stirred and snuggled closer into his embrace. "Hey, sleepyhead, you gonna wake up soon?" he chuckled. "I suppose I have to sometime, huh?" she yawned. "You know, Mulder, after this case, do you think we could take a REAL vacation? Someplace where there aren't FBI agents, local cops, yellow crime tape. . ." He reached up and ruffled her hair. "What, and miss all that glamour and excitement? Come on, let's move it. We have to wake up Callavelo and I need to stop by the front desk." "What for?" she asked, slowly extracting herself from his arms and the covers. "There is no way I'm paying for two rooms when one seems to be all we need," he said, searching the covers for his boxers. She smiled all the way through her shower. ----- End Part Nine -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net @ drakkar@bconnex.net Part Ten ----- September 3, 1995 Queen's Motel 8:55 AM Mickey Callavelo finally knotted his tie, after having unsuccessfully tried six times. His head hurt a lot, but he was bound and determined to get this investigation over with so he could get himself back to Washington. He didn't like the fact that someone out there had tried to kill his partner and himself. He was just glad that Chloe wasn't dead, simply because he was beginning to feel the tendrils of attachment creep around his heart. Chloe Grant was the type of woman that wormed her way into anyone's heart. She was deeply admirable and very interesting, despite how much he'd tried to deny it. He was just glad that he hadn't ended up with a total flake as a partner and he knew he could count on Chloe if he ever got into a serious crunch. She'd be there for him and he had decided that no matter what, he'd be there for her too, despite the arguments they seemed to be having. He ran a hand through his thick black hair, checking his tie once more to be sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him and then walked to the door, picking up his wallet from the table as he passed. He clipped his gun into its shoulder holster and took the jacket from the closet. He opened the door and was startled to find Agent Scully standing there, her fist raised and ready to knock. "Oops, sorry," she said. Mickey instantly noticed a strange grin that was plastered to her face. He would have thought that if anything, her face would have shown fatigue, but it didn't. It looked as though she'd slept incredibly well. He sighed, wishing he could say the same. "Hey, no problem. I was just coming to wake you two up anyway. I think I'm going to go over to see if they'll let me have Grant back. I know she's suffering miserably in there," he said, stepping out into the hallway beside her and allowing the door to close and automatically lock. She nodded, then smiled again. "Okay. Well, I think Mulder and I have some things to take care of. How about we meet you at the hospital in a half an hour?" "Good idea. See you then." ----- County Hospital "Hey," he said as he walked into the hospital room. He noticed that Chloe Grant's appearance had changed completely since yesterday. She'd showered and had gotten all the dirt out of her hair. He was glad, because now she looked pretty normal except for a small cut that ran down the side of her cheek. "It's about time, homey!" she said, standing up and smiling at him. He was surprised at the amount of energy she appeared to have. "Have they got you on some sort of wonder drug?" "Nah, the pain is still there. I'm just trying to appear as though it's not bothering me," she said, smiling. "Besides, I had to fool the doctors into letting me out of here. So, let's get out of here before they decide they want to keep me!" "Not so fast. Mulder and Scully are coming here in about twenty minutes. I guess they want to talk to you, find out what's going on." "Okay, but at least take me to the cafe so I can get some food into me," she said, patting her stomach and making grumbling noises with her mouth. "They didn't feed you? You poor girl," Mickey teased, holding open the door as she strode out. The cafe of the hospital was rather empty, being so early in the morning. Chloe ordered toast and orange juice while Mickey decided he'd just have a cup of coffee. He wasn't feeling much like eating food. He sat across the table from her, watching her chew thoughtfully on the toast, wondering what she was thinking. Of course, he knew that when he was supposed to know, she'd tell him. Sure enough, he'd been right. She noticed the look on his face and set down her toast. "All right. I have a plan of action for today," she said and watched as he nodded for her to continue. "Let's check out the foster homes where these children were taken from and possibly the schools, see if we can find any sense of connection at all. Anything that might help at least get us started. I'm not sure what that button means but--" "The button! Oh man! I didn't get the button back. I wonder if Charlie has it..." "You'd better hope he does. It's the only thing we have that might be of some use," she said, glancing around the cafe. "By the way, what did the police say about the accident?" "Well, I'm not sure. You'd have to ask Agent Mulder when he gets here. I think he was calling the mechanic when I fell asleep last night." "Agent Mulder..." she said thoughtfully, pulling on her bottom lip. He could tell that her line of thinking was slowly changing. "Listen, Mickey, I want to ask you something but I don't want you to get upset at me, okay?" He nodded, his stomach sinking slightly. "Go ahead," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee. "Agent Mulder is here because of what I mentioned on the plane. I think he has a specific interest in this case. I think we're going to have to share it with them. I want to know if that's okay with you. I suspect they're here on unofficial terms, but this case means something to him. What do you say?" she asked, her eyes dancing with a strange light. He wished he knew what she was thinking all the time, but Chloe thought in strange ways. He thought about it for a moment, then decided that they would probably be better off if they had the help of the two older agents. "That's fine by me. I'm just glad that we'll be able to call upon their expertise," he finally said. She nodded and sipped at the orange juice. "Good." Mickey noticed as her eyes drifted to the entrance of the cafe where both Agents Mulder and Scully had just appeared. He smiled. he thought, waving at them. "How're you feeling, Agent Grant?" Scully asked as she pulled up a chair beside the blond haired woman. "It's Chloe. And I'm fine thanks." "Glad to hear it. I was afraid you'd be worse off than you were, considering the condition of the car when they pulled you out," Scully said, nodding. "Anyway, I guess you're both wondering what we're doing here, considering we haven't had much time to explain," Scully began, then looked at Mulder. "Well, you see, Agent Scully and I were on vacation and we just happened to be driving down the road and noticed--" Mulder began, a huge grin on his face but immediately stopped when Scully's elbow connected with his ribcage. "Ugh! Scully, you're gonna pay for that," he mumbled. Chloe raised an eyebrow and looked at the two of them. She tossed a lopsided grin at Mickey, then turned her attention back to the two agents. "Actually," Mulder continued, "to tell you the truth, we thought you'd might like some help, so we flew out here to offer our services." "We'd be glad to accept," Chloe said, smiling. She looked from Mulder to Scully then at Mickey. All three seemed to be content. Mulder nodded, almost as though he were relieved; Scully smiled faintly and Mickey just stared straight ahead. She could tell he wasn't really that impressed with the idea, but knew that he was stumped and wouldn't refuse some good help when he got it. They discussed a quick plan for the day, Mulder and Mickey deciding that they would go over to the police station to see what was going on about the accident and to see if they had recovered the button. Scully and Chloe were going to head over to one of the foster homes to speak to the foster parents. The men left the table and Chloe chewed on the last bit of toast, while Scully waited. "Agent Scully, you look a little... Uhm, happy," Grant noted, knowing exactly what had happened the night before. She was very perceptive when it came to those things. She grinned as Scully immediately blushed. "What?" she asked, trying to see if she could get away with false ignorance. "Don't play that game. Don't even go there. I can see it, it's written all over your face," Chloe said, a smile turning up the corner of her lips. She could tell that Scully was hoping that no one had noticed. "Don't worry, I won't tell Mickey. Heaven knows that his opinion of you isn't that great to start with." "Just what is his opinion of me, anyway?" Scully asked, quickly changing the subject. "I couldn't tell you for sure, but I'm pretty sure he's not used to women in the work force, even though he knows damned well we've been here for a long time," Chloe said, biting her lip and trying to think of an easy way to explain the behavior she'd observed in her partner. "He, uh, thinks that we're supposed to do dishes and things like that. I'm not sure where he could have gotten that sort of opinion, but I guess it was just part of his Italian upbringing." "So in other words, I'm supposed to be at home making dinner and having children?" Scully said, laughing. Chloe was just glad that Scully was as understanding as she'd hoped she'd be. "Yeah, pretty much. And you know, for all my perceptiveness, I still can't figure out exactly what he thinks of me." "I think I know. He likes you. I can see it in the way he looks at you. He's already thinking about the future, hoping that your partnership is good enough. I think he's hoping you won't transfer," Scully said with a smile. Chloe nodded. That's what she had thought, but Mickey seemed so strange that she never could tell. They were silent for a few minutes, and Chloe felt an urge to create mischief again. She turned to Scully and smiled. "So, what's he like, Agent Scully?" Scully looked at her curiously for a moment, wondering where the question had popped up from. A smile crept across her features. "Excellent," she whispered, deciding that she could trust Grant not to spread anything like a wild-fire. "Wouldn't surprise me. He kind of reminds me of an old boyfriend of mine," Chloe said, then winced. Scully looked at her for a moment. "You all right?" she asked. "Yep, no physical pain. Just mental rehabilitation," Chloe said, knowing she shouldn't have brought up the subject. Scully shrugged, letting it go. Grant was glad, she didn't feel like explaining her terrible relationship at the moment. "Shall we blow this joint?" Scully asked. Chloe nodded and pushed back her seat. "The toast is lousy," she said, pointing at the tiny crumbs that were left on the plate. She laughed as Scully nodded and said, "I bet." Together the two women walked out of the cafeteria and out of the hospital. ----- Fox Mulder walked into the police station with Mickey trailing silently behind. He smiled at the woman behind the desk, who now looked past him and grinned at Callavelo. "Charlie! Those F-B-I's are back," she hollered. Within a few seconds Mulder heard the reply. "Send 'em in." "You can go on in there. Would you like some tea?" she asked, indicating a pot in the corner. Both agents shook their heads. "No thank you. We're only going to be here for a few minutes," Mickey replied politely. Mulder nodded. Together they walked to the door of the Chief's office and entered quietly. "Agent Callavelo. Agent Mulder. Have a seat," the chief said, smiling at the two agents. "What can I help ya with?" "Well sir, it seems we might have misplaced a bit of evidence that we had in the car at the time of the accident. We were wondering if you had found an evidence bag containing a small button?" "I don't think so. Not off hand. But I can get one of the officers to check for you," he said, looking out the window. He honestly appeared to have no idea. "By the way, how's that partner of yours? She's all right, I hope." "Yes, she's fine. Thanks for asking. If you could check on the button for us, we'd appreciate it," Mickey said, patiently waiting as the chief picked up the telephone and dialed. Through out the whole thing Mulder hadn't said a word. Mickey wondered if he were doing it purposely. Perhaps testing his skills. Maybe he was just going to guide them along after all. Mickey couldn't be sure. He sighed inwardly and hoped he was right by allowing Mulder and Scully to help out with the investigation. He had a feeling if the Bureau ever found out that they'd all be into loads of trouble. One more glance at Mulder confirmed that he wouldn't be saying anything. The man was lost in his own world. "Okay, the officer says that they didn't find anything at all at the scene. I can send someone out there to look for you, if you'd like," the man said, hoping he'd be able to help. "Oh, no. That's allright. Agent Mulder and I will check it out for ourselves," Mickey said, as he got up. He gently tapped Mulder's shoulder and he snapped into life. "Thanks for your time," he said, waiting for Mulder to reach the door. "Hey, what the heck is your problem? You come here to help and all you do is sit in the chair with a nutty grin on your face!" Mickey asked Mulder Mulder looked at the younger agent and decided not to say a word about the night before. He also knew that if he didn't put it out of his mind, Mickey would eventually figure it out for himself. Mulder collected himself and put the thoughts of Scully out of his head. Mulder thought, and then frowned. He would do it now, but if everything worked out he wouldn't have to do it any longer. "Uh, nothing. I'm just thinking about... The case," he mumbled. For some reason, he thought Mickey was going to laugh, but the younger man just smiled and slipped into the drivers seat of the car. ----- Dana Scully looked at the five children seated around the large table happily eating breakfast. She and Chloe had come to the foster home where the latest victim had resided. All of children seemed to be in good shape and most all of them were chatting across the table. Scully wondered why anyone would want to hurt a bunch of innocent children. Her heart went out to them, and she frowned. Scully turned her attention back to the woman who was now answering one of Chloe's preliminary questions. She was a short woman approximately in her twenties. She had brunette hair and gray eyes. Her voice was calm and cool her tone seemed to reflect that she worked with kids, using proper English and grammar. Scully was also surprised to note that she didn't have the accent that most of the people seemed to have. "Well, I think Arthur Grimsby was her best friend. I'll ask him to come over when you're done with me, if you'd like." "That's OK. I'm not sure what I'd want to ask him. But I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Emily Davidson. Was she a quiet child? Did she have any medical history?" Chloe asked. Scully remained silent, sure that Chloe was asking all that she should be. "That's one thing I noticed about Emily, she never ever got sick. She never complained about being sore or tired. She never cut herself. She was a strange child, actually. She wasn't quiet per se, but she did tend to keep to herself a lot. She had a great sense of humour. It's such a shame..." "We're going to get to the bottom of this, I promise," Chloe said absently, lost in thought. Scully looked over at the agent. Grant seemed to have hit a dead end. She frowned, lines creasing her forehead. Dana felt sorry for her. It was her first case and she was having a bitch of a time. "I really hope you find who's been doing this. These are innocent kids being murdered," the woman said, then pushed back her chair. "Uhm, if you'll excuse me I have to get these kids going. I'll be happy to answer any further questions later, if you like," she said, excusing herself and walking slowly away. Scully looked at Chloe and shrugged. "Well, I guess that's that. Now what?" she asked. "I don't know. I really don't know. I'm stuck. I can't get anywhere and I can't think of anything else to ask." Chloe shook her head sadly. "How about if we go and see the school nurse, perhaps she had the chance to do a blood test on Emily." "Sounds like a plan." ----- End Part Ten -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Eleven ----- "It shouldn't be that hard to locate, Callavelo! I mean, my god, we should be seeing skid marks, crime tape. . ." Mulder was trying not to get exasperated. "Look. I know it's here, but I can't find it! Besides, you were there, too," Mickey said pointedly. "Have _you_ seen any skid marks, crime tape or anything?" They had been up and down the county road almost 5 times. Mulder stared out the window intently, then closed his eyes. He tried to envision the trees, the underbrush, the mile markers, anything that might lead them to the scene of the accident. Then he opened his eyes. "Stop the car!" he commanded. Mickey pulled over to the side of the road. He, too, stared at the area and then slowly opened the car door. Taking his time, he examined the ground at the side of the road. Then, he joined Mulder, who was looking intently at the bark on a tree, flaking it off in large pieces to reveal a scar underneath. "Impressive job," Mulder muttered, almost to himself. "Who would have done this?" Mickey demanded, not quite willing to believe what his eyes were telling him. The scene of the accident, that was less then 24 hours old at this point, looked perfectly undamaged. The tree where the car had been wrapped around was even 'patched' to appear unharmed. Mulder was quiet for a moment. Mickey stared at him, waiting for an answer. Finally, Mulder straightened up and starting marking off the distance to the road. "Well, Callavelo, I could tell you that, but then I'd have to kill you," he teased. Mickey kicked a rotting log in disgust. "You know, Callavelo, it's possible that we've, er, you've stumbled on to something that someone in authority doesn't want to be stumbled on." "Ah, Mulder! Don't give me that government conspiracy crap! I don't buy it. I know this looks. . ." he was at a total loss for words. "Okay, it's a professional job. . .but still. . ." Mulder sighed deeply and crossed his arms, looking like a headmaster about to expel a particularly difficult student. "Callavelo, how many serial killers have you tracked?" Mickey looked at the older agent defiantly. "Just because I'm not the VCS poster boy doesn't mean I don't have a background here, Mulder," he growled. "Okay, so how many serial killers that you've had 'background' in would one, do a professional job on your brakes so that you would almost certainly not survive the crash, and two, clean up the accident scene after the police have already searched the area?" Mulder's tone was challenging. Mickey stood in stunned silence. "Why bother to clean it up if the police have already been here?" he asked, more of the air, than of Mulder. "My point precisely," Mulder exclaimed triumphantly. "Your killer couldn't care less. Any clues leading to him would have been uncovered by the police. Unless, of course, this killer happens to be experienced in police procedures, or was trying to avoid any further investigation. Most serial killers I know are mentally deranged individuals who get their jollies committing untold atrocities or in just plain killing people. They usually don't get involved in 'cloak and dagger' stuff. It's not a part of the game. It doesn't get them off. He hasn't played 'James Bond' at any of the other sites, so why do it now?" "It doesn't fit the profile," Mickey whispered. "And if it don't fit, you must acquit?" Mulder grinned mischievously. Mickey shot him a dirty look and Mulder's grin only grew. "Okay, Callavelo. You don't have to believe me. I can't give you hard evidence that this 'accident' was planned, implemented and 'cleaned up' by a group in any way connected with our government. It could have been a Reticulan operation, for all I know," he said, and watched in delight as Mickey threw up his hands in disgust. "BUT, you have to admit, it was not done by the killer. Am I right on this one?" Mickey chewed on his lip for a moment before answering. "Yeah, you're right, on that ONE item," he added guardedly. "So what are the chances that the 'group that wants you dead' might have found the button that you were holding?" Mulder asked quietly. "Too darn good for my liking," Mickey answered in disgust. "My thoughts exactly," Mulder agreed. "C'mon. Scully and Chloe are supposed to meet us for lunch. And maybe one of Charlie's men located the button by now. At this point, I'm afraid it's our only hope of finding it." ----- Orangeburg Diner Scully and Chloe had just sat down at the booth when Mulder and Mickey walked in. Neither of the men looked entirely happy, and the women didn't seem too enthusiastic at the results of the morning, either. Scully got up to wave them over to the booth. She caught Mulder's arm before he sat down. "You okay?" she asked, concerned at the scowl on his face. He forced himself to smile, nodding almost imperceptibly. "Just peachy," he said, hoping she would understand that it was something he wanted to discuss in private. She did. "So, guys, did you find the button?" Chloe asked, searching Mickey's face for some sign that he wasn't mad at her in particular. "The place had been swept clean," Mickey muttered, almost too quietly for the other agent to make it out. "What do you mean 'swept clean'?" Chloe asked, now scowling almost as much as Mulder had been previously. "Swept clean! As in 'no sign of an accident'," Mickey growled. Sensing her hurt and confused expression, he softened. "They scrubbed the tire marks, they swept the soft ground at the side of the road so no tracks remained, they even went so far as to cover the scar on the tree with fake bark. Somebody did not want that place to be looked at again. And we didn't find the button," he added in disgust. "Shit," Chloe muttered. Scully made a point of exchanging a questioning glance at Mulder. He shook his head, pleading with his eyes that she not ask those questions at the moment. She understood and sat quietly. "Did you find out anything on the Davidson girl?" Mulder asked, hoping to guide the conversation off the topic of the accident scene. "She was quiet, had a couple of friends among the foster children, but none really close and she's not been sick in the 9 months she's been in Orangeburg," Scully sighed, closing her notebook. "And since she's never been sick, and it wasn't the scheduled school year for physicals, there has been no blood drawn on her since her arrival, either," Chloe added. "A few more dead ends and I'm gonna start thinking I'm in a cemetery," Mickey muttered. Chloe kicked him softly under the table and gave him a 'chin up' smile. Mulder had been quiet for some time, lost in thought. "There's still the school. It's possible that someone connected with the school is involved. I have a suggestion. How about you two going over to the school and see what you can find out? You can take our rental car." "And what are you going to be doing?" Mickey asked, somewhat suspiciously. "We're going back to the hotel and check our e-mail," Mulder dismissed him. Chloe couldn't help the knowing smile that played on her lips and Scully saw it. Silently, she pleaded with her for forbearance. Chloe winked and said nothing. Mickey had missed the interchange between the women, but was willing to accept Mulder's explanation. "Sounds like a plan," he said, and picked up the check. "Okay, Mulder, what are you thinking?" Scully asked as they made their way to her room. "How beautiful you look when you're stumped?" he retorted. She playfully kicked his shin. "Ow, hey not so rough! What makes you think I'm thinking?" he continued. "Something is whirling around in that little space you have between your ears, Mulder. I can hear the hamster wheels squeaking," she teased. He tried to look offended, but failed. "It was something you said, Scully. Emily has only been in Orangeburg for 9 months. She's in foster placement from another city, a big city, if what Chief Russell told Mickey and Chloe is correct. So, has anybody run a missing person's on these kids?" "Mulder, they're in foster care. They had abusive parents. They aren't foundlings. What are you thinking?" Scully asked. "All 6 of these kids are from other places. We know that at least the last one came here within the last year. Before that, we know almost nothing about her, except for her considerable involvement with the State of South Carolina's child welfare system. But we don't know her parents, her _real_ parents. That information was not in the files. We'd need a court order to get it, Scully. I'm saying, what safer place to hide a kid than in the child welfare system? They just disappear off the face of the earth. Kids are always slipping through the cracks! It's the perfect hiding place." "Hiding place for whom, Mulder? Who would want to hide these kids?" Scully asked, still trying to figure out what leap of logic Mulder had taken. "Someone who wanted to take previously 'abducted' children and re-enter them into society, Scully," he said and was not at all surprised at the look of exasperation on her face. "Scully, think about it! These kids had 'green goo' instead of blood. They weren't your normal, run of the mill, foster kids. And they hadn't been in any place for more than a year for the last couple of years, I'd wager. So let's pretend that I'm not totally insane, here. Let's pretend that someone, or something, abducted these kids, turned them from normal to abnormal, like those bodies you saw at the Hanson's Disease Research Facility, and then decided to return them to society. They couldn't very well give them back to their parents, now, could they? Parents are going to demand physicals. Parents are going to ask questions. Parents are going to notice if their child happens to bleed green instead of red! So, the kids end up in a child welfare system, away from their homes. We already know that mind wiping is not just for science fiction anymore," he added pointedly. "And then, somebody has decided, for whatever reason, to do a clean up operation. Is that so implausible?" Scully closed her eyes and said nothing for a moment. "Either you are trying desperately to come up with a solid reason to put down on my commitment papers, or you're actually beginning to see where I might be on to something," Mulder said with a grin. Scully licked her lips and Mulder couldn't help but notice how that simple gesture had a very profound affect on his heart rate. he chided himself. Finally, Scully looked down at her hands, breaking their gaze. "Mulder," she began quietly. "At some other point in time, I would have gone to the local pharmacy and prescribed the thorazine myself. But after what I saw in West Virginia. . ." her voice trailed off. She got up and walked over to the window. "I don't think we could ever convince Callavelo of this line of inquiry," she said quietly. "So? We do a little side investigating. It's mostly computer stuff, anyway. It's not like we'd be stepping on toes. We don't even have to tell him until we have some proof." Mulder got up and walked over to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "We don't say anything until we have hard evidence. Does that make you feel better?" She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck. "A little," she said with a shy smile. "So what was that little silent exchange between you and Chloe when I said we would come back to the hotel?" he asked, kissing her forehead. Scully was too busy enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin to want to answer, but knew better than to remain quiet. "Well, she sort of, ah, guessed," she said in a husky whisper. He continued to trail kisses over her closed eyelids. "Guessed? Guessed what?" he murmured. Scully was no longer satisfied with just receiving his attentions, so she had started giving his chin some attention of its own. "Guessed about us," she murmured. Mulder pulled back and looked at her with dismay. "Guessed about _us_? As in, what we did last night? How!? How the hell could she. . ." Scully laughed softly at his reaction. "It's okay. She's not going to tell anybody. I guess she noticed that we were both smiling a little too much this morning. Hey, she was the one to bring it up and she was also the one to promise not to tell Mickey. She doesn't think it would improve his opinion of me if he thought I'd slept with you. Or maybe, it would improve his opinion of you, I don't know. But don't worry, she's keeping it to herself." Mulder moved over to the bed and sat down. Scully looked at him, concerned. "What's the big deal? It's not like we're violating Bureau policy anymore. Hell, Mulder, there is nothing to stop us. We discussed this last night, remember?" she asked, annoyed at the obvious backtracking he was doing. Mulder looked up at her, a little stricken. "It's not that. I just, I don't know. I'm not ready to tell the world, yet. I want to make sure it's safe, you know?" "My little paranoid sweetheart," she sighed affectionately. "Look, remember Aubrey, Missouri? You couldn't figure out how I knew that BJ Morrow and Lt. Tillman were having an affair? It's a woman's thing, Mulder. For some reason, we just have radar in this area. Chloe knew it, at least she was honest enough to confront me for verification. And I know, just as surely, that she would never betray my confidence." "Not even to her partner?" Mulder asked pointedly. "Not even to her partner," Scully assured him. "Look, I mentioned the incident in Aubrey to you because it was related to the case. I've noticed lots of little 'trysts' at the Bureau that I've _never_ mentioned to you. It's not that I don't trust you, or that I would lie if you asked me to confirm your suspicions. I just don't divulge all of my knowledge of other people's personal lives." She straddled him, with her hands on his shoulders. "We aren't going to have to go through a repeat of last night, are we? Where I have to practically force myself on you to get you to believe that you're worthy of my affections?" she teased. With one quick twist, he had her flipped onto her back and pinned beneath him. "No, I think we settled that one last night. I just don't want to take out any billboards just yet. I enjoy keeping you all to myself, right now," he growled and slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. "My lips are sealed," she murmured as he leaned down and made sure of her promise. Orangeburg Elementary School 2:15 pm The principal of Orangeburg's only elementary school was a slight woman of approximately 40 years of age. But the look in her eyes showed a strength and determination that reminded Chloe of several veteran agents she had worked with at the Bureau. She stood up from behind her desk and removed her glasses before holding out her hand to the two agents. Chloe mused as she shook the woman's hand and accepted the proffered seat. She noticed Mickey's respectful and attentive manner. He looked like an eighth grader, she thought for a brief moment. One that had been caught smoking in the boys room. She bit her lip to keep the smile off her face. "Mrs. Chaney, we were wondering if we could get a copy of the employment records for the school. We are looking for recent employees, perhaps people who have come on board in the last school year," Mickey said. "Would you like teachers only, or all staff?" Mrs. Chaney asked. "All staff, actually. We don't overlook anyone. There have been several cases where a janitor or even a cafeteria worker has been involved in pedophilia, kidnapping. . ." Mickey trailed off. "I can assure you, Agent Callavelo, we check our people out closely. South Carolina may not be the richest state in education, but we have child protection laws. Our employees, everyone who regularly works with the children, has to undergo a fingerprint analysis, which I believe is conducted through your data bases at the FBI," Mrs. Chaney bristled, somewhat offended at the accusation that had been made. "Mrs. Chaney, that data base contains only people who have been arrested for one of the child endangerment crimes and have been indicted," Mickey said pointedly. "There are still many loopholes in the system. And there are new people on those files everyday. Now, I'm sure you are as interested in bringing the person who killed these children to justice as anyone. Believe me, we aren't here on a witch hunt. We simply want to check ever angle." He gave her his best smile. She relaxed a little. "I'll have Ms. Black make you a copy of our staff listing. Is there anything else?" "We are probably going to interview the Emily's teachers, just to see if any of them might have noticed someone new in her group of friends. And, of course, any one who appears to fit the profile of the killer that we're working from. But we'd like to keep this as quiet as possible," Chloe added. "We have a conference room off the library. It's quiet and not many students go in there. Feel free to use it to talk to anyone in the school. I'll have Ms. Black show you the way," Mrs. Chaney added, flipping the intercom on her desk and summoning her secretary. As soon as the agents were settled in the conference room, Mrs. Chaney placed a long distance phone call to Washington, DC. ----- End Part Eleven Bed Springs(3/4)*Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs(3/4) by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Twelve ----- Office of Walter Skinner Washington, DC September 3, 1995 "Where the hell are they!?" the man asked, angrily standing above him with his hands palm-down on the desk. "I told you! Both of them decided to take their holidays earlier this year and I feel they deserve it!" Walter Skinner shouted back. He was not impressed with the way the man before him sometimes tried to intimidate him with his glowering stares. The man pushed back away from the desk, reaching into his coat pocket for a package of Morley's. He swiftly pulled one out and stuck it into his mouth. "I want to know exactly where they went, and I want to know NOW!" he growled as he sucked on the cigarette, trying to light it with a match. "I'd have thought you'd have learned by now. I don't give in to your demands," Skinner said, standing up. "And I don' want you smoking in my office!" He snatched the cigarette out of the man's mouth and snapped it in half, tossing it into the ashtray. "Listen to me, you asshole--" "I'd suggest you stop. I'll have you kicked out on your ass so fast you won't know what happened," Skinner said, firmly. He put his hands on his hips and watched as the Cancer Man's scowl deepened. "Now, I've told you before. They're on vacation. I don't know where and I don't care. For all I know they're on the moon sunning it up with aliens," Skinner said, stepping closer. "Now get out of this office, before I have you physically removed!" he finished, using his height as an advantage over the older man. The man's eyes darkened and he turned quickly on his heel, storming out of the office. Skinner sighed angrily, looking at the ashtray where the cigarette butt still glowed red, tendrils of smoke emerging from it. Skinner picked up the remaining cigarette butt and crushed it in his hand, ignoring the burning of his flesh. ----- Orangeburg, South Carolina Elementary School 5:45 PM They had been sitting in the conference room for hours, going over records and talking to some teachers and other staff who seemed to have small inconsistencies in their files. Nothing had been turned up. Mickey Callavelo stretched his arms above his head, locking his fingers and letting out a loud sigh. He pushed back his chair and stood up, going to stand behind Chloe to see what she was up to. She turned her face up at him for a moment and gave him a cocky, tired smile. "Had enough, big boy?" she asked, pushing the book that was in front of her away. He stepped back as she pushed her chair out and stood up. "Yeah. We're not getting anywhere. I haven't seen a loophole in the records for almost an hour and the last person we interviewed was clean. My eyes are getting sore. At this rate I'll develop an incurable headache," he mumbled, angrily. "You *are* an incurable headache," Chloe said and he gave her a sarcastic smile. She laughed and took a hold of his shoulder. "Mickey, loosen up! We're going to find that break, I promise you. Maybe we should try and find out where that button came from. I still think it's the missing link," she said, tightening her grip. He shrugged loosely, and shook his head. "That button could have come from anywhere. Maybe it was even one of the investigating officer's. We have no way of knowing for sure." He hung his head agitatedly. "You're not. . ." she playfully lifted his chin with one finger so that he looked into her eyes. "Giving up, are you?" she asked and he shrugged, breaking free from her grip all together. He paced silently for a few minutes, trying to clear his thoughts and put some order back into things. "I'm not going to give this up! I can't give it up. It's just too. . . I don't know, but I do know that we owe it to this town to find--" Mickey began but he was cut off when the door burst open and a young girl dashed in, tears streaming down her cheeks. She threw herself against the wall and sobbed uncontrollably, obviously she hadn't noticed they were there. Long locks of brown hair cascaded down her back. She looked to be about eight years in age, but Mickey couldn't tell for sure, since her back was to them. Mickey and Chloe exchanged a look before they slowly approached the girl. "Honey?" Chloe said, gently putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. The girl instantly tensed, then slowly turned around. The sobs had been cut off completely and she was shaking in fright now. Chloe knelt down so that she was at eye level with the child. "Honey, what's wrong?" "W-Who are you?" the girl asked shakily. "My name's Chloe and that's Mickey, we're FBI agents," Chloe explained quietly. Mickey was impressed with the way she instantly changed personalities when dealing with certain people. He was awed at how soothing her voice was right now. Mickey thought, as he watched the girl slowly calm down. "FBI? Whoa!" the girl said, then a smile erupted on her lips. Chloe grinned back. "Are you hurt? Can you tell us what's the matter?" Chloe coaxed. "I-I. . . Uhm, hey, how do I know you're an FBI agent?" The girl asked, growing suspicious. Chloe exchanged a glance with Mickey, who simply shrugged. Sometimes kids just said the craziest of things. "Here, I'll show you my badge," Chloe said, slowly reaching into her pocket and pulling out the black case which contained her ID. The girl took it into her hand and opened it slowly. It was almost as if she expected it to snap shut on her fingers. She glared at it for a few moments, then the grin returned. "You look funny in your picture," the girl said, then erupted into giggles. Mickey smiled as he watched and wondered what Chloe's picture looked like. It occurred to him that he still hadn't seen her badge. "I know. But I'm a funny gal. So, now that you're convinced that I'm an FBI. . ." "I just had a fight with my best friend. She makes me so mad sometimes," the girl said. Chloe regarded her for a moment. "I see. That's okay. Friends are allowed to fight sometimes, you know. Actually, my friend Mickey and I always fight. Right Mick?" she asked, and the little girl looked up at him. He nodded, hiding a smile as best he could. "See, it just goes to show how much you care about each other," Chloe added. The girl nodded. "So, what's your name, honey?" Chloe asked. "My name's Samantha." "What a beautiful name! I always wished my parents had called me Samantha, you know," Chloe said, cheerfully. The little girl beamed. "I bet your last name is even better." "I don't have a last name." "What? No last name? Come on, you're pulling my leg!" Chloe teased. "No seriously! I don't have a last name! You see, I live in a foster home across town and I don't remember much about how I ended up there," the girl said, happily relating her life's events as though she didn't care who knew. Finally Mickey stepped forward and tapped Chloe on the shoulder. He turned to Samantha. "Will you excuse us for a minute, Sam?" Chloe patted the girl's shoulder lightly for a minute and then eased herself up from her position on the floor, walking with Mickey to a spot that was out of Sam's earshot. "I think we've got something here," Mickey whispered, staring into Chloe's eyes. "Mick, she's just a girl. She has absolutely nothing to do with this case," she replied, watching as his face clouded over and he threw a glance back at Sam. "You're sure about that?" "I'm pretty sure." "Well, I'm not. I've got a gut feeling about this and I just want you to humor me about it, okay?" he said and for the first time he wondered if Chloe would raise a complaint. She stood still for a moment, contemplating. "Fine, Mickey. If you've got an idea, then we'll go with it. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," she whispered finally and he smiled. He'd won that small confrontation. In a moment, Mickey turned back to the girl and softly explained to her what was going on. He asked her if she would like to see the inside of a police station. She nodded happily. ----- Dana Scully awoke to the sound of a cell phone ringing. She lifted her head away from Mulder's chest and strained to figure out whether it was her phone or his. She eased herself out of Mulder's embrace and reached for her purse, pulling out the cell phone. "Scully," she whispered, trying not to wake Mulder if necessary. If she'd known how that phone call would change his life, she would have awoken him in a flash. "Agent Scully, it's Chloe. Mick and I have found one of the kids with green blood. We're at the hospital." "All right, I'll be right there. Tell them to prepare an autopsy bay for me. I'll be doing this one myself--" "No, that won't be necessary. She's alive." Scully's jaw dropped at the words. She shifted around, drawing her knees up to her chest and sat silent for a moment. "She's alive?" "Yes. Her name's Samantha. She says she doesn't have a last name. Lives at one of the foster home. We've, uh, taken her to the hospital to do a few tests--" Chloe explained, but stopped at Dana's sharp intake of air. To Dana's surprise, her hands were trembling as she held the phone. she thought. Then she felt Mulder's hand begin to rub her back and she tensed completely. Could she get his hopes up like that? "Okay, I'll let Mulder know. . ." she said after a few moments of silence. She'd already decided that she would not tell Mulder the girl's name. If it was Samantha *Mulder*, they would find out together at the hospital. "Thanks. I guess we'll see you two in a while," Chloe said, then hung up. Scully sat quietly for a moment, Mulder's hand reached up to her shoulder as he slowly sat up. "Dana, you okay?" he asked, concerned at her tension. "Yeah, fine. They've found one of the children and she's very much alive. Maybe we can finally get somewhere." "Was she attacked?" "Apparently not. I'm not sure how they found her," Scully said. she tried to convince herself. She knew she wasn't lying to him, but she was willingly keeping the truth from him. her inner self chided. Scully shook her head and slowly got up, heading quickly to the bathroom before Mulder could see the look on her face. She knew it would give it all away. ----- End Part Twelve -- Apologize for the multi-postings. I hate my newgroup reader. *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Thirteen ----- Orangeburg Hospital "What exactly did Chloe say on the phone?" Mulder asked, for possibly the tenth time since they had received the call at the hotel. "Just that they found a child with green blood, alive, and they were here with her," Scully replied, trying to keep her patience. "This could be the break we're looking for," Mulder said, speeding up his steps. Scully's hand on his arm brought him to a stop. "What?" he asked, aggravation clouding his face. "Okay, it's the break *they're* looking. . ." "No, that's not it." Scully sought for the right words. "I just. . . I want you to know. . . I love you, Fox," she said very quietly. He grinned broadly. "I figured that out between last night and this afternoon," he teased. "But come on, now. There's a time and a place, Scully. And now is neither, so let's hustle." Samantha was looking more than a little scared as she sat in the examining room, dressed in a hospital gown. The doctor was nice enough, but she didn't feel sick and she sure didn't understand why the FBI would be so interested in her. She wasn't a stupid child, she had heard the snatches of conversation. And as much as she had been told not to watch, she had caught a glimpse of the blood sample as the technician drew it into the vial. It had been green, the color of the antifreeze her foster father put in his pick up to keep the old thing from overheating. That wasn't right. She knew a little about the body and health and blood, she knew, was supposed to be red. But then, she couldn't remember the last time she had fallen or skinned a knee. It had to have been a long time ago, maybe over a year. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes as she tried to remember what her life had been like before, before she woke up in a foster home, with no last name, no memory of a family, nothing but a little bracelet with the name Samantha engraved on the back of one charm. Mickey and Chloe were standing in the hallway outside the examining room, deep in discussion. "Maybe we should have all the foster kids in the county tested," Mickey was saying sarcastically as Chloe rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying that it's a pretty big coincidence that so far, all the victims, and now a totally unrelated little girl end up with green blood," Chloe hissed back. "And I doubt that we could manage to get them all tested. We're just lucky Samantha's foster parents were also friends of Emily's foster parents and seem to care about her enough to have her tested. Otherwise, we'd never have found out anything." She looked up as the big double doors in the middle of the hall, dividing the in-patient rooms from the out-patient exam rooms, opened and Mulder hurried toward them with Scully quick on his heels. "Where is she?" Mulder asked without greeting. "Has she said anything?" "Outside of her name, her first name, she doesn't seem to know anything. Literally," answered Chloe. Mulder shot her a perplexed look, so Mickey filled in the blanks. "She entered the child welfare system almost a year ago. Before she got to her current placement, no one knows for certain where she came from. And for some reason, she's suffering from amnesia," Mickey added, glancing at his notes. "Did anyone search missing persons?" Mulder asked, somewhat lost in thought. "Checked her prints, but found no match among recently missing children. They mentioned a glitch in the system, though," Chloe chimed in. "A glitch?" Scully asked. "Yeah, but it didn't pan out. The foster parents said there had been a match on prints, but the girl whose prints she matched, and not 100% by the way, has been missing a long time. She'd be a lot older by now, in her late twenties or something," Mickey said, dismissing the whole discussion. Scully turned visibly white. "Did the foster parents say they knew the name of the missing girl?" she questioned Mickey. "Nah, I don't think they ever knew. No matter, it wasn't a match, so why bother," he replied. "Can we go in there? I'd like to ask her a few questions," Mulder said looking up and down the hall for doctors or nurses, those people who tended to stand guard over patients. "I don't see why not," Mickey said. "We've been in and out of there for the last 45 minutes and no one has tried to stop us. C'mon, I'll introduce you." He walked over and pushed open the door, knocking lightly as he did. "Sam," he called. "There are some people here I'd like you to meet. They're friends of mine and Chloe's, so you don't have to worry, okay?" "Okay, Mickey," came the soft voice from inside the room. Mickey didn't notice Mulder's reaction to that voice, but Scully and Chloe did. It looked like he had just stopped breathing. In a split second, Mulder had shoved Mickey aside and was in the room. The minute his eyes met the hazel eyes of the little girl in front of him, he lost all color in his face and Scully grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. "It can't be. . .it can't be. . ." he managed to whisper. His eyes searched for and found Scully, standing with the same wide eyed wonder he knew he had to be displaying. Sitting on the examining table was the spitting image of the little girl whose picture rested on Mulder's desk in the office. In front of the them was Samantha Mulder. "We've been fooled before," Scully whispered hurriedly in his ear as she fought to bring him back to reality. It took him a moment, but slowly the more rational part of his being took over. He nodded slowly, but didn't trust himself to speak. He looked over to Scully, pleading for her help. She understood and nodded in return. Scully let go of Mulder's arm and he slid down into a plastic chair in the corner of the room. She made sure he was okay, then walked over to the little girl on the table, who was looking at them with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "Hello, Samantha. My name is Dana. I'm a friend of Mickey and Chloe's. And this is Fox, he's our friend, too," she said quietly, calmly, more calmly than she felt. She watched closely for any reaction Mulder's name might have produced in the girl, but Samantha's expression did not change. "Are you with the FBI, too?" the little girl asked. The more she talked, the more apparent her soft New England accent became. It sounded totally out of place after days of hearing the deep Southern drawl of the residents of Orangeburg. "Yes, we are. Do you know why we're here?" Scully asked. "Because somebody hurt Emily and she died," Samantha answered. "But I don't know who it was. I didn't know Emily very well, she was older than me," she added. "That's okay, Samantha. But we would still like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind. Maybe you saw somebody, somebody who likes to talk to the foster kids, at school maybe. Do the foster kids play together much?" Scully asked. She could hear the heavy breathing coming from the chair behind her and knew this line of questioning had to be driving Mulder insane, but she wanted to ease into any other discussions. The little girl looked frightened enough without adding more confusion. "Sometimes we have family picnics," Samantha said thoughtfully. "But we're all in different grades and go to different churches. We don't play together much, except all the kids in one house, maybe. I didn't know who Emily played with," she concluded. "What's wrong with Fox?" she asked suddenly. Slowly, Mulder stood up and walked over to the girl. Scully couldn't decide if she should stop him or let him go on. Finally, she let him go to her. Mulder's eyes were focused on the small charm bracelet on Samantha's left wrist. "Where did you get your bracelet, Sam?" he asked, trying very hard to sound collected. Samantha looked down at the bracelet and frowned. "It's from before," she said simply. "Before what?" Mulder prodded gently. "Before I came here. I don't know anything about back then. Mrs. Dodds says I can't remember because someone hurt me real bad and I'm afraid I'll remember the hurt. But I don't think so. I think," she stopped and took a deep, frustrated breath. "You think what?" Mulder continued. "I think somebody 'stole' them. My memories. I don't think I got hurt. Sometimes I have dreams and they're happy dreams. I had a family, and they loved me. I know kids who were hurt by their moms and dads. They have scary dreams and are afraid all the time. I don't have those dreams. My dreams are good," she added confidently. "I have dreams, too," Mulder confided. "What are your dreams like? Do you remember anyone's face or name?" Slowly, the psychologist's mind was coming to the fore and Scully sighed with relief. It had been close. "There aren't any people in my dreams. Just a house. I'm in my room, but I know there are other people in the house, I just can't see them. They're aren't in the room." "What does the room look like, Sam?" Mulder continued. "It's sunny. There are two beds, with a big book case in between them and two windows, one on the wall by my bed and one on the wall at the foot of my bed. My bed has a really pretty bedspread that's white with ruffles and hearts that are made of that red cloth, what's it called? It has lots of little checks of red and white?" she asked of the two women in the room. "Gingham," came the answer, from Mulder. "The hearts are of red checked gingham." Samantha looked at him and giggled. "Yes! That's what it's called! Gingham," she pronounced it, delighted that he would know. Mulder's voice was growing very tense, but he kept on with the interview. "What about the other bed, Sam? Do you remember it?" The little girl's face screwed up in concentration. "Yes. It's got a blue bedspread. It's not pretty, like mine. It's got lines on it, but they are the same color. The lines make it feel rough when I sit on it." "Like little cords running through it?" Mulder asked. "Uh huh, like cords. And I don't sit on it very much because it belongs to my big brother, and he doesn't like me to mess with his stuff," she admitted. At that small confidence Mulder turned and walked from the room. Scully turned to Sam quickly. "I think Fox must have been paged," she lied. "I better go give him his phone, it's in my pocket," she smiled. Then, in a quick aside to Chloe, she whispered. "Don't let her out of your sight and see if she remembers 'people', Chloe. Anything she remembers about her family. Especially her big brother. I'll be back in a minute." Then she left the room to search for Mulder. It took her a while to find him. He must have started running the second the door closed behind him. He was sitting in the small garden outside the hospital where the smokers went for their breaks. There was no one there but him and he was crying. She walked up to him slowly and sat down beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "She got that bracelet from our grandmother," he said between breaths. "For her eighth birthday. And our room was just as she described it. She had this bedspread. . .my God, Scully, Mom still has it. I remember the day we moved out of the old house, she made me take it off and put it in the trunk because she couldn't stand to touch it." He looked at her with stricken eyes. "Could it be? Could that be *my* Sam?" Scully took a deep breath. This was going to be extremely dangerous and her answer had to be exact. She knew how tenuous her partner's hold on reality was at that moment, and the wrong word or action could drive him away from her forever. That was not a consequence she was willing to accept. "Mulder, we can't be sure of anything. I have to admit, though, that she looks just like your picture. And it would be easy enough to examine the bracelet. Regardless of whether she is the real Sam or not, she does seem to be connected in some way." She watched him closely and he closed his eyes and nodded. "So what do we do? How do we find out? And my God, Scully, she's still a little girl. I mean, the clones, at least they were grown women. Could she just be a clone, too, one who hasn't grown up yet? And why doesn't she have any memories? The clone who was killed on the bridge, she knew all about Sam, knew the games we played, knew about me, remembered the night she was abducted." He stopped and looked at her with all the pain and anguish that could his eyes could possibly hold. "I want it to be her, Scully, but I'm afraid. I'm so afraid. . ." ----- End Part Thirteen -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Fourteen ----- "Chloe?" Mickey asked, uneasily. He had watched as Mulder shot out of the room hastily and had known that Scully lied to the child about the pager. He was missing something. He didn't like to be missing something. "Uh, I don't know what's going on," she whispered in his ear, so that Sam could not hear them. "I suspect that this is why Mulder was so interested in this case. Except I don't think he really expected to find what he was looking for," she explained, going on feelings that she'd been seeing in him ever since she'd met him. She had heard stories about his sister's disappearance but it was only now just occurring to her. This girl reminded him of his missing sister. It all made sense and it all fit into the her puzzle quite nicely. She shrugged at Mickey, then moved closer to Sam, bringing the plastic chair to sit in. "Samantha, can you tell me anything else about your brother?" Chloe asked, using the same calming tone she had earlier when dealing with the upset child. Sam blinked at her for a moment, wondering what was so important about her brother, but shrugged. "I don't remember much. He was pretty tall. Much taller than me. Uhm, he had brown hair and he was skinny. Come to think of it, Fox reminds me a lot of him. The voices I hear in my dreams are always kind. Soothing, like Fox's," she said, and Chloe smiled at her. "Well, honey, Dana thinks it's important that you try and remember as much as you can. Can you explain anything else about your family?" Chloe asked, then glanced at Mickey, who had his small notepad out and was ready to take notes. "Uhm, I really can't. . . Wait a minute. There's one dream I have pretty often. There are little men standing on a board. Red and Blue. It's a game that my brother and I used to play all the time. Sometimes though, the dream changes and the little men are engulfed in light and they float away from us." Chloe looked puzzled, throwing another look at Mickey. He shrugged, writing vigorously as the girl spoke. "This game, do you like it?" "Oh yes. I can remember it being fun. . . I think," she said, hesitantly. "If we took you to a toy store, do you think you could point it out?" Chloe asked, almost at a loss for questions. She wondered if the game was important. "I don't know," the girl said, and shrugged. "I'm hungry, can I have some food?" "Sure, honey. I guess Mickey and I could treat you to lunch, but we'll have to wait for Dana and Fox, they'll be hungry too," Chloe explained, hoping that they would return soon. "How about you lay back and relax. I need to speak to Mickey about special FBI things." "Will there be any more tests?" "No, Sam, no more tests. Promise," Chloe said, crossing her heart. Sam giggled and nodded, laying back on the table and closing her eyes. ----- "You can't promise that there'll be no more tests," Mickey said as soon as the door to the room swung shut. "Oh yes I can. We're finished with her--" "What if they want any more blood tests?" "They'll have to make due. I can't let them take any more. We can't risk her finding out that she's not normal. At least not until we know what's going on." "Sometimes--" he said between clenched teeth. "Sometimes what, Mickey?" she asked. He remained silent. "Sometimes you'd just like to punch my lights out, wouldn't you?" she suggested. "You know, you're right about that. But for the most part, I don't hit women." "I think I'd prefer it if you did hit me, you know why?" Chloe said, her tone softening. They had both been under a lot of stress and now they just needed some sleep. Very badly. "No, why?" "Because then I can trust you not to shoot me when things get really bad. Believe me, this is just the start," she said, easing into a calmer tone and letting some of her humour drip into it. Mickey relaxed visibly and she was glad. Yet again she'd stepped on his toes and she could tell he was getting sick of dancing. "I just realized something," Mickey said, smiling. "You mentioned something on the plane. Said I'd have to wait to find out. You never told me what it was." "Oh, yes. You'll still have to wait. Maybe later tonight I'll tell you," she said and her grin widened as she remembered. ----- Scully wrapped her arms around Mulder and allowed him to let his feelings flow out. His tears dripped on the lapel of her coat, soaking the material and making it appear much darker. He sobbed, shaking against her, she held him tight as if her strength would be passed into him. Finally his tears began to fade and he looked up at her with damp eyes, almost as if he were ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said, using his hand to wipe away the remaining tears from his cheeks. "I just feel so helpless," he said, standing up, his back to her. "Don't be sorry, Mulder. I love you and I'll be here, however you need me," she whispered as she put her arms around his waist again, resting her cheek on his back. She could feel that he was still shaking. His emotions were raw and she knew that he wouldn't be useful for much longer. She should insist that he go back to the hotel, knowing only too well that he'd refuse. "Scully, we've got to talk," Mulder said suddenly, and he slowly turned around in her arms, raising his hands to her face. He peered down at her and his expression scared her. "Mulder, I know--" she said, but stopped as his index finger touched her lips. "Dana, if that--" He caught himself, then started again. "If she's really Sam, then I want to be sure she gets the right things in life. I think. . ." he stopped again. "Fox?" Scully asked, she didn't like where this was heading. "I think, if that is Samantha, I want to adopt her. She's my sister and she deserves to be a part of a real family again." "You call your fish and a well beaten sofa, a family?" Scully asked, her eyes round as saucers. Mulder was talking about adopting a child. It would be someone to care for, someone to show love for. Was he ready to handle having a child in his apartment? "She's a little girl, Mulder," Scully mumbled, unsure of what to say, aware that she was treading on very thin ice. "A family, Dana. You and me and Samantha," he said, after hesitating for a few minutes. Scully stared up at him, stunned, her jaw slack. "Mulder, you're not suggesting. . ." she trailed off. "Listen to me, Dana. I love you. You know I've been searching my entire life for her. We can live together and finally be happy. . ." he said, then noticed that her eyes had darkened. He had suggested the wrong subject way too early. His gravest mistake ever. He leaned forward and kissed Scully on the lips, if only to test her reaction. His guess was correct. She didn't return the kiss with much feeling at all. Was it because she was still too stunned? He didn't think so. "No, no. No. . ." he said, backing away. What had he done? "Scully, I didn't mean. . ." "Mulder, stop. It's okay. I understand what you're trying to say," Scully began, trying to seem like she understood. Had he been trying to propose to her? After such a short time? She didn't know, couldn't know. Scully watched in stunned silence as Mulder ran blindly away from her, his long legs carrying him much faster than she could ever hope to run. She let him go. ----- Mulder stopped running and threw himself on the grass. What had he been trying to tell Scully? He had been trying to tell her that he wanted to be there for her forever. But why had she become upset? Was she scared of sharing him with Samantha? Afraid that his love for his long lost sister would dilute his love for her? Could Dana Scully be that selfish? He hadn't thought so. Mulder stretched himself out on the damp ground, the sun sinking slowly into the horizon behind him. He buried his head in his arms and remained that way for a very long time, just thinking. The tears began to flow again a short time later and he knew that the little girl in the hospital room was indeed Samantha Mulder, his sister. His baby sister. He had waited a long time to see her again. Mulder had come close a couple of years ago when the clones had claimed to be his sister. That little girl in there *was* her, he could feel it. He could tell just by the way she looked at him. The sound of her voice sent chills down his spine. He wanted to bring her back into the family. Could he have them both? ----- Dana Scully slowly dragged herself up the steps to the entrance of the hospital. She felt like hell. There were so many things she needed to sort out. She couldn't figure out why she had been upset when Mulder told her that he wanted to adopt Samantha. She didn't know why the thought of it made her stomach turn and sink slightly. Perhaps it had been because she had received all of his attention for the last five years and wouldn't be used to it being divided. No matter how she tried to deny it, the truth was there, lurking behind it all. She was jealous. She wanted to have Mulder to herself, to explore this new found avenue of their friendship. She realized that by her own jealousy, she just might have driven away the only man she'd loved for the last five years. She was going to have to deal with Samantha, if she was the real Samantha, and accept her as part of Mulder. All part of the package. She pulled the door open and walked down the hallway to the elevators. She waited patiently, thankful that the time would allow her eyes to dry. The tears had begun to fall just after Mulder had run from her. The elevator arrived and Scully rode up in silence, finding a bathroom close to the wing where Mickey and Chloe were waiting for her. She rinsed her face and made sure that there was no trace of the anguish she felt, although she had a feeling Chloe would know the instant she entered the room, without Fox Mulder. She walked slowly, deliberately, towards the room. She pushed through the door and looked at the little girl who was sleeping peacefully on the examination table. "Mickey?" Scully asked. "Could you take her home to her foster parents? Tell them to keep a close eye on her," she said, an even and cool tone escaping her lips. She was glad for that one small savior. "Sure, Agent Scully. No problem," he replied. Chloe looked over Scully. Dana watched as her expression changed, noting that the other woman was taking mental notes, getting ready to ask questions at a later time. Scully found herself looking forward to getting everything off her chest. Chloe Grant was the perfect person to talk to. She seemed so. . . She was just very empathetic. Grant herself had even mentioned a bad experience with a man. Scully would not make a point to dump on the woman, but if she asked questions, Scully knew she'd break down. Perhaps Grant sensed that too. Perceptive. "Mickey, I'm going to go out and get some tea. Make sure you feed that kid, we promised, remember?" Chloe said, then grasped Scully's arm and fixed her with a purely sympathetic look. "Why don't you come with me? You look a little stressed." Scully nodded, unable to say anything, not trusting her own words. "Uhm, I'll see you back at the hotel, then I guess?" Mickey said, catching, for once, the negative vibes that were flowing through the room. He wondered how one person could change moods so quickly. He'd never seen anyone go from being on cloud nine, like Agent Scully had been that morning, to completely stressed. This case was definitely getting weirder and it was almost time he demanded some answers. ----- Orange Peel Coffee House Orangeburg, South Carolina 9:18 PM Chloe Grant sipped at her cup of tea, sitting across from Dana Scully in a deserted coffee shop. She glanced at Scully, who hadn't uttered a word since they left the hotel. Sometimes Chloe hated being so quick to pick up on other people's feelings. Sometimes it played havoc on her own system. "Where's Agent Mulder?" she asked, finally. "I don't know," Dana replied a little too sharply, looking away from her cup, which she had been staring into since they had arrived, and out the window. "Hold on here. Just this morning you were so-- Well, just what the hell is going on here?" Chloe said, sounding angry, even though she wasn't really. She wanted Agent Scully to realize just how serious she was about solving this case, and if the two older agents were going to get in the way, she wanted to get them out. No matter how much she admired Dana Scully, she needed to solve this case. Her first real case. "Who the hell is this Samantha and just what does she mean to Mulder?" Chloe asked, realizing that she'd spoken a little louder than she had intended and had attracted the attention of the stout woman at the counter. she thought. Her muscles were getting sore from the accident and her broken finger hurt and she needed to get some sleep. It had been one hell of a long day. Across from her, Dana Scully's gaze hardened and her eyes glistened. She set her jaw. Her grip tightened on the mug before her, making her knuckles turn white. Chloe had set her off and would probably pay for it with a few harsh words. "Agent Mulder," Scully said angrily, "has decided to play 'disappear'. I don't know where he is and frankly right now, I don't care," the doctor blurted. Apparently Scully wasn't angry at Chloe herself. "Dana, what happened? Between you and me, as friends. Explain it to me. I want to listen. You need someone to talk to," Chloe said, reaching out and taking the older woman's hand in hers. She could feel Scully's hand shaking beneath her firm grip. Scully was definitely using every ounce of her strength to keep from breaking down completely. Chloe let go of her hand, and looked sympathetically at Scully as the tears slowly began to flow down her cheeks. "Fox Mulder lost his sister a very long time ago. That little girl in that room resembles her to a 't'. That little girl *is* his sister," Scully spat out, finally. Chloe nodded as the pieces fell together. Of course, she should have guessed from the reactions. "He wants to adopt her. Wants to let her have a real family. This family, it includes--" Scully stopped, burying her hands in her face. "It includes Mulder, me and Samantha. He wanted to--" she stopped again, but this time did not continue. Chloe nodded. Both women remained silent. Chloe sighed inwardly. Obviously Fox Mulder had no idea just what he meant to Dana Scully. She did not ask any more questions. Dana didn't reveal any more information although Chloe knew that she needed to. Perhaps Dana wanted to deal with it internally. Chloe shook her head, remembering back to her own miserable relationship. She pushed the thoughts from her head. Maybe some day she'd explain to someone. Not tonight. She drank the last of her tea, and waited for Dana. ----- End Part Fourteen -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Fifteen ----- Orangeburg Hospital Samantha woke up with a start. She had just been having one of her dreams, but this time, at long last, there were people in it. Or one person, at least. Her brother. And it was Fox. Sam searched the small examining room for his face, but found only Agent Cavellelo in the room. "Morning, sunshine. Have a nice nap?" Mickey asked with a smile. This, he could handle. He had little sisters and nieces and 8 year olds weren't nearly as frustrating as women in their twenties. She returned his smile, then looked around the room again. "Where is everybody? Did Dana and Fox come back, yet?" she asked. Mickey took a deep breath, trying to quickly gather his thoughts. "Ah, no, they had some real important FBI stuff to do. They'll see you later, probably tomorrow. Chloe had to go with them. So, I guess that means I get to 'escort' you to lunch, Miss Samantha," he said, with much gallantry. It got the desired effect. The little girl broke into giggles. "Shall we go? Opps Cinderella, I think your ball gown needs some work," he said suddenly, remembering the hospital gown. "How about if I wait outside and you change into the one your Fairy Godmother gave you?" "If I'm Cinderella, does that make you the Prince," Samantha giggled with delight. "Nah, it makes me Nana the Dog, but hey, at least I'm in the story, right?" he smiled in return and left her alone to change. It took Sam no time at all to change and then she was in the hallway, looking for Mickey. "Where do you wish to dine, milady?" he asked in grave tones. "Well, the Dairy Queen is my favorite," she confided shyly. "Then Dairy Queen, it is. But you'll have to direct me. I may look like Bruno, but I lack his directional skills," he confided in return. More giggles and the two left the hospital. "I called your foster parents. I told them I'd bring you home after we have some lunch," Mickey told Sam as they settled into Mulder's rental car. Mickey thought. Whatever Mulder was doing, it was confusing Mickey completely. Here was an experienced agent, acting like a total loon. But that did fit in with the rumours. Suddenly, he was beginning to regret agreeing to have Scully and Mulder stick around. He had a case to worry about, and babysitting a pair of nutcase agents did not figure into his plans. "Turn here at the corner," Sam said, pointing and bringing Mickey back to the present. "Hey, you're good," Mickey said with admiration as they pulled up in front of the Dairy Queen. "You can direct me any time," he added. "I told you, it's my favorite place," she replied and quickly exited the car, racing him to the front door of the restaurant. "Okay, Sam. This is on the government, since you're helping with our investigation. The sky's the limit. What do you want?" Mickey asked, surveying the menu board above their heads. "Hmmmm, I want a double cheeseburger, fries, a chocolate milkshake, medium sized, and a hot fudge sundae for dessert," she rattled off the order. Mickey's eyes grew wide. "Where are you planning on putting all that food?" he exclaimed, noting her tiny frame. Sam giggled again. "I TOLD you I was hungry. I missed lunch at school and I didn't eat much at breakfast. I was helping dress the little kids," she said and then grew quiet. Mickey waited until the food arrived and they had sat down to talk again. "You woke up pretty hard in the hospital. Did you have a bad dream?" he asked. "No. I told you, I don't have 'bad' dreams. It was a good dream. And Chloe wanted to know more about my brother." She grew silent and stared out the window for a minute. "Does Fox have any brothers or sisters?" she asked suddenly. For some reason, she didn't want to tell Mickey about her dream, but she wanted him to answer some questions she had, nonetheless. "He had a little sister once, but she disappeared," Mickey answered truthfully. Samantha acknowledged his answer with a nod. Then brightly asked, "Hey, do you like baseball?" Fox Mulder took a deep breath and walked over to the parking lot. Cavellelo obviously still had his car. He had already checked the room and found that Mickey and Samantha had left and that Chloe and Scully were nowhere to be found. he thought ruefully. From the lookDana's face the last time he had seen her, he wouldn't have been surprised if she were packed and half way to the airport by now. he chided himself. The only option he had left was to go back to the hotel, and figure out what would really be best for Sam. Half way to the hotel, it struck him. Maybe he WAS asking too much. Maybe Dana wasn't jealous, she just wasn't up to taking on the responsibility of an 8 year old child. Sure, she had been willing to help him find his sister. But that was when they thought they would find a 30 year old woman. Someone who might need some emotional support returning to her old life, but who would have at least gone through adolescence. Looking at it from Dana's perspective, he could see why she had reacted the way she did. Now, he had to figure out how to make it right. There were two women in his life suddenly, and he refused to think he would have to lose either of them, ever again. Orange Peel Diner "Look," Chloe said, using her best 'mother hen' voice. "I think you need to go and think this through. Everyone's emotions are riding a little bit too high, right now. You need to be alone and figure out what's best for you, what's best for Mulder and maybe, even, since you are the rational one of this duo, what's best for Samantha. I do think Mulder is right on one score. Growing up in a foster home is not the most desirable lifestyle. If there is an alternative, it deserves to be looked into. But whether or not YOU fit into that picture, well, that's got to be up to you." Dana nodded slowly and started to get up. "Chloe, I . . . I mean, Thank you," Dana said softly. "Don't mention it. Especially since I could be arrested for practicing psychiatry without a license," she grinned in return. Dana smiled for a second and then left for the hotel. The walk to the hotel wasn't far, just a couple of blocks, but it gave Dana a chance to think. she said to herself. She chewed on her lip awhile. she thought ruefully. A child to raise. Of course, Dana wanted kids. She might have put off having them so that she could pursue her career, but that didn't mean she was completely oblivious to her own loudly ticking biological clock. And the man she could most easily envision having those children with was definitely Fox Mulder. she asked herself again. She was Fox's sister. Dana had no part in her, had no connection. She could see herself loving the little girl, simply because she meant so much to Fox. But what would happen when their own children started to make an appearance? How would they fit into to Fox's affections? Would Fox even want other children, since he already had one to raise--the one he had spent 20 some years searching for? She considered for a minute exactly what she was doing. she decided. She knew how loving he was. She knew how much he loved her. She knew he had even traded Samantha for her, once in his life. So why, in the world, did she think so much less of him now? she concluded. In the light of a little reason, what he was suggesting was something she might have suggested herself, given time to think through the options. But in typical Mulder fashion, he was two steps ahead of her thought processes and as a result, she had balked at his suggestion. she had to admit. The only difference now was that their relationship was so much deeper. And so much more emotional. Mulder could accept her questioning his theories on a professional level. But, her reluctance to jump on a marriage proposal, to him, was a rejection of *him*, not just a desire to think it through. she decided. She was almost to the hotel when she saw the lanky form in the doorway. He must have seen her, because he was standing there, waiting. "Hi," he said quietly, trying to gauge her reaction. "Hi, yourself," she answered. "Are you feeling any better?" "Depends," he replied. "On?" she asked. "On how badly I screwed us up," he said softly. She stood there and gazed up at him. "I don't think even you could manage to make me stop loving you, Mulder. If you haven't figured that out by now, I obviously have my work cut out for me." That elicited a small smile. "We still have a lot to talk about, though," she added. "I know," he said. "And I owe you an apology, too. It wasn't fair of me to dump all of this on you so suddenly. That was stupid, and selfish, and. . ." "Typical?" she smiled, just barely restraining a chuckle. "Am I that bad?" he countered. "Sometimes," she admitted. She saw his face fall again. "But not all the time. It's just that, sometimes, Mulder, you forget that you need to let me catch up, you know. You race so far ahead that that I have to run twice as fast to keep up with you. That goes for your mental processes, as well as jogging." "I'm sorry. I'm really very, very sorry. I can't promise I won't ever do it again, but please believe me that I never meant to hurt you or scare you away. . ." he pleaded. She cut him off with a finger to his lips. "I know that. And I may have overreacted a little, too. You have to know, Fox, I meant it when I said I love you. And I meant it when I said I would be there for you, however you need me. But this is a big step, several big steps, really, and I think we owe it to ourselves, AND to Samantha, to sit down and think it through before we rush in to anything. That doesn't mean my answer is 'no'. It means I take this proposition so seriously, that I want to make absolutely sure we are doing the right thing, for all of us. Can you understand and accept that?" "Ever the practical one," he smiled at her. "One of us has to be, occasionally," she pointed out. "So, let's go up to your room and talk it out," he said, opening the door. She hesitated. "I don't know, Mulder. I don't think that's such a good idea. Seems like every time we try to discuss something in that room, we end up not discussing much at all," she said in a low suggestive tone. He had to chuckle. "Okay, then we can go to my room. I have all my files on the bed, so *maybe* we might actually consider talking less work than, ah, other activities," he said and wiggled his eyebrows. She laughed and nodded in agreement. -------- Chloe was waiting for Mickey in the hotel when he returned from dropping off Samantha at her foster home. She had a sheaf of faxes the desk clerk had given her in her hand and a very disturbed look on her face. "What's the matter, now?" Mickey asked, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland. Every time he turned around, this case just got curiouser and curiouser. "I did a little checking. Seems that Mulder might have been on to something. Apparently, he called the DC office this afternoon and asked to have missing persons run a cross match on all the victims with their data files. Mickey, every one of those kids showed up on a list," Chloe said, handing the faxes over to Mickey. He sat down in a wing chair and read through the pages. "Chloe, some of these kids have been reported missing for . . .my gosh, 20 years! That's not possible! These were little kids, not midgets! What the heck. . ." Chloe stifled a grin. "Cavellelo, do you EVER cuss?" she couldn't help but ask. "Grant, when I'm mad enough to curse, stand back. You won't want to be in the shockwave," he answered with conviction. She eyed him suspiciously and nodded her acceptance. "And looky here," he added, coming to the last page. "Samantha Ann Mulder. Missing since Nov. 27, 1972. Eight years old, brown hair, hazel eyes." The fax contained a picture of young Samantha. "Now, THAT'S 'Spooky' for you!" He handed the pages back. "Okay, so now we have 7 people who never grew up, who have green blood, who were all abducted from their homes as children, suddenly showing up in Orangeburg, South Carolina, some as long as 23 years after their abductions, and 6 of them are already dead. Hey, I'm ready to go back to wire tap, how about you?" Chloe scoffed at him. "Michael, Michael, Michael. . .I never thought of you as a quitter. C'mon, that's what the NORMAL agents are there for! We're the X-Files--ALL of our cases are likely to be like this one! Where is your sense of adventure? As far as I'm concerned, this case is just starting to get interesting! I only wish. . ." she trailed off, looking up the stairs of the old hotel. "Wish we could actually get some assistance from our 'assistants'?" he added, to end her thought. "Yeah, something like that," she sighed. "Well, at least it makes more sense, how. I mean, if it had been my sister. . .I would have freaked, too I guess. But that doesn't really explain Scully's actions. I mean, it's not like they're involved or anything," he said, then caught the look Chloe was giving him. "Or are they?" he asked, this time suspicious. "Are all Irish-Italians from Chicago as dense as you, or did you just fall off the family milk wagon once too often?" Chloe asked, disgusted. "Hey, I lived a sort of sheltered life! Gimme a break here. Besides, he didn't say anything. . ." Mickey tried to defend himself. "And I'm sure when you sleep with a woman, IF you ever do, you go out and blab it to the first person you meet," she shot back. Mickey blanched. Chloe slapped herself mentally. "Oh," was the only word to escape Mickey's lips. There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence, when he finally regained his composure. "We better keep an eye on Samantha. We may not know exactly who is after her or why, but I think it's fairly obvious that she is in danger, and at this point, we seem to be the only people sane enough to protect her," Chloe nodded and followed him out the door. ----- End Part Fifteen -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Sixteen ----- The shifting of the wind was enough to tell him that the fire would burn rapidly through the house. It would definitely be an easy job, especially with the aid of the can of gasoline that he had been given. He silently walked around the building, splashing the gas carelessly over the walls. He made sure that it was thoroughly covered, stepping away from the house and deeper into the shadows of the night. From there, he lit a small piece of cloth, which had been soaked in gasoline too, pushing it into the remainder of the can. He heaved the can up over his head and tossed it easily through the window, smiling at the thrilling sound of glass breaking. As one final precaution, he lit a match and tossed it into a patch of grass which he had made a trail of gas to. It quickly caught fire, traveling quickly up to the walls of the house. He watched as the blaze quickly engulfed the home, then turned and ran away, not leaving any evidence of having been there... Except another tiny button from the military suit jacket he'd been wearing. ----- An affair! Agent Scully and Agent Mulder were having a damned affair and Chloe Grant had known about it. Mickey Cavellelo was furious. Why hadn't he seen it? Why hadn't he picked up on it? And of course, the fact that it was interfering with their work was even worse. As Chloe drove slowly towards the foster home of Samantha Mulder, he sat in the passenger seat, thinking about his obvious blindness. "I can't believe it," he mumbled, staring into the darkness, out the window of the passenger door. "What?" Chloe asked, flashing a quick glance in his direction. Mickey hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. "They're having an affair," he said, straining to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He should have known better, Chloe picked up on it directly. "Relationship. Neither one is married, so therefore it's not an affair," Chloe corrected, happily. Mickey balled his fist, controlling his temper. "Thank you," he said, seething. "I don't care what they're having, except the fact that they're messing up this case!" he cried. His cheeks flushed red and he stared at Chloe. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would never *ever* have agreed to let them help." "Okay, let's get some things straight. For one, I'm sick of your attitude. Mulder was the one who originally had the idea of checking against the missing persons database. Without that, we wouldn't have found out what these children had in common," Chloe said, feeling her own temper rising. Mickey had better watch it, because her temper did not rise often. "Without their help, we'd be back in Washington by now, scratching our heads and wondering what wiretap would really be like." "Chloe--" "And for another thing," Chloe's voice had grown harsh. "If you don't clean up your act, you're going to discover just how good at bone rearrangement I really am!" she said, trying to keep focus on the driving. "You don't have to get so upset, I just don't like the way everyone is keeping things from me," he said, trying to calm himself and his partner down. "Michael, they didn't want to tell you for that *exact* reason. You blew your lid. Besides, it's their life and they can do whatever the fuck they please. Do you understand?" she asked, turning the corner and pushing the gas pedal down. She was still a little weary about the accident that had occurred just yesterday, her concussion hurt, not to mention driving with her broken finger, but she was angry enough not to care. "Yeah, I get what you're trying to say, but this is my first case and I just don't want to mess it up!" "You think I want to mess it up? You're wrong. And you know what, I'm starting to wonder if this partnership is really worth it. All we ever do is argue, all the time!" "Chloe, please--" "What, Mickey? Does that hurt your feelings, that I can't work with you because you're so damned stubborn? You seem to think that women have a place only at the home. I've proven that theory incorrect. Agent Scully has proven that theory incorrect. I'm sick of your bullshit! And your temper, that's another thing entirely!" Chloe said. Finally she slammed on the brakes, too angry to drive. The street was dark, almost all of the lamps burnt out. She threw open her door. She knew now that she was over-reacting. The worst part was that she needed to get it out of her system. Needed to yell at someone. She wanted to put all the blame on Mickey. The accident. The death of the young girl. The loss of the button. And yet, none of those things were his fault at all. She stepped out onto the street and turned her face up to the sky, slowly summoning her courage to help control her anger. Surely, as she regained composure, Mickey was at her side, staring at her. "Chloe?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, unsure of what else to do. Suddenly, she began to laugh, as if it were all a drama for his benefit. "I'm sorry, Mickey. I'm just so damned tired. Do you think Sam will be alright, at least for tonight?" "I guess so," he said quietly. His hand was still firmly in place on her shoulder. "Tell me something, Chloe..." She nodded slowly. "Did you mean it? Did you really mean what you said about working with me?" "No," she said, reaching up and patting his cheek. "No. No, I didn't. You've got to understand one thing about me. I seem to be very perceptive when it comes to other people's emotions. It's been a curse of mine since I was a little girl," she paused, moving away and leaning against the car. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. "You see, sometimes when a lot of things have happened and a lot of people are on edge, I get filled with, well, 'angst', for lack of a better word. Especially if I'm as exhausted as I am tonight. I'll get irritable and I end up taking it, irrationally, out on whoever is nearest," she said, sighing again. She felt the car move slightly as he leaned against it beside her. He put his arm around her shoulder, causing her to open her eyes. She turned to look at him. "I understand. Like I said, though, I wish you'd tell me these things sooner. I'm not at all perceptive, as I'm sure you've guessed." "I guessed," she said. He nodded, his arm lingering around her shoulder for a moment longer. "Let's go home. I'll get up early and go to talk to Samantha's foster parents. We'll see if they'll let us take her into protective custody at least until we figure this out," he said, pushing away from the car. As he began to walk away, Chloe suddenly reached out and grasped his wrist. He turned to her and looked in the dim light at her. For a moment, he felt something strange pass between? them, but it passed as she spoke. "You're driving. I can't. I'm too tired," she said, letting go of his hand and walking slowly past him to the passenger side of the car. he thought, looking quickly up at the stars. Mickey was acutely aware of just how close he had come to losing the greatest partner. He knew he'd have to clean up his act and watch what he said. No more speculating out loud, that was for damned sure. ----- Queen's Motel 5:45 AM Fox Mulder awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. Dana Scully had retreated to her own room two hours after they had returned to discuss things. He wished he could wrap his arms around her body, just once more, but knew that it would be a while before that might happen again. Scully was just a little too weary about the whole thing. He ached to have her in his arms but pushed the thoughts aside, afraid that if he dwelt on it for too long, he'd be unable to stop himself from going to her. Another ring brought him back to life. He jumped off the bed and grabbed the cell phone. "Mulder," he said, sleepily. "Fox Mulder?" "Yes." "This is Samantha's foster father, Richard Jessup," the man on the other end sounded upset. His voice cracked as he spoke, obviously worried about something. "How can I help you, sir?" Mulder asked, vaguely wondering where the man had gotten his cell phone number. "Well, one of the other foster homes has been torched. The house is just up the street from us. I went down when I heard the fire trucks. When I got back to tell my wife, Samantha went into hysterics and asked that I call you. I didn't have your number, so I called the FBI and talked to a man named Skinner. This was the number he gave me--" Mulder was no longer listening. He was panicked. If Samantha was in trouble, he needed to help her. "Sir, has she been hurt?" "Who?" "Samantha. Has she been hurt?" Mulder begged. "No, Mr. Mulder. She's fine. But the other foster home has been completely ruined. The fire marshall has determined that everyone got out safe and sound, but Sam's really scared. I think she's afraid we might be next." "Okay, I'll send one of the other agents over to take a look at the fire, as soon as possible." "One more thing, Mr. Mulder..." "Yes?" "Samantha says that you're her brother. I don't know where she got such a crazy idea, but is it true? Are you her brother?" "Sir, my sister disappeared a long time ago. I have reason to believe that under strange circumstances she was returned here, to Orangeburg, with no memories... In short, yes, I believe so," Mulder said, feeling the pangs of the old memories return to him. It felt so good to know that he had finally found his sister. Samantha had been his everything, his entire life. And now that he had Dana Scully too, his life had just gotten better. With the promotion in the FBI, he felt sure that he'd finally be able to rest. His entire life seemed so pointless now. It felt good. "Mr. Mulder, I'm glad I got a hold of you. Samantha was worried about her friends at the foster home and I'm sure she'll feel better now that you and your fellow agents will be on the case. I think she's grown attached to your friends. She mentioned one, Chloe, I think Sam said her name was. Anyway, I'm sorry I had to wake you up for this, but she just wouldn't go back to sleep." "Thank you for calling, sir. And..." "Mr. Mulder?" "Keep an eye on Sam. I can't afford to lose her again." "Always, Mr. Mulder. Goodnight," the man said, and hung up. Mulder pushed the END button on his phone and sat staring into the night for a few moments. Why had someone wanted to torch the foster home? There were only four or five other children living there and surely they weren't all related to the case. They couldn't all have green blood. Green blood. That was something else, Samantha had green blood. Was it alien? Was his sister an alien? Mulder shuddered at the thought. He wanted to scoop Sam up and get her out of this town, away from all the misery and death. She'd already had one friend cut down by this unseen killer and for all he knew, they still weren't any closer to finding out what was going on. Mulder slipped out of his bed and pulled on a robe, quietly opening the door which joined his and Scully's rooms. He had to talk to her. He needed to take Samantha back to Washington as soon as possible. He wanted to be sure the little girl would be safe. He padded silently into her room, hearing the shallow breathing of his best friend. He reached the edge of her bed, then looked down at the sleeping form. She looked beautiful in the soft moonlight that was streaming in from the single window of the room. Her auburn hair cascaded over the pillow, silky and shiny. Mulder reached out, to awake her, but suddenly a new emotion washed over him. He snatched back his hand, as though touching her might burn his flesh. Mulder gasped, quietly then stumbled back a few steps, a realization hitting his stomach like a rock. Dana Scully was in just as much danger as Samantha was, although not the same danger. Fox Mulder realized that even if he managed to get Samantha back to Washington, they would still come after him. If they came after him, they might try to get to him by using Scully. Tears began to stream down his face. He was in total turmoil. He couldn't leave Scully, but he couldn't leave Samantha either. It was evident that he couldn't have both. It would not be an easy choice, but a choice that he was required to make, just the same. Mulder gathered his wits about him and silently left Dana to her sleep, closing the door softly behind him. He did not awake her to tell her that he was leaving. He did not leave a letter explaining where he was going and he did not take his cellular phone with him. His heart broke in two, one half left in that room with the sleeping auburn haired woman, the other floating out to the little girl who had so much of her life left to live. Fox Mulder had decided. Dana could find other men. She would get over him, but Samantha needed his help now. She was his little sister. The first person he had loved. The one he had been searching for. She needed his help and he had made that choice, no matter how much it hurt. ----- September 4, 1995 Queen's Motel 9:23 AM Dana Scully walked around her room, looking for an earring that she must've lost the previous day. So much had been happening that she didn't even realize it was gone. She shook her head, which was sopping wet from the shower she'd just had. The earring was no where to be found and finally Dana gave up. She guessed that it must've fallen off when she and Mulder... Mulder. She hadn't seen him this morning. Pulling the robe tighter around her body, Scully went to the joining door and knocked. He did not answer. She knocked again. "Mulder, it's me. Can I come in?" Again he didn't answer. Afraid that he wasn't awake yet, Dana turned the knob and pushed into the room. She looked around quickly. Mulder was no where to be seen. His clothes were gone and his files were gone. He'd even made his bed. There was nothing left in the room except for the lone cellular phone. Scully's jaw immediately slackened. Her lips began to tremble, along with the rest of her body. She felt as though she were going to fall backwards. She stumbled towards the wall, leaning slowly against it. "Fox Mulder, you asshole," she whispered. She lifted her chin and set her jaw, trying to figure out just what she'd done to him, to make him leave. She'd thought they'd discussed it all last night. She'd thought that he'd understood when she said that she needed time to consider it. She should have told him that she would marry him. She should have made absolutely sure that he knew she wanted to be with him. she tried to tell herself. she thought. She just couldn't accept that. A sharp knock at the door brought her out of her inner turmoil. She stared at the door, not wanting to answer it. With her luck it would be Cavellelo and then she'd be right up the creek with no paddle. "Agent Mulder?"called the definite male voice. "Damn," Scully muttered, and was surprised when the door creaked open. Mickey poked his head around and was stunned discover Scully leaning against the wall. Her face must've betrayed her feelings because he immediately scooted in, closing the door behind him. "Where's Agent Mulder?" he asked, eyeing Scully. The red in her cheeks and the way she was trembling hinted at what had happened. "Do I look like I know?" she snapped, and regretted it almost immediately. "Agent Scully, what's going on?" Mickey asked. ----- End Part Sixteen Bed Springs(4/4)*Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs(4/4) by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Seventeen ----- Richard and Tess Jessup's residence 6:30 am Fox Mulder stood at the door and banged with all his might. After an eternity, Richard Jessup arrived at the door, looking just a little angry, with a shotgun in his right hand. He took in the hyper young man on his doorstep and narrowed his eyes, taking the shotgun into both hands in a defensive gesture. "Mr. Jessup, I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder. . .Samantha's brother," he said hastily, holding up his ID for the older man to see. Mr. Jessup studied it and the face of the young man standing before him, then remembered his conversation with the Assistant Director. He relaxed visibly and then opened the screen door. "Mr. Mulder, I didn't expect you by this early. Come on in, I'll put on some coffee." "No, Mr. Jessup, I don't think I can stay that long. I've come for Samantha. I believe that fire last night was set deliberately and Sam's in danger. I'm taking her under protective custody." He chewed on his lip, hoping the older man wouldn't want to verify any of this with the local authorities. He did have the authority to do what he was about to do, but he didn't want anyone alerted to his whereabouts. Especially Scully. For a moment, Jessup looked like he was going to pick up the phone. Then, he thought better of it and simply nodded. "Let me get Tess up. She'll help Sam gather her things." Mulder let out a breath he had been holding and nodded in return. He watched Jessup go up the stairs and almost collapsed into an arm chair in relief. This was going to work. He would leave the rental car up the road and get another under a different name. Then, he and Sam would get the hell away from the state, the country, the continent, if he had his way. No one, not Cancerman, not the FBI, not the killer would find them. a small voice said and a tiny piece of his heart broke off and fell into his stomach. He closed his eyes for just a minute and let himself remember how wonderful it had felt to hold her in his arms, to know that she loved him. He shook his head angrily. Such thoughts were *very* counterproductive at this point. He should be happy that he had been loved by Dana Scully, that they had any time together. He couldn't be with her again, but the last five years had been enough for a lifetime, he tried to convince himself. It was enough that he had found Samantha. To hope that he could have a 'normal' life, a wife, a home, children, that was all too much. That would never happen and he would have to get accustomed to the idea. Samantha needed him, that's all he needed to know. Rest Inn 7:45 am "He's gone," Mickey said flatly to Chloe as she approached the door. He had been standing in the hall, waiting for her since his phone call. He didn't think he could take looking at Dana Scully's face one more minute--it made his head hurt to see the desolation in her eyes. "Well, where did he go?" Chloe asked evenly. "If we knew that, do you think we'd be sitting it out here at the motel?" he asked crossly, then immediately remembered their 'conversation' of the night before. "I'm sorry, Chloe, I didn't mean that like it sounded. No, we have no idea. He didn't leave a note, and he left his cell phone behind. I called the Jessups' house and he showed up there about 6 am, took Sam and some of her clothes and said he was taking her into protective custody. Then they left. Mr. Jessup has no idea where they went. I didn't want to ask too many questions, I think I was beginning to worry him. I mean, it's not like Mulder is the killer or anything. I think the little girl is safe with him. It's just that, well," he stopped talking and turned to look at Scully, still sitting on the edge of the bed. "She's a basket case," he whispered. "I feel sort of like I'm back in college, right after the big Homecoming Game 'sleep over'," Chloe muttered, and walked past Mickey and into the room. "Dana? Hey, you okay?" Dana looked up, as if just realizing that someone was in the room. "Chloe. Yeah, I'm fine." But her eyes betrayed her and the tears were still wet on her cheeks. "He's such a stupid bastard sometimes, y'know?" "Directly related to testosterone poisoning," Chloe said with a grin. She was relieved to see the grin Dana returned to her. "Now, you were his partner *forever*. What would his next move be?" Interstate 26 9:00 am "Fox?" Samantha had been quiet the entire time, not even speaking when he stopped at the very next town and gotten another rental car. Now, they had been driving for almost an hour and she couldn't keep her silence any longer. "What, Sam?" he asked, surprised to hear her voice. "Are you mad at me?" she asked, a frown furrowed across her brow. He looked like she had slapped him. "No! Of course not. What makes you ask that?" "You seem like you're mad at somebody. I just wanted to make sure you aren't mad at me. I mean, for all the trouble I've caused," she said quietly. he thought. "Sweetheart, you haven't been any trouble. What makes you think that?" he asked gently. "Well, we're running away, aren't we? That's why we got a different car. And you haven't called anybody on your phone, to tell them where we're going. You told Richard that you were putting me under protective custody--I saw that on TV. It means that I'm in danger, right? That's sounds like I'm a *lot* of trouble, if you ask me," she concluded thoughtfully. He groaned inwardly. "Sam, we need to talk. Yes, you are in danger. The man that's been hurting those other kids, well, I have very good reason to believe that he wants to hurt you, too. So, we are leaving. We're going to go someplace very far away, where he can't find you. But I will promise you, you will be safe. And . . ." He hesitated just a moment. "And you'll be with me. I'll take care of you, Sammi. Just like I should have been doing all along." "Where's Dana?" she asked, looking out the window at the scenery passing by. He didn't answer at first. He didn't want to lie to her. "Why do you ask?" She shrugged, still looking out the window. "I figured she'd be with us. You know, since you love her and all. I figured she'd be with you, that we would all be together." She turned and looked at him. "I really like her. And you need somebody to take care of you, Fox. If you're taking care of me, *some* body has to take care of you," she said pointedly. "Dana stayed behind," was all he would say and from the look on his face, she was afraid to ask anything else. Rest Inn Chloe's room 11:30 am "Well, I've called in all the favors I have back in DC. We should have the customer list from every car rental agency in the closest five counties within the hour," Chloe said confidently. "But I was hoping to get over to the scene of the fire." She noticed Dana's raised eyebrow. "Oh, it's not that I don't trust Michael," she hastened to add. "I just feel better if I'm somewhere within fifty feet of him. He as an uncanny ability to piss people off," she said with a rueful shake of her head. "I understand perfectly," Dana replied. She had calmed down considerably once it became obvious that they were going to try and find Mulder. There was no way she was going to let him get by with walking out without a word. She would hunt him down like a dog, but she'd find him. It was only a matter of time. "Chloe, why don't you go on ahead over to the house. I can wait here to get the faxes. If I get a good lead, I'll call you," she said, getting up and ushering the younger agent out the door. "You're sure about this? I mean, if you don't want to be left alone. . ." "Don't be ridiculous. This isn't the first time Mulder has run off and left me high and dry. I'm used to it. Now, run along and keep Mickey out of trouble. We still have a case to solve, somewhere in this whole mess." Chloe nodded and left, hoping that she'd get there in time to head Mickey off from whatever rampage he was most certainly engaged in. The phone rang, and Dana picked it up, expecting it to be the desk clerk, alerting her to the arrival of the faxes. "Chloe," a little girl's voice asked. "No, this is Dana Scully. Chloe's not here right now, can I take a message?" "Oh, Dana! I'm so glad it's you." Suddenly Dana recognized the voice. "Samantha, is that you?" she demanded and then softened. "Sweetheart, aren't you with Fox?" "Yeah, we're at a truck stop for lunch. Dana, why aren't you coming with us?" Dana swallowed. "Well, sweetheart. . ." "I really want you to come with us, Dana. I'm scared. I don't want Fox to get hurt. You two are always together. I'm afraid if you aren't here, he might get hurt. Please come with us, Dana, please, please!" Her voice was shrill and frightened and Dana was afraid she might start to cry. "Where is Fox right now, Samantha? Does he know you're calling me?" "No. He's in the bathroom. I told him I had to go, but I didn't. I wanted to call Chloe to get her to call you, but you answered anyway." "Honey, do you know where he's going? Maybe I can meet you," Dana said, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. "He said something about Chicago. He made reservations in the name of George Hale. We're flying TWA out of Raleigh. Flight 431. It leaves at 4:35 this afternoon. I was sort of listening when he called the airlines," she admitted sheepishly. "Dana, can you come to Raleigh and get on the flight with us? Please?" Dana smiled. This was a small miracle and she was not about to let it slip past her. "Yes, honey. I'll have to hurry, but I'll be there. You just get Fox to stay by the TWA gate and I'll meet you," she instructed. Then the thought hit her that 'Fox' might not be so happy about this turn of events and try to bolt. "Oh, and Sam. Don't tell Fox I'm coming. Let's make it our surprise, okay?" Samantha giggled. "Yeah, just us. Our surprise. I'll see you in Raleigh, Dana." Raleigh-Durham Airport 4:30 pm "Samantha, sit down! You're making me nervous. What are you looking for?" Mulder hissed to his little sister. he smiled to himself. Sam chewed a corner of her lip and stared at her brother. "Nothin'. I'm not looking for anything. Just lookin', okay?" she said testily. Somehow, after they left the truck stop at 1:00, she had relaxed and before long the two were talking and laughing and Mulder realized how much he had missed her. He had always known he missed her, but couldn't put his finger on exactly why it hurt so badly. This afternoon had shown him all the joy they had once shared, and it saddened him a little. It would have been nice to have grown up 'with' his sister. But by some twisted universal logic, he was still getting to 'watch' her grow up, and for that, he would thank whatever entity or entities had finally returned her to him. Sam scanned the crowd, this time checking to make sure Fox had gone back to his NY Times Crossword puzzle before doing so. Then, she saw her. She was going to wave, but there was no need, Dana saw them. She nodded and hurried to them, just before the first boarding call was made. Ignoring her brother, Sam jumped up and ran to Dana. She threw her arms around the agent. "I was afraid you weren't going to make it," she cried and hugged her tighter. "I had to drop off the rental car," Dana explained, breathlessly. She returned the hug for a moment, not really wanting to face the man who had slowly gotten up from his seat and walked over to them. Taking a deep breath, she looked up into his eyes. There she saw what she was hoping to find. He wasn't angry, he was looking at her with all the love she had seen just two nights before. Dana smiled in return, hoping she reflected what she was seeing. Finally, Sam let go of Dana and looked at both of them. "I gotta go to the bathroom," she announced. "I'll take you," Dana said absently, not letting her eyes leave Mulder's. Sam put her hands on her hips in a mock show of defiance. "I'm 9 years old, Dana. I can go to the bathroom all by myself! It's right over there, I'll be right back," and she stomped off in the direction she had pointed. "That must be a genetic trait," Dana said with a sheepish grin. "Stubbornness, defiance, going off on her own. . ." Mulder said nothing, just took a step and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly to him as if his very life depended on it. After a second, he whispered in her ear, "How did you find us?" "Sam called. She seems to think that you need someone to look after you. I managed to fit the qualifications," she murmured in reply. "I couldn't think of a better candidate for the job," he said with a chuckle. The world was nothing more than Dana, in his arms, until he felt a gentle tug on his jacket. "Are we gonna go, or not?" asked Sam, who had returned from the bathroom. She was trying to sound annoyed, but there was a grin on her face. "I'm busy here, butt munch," Mulder said, not releasing Dana from his embrace. Laughing, Dana pushed him away. "We have a decision to make," she said, still smiling. "I can't leave you again, but I have to make sure Sam's safe. Can you catch the next flight, we'll wait at the airport for you," he said seriously. "Not a problem--'butt munch'," she laughed, and held up her ticket for the flight just boarding. "I'm across the aisle from you." Harris Family residence Orangesburg 1:30 pm Chloe was frowning as Mickey approached her. "Still no answer," she said tersely. "Maybe she went back to her room," he suggested. "Called there, no answer." "Maybe she's taking a shower? Or the desk clerk called with the faxes from DC and she's down there," he tried again. "Her hair was wet when I got there this morning and I called the clerk, he hasn't seen her." Chloe was staring off into space, obviously trying to figure out her next move. "Let's go back to the motel and check it out," Mickey sighed with resignation. Chloe smiled at him and reached out to ruffle his hair. "You got potential, Callavelo." He shrugged in reply. "But I'm still driving," she added sternly. "Wouldn't have it any other way," he smiled. Their investigation of the fire had produced no additional leads and Mickey was just as glad to be going back to the motel. He wasn't happy with the possibility that the killer was still in town and their 'assistants' were busy playing soap opera style games with each other, when they should have been 'assisting'. He was even less happy when he and Chloe discovered Dana's bags missing. "Oh, shit!" Chloe cursed. Mickey looked up from his survey of the room to find his partner holding up Dana Scully's cell phone. "Well," he muttered. "At least they're predictable." "Yeah," answered Chloe with a grim chuckle, "they both disappeared without a trace." Disheartened, she sat down on the bed next to the night stand. "Then again. . ." Mickey looked over at his partner, a scowl on his face. She was rubbing a pencil over a small note pad that was sitting next to the phone. "You got something," he asked anxiously. She greeted his remark with a broad smile. "Oh, I think you could say that," she said, reaching for her purse and starting for the door. "Where are we going, now," he grumbled. "Raleigh-Durham airport. And we better hurry, their plane leaves at 4:35 and it's a quarter to 2 now." ----- End Part Seventeen -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Eighteen ----- Mickey reached out and abruptly grabbed Chloe's arm. "Wait just a minute, Chloe," he said, frowning as she stopped and glared unhappily at him. "What?" she hissed, unintentionally. Mickey drew back at the biting word and let go of her arm. He crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes, thoughtfully. "We can't both go, you know. We do have an investigation to take care of here. Remember the case?" he asked. "Well, they've got the only child we can prove has green blood. If something happens to Sam, we'll have lost everything. I think at least one of us should go. . ." "Let me," Mickey said and watched as Chloe's eyes grew wide. "You're offering?" she asked incredulously. "Yes. I know Chicago better than the back of my hand. If I go, at least I'll be able to locate them much faster than you could." "What am I going to do in the meantime?" Chloe asked, wincing at the thought of being left in this town by herself. "Look, why don't you follow up on the missing persons report and see what else you can find out and I'll call you when I can, okay?" Michael suggested and frowned outright. He was not going to enjoy this. "Mickey, I have an odd feeling about this. Something is going on," she said and noticed as he nodded in understanding. She sighed and whispered, "Just be careful okay?" "I will," he said and opened the door. Chloe grabbed his arm this time and leaned close to his ear. "Remember that I'm not there to keep you from pissing anyone off," she warned before letting him go. He flashed her a mischievous smile and breezed out of the room. Once alone, Chloe Grant blew a puff of air out her mouth. She made her way over to Scully's bed and sat gingerly on the corner. She was alone with an investigation that she had absolutely no leads on. With another sigh, she flopped back on the bed intending to get a little rest while she thought about her next move. ----- Raleigh-Durham Airport 4:35 PM Michael Callavelo drew his FBI badge and forced his way to the front of the ticket line. He shoved his badge hurriedly in front of the clerk's nose. "I need a ticket for flight 431, now!" he declared. The clerk smiled at him and opened her mouth. "Don't say you can't give me one. I already know that line. This is a federal emergency and I've got to be on that flight." The clerk jerked her head up and eyed his badge suspiciously before calling over a supervisor. Mickey spent five minutes explaining that he needed to be on the flight and that he didn't have time to argue. They relented and gave him a seat but by then he had to run just to catch the plane. After he had gone, the clerk looked at the supervisor and frowned. "What's with all these federal agents?" "Beats me," the supervisor said with a shrug and turned away. Mickey hadn't bothered to grab his bags on the way to the plane. There wasn't any time. He told the supervisor to have them shipped to the FBI headquarters in Washington and that he'd pick them up there. He would have to make do with the money he had on him, as well as his VISA. He was short of breath by the time he'd boarded the plane. He glanced at his ticket and looked down the row of seats. He immediately spotted Scully in the center section of the plane and beside her to the left were Mulder and Samantha. Sam was sleeping peacefully, her head leaned against Fox Mulder's shoulder. Scully was engrossed in a magazine and Mulder looked lost in space. He started down towards them, coming to a stop before Scully. He loomed over her and smiled when she looked up, startled. "Is this seat taken?" he asked, indicating the seat beside Scully, which miraculously was the seat he'd managed to snag. "Mickey, what are you doing here?" Scully asked, narrowing her eyes at him. "We'll discuss this later," Mickey said as he sat down beside her and buckled his seat belt, preparing for the takeoff. ----- Harris Family residence Orangeburg, South Carolina Chloe Grant frowned as she slipped her sunglasses from her nose. She'd been over the crime scene twice more since Mickey left. She still felt as though they had missed something. The charred ground was only a reminder that they still had no idea what was going on. She wondered if the killer was just toying with them again. She sighed and folded the glasses up, turning towards the entrance of the house. She stared at the remains, black and still smoldering. she wondered for possibly the tenth time. She dropped her eyes to the ground again, her gaze wandering aimlessly around as she tried to think of what to do next. Suddenly something caught the sunlight and seemed to send an SOS to her. She frowned and walked towards the shining in the grass. Bending, she picked up the little button. It was exactly the same in design and size as the one they'd found previously. Chloe whistled. No sooner had she bagged the little button than she heard a strange noise. It sounded like a match being lit. She slowly rose to her feet and turned around, the evidence bag still clutched in her hand. "Find anything?" His voice was gruff and the cigarette bobbed slightly as he formed the words. "Who are you?" Chloe asked suspiciously. She noted his gray overcoat and his salt and pepper colored hair. Her gaze left him and spotted the car that was parked down the street. She swallowed nervously and turned her attention back to the strange man. "That's not important right now," he answered and Chloe narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?" "Where's your partner?" "Questions, questions. I'm not answering anything until you tell me who the hell you are," Chloe said finally, stepping back and putting some distance between herself and the man. She instinctively drew her gun, pointing it at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Agent Grant," the man said as he blew cigarette smoke out his nose. It curled in the air and disappeared leaving Chloe with a feeling of dread in her stomach. Out of nowhere, two more men appeared. Each wore dark sunglasses and a dark overcoat, concealing their identities slightly. Chloe bit her lip and tried to think of what to do. Finally, she slowly lowered the gun and holstered it again. "Okay, let's talk," she said, putting her hands in the air as she noticed that the two men that were on either side of her, held some rather large handguns. "That's it, Chloe, don't put up a fight. It'll be easier on both of us," the man said and Chloe's body tensed at the use of her first name. She was angry that she might be in a situation of bad health and didn't have anyone who could back her up. These thugs could shoot her now and no one would know any different. "How do you know my name?" Chloe asked, not really expecting an answer. "I know all about you, Ms. Grant," he replied, puffing on the cigarette. It bobbed up and down as he spoke and smoke billowed from it. Chloe tried to think if she'd ever seen the man before but her mind was blank. "In fact, I know all about your new friends, too. Mulder and Scully have been acquaintances of mine for years and years now." Chloe's eyebrows raised. She was suspicious but she couldn't think of a way to safely get out of the situation so she pried. "What do you want from me?" she asked. "I want the location of Mulder and Scully," he said, smiling. He walked slowly toward her and frowned when he noticed that she tensed again. It was almost as though she were bracing for a fight or something. "I won't hurt you if you give me their location," he added. "And if I don't?" "I'm in a position to accidentally dispose of you," his answer was to the point and it hit home. Chloe knew this man did not intend to just say "hi" to Scully and Mulder when he found them. She was torn. "What makes you think I know where they are?" "I'm fairly certain," he said and a smirk replaced the tight-lipped smile. "Besides, I have less humane ways of finding out, Mr. Gregg, show her," he said and Chloe turned her attention to one of the men as he drew a long syringe out of his pocket, filled with a light blue liquid. "Oh shit," Chloe whispered. She had already decided to tell him but she felt miserable about it. She still had no guarantee that they wouldn't kill her anyway, but her self preservation was overriding anything else. Besides, at least she might be able to get to Mulder or Scully if she told them and they let her live. "Well? Shall we do this the easy way or the difficult way?" he asked, growing impatient. "What do I get out of this deal?" "A chance to live," he said and his man moved in. He grabbed Chloe's arm and she gasped, staring coldly at the man holding her arm. He held the syringe just above her upper arm, ready to push it right through her shirt and into her arm. It would be painful. "Alright, get him off me!" she cried, struggling to free her arm. "I'll talk! Just get this asshole away from me!" "Okay, let her go." The man let her arm go and backed off. Chloe wasn't sure she was ready to give in so easily now. Her initial fear was gone, replaced by and anger so strong that it pushed her adrenaline level a few notches higher. Unsuspected by any of the three men, Chloe allowed her self defense courses to kick in. She dropped the button and grabbed the man who held the syringe and yanked him towards her, knocking the syringe away as she did so. She twisted his arm behind his back and brought him between herself and the other man who hadn't reacted fast enough with his gun. The cigarette smoking man was shaking his head. "Not a good idea, Chloe," he said. "I just want some assurance that I'll be able to walk away from this," she said calmly, her breath thinning out a bit. She twisted the man's arm a little harder and he grunted in pain. "I already told you we trade Mulder and Scully's whereabouts for your well being," he said, his voice growing angered as he spoke. Chloe had backed herself between a rock and a hard place now. She had no way to escape, even with the hostage. Surely the smoking man would just kill his own man if it meant killing her. She swallowed with difficulty. "I don't believe you," she said for lack of anything else. "You have no choice," the man said and Chloe knew he was right. She would not get out alive now. Perhaps she should have left well enough alone. She released the other man's arm and put her hands in the air. She was surprised her hadn't asked for her gun yet, but as if he had read her thoughts he demanded that she slowly throw it to the ground. Slowly and deliberately, she complied. "I have to admit, Agent Grant, that was impressive," he said. He was smiling again, now that he was back in control. "But you gave up too easily." Chloe didn't speak. She just glared at him and pursed her lips which flattened into a white line as anger swelled inside her. Defeated, again. "I'm sick of games, I want a location," he said. "Chicago," she whispered. "They've gone to Chicago." "Good girl," he said and snapped his fingers. To her surprise, both men began to retreat. The smoking one nodded and held her gun up so she could see it. She watched them bitterly as they headed back to their car. She saw the man drop her gun on the ground outside the sedan and get in. They sped away leaving her to kick herself. She felt as though she should have done more but knew that she couldn't have. At least now she'd have a chance to warn Mulder, Scully and Mickey. She felt her knees go weak and she remembered the button she had found. Looking around for the evidence bag she had dropped, she couldn't see it anywhere. She did see the syringe, however. She slowly walked toward it and picked it up. She pressed the plunger, squeezing a bit of the blue liquid into her palm. She brought her hand to her nose so that she could smell it. It had no odor. She frowned and tasted it. Colored sugar water. "Fuck!" she screamed, hurling the syringe as far away from her as she could. ***** Chicago International Airport Chicago, IL Michael Callavelo smiled down at the little girl who clung to his hand as if it were the last thing in the world. Sam was wearing a huge grin and laughing uncontrollably as Mickey tried to shake her loose. "Come on, Sam, you're cutting off my circulation," Mickey said with a smile. He watched as Scully and Mulder stood a little distance away, looks of curiosity and amusement on their faces. They obviously were content to let Sam try to yank his arm off. People bustled around them, toting luggage, children and various other things that were associated with travel. Mickey sighed deeply and decided to tug Sam along with him to where Scully and Mulder stood watching. He still had yet to explain his unexpected arrival on the plane. Not to mention that he wanted some answers from the two agents. "So," he said as he stopped before them, breathing heavily from the effort of dragging Sam along with him. "What's up with you two anyway?" "Meaning?" Mulder asked, his eyebrows raised. "Meaning, why did you two take off with Sam? Just what are you trying to pull?" he demanded, his voice calm and even. His anger had long since dissipated. Mulder looked at Scully, who in turn flashed a smile at Mickey. "Mickey, there are some things that you and Chloe have yet to learn about," Scully began. She took a deep breath and moved forward to grasp his shoulder. "Now is not the time or place to explain. Let's get Sam to a hotel and feed her, then Mulder and I will try to help you to understand what's going on." "Fine, but we're not letting this go," Mickey said, his eyes narrowing. "No, we're not. You still owe us an explanation as to why you followed us. Not to mention the fact that Chloe isn't with you," Mulder said, and held his hand out for Sam without taking his eyes off Mickey. Sam immediately made a bee line for Mulder, leaving Mickey to flex his fingers to get the blood circulating again. Scully moved her hand down from his shoulder to his forearm and gently tugged him away from Mulder. "Where is Chloe?" she questioned in a hushed tone. "She's back in Orangeburg," Mickey said and frowned. "Why are you whispering?" "I'm not sure yet. I just don't have a good feeling about this. You shouldn't have left her there," Scully said and looked back at Mulder who was finally engrossed in tickling Sam. "I made her stay, we do have a case to investigate, you know." "Look, Mickey, I want you to call her and make sure she's alright, okay?" Scully said, her tone worried. "I was going to anyway, thanks for reminding me." Scully nodded and her eyes held a worried glaze. Mickey knew he was missing something yet again. Something that might be vital. Before he could question her further, Scully had walked away. He stared after her for a few moments, then pulled out his cellular phone, quickly dialing his partner's number. ----- End Part Eighteen -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Nineteen ----- Orangeburg, SC 7:00pm Chloe stood and stared at the road, trying to calm herself down. As her training began to supersede her anger, she remembered the syringe. Hastily, she ran over and picked it up gingerly and deposited it in an evidence bag. At least she had something. It was better than being totally empty handed. She started to search the area for the button again when her cell phone trilled in her pocket. "Grant," she said after punching the phone to receive. "Chloe, it's Mick. Where are you?" She sighed in relief. "Standing in the middle of a burned out shell of a house, where are you?" she returned. "O'Hare International. I just made the plane." "Then you found them," she asked excitedly. "Oh, yeah, I found them. Of course, that doesn't mean I know any more than I did when I hadn't found them," he grumbled. "We're gonna find a place to stay and get Sam some dinner. Then, these two are in for a good old fashioned 'grilling'--Chicago PD style! My old man taught me a few tricks. . ." "Mickey, wait! Don't go to a hotel. Oh, shit," Chloe said, her mind working at warp speed. "Why not?" Mickey interrupted, and Chloe could almost see the frown chiseled on his forehead as he spoke. she thought to herself. "Mickey, I just had a visitor. . ." "Chloe," he whined. "Don't tell me this. . ." "Mick, get a grip! Now, listen to me. I was out here at the Harris place. I found another one of those button things we found at the car crash. Then, all of a sudden, this old guy was standing next to me. I swear, I've never seen him before in my life. But he had these two thugs with him. He *knew* me, Mick! He knew my name. And he knows Mulder and Dana. Said he was 'old acquaintences' with them or something lame like that." "So? Maybe he's with the local field office," Mickey suggested, still wondering what had his usually calm partner so rattled. At least she had always seemed calm, so far. . . "Mickey, LISTEN TO ME! This guy was NOT FBI! He was, I don't know, he seemed. . .this is gonna sound nuts. Mickey, I just didn't like this guy. He seemed evil or something. . ." she let out a frustrated puff of breath. "*Evil*? Chloe, don't go getting metaphysical on me," Mickey moaned into the phone. By this time Mulder had noticed the concerned expression on Mickey's face and had come over. "Is there a problem?" he asked quietly. Mickey put his hand over the phone. "Yeah, I got stuck with a woman partner," he hissed in a whisper, then turned back to the phone. "Chloe, did this guy give you a name?" Mulder's eyes went wide. "What 'guy', Callavelo?" he demanded. Mickey looked up at the older agent and shrugged. "Some guy Chloe met. Old dude, had two 'thugs' with him. Chloe's scared, for some reason. . ." "Was he smoking a cigarette?" Mulder asked excitedly. Mickey looked at Mulder in confusion. "Hey, Chloe, Mulder want's to know if this guy was smoking?" He waited for the answer then nodded 'yes' to Mulder. "Damn it!" Mulder cried angrily. "Give me the phone." He took the phone out of Mickey's hand. "Grant, tell me everything that happened. Don't leave out a thing, hear me?" Dana and Sam were coming back from a newsstand area when they saw Mulder and Mickey. From the grim expression on Mulder's face, Dana knew immediately there was trouble. "Sammi, sweetheart, you read your magazine for a minute, I need to talk to Fox," she said calmly, handing Sammi her 'American Girl' magazine. Sam nodded and found a seat in the nearby boarding area. Dana met the two men a few feet away. "Now what?" "I knew this would happen," Mulder hissed. "Look, apparently our 'smoking friend' is interested in our whereabouts," he said, trying to keep his voice down so that Samantha would not become alarmed. "Oh, no," Dana moaned. "Yes, and our good friend Agent Grant told him we were in Chicago," he added angrily. Seeing Dana's disbelief, he quickly added, "I didn't mean that as it sounded. It wasn't really Chloe's fault. He had *associates* with him, three against one are not favorable odds. But he knows we're here. So we have to leave." "And go where?" Dana demanded. "Mulder, we have an 8 year old little girl with us! We can't go running off all over the country. Now, let's think a minute. . ." "We don't HAVE a minute," Mulder exclaimed. "I knew this would only get complicated. . ." "Wait a minute," Mickey intervened. "Look, if it's a safe place you want, I know just where to find it. This is MY city, remember," he added with upraised brows. "Trust me," he said when they hadn't answered immediately. The two older agents regarded each other. Finally, Mulder's glare was replaced with a slightly lopsided halfhearted attempt at a grin. "Sure, fine, whatever," he said to Scully, who promptly cuffed him in the shoulder. "Let me get Sam. Mickey, lead the way," she said. Loyola University, Lakeshore Campus Sheridan Road Chicago, Illinois The taxi pulled up to a yellow sandstone building that had all the looks of being abandoned. Mickey tossed the driver a twenty and smiled. "You never saw us, right?" "Saw who?" the driver replied with a heavy accent. "No se hable," he added with a grin. Mickey led the trio up to the steps of the building. "I, uh, well, I told them you were a family. It just made it easier to explain, okay?" he said sheeplishly to Mulder. Mulder looked over to Dana, who shrugged her shoulders. "That works," Mulder whispered. The door to the building opened before Mickey had a chance to knock. A small elderly man, somewhere between 60 and 80, with graying hair fringing a bald dome, immediately took Mickey in a bear hug. "Michael! It's so good to see you, lad," the old man said as he pulled back. "So, the big FBI agent comes home, huh? Well, come on in." "Thanks, Father Dan. It's good to see you again, too," he smiled with affection. "Father Dan Daly, this is Fox and Dana Mulder and Samantha. They're the ones I told you about on the phone." They shook hands. "Anything to help the government," Father Dan smiled and Mulder shot Mickey a confused look. "Now, Dan, remember. Mum's the word. We take the Witness Protection Program very seriously," Mickey said, more for Mulder's benefit than the old priest. "Yes, yes, of course. Just like the old days, providing sanctuary. Anyway, I had Mrs. Mulligan come in and tidy up a bit, clean sheets, fresh towels. We still use it for retreats. The University is talking about putting offices in this building, but the rehab might be too costly. Besides, I always hold out hope that we'll be needing it someday. Maybe you'll change your mind again, hey, Michael? You know you'd make a better priest than a cop," the old priest smiled. Mickey gave him an indulgent smile. "Don't hold your breath, Dan. But thanks for going to all this trouble. I owe you a big one." Father Daly handed him the keys. "Well, I better get going. I'm doing penance service at St. Gert's up the street. Father Heeley's in the hospital again. If you have the time you might stop in. St. Joseph's, you know, just up the road." He smiled when Mickey nodded in compliance. "Oh, there's food in the pantry, if you're hungry. Please make yourselves at home." He reached out and touched Sam on the head. "Good night to you, Miss Mulder. I bet you're tired after your long trip." Sam nodded and yawned. "God bless you," he added to Dana and Mulder and left. "Witness Protection Program?" Mulder asked after he was sure that Father Daly was gone. "Hey, I had to think fast. Besides, Jesuits know all about sanctuary. You're safer here than anywhere on Earth. It's not exactly the Ritz Carlton, but it's clean and well protected. No TV, though. Sorry, it used to be part of the Seminary, until everything was moved to Detroit. There used to be a great library, though, on the second floor." He picked up their meager luggage and started up the stairs. At the first landing, Sam started to wilt. Mulder reached over and scooped the little girl into his arms, carrying her up the next two flights. Mickey opened the first door in the hallway and ushered them in. The rooms are commonly known as cells and for good reason. White walls were adored with only a single plain wooden cruxifix. One small window looked out over Lake Michigan, and was darkening quickly with the setting sun. The single bed was against one wall with a nightstand and small lamp beside it. A small dresser stood opposite. "The bathroom is at the end of the hall," Mickey whispered as Mulder laid Sam down on the bed and Dana pulled the covers up over the sleeping child. Without thinking, Dana brushed the hair off her forehead and gave the little girl a kiss. When she stood up, she saw her partner's eyes shining at her through unshed tears. She reached over and squeezed his hand. The gesture wasn't lost on Mickey and he cleared his throat. "You two are right next door." He led the way and opened another cell. This time, two mattresses had been hastily laid out on the floor. Towels were laid on the dresser. "Good, Mrs. Mulligan fixed it up," Mickey said, his eyes refusing to meet the other two agents. "You two are here, I'm just across the hall. Well, down a ways. These walls are pretty thick. Can't hear much," he rambled, self consciously. "Thank you, Mickey," Dana said with a kind smile. "It will do nicely." He smiled back at her. "Good. Well, I'll be turning in. Oh, if you get hungry, the kitchen's on the first floor. Just off the stairs to the right. It's usually well stocked. I'll see you in the morning," he said and quickly exited, closing the door behind him. "He knows about us," Mulder said flatly. "I'd worry about our recruiting standards if he hadn't figured it out by now," Dana replied and started to pull off her coat. "Do you think it's safe?" "Hey, you're the Catholic. I know nothing of the Jesuits. But I don't think we have anything to worry about tonight. I'm not planning on sleeping much, if that's what you mean." He took off his coat and jacket and sat on the floor, his back against the wall. Dana stood above him, watching him. "You're mad, aren't you?" she asked evenly, trying not to turn this into a fight. He looked up at her, silent. Then he dropped his gaze. "I'm not mad at you. I'm glad you're here. I couldn't live without you. I realized that about 5 minutes out of Orangeburg. But dammit, Dana, it just makes it so complicated. I think we're better off just leaving the country, getting the hell away from here, from them." She walked over and sat down in front of him on the floor. "Well, I'm glad you aren't mad, Mulder. Because I'm mad enough for both of us!" His head popped up and he stared, shocked, into her icy blue eyes. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" she demanded, keeping her voice to a low hiss. "I can't believe you, Mulder. I figured once you found Sam all these 'little road trips' would stop. But no, you decide to run off without me, *again*, and I have to play Columbo to find you! Well, I'm sick of it! And if you think you're gonna pull stunts like this after the wedding. . ." He put his hand on her shoulder, which was shaking. "What did you just say?" he asked quietly, not really trusting either his voice or her answer. "I *said* that if you pull a stunt like this *after* the wedding," she seethed. His raised hand cut off her tirade. "That's what I thought you said. Then you're really going to marry me?" he asked, sheepishly. Her face softened. "Yes, Fox, I'm going to marry you. Somebody has to, you need a keeper! And I'm already trained in the job. But we are going to get a few things straight. You are NOT running off without me. Ever. Is that understood?" She smiled as he nodded meekly. "And you have to realize that just because I don't jump every time you snap your fingers does not mean I reject *you*! If you didn't want to marry a skeptic, you shouldn't have asked me in the first place." That comment merited a brief smile. "And I don't want to leave the country. It's no way to grow up. You don't really want to do that to Sam, or to *our* children, either, now do you?" He was still for a moment, the slowly shook his head no. "But I can't lose her again, Scully," he moaned. "Neither can I. And we won't. We just need a plan, Mulder," she said. "We're smarter than they are. We can do this. I may not blindly believe in all your theories, but I *do* believe in _us_!" "I knew there was a reason I loved you," he murmured and pulled her into his arms. ----- End Part Nineteen -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Twenty ----- Orangburg, South Carolina Chloe Grant scanned the ground for the button again, but it was gone. It should have stood out because of the evidence bag. Cancer Man, as Mulder had called him, must've taken it. Chloe was surprised to learn that she'd just waltzed her way out of a situation with a *very* powerful man. Mulder hadn't mentioned much about the man, however, Chloe could just tell from the tone of Mulder's voice. Her shoulders drooped with defeat and her stomach felt extremely empty. She hadn't eaten much food in the last couple of days and she was beginning to feel the effects. She put her sunglasses back on and slowly walked to where they had dropped her gun. Retrieving it, she sighed and returned to her rented sedan, getting in and locking all the doors. "Since when have you become so paranoid?" she asked herself. She immediately pushed that thought out of her head, unwilling to admit that she was scared of the men she'd just had a close encounter with. she thought, pushing a hand through her hair. She hated being alone now more than ever. She should have made Mickey let her go with him. She decided that she would have to go and get a quick lunch and maybe figure out some things from there. Suddenly, a knock on the window startled her. Chloe jumped and immediately grabbed her gun. She pointed it at the window and saw the reaction of the person there. He immediately stepped back and drew his own gun. "Shit," Chloe mumbled, lowering her own weapon and slowly opening the window. "Hands where I kin see them!" the Police Officer yelled. Chloe couldn't help it-- she laughed. "HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! NOW!" "I'm sorry, Officer," Chloe said. "You startled me." She held up her badge and gave him a weak smile. "What'n the hell are ya doing here?" he asked, slowly returning his gun to its holster. "I'm here investigating the murders of those children," Chloe explained, slowly opening door of the sedan so she could get out. "Well, uh, I'm sorry to bother you, but you're parked in a no parking zone," he said, pointing at the fire hydrant that was hidden behind her car. Chloe followed his finger with her eyes and nodded. It was a moment before she turned back to him and said, "I'm sorry, officer. I'll move right now." "You sure gave me a heart attack," he said. "Sorry. I was lost in thought and I just haven't been having the best day. Did you want to add to it and slap me with a ticket?" she asked, joking slightly. She needed something to lighten her mood but she was just too tired and worried to give her words the humor they required. "Uh, no. I think, judgin' by the looks o' you, that you been through enough," he said and Chloe remembered the bruises and cuts and broken finger that the car accident had left. She blushed and shrugged. "I wonder if you could tell me something, though?" Chloe asked and the officer's eyebrow raised slightly. "Yeah?" Chloe reached into the car and pulled out the missing children's report. She had already cross referenced some of the names and found similarities between those children that had shown up in Orangeburg. She glanced quickly at the names. She frowned and said, "Could you tell me where Joanne Jenkins lives?" "Joanne Jenkins? Yeah, she'd be the little'un that moved here just a few weeks ago. She's living with Mark and Dee Marling, down on Jardin street. Does that help ya?" he asked, smiling. Chloe nodded and thanked him. She apologized again for scaring him and climbed into her car. He waited until she had driven away before he returned to his car and sped away himself. ----- Marling Residence Jardin Street The doorbell rang for the sixth time and Mark Marling decided he couldn't ignore it any longer. He patted his wife on the shoulder and handed her another tissue. "Honey, I've got to get that," he said, giving her a sorrowful glance. She nodded and continued to sniffle and wipe away her tears. Before he left he squeezed her hand and said, "It'll be alright." The person stopped ringing the doorbell and resorted to banging on the door. Mark felt his temper growing short and he swallowed hard before he glanced out the window. There was a tall blond woman standing outside the door. Her azure blue eyes immediately snapped up and locked with his as he appeared in the window. Before he knew it, there was an FBI badge plastered to the window so that he could clearly make out her name: Chloe Grant. Mark immediately drew a curtain over his emotions, forcing his face to be a mask of stone. He opened the door and stepped back so that he could clearly observe of the woman. She looked miserable, tired and very sore. Her face had a few fading bruises he noted, remembering that there had been two FBI agents in a car accident earlier that week. He noticed, as she put her badge in the pocket of her coat, that her baby finger was splinted and bandaged. He frowned then, swallowing with difficulty. "Hello, Mr. Marling? I'm Chloe Grant from the FBI," she said, a weak smile on her face. "Sir, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Joanne Jenkins." He felt his heart sink as he nodded. He bit his bottom lip and, struggle as he might, he couldn't keep a straight face any longer. He allowed the emotion to rush back and he knew his face suddenly changed from that of a hard, glaring man to a broken and pained one. "Sir?" she asked, prompted by the change in his demeanor. "I'm sorry, won't you come in?" he said absently, stepping aside. "Thank you," she said as she stepped gracefully through the door. She stood off to the side, a little agitatedly. She glanced toward the road where she had parked her car and her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the interior of the house. "What can I help you with?" he asked, hoping that his wife wouldn't realize that the FBI was here and rehash a fresh bout of tears. "Sir, is there any possibility I could speak with Joanne?" Chloe asked. He found himself allowing his shoulders to hunch forward. No sense denying it. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said so quietly that he was afraid she wouldn't hear. "Sir?" she probed, her eyes narrowing. "Ms. Grant, let me explain something to you--" "Mark, who is it..." his wife appeared around the corner and her voice trailed off when she saw the tall woman. "Oh, hello," she said then fell silent. "Honey, this is Chloe Grant. She's with the FBI," he explained and his wife's red eyes widened. The puffiness of them immediately gave Chloe a clue that something was wrong. "Oh." "Hello, ma'am," Chloe said, inclining her head toward the woman. "Dee, I'd like to talk to Agent Grant for a few minutes. I'll be back in, OK?" he said. His wife didn't say a word but simply nodded. He smiled faintly and took hold of Chloe's arm, pulling her out of the house. "I'm sorry about that, Ms. Grant," he said. "It's all right. Now, what were you saying?" Chloe asked and he nodded sadly. "I was just about to explain something to you," he paused and drew a deep breath. "Joanne Jenkins was adopted and removed from our foster care earlier this morning. My wife is extremely upset about it because we loved little Joanne like our own daughter, even though she's only been here for a few weeks." He watched as the agent's face immediately blanched. She pursed her lips and looked as though she wanted to punch the nearest thing and break the rest of her hand. She bit her lip in thought and soon the color returned to her cheeks but it was the ugly shade of anger. "Agent Grant?" he asked. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry to hear that. I think you've just answered all my questions with that one explanation. Thank you," she said. She stuck out her hand dutifully. He grasped it, puzzled by her reaction. Her handshake was firm and admirable. Mark Marling frowned and said, "Is something wrong?" "Uhm, no. Thanks again for your time," she said and before he knew it, she had dug a pair of sunglasses out of her pocket, slipped them on her nose and begun to walk toward her car. He never did figure out why she was wearing sunglasses when it was nearly dark. ----- September 5, 1995 Chicago, Illinois 7:00 am Mickey Callavelo heard the light knock on his door, just as he was about to try to knot his tie. He was going to have to make due do with same suit he'd worn the day before and he didn't feel very clean or comfortable despite the shower he'd had. The knock came again and Mickey shrugged, abandoning his tie on the bed. He yanked the door open and had to look down at the little girl that stood there. He smiled. "Sammi, good morning," he said. "What's up, kiddo?" "Good morning, Mickey. Fox and Dana aren't awake yet and I thought maybe you'd like to eat breakfast with me," she said, immediately reaching for his hand. He laughed as she grasped it with all her might. "Sure, I'd love to... Do you cook?" he asked, grinning. He hadn't expected the positive answer she gave. "Yep! Bacon and eggs and French toast and omelets and... Well," she giggled. "You get the idea." "At your age?" Mickey asked, incredulously. "Yes, sir!" Sam answered, her hand raising to her temple to salute him. "I love cooking, but I usually wasn't allowed until someone was watching me." "That's amazing, kiddo," Mickey said. "Well, let me show you to the kitchen, my little wonder." He smiled down to her and led her to the kitchen. Inside the large room, large because it had once been used to feed a lot of people, Mickey discovered that Samantha really was a wonder for her age. She walked around the kitchen slowly getting to know where everything was. She inspected the fridge and pulled out some milk, eggs and margarine. She smiled radiantly when she turned toward him. "Care to place your order, sir?" she asked using a childish imitation of a restaurant waiter, a French accent slurring the words. He was about to answer when he heard a rustling at the door. He almost laughed when he saw a very tired looking Dana Scully appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. She smiled as she became aware of his intense gaze. "Good morning," she said, sheepishly. "Mornin'," Mickey answered and turned back to Sam. He didn't feel like figuring out why Scully looked like she hadn't slept a wink. "Sammi was about to make me breakfast," he said and Samantha nodded vigorously. "Dana, can I get something for you too?" Sam asked and Scully shook her head. "Honey, I'll make us breakfast." She shot Mickey a look of mock horror. "Mickey shouldn't have asked you to make breakfast," Scully said and smiled. Sam was quick to jump to his defense. "He didn't ask! I offered," she said proudly. Scully backed off and held up both hands in defense. "My mistake!" she cried, laughing. She yawned and dropped herself into a chair at the same table where Mickey, too, had recently sat. A new shadow crossed the floor and Sam giggled as Fox Mulder entered the kitchen, his hair standing on end. "What?" he asked, throwing up his arms. "Your hair, Fox! Your hair!" Sam cried as she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. "Good morning to you too, Sammi," Mulder said as he ruffled her hair so that it resembled his own. She giggled and returned to the counter where she had set out the food articles. "OK, what're we having?" Sam asked, assuming authority over the breakfast scene again. "Toast and OJ sounds good to me," Scully said, leaning back in her chair and smiling at Mulder, who winked from where he now stood behind Mickey. "One order of toast. Anyone else for toast?" "Two," Mulder said. "Make it three," Mickey added, shrugging. "Might as well go simple." "Anything else?" No one said anything and Sam frowned. She returned the eggs to the refrigerator and busied herself with toasting the bread that she had found in a bread box at the other end of the kitchen. Scully got up to offer to help Sam, but the little girl was determined to make the adults breakfast on her own. She shooed the older woman away and giggled when Mulder said she was just as stubborn as he remembered. For her, it didn't have the same meaning as it did for him. Mulder bit back the tears that threatened to slide down his face and smiled when Scully caught and held his gaze. Sam produced some slightly burnt pieces of toast with a slight pout but when everyone said it was magnificent and delicious, she held her head up high and explained that someday she'd make an excellent chef. No one complained. They ate in relative silence, Mulder and Scully contemplating what their next step would be and Mickey worrying endlessly about his partner. ----- Orangeburg, South Carolina Rest Inn 6:15 am Chloe Grant jerked awake, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. She'd been plagued by men in black trench coats who seemed to appear around ever corner she turned in her dream. She wiped vigorously at her brow, refusing to succumb to the darkness that threatened to cover her heart and make her day miserable. She hadn't eaten anything the night before, despite her better judgment. She'd lost her appetite after discovering that all of the foster children in Orangeburg had been adopted and transferred out of the small town within a few hours. She couldn't believe the speed at which they had removed the evidence of wrongdoing from the place. ----- Orangeburg Police Station 9:30 am After some quick calls to the South Carolina Department of Social Services, Chloe had another piece of the puzzle. Unfortunately, the puzzle was becoming harder to put together with each new piece. The woman in charge of the foster program had no information on who had adopted all of the remaining foster children. Apparently, the adoptions were with a private agency, but when Chloe called the number, it was disconnected. She slammed the phone down angrily. "Honey chile, when was the last time you et sumptin," a gentle voice drawled from the doorway. It was Chief Russell's Aunt Rosy, looking at Chloe with a grandmother's concern. Chloe smiled wryly. "It's been a while," she admitted. "Then you git yourself across that street and git some breakfast!" Aunt Rosy demanded. "Lars a mercy, you think you kin keep going on an empty stomach? Must be a city girl, that's all I kin say. City girls, with those skin tight underdrawers, always trying to git skinnier and skinner till you cain't see 'em when they stand sideways. Ain't no man wanting to hug no skin an' bones, honey. That nice lookin' fella you were with, that I-talian boy, he gonna want some 'meat' to cuddle with! Now, GIT! Tell Sally you want the 'blue plate', and that Aunt Rosy said to not spare the butter on the toast, either," she added with a wink. Chloe had to bite back a laugh at the thought of Mickey and 'cuddling', but at that moment her stomach growled loudly, so she decided to take Aunt Rosy up on her advice. With a returning wink, she grabbed her coat and headed out the door. She was a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what was going on, and better yet, how she was going to tell Mickey that every single child had now disappeared into thin air, when she glanced down the alley, next to the diner. The cook and a dishwasher were standing outside the back door of the establishment, smoking. That wasn't so unusal, but what caught Chloe's eye was the coat the dishwasher was wearing. She recognized it as a Navy pea coat, the kind worn on ships at sea and sold in military surplus stores. The buttons on the coat were different than others she had seen. Her father had owned a pea coat, and the buttons were flat pieces of plastic with an anchor imprinted on them. The buttons on this man's coat were raised and had gold on them. Just like. . . Chloe almost screamed out loud when she realized what she was seeing. As Chloe made the connection in her mind, the dishwasher looked up. Their eyes met across the15 or so yards that separated them. Then the dishwasher's eyes grew wide and he shoved the cook in front of him and took off down the alley in the opposite direction from the street. Chloe was quick to follow in pursuit. "Federal Agent! Stop where you are!" Chloe yelled after the man, but that just seemed to spur him to greater speeds. He turned the corner at the end of the alley and headed down the intersecting street. They were now in the 'industrial park', so named because of the recently built one story metal warehouses and 'self storage' units in the area. The dishwasher ducked between two of the buildings, with Chloe hot on his trail. Chloe skidded to a stop, breathing heavily. The dishwasher had disappeared, or so it seemed. Using every ounce of strength, she willed herself into silence. It was like the training grounds at Quantico all over again. She was good at this, she had the training and the talent. She was not going to let this guy get away. Slowly, she searched the ground. Not many footsteps, it was a dirt and gravel area. Off to her left, she could just pick up a faint trail, the balls of the foot coming down much harder than the heel, the kind of tracks someone made when running. She smiled to herself and quietly moved in that direction. At the edge of the building she was walking beside, she came up short. There was no sense in letting herself be ambushed. She flattened up against the building and slid toward the corner, her gun drawn, safety off. The man she was pursuing had very probably killed several children, six they knew of. This was no time to take unnecessary chances. In a flash, she popped from around the building, in a shooter's stance. Nothing. The alley between the two storage units was about fifteen feet wide, the buildings about 100 feet long. There were three dumpsters littering the way. Chloe mused and started slowly down the alley. She approached the first dumpster and took a deep breath, throwing off the lid and pointing the gun barrel into the interior. Empty, save for a few small bags of shredded paper. She swallowed and allowed herself to breathe again. she reminded herself. As she approached the second dumpster, she heard a scraping sound behind her. She twisted to the side, just avoiding the metal pipe the dishwasher swung at her head. Struggling to keep her balance, she kicked out, hitting his arm with her foot. He tried to grab it, but she was faster. Still she had not been able to dislodge the pipe from his grip. He swung again and this time made contact with her right thigh. She dropped to the ground with the impact. The dishwasher didn't waste anytime and quick as a wink had the pipe raised above him, ready to strike right at her head. Chloe brought her gun up and fired. It was point blank range and she was positive that she could not have missed. Still the dishwasher made good on his follow through. It was only her own quick move to the right that caused the pipe to hit her left shoulder, just missing her head. She heard the pipe hit her collarbone with a sickening crack. Again she fired and this time she didn't stop until she had spent all the bullets. The impact sent the dishwasher back five feet and finally he collapsed on the ground. Chloe laid back on the ground, flat on her back, and sobbed. Loyola University Lakeshore Campus Sheridan Road, Chicago 10:35 am "That was great, kiddo," Mickey complimented Samantha again. "You are gonna make somebody a great little wife," he added and then looked over to see Dana's scowl. "OR. . .you might just make great toast for yourself," she said in a defiant tone, giving Mickey a stern dressing down with her eyes. ". . .or that," he said meekly. He glanced at his watch. "I think I'll go see if Chloe has come up with anything," he muttered and hastily beat a retreat from the room. Dana had the good manners to wait until he was out of earshot to laugh. "What's so funny?" Mulder asked, carrying an armload of books from the library. "Mickey," Sam said cheerfully and giggled all the more at the confused look her brother had on his face. "No, sweetie, I'd say it was 'men in general' that are so funny," Dana whispered conspiratorially to the little girl. She was rewarded with an nod and a hug. Dana returned the hug, then looked over to her partner. "What did you find?" she asked. He had taken off for the library just after breakfast and she hadn't seen him since. If he hadn't shown up, she was going to go looking for him. "Oh, not much. Just this and that. For a seminary library, they have some pretty eclectic tastes," he told her. This didn't seem to surprise her. "They're Jesuits. Eclectic is their middle name," she replied. "But what did you hope to find?" "Oh, some history books, a couple of atlases. . ." he let his voice trail off as he searched the room to see where Samantha was. He saw her in a corner of the sitting room, reading her magazine from the flight. "A book on abductions. . ." he added in a whisper. "You mean one that you haven't either read, edited or acted as a technical advisor on?" she retorted with a scowl. He merely rolled his eyes at her. "I want to lay out a plan. First, we can't stay here forever. Especially if Cancer Man is after us. Second, Sam has no memory of her abduction and not a lot of memories of our childhood. I get the feeling she thinks she's only been gone a little while. She has no idea that she's been missing for 25 years and that she should be over 30 years old by now. We're going to have to help her face that." He sighed and leaned back into the big overstuffed chair he was sitting on. "And I have to figure out what, if anything, I'm going to say to Mom." "Fox, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but the possibility of a clone. . ." Dana said quietly. She didn't look at him directly, afraid of what she might see. He surprised her. "I've thought of that, too. But I rejected it as a theory. I think whoever took these kids, Sam included, in the first place, finally brought them home. And I think who ever in our government had knowledge of these abductions figured out that these kids were a liability that they couldn't afford. I'm sure she's Sam, Scully. It feels different than last time. This time, it just feels real." Dana reached over and took his hand. "Then I hope you're right," she said softly and leaned over to give him a kiss. The kiss would have ended much later if Mickey hadn't taken that opportunity to burst into the room. "I have to get back to South Carolina," he said breathlessly. "Chloe's in the hospital." "OK, Mickey, now slow down," Dana pleaded as the younger agent paced in front of the window, watching for the airport taxi he had called. "What, exactly, did Chief Russell say?" "It was the dishwasher at the diner across from the police station. The guy has been under our noses all the time and we never saw it! Damn it all to hell!" he shouted, then made every effort to calm himself. "I'm sorry, Dana. I'm just. . ." Dana put a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about it. What did the Chief say, was Chloe shot, what happened?" "Something about her leg and her shoulder. I really couldn't get much out of him and apparently the doctors didn't want her talking. Or maybe she couldn't talk, I don't know," he whined. "Where the fucking hell is that damn cab!" he hissed and looked like he was going to start punching out the old oak door. "Agent Callavelo," came a stern male voice behind him. "Scully, give us a moment," Mulder added to his partner. She nodded and left the room. "I shouldn't have left her. Damn it all, I shouldn't have left her!" Mickey moaned and leaned against the door, almost allowing himself to slide down its length. Mulder walked over to put both hands on the younger man's shoulders. "Mickey, you have to calm down," he said gently. "This isn't going to get you there any faster. And it sure won't help Chloe when you get there. Come here a minute." He motioned for Mickey to sit down on one of the foyer chairs. For a split second, Mickey looked ready to bolt. Then, with a dejected shrug, he obeyed. "Is Chloe your first partner?" Mulder asked, his voice taking on a softer edge. "The first one that isn't 10 years my senior," Mickey admitted. "And the first . . . well, she _is_ a woman," he added pointedly. Mulder thought better of the smile he was about to reveal and nodded seriously. "So I noticed," he agreed. "I mean, I should have been there," Mickey wailed again. "Chief Russell says she went after this bozo without any back up, just by herself! Somebody reported hearing shots being fired and a squad car showed up to find her and the perp. He's dead, by the way. She was out of it and they called an ambulance. She could have gotten *killed*, Mulder. How would you feel if. . ." he stopped before finishing the thought. From the look in the other agent's eyes, he knew _exactly_ how it felt. He swallowed and closed his eyes. "Does it get _any_ easier?" he moaned. Mulder sighed heavily. "No," he said, shaking his head. "As a matter of fact, it only gets worse," he admitted. They both looked up at the sound of the taxi's horn. "Just be there for her now. Sometimes our jobs are to help pick up the pieces," Mulder said and patted Mickey on the back as he hurried out the door. In the doorway, out of sight, Dana wiped a tear from her cheek. "Ain't it the truth," she muttered to herself. ----- End Part Twenty -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Twenty-One ----- Orangeburg, SC 5:15 pm Someone had a firm grip on her hand. She stirred into a state of semi-sleep and something triggered the memory. The pipe. The gleaming metal pipe that seemed to loom in her mind. She cringed and fought to remove her hand from the steel grip. She thrashed around, pain searing her flesh. "Chloe--" The voice drifted toward her, penetrating through the horror she felt at the warm touch of whoever was holding her down. "Chloe, wake up!" She recognized the voice. She fought to get control of herself and in the process she became fully awake. She opened her eyes to see a familiar face looming before her. "Mickey?" she whispered, her voice harsh and untrusting. "Chloe," he said and a brilliant smile crossed his handsome face. She didn't think she'd been so glad to see him in her entire life. She glanced away from his welcome visage and discovered the white washed walls of the room that surrounded her. She licked her parched lips and shifted her position which only brought more pain. "Ugh!" she cried. "Just lay still," Mickey said, pushing the matted hair off her forehead. She winced and nodded. "The dishwasher...?" "Is dead," Mickey said. "You sure did a number on the guy, Chloe." "Dead? How many bullets?" "The whole clip." "The *whole* clip?" Chloe asked, her eyes widening. Mickey nodded. Chloe bit her lip and tried to sit up. The pain was severe but not unbearable and she was able to make it to a sitting position. "He got me," she whispered. "Yes, he did," Mickey said. "We're talking in circles," Chloe observed. "Got any tea?" "Ginseng," Mickey said, producing a single cup tea bag from his pocket. "I knew you were going to ask for it." Chloe smiled and accepted the packet. "Wait here, I'll get some water for you," Mickey said, jumping out of his chair and dashing out the door before she could object. A few minutes later he reappeared with a white Styrofoam cup filled with steaming water. He took the packet back and dropped it into the cup, allowing it to soak. "If I take you home, can I keep you as my personal nurse?" Chloe asked. Mickey just cocked his head to the side and laughed. "Okay, seriously now, the dishwasher was the one." "Yes, and you went after him by yourself. Which reminds me, I'm supposed to be mad at you," Mickey said and his eyes narrowed in mock anger. "Promise me you won't do that again." "Mickey--" "Promise it, Chloe. If we're going to be partners, you've got to promise me that." "Michael, I..." she paused, searching for the words. "I promise, Chloe, say it," Mickey said and this time his voice held conviction. "Okay, I promise," she said dejectedly. "Good," Mickey grinned and sat back down in the chair beside her bed. "The doctor said your collar bone is broken and your leg is fractured. That dishwasher really got you and you're going to have a rough time recovering. This case is considered closed--" Mickey would have continued but Chloe held up a hand to silence him. "Mick, the children... Something is going on, they've all been adopted." "It's not our problem now, Chloe. Let's just get our asses back to Washington and get on with it," Mickey said, shrugging his shoulders. "Where are Mulder and Scully?" "In Chicago," Mickey said, then thought for a moment. "They've got Sam and are hiding at the University. I left them there..." "We have to go to Chicago," Chloe said. "You, my friend, are going home to recoup. Understand?" "Michael--" Chloe began to argue. "You can't walk, Chloe," he reminded her, knowing that she was going to insist that he let her go to Chicago. "Whatever mess they are in, they have to get out of it themselves. I've left them with trusted friends and whatever they do from there doesn't involve us..." "You're an asshole," Chloe said but her smile allowed him to hold firm in his belief that they were going to be partners for a long time. "Thank you," he said. "Does this mean you'll keep me?" "Oh boy, you're a keeper all right." "Secure in that knowledge, I leave thee to sleep. Good afternoon, fair lady," Mickey said and got up to leave. Chloe reached up and grabbed his hand. "Thanks for coming, Mick," she whispered. "Hey, what are friends for?" Mickey said before he flashed a smile and disappeared out the door. Chloe took a small sip of the hot tea and leaned back against the pillows. She did not like being immobilized and was not impressed that she would be in no condition to do anything for a while now. The cast that held her shoulder in position was uncomfortable and a royal pain in the ass. "Jesus Christ," she sighed before setting the tea aside and struggling into a more comfortable position. Despite herself, she dropped off to sleep. ----- Chicago, IL Loyola University Fox Mulder started the sedan that he and Scully had rented for their stay in Chicago. They had already discussed the situation and had decided that heading back to Washington to talk to the Assistant Director of the FBI was their only solution. He had helped them keep Cancer Man at bay before. They already knew that Skinner would help them out, if he could. Mulder sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. He was tired and he knew it would be nice to get home. He needed to get a hold of some people to have a few things taken care of. He had to get a bigger apartment. When he thought of the other thing he had to do, his smile grew. A ring for Scully. A nice engagement ring. He was so happy that he didn't even react when the door opened and someone got in the car. He simply assumed it was Scully. "Fox Mulder, so nice that we should meet here of all places," the cold and steely voice said. Suddenly Mulder's nose was filled with the unmistakable stench of cigarette smoke. His eyes snapped open and his smile faded, replaced by a cold frown. Mulder did not reply. "I see you've found Samantha. She's special, you know," Cancer Man was saying. Mulder tried to block it out but couldn't. "What the hell do you want?" he asked, unafraid of the consequences. "All I want is for you to return the girl. She's not your sister any more--" Cancer Man began but Mulder turned angrily on him. "Like hell she isn't!" he cried "Mulder, take a look at her. She's nine years old," Cancer Man said and Mulder felt the blow. As usual the older man was trying to make pain using words. This time, Mulder decided, it would not work. He'd shoot the man clean through the head before he let him wrap his withered fingers around his heart this time. "Shut up!" Mulder said, and reached for his gun. The older man was too fast. Before Mulder knew it, words were not the only weapon in the game any more. There was a fair sized Smith and Wesson pointed at his temple. Mulder swallowed, moving his hands slowly to the steering wheel so that the bastard could see them. "You'll return Samantha to me and I'll be on my way," the man said and Mulder could hear the pleasure in his words. "How'd you find us?" Mulder asked, feeling the last tendrils of his control shriveling away and tightening. "Your friend Chloe Grant was very useful and from there a fair bit of money came in handy, you know," Cancer Man said. "Now, where's Sam?" "I don't have her," Mulder lied. "Don't play games, Mulder. Where the hell is the girl?" Mulder remained silent, infuriating the man. ----- Dana Scully laughed as Sam struggled to hoist Mulder's bag over her shoulder. The little girl had insisted on carrying her big brother's stuff while Scully took hold of all the smaller things. Scully thought Samantha was probably just excited to be heading back to the airport for another plane trip. Scully watched the struggle for a few more minutes and decided the suitcase was much to heavy for the nine year old girl. She would fall down the stairs if Scully didn't stop her soon. "Sammi, let me carry those," Scully said but Sam refused, shaking her head vigorously. "No way, man," Sam said and in a defiant action she started down the stairs. Scully winced but was surprised when the child made it all the way down safely. She sighed with relief and followed. "Crazy kid," she whispered to herself and it was then that she realized just what a hold this kid had on her heart, it was surprising and somewhat frightful. "Are you coming?" Sam asked as she noticed that Scully had stopped walking halfway down the stairs. Scully started and grinned. "Yeah, I'm coming. Geez. Impatient," Scully said. She moved down the stairs and in no time she was beside Sam at the front of the building. Mulder should have had the car out front already, so Scully began to walk in the direction of the parking lot. Mulder probably locked the keys in the car or something stupid like that. Samantha was a few steps behind her, but soon enough she had caught up to Scully and passed her. Sam stopped dead when she noticed something out of the ordinary. Fox Mulder was sitting inside the car and there was another man there too. "Dana, who's Mulder talking to?" Sam asked, her eyes widening. She sighed, noticing that Dana's face turn absolutely white. As white as a sheet. The next thing she heard was the most surprising. Dana Scully cursed. It was a curse like none that Sam had ever heard before. She began to blush, knowing that she probably shouldn't have heard such words from Scully's mouth and probably wouldn't again. "Sammi, I'm sorry," Scully said hurriedly, yanking the girl, suitcase and all, back around the corner. "I want you to go back inside the University. Wait inside until I come to get you." Sam began to lug the suitcase and Scully touched her shoulder. "Forget the suitcase, just run." It was the tone of Scully's voice that frightened Sam the most. It was a scared tone, one which Sam had never heard an adult use before. Just as she reached the steps of the University, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see Scully drawing her gun out of its holster. Sam started to cry. The tears burned her eyes as she ran up the remaining steps and into the University. ----- Scully hadn't meant to express herself in such a colorful manner in front of the young girl, but it was the only way to get out the feelings she felt at seeing Cancer Man in the car with Mulder. She wasn't sure what the situation was and she didn't know what she should do. She decided to wait for a few minutes and observe the situation. She remained hiding around the corner. She didn't want to alert Cancer Man to the fact that she was around, just in case it should complicate things. ----- "Alright, Mulder, we're getting out of the car," Cancer Man said, using a commanding voice. "And if I don't want to?" "Your lovely wife-to-be will be cleaning your brains off the interior of the car just before I shoot her." The reply was harsh and made Mulder cringe. He didn't question how the despicable man knew that he and Scully were engaged but he did question the direct threats. Did this asshole think he could get away with it? "Alright, let's go," Mulder said and slowly opened the door. As he did so, he weighed his options. They were pretty slim. He decided to play along and see what it earned him. He knew Cancer Man wouldn't shoot him yet. He needed the girl and wouldn't leave until he got her. "Easy, Mulder. None of that funny stuff," the man said and Mulder thought it was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. It was a line right out of the movies. "Alright, I'm out, now what?" he asked. The man slowly opened his door and quickly stepped out, his aim only leaving Mulder for a few seconds as he repositioned himself. "We walk," Cancer Man said. Mulder nodded and began his journey using slow deliberate steps. The faster he walked, the closer he became to losing Sam. He had no idea that Scully was waiting around the corner. ----- Scully's breath hitched in her throat as she watched Mulder being directed towards the building. She didn't like the feeling that was raising in her stomach and seating itself in her heart. This time she didn't push it down. It was better to let the fear and anger mingle because she was determined in her plan. She could hear the shuffling of Mulder's slow and deliberate footsteps, her hearing heightened by the blood rushing through her body and the adrenaline feeding her strength. Soon enough she saw Mulder's body appear around the corner and knew that Cancer Man was behind him. She swallowed hard and set her jaw. In one fluent motion, Scully pushed Mulder to the side and stepped forward just as Cancer Man rounded the corner. She knocked the gun out of his outstretched hands and swiftly brought the butt end of her gun down, cracking the older man over the right cheek. He uttered a cry and fell to his knees. It was more a reaction of surprise than pain but it was better for Scully. She kicked him in jaw and sent him sprawling backwards, pointing her gun down at him. "How does it feel?" Scully asked, angrily. She could feel Mulder's presence behind her and knew that she should let the anger subside, but she just couldn't. "How does it feel to know you're about to die?" she screamed. "Scully," Mulder said from behind her. She knew her body was shaking with all the anger she felt but she didn't want to stop. She had to finish this once and for all, while the man was immobilized and at her mercy. "Mulder, shut up," she whispered. The cold blaze in her eyes reflected in Cancer Man's. He began to squirm but he wasn't in any condition to get himself out of danger. "What are you doing, Scully?" Mulder asked and suddenly his voice was full of fright. He hadn't known that Scully had so much anger pent-up towards the man before them. Sure, he'd caused them pain in the past but... His thought wasn't completed. Scully had squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the side, as though she couldn't bear to watch what she was about to do. The sound of the gunshot resounded off the old walls of the University. Suddenly all things around them ceased to exist for the time being and all Mulder saw was Scully's eyes open with every emotion flashing in them except fear. She slowly turned to him, her chest raising and falling with each breath, tears flowing down her face. She dropped the gun to the ground and took a few steps toward him. Mulder rushed to her and threw his arms around her, supporting her because he was sure that she would fall. As he rubbed her back consolingly he could see the mess she'd left. Her shot was well place even though she hadn't been looking and Cancer Man's gray matter was splattered all over the parking lot. It was a few minutes before his senses returned to him and he was aware that Scully was sobbing against his chest. She'd just killed a man in cold blood. She'd killed men before but this one seemed different somehow. Perhaps it was because he could no longer be a burden to them or perhaps it was because she had done it with such a cold fury. "Dana," Mulder said, rubbing the back of her neck gently and hoping the action was enough to calm the sobs. "Fox, I killed him," she said, her voice so shaky and remorseless that Mulder didn't know just what she was saying. "It's for the better," Mulder said. "I killed him," she repeated. Shock. Scully was in shock. "Dana, listen to me, it's alright," Mulder said. "You did everything completely legally," he tried to convince her. ----- End Part Twenty-One -- *Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Bed Springs by Vickie Moseley & Char Hall vmoseley@fgi.net & drakkar@bconnex.net Part Twenty-Two (End) ----- University Parking Loyola University "I think that's all we need for now, Agent Mulder. Thank you for your cooperation," the short, balding detective for the Chicago Police Department said. Mulder vaguely remembered him introducing himself as Det. Patrick Mulligan. Mulder nodded and shook the man's hand. Now that his statement was given, he could go on to the really important things. Like finding Scully in all this mess. The gunshot had brought people, lots and lots of people, out of the nearby classrooms. The gawkers hung on for a while, watching the Coroner's wagon load the black body bag into its cargo area, and leaving the scene. The black and white squad cars, with the blue uniformed officers, did their best to keep the crowd at bay, but this was fairly exciting, even more so that it happened on a relatively quiet college campus and during broad daylight. The official story was simple. An attempted abduction of a Federal Agent resulted in the death of the abductor. It was a good thing the Federal Agent had the good sense to be in the company of another Federal Agent at the time of the attempt. Case closed. In the midst of the crowd, Mulder spied Father Daly. He motioned the agent over with a wave of his hand. "Dana is in the chapel. It's quiet in there. She looked like she needed some time," the old priest said with a gentle smile. "Where's Sam?" Mulder asked, again scanning the area. "I called Michael's mother. The Callavelo's live in Rogers Park, just a few blocks over. She's with little Samantha in my office over in the Doyle Center. She'll be fine until the two of you come get her. And if I'm not mistaken, Bridget, uh, Mrs. Callavelo, is expecting the three of you for dinner. Young Michael is going to have some 'heavy' explaining to do with his mother for not telling her he was in town, I'm afraid," Friar Daly added with a wicked grin. Mulder grinned back and left at a trot to find Scully. The Chapel of the Madonna de la Strata was on the edge of Lake Michigan. Just a few feet from the door of the old Church, the waves of the Lake lapped on the shore, threatening with each movement to dislodge more of the precious soil. One day, without intervention, the Chapel would be claimed by the Lake. But for now, it was a haven in the middle of a crowded urban area. Slowly, Mulder pulled open the heavy wooden doors and entered. It was dark and slightly dank inside. The smells of candle wax, incense and lake water mingled to make their presence almost tangible. The only light came from the stained glass that lined the walls. He found her in the front of the church, kneeling before a statute of someone he could only guess was Mary. Scully looked to be lost in prayer. He walked toward her hesitantly. "It's okay, Mulder, it's not a private conversation," Dana said, without letting her gaze waver from the statute in front of her. "Blessed Mother, this is the man I plan to marry. Fox Mulder, meet the Mother of God," she added and let a gentle smile form on her lips. "Nice to make your acquaintance, uh, Your Lady?" he said with a bit of confusion. He couldn't tell if Dana was serious with this or not and he sure didn't want to cause her any more heartache for the day. "Our Lady," Dana corrected. "She's Our Lady." Suddenly her shoulders began to shake and her head dropped to her chest as tears coursed down her cheeks. "Oh, Mulder, I just killed a man," she sobbed as he took her in his arms. "I killed a man in cold blood. I can't believe I did that. I just can't believe I could hate anyone that much. . ." He stroked her hair and made soft noises in her ear. "It's okay, Dana. It's okay. He would have killed me once he had Sam. And there's no telling what he would have done to her. You did the right thing. It's all right. It will be all right." "Sam! Where's Sam?" she asked anxiously, looking behind him toward the door of the chapel. "Mulder, what if he wasn't alone?" "Not to worry. Father Daly took her to his office. Mickey's mother is with her now. I think she's safe. And as for. . .whatever the hell his name was, well, I'm certain he was alone. Otherwise, whoever was with him would have taken me out when you started shooting." At that thought, she clutched him harder and sobbed again into his shoulder. "I couldn't let him take her. I knew that's what he wanted. I just couldn't let him. Not again." He gently pushed her away for a second to look into her face. "You mean you killed him because he was going to take Sam," he asked, one eyebrow raised. "Well, yes," she said, confusion in her eyes. "Why else?" "Oh, I thought it might have been that I was in danger. You know, he did have a gun on me," Mulder said pointedly. "Mulder," Scully responded, slightly annoyed, "you could have handled that. I was worried that he'd knock you senseless and take Sam. I just wanted it over. I don't think I could have gone on worrying every night if he might come and take her again. That was the only thought in my mind." She wiped at her cheek and he handed her his handkerchief. Mulder bit back his smart reply. This was not the time. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe the woman in front of him really did love his sister, possibly as much as he did. And more than ever before he determined to make her his wife. He looked around at the small chapel. It was very pretty, old, lots of dark wood and beautiful carvings. "Nice church," he commented. She looked around, perhaps for the first time and nodded. "Make a great place for a wedding," he said, his eyes shining. She graced him with a precious smile. "We'd have to fly back here," she said. "And we'd have to bring everyone with us." "What everyone? Your mom, the Gunmen, maybe we'll invite Skinner, Chloe and Mickey. Everyone else has to fly to get to the wedding anyway. So how about it, Scully? Make an honest man of me. Here, in this chapel." ----- Four months later... Wicket's Bar and Grill Washington, DC Michael Callavelo, dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt and a black leather jacket, stepped out of Chloe's sedan and gawked at the line of people that led to the entrance of the bar. "Chloe, maybe this isn't such a good idea..." Mickey protested, feeling a little self conscious. He stood beside the car and stared at the line as Chloe came up beside him. She leaned close to him and said, "Mickey, don't be ridiculous. I've been promising this since we got on that plane together." "I know but--" "But nothin', Mick. You're not going to give up a night of all-you-can-drink beer, are ya?" Chloe asked, poking him playfully in the ribs with her elbow. Mickey laughed, he couldn't help it. Chloe had the strangest grin on her face. "Alright, but how long do you think it's going to take us to get in there?" Chloe's grin spread at the question. "Just watch," she said. She grabbed a hold of his wrist and dragged him to the beginning of the line where she left him to watch her tactics. He noticed that she looked good in tight fitting jeans and a plaid workers shirt. Obviously the bouncer at the door, whose ear she was now whispering in, agreed completely. The bouncer smiled and nodded. Chloe laughed and returned to Mickey's side. He tried to ignore the fact that she still had a limp from her injuries but it was too evident. "What did you say to him?" Mickey asked, curiously. He was trying to shut out the guilty feelings he felt for not being there to help Chloe. Shoving them into the back of his mind he forced himself to smile. He discovered it wasn't all that difficult around Chloe. "I reminded him of a favor I did for him once. He's a friend of mine," Chloe replied. Mickey shook his head. He wasn't going to ask her to explain the favor, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Alright, I'm following you. That guy scares me," Mickey said, draping his arm casually over Chloe's shoulder as a friend might. "He scares you? Mickey, you're the one with the gun..." Chloe said and laughed. "Not tonight," he said as they walked through the crowds of people. "No gun? How do you expect to defend yourself from your evil partner?" Chloe asked, grinning. They found a booth in the far corner of the bar and had to shout over the music to be heard. Mickey shrugged and leaned over the table to shout in Chloe's ear. "I'm not afraid of you," he said. Chloe smiled. She had begun to think this partnership could be the start of a long lasting friendship--something she hadn't had in a long time. Things were looking up for the both of them. ----- Chapel of Madonna de la Strata "Stand still, Mickey! You keep wiggling," Samantha Mulder berated the young agent as she attempted to tie his ascot. "I do better at these things on the 'other' side of the altar, ya know," was his hissed comment. "I was a fairly decent Altar Boy. I was almost a Deacon." "Your talents never cease to amaze me, Callavelo," Fox said dryly, leaning against the door jam and admiring his sister's handiwork. "Hey, squirt, aren't you supposed to be helping the bride?" "Nah, Chloe said she had it under control. She wanted me to make sure you two guys don't embarrass us." She jumped down from the stool she was standing on. "Here, let me look at you," she ordered her brother. Dutifully, he turned around in a slow circle, while Mickey and Sam let out wolf whistles. "You two _can_ be replaced," he growled. Then he reached down and gave his sister a tight hug. "Now, off with you. Go do what flower girls are supposed to do." "I am NOT a 'flower girl'!" she said indignantly. "*I* am a 'junior attendant'!" "Then go 'attend'!" he ordered and gave her a light swat on the backside as she scooted out the door giggling. "So, you got 'cold feet', yet?" Mickey asked when Sam was safely out of earshot. "Not on your life, Callavelo. I've been waiting for this day forever." "You're getting a wonderful lady, that's for sure. And she isn't that bad a boss, either," he smiled. The new, expanded X-Files division, which included two subdivisions, one investigative, one forensic had been Skinner's wedding present. With the demise of Cancer Man, the Consortium had vanished into thin air, but managed to leave behind enough evidence to answer several questions. "She's too easy on you. She needs to whip you into shape," Fox smiled. "Oh, like you do?" Mickey asked with a devilish grin. "Come on. Chloe will kill me if I don't get you out there on time." *********** "Do you see them?" Dana asked, trying to sound calmer than she felt. Chloe was standing with the door to the sanctuary opened a crack. "Just a minute. . .OK, here they come. Yeah. They're up there now," she said and tried to hide her relief. "You did a good job with that tie, Sammi. I couldn't have done better," she smiled down at the little girl. Samantha beamed. "It wasn't easy, either. He fidgets," she said solemnly. Chloe broke into a grin. "I've noticed. Last stake out I was ready to tie him to his seat! The man is. . ." "Typical?" Dana chimed in and all three broke into peals of laughter. When they regained their composure, she straightened her dress and veil. "Chloe, you're sure about this?" she asked before taking her bouquet from her 'maid of honor'. "Hey, it will be a pleasure. I'll love watching Sam for you while you're gone. Who ever heard of taking a nine year old on a honeymoon! You two just go, have a great time and maybe even leave the hotel room once or twice, just to send us a post card," she added with a wink. "Now, come on. I think we've made them squirm long enough. Move out, troops!" ----- END *End Note: Big thanks go to Megan Reilly who did a wicked editing job on this. Thanks for the time and effort Megan! (Hey, why not have a shameless plug?) Go read her stuff, it's great! --