Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (8/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Sunday
9:26 PM


Grey pulled the car smoothly to the curb and turned off the
engine. "Home, sweet home." He peered between the seats.
"Is it just me or did that four-hour trip feel more like
twenty-four?"

Scully shifted her legs, grimacing at the pins and needles
sensation in her feet. "Definitely not just you." She looked
down at Mulder's slack, peaceful face. "Let's get him
upstairs. Then, hopefully, we can all get some sleep."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

As Grey got out of the car, Scully brushed the backs of her
fingers down Mulder's cheek. "We're home, Mulder. Time
to wake up."

He didn't twitch, not even when Grey tugged the door open
and let in a gust of cold air.

Scully shook his shoulder, raising her voice. "Come on,
Mulder. Wake up."

He cracked open one eye and regarded her blearily for a
moment before it slid shut. Levering him upright, Scully
tapped his cheek. "Thought you didn't want to wrestle--
remember?"

He squinted at her, brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"Never mind. Let Grey help you out of the car. We're
home."

"'M fine. Don't need help." He waved Grey aside and
crawled out of the open door, nearly tumbling onto the
pavement.

Grey grasped his brother around the waist, hooking
Mulder's right arm around his neck. "Humor me, little
brother."

"'Kay."

His brief flash of independence extinguished, Mulder
sagged against Grey, chin dipping toward his chest and
eyes at half-mast. Scully wormed her way under his limp
left arm, adding her support, and together she and Grey
steered him toward the front door of the apartment
building.

Grey frowned at her over his brother's bent head. "He's
asleep on his feet. What the hell was in those pills you gave
him?" he hissed.

"Diazepam." At Grey's blank look, she clarified, "Valium.
Dr. Hammond gave it to me along with the vitamins and
antibiotic. Considering the likelihood of post-traumatic
stress, he was afraid Mulder might experience more
outbursts like the one during the MRI."

"Looks like he was right on the money."

"I didn't want to risk another flashback at seventy miles an
hour."

"I, uh, see your point."

Scully fumbled for the door handle, barely maintaining her
grasp on six feet of loopy Mulder. Rapid footsteps
approached just as her fingers slipped and Mulder slid
toward the ground. Peripherally, she saw a strong hand grip
Mulder's arm above the elbow and haul him upright.

"Agent Scully, Grey. Seems like you could use a little
help."

She looked up into Skinner's warm brown eyes. "Sir?"

"Well hey, Walt. You're a sight for sore eyes," Grey
drawled as Skinner stepped in and snugged Mulder's arm
more firmly around his shoulders.

Mulder stiffened. Blinking, he studied Skinner's face for a
long moment before his wobbly head dropped onto Grey's
shoulder and his eyelids fluttered shut. "Babe, I dunno what
was in that pill you gave me, but all of a sudden you look
exactly like Skinner. 'S scaring the hell outta me."

Skinner rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you, too, Agent
Mulder."

Grey laughed silently. "Don't worry about it, Fox. Just relax
and let us do the driving."

Scully held the door open and they manhandled Mulder
into the foyer. She darted around them and pressed the
elevator button.

Grey pulled up short. "Uh, Dana? You sure that's such a
good idea? Maybe the stairs..."

Skinner frowned, adjusting his grip when Mulder nearly
slithered out of his grasp. "Stairs?" He drew out the word.

"It'll be fine, Grey." She tipped her head toward Mulder and
arched an eyebrow.

Grey took a good look at his brother. Fox's slitted eyes
revealed only a hint of hazel, his body boneless. Odds were
good that a trip in the elevator would fly right under his
radar.

Scully stepped to the back, making room for Grey, Mulder,
and Skinner. They shuffled inside, and Grey patted his
brother's waist as the doors rumbled shut. "Hang in there,
Fox. A few more minutes and we can all take a load off."

"Oh, Grey. I forgot about your back." Scully saw that
despite Skinner's best efforts, Grey bore the brunt of
Mulder's weight.

"I'm all right." Grey was silent a moment before continuing
in a voice low and tight with anger. "He must be a good
twenty pounds lighter than normal. Hell, I could practically
carry him."

Scully bit back a reply. She and Dr. Hammond estimated
that Mulder had dropped closer to thirty pounds.

The brief elevator ride passed without incident. Feeling as
if she were nearing the end of a long race, Scully let them
into the apartment and led the way to the bedroom, flicking
on lights as she went.

"I can take it from here," she said, folding back the
bedspread and motioning for Skinner and Grey to sit their
charge on the mattress.

The change of position jolted Mulder awake. He panicked,
flinching from the supporting hands with a low cry.

"Easy, Mulder." Skinner backed off a step, palms raised.
"Everything's okay."

"We're home, Mulder." Scully moved around the men and
into Mulder's line of sight. "Grey and Skinner just helped
get you in from the car."

Mulder ran both hands over his face as if to scrub away his
confusion. "Uh...no offense, sir, but when did you join the
party?"

"I'm not joining, Mulder, just passing through. Don't mind
me; you go ahead and get some rest." Skinner paused in the
doorway, eyes crinkled with the suggestion of a smile.
"And Mulder? If this your idea of a party, you need to get
out more."

Grey squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Good night, Fox."

Scully ushered them out of the bedroom and shut the door.
When she turned around, Mulder was nodding off, his chin
dipping to his chest.

"Stay with me, Mulder. You can't sleep like that."

She stripped off his sweatshirt, guiding rubbery arms
through the sleeves and tugging it over his head. Mulder,
hair sticking up at all angles, managed only a pitiful
imitation of a lecherous leer.

"Scully, please. Grey and Skinner are right in the next room
and we both know how noisy you get."

She snorted indelicately, tipping him onto his back and
setting to work on his jeans. "Me? Two words, Mulder.
Mrs. Wendling."

"Low blow, babe."

"I told you to close the window."

"The woman is older than God and has hearing aids in both
ears. I thought she'd be sound asleep. Besides, it was none
of her business."

"It was middle of the night. You were moaning "Right
there, right there" and "Harder, harder" loud enough to
wake the dead." Scully popped open the last button and
skimmed the jeans down his legs.

"At least I faced her with a plausible explanation. You, as I
recall, hid in the bedroom."

"You told her we were hanging pictures, Mulder. At 2:30
a.m. I'd hardly call that plausible."

"It got her to leave, didn't it?" Mulder chuckled throatily,
then yawned. "Mrs. Wendling is a shameless busybody
with too much time on her hands. That was probably the
highlight of her week."

Scully drew the covers up to his chest. Smoothing his hair
back, she kissed his forehead. "Sleep."

He caught hold of her wrist as she straightened. "Leaving
me? When I'm finally in a bed big enough for two?" The
light, teasing lilt to his voice didn't match the tense set of
his mouth and the painful pressure of his fingers.

She perched on the edge of the mattress. "I need to find out
why Skinner's here. I doubt it's a social call."

He levered himself up on his elbows and pushed back the
blanket. "I'll come with you."

"Mulder." She pressed her palm to his chest. "You can
barely keep your eyes open. You were sleepwalking the
whole way in from the car. Rest. I'll join you soon, I
promise."

Mulder flopped back onto the pillows. Scully tucked the
blanket back up around his shoulders and stood. Folding
her arms, she studied his face. Mulder evaded her gaze, his
teeth tormenting his lower lip and his body rigid.

"Talk to me, Mulder. What's going on?"

"Nothing." When she raised an eyebrow, he ground out
through gritted teeth, "Nothing I can explain, or even
understand." He made a weak shooing motion. "Go on. I'm
fine."

Though she could see he was anything but, Mulder's
strained smile pleaded that she not press the issue. She
nodded and turned toward the door.

"Scully?" Mulder's sharp call froze her fingers on the light
switch. His smile faded, leaving eyes that looked too large
in his thin face. He glanced away, mumbling something too
softly for her to hear.

"What?"

"I said leave it on!" He flushed and lowered his voice.
"Please."

Troubled, she left the lamp on and the door open. In the
living room, Skinner and Grey were conversing quietly.
She gestured for them to remain seated and dropped onto
the couch beside Grey. Some of her discomfort must have
shown on her face, because he broke off mid-sentence, a
small line forming between his brows.

"Everything all right?"

"Everything is fine." She turned expectantly to Skinner.

"Scully, I know you're all tired, so I'll keep this brief. I
thought you'd be interested to know that I had a forensics
team from the Richmond office go over the area where
those hikers stumbled onto Mulder."

"And?"

"That part of the state had experienced heavy rainfall
several days earlier. The ground was still saturated."

"In other words, in prime condition to retain evidence,"
Grey interjected.

"Exactly. They found two distinct sets of footprints that
matched the hikers' boots, and the imprint from Mulder's
body. Unfortunately, the EMTs and their equipment tore up
most of the ground immediately surrounding it."

"But they did find something more."

Skinner nodded. "They were able to backtrack Mulder's
trail to a small clearing three miles from where he was
found."

"*Three miles?*" Grey choked out the words. "He could
barely lift his arm. How in God's name did he make it three
miles?"

"What did they find in the clearing?" Scully asked.

Skinner clenched his jaw. "You can probably guess what
they found. Nothing. There was an indentation at the end of
the trail, the size and shape indicating a body had impacted
the ground, probably falling a distance of ten to twelve feet.
No tire tracks, ruts, shoe prints--nothing to explain how
someone apparently dropped Mulder into the middle of a
field without leaving a scrap of evidence."

Grey blew out a long breath. "Bet that went over well."

One corner of Skinner's mouth twitched. "The agent in
charge expressed...frustration."

"This only confirms what we already know," Scully said,
her voice raspy. "Gratifying, perhaps, but essentially
useless. We know who took Mulder. What we don't know
is why."

"And for that, I'm afraid I have no answer." Skinner stood.
"I'll let you get some sleep."

Scully followed him to the front door. "Sir, please don't
think I'm not grateful for this information, but..."

"But I could just as easily have delivered it over the
phone?" Skinner glanced down the hallway to the bedroom
and cleared his throat.

Scully blinked. Skinner looked almost...sheepish.

"Let's just say I was in the neighborhood, Scully. Keep in
touch."

Scully closed the door and leaned against it, bemused.

Grey shrugged. "Like I said, Fox may be a pain in the ass,
but he grows on you."

A yawn stole her reply. Scully stretched, wincing when
stiff muscles twanged. "You'd better hit the road if you
want to catch Kristen still awake."

Grey ambled into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water
from the refrigerator. "Not a problem. I phoned her while
you were in with Fox and let her know I'd be crashing on
your couch."

Scully swallowed and took a steadying breath. "You are?"

"I already told you, darlin'. I'll be right here as long as you
need me."

"It won't happen again." She said it with a confidence she
didn't feel. Grey's carefully neutral expression told her he
knew it.

She busied herself retrieving sheets and a blanket from the
linen closet, then helped him make up the sofa. In the back
of her mind, she acknowledged that she was stalling.
Afraid--not of Mulder, but of whatever new nightmare
might wear her face.

*"Stop...hurts. Scully...no."*

Grey took the soft cotton blanket from her restless fingers.
"It's going to be all right."

"Will it?"

"Eventually."

She mustered a smile as transparent as her earlier show of
confidence. "Good night, Grey."

"Good night, Dana."

At the bedroom door, she heard him murmur, "Sweet
dreams."

Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed they would be.


Continued in Chapter 9

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (9/21)
By Dawn



Georgetown
Monday
2:33 AM


*Oh, God. It hurts!

Logic tells him struggling is useless--the bright beam
pinning him to the table is relentless, unbeatable. Fighting
to break free only expends energy his wasted body can't
afford to lose.

A crack, like a pencil snapping, and logic disappears,
obliterated by his bloodcurdling shrieks. Screams that
scour raw nerve endings, wring tears from his eyes, but
never pass his lips--the light that immobilizes him also
renders him mute.

"Resistance is futile, Mulder. Haven't you learned that by
now? Cooperation is the only way you'll survive."

The seductive whisper is as great a torment as broken
bones. Scully's sweet voice, her warm breath tickling his
ear, the soft curve of her cheek. He can't even close his eyes
to block out the beautiful, terrible sight.

"Talk to me, Mulder. Tell me what you're feeling. On a
scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"

The light winks out, releasing him. Flinching from her
touch, he moans, the low cry of an animal in pain. He
slams his eyes shut and shudders course through his body--
pain, shock, fear.

But he can't shut out her voice.

"Tell us what we need to know, love, and I'll help you. I'll
give you something for the pain and hold you until you fall
asleep."

He wants it so badly, the comfort only she can give. Yearns
to feel her arms, her body. Velvet and steel, solace and
strength. The face, the words, the tone--everything is right
except the eyes. Flat. Assessing. Devoid of human warmth
and emotion.

Alien.

"NOOOOOO!"*


Mulder bolted upright, choking back a scream. Heart
pounding, he wrapped his arms around his body and
panted. Sweat trickled into his eyes and plastered his tee
shirt to his chest. He held up trembling hands, flexing his
fingers.

Beside him, Scully slept the sleep of the exhausted. He
leaned in closer, resisting the urge wake her. Lips slightly
parted, respiration slow and deep, her warm breath
feathered across his cheek.

*"Resistance is futile, Mulder. Haven't you learned that by
now? Cooperation is the only way you'll survive."*

Mulder jerked backward, shivering. Brow furrowed, Scully
murmured a soft protest and then quieted. Swallowing hard,
he swiped the moisture from his face with the hem of his
shirt and slipped out of bed, careful not to shake the
mattress.

He wandered into the living room and picked up the remote
control, his finger poised over the button when he noticed
the outline of a body on the couch. Grey sprawled across
the cushions, cocooned in a blanket. Like Scully, he slept
soundly, oblivious to Mulder's restless prowling.

He paced to the window and stared at the glowing
streetlights and frosted car windows. The desire to run, to
feel the crisp night air on his face and hear the slap of shoes
on pavement, nearly overpowered him. Rubbing a hand
over his protruding collarbone and too prominent ribs, he
remembered the look on Grey's face when he'd stripped off
his hospital gown and wondered how long it would be
before his wasted body was capable of running again.

When his legs began feeling wobbly, he padded into the
kitchen. Eschewing the overhead light for fear of waking
Grey, he pulled a carton of milk from the refrigerator and
sat down at the table.

He'd consumed about a third of the carton and was staring
morosely at the ticking clock when the lights clicked on.

"Fox?" Grey stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. "What
were you doing here in the dark?"

"Drinking milk." Mulder raised the carton. "Care to join
me?"

"Thanks, but I think I'd rather have juice." Grey grabbed a
glass from the cupboard, filled it, and dropped into the
chair beside his brother's. He wrinkled his nose when
Mulder took another swig. "You're going to catch hell if
Dana sees you doing that."

Mulder shook his head. "Shows how much you know.
Scully and I already faced off on this issue and negotiated a
mutually agreeable solution." He tapped the label. "This is
two percent. Scully prefers nonfat. She always makes sure I
have my own carton so I can." His voice caught and he
blinked at the container.

"What?"

"I've been gone three months. Scully left here on the spur
of the moment, with no guarantee she'd be bringing me
home. Why would this be in the refrigerator?"

"Faith? Hope?" Grey smiled. "She never gave up on you,
Fox. Not for a minute."

Suddenly the carton seemed to weigh ten pounds. Mulder
set it down with a thud and buried his face in his hands.

"Fox? Are you all right?"

He peered through his fingers. "Me? I'm on the top of the
world, can't you tell?" He hated the cautious, gentle
expression that was Grey's response.

"No one else expects you to ignore the past three months
and just pick up where you left off, Fox. Why do you?"

"What I expect is for you to be my brother and not my
shrink. *I'm* the psychologist, remember? And as you may
recall, I've had more than a passing acquaintance with post-
traumatic stress."

"This is different."

"Why? Because after twenty-eight years I finally got what
was coming to me?"

"How about you can the pissy act and tell me why you
were sitting here in the dark instead of curled up in bed
with your wife?"

"I." He drew in a shaky breath. Half of him needed to tell
Grey, ached to unburden himself. The other was terrified of
putting voice to the horror. "I remembered something"

*"Talk to me, Mulder. Tell me what you're feeling. On a
scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?"*

He shivered, squeezing his eyes shut and knotting his
fingers in his hair. "Shit!"

Time slipped its track. The next thing Mulder knew, Grey
was rubbing the nape of his neck and making soothing
sounds. He concentrated, and the sounds gradually resolved
themselves into words.

".just a memory, Fox. It's over now. You're home. You're
safe."

"I'm okay," he panted. His head throbbed and his eyes felt
hot and scratchy. "I'm okay."

"'Course you are." Grey sat back, lines creasing his
forehead and marring his smile.

Mulder braced himself for interrogation, surprised when
Grey got up and walked out of the room. Reappearing
moments later, he poured a glass of water and placed it and
two Tylenol on the table.

He stared at the offering, then picked them up. "How'd you
know I have a headache?"

"Your face gets squinty."

He nearly inhaled the pills. "My face gets *squinty*?"

"Yeah. You know." Grey scrunched up his own features.

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not sure what's scarier--that
you're right about the headache or that you used the same
word Scully does."

Several minutes of silence passed before he realized Grey
was waiting him out. He looked down at his hands, flexing
and curling the fingers.

"They, uh." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat.
"They broke my fingers. All of them. One by one."

He looked at Grey, gauging his reaction. His brother licked
his lips but his expression remained calm. Only his hands,
slowly curling into fists, gave away his anger. Grey finally
spoke in a tight, controlled voice.

"Do you have any idea why they did it? Did they speak to
you?"

Mulder's throat closed up but he ground out a reply. "Let's
just say I've developed a whole new perspective on lab
rats." He cocked his head. "You want to tell me why you
don't seem all that surprised?"

Grey closed his eyes. "The x-rays, the MRI."

Milk and water churned in his stomach. Mulder breathed
through his nose, fighting the nausea. "There's more?"

Grey sighed and opened his eyes. "Lots more."

"Great. Something I can look forward to." He pressed both
palms to the table and spread his fingers. "There's no
residual pain. No impairment of mobility. I'm completely
healed. How can that be?"

"We were kind of hoping you could tell us."

Mulder scowled but said nothing.

Another long silence stretched between them. Grey slid his
hand across the table and clasped Mulder's arm. "Fox. What
aren't you telling me?"

Mulder looked away. "I don't know what you mean."

"There's something else bothering you. Something more."

"What? Like the Great Fox Mulder Lab Experiment isn't
enough?"

"Look, you can deny it all you like. But I know you, and I
can tell when you aren't leveling with me."

"Let me guess--my face gets squinty."

"All I'm saying is that you need to talk to someone. If not
me, then maybe Dana--"

Mulder cut him off, horrified. "Scully is the *last* person I
could tell."

"Okaaaay."

Mulder shoved back his chair, snatched up the carton of
milk and returned it to the refrigerator. Bottles clanked and
rattled when he slammed the door shut, then pressed his
forehead to the cool metal. It was a long time before he
spoke.

"There's a little detail I may have forgotten to share about
our alien friends--some of them are shapeshifters. They can
duplicate any human form; that's how they move among us
without detection. They're good, too. It's nearly impossible
to distinguish the copy from the real person."

Grey leaned forward.

"They.ah.they talked to me as they broke my fingers.
Asked me questions. I couldn't get away, couldn't *move*,
pinned down like a bug by that damn light--" He sucked in
a deep breath. "They wanted to know exactly how it felt.
How bad was the pain on a scale of one to ten? Did I build
up a tolerance or did the degree of discomfort increase
exponentially with each finger? The fact that they showed
no empathy, only cold, clinical detachment, was almost as
terrifying as the pain."

"I can't imagine--"

"No. You can't." Mulder turned and leaned against the
appliance, wrapped in a self-hug. "Refusing to answer
pissed them off. At first they tried upping the pain. When I
still wouldn't give them what they needed, they came up
with a different strategy. Suddenly.suddenly the leader of
the alien inquisition looked a hell of a lot like my wife."
Legs folding, he slid slowly down to the floor and rested
his head on his knees.

Grey slipped out of his chair and sat beside his brother on
the cold tile. Mulder leaned into him, drawing strength
from the simple contact. He choked out a ragged laugh. "I
guess it explains why I nearly strangled Scully."

"She understands, Fox. In fact, she suspected something
like this."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? What they did,
using Scully against me, was worse than 1000 broken
bones. They stole the one thing in my life that I trust
without reservation. How am I supposed to get it back?"

He felt Grey's hand, warm and solid, rest on his bowed
head. "You don't have to get it back, little brother. You
haven't lost it. Sure, they've got you confused, all twisted
up inside. But you said it yourself--you trust it without
reservation. Trust *her* without reservation. What
happened to you just puts that to the test."

"When you say it like that, it sounds easy."

"Hell, no. I can pretty much guarantee nothing's going to be
easy for a long time." He removed his hand, a tough edge
creeping into his voice. "Fox, for three months I watched
that woman focus mind, body, and soul on a single goal--
finding you and bringing you home. Nothing else mattered.
Don't you dare give her anything less."

Mulder turned his face toward Grey. "I never said I
deserved her."

"Yeah? Well, you're in luck, 'cause she seems to think you
do." He shifted, grimacing. "And on that note, I suggest we
either move this discussion to the table or go back to bed.
I'm freezing my ass off."

Mulder accepted the outstretched hand and allowed Grey to
haul him upright. Baring his soul to his brother was both
liberating and exhausting. Suddenly sleep sounded like a
very good idea.

"Bed," he replied around a yawn. For the first time he
really noticed the dark shadows under Grey's eyes. "You
look like you need it as bad as I do."

Grey shrugged, one corner of his mouth turned up in a self-
deprecating grin. "I've been having a little trouble with
insomnia, but I think it'll be better now."

"Thanks." Mulder's voice wavered and his eyes burned. He
gritted his teeth, cursing emotions too close to the surface.

"You're welcome. For what?"

"Being here. Listening." He huffed. "Kicking my ass for
trying to wallow in self-pity."

"Hey, I'm you're big brother. Kicking your ass is not only a
pleasure, it's an obligation."

They stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments
before Grey pulled Mulder into a careful hug. "In case I
forgot to mention it, it's really good having you home."

Mulder nodded, not trusting his voice. He waited until Grey
had settled back onto the couch before shutting off the
lights and feeling his way back down the hall to the
bedroom.

Moonlight seeped through the blinds and spilled across the
bed. Scully slept peacefully, lying on her stomach with her
face turned toward the door. He stood over her for a long
time, mesmerized by the muted fire of her hair, the delicate
fringe of lashes, the pale shell of an ear.

When he slipped into bed, Scully rolled onto her side and
her eyes fluttered open. "Mulder?" She touched his cheek,
brushed her fingers through his hair. "Are you all right?"

He looked into eyes filled with warmth, affection, and
concern and the weight in his chest eased. "I just needed a
drink of water. Sorry I woke you."

She scooted over, tangling their legs and laying her head on
his chest. "Your feet are like ice."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "It's a shameless ploy for
shared body heat. Looks like it worked."

She tightened the arm around his waist. "And it didn't even
have to rain sleeping bags."

He chuckled. The laughter felt rusty and unfamiliar, as if
pulled from mothballs after a long season if disuse, but
amazingly good. Mulder was still smiling as he sank into
dreamless sleep.


Continued in Chapter 10

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (10/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Monday
9:12 AM


The front door slammed shut and Grey staggered into the
kitchen. He held a large bag of groceries in each arm and a
white paper sack in his mouth.

"Honey, I'm home!" he sing-songed between clenched
teeth.

Scully set her coffee mug on the table and grabbed the
damp bag, wrinkling her nose. "I wondered where you'd
gone." She peered inside. "Danishes? From Harner's?"

"Yup." Grey began unpacking the grocery bags.

Scully raised an eyebrow as he spread a banquet spread
across the counter. "Filet mignon? Baking potatoes? Sour
cream, fresh bread...*Double Stuff Oreos*?"

"Good with a tall glass of milk."

"Grey..."

"The cupboards were bare."

"So you stocked up on all of Mulder's vices."

"Hey, we've got some good sources of protein and fiber
here."

"And fat, and cholesterol..." She trailed off. Despite Grey's
banter, she could read grim determination in his level gaze.

"He looks like a stiff breeze could blow him away, Dana."

She sighed, surrendering. "Don't bother freezing the steaks;
we can have them tonight. We'll make it a special 'welcome
home' party. Call Kristen and ask her to join us."

"Will do." He tucked the sour cream and a carton of milk
into the refrigerator. "Where's the guest of honor?"

"Still sleeping, last I checked." She frowned. "The
diazepam must have hit him harder than I thought. He's
been out for nearly eleven hours."

Grey cleared his throat. "Uh...not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"He had a little trouble during the night."

"Define 'a little trouble'."

"A nightmare." Grey grimaced and began unpacking the
second bag. "Actually, more like a memory."

Scully grabbed his wrist. "Mulder remembered
something?"

"Yeah."

"Well? What was it?" Scully flushed when Grey gently
pried her fingers from his arm and she saw the small
crescent-shaped marks her nails left behind. "Sorry."

He gestured for her to sit. Scully sank into her chair,
watching through narrowed eyes as he leaned back against
the counter and drew in a deep breath.

"He remembered them breaking his fingers."

She clasped trembling hands together and rested them in
her lap. "How explicit was the memory?"

"He didn't go into a lot of detail, but..." Grey paused, teeth
clenched, then continued in a monotone. "From what I can
gather, they treated him like a science project. He said they
asked questions as they hurt him. Quizzed him about the
pain."

"God." Scully tightened her fingers until her knuckles
turned white.

"It gets worse, Dana."

"I know where this is going, Grey. Was I the one breaking
fingers or the one asking questions?"

"I, ah, guess they thought maybe he'd talk to you."

Scully closed her eyes, swiping at errant tears that leaked
past her defenses. "I saw this coming, but..."

She stood and picked up her empty mug. Grey shifted,
giving her access to the sink, and continued to watch her.

"Dana."

"I expected this. I did."

"All right, so you expected it. That doesn't mean you can't
be hurt by it. Or extremely pissed off. Dana..." He ducked
his head, peering into her eyes. "Give it some time. You
two will get past this."

She shut off the water and faced him, heedless of the
droplets that trickled down her arms and dripped onto the
floor. "I know we'll get past this. After all, coping is what
Mulder and I do best. We spend our lives recovering from
one tragedy after another. Well, I'm tired of it, Grey.
Mulder deserves better than this. We both do."

Grey frowned. "What are you saying?"

She turned her back to him, snatching up the dishtowel and
drying her hands. "Nothing. I just...I have some thinking to
do."

"Do I smell coffee?"

Scully spun around, forcing a smile that felt unconvincing.
Mulder shuffled over to the table, dropping into a chair
with a soft grunt. She studied his damp hair and clean
clothing with pursed lips, grateful to focus on something
else.

"You showered."

"I smelled, therefore I showered." Mulder inhaled, eyes
half-closed with bliss. "Now, did someone mention
coffee?"

"Yes, there's coffee." She held up her finger. "And no, you
can't have any. It's on the list of restrictions Dr. Hammond
sent home with you. Right next to showering without
supervision."

Mulder batted his lashes, lowering his voice. "Baby, you
can be my shower chaperone any time you like. All you
had to do was ask."

"I'm serious, Mulder. You're still too weak. You could have
fainted, hit your head."

"First of all, real men don't faint. We black out, keel over,
lose consciousness." When she glared at him, he huffed,
"I'm fine, Scully."

"Catch." Grey tossed him the white sack.

Mulder fielded it and peeked inside. "Harner's!" He bit into
a Danish, moaning as he chewed.

Scully's lips turned up but she shook her head. "You're
going to regret that, Mulder."

"Don't tell me--it's on the list," Mulder said around another
mouthful of pastry. He turned wistful eyes on Grey.
"Coffee?"

Scully planted herself in front of the machine. "Over my
dead body."

Grey lifted both hands. "Sorry, little brother. I will NOT
go there."

"Coward."

"Nope. Just blessed with a healthy sense of self-
preservation."

"Is that what you call it?"

Scully let them draw her in, reveling in the normality of
their banter. Seeing Mulder like this, laughing and
grumbling with Grey, she could forget about broken bones
and scarred organs. Nightmares and panic attacks.

At least, she could try.

"Mulder, you have an appointment with Nick Brewer in a
little over an hour. I'm going to get cleaned up."

"Need a little supervision, babe?"

She smiled, but her heart wasn't in it. "One hour, Mulder."


Georgetown Medical
11:06 AM


It was becoming harder and harder to sit still. Mulder paced
the exam room, all arms and legs and nowhere to go. He
picked up an otoscope and flicked it on, using it to examine
first a diagram of the circulatory system and then his own
hand. After plugging it back into its base, he plucked two
tongue depressors from a jar and began drumming on any
and all available surfaces. He sensed Scully's eyes
following every movement, but she remained silent.

"I still don't see why we had to do this today." He beat a
rapid tattoo on the counter, occasionally tapping a glass jar
full of cotton balls for variety. "Hammond ran every test
known to mankind on me, and he released me from the
hospital."

"Reluctantly. And with the understanding that you would
see your own physician as soon as possible." Scully
tightened her lips. "Mulder. Please sit down."

He dropped the sticks onto the counter and, shying away
from the exam table, snagged a small, wheeled stool. He sat
on the vinyl seat, swiveling left, then right. Even though he
knew he was driving Scully nuts, he couldn't stop himself.

"Mulder, what's going on? You know you can trust Nick.
Just let him look you over; it won't take long."

"I'm fine, Scully. I can think of a million places I'd rather
be, that's all." He spun left and glimpsed the cloth restraints
dangling from the sides of the mattress. Suddenly his
mouth felt bone dry, and the itchy, jittery sensation
ratcheted up several notches. Scrambling to his feet, he
backed toward the door. "I need some water."

"Mulder, my man!" Nick breezed into the room, a chart in
his hand and a fish tie knotted around his neck. "It's good to
see you. Even if you do look like hell." He tipped his head
at Scully. "Dana."

"Nick."

Nick's smile faded as he set the chart on the counter and
folded his arms. "I've gone over the records you forwarded
to me, and..." He shook his head. "Well frankly, I'm
speechless."

"Welcome to the X-Files. They have that effect on the
uninitiated."

Scully frowned at Mulder's flat, emotionless tone. "You
know what we do, Nick. Mulder's told you about quite a
few of our cases, not to mention the fact that you had a
ringside seat when he nearly died from the alien virus."

Nick scratched his head. "Weeell, I don't exactly remember
you calling it 'alien' at the time, but I've gleaned enough
information since to put it all together." He looked at each
of them with sharp eyes. "I know you both believe in the
existence of extraterrestrial life. And that over the years
you've seen some things that you feel corroborate that
belief."

Mulder snorted softly. "Yeah. Well, now I could give
whole new meaning to the term 'eye witness.'"

Nick's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying? The
information I received states that you incurred your injuries
in the line of duty. That you were abducted and held against
your will for over three months."

"All true."

"Well then maybe you can explain how you survived the
kind of trauma evidenced by the x-rays and MRI. Because
as much as you've proven to be the comeback kid, there's
no way in hell you should be breathing right now."

Mulder shook his head. "Nick, Nick. You're not thinking
X-Files. Extreme possibilities, remember?"

"Mulder," Scully warned.

A small piece of him felt remorse for playing with Brewer's
head just to delay the inevitable.

Nick sucked in a quick breath. "Wait a minute, wait a
minute. Are you trying to tell me *aliens* abducted you?"

Mulder tapped his nose.

Nick blinked, mouth hanging open. "My God."

"Had nothing to do with it."

"Mulder."

"Okay, let me get this straight. Aliens...," Brewer made a
spiraling motion with his finger, "...beamed you up. And
did this to you? How--"

"I don't remember."

Brewer raised his eyebrows.

"I don't...at first it was all a blank." Mulder stared at a point
just past Brewer's shoulder. "It's starting to come back, in
small pieces."

"Okay." Nick stroked his chin. "Why don't you, ah, hop up
here and take off your shirt." He patted the exam table.

Mulder pushed down a spike of anxiety and seated himself
on the mattress. Stripping off his tee shirt, he tossed it to
Scully. He shivered, holding his body rigid as the cool air
raised goosebumps.

Nick looked up from the chart and grimaced. "God,
Mulder, what did they do, put you on some kind of alien
Weight Watchers?"

The irreverent humor was exactly what he needed. Mulder
relaxed, the stiff muscles in his back loosening. "You've got
a hell of a bedside manner, Brewer. Didn't they teach you
anything in med school?"

"They tried. 'Course, their approach was always a bit
more...conservative than mine." He blew on his
stethoscope, then pressed it to Mulder's chest. "Nice deep
breaths."

Brewer proceeded to check respiration, heart rate, pupil
response, the beds of his nails, and the whites of his eyes.
He looked in Mulder's ears, nose, and throat and tested
balance and coordination. Jotting a few notes on the chart,
he sat back with a shrug.

"I have no explanation--but then, I don't think you expected
one." When Scully pursed her lips and shook her head, he
continued. "I'm troubled by the weight loss--I'm guessing
you've dropped thirty pounds, and you never had it to lose.
Along with the obvious weakness and fatigue, it puts you at
high risk for whatever bug happens to be making the
rounds--and there's plenty to choose from this time of year.

"I want to give you an injection of, in simplistic terms, a
vitamin cocktail. And I'll send an oral supplement home
with you. You must take it, and the antibiotic Hammond
prescribed, religiously." When Mulder made a face he held
up a hand. "I'm very serious here, Mulder. We need to build
you back up or the first cold that comes along will take you
out at the knees. I'd also stick close to home, avoid public
places for a couple weeks. By then you'll hopefully have
regained some strength."

Mulder chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound.

"What?"

"Nick, I can't even get in an elevator right now without
breaking into a cold sweat. I'm not exactly itching to go out
on the town."

Nick glanced at Scully. "Yeah. About that. I'm sure you
both realize Hammond made a strong recommendation for
counseling."

Mulder chuffed. "Like that's going to happen."

"We haven't talked about it yet."

Mulder glared at Scully, irritated by the calm, firm tone of
voice. "There's nothing to talk about."

"We'll discuss this later, Mulder."

"Who exactly do you expect me to see, Scully? Do we look
in the yellow pages under Counseling dash Alien
Abductees?"

"I told you, I'm not getting into this here."

"It doesn't matter where we 'get into this,' Scully, because
the outcome will be the same. There's no way in hell I'm--"

Nick made a "time out" signal. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm an
internist, not a referee and this is certainly not the Monday
night fights. Take off the gloves, kids."

They glared at each other, continuing the argument
nonverbally. Mulder was the first to break eye contact.

"So when can I get out of here?"

"Like I said, I'm going to send someone in to give you that
injection. And I think we'll draw some blood, do a full
work up. Some of Hammond's results were pretty wonky
and I'd like to double check the labs."

Mulder met Scully's gaze, seeing his own amusement
reflected back. "Then let's get it over with."

"I'm on it. Mulder, you can go ahead and put your shirt
back on. Dana, if you'll come with me for just a moment, I
think we could use your signature on a couple forms."

"Subtle," Mulder muttered as Scully handed him the shirt.

Nick opened the door and flashed him a grin and a sloppy
salute. "She'll be right back. I promise."

Mulder swung his legs, drumming his heels against the
metal table. Realizing he was gripping the edges of the
mattress with white-knuckled intensity, he rubbed sweaty
palms on his thighs. A dull pressure throbbed behind his
eyes and the jittery feeling returned with a vengeance,
vibrating through his tense body. He desperately wished
Scully would come back, hating the little-boy feeling of
insecurity.

A nurse carrying a stainless steel tray pushed open the door
with her hip and smiled at him. He tried to smile back, but
the tray's contents drew his attention like steel to a magnet.

"Hi, Mr. Mulder, I'm Lisa. Dr. Brewer asked me to give
you this B12 injection and draw some blood. Do you have a
preference?"

"What?" His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he
felt lightheaded. When he forced himself to look at her, he
saw she was asking which arm to use. "Um. Doesn't
matter."

"All right, then. I'll make this as quick and painless as I
can."

Soft rubber wrapped around his upper arm. He smelled the
acrid bite of alcohol, felt cool wetness rub briskly over the
crook of his elbow. A small pop, the cap coming off the
hypodermic. Light glinting off the wickedly sharp needle.
He stared at it, respiration doubling.

*Sharp, bright, stabbing agony. Needles in his arms, in his
legs, in his neck. Blood, bright crimson, snaking through
clear tubing and pooling in a large glass flask. His blood,
pulsing, filling the container. Pumping. Heart pounding.
NO! Move! Fight! Eyes--curious, watching, waiting.
Scully! Help me! Bleeding. Ohgodohgod. So much blood.
Can't move. Can't fight. Tired. So tired. Weight on his
chest. Sinking. Fading. Scully. Please. No...*

"NO!"

Mulder fought back.


Continued in Chapter 11

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Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (11/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown Medical
Monday
11:43 AM


"Give it to me straight."

Scully looked at the exam room door, then into Brewer's
piercing blue eyes. "Considering what he's been through--"

"Straight, Dana. Save the bullshit for the Feds."

She folded her arms, then, recognizing the defensive body
language, dropped them to her sides. "What do you want
from me, Nick?"

"The truth. He's my patient, and after all we've been
through I consider you both friends. I need to know how
he's really doing, and not just physically."

A nurse squeezed past them and into the exam room.
"You're going to get the same results on that blood test,"
Scully warned. "The anomalous levels of lymphocytes and
glucocorticoids--all classic symptoms of prolonged
exposure to a weightless environment."

Nick rubbed the back of his neck. "Give me a break, Dana.
You two have knocked enough dents into my worldview
for one day. And don't change the subject."

"I think you can guess how he's doing, Nick. The x-rays,
the MRI--the evidence speaks for itself. For three months
they systematically tortured Mulder. The physical marks
may have healed, but not the wounds to his spirit." She
shook her head. "Lack of appetite. Nightmares. Panic
attacks. Every time he regains a memory the backlash is
more intense, the repercussions more severe."

"Sounds like textbook PTSD. He's got to talk to someone,
Dana."

"I'm not the one that needs convincing. You heard him."

"Yeah. Hate to say it, but he's got a point. Your average
shrink is going to reach for the commitment papers five
minutes after Mulder starts talking."

"Which leave us right back where we started. How do we
get him the help he needs without--"

A cry of panic and a shrill scream filled the air. The clatter
of metal and crash of broken glass immediately followed.
Scully and Brewer bolted for the exam room.

Glass crunched and popped under Scully's feet as she ran
into the room. A metal tray dangled from a shattered
cabinet door. Reduced to shards, hypodermic needles and
glass vials lay glittering on the floor. The nurse shivered
and pressed herself against the wall. Blood oozed through
her fingers as she pressed them to her nose.

"He's crazy," she sobbed, swiping at mascara-tinted tears
when Brewer crouched down beside her. "He was a little
freaked when I gave him the injection, but he went ballistic
when I tried to draw blood--yelling, throwing things. He
*hit* me, knocked me down."

"Calm down, Traci. You're all right."

"You didn't tell me he was dangerous. He belongs upstairs,
not down here with..."

Scully scanned the room. The girl's sobs and Nick's
soothing reassurances faded to the background. Small as
the area was, moments passed before she spied him, folded
up in a corner behind a crash cart and a rack of medical
supplies. Knees clasped to his chest, head buried in his
arms, he rocked back and forth.

"Mulder?"

Keeping her movements slow and deliberate, she got down
on the floor and eased herself into his personal space,
talking quietly in soothing tones.

"Mulder, it's me. You're all right. You're safe. No one is
going to hurt you."

Mulder tightened his arms, rocking faster. He shook his
head without lifting his face from its protective cradle.
"Leave me alone. I know you're not her. Just...just leave me
alone."

"Mulder, listen to me. I--"

"NO!"

She recoiled, scrambling back a few feet, but Mulder
simply clamped both hands over his ears. He trembled,
teeth chattering. "Please, stop. I can't...No more. No more."

Nick touched her shoulder and crouched down. "Traci went
to get cleaned up. I convinced her we shouldn't call
security. Am I wrong?"

"No! The last thing he needs is a stranger manhandling
him, Nick. It would push him over the edge."

"Not a far trip from where I'm sitting." Despite his harsh
words, Nick's eyes radiated concern. "Dana, you have to
get him calmed down. I can't keep people out of here for
long, especially once Traci starts running off at the mouth.
I'll get a sedative--"

Scully shook her head, never taking her gaze off Mulder. "I
already considered that, but it's no good, Nick. I'm pretty
sure needles are what triggered this episode. If I approach
him with a syringe..."

"Shit. You're right." Nick ran his fingers through his hair
until it stood on end. "Okay, this is your call. What do you
want me to do?"

"Leave us alone. Keep everyone out of here for at least five
minutes. I know I can break through to him; I just need a
little more time."

Nick made a face. "I'm not so sure that's a good plan,
kiddo. He's dissociative. He already took out one of my
nurses--what if he becomes violent?"

"He wouldn't hurt me. I'll be fine." She knew it was a lie,
but tipped her chin up, looking Nick straight in the eye.

"Okay. Five minutes. But I'll be right outside, listening. If I
hear anything..."

"I can handle this. Trust me."

"Just don't make me sorry I did."

"I won't. And Nick? Turn off the lights on your way out."

Nick froze, halfway to the door. "What?"

"You heard me. I've got an idea. Just--"

"Yeah, yeah. Trust you." Nick held his hand over the light
switch for a long moment before flicking it off and leaving
the room.

The sudden darkness was disorienting. Scully waited as her
eyes gradually adjusted. The exam room had no windows,
but light from the hallway filtered in through a frosted pane
in the door. Eventually she could detect the shadowy
outline of Mulder's body and the glitter of his eyes. He'd
ceased rocking, but she could still sense his shivering.

"What...what's happening?"

"The light is gone, Mulder. The aliens are gone. There's just
you and me. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut. "Blood. So much blood. I
can't--"

"It was a memory, Mulder. Just a memory. They hurt you,
hurt you terribly, but it's over and you're safe. I'm right
here, love. Come back to me."

Mulder's voice rasped with sorrow. "They won't let me
go...keep bringing me back. Please...don't let them bring me
back."

Scully swallowed, her throat tight. "They can't hold you
any more. See? The light is gone. You're free. You're safe."

"Sc...Scully?"

Thank God. Scully inched closer, tentatively stroking her
fingers through his hair. "I'm right here, Mulder. Right
here."

He reached up and latched onto her hand with a bone-
crushing grip. "I can't go back in there, Scully."

"Shh. You don't have to." She tugged on his hand,
maneuvering him into her arms.

At first it was like hugging a board--Mulder held himself
stiffly, resisting her stroking hands and soothing words. He
was too weak to hold out for long. Little by little he relaxed
into her rocking, his head heavy on her shoulder.

"Sorry." He muttered the word into the crook of her neck,
his lashes feathering against the sensitive skin. "Think I
scared the shit out of that nurse."

Scully carded her fingers through his hair, relieved to hear
the wry humor despite an underlying tremor. "Let's just say
she probably won't be joining the Fox Mulder fan club."

Mulder sat up, extricating himself from her embrace.
"There's a club?"

Damn his resiliency. He was already recovering, shoring up
his defenses and sliding the mask firmly into place.

The door cracked open and Nick slipped inside, no more
than a shadowy outline in the darkness. "Hey there,
Mulder. What's the word?"

"The word?" Mulder stood up and extended an unsteady
hand to Scully. "The word is I'm done assaulting nurses--at
least for today." He winced at his own bitterness. "You can
turn on the lights, Nick."

Nick flicked the switch and they all stood blinking against
the abrupt brilliance. Propping one hip on the counter and
folding his arms, Nick examined Mulder from head to toe.
"You want to tell us what that was all about?"

Mulder shrugged. "You know us big, tough FBI agents.
We're all cowards when it comes to needles."

"Oh, I'm familiar with the type. It's just that the typical
response is to faint, not give the nurse a bloody nose."

Mulder looked away and clenched his jaw. "I'll say it again-
-you've got a hell of a bedside manner, Nick."

"Look, I'm not trying to add to what I'm sure is a
formidable stockpile of guilt. But I won't play let's pretend,
either. What happened just now will continue to happen. If
you don't get help dealing with the memories, they will eat
you alive. For God's sake, Mulder! Next time Dana might
be the one who draws your fire."

Mulder felt the words like a blow. He looked into Scully's
face, hating the worry lines around her eyes and mouth.
The confession slipped out, quiet and broken. "She already
has."

Scully hooked her little finger through his. "Did I just hear
a breakthrough?"

"What do you want from me?"

Nick motioned for him to sit. "Sharing what you
remembered is a start."

*Blood, bright crimson, snaking through clear tubing and
pooling in a large glass flask.*

The room was shrinking, and the walls pressed inward,
stealing his breath. Mulder shrugged free of Scully's grasp.
Wrapping his arms around himself, he paced a restless
circle, finally settling with his back against a wall.

"I must have been hallucinating. I don't see how it could be
a true memory."

"What triggered it? The needle?" Scully asked.

Her mild, placating tone made Mulder feel like screaming.
Anger mixed with the panic until it was difficult to separate
one from the other. Mulder pinched the skin under his
fingertips, using pain to drive back dark, irrational
emotions.

"The needle started things rolling. But it was the sight of
blood...my blood..." He tried licking his lips but didn't have
enough spit. "I have this crazy image of them...taking my
blood."

Scully and Brewer exchanged glances. "It's very possible,
even likely, you lost some blood, Mulder. Your CBC
indicated mild anemia, which--"

"You're not listening to me." Mulder snarled the rebuke,
startled by the force of his own anger. He pinched himself
again, twisting hard. "They didn't take *some* of my blood.
They took *all* of it."

Nick frowned. "But that's...there's no way you'd be--"

"I know how it sounds, damn it! But I'm telling you, the
flashback was crystal clear. I could see it, feel it. And I
would swear..."

*Weight on his chest. Sinking. Fading.*

As he caught himself sliding down the wall, he straightened
his buckling legs. Scully started toward him, but stopped.
Her entire body tensed with the strain of respecting his
need for distance. She blinked back tears and drew a shaky
breath.

"What? You would swear what, Mulder?"

Oh, God, he didn't want to think about this, and he sure as
hell didn't want to talk about it. He shook his head, denying
Scully's urging and Nick's stunned disbelief. He knew he
was breathing too fast, could feel the chill of
hyperventilation tingling through his extremities, but
couldn't stop. Looking around the room, searching for some
kind of distraction, he saw the two syringes, one partially
filled with blood.

His blood.

*The bright red flow slows to a steady trickle. His eyes
slide shut, the lids too heavy to resist. Fluttering like a
butterfly's wings, his heart races. Falters. Stills. And then
he breaks free, soaring above the pain, the fear. Reaching
for peace and warmth, and a brilliance more beautiful than
his mind can comprehend. Maybe this time, he thinks. God,
if you're really there, help me. Please, please make them let
me go...*

"Mulder!"

He heard a sharp crack, and heat flooded his cheek. Mulder
tumbled back into his body, gasping. He was propped
against the wall, ass on the linoleum--again. Scully knelt
between his legs, peering anxiously into his eyes. She
flinched when he raised a trembling hand to his stinging
cheek.

"Are you all right?"

God, he was tired of that question. "I'm not sure."

"You stopped breathing." Nick crouched down beside
Scully, who was taking his pulse and checking his pupils.
"Scared the hell out of us. Must have been some
flashback."

He shivered, grateful when Scully stopped playing doctor
and warmed his icy fingers with her own. "What happened,
Mulder?"

"I remembered some more." The images faded but
stubbornly clung to the corners of his mind.

"Tell me."

He swallowed, his dry throat clicking. "I died, Scully. I
died again, and again, and again."


Continued in Chapter 12


Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (12/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Monday
1:16 PM


Grey had logged onto the computer and was wading
through 156 new emails when he heard a key rattle in the
lock. Deleting three more pieces of SPAM, he listened with
one ear as Dana and Fox entered the apartment.

"Go and sit on the couch, Mulder."

"I'm thirsty. Damn stuff always gives me dry mouth."

"Here, give me those. I--" The metallic clatter of keys
hitting the hardwood floor, followed by Dana's
longsuffering sigh. "Mulder."

"Sorry."

"I'll get you some juice. Just go sit down before you fall
down."

Grey swiveled in his chair, watching his brother walk to the
couch. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if
concentrating on each step.

"Hey. How was the appointment?"

Fox listed a little to the left as he turned and sank into the
cushions. He dropped his head onto the back of the couch.
"Eye-opening." He smirked, the corners of his mouth
turning up.

Okaaaay. Grey regarded the relaxed sprawl and serene
demeanor. If he didn't know better... He leaned closer and
peered into his brother's eyes. Sure enough, the pupils were
abnormally dilated.

Dana emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tall glass of
apple juice. She placed it into Fox's hand, steadying it
before she let go. Meeting Grey's inquisitive stare, she
subtly shook her head.

"I saw that." Fox sipped his juice, gaze moving between the
two of them. "Just because I'm stoned doesn't mean I'm
oblivious."

Grey frowned. "You're stoned?"

"Oh yeah."

Grey looked at Dana. "What the hell happened?"

"Standard procedure for any patient who assaults his
nurse." Mulder saluted with his glass and apple juice nearly
sloshed over the rim.

Scully rescued it and set it on the coffee table. "I think Nick
was a little heavy handed with the Valium."

Mulder grinned goofily. "Good stuff. Even my bones are
relaxed."

"Could we please go back to the bit about the nurse?" Grey
didn't disguise the edge in his voice.

"I had a little flashback. No, wait--strike that. Biiiiig
flashback. A 'somebody call the guys in the white coats'
flashback." Mulder snuffled a laugh.

"While you were at the hospital?"

"Knocked Nurse Nancy clear across the room. Bet she
didn't expect that when she came to work this morning.
Nursing: It's not just a job, it's an adventure."

Grey recognized the guilt lurking beneath the sarcasm. "Is
she all right?"

Dana sat beside Fox, resting one hand on his leg. "*Traci*
is fine, more shaken up than anything. Nick calmed her
down, explained the situation."

Mulder threw an arm over his eyes. "Probably something
along the lines of 'Don't mind him. Ever since he was
abducted and tortured by aliens he just hasn't been
himself.'"

"Mulder."

"Sorry."

Dana tugged his arm away from his face. "You are
traumatized, Mulder. Not crazy. There's a big difference."

Fox blew out a long breath and looked at her with ancient
eyes. "Somehow I don't think Traci sees it that way."

"Considering what you think happened--"

"Not think. *Know*."

"--your reaction is perfectly understandable."

Grey raised his hand. "Yoohoo. Remember me? The guy
who couldn't buy a clue?"

Dana looked at Fox, who extended his hand. She pursed her
lips and thought for a moment before speaking. "Mulder
remembers them taking his blood."

"What, like vampires?"

Mulder snickered. "He's come such a long way, hasn't he,
Scully? I'm so proud."

Dana glared at him. "More like the Red Cross."

"Except the Red Cross generally doesn't drain you dry."
Mulder yawned hugely, eyelids drooping.

"Drain you..." Grey trailed off. "But taking all your blood
would kill you."

"Give the man a cigar," Mulder mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Fox?"

"I died, Grey. Many times."

Grey looked at Scully. "How could that be?"

"How can we possibly guess what they're capable of? From
what we've seen, they can run circles around us
technologically. And, if we're to believe even a fraction of
the abduction accounts, they've been experimenting on
humans for years."

"Using humans as guinea pigs is one thing. But bringing
them back from the dead?"

"I understand the finality of death, Grey, it's in my damn
job description. For God's sake, we're talking about my
husband! Do you think this is easy for me?"

Grey mustered a weak smile. "I see your point." He took a
deep breath. "So you believe Fox is right? That this
flashback was a recovered memory?"

"It explains the x-rays, the MRI. It makes no sense that
Mulder survived such massive trauma."

"Because he didn't." Grey rubbed the back of his neck,
unable to soothe the tension. "Dear God, Fox, no wonder
you needed the Valium. I could use a hit myself."

"He dropped off a moment ago." Smiling, Dana stroked a
lock of hair from Mulder's eyes. "He really needs a
haircut." She stood and collected the half-filled glass of
juice. "I don't know about you, but since Valium's not an
option I think I'll take a cup of coffee."

Grey hauled himself upright. "You just going to leave him
like that?"

"Leave him this moment of peace, Grey. Knowing Mulder,
he won't be out for long."

Grey sat at the kitchen table, watching Scully set up the
coffee maker. She moved with competent efficiency,
shoulders straight hands busy. He propped his chin on one
fist and studied her from the corner of his eye.

"Want to tell me about it?"

Dana faltered, spilling coffee grounds on the counter. "No,"
she said, reaching for a sponge.

"Why not? Dana, I can see this scared the hell out of you.
Talk to me."

She didn't move for a moment, then dropped the sponge
into the sink. After taking a long look into the living room,
she joined Grey at the table. Leaning in close, she pitched
her voice just above a whisper.

"This was worse than anything we've seen so far. He was
out of it for at least five minutes, Grey. I was terrified
someone would call psych services and he'd wind up
admitted. Thank God, Nick keeps a calm head in a crisis."

"What provoked this? Were you there when it happened?"

"Nick wanted a blood sample."

"Oh, God."

"We'd stepped into the hallway to talk. I saw the nurse go
into the exam room, but it never occurred to me--"

"Of course it didn't. We both know flashbacks are highly
unpredictable."

"By the time I got back into the room, the nurse was on the
floor and Mulder was huddled in a corner babbling about
blood and begging 'them' to stop." She bit her lip, her eyes
misting with tears.

"How did you break through to him?"

"Luck, mostly. I figured the environment was contributing
to Mulder's delusion--the medical equipment, the smells,
the bright lights. So I asked Nick to turn out the lights and
sent him out of the room."

Grey sat up straight. "The light! That's how they
immobilized him."

Dana nodded. "Once the room was dark and we were alone,
he snapped out of it."

"Did Brewer have to sedate him? I hate seeing him like
that."

"After the flashback, when Mulder was telling us what he'd
remembered, it triggered some kind of panic attack."

"Like the one in the elevator?"

"Worse. Much worse." She pressed her fingers against
trembling lips. "He stopped breathing, Grey."

He shivered, goosebumps tingling his skin. "Stopped?"

"Just for a few seconds, but--"

"Dana, there's no 'just' to not breathing." Grey got up and
rummaged through the cupboard for two mugs. He poured
the coffee with unsteady hands and gave one to Dana.

"What are you thinking?" she asked as he gulped down the
hot brew.

"I'm thinking I'd like to string the little bastards up and give
them a taste of their own medicine." When she didn't
respond, he returned to the table. "What are you thinking?"

"That we've only seen the tip of the iceberg. That things
will likely get worse before they get better." She tipped her
chin up. "And that I will *not* lose him to this."

God, she was so much like Kate. Strong. Stubborn.
Tenacious as hell when it came to protecting the ones she
loved.

"I'm right there with you, darlin'."

"At least something positive came from the whole mess. I
think Mulder finally realizes he needs help."

"Sometimes you have to hit bottom before you realize how
far you've fallen."

"Sounds like the voice of experience."

Grey rolled the cup between his palms. "When Kate died,
I...lost myself for a while. I suppose it was inevitable. For
months I'd eaten and rested just enough to keep
functioning. Taking care of Kate, being there for her in
every way possible, had become my whole life. And then
she was gone, and I felt as if a big piece of me went with
her."

Dana rested her hand on his arm. "Your partner used the
word 'decimated.' He said he feared you might never pull
out of it."

"It felt as if I'd fallen into a deep hole. I could see light up
above, but it was too far away and I was too damn tired to
climb back out. Mark and the other guys at work, my
family--they tried everything they could think of to reach
me. But it wasn't enough. I just kept falling."

"What happened?"

A memory flickered through his mind--waking up on the
bedroom floor surrounded by old photos and empty beer
bottles, a headache pounding behind his eyes, a terrible
taste in his mouth, and his gun clutched in one hand.
"Probably the same thing that happened to Fox--I scared
the hell out of myself. I finally had to acknowledge how
deep I'd gotten."

He sighed, grinding the heel of one hand into his eye. "I
started attending a support group for people who'd lost
loved ones to cancer. And I quit shutting myself off from
friends and family." He chuffed. "Well, I tried."

Dana squeezed his arm. "I'm glad you turned things around.
And that they got better."

"I'll be honest with you, Dana. Things didn't get better--not
at first. For a very long time the only thing getting me out
of bed each morning was pigheaded stubbornness." He
smiled. "And knowing Kate would've kicked my ass six
ways to Sunday if I'd given up."

Dana sipped her coffee, smiling around the rim of the cup.
"Well, the stubbornness seems to be hereditary. And I think
the two of us can provide the ass kicking."

"Got that right." Grey sobered. "All I'm saying is that we
shouldn't set the bar too high. After what Fox has gone
through...well... Let's just say running is highly overrated.
Sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other is a
major victory."

"You know, you..."

The phone trilled, cutting off her reply. Scully grabbed for
the receiver, catching it on the second ring.

"Hello?" She stiffened her spine, turning her full attention
to the caller. "You did?...Are you sure?...What do you
mean, Langly *thinks* --either it is or it isn't..."

Fox appeared in the doorway, rumpled and glassy-eyed.
"Who's Scully talking to?"

"Sounds like Byers or Frohike."

"Byers and Frohike don't sound anything alike."

"Uh...yeah. Why don't you come and sit down?" Grey
nudged a chair from the table with his foot, keeping an eye
on his brother and an ear on Dana.

"All right. All right! I'll be there in a few minutes...Yes...In
your dreams, Frohike."

Well, that answered that question.

Scully hung up and looked at Mulder, slumped in his chair.
"That was the guys. They've been playing with that funny
rock you found, Mulder, and they think they've figured out
what it is. I'm going over there now."

Mulder caught her arm as she stood, much of the sleepiness
fading from his eyes. "You said they figured it out. What is
it?"

"They're speculating, Mulder. You know those three--
Langly still thinks metal detectors are--"

"Scully. What is it?"

She searched his face, uncertain. When he stared back at
her, fingers tightening, she sighed. "They say it's a tracking
device, Mulder. That it called the ship that abducted you."


Continued in Chapter 13

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (13/21)
By Dawn


Lone Gunmen Headquarters
Monday
2:59 PM

Scully shut off the engine but didn't move, staring out the
window at the Gunmen's scratched and pitted door. Curling
her fingers more tightly around the steering wheel, she
sighed and slowly turned toward Mulder. He was out cold,
his head pressed against the passenger window, breath
fogging the glass.

"Are you okay?" Grey braced his arms on the seatback,
frowning.

"No." She couldn't tear her eyes from Mulder's face--pale,
gaunt, but peaceful. "I don't think I'm going to be okay for
quite some time."

Grey squeezed her shoulder, his long fingers massaging
tense muscles. "One foot in front of the other, darlin'. " He
got out of the car but leaned back inside. "You'd better
wake Sleeping Beauty or I'm gonna get an armful when I
open his door."

"In your dreams, Bubba." Mulder sat up, wincing, and
rolled his shoulders.

Grey tugged open Mulder's door. "Well, hey there, Fox.
Nice of you to join us."

Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. "Water?"

Scully pulled a bottle from the cup holder. He drained half
the contents and replaced the cap, smirking a little at Grey,
who was shuffling his feet and rubbing his hands.

"Either he's really got to pee or he's freezing his ass off.
Either way, we'd better go."

Mulder leaned against the side of the building and listened
to the shotgun pop of disengaging locks, bemused that he
found such a paranoid sound comforting. The door finally
swung open and he followed Scully inside.

"Hey, Hickey. Long time no--" His glib greeting cut off in
a grunt as Frohike grabbed him in a bear hug.

"Mulder. Thought we'd lost you, buddy."

The genuine emotion in the man's voice made Mulder's
throat hurt. Blinking stinging eyes, he awkwardly patted
Frohike's shoulder. "How many times do I have to tell you,
Melvin? Not in front of Scully."

"Hey, look who's here! Mulder, my man. You look
like...crap. Ow!" Langly rubbed his side and glared at
Frohike. "What was that for?"

"You look like crap?"

"He does!"

Byers stepped around his bickering friends and clasped
Mulder's hand. "Welcome back, Mulder. Things weren't the
same without you."

Mulder returned the pressure. "That's supposed to be a
compliment--right?"

"Who else was there to fuel their conspiracy theories?"
Scully said dryly. "Face it Mulder--you're a paranoid's wet
dream."

"I love it when she talks dirty," Frohike moaned.

Scully rolled her eyes. "Langly? The rock?"

"Over here." Langly led them to a workbench littered with
computers and other assorted equipment. Mulder's "rock"
lay in one of the few uncluttered spaces. "We started
working on it as soon as your bro' dropped it by this
morning," he said with a nod to Grey. "First off, it's not a
rock."

Mulder leaned over Langly's shoulder. "Not exactly a news
flash."

"We ran a bunch of tests on the material and came up
empty."

"What does that mean?" Grey asked.

Frohike looked at him over the top of his glasses. "It means
it's not made from any known substance--on this planet
anyway."

"It's harder than steel," Byers chimed in. "We took a blow
torch to it. It didn't even get warm."

"Yeah, but it heats up when you hold it." Frohike shook his
head. "Weirdness."

"Heats up? The damn thing nearly burnt through my palm."
Mulder rubbed his thumb over the healed flesh.

"You're taking this well, Mulder. Gotta admit, I'd be
freaking," Langly said.

"I'm on very good drugs."

"Cool."

"You said you think it called the ship that abducted Mulder.
How?" Scully asked.

Langly dragged a piece of equipment closer and turned it
on with a flick of his thumb. "This is a type of oscilloscope.
It measures sound frequency. We borrowed it from a
friend."

"You are probably aware that sound, put simply, is a
vibration through an elastic solid, a liquid or a gas," Byers
said. "Sound waves travel outward in all directions from
the source."

Mulder nodded. "Frequency is a measure of the vibrations
per second."

"Exactly. We express frequency in Hertz, which
corresponds directly to the pitch of a sound. Optimally,
people can hear from 20 to 20,000 Hertz."

"Let me guess. You're going to tell me this thing," Mulder
gestured to the rock, "is emitting sound undetectable to the
human ear."

"Good guess," Langly replied.

Grey frowned at the oscilloscope. "That thing's on, right? I
mean, I can see it registering our voices. So where's the
sound waves from the rock?"

Frohike looked gleeful. "Pick it up."

"Huh?"

"Somebody pick it up."

Scully lifted the rock. Immediately, the oscilloscope sped
up, the display registering 30 kHz. Startled, she dropped it
back onto the counter and the readout fell to zero.

"Wow," Grey breathed. He tentatively extended a hand
and, after a moment's hesitation, picked up the rock.

This time the machine jumped to nearly 45 kHz. Frohike
whistled, shaking his head as they all stared at the reading.
After a moment Grey released the rock and let it tumble
back onto the bench. Hissing, he rubbed his palm.

"Damn it! That thing burns!"

"It never got hot for any of us." Langly poked the rock with
one finger. "And our readings were around 30 kHz, like
Scully's."

Silence, then five pairs of eyes fastened on Mulder. He
licked his lips.

"Guess this is where I'm supposed to give it a try."

"Mulder, wait." Scully put her hand on his arm, holding
him in place. "I'm not so sure you should touch that thing.
If it is some kind of calling device..."

"Damn straight! We all know what happened last time,"
Grey muttered.

Mulder stared at the rock. The thought that such an
innocuous package could conceal advanced technology
both fueled his curiosity and sent a flicker of apprehension
to the pit of his stomach.

"There's no other way." He looked at the others, his face set
in a blank, emotionless mask. "We need to know--*I* need
to know--whether this thing is responsible for landing me
in hell. We can postulate and theorize from here to next
week, but the only way to be sure requires empirical
evidence."

He started forward but Scully clamped down harder.
"Mulder."

"Scully." He searched her tired, careworn features for
understanding. "I *have* to know."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded and
released his arm. Grey stepped aside and Mulder moved up
to the bench. Sucking in a deep breath, he picked up the
rock.

*Light blinds him, tearing through his body like knives,
pinning him in place. He sees Grey as if from a great
distance, face deathly pale, eyes wide with shock, fear. He
strains every muscle in his body, desperate to move, to
touch, to grab hold of the man who has been his anchor so
many times in the past.

"Help me!" The scream echoes in the silence of his mind.
"Please, Grey. Don't let them take me!"

His stubborn determination actually pays off--just a twitch
of his little finger, but the surge of hope makes his heart
lurch. The light pulses brighter, white-hot agony erupting
along every nerve ending like fire. Black spots explode
across his vision, then everything goes dark.

Awareness seeps slowly into his muddled brain. White.
Everywhere. Walls, floor, ceiling--sterile, featureless. No
windows. No door. No clothes. Light is everywhere and
nowhere. He stands, back pressed against a wall, head
throbbing.

"I know for a fact I never said 'Beam me up, Scotty.'"

His voice echoes, bouncing off the walls. He shivers,
despite the room's warmth. Wrapping his arms around his
body he crouches down. Waiting.

He knows they're watching. Can feel eyes studying his
every sound, every movement with cool, dispassionate
interest. Sometimes he talks to them. Sometimes he curses
them. More and more often, he pleads with them. It doesn't
matter--the response is the same.

Nothing.

Time passes--he's not sure how much. There is no day, no
night. Just the relentless brilliance of artificial light. He
knows hunger and thirst. Shame when he breaks down and
relieves himself in a corner. And loneliness like a cancer,
devouring him from the inside out. Shattering his false
bravado, stripping away his resistance.

By the time a door materializes in the wall he's desperate to
hear a voice, see a face. Even alien.

When his captor steps inside, he gasps and stumbles
backward, recognizing his folly.

There are worse things than loneliness.*

"Mulder! Look at me, Mulder."

Scully's voice, sharp with fear brought him back. Mulder
blinked and the white room melted away, sounds and
images filtering in and replacing it. Scully's face was inches
from his own; her rapid puffs of breath tickled his cheek.
There was something cold and hard beneath him, and
something warm and yielding against his back. Pain, like
liquid fire, seared the palm of his hand.

"Mulder?"

"What happened?" He croaked the question.

Scully wilted. Mulder scanned his surroundings and found
that he was huddled on the floor with Scully crouched in
front of him while Grey supported him from behind.

"You had another flashback," Scully said, checking first
one pupil and then the other. "It started as soon as you
picked up the stone."

Mulder slowly lifted his right hand. Blisters were already
forming on the palm, and finger-shaped bruises encircled
the wrist.

"Sorry." Grey's apology held a tremor. "You froze up. That
thing was burning your hand--I had to force you to drop it."

Mulder recognized his role in this little drama and knew the
script by heart. It was time to make a smart ass remark and
shrug off Grey's gentle hold.

He couldn't do it.

Reawakened memories, terrifying in their clarity,
pummeled him like physical blows. Light. Hunger.
Despair. Fear. Oh, God, ignorance really was bliss. He
shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Grey tightened the arm around his chest; Scully cupped his
cheek.

"It's okay, Mulder. Just relax."

He concentrated on breathing--nice, deep, even breaths that
filled his lungs and settled his jangling nerves. Listening to
Scully and Grey repeat a litany of reassurances.

It's over.

You're home.

You're safe.

We're here.

After several minutes he opened his eyes and sat forward.
Grey had climbed to his feet and extended a helping hand
before Mulder unfolded his wobbly legs.

"Come sit on the couch, Mulder." Scully's tone allowed no
refusal. "I need to dress that burn."

She guided him to the ratty sofa and sat beside him. Byers
handed her a first aid kit while Langly and Frohike hovered
nearby, looking at Mulder with an uneasy mixture of worry
and fear.

Mulder sighed. "Guess this proves it. I really am a 'ticking
time bomb of insanity.'" He scowled at the Gunmen.
"Would you three lighten up? That was a joke."

Scully pulled his hand into her lap. "How about telling us
what you remembered?"

He focused on her hands as she smoothed antibiotic cream
over his palm and covered it with gauze. Bright, white light
flickered at the edges of his vision, but he ignored it.

"I...ah..." He cleared his throat, realizing his mouth was
desert dry.

A hand holding a water bottle appeared before his eyes. He
looked up into Frohike's concerned face before accepting it
with a grateful nod. The little man inclined his head, a
smile softening the grim lines around his eyes and mouth.

Mulder drank deeply, everyone's watchful eyes an
uncomfortable reminder of another, less pleasant time. He
bounced one leg, then the other, the all-too-familiar post-
flashback jitters earning him a frown from Scully.

Grey perched on the arm of the couch. "It can wait, Fox.
Take all the time you need."

He cleared his throat again. "I remembered what happened
right after I was taken...and something else."

Haltingly, he recounted the details of the flashback. Scully,
Grey, and the Gunmen listened without interruption,
though their faces looked pale and strained. When Mulder
reached the part where his captors finally showed
themselves, he clenched his jaw.

"It was him, Scully. The alien bounty hunter. He was the
one in charge, the first one through the door."

Scully ran her thumb over the back of his bandaged hand.
"I guess that explains how they knew to use me against
you."

"The bastard smiled at me." Mulder rubbed his forehead, a
dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. "He said, 'We've been
waiting for you, Agent Mulder.'"

He looked up in time to catch Scully, Grey, and the
Gunmen exchanging glances. "What?"

"When you picked up the rock, the oscilloscope went off
the scale," Scully said. "It was emitting more than 80 kHz
and hot enough to blister your hand."

He was so damn tired, his brain sluggish and
uncooperative. Obviously he was missing something, but
what?

"So?"

"It didn't react that way for the rest of us. Well, your bro'
got a little bit of a rise out of it," Langly amended. "But for
you--dude, it went nuts."

"The device is keyed to respond to a specific body
chemistry," Byers said.

We've been waiting for you, Agent Mulder.

Mulder tensed, eyes widening. "Mine."


Continued in Chapter 14

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (14/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Monday
9:37 PM


"Hey." Scully watched with curved lips and tender eyes as
Mulder shuffled across the room and collapsed onto the
couch. The worn, navy sweatpants rode low on his hips,
and she could see the outline of his collarbone through his
tee shirt. With his hair tousled and pale cheeks slightly
flushed from sleep, he looked remarkably like a toddler just
woken from a long nap.

"Hey." He ran a hand over his face and let out a gusty sigh.
"Where's Grey?"

"Well, when it became apparent you were down for the
count, he headed over to Kristen's so they could get
something to eat."

He darted a quick look at the clock. "Shit. She was coming
for dinner tonight, wasn't she?"

"We'll do it tomorrow. The steaks will keep."

He dropped his head onto the back of the couch. "Is there a
more worthless human being on the face of this planet?"

"Mulder."

"I thought not."

"Mulder, do I really have to say it?"

"Only if doing so gives you some intrinsic sense of
satisfaction."

She pursed her lips, but left it alone. "Did you sleep well?"

"I didn't wake up screaming, so I guess that would be a
yes." When Scully tensed, he reached for her hand and
wove their fingers together. "I'm sorry. I'm just so damn
tired of everything."

She scooted closer and he obligingly slipped an arm around
her shoulders, resting his cheek on her head. "Mulder. You
are the most driven person I've ever known. Do you
remember what I once told you? About your search for the
Truth?" She felt him smile.

"I think it involved me digging up the desert with shovel."

"Close enough." Scully slipped her hand under the tee shirt
and stroked warm skin, her voice low and pensive. "Once
you've set a goal, you push yourself beyond all reason to
achieve it. That intense, obsessive focus is precisely what
made you the best profiler in the Bureau's history. But it's
also why you crashed and burned."

Mulder tensed. "I thought I was the one with the psych
degree."

"You can't force this, Mulder. This isn't a conspiracy to be
uncovered or a criminal to be caught. Your body, your
mind--both need time to process the past three months."

He made an odd sound. Scully pulled away and looked into
his face, reading both anger and uncertainty in the lines
around his eyes and the tight set of his jaw. "What?" she
asked quietly. "Mulder, talk to me."

"Maybe I don't want to process--did that ever occur to
you?" He huffed. "Why would it? After all, Fox Mulder's
all-consuming passion is the truth. Who could predict that
one day he'd shuck his moral high-handedness and wish for
ignorance?"

She stared at him. "You don't want to remember."

Mulder just evaded her eyes, his throat working.

"You think I don't understand?"

Her words hung there, suspended between them, until
Mulder finally choked out a reply. "I'm the one who didn't
understand."

Pieces clicked into place. Scully laid her head back on his
shoulder. "That was different."

"How?" He sounded angry, bitter, but she knew the
emotions were directed inward and not toward her.

"We were in a different place. We'd barely scratched the
surface--not just of what was out there, but of what lay
between us."

"You can justify it all you like, Scully. But the fact is I
pushed you to remember. Hard. I was so...so *driven* to
discover the truth, I didn't stop and think about what that
discovery might do to you."

She closed her eyes, remembering her struggle between
fear and the desire to please him. Mulder wanted to plow
ahead, rock solid in his purpose, while her entire world was
tilting crazily on its axis and she could barely keep her feet.
Shamed by her apparent weakness, she'd wondered if
anything scared her seemingly fearless partner.

"You'll get through this, Mulder. You've never backed
down from a challenge in your life. This is just one more
opportunity for you to put that tenacity to use."

His lips twitched. "Tenacity. That's a lot more tactful than
pigheaded."

"Well, you've been back less than a week. The grace period
hasn't expired yet."

Mulder tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers
lingering on her cheek. "There's something there, Scully.
Buried deep. Something... It's bad."

She kept her voice steady. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with
it."

"Sure. We're good at dealing. Plenty of practice."

The weary reply, so close to her own thoughts of late, made
her stomach ache. Scully traced the outline of a rib with her
fingertips, feeling the angular hardness of bone beneath a
thin layer of flesh. "Sometimes it feels like a lifetime, not
just ten years."

"It's not the years. It's the mileage." Her smile at the
familiar quote faded when he continued, "I'm tired, Scully."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do. Scully, I don't know if..."

She gently untangled herself from his arms and sat up.
Mulder was chewing on his lower lip, his eyes red-rimmed
and over-bright. "Say it, Mulder."

"I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Scully smoothed her palm up and down his thigh as she
considered her response. Complete honesty won out.

"Neither do I." She shrugged at Mulder's raised brows. "I
didn't sleep well the last few months. A cold bed in the
middle of the night inspires reflection."

"About?"

"Life. Death. Whether chasing little green men and
unmasking vast, shadowy conspiracies is worth the price."

"Grey told me you fought to keep the X-Files open."

"Because I needed Bureau resources, Mulder. And because
it was the only piece of you I had left."

Mulder snagged her hand and enfolded it in his. When he
spoke again, it was with tender affection. "And what
revelations did this soul searching produce?"

"That the personal cost of our investigations inevitably
outweighs professional gain. That I don't give a damn about
finding the truth if it means losing you." She took a
calming breath, then continued. "When is it enough,
Mulder? There's so much more you need to do with your
life. So much more than this."

"There was a time when this work was everything, Scully.
It was all I had."

"I know. But things have changed."

"Have they? I look at Grey, and I see the life I might have
had--a normal job, the respect of peers, a warm, loving
family. But no matter how hard I try, I can't picture myself
in his shoes. And sometimes I resent the hell out of him for
that."

"What are you saying?"

He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm
saying that while the thought of getting back into the field
makes me break out in a cold sweat, I can't imagine doing
anything else. That while the damn job may no longer be
*all* I am, it's still a significant piece of *who* I am." He
shook his head. "Basically that I'm hopelessly fucked up."

The slight tremor in Mulder's hand and the ragged edge to
his voice convinced Scully that the conversation had gone
on long enough. She surreptitiously slid her fingers up to
his wrist and eyed her watch. "No, you're exhausted. We
can discuss this later. Now is not the time to make life-
altering decisions."

He snorted. "What *is* it the time for?"

"Tea."

"*Tea?* " He jerked his wrist from her grasp, wise to the
subterfuge. "Stop that. I'm fine."

"Yes, tea. I'm going to make myself a cup. Want some?"

"See, I would have sworn now was the time for coffee."
Scully looked levelly at him until he broke. "Fine. I'll have
tea." He said it with all the enthusiasm of an inmate
marching to the electric chair.

Scully stood and smiled down at him. Reaching down, she
fingered a tumbled lock of his too-long hair and then
smoothed it back from his forehead. Mulder caught hold of
her wrist and they locked eyes as he drew her down to
straddle his lap. Scully licked her lips, warmth tingling
through her limbs and pooling in her belly. More than three
months...

Mulder brushed his mouth across hers, tracing her lower lip
with the tip of his tongue and then nibbling gently. She
sighed, winding her fingers into the hair at his nape and
opening to him, welcoming him home. The melted
together, kisses deep and slow and tender. Then Mulder's
hands slipped under her sweatshirt to cup her breasts, and
her world narrowed to the exquisite sensations of his
tongue gliding against hers and his thumbs stroking her
nipples. She rocked her hips, jolted back to reality when
she realized Mulder's level of arousal didn't quite match her
own.

Mulder broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers.
"Sorry. The spirit is willing..."

"It's okay." She kissed him again, exploring every nook and
cranny in his mouth and leaving him panting for breath
before she was finished. "It can wait."

"I can't," Mulder grumbled. "No coffee, no sex..."

She stared at the jutting lip and smoldering eyes and a lump
filled her throat. How many hospitals, morgues, police
stations had she haunted, hoping against hope for another
glimpse of that beloved face? How many nights had she
curled up alone in bed, praying next time...please, God,
next time let it be him?

"Scully?" Now Mulder was staring at her, eyes soft with
concern.

Scully blinked, surprised when moisture trickled down her
cheek. She brushed the tears away with a knuckle and
smiled. "I'm just really glad you're home."

"Me, too." He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her
head under his chin. "One thing I do remember, Scully.
You were the only thing that kept me going. When things
got bad, really bad..." He tightened his arms until she was
crushed against his chest, his rapid heartbeat thudding
under her ear. "I knew they were messing with my head,
that it wasn't really you. But sometimes, when I was
whacked out with pain and sleep deprivation, I wanted to
believe it was."

Scully turned her face into the soft, cotton tee shirt,
breathing in Mulder's musky, comforting scent. "And
sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd close my eyes and
imagine you spooned up behind me, your warmth along my
back, the whisper of your breath on my neck."

Mulder pressed a kiss to her temple. "Did it help?"

"Not much." She lifted her head and smiled. "There's no
substitute for the real thing."

"Hey, at least your substitute wasn't playing Dr. Mengele."
When Scully stiffened, he grimaced. "Sorry. Guess that was
in poor taste. I'm just whistling in the dark."

The front door creaked open, then banged shut, and Grey
breezed into the room. "I won't be surprised if we get snow
tonight; it's cold as a witch's elbow out there." He blinked.
"Uh, would y'all prefer I drive around the block a few
times?"

"Nah, have a seat. I've always been an exhibitionist at
heart," Mulder deadpanned.

Scully punched his arm and eased off his lap. "I'm making
tea."

Grey smirked. "Really? Must be a whole new brewing
method."

She folded her arms. "Can I get you a cup?"

"Thanks."

He stripped off his coat and plopped down beside his
brother. "I take it you're feeling better."

"Than what?" When Grey lifted his hands, palms out, he
tempered the sharp reply. "Let's just say I'm better than I
was, but not as good as I'd hoped to be. According to
Scully, I'm a work in progress. How's Kristen?"

"She's good. She said to tell you she hopes you're feeling
better, but if you cancel out on dinner tomorrow night she's
taking the steak to go."

Mulder chuffed but didn't reply. They sat without speaking,
listening to clinking glassware and thudding cupboard
doors as Scully moved about the kitchen, humming quietly.

"What's it like, Grey? Having a normal life?" Mulder was
barely aware he'd verbalized his thoughts.

Grey snorted, scrutinizing Mulder's face as if trying to
gauge his sincerity. "Well, I don't know, Fox. Why don't
you ask somebody who has one?" He shook his head.
"What in hell gave you the mistaken impression that my
life is anything approaching normal?"

"I make my living chasing little green men, mutants, and
other freaks of nature. I've been shot, frozen, set on fire,
gnawed, infected, possessed, and brainwashed. I just spent
three months on a spaceship with alien shapeshifters that
obviously mistook me for a human guinea pig. Hell, my
conception was nothing but a great lab experiment."
Mulder tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling.
"Your life seems pretty damn normal to me."

"Fox." Much of the outrage had left Grey's voice. "My
biological parents sent me away--gave me to another family
like some kind of booby prize--because of a grand
conspiracy I never really understood. I make my living
chasing thieves, rapists, and murderers. I've been assaulted,
shot, and nearly lost my brother to a killer with a grudge
against me." He paused, then continued.

"I watched my wife die, eaten alive by a killer I couldn't
stop. All my training, all the lives I saved in the course of
my job, meant nothing. Losing her turned me into an
emotional cripple with commitment issues I'm still trying to
shake." He laughed quietly. "I'm a work in progress, too."

Mulder looked at his brother. "So you're telling me it's all
an illusion. You don't really have a normal life."

"I'm telling you no one does. Not if by 'normal' you mean
some kind of storybook fantasy where we all wind up
living in a house surrounded by a white picket fence, with a
beautiful wife and 2.5 kids. Life, by its very nature, is
abnormal." He smirked. "Yours is just farther off the scale
than most."

"That is the crappiest attempt at reassurance I've ever
heard." Mulder grinned in spite of himself.

Grey shrugged. "You want deep, turn on Oprah."

They were still when Scully returned with three mugs of
tea. She stopped, eyebrow arched. "Did I miss something?"

Mulder eyed Grey, then smiled up at her. "Just two equally
pathetic people sharing their fractured fairy tale lives. Care
to join us?"

She passed him a mug, smiling. "Move over, Mulder. From
the sound of it, I already have."


Continued in Chapter 15

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (15/21)
By Dawn


Bethesda
Thursday
10:28 AM


Mulder chewed his lower lip as he stared out the window,
his face expressionless. The house was small and
unassuming, red brick with neat black shutters, evergreens
bracketing the front door.

Grey shifted, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel
and then cleared his throat. "You're going to be late."

"This was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't. It's another step toward getting your life
back."

God, he was so tired of that gentle, handle-with-care tone.
"Don't patronize me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

Grey's question finally drew Mulder's gaze from the
building. "Not exactly, but.. I do think you and Scully
tend to treat me like I could shatter at any given moment."
He huffed, shaking his head. "Not that you don't have your
reasons."

Grey sighed, his lips curving into a rueful smile. "Look,
I'm not trying to tell you what to do. But while it may not
be my life, I've got a stake in it, Fox. And I don't imagine
you're happy with the way things have been going the past
few days."

"Gee, what was your first clue?" Mulder looked back at the
house. "I know why you pulled chauffeur duty."

"Hey, I had to arm wrestle Dana for this privilege." When
Mulder didn't smile, Grey sighed. "She just needed a little
break, Fox."

"You think I don't understand? I have eyes; I see what this
is doing to her. The flashbacks have only gotten worse, and
I never know what's going to trigger one." He raked his
fingers through his hair. "I can't even hold it together long
enough to get a damn hair cut."

"Which brings us back to my original point," Grey said
mildly. "You're gonna be late."

Mulder opened his mouth to argue, realized the futility, and
settled for a glare. "See you in an hour."

He felt Grey's eyes follow him as he strode to the front
door and pushed the bell. He folded his arms and waited,
deliberately ignoring the idling engine at his back.

"Door's open! Let yourself in." A woman's voice, faint but
cheerful.

Mulder tugged open the storm and saw that the front door
was, in fact, ajar. He stepped into the foyer and unzipped
his coat. To his left lay a small living room with very
modern, glass and chrome furnishings. To his right, a short
hallway, presumably leading to bedrooms. And straight
ahead, the sound of rattling pans and the rich aroma of
fresh-baked bread.

"You can hang up your coat and come on back."

Feeling more than a little surreal, Mulder followed orders.
He peeled off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then
made his way to the source of the voice--and the delicious
smell.

The kitchen was a scene of controlled chaos--dirty bowls
and pans overflowed in the sink and flour dusted the
countertops not occupied with cooling loaves. Propping a
shoulder against the doorframe, he watched as a sixty-
something woman with salt-and-pepper hair kneaded bread
dough.

"Dr. Shanley?"

"Agent Fox Mulder. At least, I hope that's who you are.
Otherwise I've just invited a stranger into my home."
Smiling, she offered a floury hand, then pulled it back.
"Guess that's not such a good idea. Have a seat, Fox. Can I
get you anything?"

Mulder claimed a chair at the small oak table. "How about
a different name?" At her raised eyebrow, he added, "I
don't use Fox. Just Mulder is fine."

"Got some issues, have we, Just Mulder?" She plunged
both hands back into the dough.

Mulder leaned back and folded his arms. "Oh, I'm a bundle
of issues, Dr. Shanley. Didn't Dr. Verber fill you in?"

"He gave me the basics. And please, call me Tomie."

"Excuse me?"

She chuckled. "Aye, ya heard right. Me da had his heart set
on havin' a son ta carry on the family name. Imagine his
surprise when wee Thomas Shanley the third turned out to
be a she." She dropped the brogue. "I officially shortened it
to Tomie the day I turned 21. I know all about issues,
believe me."

She collected several loaf pans and began parceling out the
dough. "How much have you remembered?"

The abrupt segue caught Mulder off guard. "Not enough."
He lifted his shoulders. "Too much."

"You were missing three months?"

"So I'm told."

"You weren't aware you'd been gone that long?"

"Time flies when you're having fun."

Shanley gave him a sharp look but simply picked up the
filled pans and carried them to the oven, a blast of hot air
washing over Mulder as she loaded them inside. She then
pulled a knife from a drawer and cut into a golden loaf,
slicing a generous slab and transferring it to a plate.
Moments later the plate, a knife, and butter were placed in
front of Mulder.

"Coffee?"

Mulder gaped at her. "Shouldn't we be discussing
my...issues?"

"I thought we were." Shanley took two mugs from a
cupboard and filled them with coffee.

"So what's...?" He gestured at the food.

Placing one mug next to his plate, she sank into a chair and
took a long draught from the other. "You looked like you
could use it. You're skin and bones, kiddo."

Shaking his head, Mulder took a sip of coffee and tore off a
small piece of warm, fluffy bread. "Gotta hand it to you,
Tomie. You're not what I expected."

"It's part of my charm." She sobered. "Why are you here,
Mulder?"

"Why are any of us here?" When she didn't let up on her
probing stare, he sighed. "I'm here because I have to be. I
don't have a choice."

"Bullshit. You always have a choice."

Mulder blinked. So much for the motherly aura.

Tomie leaned forward, cupping her mug between her
palms. "When I was in college, I began experiencing brief
periods of lost time. Holes in my memory I couldn't
account for. Sometimes it was hours, sometimes days. I
thought I was going crazy--becoming schizophrenic or
developing multiple personalities or any one of half a
dozen mental illnesses. At first I was able to cover for
myself with lies--I was sick, I went home for a few days, I
was visiting a friend... But after a while things got so bad I
couldn't hide it any longer. My grades dropped, I flunked
out of school, couldn't keep a boyfriend or a job..." She
pursed her lips. " My family didn't know what to do with
me. And that's the way my life went for many years.

"And then one day while watching television, I stumbled
onto a program about alien abductees. I can still remember
how terrified I became, listening to those people describe
their experiences. It could have been me on that TV screen.
I switched it off and tried to put it out of my mind. I
couldn't.

"Eventually, I couldn't endure the mess that my life had
become a moment longer. I connected with MUFON and
they put me in touch with a psychiatrist who used hypnosis
to help me recover those missing pieces."

"And you lived happily ever after."

Shanley didn't flinch at the bitterness in his tone. "Hardly.
But I did reclaim control of my life. I accepted what had
been done to me, and that it could happen again. Then I set
it aside and moved on."

"So you got a doctorate in psychology in order to help other
abductees."

"I got a doctorate in psychology to help myself. Helping
others was just a side benefit."

"Physician, heal thyself."

"Something like that. Look, Mulder, I'm not going to
engage in psychological sparring matches with you. I've
heard enough from Heintz to know I'd probably lose. If
you're here because you're ready to deal with what
happened, I'll be happy to work with you. Otherwise, we'll
finish our coffee and part company."

Mulder took another bite of bread, chewing slowly.
Delicious, yet it sat like lead in his stomach. "I can't ride in
an elevator or step into the closet without hyperventilating.
I'm afraid to sleep because of the nightmares. I'm getting
flashbacks four or five times a day, during which I've
trashed my own bedroom, punched and damn near
strangled my wife. Scully.."

He bit down on the name and looked away. "I'm not going
to let this destroy the good things in my life. I *will* deal
with this."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Her fingers grazed the back
of his hand. "Now, finish your bread or you'll hurt my
feelings."

A little of the weight eased from his shoulders. Mulder
picked up the rest of the slice. "Do you always conduct
your appointments in the kitchen?"

"You'd rather I had you stretch out on the couch?" She
carried his empty plate to the sink. "I'm not one for
breaking the ice, Mulder. I much prefer a slow thaw. Now
how about some more coffee?"

Twenty minutes later Mulder stepped out the door, a
bemused smile on his face. Preoccupied, he'd climbed into
the car and was reaching for his seatbelt before realizing
that Scully, not Grey, sat behind the wheel.

"Scully? I thought you were dropping by the Hoover,
catching up on some paperwork."

"I did. But I was having a little trouble concentrating." She
scanned his face, a small line between her brows. "Are you
all right?"

Mulder cupped her cheek, tracing the shadows under her
eyes with the pad of his thumb. "That should be my
question, shouldn't it?"

She caught hold of his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm.
"I'm fine."

"You're exhausted. You should go to your mother's tonight,
Scully. Get some real sleep. Let Grey play zookeeper."

She dropped his hand and put the car into gear, pulling
away from the curb. "Mulder, I can't spend a morning in the
office without worrying about you. What in the hell makes
you think I could sleep any better at my mom's?"

"Oh, I don't know. The lack of screaming, maybe?"

"We've discussed this already. I'm not going anywhere." A
car scooted in front of them and she slammed on the brakes
with more force than necessary. She sucked in a deep
breath and let it out slowly. "Let's start over. How was your
session with Dr. Shanley?"

Oh, barrels of fun, he thought, but wisely restrained
himself. "Let's just say she's not your average, run-of-the-
mill shrink." He chuffed, turning to look out the window.
"Verber sandbagged me."

"How so?"

"He may have found the only doctor on this planet that I
can't bullshit."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "I think I'd like to meet this Dr.
Shanley."

"Tomie." Mulder chuckled again. "Also one of the few
people who actually beats me in the category of most
irritating first name."

Scully stared at him, then jerked her gaze back to the road.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just... You're taking this amazingly well."

"Ah. You were expecting a quivering wreck, is that it?"

"Something like that."

"It's hard to get rattled over coffee and freshly baked
bread."

"You lost me, Mulder."

"We didn't DO anything--except lay a few ground rules. It's
all part of Tomie's diabolical strategy to take me out at the
knees before I could fight back. Next time we meet I'm sure
she'll show no mercy."

"Next time?"

The cautious hope in her voice broke his heart. "Yeah, next
time. She wants to see me twice a week, for now. And she
wants me to take these." He pulled the two prescription
forms out of his pocket. "A sedative to help me sleep for
more than three hours at a stretch. And an anti-depressant."

"And you agreed?"

"To the first two. The jury's still out on the anti-
depressant." When she didn't say anything, Mulder slid his
hand onto her leg. "I'll think about it, babe. I promise."

They drove the rest of the way in silence. When Mulder
pulled open the door to the apartment building, Scully
paused and lightly touched his arm. "I'm proud of you,
Mulder. I hope you know that."

Mulder guided her inside with a hand at the small of her
back. "This from the woman who has to walk up two
flights of stairs because her husband's terrified of the
elevator."

"Mulder."

He silenced her with a long, deep kiss, then touched his
forehead to hers. "You're the only thing getting me through
this, Scully. I hope you know that."

Grey met them at the door. "Well, hey. Look who's back.
Y'all have got impeccable timing."

Mulder frowned as he shrugged out of his jacket. "What's
wrong?"

"What makes you think somethin's wrong?"

"Because that southern drawl of yours always gets stronger
when you're on edge." Mulder tossed the jacket onto the
coat tree and stepped into the living room.

He smelled him before he saw him.

Cancerman blew out a cloud of smoke and smiled. "Hello,
Fox. My, my. I must say, I've seen you look better."


Continued in Chapter 16