Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (16/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Thursday
12:04 PM


Mulder faltered, then continued on toward the kitchen.
"Grey, what have we told you about letting strangers into
the apartment when Mommy and Daddy aren't home?" He
snagged a bottle of water from the refrigerator and came
back, leaning in the doorway while he twisted off the cap.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't let him in if he had an
engraved invitation. He was already here when I got
home." Grey braced both hands on the back of the couch
and showed Spender his teeth. "I'd be happy to escort him
out, though. Just say the word."

Spender tapped some ash into a coaster. "Gentlemen,
please. Is this any way to treat an old family friend who's
merely concerned for Fox's health?"

"Spare us the melodrama." Scully stood at Grey's shoulder.
"What do you want?"

Spender ignored her, turning to Mulder with the barest hint
of a smile. "It's good to see you, Fox. Three months. I'd
almost given up hope."

"Oh, you know me. I'm like a bad penny. I always turn up--
eventually." Mulder tipped back the bottle and took a drink.

"I understand you've had some difficulty recalling
your.ordeal. Tell me, have you managed to recover any of
those elusive memories?"

Grey snorted. "I think you've been sucking too hard on that
cigarette, old man. You don't honestly think he's going to
answer, do you?"

Spender blew out a column of smoke. "I'd hoped perhaps
we could engage in a mutual exchange of information."

The bastard's smug, self-satisfied smirk pushed all Mulder's
buttons. He set the water bottle on the counter, holding onto
his anger with effort. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm afraid there's
nothing you could say that I'd want to hear, so..." he
stretched out his arm toward the door, "you obviously
know the way out."

Spender put out his cigarette and stood. "Pity. I thought
you'd like to know why our shapeshifting friends find you
so fascinating."

Mulder lunged forward, catching Spender by the lapels of
his trenchcoat. Spinning him around, he slammed the
smoker up against the wall hard enough to make the
pictures rattle. He leaned in close enough to smell
Spender's stale breath. "Talk. And it better be damn good
because I've been having problems with impulse control
and my Paxil hasn't kicked in."

"Mulder."

Scully's voice reined him in. He glared into Spender's eyes
for a long moment, tightening his grip until his fists dug
into the hollow of the man's throat. Releasing the smoker
with a flick of his wrists, Mulder took several steps
backward and folded his arms.

Spender smoothed his rumpled clothing. "Let me ask you
this, Fox. What *do* you remember?"

Mulder clenched his jaw. "Pain."

"From the tests?"

"If you call breaking all my fingers a test." He scanned
Spender's face with wary eyes. "Why?"

"Really, Fox. I'm beginning to believe you've lost your
edge. You're aware of your father's contributions to the
Project? His.personal sacrifices?"

Mulder gritted his teeth. "I know what he did."

"Then you must see how special you are."

Scully moved to his side, her shoulder brushing his. "Why
don't you humor us? Spell it out."

Spender chuckled, shaking his head. "Agent Scully, you're
more than qualified to answer your own question. After all,
you possess not only sufficient training and intellect, but an
intimate connection with Fox--the ultimate credential."

Mulder looked at Scully, but she kept her attention locked
on Spender. "You're alluding to genetic modifications
brought about by experimentation on Mrs. Mulder when
she was pregnant. *Unauthorized* experimentation."

"Modifications that have served you well." Spender
smirked. "You should be grateful to us, Fox."

Mulder curled his lip. "If you're looking for thanks, you'll
be waiting until hell freezes over."

"What were these modifications?" Scully unobtrusively lay
her hand on his forearm, steadying him.

Spender reached for a cigarette, but Mulder blocked the
move. "Uh-uh. This is a no smoking zone."

"The modifications?" Scully prompted.

"Perhaps you should tell me."

Scully locked eyes with Mulder, apology in her gaze.
"Heightened intelligence, intuition, memory. Enhanced
ability to heal."

"Very good, Agent Scully. Of course our crowning
achievement was an increased resistance to the alien virus."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Grey made a time out
motion with his hands. "You're forgetting that Fox nearly
died from that virus. Seems to me that part of the grand
experiment was a failure."

"Fox's genetic immunity was damaged, not absent. He
successfully resisted the virus during his unfortunate
adventure with Alex Krycek in Tunguska. It was his later
exposure to the toxic chemicals on Brown Mountain that
weakened his immunity and allowed the virus to take
hold."

"A theory for which you have no real proof," Scully said.

"Come now, Agent Scully, you're not thinking like a
scientist. You know that any successful experiment requires
both a study group and a control group. After all, a result
can't be considered significant unless it can be reproduced."

"How many?" Mulder ground the words out through his
teeth. "How many besides Samantha and me?"

"Let's just say you're one of a very select group. I'm quite
serious, Fox--you should be thanking us. Those
'unauthorized experiments' are the only reason you're still
alive."

"That's a bit of an overstatement, isn't it?"

"Hardly. Have you never wondered why you've been
allowed to continue this tiresome quest of yours, meddling
in things best left alone? Any other man would have been
rewarded with a single bullet to the head and a swift
burial."

"I'm too valuable to kill--is that what you're saying?"

Spender inclined his head.

"What does any of this have to do with Fox getting nabbed
by the spaceship from hell?" Grey looked from Mulder to
Scully, then glared at Spender.

*Broken bones. Cuts. Burns. Agony. "How bad is the pain,
on a scale of one to ten?" Thick greasiness filling his eyes,
his mouth. Crawling under his skin, burrowing into his
brain.*

Mulder gasped as he tumbled back into his body with a
jerk. "They know."

"What? What the hell are you talking about, and why do
you look like the bastard just sucker punched you?" Grey
ground the words out, his voice harsh.

"Your brother has just experienced an epiphany of sorts."
Spender pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Fox?"

"They were testing the merchandise." Mulder's lips felt
numb, his head light. "Measuring the *success* of the
experiment."

Spender pursed his lips, blowing a plume of smoke. "We're
understandably concerned. The genetic modifications were
performed in absolute secrecy. They were never supposed
to learn we had.side projects."

"Projects? You're talking about a human being, you son of
a bitch!" Scully's grip on Mulder's hand was gentle, despite
the fury in her words. "What will it mean for Mulder, now
that they do know?"

"We're not talking about human beings, Agent Scully. I
couldn't begin to guess." Spender turned to Mulder with a
smile. "Perhaps you should have taken more care in what
you wished for, Fox. You wanted proof of the existence of
extraterrestrial life. Now you have it."

"That's it. He's so outta here." Grey grabbed Spender by his
upper arms and frog marched him toward the door.

"Mulder? Mulder, you need to sit down."

Scully guided him to the couch and seated him with a
gentle shove. She disappeared and returned a moment later,
pressing the partially consumed water bottle into his hand.

"Drink this."

Mechanically, he did as instructed, sipping water and
staring blankly into space. His thoughts a twisted jumble of
confusing images and emotions, he only distantly registered
the slam of the front door and Grey's return.

"Is he okay?"

"No. He's not 'okay.'" Mulder tipped his head back and
regarded his brother. "That Bill Mulder was a helluva a
father, wasn't he? He certainly left me an inheritance I'll
never take for granted."

Grey winced at the bitterness. He eased onto the arm of a
chair with stiff, correct posture that was incongruous with
his usual careless sprawl. "Don't let that bastard get to you,
Fox. You can't trust a word from his lying mouth."

"He wasn't lying, Grey. Not this time." Mulder's fingers
curled into fists where they rested on his thighs.

"He said it himself--he can't guess their intentions. How
can you be sure--"

"Because I was there!" Mulder spat out the words, lunging
to his feet. He paced to the window, catching a glimpse of
Spender as he drove away, smoke trailing from his partially
lowered window. "They went fishing for me with that rock
and I took the damn bait. Everything they did to me was
calculated. Methodical. All designed to test out the new
model, from breaking my fingers, to infecting me with the
black oil." He scrubbed a hand over his gritty eyes.

"You didn't mention anything about the oil." Scully's tone
held worry and not reproach.

Weariness slammed into him, leaving his hands shaking
and his legs weak. Mulder turned around, "I didn't
remember until now."

"You can't jump to conclusions, Mulder. What they put you
through was horrific, but they sent you back. They may
have the answers they sought. We've been given no reason
to believe they'd take you again."

"Scully, the Files are littered with accounts from multiple
abductees. Dwayne Barry. Max Fenig. Cassandra Spender.
We've been given no reason to believe they won't."

Mulder returned to the couch, collapsing onto the cushions.
"I never wanted to hate him. I made excuses for him,
blamed myself because it was easier to believe I'd screwed
up than to admit my own father didn't give a damn about
me."

Grey leaned forward. "Except he did, Fox. I swear to God,
he did. It's just that for some crazy, screwed-up reason he
could tell everyone but you."

"He turned his son and daughter into science experiments,
Grey. If that's love, then he had a funny way of showing it."

"Maybe not."

Scully's soft interjection drew their attention. Mulder raised
his eyebrows. "Really? Then explain it to me, Scully.
Because right now he's not getting my vote for father of the
year."

"I agree that what he did was wrong. I just think you should
keep an open mind as to his motivations. Mulder, they were
operating under the shadow of impending colonization.
Your father saw the big picture, was aware of the risks.
Maybe Strughold convinced him that cooperating in the
experiments would ultimately be a gift to his children.
Maybe it was his misguided way of protecting you."

Mulder stared at her for a long moment, then shook his
head. "I wish I could be as optimistic as you. But from
where I'm standing, it's an awful shitty gift." He dropped
his head onto the back of the couch, blinking up at the
ceiling. "I'm tired, Scully. And I don't want to talk about
this anymore."

Scully tapped his leg as his eyes started drifting shut. "Not
yet, Mulder. You haven't had anything to eat since early
this morning."

He covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "I'm not
hungry."

"Just some soup, then, and a few crackers. I've got some of
Mom's--"

"I *said* I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat. You're too thin, Mulder. Remember what
Nick said? You can't afford to skip meals."

Mulder snatched down his arm and glared at her. "God, I
am so tired of everyone thinking they can run my life! You
tell me when to eat, when to sleep, when to talk--I'm
surprised you're not scheduling when I can take a piss."

Scully flushed. "You think this is fun for me? Do you have
any idea what it's like watching someone I love go through
hell, how utterly powerless I feel? I can't take away your
pain, stop the flashbacks, or even replace those thirty
pounds. I wish to God I could, but I can't." She pressed the
back of her hand to her lips, steadying herself. "I can make
soup. Or drive you to the doctor. Or hold you when the
nightmares get bad. It may not mean much to you, but it
means a hell of a lot to me."

"C'mere." Mulder enfolded her resistant body. Tucking her
head under his chin, he stroked his fingers through her hair.
"It means everything to me, Scully. Don't ever doubt it. I'm
just being a pain in the ass."

Grey snorted. "Like that's a news flash."

"Don't you have something to do?" Mulder asked dryly.

Grey stood and hooked a thumb toward the kitchen. "How
about I heat the soup?"

"Refrigerator," Scully said. "Third shelf."

Grey offered up a mock salute and disappeared.

Mulder tightened his arms, gratified when Scully's curled
around his waist. The feel of her soft skin, the smell of her
hair, loosened the knot that had formed in his stomach the
moment he'd seen Spender sitting in the living room like he
owned it.

"I do know what it's like, Scully."

He sensed her frown; felt the subtle contraction of muscles
where her face pressed against his chest. "What are you
talking about?"

"You asked if I knew what it was like to feel powerless
while someone I loved went through hell. I do."

She was still for a moment, then her body tensed. "My
cancer."

"I watched the disease slowly suck the life from you. You
were dying, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I
would have done anything to save you."

She sat up and looked into his eyes, bringing her hand up
and cupping his jaw. "And you did. I'm alive because you
never gave up." She brushed her thumb across his cheek,
her smile fading. "I'm afraid I can't produce a miracle,
Mulder. Much as I wish I could."

Mulder brought her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to
the palm, then gave her a crooked grin. "You're here.
You've put up with a pain in the ass for ten years. Babe, if
that's not a miracle, I don't know what is."

Continued in Chapter 17

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (17/21)
By Dawn


Bethesda
Monday
10:32 AM


Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Now it's cookies?"

Tomie waved him into the kitchen and picked up another
egg. She tapped it sharply against the rim of the mixing
bowl and pulled the two halves apart with deft fingers.
"You're a psychologist, Mulder. Surely you recognize my
clever use of a non-threatening environment."

Mulder chuckled and shook his head. "Tomie, as far as I'm
concerned, everything about you is threatening." He
bypassed the chair she indicated and prowled along the
spotless, butcherblock counter.

Tomie watched him from the corner of her eye, her hands
never faltering as she made quick work of two more eggs.
"That's good, isn't it? Complacency rarely encourages
growth."

Mulder picked up an apple and juggled it. "I'm here to
grow? And all this time I thought it was for the PTSD." He
set down the apple and moved on to a set of canisters,
lifting lids and peering inside. "You're out of flour."

"Since you brought it up--"

"The flour?"

"Have you been taking the meds I prescribed?"

Mulder turned and leaned against the counter. "Why bother
asking me? I know you talked to Scully."

"She's worried about you. She said you've been on edge,
that you can't sit still for more than five minutes and you're
not sleeping." Tomie looked pointedly at Mulder's tapping
foot.

Catching the hint, Mulder pushed away from the counter
and dropped into one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "I sleep
when I take the pills."

"But not through the night."

"Four or five hours. That's double what I'd been getting."

"It's still not enough, and you know it. Maybe you're
resistant to the Xanax--I'll give you a new prescription
before you leave today."

Tipping backward, Mulder balanced the chair on two legs.
"You're the doctor."

Tomie plopped the mixing bowl onto the table in front of
him and handed him a wooden spoon. "Here. I may as well
harness some of that excess energy."

Mulder stared at the spoon, then began whirling it through
the mixture of eggs, milk, and butter. "Don't you have an
electric mixer?"

Tomie pulled out several cookie sheets and turned on the
oven. "Mixers are for wimps. Besides, stirring is
therapeutic. Gives you an outlet for all that bottled up
anger."

"I'm not angry."

She gave him a long look and put the milk back in the
refrigerator.

"I'm not."

Tomie braced her palms on the table. "That is utter bullshit,
Mulder."

Mulder stopped stirring and looked up at her, smirking.
"Don't mince words, Tomie. Tell me what you really
think."

"They stripped you of your humanity, treated you as an
object to be manipulated and controlled at whim. They
tortured you--physically, mentally, emotionally--and they
used your wife to do it. Now if that doesn't make you
madder than hell..." She shook her head. "You've got
bigger issues than just PTSD."

"Maybe I'm just too tired to be mad. I've spent the past ten
years of my life in a haze of self-righteous anger, and what
has it accomplished? The abductions, the tests, the plans for
colonization continue, and I can't do anything to stop
them."

"Children are alive right now because of your self-
righteous anger."

Mulder snapped his head up and studied her face. "You and
Scully had quite the little chat."

"I watch the headlines, Mulder. Particularly when they
involve unexplained disappearances. Dana just filled in the
blanks." She took the bowl from his hands. "Those children
would be dead if you hadn't come up with an effective
treatment."

"Damage control. We've got a finger in the dyke; the wall
is still crumbling."

He shoved back his chair and began pacing. "The
abductions are just the warm-up. They intend to colonize
this planet, and those of us who survive will wind up
slaves--or worse yet, incubators for their young. And the
aliens have the power elite of this planet on their side. The
very people who block me at every turn have been
collaborating with them to save their own sorry asses.

"I can't tell you how many times I've been this close, *this*
close to obtaining solid proof, only to have it snatched from
my grasp. Well, I'm damn tired of it, of spinning my wheels
and going *nowhere*. How am I supposed to save a
planet? Hell, I couldn't even save myself!"

Moments passed before the silence pulled at him. Mulder
realized he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, fists
clenched, breathing hard. Tomie sat at the table, watching
him. To Mulder's supreme irritation, she looked mildly
amused.

"What?"

"I was just thinking--it's a good thing you're not angry."

"Very funny."

"Not really." Tomie cradled the mixing bowl against her
body, stirring the batter with smooth, efficient strokes.
"Mulder, you and I both know that putting this experience
behind you will take more than recovering a few lost
memories. You must acknowledge and accept the emotions
that go along with them. Anger, fear, guilt--the feelings
themselves aren't negative, they just need a healthy outlet."

"Sounds like a lot of psychobabble to me."

"Some psychobabble has validity, kiddo." Tomie stood and
walked over to the counter. She took the lid off a canister
and sighed. "You're right; I am out of flour. There's a five-
pound bag on the shelf in the cellar. Mind sparing an old
lady's legs?"

Mulder rolled his eyes but headed for the door. "Those old
legs of yours manage to kick my butt fairly efficiently."

"Down the steps and to your right."

Mulder flicked on the light and descended four steps,
pausing when the walls began closing in. Pressing one hand
to the cinderblock, he forced himself to take deep, slow
breaths. Turning his head, he focused on the bright spill of
light from the sunny kitchen and the soft sounds Tomie
made as she puttered about.

*Get a grip. You're a little old to be scared of the dark.*

Four more steps and he'd reached the bottom. The cellar
was small but clean, its cement floor neatly swept and the
walls freshly painted. Shelves filled with labeled boxes, jars
of homemade preserves, canned vegetables, and staples like
sugar, flour, and rice lined the walls.

He quickly scooped up the flour and made for the stairs. He
had one hand on the railing when an object toward the back
of the room caught his eye and he froze, mouth dry.

Oblong, about five feet in length and three feet high. A
freezer, he told himself firmly. Just an extra place to store
meat, ice cream, TV dinners. Nothing threatening could be
found in white enamel, a hinged lid, a few lights and
dials..

He stared at the glowing, amber light and his stomach
turned over. What...?

*Agony. Everywhere. Coughs tear through his body,
leaving warmth on his chin and copper in his mouth.
Hands...pulling, dragging, lifting. Dark. Walls pressing
inward. Can't move, can't...out! Let me out. A coffin. Buried
alive. Oh, God, not again...*

The bag of flour smacked the floor and burst open,
spraying a cloud of white dust into the air.

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

"Where is he?"

Scully stepped into the foyer, turning her head as she
searched for some sign of Mulder. Grey laid a steadying
hand on her shoulder.

Tomie shut the door and moved in front of them. "He's all
right, Dana. I gave him a hot drink and something to help
him relax. I know you're both anxious to see him, but I
need to talk to you first."

"Okay." Scully folded her arms, tamping down her urge to
shove the woman aside. She'd been halfway between the
Gunmen's place and the Bureau when Grey had called her
cell phone. In the thirty minutes required to collect him and
drive to Tomie's house her threadbare patience had
unraveled completely.

"First, let me repeat--he's all right. I didn't ask you both to
come because he was in trouble."

"It sure as hell didn't sound like he was doing so great when
you called," Grey said.

Tomie smiled at him. "I said he was all right, not great. We
had a rough time of it for a while there. He was in a bad
way--completely dissociative for more than twenty
minutes. But I'm fairly confident we've weathered the worst
of the crisis."

"You said he had a flashback. He remembered something?"
Scully studied Tomie's face, looking for any hint that the
doctor was keeping something from her.

Tomie nodded, compassion crinkling her eyes. "Quite a
large something. In fact, I have a feeling this particular
memory has been acting like a cork, if you take my
meaning. The trauma his mind couldn't accept, that
triggered the protective amnesia he's used to bottle up all
recollection of his experience."

"He's told you the details?"

"He blurted out snips and pieces during the flashback, but
nothing since. He wanted you two to be here first. He said
he has no intention of going over it more than once."

"Then let's get started." Scully took one step forward,
halted by Tomie's upraised hand.

"I'm not finished, sweetheart."

She bristled a little at the endearment. "Can't this wait?
Considering what he's just been through, I don't think it's
wise to leave him alone."

"He needed a few minutes to pull himself together. And I
need a few to prepare you before you see him."

"Tomie, he's my partner and he's my husband. You can't
even begin to imagine what we've been through together. I
think I know what to expect."

"Humor me."

Scully pressed her lips tightly together, but motioned for
Tomie to continue.

"He may seem disturbingly calm. Indifferent, even. Don't
let his detachment throw you. The sedative I gave him is
bound to dampen any emotional response, but he's also
insulating himself from a highly traumatic revelation."

Tomie waited for a nod from each of them, then continued.
"And then there's the issue of his hands."

Scully stiffened. "His hands?"

"They're a bit worse for wear. His was in my cellar when
the flashback came on. By the time I got down there he'd
backed himself into a corner and was...clawing at the walls.
Nothing is broken, but he bloodied his fingertips and peeled
back a couple nails before I stopped him."

"What in the hell was he doing in your cellar?"

"I was in the middle of a batch of cookies. I'd sent him
down for a bag of flour."

"You sent him down there alone, knowing what he's been
going through? The flashbacks, the panic attacks--the man
still can't get into an elevator, for God's sake! Was that
supposed to be your idea of therapy?"

"Dana." Grey touched her arm, the slight shake of his head
a gentle rebuke.

"You of all people know flashbacks can occur anytime,
anywhere. In this particular instance I don't think it was
either the dark or the enclosed space that triggered Mulder's
memories--though I've no doubt they were contributing
factors.

"But the answer to your question, Dana, is yes. That is my
idea of therapy. I've never denied my methods are a bit
unorthodox--in fact, I seem to remember that was what
brought you to me. I provide a safe place and a listening
ear." Tomie tipped her chin up. "I'd say it's working."

Scully sagged as the indignation flowed from her body.
"I'm sorry, Tomie. I just--"

Tomie wrinkled her nose and waved a hand. "No apology
needed. We've all got his best interest at heart. Now, how
about I stop talking and take you to him?"

She led them down a short hallway to a pair of French
doors. Inside lay a cozy den complete with a gas fireplace
and a large picture window looking onto what would likely
be a flower garden in warmer weather. Mulder sat in an
overstuffed chair near the fire, his bandaged hands cradling
a mug.

Scully crossed the room and crouched at his side. "Hey."

"Hey." He twitched his lips in a weak smile, looking from
Scully to Grey.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Scully. Don't look so worried."

Tomie was right--Mulder's placid tone unnerved her. Scully
tried telling herself she should appreciate the respite after
days of nervous fidgeting and snappish remarks, but the
sense of wrongness set her on edge. Mulder existed
naturally in a state of motion--canvassing crime scenes,
tracking down leads, searching out witnesses. The drive to
be doing, saying, thinking even permeated their home life--
he couldn't watch a movie without providing commentary,
reading in bed inevitably led to lovemaking, and skipping
his morning run for more than a day or two left him wired
and out of sorts.

Scully curled her fingers around one thin wrist and
squeezed. "Guess I should've warned Tomie about letting
you help in the kitchen."

Mulder laughed weakly but his eyes were hollow.

Tomie touched Scully's shoulder, then pressed a warm mug
into her hands. Scully stood and joined Grey where he sat
on the couch, sipping from his own cup. The tea was hot
and sweet, laced with milk and sugar--not the way she
normally took it, but she appreciated the therapeutic value
for jangling nerves.

Tomie sat in a rocking chair across from Mulder. "All right,
kiddo. We're listening."

Mulder turned the mug between his palms, staring into the
amber liquid. "The x-rays, the MRIs, and the few memories
I already recovered paint a pretty clear picture of what was
done to me. But they don't account for how I could possibly
have survived." He licked his lips. "Now I know."

The clock ticked a measured beat; somewhere outside a
dog barked furiously. Grey opened his mouth, but Tomie
shook her head sharply, silencing him. Mulder took a small
sip of the tea, grimaced, and continued.

"They had a box--a kind of machine. It was big enough to
hold a person. Namely me. Whenever I became too
damaged to be of further use, they'd haul me over and
dump me inside. Shut the lid, flip a few switches, and
voila! One fully restored guinea pig, ready to rock and
roll."

"A healing device?" Scully took a steadying breath. "I
know we've had our suspicions, but...my God, that certainly
explains everything."

"Let me get this straight." Grey spoke through clenched
teeth, his eyes narrowed. "They'd torture you until you were
half dead, run you through the machine to fix you up, and
then start all over again?"

"Oh, they didn't stop at half. I mean, where's the fun in
that?"

"What are you saying, Mulder?"

"I'm saying I'm pretty damn sure I didn't always go into the
box alive. I wanted to die, Scully. It got to the point where I
reached for it with both hands. But the bastards wouldn't let
me go. They kept bringing me back."

Mulder shut his eyes and his voice lost all inflection. "It
was like waking up in a coffin, buried alive. No light, no
air, walls surrounding you, closing in.. And I could feel it
working inside of me, bones fusing, tissue regenerating,
muscles knitting together. The pain... It felt like I was being
ripped into little pieces and slowly reassembled. The agony
I went through in that machine was ten times worse than
anything they did to put me there."

"That's where you'd gone, then," Tomie said, nodding at
Mulder's hands. "I couldn't understand a good deal of what
you were saying, but one phrase was very clear: You were
begging me to let you out."

"I think it was seeing your meat freezer. The shape, the
controls...it seemed so familiar. And then it all came
rushing back." Mulder scrubbed a hand over his face.
"Sorry for losing it like that. I guess there's probably not
much hope for that batch of cookies."

"Oh, I'd say those cookies served their purpose. You've
made a bit of a breakthrough today, Mulder. How do you
feel?"

"Ready to get the hell out of here." Mulder looked at her
with weary eyes. "No offense."

Tomie smiled. "None taken. I think you've accomplished
quite enough one today."

"Car's parked down the street," Grey said after Tomie had
escorted them to the door and they'd stepped into a chill
wind. "Y'all wait here and I'll pull around."

"I can walk." Mulder zipped his jacket and turned up the
collar. "I'm stoned, not crippled."

"Who said I was doing it for you? I'm sparing Dana the
hike. Those shoes look damn uncomfortable." Grey twirled
his keys around his finger and jogged down the sidewalk.

"He just likes to drive," Scully said dryly. She studied
Mulder's pale face. "How are you doing?"

He lifted a shoulder and gave her a lopsided smile. "Been
worse. Been better. You?"

"That about sums it up, I'd say."

"I'm sorry, Scully."

"For?"

"Being such a bastard the past few days. I'm surprised you
haven't kicked my ass to the curb."

"Well, I can't say I haven't been tempted. But the truth is,
I've grown rather fond of your ass."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well, that's...that's good, Scully. Because I've grown
pretty attached to yours, too." He sighed. "Not that you
could tell lately, I'm sorry to say. But I hope to remedy that.
Soon."

Scully looked up at him through her lashes. "Bring it on."

Mulder tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then leaned
over and touched his mouth to hers. The chaste brush of
lips quickly escalated when she opened to him, and he
enveloped her in his arms. Scully relaxed into the embrace,
one hand drifting up to cradle the back of his neck and the
other curled around his waist.

He jerked as if she'd jabbed him with a needle and took a
quick step backward, stumbling over his own feet.

"Mulder? What's wrong?"

He stared through her as if she were a stranger. "What?"

"What's going on? Are you hurt?"

Blinking, he focused on her at last. "No. Why?"

"Why? Because you practically jumped out of your skin,
that's why. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Scully."

Scully frowned. Mulder's tense posture and shuttered
expression said otherwise. But before she could press the
issue, he began walking toward the street.

"There's Grey. Let's go."

After hesitating briefly, she followed. Mulder moved
easily, no hint of discomfort in his stride or as he climbed
into the back seat. As she buckled her seatbelt, Scully
glanced over her shoulder. Mulder had tipped his head back
and closed his eyes.

Nothing to worry about, she told herself. He's fine.

Grey hunched over the steering wheel, occupied with the
task of driving and his own thoughts. Numb with fatigue,
Scully sank back into her seat, mirroring Mulder's position.
Within minutes, the silence lulled her into a doze.

Mulder slowly opened his eyes. A line formed between his
brows and he sat up straighter, cocking his head. Listening
intently. Nodding.

Grey eased the car around a corner, tapping his fingers
against the steering wheel. Scully drowsed, her breath a
soft, rhythmic whisper. And the tires hummed against the
pavement.


Continued in Chapter 18

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (18/21)
By Dawn


Georgetown
Tuesday
3:58 AM


*So close.

Once unbearable, the pain has faded to a distant
annoyance, like the insistent yap of a barking dog. He can't
feel his arms or legs, and simply moving air in and out of
his lungs takes immense effort. He's tired. So tired. And
death is close.

"Did you know that human physiology has a much higher
concentration of nerve endings than ours does? It's what
makes your species so sensitive to touch. And to pain."

Fresh agony blossoms in his belly, driving back the
numbness. The air catches in his chest and he coughs,
weak, ragged spasms that spray her pristine lab smock with
a fine, red mist. He groans but doesn't try to blink back the
tears. If only they would blur her voice as well as her face.

"Your stamina has been truly remarkable, Mulder. Others
succumbed long before reaching this stage." She wipes his
lips and chin with a soft cloth before tapping information
into what looks like a palm pilot.

He can't take his eyes off her hair, not even when his vision
darkens around the edges and her words stop making
sense. Red, silky, soft as a butterfly wing. He loves how it
feels between his fingertips, the way it flickers around her
face like bright flames. The sweet, clean smell when he
nibbles that spot just behind her ear, the one that makes her
moan his name.

Scully.

A quick, almost painless tug and he's free, severed at last
from the body that holds only pain. A final breath whistles
from his lungs, and he floats away...

...and awakens, screaming. His body is on fire, twisted from
the inside out. They've crawled inside him--squeezing
muscle and bone, rearranging organs, slithering through
his blood. Fight or flight, he opens his eyes, desperate to
escape. Darkness. It envelopes him. He flings his arms
upward, smashing his knuckles against something solid.

He's locked in. He pushes with his hands, pulling up his
legs, but his forehead and knees crack against an
unmovable barrier, knocking him backward. The warmth of
his own panicked breaths rebounds against his face.
What...?

Oh, God. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod. Is it a coffin? Is he
buried alive? He smells antiseptic and his own blood, not
freshly turned earth. There's not enough air. His heart
pounding, his chest heaving, he pushes, then scratches at
the blackness smothering him, sobbing and pleading.

Let me out! I'm not dead!*

Mulder jerked awake. His heart hammered against his ribs
and he gulped for air, surprised when it slipped easily into
his lungs. He sat up, mopping his sweaty face with his tee
shirt. Beside him Scully slept on, her hands curled beneath
her chin and her face peaceful.

When he'd stopped shaking, Mulder eased out of the bed.
He swapped his damp shirt with a fresh one and shuffled
out of the room. Grey was spending the night at Kristen's,
and the living room felt strangely empty without him. He
sank onto the couch, clutching a throw pillow to his chest.

Tomie's theory had proven correct. Once he recalled his
horrific experiences with the healing device, other
memories began returning at an alarming rate. He'd
suffered three more flashbacks before collapsing into bed,
too tired to contemplate anything but sleep. When the
nightmares had picked up right where the flashbacks left
off, he'd broken down and agreed to take Tomie's damn
pills.

That was four hours ago. He was still bone tired, his eyes
gritty and his limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Yet beneath
the exhaustion hummed a current of tension that would not
allow him the respite his body craved. He felt jumpy.
Jittery. There was something urgent he needed to do, some
place he needed to be, but he couldn't put his finger on
what it was.

*It's time to go.*

The odd refrain had flickered through his mind all
afternoon, as if someone were whispering in his ear. He
tightened his arms, rocking a little. Go where? He felt
trapped by his own weakened body and the oppressive
concern that radiated from Scully and Grey.

Tossing the pillow aside, he lurched upright and wandered
over to the window, leaning his forehead against the cool
glass. A full moon bathed the street, glinting off pavement
still damp from a brief spell of snow flurries. The darkened
windows, the absence of traffic, the softly glowing
streetlights--all radiated a stillness that mocked the
relentless turmoil churning inside him.

How had he deluded himself into believing he could take
ownership of his life? That he could walk away and leave
the nightmare behind? His existence was tangled up in a
web of deceit and betrayal. Once Spender had accused him
of becoming a player, a cheap shot meant to impugn
Mulder's integrity. But the truth was that he'd been a pawn
in their damn cosmic chess game from the moment of his
conception. He'd never be free of it.

Never.

*Time to go.*

It was a compulsion now, a constant tickling in his brain.
He turned from the window, rubbing his head.

* Now, while she's sleeping. Hurry.*

He opened the closet and reached for his coat. When his
fingers brushed Scully's jacket, an electric tingle shot up his
arm and the tickle in his head became a command.

*IN THE POCKET TAKE IT REACH INSIDE PICK IT UP
TAKE IT HOLD IT TOUCH IT YOURS ALL YOURS*

He slid his hand inside the pocket and grabbed it.

Smooth, slick, warm, it fit perfectly into his palm. He shut
his eyes as serenity washed through him, the rush as sweet
as a narcotic. His chin dipped to his chest and his body
relaxed.

The voice gentled.

*Relax. Let go. You don't have to think anymore. Just do
exactly as you're told. We'll take care of you, Mulder. No
more fear. No more worries. Come back to us. It's time.*

He smiled and opened his eyes. Of course, everything made
sense now. He didn't belong here; he needed to go back.
They were waiting for him.

He put on his jacket--Quiet, don't wake her--and walked to
the elevator. Punching the button, he hummed quietly and
watched the lighted numbers count down.

Outside, a gust of wind ruffled his hair and peeled back his
jacket. Mulder zipped it to his chin, hunching his shoulders.
He stared up and down the deserted street, a thread of
uncertainty penetrating his comfortable haze. He had to go-
-but how?

His patted his pockets. No keys. He couldn't take the car or
get back into the apartment without waking Scully.

Uncertainty blossomed into anxiety. This was crazy; he
was standing on the street in the middle of the night with no
idea where he was headed or how he was going to get
there. He should turn around, march right back into the
building and...

*Relax. Don't think. Feel. Feel us. Come back.*

He started walking, and the relief was instantaneous.
Apprehension melted away with each footstep and he
smiled, barely acknowledging the chill cutting through his
too-thin jacket and nipping at his feet. Cupping the rock in
his hand, he caressed the smooth surface with his thumb,
mesmerized by the touch. For the first time in longer than
he could remember, he felt good. So good.

Ducking his head and shielding his face from the brunt of
the wind, he quickened his pace.


Georgetown
5:11 AM


Scully rolled onto her stomach, burrowing further under the
covers. Still chilled despite the blankets, she scooted
toward the middle of the bed, blindly seeking Mulder's
warmth.

She snapped her eyes open and sat up, listening. After a
wretched afternoon battling flashbacks, he'd fallen into an
exhausted sleep. Unfortunately, the returning memories had
pursed him into his dreams and he'd awakened in a cold
sweat shortly thereafter. The fact that he'd finally agreed to
one of Tomie's pills testified to the depth of his fatigue.

She'd crawled into bed full of hope that the night might
pass without further incident. Mulder, sprawled across the
mattress, hadn't twitched when she'd snuggled up to his
back. The slow, steady whisper of his breath had lulled her
into slumber.

She should have known it was too good to last.

Stopping to check the bathroom, she continued into the
living room. She expected flickering blue light and Mulder
stretched on the sofa, remote in hand, but found only
darkness and silence.

"Mulder?"

In the kitchen, an empty water bottle sat beside the sink.
"Mulder?" Louder and more insistent, but still greeted with
silence.

She did another sweep of the apartment, this time with an
investigator's eye. The shirt Mulder had worn to bed lay
discarded on the floor; his dresser drawer hung open. She'd
seen enough sweat-soaked clothing over the past week to
recognize evidence of a nightmare.

In the living room she picked the throw pillow off the floor
and returned it to the couch. The curtains were open a
crack, revealing the street below.

Damn it. Nick had made it very clear that running was out
of the question. Not only would it sap Mulder's already
flagging energy level and expose him to the elements, it
burned calories he desperately needed.

Scully opened the hall closet. Her coat had been knocked
off its hanger and left in a heap on the floor next to
Mulder's running shoes. His Birkenstocks, however, were
missing. What the hell...?

She snatched his leather jacket from the hanger, eyes
slipping shut when she felt a telltale bulge in his pocket.

Mulder's wallet and keys.

You didn't go running in sandels and you sure as hell didn't
traipse around in the middle of the night without your keys.

What was he doing? Had he become caught in some kind
of flashback? Could he be wandering around the city,
trapped in his own mind? She had to find him, *now*,
before he hurt himself. Scully refused to consider the
possibility that he might hurt someone else.

She returned to the kitchen and grabbed the phone,
punching numbers with shaking fingers. It was picked up
on the second ring.

"Dana?"

"Kristen, I need to talk to Grey."

"What's wrong? Is it Mulder?"

"Kristen, please, I can't...I have to--"

"Calm down, darlin'. I'm right here."

She sagged, her legs trembling. "Grey, Mulder's gone."

"*Gone*? Where?"

"I don't know. If I did I wouldn't be standing here talking
on the phone!"

"Okay, okay. Slow down and back up."

She sucked in a deep breath. "He was sound asleep when I
went to bed. That was around midnight. When I woke up
about fifteen minutes ago, he was gone. His shoes are
missing but he left his wallet and keys."

"Maybe he went for a run." She could hear Grey moving
about the room, opening and shutting drawers.

"Wrong shoes. And he'd have taken his keys."

"You've got a point. Are you sure he didn't leave a note?
Maybe he went for a walk and just forgot the keys. If he'd
had a flashback, wasn't thinking straight--"

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Meaning?"

"What if he wasn't in his right mind when he left? The
flashbacks have been intense. If he thought he was back on
the ship--"

"From what you're saying, he didn't just run out of the
apartment. He had the presence of mind to go to the closet,
put on shoes, a coat--"

"Oh my God." Scully stiffened, and spun toward the
hallway. Her eyes locked onto her jacket as she forced her
legs into motion.

"Dana? What is it?"

Ignoring Grey, she scooped up the coat and plunged her
hand into the pocket.

Empty.

Oh, God. Mulder.

"Damn it, Dana! Answer me!"

"It's my fault. How could I have been so stupid?" Tears
flooded her eyes and caught in the back of her throat. "God,
this can't be happening. It can't be happening!"

"What are you talking about? Dana, talk to me. I'm in the
car but I can't get there for at least fifteen minutes and
you're scaring the shit out of me. What's your fault?"

Her legs folded and she slid down the wall. "Mulder has the
device."

"What dev--the *rock*? How?"

"Skinner wanted our lab to have a look at it. I'd picked it up
from the guys and was taking it to the Bureau when Tomie
called. In all the commotion this afternoon I just...I..." Her
voice cracked and she couldn't continue.

"You forgot." Grey sighed. "We spent the afternoon peeling
him off the ceiling, Dana. It's no wonder--"

"Why would he do it, Grey? *Why* would he touch it
knowing what we know? It doesn't make any sense,
unless..."

"Unless he didn't have a choice." Grey's voice hardened.
"Put on come clothes and meet me out front. He doesn't
have a car or his wallet--he can't have gone far."

"Can't he? If we're right, Grey, then they called him. They
want him back."

"I don't give a damn what they want. They can't have him.

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

The first weak threads of sunlight were glinting off car
windows as the cab coasted to the curb.

"Hey, buddy. Need a lift?"

Mulder pulled up short and stared at dark eyes in a stubbled
face. "What?"

"I said, do you need a lift? I've been watching you for the
last two blocks and no offense but ya look like you're ready
to keel over."

He limped closer. His legs were weak with exhaustion and
his feet felt like wooden blocks. Funny, he hadn't noticed
until now.

"You'd give me a ride?"

The cabbie popped his gum. "For the standard rate." He
squinted at Mulder. "Ya got money, don't ya?"

Money? Mulder searched through his pockets. No wallet,
but he pulled out a slim leather folder. The cabbie's eyes
widened when the case flipped open.

"FBI? Hey, you on a case?"

*It's time to go. Hurry.*

"I have to go. It's urgent."

"Never let it be said that Pete Sobricki didn't do his part to
uphold justice. Hop in--I'll bill ya."

Mulder blinked, then opened the door and climbed in back.
"Thanks."

"So...where to?"

"What?"

Pete slung an arm over the seatback and turned to face him.
"Were you in an accident or something? 'Cause you're sure
acting a little rough around the edges."

"I'm fine. I'm just in a hurry."

Pete lifted his hands. "Okay, okay. So tell me where we're
going."

Mulder frowned, then his forehead smoothed. "West.
Virginia."

Pete snorted but turned back toward the wheel. "Virginia.
Could you be a little more specific?"

Mulder relaxed, tipping his head onto the seatback and
closing his eyes. Shenandoah National Park. Skyline
Drive."


Continued in Chapter 19

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (19/21)
By Dawn


Arlington
Tuesday
7:34 AM


"This isn't working." Scully sat forward, staring at the back
of a tall, dark-haired man striding briskly down the street.
He turned around as they drew closer, and she slumped in
her seat. "We're never going to find him this way."

"How the hell did he manage to give us the slip?" Grey
navigated the car around a corner, his shoulders tense and
his words clipped. "Forget the fact that he's got no money
or transportation. He wasn't physically strong enough to
walk this far."

"He obviously found a way." Scully clenched her jaw.
"Time is running out. We have to *do* something."

"I'm taking suggestions."

"Pull over."

"What?"

"Just...pull over. Let's think this through."

Shrugging, Grey maneuvered the car to an open parking
space. He shut off the engine and looked at Scully with
raised brows.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to think past
the throbbing pulse in her head. "I called Skinner before I
left the apartment. He promised he'd let the DC police
know that an agent is missing. I think it's time you and I
attacked this from a different angle."

"Okay." Grey tipped his head back and gazed up at the
ceiling. "If we can't track him down, maybe we can figure
out where he's going. You know, head him off at the pass."

"I thought of that. Given that Mulder's abduction and return
took place within a thirty mile radius, the Lynchburg area
would seem a likely destination."

"But?"

"I'm not willing to risk Mulder's life on those odds. If we
go racing out there and we're wrong.."

"We've lost him," Grey finished.

"Skinner said he'd fax Mulder's picture to police in
Lynchburg and towns in the surrounding area. They'll be
watching for him."

"That damn rock! We should have destroyed it instead of--"
He bolted upright, his eyes huge. "Dana, the rock! If they
can track him with it, why can't we? Langly could rig that
machine--"

"The oscilloscope. Go." Scully pulled out her cell phone as
Grey gunned the engine. "I can't believe we didn't think of
this before." She drummed her fingers on the armrest.
"Frohike? It's Scully. Listen carefully; Mulder needs your
help."

Grey focused on weaving the car in and out of the sluggish,
rush hour traffic. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his
knuckles turned white and his fingers ached.

"It's not your fault."

Her soft statement startled him. He darted a quick look at
her face before doggedly returning to the road. "If I'd been
there, this wouldn't have happened."

"You can't know that."

"I know he'd never have made it out the door without me."

"You've slept on that couch every night for more than a
week; put your personal life on hold for the past month.
You needed a break, Grey. Stop blaming yourself."

"Excuse me?"

She sighed. "Okay, okay. I will if you will."

Frohike was waiting for them, the expression on his face
less than encouraging.

"Don't look at me like that, Melvin." Scully breezed past
him and went straight to the lab bench where Byers and
Langly huddled over the oscilloscope. "You boys are
always bragging that your kung fu is the best. Well, now
would be a very good time to prove it."

"It's not a matter of kung fu." Byers faltered under Scully's
pleading gaze. "Our equipment can only function within a
certain range, and the fact that we're being bombarded by
competing signals only complicates things."

Langly fiddled with various knobs. "Hey, if you could
narrow the search area down a little, we might be able to
get close enough to zero in on Mulder's signal."

"Langly, if I had that kind of information I wouldn't need
the damn equipment!"

Grey stepped between them. "What if we got in the car,
drove around with that thing? Maybe we'd get lucky and
latch onto the right signal."

Byers ducked his head. "I'm afraid the chances of success
would be practically nonexistent. It would be like trying to
find a needle in a haystack."

Scully smacked her palm on the counter. "Then we'd better
start looking. Mulder can't be out of our reach. There has to
be a way--"

Her cell phone rang. Pulling it from her pocket, she turned
her back. "Scully."

"Dude, you gotta know we want to find Mulder as much as
you do," Langly said to Grey. "We can try boosting the
power on this thing, maybe increase the range. But that's
gonna take time."

"We don't have any!" Grey rubbed a hand over his face.
"You boys know what kind of shape Fox was in when we
found him. Do you really think he'll survive another trip
with those bastards?"

"We've got a lead. Pack that thing up and let's go!" Scully
shoved the phone into her pocket. When they gaped at her,
she narrowed her eyes. "Now!"

The Gunmen sprang into action, loading the oscilloscope
and several smaller pieces of equipment into a large
carryall.

"Can that thing run on batteries?"

Byers glanced up from folding cords. "No, but we have a
small generator in the van."

"What about when we have to leave the van?"

Langly waved a palm-sized device. "We've got two of
these. They run on batteries. Their range is limited but if
we get close enough, say within five to ten miles...."

"We will."

Grey nudged Scully's arm. "What's the story?"

"A cab driver phoned the Bureau asking about Special
Agent Fox Mulder. Said he picked Mulder up in Arlington
about 5:15 this morning. Mulder didn't have money for cab
fare, but when the driver saw his badge he decided he could
trust him to pay up later."

"He called to collect his money?"

"Not exactly. He told Skinner he couldn't shake an uneasy
feeling--that something about Mulder felt 'off.' His odd
behavior coupled with the fact that he insisted he be
dropped off in the middle of nowhere had the guy worried
Mulder might not be who he claimed. The cabbie said he
didn't want some crazy person on the loose, posing as a
Federal agent."

Grey frowned. "The middle of nowhere? Where exactly did
this guy take him?"

Scully evaded his eyes, busying herself with taking a
canvas bag from Frohike. "The mountains in Virginia, over
two hours from here. Shenandoah National Park."

"Over two-- God, Dana! He's got a huge jump on us."

She shouldered the bag. "Then we'd better get moving."


Shenandoah National Park
1:22 PM

"Shit!"

Mulder sat up, gingerly dusting dirt and bits of dead leaves
off his palms. He'd taken his third spill in less than an hour
and his hands and knees were scraped and bloody.
Grasping the trunk of a nearby sapling, he dragged himself
to his feet.

His feet. The sandals tripped him up and provided no
insulation for his sock-clad toes. Why hadn't he worn his
hiking boots? Or his leather jacket? And while he was on
the subject, what the hell was he doing out here? He'd been
stumbling through the woods, following this damn trail for
hours without seeing a living soul. He was tired, thirsty,
and hopelessly turned around. Maybe...

*Keep going. Come back.*

Mulder shoved his chilled hands into his pockets, sighing
as his tense muscles unwound. The rock heated his palm
and fingers--the only warm spot on his chilled body. More
importantly, it soothed his spirit. He started walking,
ignoring his abraded knees and blistered feet. Everything
would be okay.

He staggered along, dodging low-hanging branches,
slipping and sliding when the trail turned damp and muddy.
Watching his feet, he concentrated on the business of
putting one in front of the other. The sounds and smells of
the forest, his discomfort, all faded to white noise....

The raucous caw of a crow snapped him out of his trance.
Mulder blinked, struggling to focus.

The clearing was about a hundred yards wide, a smooth
grassy stretch of ground broken by the large trunks of
several fallen trees. Shivering, he turned his face up into the
weak sunlight. He didn't remember leaving the trail.
Spinning in a slow circle, he searched the tree line, unsure
which direction he'd come from.

No longer moving, weariness slammed into him. Mulder
rubbed at his burning eyes, swaying a little.

*Rest now. Wait.*

Rest. That sounded wonderful.

Collapsing against one of the large tree trunks and finally
sheltered from the wind, Mulder curled into a ball and
burrowed his face into his jacket, creating a small pocket of
warmth. Within minutes, he was asleep.


Skyline Drive
4:04 PM

"Another ten miles and we'll be back to the highway."
Byers kept his eyes on the road, his voice neutral.

"Then we turn around and head south again."

Grey saw Langly and Frohike grimace at each other. He
cleared his throat. "Dana, we've been up and down this road
twice already. The sun's going down--in another hour it
will be dark."

"And it's our best chance of finding him."

"All I'm saying is that maybe we should get some help. We
could contact the park rangers, organize a search and
rescue."

"By the time they get teams together it will be too late."

He swallowed, but there didn't seem to be enough spit. "It
already may be too late."

She grabbed his arm. "Don't even say it. Mulder went all
the way to Antarctica for me. He never gave up, and neither
will I."

Grey held his ground, his own anger flaring. "You think I
like being the voice of reason? I want to find Fox as much
as you do, damn it! I just don't see the sense in blindly--"

"Will you two shut up? We're getting something." Frohike
crouched by the oscilloscope, tweaking dials. "Easy. Easy.
Bingo! That's it!"

"Are you sure?" Scully leaned over his shoulder.

"One thing you can say about this signal, it's unique,"
Langly answered. "Byers, pull over as soon as you can find
a place to stash the van or we're gonna lose this."

"There's a park entrance up ahead. Hang on."

By the time they parked and geared up it was dusk. Scully
studied a map while the Gunmen snapped at each other,
fumbling with the handheld units.

"I thought you said those would work out here." She
checked her weapon for the second time and flicked on her
flashlight, panning it over the area.

"They will." Frohike snatched one from Langly's grasp.
"What the hell are you doing, Ringo? You've got to set this
threshold to maximum, or--"

"Oh, now you're the expert! Who was the genius that
underestimated the damping affect the mountains would
have on the signal?"

"Gentlemen, this isn't helping and we're--"

In perfect unison, "Shut up, Byers."

Scully swung the flashlight beam into their eyes. "I'm going
to shoot all three of you if you don't have those things
ready to go in sixty seconds."

Langly blinked, Byers froze like a deer caught in the
headlights of an oncoming truck, but Frohike just smirked.
"No need for violence. We're ready."

Grey and Scully moved in close as Frohike switched on the
machine. "This shows signal strength." He pointed to a
light bar with a single flickering square. "As you can see,
right now it's barely registering. I'm guessing Mulder must
be at least a couple miles from here."

"More like five," Langly muttered.

"As we home in on the signal, more of the bar will light
up," Frohike said. "Theoretically, when we find Mulder the
entire bar will be red."

Grey frowned. "Theoretically?"

The Gunmen eyed each other before Byers finally spoke.
"We put these together months ago. The, ah, project we
intended them for fell through and they've been gathering
dust ever since."

"You've never tested them?" Scully asked.

"Not outside the lab, no."

She bit her lip, but took the instrument from Frohike. "Then
let's hope you boys knew what you were doing." She
pointed her flashlight at the trees. "According to the map,
this is an access point to the Appalachian Trail. It should be
just beyond those trees, running roughly north and south

Grey held up a hand. "Wait a minute. If you're going to
suggest what I think--"

"We should divide into two groups, keeping in contact by
radio."

"That's what I was afraid of. Look, Dana, I think splitting
up is a bad idea. It's almost dark, we're in the middle of the
forest, and these guys are amateurs at this kind of thing."

"Who you calling amateur?" Langly waved the device in
his hand. "Don't forget, you wouldn't be here without us."

Frohike folded his arms. "What he said."

"Splitting up doubles our chances of finding Mulder. You
can take Byers and Langly and head south; Frohike and I
will go north." Scully laid a hand on Grey's arm and
lowered her voice. "I understand your concern, but each of
us is armed. I'm willing to take the risk."

Byers squared his shoulders. "So are we."

Grey sighed. "Then I think we should check in by radio
every twenty minutes. And if you get lucky, I want you to
wait for me before you approach him." When Scully
frowned, he quickly added, "Fox is under the influence of
an alien device, Dana. We have no idea what his state of
mind is or what he may be capable of. I don't want you
going near him without back-up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Grey ignored Frohike's mutter, pinning Scully with his
eyes. After a moment she nodded and started walking.

"Fine. Let's go."

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

"Damn it, Langly, watch what you're doing!" Grey
balanced on one leg as he fixed his shoe. "That's the second
time you've tromped on my heel."

"Well, excuse me. Maybe you could give a guy a little
warning before you stop dead in the middle of the trail.
You're the only one with a good flashlight--we can't see
shit back here."

Grey mentally counted to ten. It wasn't Langly's fault that
they'd hiked several miles and come up empty. "Still
nothing?" He jabbed a finger at the instrument in Langly's
hand. Now even the single stuttering light had gone dark.

"Nada. It's pretty obvious Mulder never came this way."

"Unless your little invention is really a piece of useless
junk."

"Hey! I spent a lot of hours on that so-called 'piece of junk,'
and--"

Byers stepped between them, cutting off Langly mid-rant.
"We told you they'd never been tested. We're doing the best
we can under the circumstances."

Grey ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I
know you are. Let's head back. Dana's due to check in any
minute. How 'bout we pick up the pace?"

Langly extended his arm and Grey set off at a slow jog. He
fought frustration and a rising sense of despair. Had they
really believed the five of them could find Fox in the
middle of this wilderness? What if by conducting their own
search they'd thrown away viable opportunities to find
him?

His thoughts consumed with worry for his brother, it was a
moment before he registered the hiss of static from the
radio on Byer's belt. Byers picked it up as Frohike's voice
crackled to life.

"Byers, where are you?"

"Almost back to where we started." Byers looked at Grey.
"No luck, I'm afraid."

"Yeah? Well the three of you better haul ass. The 'scope's
lighting up like a Christmas tree. We're closing in on
Mulder as we speak." Frohike's voice was giddy with
excitement."

Grey grabbed the radio from Byers. "What's your
position?"

They heard Frohike conferring with Scully before he
replied. "We're about three miles along the trail but the
signal's veering west. We're-- Scully...Scully, wait! Just
follow the 'scope; it will show you the way. Gotta go."

"You heard him." Grey shoved the radio into his pocket.
"Let's haul ass, boys."

To Grey's surprise, Langly and Byers stayed with him,
despite the breakneck pace. He moved as fast as he dared
without risking a broken ankle from the uneven, rocky
ground. A mile down the trail the first light flickered to life,
spurring him onward. The bar was nearly complete when it
began to recede. Grey skidded to a stop.

"Shit! We're starting to lose it. We must have gone too far,
passed the point they left the trail. Let's backtrack and then
head west."

He'd barely finished speaking when the radio clicked. "Yo,
Byers. You better answer, 'cause we're about to be in some
deep doo doo." Frohike's whisper vibrated tension.

"It's Grey. What's up, Frohike?"

"We found Mulder, but he looks like crap. I reminded
Scully she promised to wait for you but she said...uh, well,
let's not go there."

Grey groaned and started jogging. "She's with him right
now?"

"Yeah. And he's acting strange, man. I mean, stranger than
usual. Edgy. Scully's trying to calm him down."

"What's your position?"

"A small clearing just west of the trail. I think you better
hurry."

"On our way. We're just around the corner."

They crashed through the trees and underbrush, stumbling
over roots and dodging low-hanging branches. When the
indicator bar shone red and the trees thinned, Grey slowed
to a walk.

Moonlight bathed the clearing, a stark contrast to the
darkened woods. Frohike stood just beyond the treeline, his
attention focused on something beyond Grey's line of sight.
Grey turned to Byers and Langly.

"Hang back. We don't want Fox any more upset than he
already is."

He moved up beside Frohike, keeping to the shadows as
much as possible. "Frohike, what's going on? Where are
they?"

Frohike didn't acknowledge him. Instead he slowly raised
both hands.

"Frohike! What the--" Grey broke off, heart pounding.

Fox and Dana stood in the center of the grassy area, beside
a fallen tree. He was talking to her in a low, intimate tone,
but staring at Grey and Frohike with lifeless eyes. One arm
around her neck, he crushed her body against his.

And held a gun to her temple.

Continued in Chapter 20

Blood Ties 12: By the Road We Came (20/21)
By Dawn


Shenandoah National Park
5:37 PM


Scully clutched the arm pressed against her throat, digging
her fingers into the soft cotton. "Put the gun down, Mulder.
You don't want to do this."

He rambled on, his lips caressing her ear. "You don't
understand, Scully. It's time to go. They'll be here soon and
I can't...I can't let you stop me."

She shivered. The husky voice, the tickle of his breath, the
heat of his body pressed along hers left her weak-kneed
with fear. The man holding her so tightly bore little
resemblance to her husband.

From the moment she'd found him on the ground, huddled
in a ball and hypothermic, he'd been spouting nonsense.
*It's all right, Scully. There's no reason to worry; I'm fine.*
Oblivious to the abrasions, the bruises, the bone-rattling
chill. Words tumbled from his lips, uttered in his voice, but
they weren't *Mulder*. He sounded as if he were reading
from a script.

"Mulder, you're hurting me." From the corner of her eye
she saw Grey edging closer. "Put away the gun and you can
explain everything to me. Help me understand; I *want* to
understand."

"You don't want to understand; you just want to change my
mind." He tensed and pressed the gun harder against her
skull. "That's far enough, Grey."

Still over ten feet away, Grey froze, then pasted on a smile.
"Well, hello to you, too, little brother. You want to tell me
what's wrong? Maybe I can help."

"I don't need your help. I'd be fine if everyone would just
leave me alone."

"Fox, you've got your wife in a headlock with a gun
pressed to her temple. Way I see it, you're about as far from
fine as you can get."

Mulder shuddered, then swayed and the gun shifted away
from her head. Scully became a dead weight, using gravity
and a quick twist to squirm out from under the arm at her
throat.

But Mulder grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked,
catching her as she stumbled backward and crashed into his
body. Something hard smacked her jaw and she went still,
blinking tears of pain as he nestled her gun snugly under
her chin.

"*Don't*, Scully."

"Fox--"

Mulder shuffled backward, dragging her with him. "It's
time, Grey. You can't stop this. I've got to go." His delivery
was chilling. Matter-of-fact. Reasonable.

A figure detached itself from the shadows at the treeline.
Frohike. His glasses reflected the moonlight, turning his
face into an expressionless mask as he jabbed a finger at
the sky.

"We've got incoming, man. If we don't get the hell out of
here the phrase 'Beam me up, Scotty' is gonna take on a
whole new meaning for all of us."

Mulder's iron grip on her hair prevented Scully from
looking, but she saw the color drain from Grey's face.

"Fox, for the love of God, let her go! We've got to get out
of here; you don't realize what you're doing. Remember
what they did to you, the way they hurt you, broke your
fingers, your--"

"Shut up! All of you, shut the fuck up!"

It was the first crack in his calm exterior. Mulder shifted
restlessly behind her. Fine tremors vibrated through his
body and Scully could feel his heart hammering against his
ribs. She squirmed in his arms, desperate to see his face.

"Remember it, Mulder. All of it. The pain. The fear. The
way they tore you apart and put you back together. They
hurt you, Mulder, and made you want to die. You don't
want to go back to--"

Agony blasted through her cheekbone, showering sparks
across her vision. Scully cried out, sagging against Mulder
as she fought to remain conscious. Grey shouted, fierce,
pleading words that rolled over her without meaning. She
saw his hand reach toward the small of his back, then drop
to his side. Wincing, she forced her tongue to make the
right sounds. What emerged was a slurred whisper.

"Grey...stop this...know what to do."

Grey's gaze locked onto her face and time slowed to a
crawl. His eyes, wild with fear, widened as the meaning of
her words sank in. He shook his head.

"Dana, no. I...I can't."

She wanted to scream, to remind Grey that there were evils
far worse than death, but Mulder was choking off her air.
And then she felt searing heat. Oh, God. The device.

"Grey. Please!"

Grey shut his eyes, twisting his face into a grimace. Then in
one smooth motion he pulled his gun from the small of his
back and fired.

Scully screamed as Mulder collapsed, taking her down with
him, their arms and legs tangled together. Her head struck
the ground and the breath whooshed from her lungs. Above
the roaring in her ears she could hear Grey and Frohike
shouting. Rough hands moved her away from Mulder's
body.

"...coming...find it before...how the hell should I...do it
now!"

Someone grabbed her arm and tugged her upright. Pain
knifed through her skull, and the world spun sickeningly
while she fought for balance. Byers face swam into view,
his eyes huge and his mouth moving rapidly.

"...Scully...move before...trees...provide cover..."

He slung her arm around his neck and she pushed with her
legs, wobbling to her feet. They staggered across the grass,
weaving drunkenly. She heard Frohike and Langly
screaming at each other. Grey sprinted toward the trees,
Mulder slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

They ran, crashing through underbrush and tripping over
tree roots, until her lungs were ready to burst. At last Grey
barked out the command to stop and they all dropped to the
ground, panting.

As she caught her breath, Scully's head cleared and the pain
receded to a dull ache. Mulder lay on the ground, Grey and
Frohike crouched over him. His outstretched hand was
limp.

"Damn it, Frohike, you've got to press harder! Use this."
Grey stripped off several layers of clothing, tossing Frohike
his tee shirt. "He's losing too much blood."

"I can't believe you shot him." Frohike folded the shirt and
tucked it against Mulder's right shoulder, leaning his full
weight into the compression.

"I didn't exactly have a lot of options. That ship was closing
fast and Fox was standing there with his thumb out." Grey's
retort sounded belligerent but Scully saw his hands
trembling as he slipped his jacket beneath Mulder's head.

"Yeah, but... If you'd been off an inch you could've nailed a
lung, not to mention Scully."

"But he didn't." Scully shrugged off Byers' supportive hold
and crawled to Mulder's side. She looked into Grey's red-
rimmed eyes. "He saved Mulder, and the rest of us, as
well." She nudged Frohike out of the way. "Hold the
flashlight, I need to see the wound."

The bullet had struck the upper portion of Mulder's right
shoulder, a mirror image of the wound she'd inflicted when
he had been whacked out of his mind and ready to shoot
Krycek.

"Turn him. I need to check for an exit wound."

Grey and Frohike carefully rolled Mulder onto his side.
Scully touched the blood soaked shirt, feeling her tensed
muscles relax. The bullet had passed through cleanly.
Mulder would be hurting for a few weeks, but the damage
would eventually heal.

"Here." Byers pressed another folded piece of cloth into her
hand, along with a belt.

She accepted it and smiled tightly, quickly and efficiently
binding the wounds. Mulder was out cold, not even
twitching when she tightened the belt to exert pressure. His
depth of unconsciousness troubled her, but she shoved the
worry aside. First order of business was getting him the hell
out of this forest. She'd deal with the rest later.

"That's all I can do here. He needs a hospital." She looked
at Grey. "It's a long way to the car. Are you going to be
able to carry him?"

Grey smiled but his voice was hoarse with emotion. "It
won't be the first time I've had to haul his ass out of the
woods." He brushed his fingers along her bruised cheek.
"How 'bout you? You took a helluva knock from that gun."

"I'll be a lot better once we get out of here." Scully
stiffened and gripped Grey's arm. "The device! What
happened to it? Mulder--"

"Easy." Grey covered her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"We found it in his pocket. It's been taken care of."

"Grey, I know I don't have to tell you how dangerous that
thing is. We don't really understand how it works; they
could still be homing in on it."

"Uh...no. They can't."

Scully turned toward Langly, whose gaze shifted between
her and Grey. "You can't be sure of that."

"Actually...we can." Frohike waved at hand at Langly.
"Show her the device, Einstein."

Langly reached into his pocket and pulled out a
handkerchief. Folded up inside, shards of the rock mixed
with delicate filaments and a glistening viscous substance.
"We, um, smashed it. Between two stones."

"YOU smashed it," Frohike said, then added grudgingly.
"Not that I tried to stop you."

"It was the only way I could think of to shut it off." Langly
ducked his head. "Sorry, Scully."

She stared at the bizarre mixture of organic and inorganic
material. Our concrete proof of extraterrestrial
intelligence. Mulder's gonna go ballistic. And then the
implication sank in and she smiled. Mulder was going to go
ballistic. Thank God.

Scully sighed. "Forget it, Langly. Let's get out of here. I
think I've had enough of Mother Nature to last a lifetime."

Grey stood and pulled Mulder across his shoulders. "You
and me both, darlin'. You and me both."


Georgetown Medical Center
12:31 AM

God, he was tired. Grey leaned against the back of the
elevator and closed his eyes. His back ached like a son of a
bitch and the muscles in his legs thrummed with
exhaustion. Since his destination was the third floor, he
didn't move when the car stopped at the next level and
someone stepped inside.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but...you look like shit."

Grey opened his eyes. "Walt. Didn't realize you'd be the
one handling damage control. Guess Dana figured she'd
better call in the big guns."

Skinner frowned. "When I talked to Scully she said you
were second guessing what you'd done. I'd hoped she was
mistaken."

"Guess it's just further proof that a penchant for guilt really
can be hereditary." The elevator doors rumbled open and
Grey got out.

Skinner caught hold of his arm. "Don't. You're a cop, Grey,
so think like one. You were looking at an agitated and
extremely unstable individual holding an agent hostage."

Grey jerked free from his grasp. "That unstable individual
happened to be my brother, damn it! I *shot* my own
brother." He ran a hand through his hair and cupped the
back of his neck. "We were in the middle of the wilderness,
Walt. If I'd hit an artery, a vital organ, Dana--"

"But you didn't. They're alive right now because you had
the balls to make a tough decision. Don't cheapen it with
self-pity."

Grey glared at him, then stalked down the hallway. Scully
stood as they approached the waiting room. Under the
harsh fluorescent lighting her shadowed eyes, bruised
cheek, and mud-spattered clothing made her look like a
battered child.

"Sir." She tucked a tangled strand of hair behind her ear.
"Thank you for getting here so quickly. The staff has
naturally expressed concern over the nature of Mulder's
injury."

"I'll take care of it, Scully." Skinner's gruff voice softened.
"Are you all right?"

She touched her cheek, then quickly dropped her hand. "I'm
fine. They put Mulder in a regular room. The bullet went
straight through without complications. Nick said it should
heal well, no muscle or nerve damage." She directed the
information to Grey. "He's with Mulder now."

"He's going to be all right, then," Skinner said.

"He should be."

Skinner frowned. "Should be?"

"He hasn't regained consciousness, sir. Frankly, there's no
reason for it. Nick is...concerned."

"Speaking of which..." Grey gestured behind her.

Nick Brewer emerged from a room on the right side of the
hallway. He jotted something on a chart before slipping it
into the pocket outside the door.

"Nick." Scully walked quickly to meet him.

Nick slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed,
nodding to Skinner and Grey. "He's starting to come
around."

Scully sagged. "Thank God."

"It's encouraging, but it's only a first step. He's in and out,
and when he's in, he's not making much sense." Nick
rubbed his jaw. "I know you said he didn't hit his head, and
I see no evidence of trauma. But he's behaving as if he's
concussed."

Grey raised an eyebrow. "Are you thinking what I'm
thinking?" he asked Scully.

"There must have been a neurological connection between
Mulder and the calling device in order for them to control
his behavior."

"So when Langly smashed the device--"

"It was like hanging up a phone."

"Slamming it down, I'd say."

"It's possible such an abrupt disconnection could act like a
blow to the head." Seeing Nick's slack-jawed stare, she
hastened to explain. "You see they had a kind of transmitter
that also--"

Nick held up both hands. "Later. I think I'd really rather
hear this story over a cup of coffee--preferably with a shot
of brandy. Meanwhile, I'll schedule Mulder for an MRI to
be on the safe side. You can go in and see him, but just for
a few minutes."

Scully touched his arm. "Thanks, Nick. I'm sorry for
dragging you in here at this hour. I know you'd already
worked a full shift today."

He smiled and patted her hand. "De nada. One thing I can
say about being Mulder's physician--it's never routine."

Grey followed Scully toward Mulder's room, slowing when
he realized Skinner had remained behind. "Walt?"

"Go ahead. I'll straighten things out with the admitting
doctor."

Grey experienced a nasty case of déjà vu when he walked
into the room--the pungent smell, the dim lighting, and Fox
lying so pale and still. Had it only been two weeks since
that hospital in Virginia? His sense of anger and
helplessness felt the same.

He moved closer, wincing at the sight of the bandages
swathing his brother's shoulder. This time he was
responsible for putting Fox in that bed.

Scully held Mulder's hand and stroked the hair back from
his brow. When he opened his eyes, she smiled.

"Hey."

He blinked, struggling to focus on her face, and mumbled
something unintelligible.

She leaned in closer. "What?"

He licked his lips. "Help me. Don'...don't want to go."

Scully looked at him blankly for a moment, then tears filled
her eyes. "It's all right, Mulder. You're safe now. You're not
going anywhere."

Mulder's eyes slid shut. Grey, thinking he'd fallen asleep,
was startled when his brother spoke again.

"Knew...lies...couldn't stop."

"It wasn't your fault." Grey crossed to the other side of the
bed. "They were controlling you through that damn rock.

He turned toward Grey's voice. When he opened his eyes, a
tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared. "Too
strong...God, couldn't stop."

Grey swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Hey, it's
okay. It's over."

"Scully." Mulder lifted an unsteady hand to her cheek.
"Hurt you."

"Shhh." She pressed a kiss to his palm, then resumed the
soothing motion of her fingers through his hair. "Don't,
love. I'm all right."

A nurse stuck her head in the doorway. "I'll be taking
Agent Mulder down for his MRI in a few minutes. If you'd
like to grab a cup of coffee he should be back in his room
in about half an hour."

"Thank you." Scully looked down at Mulder, who had
slipped into a doze, and lowered her voice. "Guess that's
our cue." She kissed his forehead and walked to the door.

Grey lingered, watching the slow rise and fall of his
brother's chest. He turned to leave but Fox's soft voice
called him back.

"Grey."

"Yeah, Fox."

His brother touched his bandaged shoulder. "Thank you."

Eyes burning, all he could do was nod.


Continued in Chapter 21


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


Chapter 21

Georgetown
Friday
11:47 AM

Daytime television sucked.

Mulder tossed the remote on the coffee table, hissing when
the movement pulled at his stitches. Tugging on the pillows
at his back, he searched vainly for a comfortable position.
No matter what he tried, something ached, throbbed,
twinged, or spasmed. Besides the gunshot wound, he'd
racked up a pretty impressive collection of cuts, scrapes,
and bruises on his little jaunt through the forest.

Come to think of it, trees sucked, too.

Grey emerged from the kitchen, juggling two prescription
bottles and a sandwich. "Time for your meds. Dana said to
make sure you eat first." He wrinkled his nose. "She gave
me a graphic description of what might happen if you
don't."

"One of the perks to having a doctor in the family." Mulder
scooted upright, grimacing.

"Here." Grey handed him the plate and adjusted his
pillows.

Mulder peeked under the top slice of bread. "Roast beef
and cheddar--hey! This looks like it's from Scooby's!"

"It is. I stopped by on my way over. Dana sounded so
desperate to get to the grocery store, I figured the
cupboards must be bare."

Mulder bit into the sandwich and hummed his approval.
"God, I love Scooby's."

"I know." Grey watched him eat. "What do you want to
drink?"

"Should be a pitcher of tea in the fridge."

Grey disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a large
glass. He placed it on the coffee table within easy reach and
sat down in an armchair.

"Thanks." Mulder took a sip and made a face. "Damn
caffeine-free tea."

Grey popped up. "Hang on." Another trip to the kitchen and
now he held a slice of fresh lemon in his hand. "Maybe this
ease the pain."

Mulder swallowed and raised an eyebrow. "Uh...thanks."

Grey perched on the edge of his chair for a few minutes,
then stood, rubbing his arms. "Seems a little chilly in here.
Should I bump up the heat? Or I could get you a blanket."

His brother was halfway across the room before Mulder
found his voice. "Grey?"

"Hmm?" He squinted at the thermostat, fiddling with the
dial.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Grey gaped at him for a moment, then scowled. "Wrong
with me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're acting strange."

"*Strange*?"

"Yeah, you know. All this." Mulder gestured around him.
"The sandwich, the pillows, the lemon. What's up with
that?"

Grey folded his arms. "What's...? Nothing is *up*. I'm just
trying to help. Heck, it's not like I've never waited on you
before."

"Yeah, but this is different. I mean, you're practically
*hovering*. It reminds me of when Samantha broke my bat
and she..." He broke off and narrowed his eyes.

"Look, if you don't want my help, that's fine. I'll just go eat
my own lunch." Grey stalked toward the kitchen.

"You're beating yourself up because you had to shoot me."

Grey froze; his back and shoulders went rigid under his
denim shirt. Mulder shoved aside his plate and sat up
straighter, ignoring the pain. "That's bullshit, Grey."

His brother came back and sank into the chair. "You don't
get it."

Mulder laughed. "You've got to be kidding. Guilt is my
middle name."

"It's not guilt." When Mulder just looked at him, Grey
amended, "Not exactly. Deep down I know there wasn't
anything else I could have done."

"But?"

"It's not that simple."

"Sure it is. I was hurting Scully. And my debut as alien
abductee was about to become a recurring role. You
stopped it the only way you could."

"You're not hearing me. I know I did the right thing. I'm
just having some trouble living with it." Grey pressed his
clasped hands to his forehead and shut his eyes. "I can't
shake it. The bullet spraying blood as it hits your shoulder.
Your eyes opening wide, then squeezing shut when the pain
kicks in. Dana's scream. You drop--" He pressed his lips
tightly together.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't." Grey lowered his hands and looked at Mulder. "I
don't mean for you to be sorry, Fox."

"You know, this isn't the first time I've been shot." Mulder
smirked. "It isn't even the first time I've been shot by a
family member--though technically Scully was just a good
friend at the time."

Grey stared at him. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to
feel better?"

"My shoulder hurts like hell. But it will heal. I'll heal. If
they'd taken me...God, Grey. I couldn't do that again. I'm so
damn grateful you were there."

They sat in awkward silence. Mulder picked up the rest of
his sandwich, then cleared his throat.

"So if it helps you to, you know, hover, go right ahead."

Grey snorted. "That's big of you." He poked the remote
with his toe. "Anything good on TV?"

"Nothing. If I see another talk show I might lose what's left
of my mind. I was going to put on a movie."

"Yeah? Which one?"

"Plan 9 From Outer Space."

"Never heard of it. Is that some kind of campy Sci Fi
flick?"

"You're kidding, right? You've never seen it? Plan 9 is a
classic--the standard by which all Science Fiction movies
should be measured."

"Uh-huh."

Mulder waved toward the kitchen. "Go get your lunch.
You're in for a treat."

"Why do those words strike fear in my heart?"

"Very funny. You know, I liked you better when you were
hovering."

"Just start the movie."

Mulder's smiled smugly. "If you insist."


4:36 PM


*The light beckons him--bright like the sun, but so cold. He
shrinks back from its icy touch, but the voices whispering in
his head reassure him and then it's not so bad. He needs it,
needs Them, a craving far stronger than his one-time
nicotine addiction.

"Mulder, stop! Don't do this!"

Scully's tear-filled eyes are almost as compelling as the
light.

Almost.

He tightens his grip on her hair and shoves the gun under
her chin, moving them both into the brilliance. Under the
light Scully looks translucent, even her eyes washed of
color.

"What are you doing? Mulder, no!" She's screaming now,
fighting him despite the weapon.

He smiles. "Don't you get it, Scully? You're coming, too."*

Mulder bolted upright, panting. The dull throbbing in his
shoulder dissolved the lingering images of his dream. He
looked around, surprised to find himself lying on the couch.

"Hey. Are you all right?"

Scully turned on the lamp and moved into the room.
Nodding, he shifted his legs so she could sit beside him.
She tugged aside his tee shirt, checking his bandage, then
brushed sweat-damp hair off his forehead.

"Monday, Mulder. We're getting this cut. There's
something inherently wrong about your hair being longer
than Grey's."

"Speaking of Grey--where did he go? We were watching a
movie."

"That was four hours ago. You dropped off after the first
thirty minutes. He said to tell you that you should seriously
rethink your definition of a classic."

"He's at Kristen's?"

She nodded, linking her fingers with his. "He promised he'd
stop by tomorrow before he leaves." Scully studied his
face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Mulder, every muscle in your body just tensed up. Is it
that Grey's going home? You know he doesn't have a
choice--he's been on leave from work for nearly two
months."

Mulder looked away, his face expressionless. "Of course he
has to go home. He's put his life on hold for us...for me. It's
not like he can hang around here indefinitely on the off
chance I might lose it again."

Scully frowned. "What exactly was this latest nightmare
about?"

He shrugged, careful to keep his tone light. "Just your
standard post-attempted-alien-abduction trauma."

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Not this time."

Scully pressed on, despite his curt tone. "The device was
destroyed, Mulder. You're not going to 'lose it' again."
When he didn't answer, she tightened her fingers. "What
are you thinking?"

He gazed at their joined hands. "That the device was just
one means to an end. That either of us could be taken again,
at any time. That the only way to free ourselves and
eliminate the threat of colonization is by finding the proof
that will expose Them." He sighed. "I can't run away from
this, Scully. I have to go back to work. I have to go back to
the Files."

Scully waited a beat before speaking. "Then I suppose it's a
good thing Nick thinks you'll be cleared for duty in a few
weeks."

Mulder lifted his head, searching her face. "You don't
sound particularly surprised."

"Maybe because I'm not." She sat forward, turning to face
him.

"But when we talked before I said--"

"Ten years, Mulder. You think I don't know you by now? It
doesn't really matter what brought you to this quest for the
Truth--the strategies of evil men or your own insatiable
curiosity. You won't accept defeat. It's what I saw in you
when we first met. It's why I followed you. And a part of
why I fell in love with you."

"And look what it's gotten you."

Scully smiled. "I don't know. The view doesn't seem too
bad."

"How can you say that? Consider what the years have cost
you, Scully. Your abduction, Melissa's death, cancer, your
ability to have children...

"And what have they brought you? Not Samantha, not even
that concrete proof that extraterrestrial life exists. Nothing
you set out to find. But even now, you won't give up." She
cupped his cheek. "You've always said you want to believe,
Mulder. So what is it you want to believe in?"

Mulder leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. "I want
to believe that the dead aren't lost to us. That their
sacrifices are part of a plan--one greater than any alien
force. But most of all, I want to believe we can find the
power to save ourselves."

Scully kissed him and rubbed her thumb lightly across his
lower lip. "Then we believe the same thing."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Haven't you figured it out? I believe in *you*."

Mulder pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her
forehead. "Then maybe...maybe there is hope."


Concluded in the Epilogue


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


Bethesda
Thursday
3:21 PM


Mulder stood on the porch for a full minute before finally
pressing the bell. He shuffled his feet, tightening his grip on
the package tucked beneath his arm. The door opened and
he straightened his posture, wincing when his shoulder
twinged.

Tomie peered through the screen, her face lighting up.
"Well now, you're a sight for sore eyes. I was beginning to
think you'd fallen off the face of the earth." She smiled.
"No pun intended."

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced. If this is a bad
time..."

"Nothing bad about it. I was just sitting down to a cup of
coffee. Come join me." She ushered him inside before he
could answer.

Mulder followed the familiar path to the kitchen. He raised
an eyebrow at the spotless countertops. "No Bread?
Cookies?"

"Ah, well. We old ladies run out of steam now and then,
don't we? But I can pull out the pie pans if it'll make you
happy."

Mulder grinned. "The coffee will be fine, thanks. Oh, and
this is for you. For when you do decide to pull out those
pans." He placed the wrapped package into her hands.
"Consider it an early Christmas present."

Frowning a little as she hefted it, Tomie tore off a bit of the
paper and burst into hearty laughter.

"I figured I owed you one." Mulder watched as she
removed the rest of the wrapping from the five-pound bag
of flour. "More than one, actually."

"I'll see that you and Dana reap some of the benefits from
this." Tomie set the flour on the counter. "So, how are you
doing? It's been more than four weeks."

"Yeah. There was a...situation. I was injured and--"

"I know." She motioned for him to sit and picked up the
coffeepot. "Dana called me right after you came home from
the hospital. How's the shoulder?"

"She told you everything?"

"She gave me the bare bones." Tomie set a mug of coffee
on the table in front of him and eyed him cautiously. "Are
you angry?"

"No, I just..." Mulder frowned. "I'm not sure why she didn't
tell me she talked to you."

"She didn't want to pressure you. She hoped if she gave you
some space you'd make the decision to come back here on
your own." Tomie collected her own mug and sat across
from him. "Have you?"

Mulder rotated the cup between his palms. "I'm here, aren't
I?"

"True. But then, we could just be two friends having a chat
over a bag of flour, now, couldn't we?" When Mulder's lips
twitched weakly, she continued, "I try not to make
assumptions, Mulder. Every time I do they come back to
bite me in the ass."

"I stopped taking the Paxil. And the sedative." Mulder
looked squarely into her eyes.

Tomie just nodded. "Flashbacks?"

"Only one or two a week. And they're not as intense."

"Sleeping?"

Mulder shrugged. "I've struggled with that most of my life.
It's no worse now than it's ever been."

"Sounds like you're feeling better."

"I am."

"So why are you here?"

"You're not buying the two old friends bit?"

Tomie sighed. "Back to the mind games? I thought we were
past that, kiddo."

Mulder pushed aside the mug and sat back in his chair. "I'm
here because there are some things I can't talk about to
anyone else." He looked away. "Not even Scully."

Tomie's voice gentled. "Fair enough." She sipped her
coffee until he spoke.

"Scully's told you about the device? How They...called
me?"

"She did." Tomie paused, then added, "I know I don't have
to tell you that you're not responsible for anything you did
while under its influence."

Mulder waved a hand. "I've dealt with that. I hate what I
did to Scully, but even I recognize how powerless I was."

"Okay."

Mulder stood and walked over to the window, facing away
from her. "I was out there, in the middle of nowhere. No
one in sight. They could have taken me at any time."

"But Dana and Grey found you."

"Hours later."

"Soon enough to stop you from being abducted a second
time. You were very lucky."

"That's what's bothering me."

Tomie shook her head. "You're going to have to spell it out,
Mulder. I have no idea where you're going with this."

Mulder turned around. "The device worked; I was right
where they wanted me to be. What were They waiting for?"

"You obviously have a theory."

Mulder rubbed at the headache building over his right eye.
"They came as soon as I grabbed Scully."

Tomie leaned forward, frowning. "Meaning?"

"I think they intended to take us both."

Tomie blinked, fumbling for a response. "That's one hell of
a leap, Mulder."

"Believe me, I've given this a lot of thought. I've gone over
it from every angle. I *want* to be wrong."

"But you don't think you are."

"What was the point in sending me back only to take me
again a few weeks later? Why not just keep me? And if
they wanted me so damn bad, why not beam me up and get
the hell out of Dodge when They had the chance?" Mulder
sank back into his chair. "They let me go for a reason. I was
bait, Tomie. They were using me to get Scully."

Tomie's brown eyes were warm, her voice gentle. "If that's
true it puts a whole new spin on things. You haven't shared
this with Dana?"

"No. And for now, I don't intend to."

"You don't think she has the right to know?" she asked
sharply. "That's bullshit, Mulder."

"You don't understand."

"Enlighten me."

Mulder closed his eyes as he sucked in a calming breath.
"Scully had cancer five years ago. It was a direct result of
her abduction. She nearly died."

"I'm sorry. But I still don't see how that justifies your
keeping this from her."

"The cancer could return at any time. Scully is one of the
bravest people I know, and she's done a damn fine job of
putting aside her fear. But that tiny seed of doubt is always
there, Tomie. When she's exhausted, or has a headache, or
a nosebleed. It's a burden she lives with day to day."
Mulder clenched his jaw. "I will NOT add to that burden."

"I see." Tomie swirled the dregs of coffee in her cup. "I'll
admit I don't know Dana well, but from what I've seen she's
not the kind of woman who'd appreciate you playing the
protector. You do realize this could all blow up in your
face? It'll be bad enough if Dana finds out you've been less
than honest with her. But if something should happen, if
she's taken--"

"She won't be."

"You know you can't guarantee that."

"I'll find a way." Mulder spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm
going to stop Them, Tomie. Maybe not tomorrow, or next
week, or even next year. But I believe I will find a way to
put an end to this, once and for all. If that makes me crazy,
well..." He shrugged.

"Maybe I'm the crazy one. I believe you just might do it."
Tomie patted his hand. "And what about you? How are you
holding up under your burdens?"

"By taking each day as it comes, I guess." Mulder
grimaced. "Right now ending the threat of alien invasion
doesn't seem nearly as impossible as getting on an elevator
without breaking into a cold sweat."

"Ah, now ya see, you're in luck. I can't help you with the
first part, but I'm sure we can work on the second. Provided
you're willing, of course."

"Well...I suppose there are those pies to make."

Tomie chuckled. "Before I'm through with you, you'll be
baking Dana's birthday cake with your own two hands."
She looked intently into his eyes. "You're going to be all
right, Mulder."

Her words startled a smile onto his lips and a little of the
weight lifted from his shoulders. "Yeah. I think I will be."

For the first time, he believed it.


END

Author's Notes: Wow! What a ride! Thank you to the
readers braved a WIP and made this 8-month journey with
me. Your kind words of encouragement have made it a
wonderful experience. And major thanks to my wonderful
team of betas: To Suzanne, for making sure the medical
stuff was accurate. To Deb, not just for beta, but for the
title suggestion and the incredible webpage design. To
Vickie, for cheering me onward and keeping them all in
character. And to TCS1121 for making me work hard for
every chapter. (Grey's on his way over, hon. You earned
it!)