TWISTER

by Suzanne Bickerstaffe (ecksphile@earthlink.net)
and Carol Jenner (Agnt CJ@aol.com)
originally posted April 30, 1996

SUMMARY:        Mulder and Scully are drawn into investigating
        a lethal meteorological phenomenon (and a chilling
        conspiracy) by a woman from Mulder's past.

CLASSIFICATION: X,S, Mulder/other (sorta), M/S UST

RATING: Hmmmm.  Somewhere between PG-13 and R for language,
        violence and brief scenes of an adult nature.

SPOILERS:       Hmmmm again.  This was written towards the end of
        the third season (US) and is set in an alternate (though closely
        parallel) universe.  References to any episode up to that time is
        possible, but the action in this story is not dependent on having
        seen them.

DISCLAIMER:     Mulder, Scully and Skinner are property of Ten
        Thirteen Productions/Fox Network and Chris Carter.  They
        were used deliberately and without permission, in the hopes
        that CC is an understanding chap (all evidence to the contrary)
        and will forgive us. The other characters and scenes are ours
        and ours alone, but Chris Carter may borrow them any time he
        likes as long as we get a screen credit.  Can't ask for fairer
        than that, Chris.  May be copied and archived at will, as long as
        the story remains unchanged, no one profits financially, and our
        names remain attached as authors.

ARTICLE:





Any and all comments are welcome.  Enjoy the story.

TWISTER

Chapter One

Washington D.C.
Tuesday, February 13
8:30 a.m.


     Grasping her coffee and briefcase in one hand, Scully
opened the door to the basement office she shared with her partner
to find him leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk,
reading the headlines of the Washington Post.

     He glanced up, tension, fear and hope warring for pre-
eminence on his expressive face.  "There's been another one."

     "I know."  She put down her belongings on her desk and
went to hang up her raincoat. "I saw it on CNN this morning as I was
dressing. The video was terrifying."

     "Six, Scully.  This makes the sixth tornado to strike a
comparatively small area in just over three weeks."  He pushed up
from his chair to hand her the newspaper.  As she scanned the
article, he peered over her shoulder.  "Do you have any idea of the
odds of that happening?  Especially at this time of year?"  His voice
was tight with barely suppressed excitement.

     "No, Mr. Spock, what are the odds?"  Although her tone was
as dry as dust, her eyes betrayed a spark of humor and relief.
Mulder had been moping around for almost a month now. Inexplicably,
there had been a slump in the kinds of cases to which their little
department owed its existence.  There had been rumors that if things
didn't pick up, the X-Files would be closed... not that those sorts
of rumors were unusual. But this time the threat weighed upon both
of them more heavily.  To make matters worse, as a result of the lack
of more interesting work, the case audit which they had successfully
postponed for a busy eighteen months could no longer be avoided.
Scully had seen her partner, normally excited and enthusiastic in his
work, become bored and sulky as time (and the stacks of paperwork)
went on and no case appeared to reprieve them.

     And then the South Dakota storms started.  First, there were
violent thunderstorms, themselves an anomaly from the kind of weather
the Midwest normally had in late winter.  But after a season of
peculiar weather nationwide, the storms hardly merited notice, what
with the flood damage in the Pacific Northwest and the blizzards and
bone-chilling cold in the East.  The storms went on, however,
becoming more severe until finally tornadoes were spawned.  The first
tore up several hundred yards of prairie outside Capa.  Some livestock
had been lost, some fencing destroyed, but due to the sparce
population of the area, no human lives had been taken.  A few days
later, Zeona suffered a tornado, a huge farm completely decimated in
the process. Hundreds of head of cattle had been killed, but again,
more by good fortune than anything else, people had been spared.
After the third tornado struck, this one outside of Tuthill, the
National Weather Service had begun to take note and sent some
cyclone specialists to the area to take statements from witnesses.
This tornado was different - it had killed three people.

     Apparently, the season of the year was not the only odd thing
about the tornadoes.  The witnesses interviewed were all life-long
residents of the area, who lived close to the land and were well-used
to scanning summer skies for signs of killer storms.  Their stories
all correlated - these tornadoes were bizarre for a number of reasons.
For one thing, only a single funnel cloud was formed, and it became a
full-fledged tornado without fail.  Normally, many more funnel clouds
developed than actually became organized enough to touch down and
cause severe damage.  Also, the movement of these cyclones was odd.
Rather than bouncing around, or touching down and cutting a path of
devastation, these tornadoes seemed to hover twenty five to fifty feet
over a small area for several minutes and then just disappeared - lost
their shape and power and just - stopped.  Finally, the damage done
was different.  As if to make up for the fact that the area of damage
was unusually small, the devastation was also uncommonly
concentrated.  All tornadoes wreaked incredible devastation, as
residents of cyclone-plagued areas had good reason to know.  But
these tornadoes - it was as if they annihilated all biological life
where they struck. The scenes looked more like ground zero in
Hiroshima in August, 1945 than a weather disaster.

     "Look at this," Mulder said, pointing as he read.  " ...'The
behavior of the Hayes tornado appears to be a mirror image of the
one that struck Chadron, Nebraska only three days ago, and the
previous four which caused extensive damage outside Capa, Zeona,
Tuthill and Belvidere in South Dakota.  "It's just a miracle that all
these twisters have hit outside of the towns - otherwise we'd be
stacking the bodies like cordwood" said Rapid City meteorologist
Norman Jenkins.'...  I knew it, Scully - there IS something to this!"
He went over to his desk and, digging under stacks of files, began to
pull out his own notes on the subject.

     Mulder had started his research into the weather phenomenon
after reading some of the statements taken by the NWS on the bizarre
nature of the cyclones.  With his partner's blessing, he had taken a
few breaks from the backlogged paperwork and had talked to Weather
Service, NASA and military representatives in Washington, trying to
find out as much as he could about the bizarre Midwest weather
patterns.  Even when the agent was swamped with work coming into his
office, he was always looking for new things to appease his mind's
constant demands for knowledge.  Now, with mental stimulation at a
virtual standstill and his working knowledge of the subject
uncharacteristically limited, he devoured printed material on
tornadoes and other severe storms.  While he hadn't discovered
enough to form any theories, what he had read and heard certainly
gave credence to his suspicion that there was something unnatural
about the storms that begged for further investigation.

     "Mulder, you're a psychologist.  Right now you have to know
that you are displaying probably the greatest example of avoidance
behavior I've ever seen," Scully said, a smile playing at the corners
of her lips.  She went over to where he was sitting on the corner of
his desk and slid the notes out of his hands to peruse them herself.

     "I know that it appears that way, Scully.  And I won't deny
that anything right now looks pretty good compared to this... this La
Brea tar pit... of paperwork."  He grinned wryly, a lopsided,
self-effacing grin that he used with full knowledge of its effect on
his partner.  "But you *have* to admit that this is promising."

     "You think it's an X-File."

     He grasped his notes by the corners of the paper and tugged,
pulling her closer to him.  "I think it *could* be," he corrected
gently, seeking her eyes.

     "And your suspicion has nothing to do with the fact that we
haven't had a case in nearly a month and you're starting to get cabin
fever.  Well, I guess office fever would be more precise," she
replied, wrinkling her nose at the stacks which now seemed a
permanent fixture on both their desks.  She sighed. "I don't blame
you, Mulder. In fact, I share your suspicions, as well as your desire
to get the hell out of this damned office.  But unless someone
requests our services, I'm afraid we're stuck."  An expression of
regret on her face, she trudged over to her desk, sat, and half-
heartedly opened the top file in the mountain of paper on her desk.

     Sighing, he put away his notes and did the same.

                         - - - - -

Two Days Later

     The door clicked shut.  Still hunched over his desk, dutifully
pushing his pen across yet another form, Mulder murmured, "Okay,
Scully, I hope you remembered that it was your turn.  What did you get
us this morning - bagels or Danish?"

     "Well, neither, really."  A low throaty chuckle bubbled up
through perfect white teeth and full pink lips.  "Is that how you
greet an old friend - or have you forgotten me by now?"

     His head snapped up so fast he got dizzy.  "Candy?  Is that
you?"  He sprang up from his chair, almost stumbling over his feet in
his haste to reach the gorgeous creature who stood a few feet away.

     And she *was* gorgeous.  The tall willowy blond stood with
graceful ease just inside the room, clad in what would pass for a
business suit only in pages of the Victoria's Secret catalog.  The
scarlet of the silky fabric seemed to make her long, tousled hair
shimmer with light.  Her peaches and cream complexion covered perfect
bone structure.  Clear, moss green eyes crinkled at the corners as she
surveyed Mulder with amusement.  She stooped slightly to rest her
briefcase on the floor as he approached.  He grasped her hands as his
lips connected chastely with her cheek.  With a giggle she threw her
arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, her lips opening
enthusiastically beneath his.

     Almost as if fate were having a cosmic joke, Scully chose that
moment to walk in.

     "I can come back, if you'd rather," she offered drily.  She
tossed the waxed paper bag of pastries on her desk and, turning to
face them, leaned against it and crossed her arms in front of her.

     Mulder released the lovely woman from his arms and stepped
back a little guiltily.  "Uh. Oh...Scully.  This is an old friend.
Candace - Candy - McDermott. Candy, this is my partner, Dana Scully."
After a slow start, he was recovering nicely.  "Is it Dr. McDermott
now?"

     She nodded, her long tresses bouncing in a way Scully found
quite annoying.  "Yup, two years ago - I finally finished my
dissertation.  Hello, Dana.  It's nice to meet you."

     Candy offered her hand - a model's hand, with long, slimly-
sculptured fingers and perfectly manicured nails.  Scully grasped it
briefly, acutely aware of her own small, workmanlike hands and the
nail she had broken trying to unjam the stapler.

     "Nice to meet you, Dr. McDermott," she said, pleasantly but
coolly.

     "Oh, call me Candy, everyone does."

     I'll bet they do, Scully thought acidly.  "Candy, then.  Have
you known Mulder long?"

     "Oh, we go way back, don't we, Scorpy?"  She looked gaily over
towards Mulder, who looked hopefully at the floor for a hole to open
up and swallow him.

     Scully's eyebrows rose into her hairline.  "Scorpy?"

     "Uh...a nickname.  I was born in October and... uh, Candy was
interested in astrology at the time and so, uh...'Scorpy'... for...
Scorpio," Mulder finished weakly, with a shrug.

     "Uh-huh.  And how far back is 'way back'?"

     Candy sat on Mulder's desk and crossed the long shapely legs
shown off so well by the very short skirt of her suit.  "Let's see - I
think I was in my first year of my doctoral program, so that would
make it eight years ago.  I was just starting at M.I.T., and Scorpy
was working out of the Boston office of the FBI at the time."

     Although he flinched slightly at the nickname, Mulder seemed
grateful for the opportunity to explain.  "I was still with the VCS,
finishing a case profiling the serial killer of prostitutes in the
Combat Zone.  There were a lot of complications with the prosecution
of the case, and it was decided it was more cost-effective for me to
stay in Boston, so I was there about four months. I bumped into Candy
in Harvard Square."

     "He came to my rescue!" she corrected.  "My purse was snatched
and it had just about everything I owned at the time in it.  I yelled,
and Sc- I mean, Mulder, heard me and grabbed the guy as he tried to
run past him.  Before I knew what was happening, the guy was on the
ground in handcuffs and Mulder was handing me my purse back.  After
the cops took the guy away, I treated for lunch at the Wursthaus and
we got to know each other better.  And we saw quite a bit of each
other after that."  She sent a glowing smile his way.

     Uh-huh.  "What brings you to Washington?" Scully asked.

     "Working on another doctorate?"  Mulder teased, glad to cut
short the trip down Memory Lane.  Scully's face had that polite,
frozen look he had come to associate with uncomfortable situations -
uncomfortable for both of them.

     Candy laughed gaily.  "After I nearly set the New England
endurance record for the longest time to complete a dissertation?  No
way. I learned my lesson - I'm too easily distracted."  She hopped
down from the desk and glided over to her briefcase.  Placing it on
Mulder's desk, she opened it and extracted a sheaf of papers, handing
them to the agent.  "Have you been following this?"

     He scanned them briefly.  "The South Dakota tornadoes?  Yes I
have, as a matter of fact."  He looked up from the papers to slide a
glance over toward Scully, who was looking suspicious.

     "As you know, I got my doctorate in meteorology. For the past
two years, I've been at the University of Kansas, teaching and
conducting research on the nature of cyclonic activity.  Do you by any
chance have a slide projector?"

     "Uh - yeah, just a sec."  As Mulder set up the projector,
Candy took a box of slides from her briefcase and slipped on a pair of
gold wire-rimmed glasses which did nothing to diminish her beauty.  He
inserted the slides in the machine and Scully turned off the lights.

     "As I was saying.  My research for my dissertation and my
post-doctoral study has been involved with tornadoes."  She clicked
the changer and a picture of a cyclone cutting its way through a town
was projected on the wall.  She looked at it, her face aglow with
almost religious fervor.  "Incredible - the power.  It's just awesome.
I've been studying the nature of these storms, with a view to trying
to harness them in some way for the production of electrical power,
killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.  Producing massive
amounts of electricity cleanly and cheaply, and at the same time
defusing the massive destructive potential."  She clicked the changer
again to show a cutaway diagram of a tornado.

     "I don' t know how much you know about tornadoes...,"
McDermott said, looking questioningly from one to the other.  "Not
much?  Well, it's a cinch you two didn't grow up in the Midwest or
South then. I'm from Kansas originally, where the summer was tornado
season.  Even without getting a degree, there's things that everyone
there learns by osmosis about tornadoes.  Simply stated, they're
produced by the same things that produce thunderstorms - great
vertical instability of the air at ground level, high humidity, and
then a horizontal motion of low-level winds followed by uplift.  It's
a storm of extremely low barometric pressure with an intense updraft
in the center - that's what sucks things up.  Meanwhile, the winds
around the vortex average about 300 miles an hour.  Small wonder why
so much damage is done when they touch down."  The changer clicked
again to reveal horrific pictures of tornado damage.  "These are
pictures of Xenia, Ohio some years back.  I think they speak for
themselves."  She shut off the projector and Scully flipped the
lightswitch.

     She took a seat and the others did the same.  "Now, tornadoes
can act unpredictably, don't get me wrong.  Just when you think you
know where they're going to pop up, they appear somewhere else. Just
when you think you can predict where they'll touch down, they start
bouncing around.  But in a way, it's a predictable sort of
unpredictability, if you know what I mean."  She looked around to see
if the agents were following her line of reasoning.

     "Yes, I see what you're getting at, but I don't quite see
where you're going with it," Scully said, frowning slightly.  She had
been surprised at McDermott's reasoning abilities and her obvious
knowledge of her subject, and had had to revise her previous dismissal
of the beautiful woman.  In a few minutes she had gone from 'ditz' to
object of grudging admiration.  But after Mulder's sudden interest in
this precise topic and his desire to escape the humdrum paperwork, his
partner was more than a little suspicious of the timing.

     Candy nodded.  "Okay.  What I'm getting at is this.  The
storms they've been having in South Dakota - they shouldn't be
happening.  Or at least they shouldn't be happening like they are
happening, because they can't happen.  At least not like they are.
Happening, that is.  In other words...."  She stopped, frustrated with
trying to express her thoughts.

     "You really haven't changed too much, have you?" kidded Mulder
gently.  "Okay, stop for a minute to let your mouth catch up to your
prodigious brain.  Take a few breaths."  This looked like an old
exercise between the two of them as Candy followed his instructions,
and visibly appeared to relax.  Scully could see the fondness in his
expression, hear the caring in his voice.  Whoever this woman was, she
obviously had once been very special to him.  And maybe still was.

     Candy flashed him a grateful smile.  "What I mean is...there
are some very unusual things going on with those tornadoes.  Things
that are unnatural, that I would have bet money were impossible until
they started happening up there."

     "We read about some of those things - the hovering and
disappearing, the unusual concentration of destruction, the time of
year, certainly," replied Mulder.  "Is there anything else?"

     "Oh, yeah, a LOT else," Candy answered grimly.  "Most
tornadoes follow a southwest to northeast course - at least, tornadoes
not spawned by hurricanes.  Take a look at this."  She handed Mulder
a chart of the direction taken by the recent twisters.  There was no
such pattern.  In one case the path was due south, in one, due north,
in some cases due east, in others, it was northwest to southeast.
Only in Hayes was the path even remotely southwest to northeast.
Mulder looked at it wordlessly and passed it to Scully.  "And that's
not all.  I got in touch with some of the guys at UK in the
Engineering Department.  From the photographs of the damage done
on certain identifiable materials such as concrete, metals, and
different kinds of wood, they did some calculations.  They estimated
that the forces which literally tore apart these materials meant that
the vortex winds had to be well in excess of 450 miles per hour." She
passed the agents a file containing the close-up photographs of
destruction and pages of calculations.  Mulder flipped through, then
offered the file to Scully, who spent some time looking over the math
and physics, areas in which she felt much more secure than her
partner.  Then she looked up expectantly.

     "Why do I get the feeling you're saving the best for last?"
Scully said with a little smile.

     Candy regarded her with a little tilt to her head.  "You're
very intuitive.  You wouldn't be a Pisces, would you?  Anyway, yes, I
am saving the best for last," she responded.  "What is one of the few
things that almost everyone knows about tornadoes?  In the Northern
Hemisphere, the winds in a tornado always move in a counter-clockwise
direction - always.  But from the photographs and from the statements
of witnesses, all the evidence tells us that the winds in the South
Dakota and Nebraska tornadoes almost certainly moved clockwise!"

     There was silence in the little room.  If anything, Scully was
more taken aback than Mulder at this bombshell.  These were not only
killer storms, they were aberrations of science, freaks which existed
in defiance of physical law.

     "But how is that possible?" the diminutive agent questioned,
almost to herself.

     "How about it, Candy?"  Mulder asked quietly, frowning.  "Any
theories?"

     The meteorologist began packing up her slides and collecting
her papers.  "As a matter of fact, I do have a theory.  These things
cannot exist in nature.  As Dana pointed out, they are violations of
natural law."  She stopped to look at the two agents, trying to gauge
what she should say next.  She knew Mulder, knew a little of his past.
Scully was an unknown quantity.  She pushed her glasses further up
her nose and resolutely continued.  "Therefore, the only possible
explanation for their existence is that they are not natural
occurences but rather, created."

     "Created?  Created by whom?" demanded Scully.  "This is simply
not possible by any technology that I know of."

     "Candy?  Are you saying what I think you're saying?"  Mulder
had tensed.  His tone was very quiet and deadly serious.

     "Oh, yes.  I believe I am," she said calmly.  "The ultimate
origin of these storms must certainly be extraterrestrial."

                                 - - - - -

     How Scully held herself in check until after Dr. McDermott had
left she would never know.  She had been sorely tested for the past
month by mountains of tedious paperwork and a restless, grouchy
Mulder.  Next, she had been intimidated (and hated herself for it) by
the beautiful mystery woman from her partner's past.  Then, she had
been shaken by the apparent failure of scientific law.  And finally,
she had endured Candy's theory that aliens, or at the very least
technology created by aliens, were the root cause of the South
Dakota tornadoes.

     She had said little in response, letting Mulder and Candy do
most of the talking, though her partner knew by her expression that
she would not remain so quiet when Candy left.  He had accepted the
meteorologist's invitation to dine and to 'catch up on old times' as
much to hasten her departure before Scully's inevitable explosion as
he did because he wanted to spend more time with her.  Well, almost
as much.

     For some time after Dr. McDermott left, both agents busied
themselves in cleaning up the coffee cups, putting away the projector,
and avoiding the topic which was at the forefront of their minds.
Finally, Scully broke the tense silence.  "Alright, Mulder.  Tell me
the truth.  Did you put her up to this?"

     "Scully!  Of course not!", he cried in protest.  He tried not
very successfully to look hurt.  Then he looked at her frankly,
meeting her eyes, and his tone changed.  "Honest, Scully.  I haven't
seen Candy in almost five years, and I haven't even talked to her in
three.  I didn't set this up.  I won't deny I'll be glad to get out of
this office for a while and get my brain working again, but this is as
big a surprise to me as it is to you."

     She sighed and nodded.  "Okay, I believe you.  But we're not
out of here yet, we still have to get Skinner to agree."

     "Our services have been requested by no less than an
upstanding academic institution.  I don't know how he can say no."
He caught her look.  "Well, okay, maybe he could say no.  Will you
go plead our case?  He'll take it better from you."

     "Our case?  WHAT case, Mulder?  The one about pissed-off
aliens wiping out the Midwest using laser beams to create tornadoes?
Or the one about Evil Ultra-Secret Government Forces using alien
technology to spawn killer cyclones?  Which do YOU think will be more
persuasive to Skinner?"  She crossed her arms in front of her and
waited for his reply.

     Mulder threw himself into his chair and regarded his partner
from across the room.  With that flush to her cheeks and the fire
snapping in her eyes.... He shook himself from his daydream with a
slight upturn to his lips.  "Okay, I admit that Candy's theories are
not going to float Skinner's boat.  So how do you think you can sell
it?  Don't you think that there's something odd going on with the
storms?"

     Exasperated, she sat on the corner of his desk.  "Of course I
do.  I'm just not sure if we're the ones who should be investigating
the phenomena."

     "Who better than us?"

     "Who better than us?  Oooh, here's a radical thought, Mulder!
How about a team of meteorologists?  People who know what they're
doing in the subject."

     "Well, Candy's going, she's a meteorologist."

     "What do you mean, Candy's going?  What IS she to you, anyway,
Mulder?"  Scully demanded.

     "She's a friend - a close friend."  Mulder looked up
hopefully, but saw that his partner was not satisfied, and sighed.
"All right, you want the whole story?"  At her nod, he sighed and
began.

     "When I arrived in Boston to work on the Phelps case, I
was...kind of a mess.  The previous case - the abductions and murders
of black preschool children in the Chicago area - had been ...
emotionally draining, to say the least.  Somewhere someone decided
that the best thing would be for me to 'get back on my horse again'
immediately, I guess the theory being that if I immersed myself in
something else, I wouldn't have time to brood. Just as soon as we had
hunted down the sick creep in Chicago, I was driven to O'Hare and
packed off on a plane to Boston.  So I got there on no sleep and damn
little food in the previous forty-eight hours.  The first break I got
was twenty four hours later when I passed out, which the ASAC took as
a sign from God that it would be okay to give me the weekend off.  I
slept for the first day, then just got out and walked, revisiting old
haunts."

     "And you saved Candy's purse."

     "And I saved Candy's purse.  We got to talking over lunch.
She's really brilliant, Scully.  So many people have always taken her
at face value, thinking that she's an airheaded bimbo, but she's not."
He looked at her anxiously, as if it were important to him that she
believed him.

     "She certainly was convincing about her knowledge of
tornadoes, Mulder.  I don't doubt what you say," she replied softly.
She noted his appreciative expression, and relaxed to the tones of his
voice.

     "Candy looks like she's never seen a bad day, but in actuality
she hasn't had the best life.  She was an only child.  Her parents
died in an auto accident when she was in her early teens, and her
father's brother was given custody.  Her aunt tossed her out a year or
so later, when she thought that her husband was showing more than an
avuncular interest in the girl.  According to Candy, it was true, her
uncle was a letch and getting thrown out was probably the best thing
that could have happened to her.  By a weird series of events, her
plight was featured in the local newspaper, as well as the fact that
her IQ was somewhere in the 160 range.  She ended up being fostered by
a UK professor and her family, and things improved from that point
on."  He leaned back in his seat and crossed his hands behind his
head.

     "But she does have her quirks.  Candy's almost too smart.
Sometimes her brain races ahead of her mouth.  And she has the
shortest attention span of any adult I have ever met - in my
professional opinion, I would say pathologically short, a case of
Attention Deficit Disorder if there ever was one.  The only thing
that can hold her attention is her work - and even that has suffered
from distractions.  For a scientist, she is curiously drawn to the
mystical - auras, astrology, karma.  And she has always had a
deep and unquestioning belief in the existence of extraterrestrial
beings - even before she met me," he said, with a knowing curve
to his lips. "She even believes she was abducted."  He sat forward
and over steepled hands watched his partner closely for her reaction.

     She carefully kept her expression neutral.  "Do you think she
was?"

     Scully's come a long way, Mulder thought appreciatively.  He
smiled and shook his head.  "No.  Candy's imagination is legion.  I
think she just internalized an abduction story she saw on tv and
remembered it as her own experience.  But it does account for her
affinity to things 'not of this world'.

     "A short attention span can also wreak havok on a personal
life," his partner commented gently.

     Mulder looked up, catching his partner's eyes.  "Very
perceptive, Agent Scully."  He was silent for a while, and she gave
him the space to order his thoughts and decide what he wanted to
share and what he didn't.  Finally, he said softly, "It was very, very
good while it lasted, but even I didn't kid myself that it would last
forever.  But it was still...painful...when inevitably, I couldn't
hold her attention any more.  That time just about coincided with
the conclusion of the case.  I left to return to Washington soon
after."

     They were both quiet for a while.  Scully reached out to give
his hand a comforting squeeze, then slid off his desk.  Picking up the
file Candy had left, she flipped through it.  "It's getting late.
I'll look this over and decide the best way to approach Skinner, then
get up there and see him before he goes home for the night."

     "Thanks, Scully."  He stood and pulled on his suitcoat, then
his overcoat.  "I'll stop by the Gunmen on my way to Candy's hotel."

     He was almost out the door when he heard her voice, and
glanced back.

     "Mulder... be careful, okay?"  Her eyes mirrored concern.

     "I don't think I have anything to fear from Frohike, Scully."

     "It wasn't him I was talking about."



END of Chapter One



Chapter Two


Over South Dakota
Wednesday, February 14
Noon


     The drone of the jet's engines and the small amount of sleep
she had gotten the night before should have ensured that Scully would
have dozed off by this stage.  Unfortunately she remained as tense,
worried and annoyed as she had been ever since Candace McDermott,
Ph.D. had walked into their lives.

     After Mulder had left to see the Gunmen, she read over the
documents Candy had brought and went upstairs, catching Skinner as
he was on his way out.  The A.D. had not been overwhelmed by the
evidence, in fact had agreed with Scully's initial reaction that there
were far better qualified people to be exploring the South Dakota
storms than his two problem agents.

     "We will have a meteorologist with us, sir," she reminded him.

     Skinner had looked at her speculatively, with eyes narrowed.
"And does Agent Mulder have any theories about the cause of these
tornadoes?"

     She was relieved that she could stick to the truth.  "Uh, not
really, sir.  He had been following them, had done some research,
but hadn't yet arrived at any theories as to their cause. Then, Dr.
McDermott contacted us and requested our help."

     "Does Dr. McDermott have any theories?"

     She was prepared for that one.  A half-truth would have to
suffice.  "Nothing concrete, sir, all pretty much guesswork at this
time.  That's why she wants our help."

     "And you don't feel I should be highly suspicious of the
coincidence here?  That someone comes along and asks Mulder to
investigate something he was researching on his own anyway? Not
to mention that you two have a nice opportunity to avoid finishing
your case audits?"  Head cocked to one side, he observed her
reaction.

     "I can see how you might think that, sir," Scully said evenly.
She shrugged.  "I admit, it's a hell of a coincidence. You're
certainly free to believe what you want to believe.  But coincidence
or not, it doesn't detract from the scientific data we have that says
there is something very unusual about these storms.  And it doesn't
detract from the fact that a high-ranking professor at a prestigious
university has asked for our assistance."

     Skinner looked directly into her eyes and she returned his
stare calmly.  He hesitated, then seemed to arrive at a decision.
"All right, Agent Scully.  I'll approve this travel request.  You have
three days. If you have nothing definitive by that time, you both get
your asses on a plane back here, go down to your office, and don't
come out until those audits are finished. The clock starts ticking
tomorrow at eight a.m. sharp.  Have I made myself clear?"

     "Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."  Mulder, you owe me bigtime, she
thought.  He never would have bought it, coming from you.

     She had returned to her apartment and packed for what seemed
like the thousandth time since she joined the X-Files.  What does one
wear to an unnatural disaster, anyway?  She decided on pantsuits, as
well as some of her "trip to the woods" gear.  That done, she cleaned
out her fridge.  Still restless, she tried to call Mulder at his
apartment to let him know they definitely had the case, only to be
greeted by the usual terse message on his answering machine.  She
tried his cellular, only to find he had turned it off. There was just
one reason she could think of why he would turn off his cellular
phone.  She could count on one hand the number of times he had
excluded her like that.  And she could guess why he had this time.
The rest of the night had gone downhill from there.

     She looked across the aisle to where Mulder and Candy sat,
heads together, low laughter occasionally erupting from one or the
other.  When was the last time she had heard Mulder laugh like that?
Her face burned.  He was her friend, her partner, and she had no
claims on him beyond that.  But still she couldn't help but be stung
by an overwhelming sense of resentment. Where was Candy the last
time that she had held Mulder, shaking and terrified, after one of
his nightmares had woken them both from strange beds in a strange
town? Where was Candy the last time she had kept him together with
bandaids and prayer until she had gotten him to an emergency room?
Finally, she let her eyes close, more to keep the hot, angry tears
from spilling over than because of fatigue.  Moments later, her
breathing evened and her hands relaxed on the armrests of her seat.

     Tired of conversation, Candy turned her attentions for the
moment to the scientific journal she had brought with her.  Mulder
looked over at his partner, relieved to see her dozing.  The dark
smudges under her eyes told him she hadn't slept, at least not enough
to count, and he felt more than partially responsible.  He knew that
Scully was feeling excluded, and once more he regretted having turned
off his cellular phone the previous night.  Then again, even if he
hadn't shut it off and Scully had called... well, she wouldn't have
been reassured.  It was just that he hadn't seen Candy in so long,
and they had a lot of catching up to do and....  Who was he kidding?
Last night was incredible, he was exhausted and his entire body ached
sweetly in remembrance.  Candy had even more imagination than he had
given her credit for.  But while the physical side was much more than
he had expected, the emotional side was much less - for both of them,
he surmised. He felt curiously empty, like he had dined on junk food.

     Again, he glanced over at Scully, noticing the slight glistening
of moisture caught in her eyelashes.  He was going to have a lot of
explaining to do.  He knew how stressed out she had been by Candy's
arrival.  He never wanted to do anything that would put their
relationship at risk, in fact had carefully and painfully avoided
taking the steps that might put it at risk. At this point, it was the
foundation of their lives.  Well, at least he knew it was the best
part of his, and he hoped she felt the same.  They would have to find
a quiet time to talk, straighten things out.

     He thought about what he had heard at the Gunmen's place the
previous evening.  They too had been following the South Dakota
tornadoes, and some of their wilder surmises made Candy's sound
almost tame.  They had split for favorites.  Langly and Frohike were
on the side of alien technology as the cause of the storms, but Byers
had put forward an extremely complex hypothesis based on some of
the weather-control experiments of Nikola Tesla decades before that
was almost convincing.  The guys had also given him some information
of the topography of the region, and the names of a couple of contacts
at the University of South Dakota at Rapid City.

     The seatbelt warning sounded.  Mulder leaned across the aisle
to carefully fasten Scully's seatbelt without waking her.  Let her
sleep a little while longer, she would be needing it.

                                - - - - -

     As the three traveled along I-90 on their way to Hayes, the
only sounds they heard were the tires on the road and themselves
thinking.  The lack of meaningful conversation had been absolute
since they had landed in Rapid City, at least on Scully's part. Candy
had chattered on until finally even she lapsed into unaccustomed
quiet when neither of the agents replied in more than monosyllables
to her cheerful inanities. Scully, for her part, avoided her partner's
anxious glances in her direction.  Paybacks were a bitch.

    Actually, she was beginning to wonder if the papers had
exaggerated just a tad.  The area looked untouched and unremarkable,
considering the devastation that had been reported. Another storm
had struck that morning in Belvidere, a small town on the way to
Hayes. Mulder's suggestion that they stop and look around was met
with the same stony silence but no objection.

     It was wasn't until he veered off the interstate and entered
Belvidere proper that they saw the horrible devastation. Within a
diameter of a hundred yards, nothing was left intact.  Buildings were
in ruins. The wind was whistling as it went through the skeletal
structures. Trees that would normally be standing proudly tall were
uprooted or reduced to matchsticks.  For a hundreds of yards outside
of ground zero, the trees left standing stood bare and bleak.

     Mulder pulled over to what probably had been a bank.

     "Why are you stopping?" inquired Scully.

     "I just want to have a look around," he murmured He got
out of the car, and Candy, who was in the back, joined him. Sighing,
Scully got out, more because Candy did than because she really
wanted to. Seeing the destruction reminded her of the time her family
had visited Japan when she was a child, and they had toured Nagasaki.
She shuddered slightly, more from the memory than the chill breeze
that pulled at her coat.

     "Scully!" Mulder had to yell to get his voice through the
wind.  "You coming?"

     "No!  I'll stay here.  Let's not be too long, Mulder.  We have
to meet that Red Cross guy in Hayes.  The weather doesn't look like
it's going to hold, and there's still over an hour of driving left!"

     "What?"  Though he saw her lips moving, he barely heard the
words.

     "I SAID, DON'T BE- " Just then, the wind stopped and it became
deathly quiet. "TOO - too long.  We have to meet the Red Cross guy
in Hayes and I want to be there before dark."  She looked at her
watch. Though it read 2:00, it could easily have been dusk from the
smudgy light only begrudgingly allowed through the clouds.

     "Agreed."  He nodded his head toward Candy and they went off
to where a small crowd gathered.  Scully slipped quietly back into
the car and started to reread the X-File research that Mulder had
studiously put together.

     The group was working to free a man that was trapped under a
beam that had fallen on him while he had been clearing debris. Mulder
and Candy walked over and stood with the crowd.

     "Poor bastard," they heard someone mutter to themselves.
"Poor S.O.B.'ll probably die anyway," proclaimed another.  Mulder
understood their thoughts - shocked people trying to justify all of
this to themselves, trying to make some sense of it.  Candy on
the other hand, wasn't so forgiving.

     "How can you say that?"  she exclaimed.  "He is a fellow human
being!  You can't give up!  We have to do something!"

     A middle-aged man standing in front of her turned around. "Look,
miss, they are doing something. Unless you know Superman, it doesn't
look good."

     "Has someone tried to cut him out or use a lever?" asked
Mulder, trying to diffuse the situation.  Candy was not so subtly
reminding him of one of the many reasons why he shouldn't get
involved with her again.

     "Yeah.  The problem is the beam is buried on both sides and a
lever just broke.  They're getting a torch now, but the garage was
hard hit as well."

     The agent nodded his understanding.  "How many storms have
you had?"

     "Just the one.  We're lucky though, loss of life hasn't been
too bad - of course, they ain't dug everyone out yet."  The wind
picked up again.  "Hope they hurry with that torch, looks like we're
in for another." Mulder looked around and at the sky, particularly in
the direction of Hayes.

     "Come on, Candy."  He tugged at her arm.

     She turned shocked eyes on him. "We can't leave him!"

     "They'll get him out.  Our being here or not being here isn't
going to make a damn bit of difference."  He turned and tapped the
gentleman he was talking to earlier on the shoulder.  "Sir, we're on
our way to Hayes.  It is my understanding there is a Red Cross Unit
stationed there.  We'll send help when we get there."

     "Thank you, son, we'd appreciate that.  I'm sure Jim will free
him, and Doc Sharpe's over there, just waitin'.  We'll be all right -
if the weather holds."

     "Happy now?  Let's go."  He grabbed Candy's arm and directed her
toward the car.

     "Well, did you find anything?" asked Scully once they were
settled.

     "There was man trapped," exclaimed Candy, giving him a nasty
look that Scully couldn't fail to notice.

     "Are they able to get him out? Does he need medical attention?"
Scully had her hand on the door, ready to join the rescuers, but her
partner put a restraining hand on her arm.

     "He's under a beam.  They're going to have to cut him out
before anyone can do anything. There'sa doctor there, and I said we
would send someone from Hayes down here with supplies and so on."
He turned the ignition key, and slowly drove down the road and away
from the devastation.

     "How can you be so callous, Mulder?  How can you just stand by,
and not even help, for God's sake? What's happened to you?"  Candy
ranted and raved in the back seat.

     Scully stifled a smile.  Mulder had done everything he could.
They had to get to Hayes, and if they had tried to give help that
wasn't needed, they could be stuck in the storm that was surely
brewing.  They couldn't do anything the townspeople of Belvidere
weren't already doing, and they had a time schedule to keep if they
wanted to finish this investigation by the deadline set by Skinner - an
investigation that they hoped would eventually save lives.
e, that he was confident of.

     About two hours later as they drove on Route 63, they saw no
sign of the reported devastation.  However, the closer they got to
the small town, the darker the skies became and more unfriendly
the weather appeared.

     After finally arriving in Hayes, the trio were directed to an
elementary school which doubled as the disaster shelter. Even though
the tornado had struck days earlier, the place was still absolute
chaos.  People were everywhere - milling around, trying to keep
cranky children amused, assisting to prepare the meager supplies of
food for the evening meal, laying on cots in the hallway.  Pictures the
schoolchildren had made in art classes were half torn from the walls by
the heedless wind and by the movement of scores of shocked survivors.
Mulder led the way into the gymnasium where row after row of cots
were laid out in neat, depressing rows. Interspersed among the
survivors there were several people wearing red vests, indicating
they were with the Red Cross.

     "Excuse me," said Mulder, "Can you tell me where Christian
Myers is?"

     "Who?"  The red-vested youth looked up, annoyed.  The last
thing the young man needed was another interruption.

     "Christian Myers," repeated Scully, holding her ID open for
the young man's perusal.

     "Chris?  Yeah, he's at the command center." The boy cut off any
further questions by walking away, with four refugees trailing behind
asking questions that for now had no answers.

     "Great. Where's the Command center?" murmured Scully.

     "Where Chris is," said Candy matter-of-factly.  She turned on
her heel and headed down a hallway off the gym.  Mulder and
Scully trailed behind not unlike the refugees behind the Red Cross
volunteer. She went to a door marked Administrative Office, opened it,
and in a voice that could not be ignored asked, "Is there a Chris
Myers here?"

      "I'm Myers."  The tall, well-built man had his back to them,
studying a county map on the wall. He didn't even turn around.
"Look, whoever you are, find a cot, we should start serving hot
food at around six o'clock and if you have any other needs or
questions, see someone who is wearing a red vest."

     "Sir," Mulder pulled out his ID "My name is Mulder, I'm with
the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner Dana Scully,
and this is Candace McDermott.  May we have minute of your time,
please?"

     The man finally turned, peering at them unenthusiastically
through red-rimmed eyes. Chris Myers looked about 20 years older
than he really was. His grease- and soot-streaked blond hair was long
overdue for a good shampoo, and he looked like he could sleep for a
week.  "FBI?"

     "We're here investigating these tornadoes."

     "Since when are tornadoes outlawed?"  He grabbed a cup and
finished off his coffee, probably his twelth of the day.

     "Actually we are investigating the unusual nature of the
storms."

     "Unusual nature of the storms."  He rolled his eyes and turned
his back to them in disbelief.  "The FBI."  Trust the damn government
to send in the one department that could be of no use to him at all.
The National Guard might have helped - but the FBI?  He was tired of
having to fight tooth and nail to get any help for these people.

     Scully spoke gently, empathizing with his bone-deep exhaustion.
"We were wondering if it would be all right if we toured the area and
checked out the devastation for ourselves."

     "Yeah, okay," he turned around and started for the door.  "I
was going to do one last patrol before nightfall."

     "Oh, another thing," said Mulder, "We came through Belvidere.
There was a man there, trapped in some debris. They needed tools
to cut him out from under a beam.  I'm sure they have them out by
now, but if you could spare someone to check it out, I'd be
grateful."

     "Yeah, hold on."  He went into the gym, grabbed the youth they
had seen before and exchanged a few words with him.  He strode back
to join them.  "Marc will take care of it.  We'll take my Jeep."  It
wasn't a question.

     Scully and Candy sat together in the back and Mulder rode
shotgun.  "So since when does the FBI investigate the strange and
unusual?"  Chris asked.  His mood had lightened since leaving the
shelter.

     "Oh, a while now," said Mulder casually.

     "Really?  So is it true what they say about Hoover? Talk about
your strange and unusual!"  His head went back as he crowed with
laughter. Catching Scully's non-amused expression in the rearview
mirror, he self-consciously stopped mid-chortle. "Ah sorry, I guess
that's not something you people joke about.  No seriously, why the
interest in these storms?"

     Mulder turned to look at Candy, Scully was looking at Mulder
and Candy was looking at Chris - all hoping someone would provide
the answer to the question that any sane person should be asking.
Chris continued, "If you don't mind my saying so, I personally think
you're all nuts for coming out here."

        Amen to that, Scully thought. Her knuckles showed white
through her skin.  Though Chris maneuvered the vehicle like a pro, he
was driving way too fast for the weather conditions.  It had begun to
pour again and although they were in a four-wheel drive, the threat
of hydroplaning was evident from the way they skidded on the curves.

     "I thought we'd check out a remote farm. I had reports of some
damage out here."  All of them were holding on for dear life as the
vehicle careened around curves and was caught by blasts of wind.

     They reached the storm damage area abruptly.  The scenery
wasn't much different than on the drive through Belvidere.  The trees
were mangled, buildings were either rubble or soon to be piles of
debris.  The sky wasn't inviting and the temperature was dropping
rapidly.  Scully shivered.  Unexpectedly Chris plunged the Jeep
through a small opening partially hidden by pine trees, and came to
a sliding halt as one of the fallen conifers blocked their path. "Well
folks, looks like we walk from here."

     Mulder was inspecting the tree, looking like he was about to
try to move it.  "Don't even think about it, Mulder. It weighs more
than the Jeep. What, afraid to do a little walking?"  chided Scully.

     "No."  He waved her on ahead.

     Chris and Candy were walking together.  "So, ah... Candace,
what is your purpose here?"

     "Call me Candy. I've been doing research on unusual weather
patterns in the United States and Canada. I came across these
storms, which were more unusual than anything I had ever seen.
I've known Mulder for a long time, and knew he was in the FBI,
so I asked him to help me."

     "So what makes these so unusual?"  Mulder heard the
question and strained to hear the answer, wondering how Chris was
going to take the answer.

     "Well I have this theory that the cause is not of this
world. Do you believe in extraterrestrials?"

     "You mean aliens?  No, of course not."  Overhearing the
conversation, Scully smiled, glad she wasn't the only skeptic on the
face of the earth.

     "You mean you never wondered if we are alone?"

     "Uh...  nope."  Chris had a look of amusement on his face.  He
sincerely hoped the FBI was a little more serious than this girl.
They walked silently till they came to the end of the drive.  Through
the wind-swept rain, they spotted an old farm house that leaning
drunkenly, and a barn that had been reduced to a pile of rubble.
Chris stopped, put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "You -
uh, Mulder is it?  Wanna come with me to inspect the house, while
the girls check out what's left of the barn over there?"  The agent
fell into step by his side, an enigmatic expression on his face as
he surveyed his partner. 'The girls' walked in silence over to the
barn debris.

     "So, uh - Mulder.... you buy that alien theory?"  Chris was
smiling. Mulder doubted he wanted to hear his true answer.

     "Well, a good investigator looks at all possibilities," he
replied, cautiously stepping over fallen beams, chunks of insulation
and twisted strips of siding.  He decided to change the subject.
"How come you don't have a dog for this kind of thing?"

     "A dog!  Shit, why didn't I thing of that?" He snickered,
then continued more seriously, "They make terrible travel companions.
Too much work. They need too much attention, too much time I
don't have to give...."  He peered around. "I don't think we're going
to find anybody. The owner said there probably wouldn't be anybody
here."

     "So why did we come out here?"

     "You said you wanted to tour the devastation didn't you?
Look, we'd better get going.  You want to call the girls? I'll go
back to the Jeep and get on the two-way and check in.  We've been
tracking storms all day long. The weather sucks now, but even this
may not hold.  There might be a lot worse to come."

     By the time the three made it back to the car, Chris was
talking to someone heatedly over the CB.  "Hayes weather station is
tracking weather movements in Cherry Creek.  They are similiar to
those before the storms.  If the pattern holds, it's going to get
worse before it's over.  If it's ever over."  That last part was
almost inaudible, but Scully heard it.

     "Are you expecting casualties? " asked Scully.

     "Very likely.  Like I said, it will get worse before long.
We do have a window of time.  There'll be severe thunderstorms
before the big one will hit."

     "I'm a medical doctor, if that's any help to you."

     "Hold on. Hayes, come in."  A glimmer of hope appeared in
Myer's eyes.

     "Hayes here."

     "I found a doctor.  I want four other people to meet me at the
shelter.  Get the usual stuff ready."  He turned back to them, "Okay
kids, let's get moving, time is of the essence here."  Even speedier
than before, they headed back toward town.

                                        - - - - -

     The wind had increased significantly when they reached
Hayes. Scully and Myers went directly in to see how the workers
were doing, getting together the supplies they'd need in Cherry Creek.
Candy and Mulder lagged behind, trying to decide whether to go
to Cherry Creek with Scully and Chris, or go on to Rapid City,
establish a base of operations, and begin to check out their sources
there in the morning.

     "I think we should go to Cherry Creek.  In terms of my research,
this is the perfect time to go, when the storms are building." Candy
stopped and faced Mulder.

     "Actually, I've been thinking," he said hesitantly, avoiding her
eyes. "Scully's going to be exhausted and I'm sure you are too. The
weather might do anything, including just fizzle out. I think the
three of us would be better off checking into a hotel for the night."
He pivoted to leave but she grabbed him by the arm.

     "But Mulder, we've got to go tonight. While everything is
still there.  If there is another tornado, we may never be able to
find any trace signatures. The survivors who aren't too shellshocked
to even speak won't want to talk about it afterwards.  Besides,
Chris said that the worse is yet to come.  I'm sure something's going
to happen.  What's happened to you? Aren't you even the least bit
curious?"  She paused to see if any her plea was reaching him. He was
looking over her shoulder, his eyes wary, narrowed. She turned to see
Scully speaking with Myers.

     "You might be right," he said distractedly.  "Wait here. I need
to talk it over with Scully."  She dropped her hand as he strode away
to join his partner.

     He found her in what looked to be a first grade classroom.
Ironically, the kids had been studying - of all things - weather, and
pictures of clouds and suns with happy faces were hung around the
room.  He waited till she had finished instructing Myers' helpers
which medical supplies to load into the Jeep, then tapped her on
the shoulder.

     "What?  Oh - it's you.  What is it, Mulder?"

     "I think Candy and I are going to Cherry Creek along with you
and Myers."

     "Just a minute there."  Myers entered the classroom from the
hallway, where he had overheard Mulder's plan. "No way. You
two would be better off here. Like I said, I've been through tornadoes
in two of the towns already.  I'm telling you, the last thing we need
is to have two more people than absolutely necessary running around
out there risking life and limb."  He looked toward Scully, hoping she
would plead the case for him.  "If she weren't a doctor, I'd be telling
her the same thing.  But she is, and we need every medically trained
person we can get. What we don't need is two more potential victims."

     "Chris, could you excuse us a minute,"  Scully asked quietly.

     "Sure.  We leave in five minutes. The Jeep's out front. Don't be
long."  He walked away, shaking his head.  He'd seen too many people
chasing tornados cause trouble.  He would have enough to do - he
didn't want to have to bail out the FBI guy and the blonde dingbat as
well.

     "...Mulder, think about what you're saying.  You and Candy can
get any investigative evidence you need here, or go on to Rapid City
and start meeting our contacts there."

     "Scully, if these tornadoes are of an unusual nature, I think it
would be best if we were there when the 'big one' hits, don't you?
Candy said she needs to be on the spot for her research."

     Her expression was doubtful at best. "I think if you asked her
straight out, Mulder, you'd find that Hayes is close enough to the
action for her to get the data she needs. No. Chris is right. I think
it would be best if you two found us someplace to work from, a base
camp.  You can talk to the survivors here if you need data."  She
leaned closer to him and looked directly into his eyes.  "And I think
you should start thinking with your head - the one on your shoulders!"
Her eyes glittered with anger.  Bad enough for her partner to be over-
protective.  But she knew his decision to follow her and Chris to
Cherry Creek wasn't entirely from a misguided sense of chivalry.

     Now he was angry.  His eyes narrowed.  "Why, Scully? So you
can be alone with Chris?  Maybe some paybacks?"

     Her words were in a furious, icy whisper."Mulder, I never said
anything about this whole Candy thing.  I even backed you and went
to Skinner to get us here.  But I won't have time for you when we are
in Cherry Creek.  These aren't just thunderstorms.  Look at these
people!"

     Mulder looked around and a slow flush stained his cheeks as he
realized what a fool he was being. These people in the shelter were
there because they no longer had homes. Many of them were moaning,
in physical and emotional pain.

     He sighed. More softly, he said, "Alright, but keep in
touch."

     "I will."  A touch of her hand on his arm, and she turned and
hurried out of the gym.

     Scully crawled into the passenger side of the Jeep.  "So
is your partner coming?"  Chris asked.

     "No.  I think he's finally being reasonable."  He pulled
the Jeep, closely followed by a white van with a red cross on the
side, out of the parking lot and led the small caravan down the
road toward Cherry Creek "How long will it take to get there?"

     "Oh, an hour or so, if the weather holds."  He looked over
at his companion, noting her flushed complexion, the downturn
of her lips, and the slight redness of her eyes, feeling a sharp pang
of responsibility.  "Listen, it's not that I don't want your friends
along, but I think that they could serve a more useful purpose
somewhere else.  I don't want you to be worried about them, you'll be
too busy. And I don't want to have to find them.  There's nothing
more I hate than rescuing people from their own stupidity."

     "Do you do this for a living?"

     "Do what?"

     "Help people?"

     "Yeah.  I've been to the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew, LA
Earthquakes, and the San Francisco Earthquake."

     "Why?"

     "Why?  Why not?  These people need help, that's why.  I even
did time in the Peace Corps.  I may have a spare resume around if you
would like to see it."  His humor was similiar to Mulder's, and she
smiled.  At least the ride wouldn't be a total bore.


End of Chapter Two



Chapter Three

Cherry Creek, South Dakota
Wednesday
9:00 p.m.

     When they arrived in Cherry Creek, it was almost nine
o'clock. Scully had been able to sleep some on the way, but Chris
was totally exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed with fatigue. They went
to the local police station to find out where they were setting up
the emergency shelter.  Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled
in the distance, but for now, the rain held off. There was a
guarantee of worse to come.

     The police station was a bustle of activity. "Excuse me."

     "Yeah?" answered one of the deputies. He looked like he
had, for the first time in years, way too much to do.

     "I'm Chris Myers with the Red Cross and this is Dr. Dana
Scully.  Could you tell me where the shelter is?"

     "Thank God you're here.  We were totally unprepared.
Yeah, it's down at the end of town.  In the elementary school."

     "Where else.  Thanks."  He escorted Scully out into the
wind-swept air.  "Well, you have to say one thing about the cold
war."

     "What's that?"  She had to yell to be heard over the crash
of thunder.

     "People who were scared shitless of nuclear war built damn
good emergency shelters.  I just hope they aren't using the rations."

     "Rations?"

     "Oh yeah!  It use to be a law that these emeregency fall-
out shelters were stocked with rations.  The food is in all these
green cans.  Very military.  Very horrible.  In fact, the food in
most of these shelters outdated years ago. Oh, here we are."
Myers didn't get a chance to finish his thoughts.  They walked
into what looked like a clone of the Hayes school and found the
Sheriff and some of his deputies.  Sandbags were stacked against
one wall, and other emergency supplies were being carried in from
trucks jockeying for position under the portico.

     "Sheriff, I'm Chris Myers from the Red Cross."

     "Hi. Ferris Johnson."  They shook hands.

     "Sheriff, what's with all the sandbags?"

     "Oh, those. Cheyenne's flooding."

     "Cheyenne?" asked Scully.

     "The river.  Usually not much more than a creek, but it's
flooding.  We have to sandbag the building.  And we've boarded up
the windows.  You didn't by any chance bring a doctor with you?"
He turned to Scully, then looked around for a more likely candidate.

     "As a matter fact I did.  Dana.  Sheriff Johnson, this is
Dr. Dana Scully, she's with the FBI."

     "FBI?"  There was a look of surprise on his face.

     "Sheriff," she extended her hand to greet him. "Are there
any injured?"

     "Actually, very few so far, but Miss Grayson got scared
witless by a crash of thunder and took a fall.  She's the Old Maid
of Cherry Creek.  Taught school here for forty-five years. Ralph?
Ralph!"  At the sharp bark of his name, a man came around the
corner, looking like he should work for the Mayberry P. D. instead
of Cherry Creek.  "Take Dr.Scully to Miss Grayson's.  She refuses
to come to the shelter."  Scully looked to Chris.

     "Sheriff, Dana and I can go out there.  I'm sure you need
Ralph here."  Scully knew Chris well enough to be able to hear the
thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice. "I've dealt before with people who
don't want to leave their homes, and I'm usually pretty good at
talking them into seeing sense.  So where is this place, Ralph?"

     "Actually, I want Ralph here to go.  Take them," Johnson
ordered, in a tone that invited no argument.  Ralph nodded his head
glumly.  Scully almost felt sad for the deputy.  There was evidently
some history between the sheriff and his sorry-looking assistant.
He led the way back out to the parking lot, starting his squad car
and waiting until Chris had brought the Jeep up behind to follow him
out to the old lady's place.

     Miss Grayson's house was quaint.  It so fitted Scully's
image of what a retired maiden schoolteacher's home should be, she
paradoxically almost doubted her eyes.  Ralph went up to the door
first.  The air was getting colder and the wind was picking up, as the
first drops of rain began to fall.

     "Miss Grayson, it's Ralph Johnson.  Miss Grayson!"  As
soon as Scully heard his last name she understood the animosity
between him and the sheriff - they were relatives.  Ralph opened
the door.  Inside looked and smelled like a little old lady lived there,
with lacy antimacassars on the Victorian sofa, and the scent
of camomile tea pervading the cushions.   "Miss Grayson?"

     They found the old woman on the floor in the kitchen next
to a toppled stepladder.  "Miss Grayson!" Scully rushed over to
check on the old woman, feeling for a pulse at her carotids, knowing
she would find nothing as she touched the rapidly cooling skin. The
men hovered nearby awaiting the prognosis.  She looked up from the
woman's body. "I'm sorry.  She's dead. I could do CPR, but I really
think it would be useless. She's been gone about an hour or two."

     "Are you sure?"  asked Ralph, white as a ghost and
trembling.

     "I don't usually make a mistake about these things.  I'm
sorry," Scully repeated mildly.  "Did you know her?"

     "Yeah... yeah.  She was one of my teachers.  Grades three
through six. I'll... ah... go call the Sheriff. Excuse me."  He looked
pale and shaky, like he lost his best friend. Or like he had never
seen a dead body before.

     "Do you know how she died?" asked Chris.  He squatted down
next to Scully.

     "Not really.  An educated guess? I would say it was her
heart."  The sound of smashing glass had both of them on their feet
and flying down the hallway toward the sound.  A huge tree limb had
crashed through the living room picture window.  The once genteel
parlor was demolished, and the late schoolteacher's belongings were
blowing all over the room, as the gaping hole in the wall let in the
weather which was worsening by the minute.  Suddenly even the roar
of the wind was overpowered by the insistant shriek of a siren.

     "What's that?" asked Scully.

     "A warning.  Someone probably spotted a funnel cloud.  Come
on, we've got to get down to the basement for shelter.  I'll go find
the deputy."  The lights flickered in the house.  "Find some candles
or flashlights or something.  Was there a gas stove in the kitchen?"

     Scully thought.  "No, electric."

     "Okay, we don't have to worry about that, anyway."  He
opened the door and was buffetted by the wind and rain.

     Scully went into the kitchen and searched the drawers for
candles.  After thirty seconds of flickering, the lights finally went
out for good, leaving her standing in the dark.  She tried to feel
her way back toward the living room, using the flashes of lightning
for illumination.

     "Dana! Dana!"  She saw a light come toward her. The thought
occurred to her that it was nice to have someone call her by her first
name.

     "Yeah. I'm over here."  Just then the windows imploded and the
walls began to vibrate.  She lost her balance.  It was as though the
house were rolling.  Images of Dorothy's house flying through the air
popped into her mind.  Not now, she chastised herself, for having such
a bizarre thought.  The wind was becoming deafening.  "Where's the
deputy?"

     "He should be right behind me."  Chris swung around with
the flashlight but didn't see anything.  Pictures were swept from
the wall to the floor, and the china plates that Miss Grayson had
collected over the years and mounted with pride on the walls,
crashed along with them.  But there was no deputy.

     "We have to find him!"  The house heaved and she fell into
him, knocking them both to the floor.  Unsteadily, they climbed to
their feet, Chris taking her arm protectively  A second later, the
sound of an oncoming freight train cut through the din of the wind
and rain.  "A train?  Now? How the hell close to the tracks are
we, anyway?  It sounds like it's on top of us!"

     "That's no train!  Come on!"  He dragged her toward a door
in the kitchen.  "I hope this is the basement."  He opened it, and
mops and brooms tumbled out onto him. "Shit!  Where's the damn
basement?" He spied a small bathroom, and he set his jaw grimly.
"Come on."

     "Don't we have to find a basement?"

     "No time.  This will have to do."  Inside was a small shower
stall.  He pushed her in first, then got in behind her.  "Normally I
don't do this on the first date, but.."  He pushed her down so they
were on the floor of the shower, and pulled the shower curtain
securely around them.

     The storm was systematically destroying the house. The
funnel cloud that descended on the little town uprooted the big
oak tree out front, that Miss Grayson's grandfather planted
when he first settled in South Dakota. The tree fell, its enormous
limbs smashing in the front part of the house as it went down. The
roof blew off, taking flight into the sky like some huge black bat
against the night.  Rain was falling in sheets inside the house,
soaking everything in sight.  Through it all they remained at the
bottom of the shower stall, Chris huddled protectively over her.

     When the horrible roaring had stopped and an unearthly
stillness had replaced it, Chris stood up, brushing away the shower
curtain and the relatively few bits of broken glass that sprinkled it.
He stepped out and offered a hand to Scully. "I hope you'll still
respect me now," he joked shakily.  She just barely managed a weak
smile in return.

     They left the bathroom and emerged onto a scene of
total devastation.  The house had literally collapsed on top of them.
Any way out was blocked by fallen beams, toppled furniture and
roofing materials, so precariously balanced that the slightest
breeze or misstep could cause a landslide of debris.  He picked up
a cast iron pan and, returning to the bathroom, smashed the one
window still intact.  "Looks like we're going to have to crawl out of
here."  He took care of the jagged edges, then boosted Scully
out of the window, following a second later.  They walked around
to the front but the police car was nowhere to be found.  The wind-
whipped rain stung their faces.

     "I wonder where Ralph is?" shouted Scully over the wind.

     "I don't know."  I don't want to know, he thought.  They
started jogging down the middle of the street.  Every house on the
west side of the street, like Miss Grayson's, was destroyed, but the
houses on the east had only some minor wind damage.  Fortunately,
unlike Miss Grayson, their occupants had all elected to go to the
shelter before the tornado hit.  "Come on, let's get to the shelter."

     A two mile jog was the last thing Scully needed, after her
bad night's sleep, the travel, the tension of the day and finally
being in the middle of a tornado. She was completely exhausted,
and worried about Chris.  He hadn't had the opportunity she did to
sleep on the way to Cherry Creek, however brief that had been.  She
wondered how he was holding together.

    When they arrived at the shelter, there were bloodied people
everywhere.  Evidently not everyone in town had made it to the
shelter in time. The four guys that had come with them from Hayes
had set up an emergency triage area.  Scully rolled up her sleeves
and jumped in.  Chris started directing the less seriously injured to
cots, handed out blankets and got himself another cup of coffee.
After getting everyone organized he went to work, helping Scully
start IV's and splint broken bones, treat for hypothermia and shock.
The storm outside still raged.

     And the injured and homeless kept coming in.  Some had been
hurt in the storm, others had been flooded out.  Volunteers had
stacked more sandbags by the doorways.  The power was at best iffy.

     "The river's going over the sandbags.  It's broken through!"
Scully darted out of the makeshift emergency room to none other than
Ralph running down the hall.  The S.O.B. must have driven off and
left us, Scully thought, then her attention was caught by the sea of
people swarming around her.

     Suddenly, she spotted Chris, talking to two rain-soaked men
in the doorway.  "Chris." She grabbed his arms, her hands still in
bloodied latex gloves. "What's going on?"

     "The Cheyenne has flooded - two-thirds of the town is
under water, and the rest will be if we can't stop it at the highest
ground we can find.  I'm going out to help sandbag. You be okay
here?"

     "But- !"

     "I know."  He put on a waterproof jacket, his eyes never
leaving hers.  Suddenly his arm swept around her waist, pulling
her close as his head bent low and his lips captured hers. "Wait
for me." Then he dashed out the door with the rest of the volunteers.

     She stood there, stunned.  Admittedly, he was attractive -
damned attractive. She even had feelings for him, unaccustomed
feelings.  Lord knew she did not usually warm up to people quickly -
especially stubborn, impetuous, Alpha males such as Chris. Maybe
living through a tornado with someone did that to you, she ruminated.
But....  She didn't know how to react.

     "Dr. Scully!  Dr. Scully, I can't find a pulse on Harry!"
She turned back to the treatment room.

                                ~ ~ ~

     It seemed like hours before broken and bleeding evacuees
stopped coming in. Sitting on a cot and clutching a styrofoam cup of
bad coffee, she ached from head to toe and was more tired than she
ever remembered being before.  Chris was nowhere to be found.  She
heard rumors that the flooding was being contained, but they were
fighting enormous odds, with the rain still coming down in torrents
and the wind whipping the river into surfable breakers.  It must have
been early morning but the sky was so relentlessly dark, she couldn't
tell.

     After making her rounds to check on her patients, she
permitted herself a moment's rest.  She used her arm as a head rest
against the pile of sandbags, watching the rain pour down and the
lightning dance off the ceramic tiles of the hallway.  She had fallen
into much needed sleep when there was a protracted roar, followed
by a huge crash outside. Instinctively grabbing for her gun, she
jumped up and ran to the door.

     "Another twister touched down, we need help!" a disembodied
voice called.  "Some of the volunteers are trapped under the sand
truck!"  Not thinking, she bolted out the door without her coat or
medical pack.

     She followed the few able-bodied men left at the shelter
down the drenched and litter-strewn streets, and heard herself
praying to God that Chris was okay. Her eyes were getting adjusted
to the dim light from flickering flashlights when a nightmarish vision
assailed her.  Fifty feet ahead, sandbags lay broken and scattered,
torn from the makeshift wall constructed to keep back the river which
was even now surging over in rhythmic waves.  And twenty feet beyond
that, a dump truck carrying tons of sand had toppled over onto its
side.  As she skidded to a halt by the side of the truck, she could
see trapped under the truck the upper portion of a man's body, his
face white, his limbs still.  Six feet away from him, surely too far
away to belong to the same man, she saw a booted foot sticking
out from under the truck.

     She saw Chris frantically trying to use an I-beam as a
lever with several other men to lift the truck up enough to pull
the two victims out from underneath.  He called for more help, as
the truck moved inch by painful inch.  The wind and rain lashed
at the rescuers, as if to add to their already nearly insurmountable
task. "Go! Someone - get them out of there!" he yelled over the
storm's fury.  At least ten men dashed to the truck to do his bidding,
dragging the more visible man out, and straining in their efforts to
get to the other.  Suddenly there was a scream of frustration from
Chris as trembling limbs finally gave out, the lever slipped, and the
rescuers scrambled back as the truck settled back onto its side with
a crash.

     "Damn it!!  Fuck it all to hell!"  he cursed. "All right, one more
time. Go!"  Again the rescuers risked life and limb, and finally
dragged what was left of the second victim out from under the truck.
When the rescuers were clear, the exhausted men who had been
holding the truck aloft on the lever dropped their burden thankfully.

     Scully reached down and felt for the pulse of the second
victim - merely a formality, she knew. It didn't take a medical degree
to note the crushed chest and skull and take a damn good guess.
Silently, she turned to the other victim, now conscious and writhing
in agony on the wet ground.  He was in severe pain, with multiple
fractures of his legs and bruising of his lower ribcage, but he would
live... assuming they could keep him out of shock and arrange
transport to a hospital reasonably quickly.

     "Come on, we have to get him out of this."  Chris stood behind
her, and she could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck.  That
little bit of warmth served as a reminder that she had forgotten to
take a coat, and was soaked and freezing.  "Chris, come on."  He
walked over to check the man still pinned.  "We can't do anything for
him.  He's dead, and we will be too if we stand out here.  Come on!"

     "Fuck these storms!"  The events of the night, the lack of
sleep, everything was taking its toll.

     "Chris, standing out in the rain swearing isn't going to bring
the man back.  Let's go in, now!"  He agreed and allowed himself to be
pulled by Scully, who had a firm grip on his arm.  Once they were in
the shelter she started barking orders to the medical personnel.
Chris went over to talk to the Sheriff.

     There really wasn't much Scully could do for the man.  She set
his legs in splints, and wrapped his bruised ribs, and gave him
something for the pain.  She walked over to the makeshift command
post, and found Chris pouring over weather charts. The storm was
finally showing signs of subsiding.

     "Chris."  She was afraid to even speak to him, remembering how
angry he was earlier.  "Chris, you should change your clothes."  He
was dressed in the same clothes and looked still wet as though he went
back out there.  He looked up at here and adjusted his glasses.

     "Why, Dr. Scully!  Are you making a pass at me?"

     "No, I'm telling you to get out of those wet clothes.  Did you
bring anymore?"

     "Yeah.  I may even have something to fit you."  He reached
into his pockets of his jeans and pulled out his keys.  "I'll be right
back."  As soon as he was gone she turned to the Sheriff.

     "Has he eaten?"

     "No ma'am, nor has he slept.  He's phenomenal, after coming
back he went out and bagged some more."

     "How's the storm?"

     "Doing quite nicely.  I got a report that clouds are starting
to form over Sorum.  Myers is working on getting people there before
the storm hits.  Our storm on the other hand is showing signs of
letting up."  Chris came walking back in with a bag.

     "Okay, Dr. Scully."  He reached in and pulled out some jeans
and a sweatshirt.  "Take what you want, but leave the underwear - it's
mine."  He left to go change.  Scully just laughed and started going
through his bag, making sure not to touch the underwear.

     While Scully went to change Chris came back in and called the
Red Cross headquarters to make plans for Sorum.

     "What do you mean you can't spare more people?....  Look, I need
those supplies!"

     Scully walked in and stood inconspicuously over by the
Sheriff.  "Now what is he doing?"

     "Talking with the Red Cross in Rapid City.  From the sound of
it they aren't going to help.  No big suprise really."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Well these towns are pretty small and mostly of Native
American descent.  Most people aren't in a too big of rush to help us.
Oh well, I suppose I should go out and see how things are in the
town.  There's a fresh pot of coffee over there on the counter and a
couple of containers with food.  May I make a suggestion?"

     "What?"

     "I'm not a doctor, but I think he should get some rest and
some food."  The sheriff put on his hat and slicker and left them
alone in the room.

     After a few minutes, Chris slammed the phone down and yelled
"Bastards!"

     "Chris."

     "Those fucking pricks say there's nothing they can do. They
don't have the funding.  It's all political bullshit.  They don't know
what's it like these people are suffering.  They need help...."

     "Chris, come on."  She had done this many times for Mulder
when he was faced with apathy, or worse, for his work and his causes.
She grabbed his shoulders and led him over to a small empty room that
had a spare mattress leaning against the wall.  She pulled it down for
him and grabbed a couple of blankets. "Come on, lay down. You need to
rest."  She pushed him down the on the mattress.  "Do you want me to
get you something to help you sleep?"

     "No."

     "Chris, I'm sure this situation is not hopeless.  Perhaps if
you went there and explained the situation...."

     He turned on his side and she thought she heard sniffling.
"No."  She layed down beside him and tried to comfort him.

     "Sshh it's going to be okay.  You just need some sleep."

     He was quiet for a while, then began to speak. "Just after
college I joined the Peace Corp, thinking that my degree in education
could help some people. I was posted to Malaysia, and there was this
woman there whom I fell madly in love with. Her name was Meg, and
she was another volunteer. I loved her so much."  She heard the pain
in his voice as he reminisced.

     "Chris, you don't have to. It's okay."

     "They had a typhoon.  She was helping me save some kids when
the building fell down on top of her.  She was killed instantly."  He
rolled over and and faced her.  "She should have never been in there.
I wanted to save the children and I couldn't make her stay in the
shelter.  It's my fault that she died."

     Oh Mulder, where are you when I need you, thought Scully.
"Chris, it's not your fault.  I'm sure she wanted to be there as much
as you did.  You saved all those children.  You're just tired."

     Chris reached over and put his left arm under Scully and gave
her a warm passionate kiss, caressing her gently. It had been a long
time since a man had touched in such an intimate and affectionate way.
She lost herself in the moment, and returned the kiss with her body
and soul.  She let her hands roam over his body, as he touched her.
"Dana," he murmured.

      At the same moment, she whispered, "Oh, Mulder!"

     Both startled, their eyes flew open.  Somehow she had expected
Mulder's voice.  What was she doing?  She pushed Chris off of her and
scrambled off the mattress.  "I...ah..."

     For Chris' part, he was stunned.  Mulder?  They were only
partners, he thought.  What the hell was going on in the FBI these
days?

     "Dana, I'm sorry. I.."

     "I'll get you something to help you sleep."  Face flaming, she
rushed from the room.

     Chris lay back on the mattress, angry for having told her
about Meg, angry at having given into his urgings brought on by the
fear and the loneliness.  Angry that a woman he was doing his best to
seduce would call out another man's name.  She returned a few minutes
later with a small pill and a glass of water.  They avoided each
other's eyes as wordlessly, he swallowed the pill and settled down.

     Scully flew out into the hallway where there were more people.
Most of them were refugees, rather than injured.  She found her jacket
and pulled out her cell phone and tried Mulder's number.  But instead
of her partner's voice heard a woman.  "We're sorry, but due to storms
in your area your call cannot be completed at this time.  Please try
again later."  She went over to the phone on the desk and tried that,
but the line was dead. "Damn it."

     "Problem, Agent Scully?"  The sheriff was standing in the
doorway.

     "Uh, no. I just can't reach my partner that's all.  The storm."

     "Is it an emergency?  I'm sure we could work something out
with dispatch."

     "No. No, no. Let's keep it open for emergencies. I just wanted
to see how things were going with him, that's all."

                                              - - - - -

Outside Rapid City, S.D.
Wednesday
9:30 p.m.

     "...I mean the karma was just entirely wrong, so I got another
extension on my dissertation - I think like the fifth or sixth - and
consulted a numerologist to get an auspicious date before finally
submitting it.  Wait a minute, why are you stopping?  What is this
place?"  Candy's elegant head turned and she peered out the car window
to view the building adjacent to the gravel parking lot they had just
turned into.  She blinked, hoping her eyes were playing tricks on her.
A shabby three story building, badly in need of paint, was perched
next to a silver, bullet-shaped diner of the old school.  Six
eighteen-wheelers shared the parking lot with them.

     "Hmmm?  Oh, we're going to stay here for the night - no point
going all the way back into the downtown area and fighting the
traffic."  He popped the trunk latch and got out to retrieve their
bags.  Candy scrambled to follow him.

     "WHAT traffic?  We're in South Dakota for God's sake, Mulder.
There's got to be a Hyatt or...or a Radisson, or...or even a Ramada up
the road.  This place is awful!"  She shuddered.  "I didn't realize
that the Bates Motel was part of a chain."

     Mulder pulled their two suitcases from the trunk, setting them
on the gravel, and patiently waited for the complaints to stop.  "I'm
here to protect you, so you don't have to worry about Norman slashing
you in the shower.  We're not looking for a vacation resort, Candy,
just a place to get something to eat and to sleep for the night.  This
place serves both purposes," he said logically.  "It has character.
Besides, they say the best food is served at truck stops."

     "'They' must all have ulcers and a circulatory system clogged
with grease.  Please, Mulder, can't we go just a little further?"

     "Look, Candy, I'm exhausted.  I've done enough driving for
tonight.  Besides, Chris recommended the place, I have Scully's bag
and I told her we'd meet them here tomorrow.  I can't get through to
Cherry Creek to tell her of any change in plans, so this is where
we'll stay for the night.  It's not forever, just one night.  Where's
your spirit of adventure?"

     She wrinkled her nose.  "It was never this spirited OR
adventuresome.  Come on, Scorpy, if you're too tired, I'll even
drive."

     "No way in hell!  I remember the one and only time I let you
drive.  We were both almost killed when you decided to make the
Callahan Tunnel a two-way road.  No, we're staying here.  Chris and
Scully will be meeting us here - the arrangement's been made, so it
would be stupid to move.  They need to be able to find us here.  You
know, you would do well to remember that Scully and Chris are
undoubtedly putting up with considerably poorer lodgings than we are
tonight."  He thought anxiously of his partner.  Twice he had tried to
phone and had not been able to get through.  Not for the first time he
wished that Scully was beside him, instead of Candy.  While undeniably
gorgeous and brilliant, she didn't have half his partner's character
and grace under pressure, he realized.  And he hated the thought that
he had left Scully right in the middle of Tornado Central.  He picked
up the bags and made his way into the motel, Candy following sulkily.

     Even Mulder had to admit that the desk clerk had more than a
passing resemblance to Anthony Perkins, but their room was clean and
surprisingly comfortable.  "See," he said, putting the bags on the
bed.  "All this and a full menu of XXX adult features in the comfort
and privacy of our own room."

     She shot him a look that he thought only Scully could give.
"Well, let's check out the diner, Mulder.  I'm famished.  And don't
blame me if I have indigestion so badly tonight that I can't fully
participate in your enjoyment of those movies."

     The greasy spoon lived up to its reputation.  A dieter's hell,
it nevertheless did a wonderful job on the comfort foods for which its
kind was famous.  Candy picked at a club sandwich while Mulder did
justice to a huge bowl of chili and several crusty rolls, and both
succumbed to the temptation of fresh hot homemade apple pie a la mode.
They strolled back to the room arm in arm.  As Mulder well knew,
Candy's short attention span fortunately limited the length of time
she spent being angry.  He had no sooner dialed up the first feature
of the night - "Naughty Nurses' Nightshift" - than Candy was on him.
He responded before she focused her attentions on something else.
Suddenly she broke away, a mischievous expression on her face.

     "Hey Scorpy, there's something I've always wanted to try...."

     His eyes widened as she told him her idea.  Even his
impressive video collection had not prepared him for this one. "I'm
not even sure that's physically possible...Oh!"



End of Chapter Three


Chapter Four

Outside Rapid City, S.D.
Thursday
9:00 a.m.


        "Mulder, open up!  It's me, Scully."

        Mulder rolled over sleepily. Funny, he had just been
dreaming about his flame-haired partner - dreams she would no
doubt kill him for if she ever suspected their content.  The fact
that he could dream and fantasize without her knowing about it
was probably the only thing that kept him from making the move
that could end their partnership forever.  Or, perhaps, lead to
another, more desirable conclusion....  He snuggled down into the
covers, trying to concentrate on getting back to where the dream
had left off....

        "Mulder!  Come on!"

        "Hey, Lady, shut up!"  The muffled voice of a guest further
down the hall registered his complaint.

        He suddenly realized that he wasn't dreaming about her - she
was here.  He lazily opened one eye, and found himself looking into
Candy's face. His stomach dropped. Oh, sweet Jesus!  C'mon, Mulder!
Think!  There must be a way you can explain this.  But try as he might,
nothing sprang to his usually nimble and imaginative mind.

        "Mulder!"  She was banging on the door now.  Using her fist.
Not a good sign.

        "Mmmm.... Scorpy, what is it?" Candy drawled sleepily.

        Great.  Just what he needed. "Uh... Not what - who. Scully's
here....  Just hold on a sec, Scully!"

        Quickly, he got up and went to the door. Just as he was about
to open up, he realized he was naked.  "Scully, hold on a second.
Just let me...."

        The banging stopped.  He looked at the clock and saw it was
a little after nine A.M. He gave up his frantic search for his boxers in
the untidy bedclothes and pulled another pair from his suitcase. He
hopped on one foot and then the other, pulling the boxers on as he
headed for the door. His hand was just reaching for the knob when
Scully burst through, with Chris following close behind her.

        "What took you so...."  When she saw Candy sitting on the bed
and clad only in a sheet, she had her answer.  "Nice night?" she
snarled.

        Chris stood in the doorway with Mulder, ogling Candy.

        Candy giggled a little.  "Oops....  Excuse me while I dress."
She went to the bathroom with the sheet trailing behind her, barely
covering her.

        Mulder hoped Scully wouldn't make an issue of it.  After all,
he couldn't live a monk's existence.  They were only partners after all.
He kept thinking of all the possible things to justify what Scully had
seen, then gave up.  He was having a hard enough time justifying it to
himself.

        No one said anything till Candy came out of the bathroom. "I'm
starved," she said cheerfully, apparently oblivous to the little drama
about to play itself out in front of her.

        "I bet you are," mumbled Scully under her breath.

        "Gee, uh... so am I," Chris said in the awkward silence. "I
have to go into Rapid City. Care to join me, Candy? We can stop
for breakfast on the way."  At that moment, all he wanted to do
was get as far away as possible as fast as possible. Mulder might
not have had any idea of the depth of his partner's feelings for him,
but after last night, Chris certainly did. He was embarrassed for
Scully, sorry for Mulder and entertaining decidedly lustful thoughts
for the delectable Candy.  All things considered, getting the hell out
of there before the imminent explosion was the better part of valor.

        "Great!  Mulder, I'll see you later?" She walked over to him
and tried to kiss him, but he was turned toward Scully. In fact, he
hadn't taken his eyes off her since she had stalked into the room.
Knowing a brush-off when she saw one, she shrugged and left with
Chris.  The door closed on their animated chatter.

        "Scully-"

        "Save it, Mulder." Her wall was up, her expression a stony
facade. "Now, look... we have to do something about these storms- "

        "I think we should talk about it."

        "Oh, you do, do you?  Look, Mulder, we're partners. We aren't
married.  You can bed down with whomever you choose."

        "Okay.  This is good, we're communicating."

        "No.  What we are doing is we are wasting time while tornadoes
are devastating small communities all over this state.  People are
dying, Mulder.  Of course, you've obviously been too busy to realize
that."  She sat down at the table in the room, and started staring at
the red blots on the map that he had made of all the places the storms
had hit.

        He came over, crouched down and took her free hand, but she
tore it away. Sighing, he said softly, "Scully, I understand how you feel."

        "Do you?  Do you really?  'You understand'.... How could you?
You've been far too busy..." She waved her hand at the bed, accidently
flinging the map there.  "How could you possibly?  The people...."
Tears welled up in her eyes, the last thing she wanted to have happen.

        As a psychologist, he had always hated that line, 'I understand
how you feel'.  Truth of the matter was, he had no idea how she felt.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was now awake enough to realize
what his own reaction would have been, if he had walked in on a
similar scene. Slowly, he reached over and gathered her into his arms.

        Hesitantly, as if she hated herself for doing it, but needed
someone to hold on to too badly to stop herself, she threw her arms
around his neck. Just having him close and smelling him was comforting
to her.

        "Sshh, it will be all right."  He stroked her hair gently.
"Scully, you look like you've been through hell, and I don't blame you
at all for blowing up at me.  I'm a bastard, I deserve it, I deserve to
be b...   What is it?"

        His partner was staring at the map where it had fallen on the
bed. She tore herself away from him.

        "Mulder, look at this."

        "Scully, you're exhausted and upset. Maybe you'll feel better
after you shower and change, and then we can talk this out." He tried
to take the map from her but she turned and pulled from his reach.

        "No. Look!  The storms - they form a perfect arch!"

        He stared at her and then stood closely at her side, reading
the map over her shoulder.  He hadn't noticed before.  He had been
using a chronological list of the storms, marking their touch-down
points with red dots. But now that she had pointed it out, he couldn't
understand why he hadn't seen it before. Or was that when Candy
had...? Shaking the memory away, he gently took the map from
her hands and laid it on the table. He found a ruler and began drawing
lines through the towns that had suffered devastation.

        "What are you doing?"

        "If our weather-making theory is correct, there has to be a
focal point," he murmured, putting the finishing touches to the map.
"There!"  The lines he had drawn radiated like the spokes of a wheel.
And there, where the lines all intersected, his index finger pointed.
"Ellsworth Air Force Base."

        "Let's go!" She was halfway to the door.

        "Uh, Scully.... May I dress first?"

                                        - - - - -

        Chris escorted Candy to the diner adjacent to the hotel.  He
was thankful for the excuse to get out of the room.  Clearly, Dana
was hurt and embarrassed at finding his present companion in bed
with her partner.  It still stung a little when he thought of the
previous night and the all-too-brief moment of passion he shared with
the auburn-haired woman.  Now he knew there was something going on
between the two agents. Even if they were unaware of it themselves.

        "So..." said Chris.  He was hoping to start a conversation -
anything to break the ice.

        "So, here we are."  She smiled back and gave him a patented
head toss.  "How was your ride over?"

        "Uneventful.  After being in Cherry Creek, anything would be
uneventful."

        "What can you tell me about the storms?"

        He looked at her strangely - all of a sudden her voice sounded
so... analytical.  For the first time he believed she might actually be
a PhD in meteorology rather than just the weather girl at some
backwoods television station. "I dunno. Just your typical cyclones."

        "No, think about it.  What I'm looking for is, was there
anything different about them?  Unusual?"

        "You mean alien-like?" he laughed. "Didn't we have this
conversation in Hayes?"

        "Yes, and I do believe you find my little theory amusing."
She pouted prettily.

        He shrugged. "I don't find it amusing as much as I find
it..."  He was searching for the right word to get his feelings across
without offending her.

        "Idiotic?" she offered.

        "Well, I wouldn't go that far,"  he said sheepishly.

        She sighed.  "Why not, everybody else does," Candy said wryly,
and looked at him from under impossibly long lashes.  "But think about
it - it's late winter.  We should be up to our butts in snow, not
having thunderstorms. And these storms have been of such an intensity,
they are almost immeasurable by traditional methods.  I mean, think
about it!"

        "So what does Agent Mulder think about all this?"  He took a
bite of the bagel that had been set down before him.  He remembered
asking the tall agent his impression of the alient theory.  Mulder had
been uncharacteristically reticent about sharing his opinion, merely
saying 'I don't do impressions' in a deadpan that would have done
credit to an "Airplane" movie.

        "Well, you know...."

        "I don't suppose sleeping with him changed his mind any?"

        Candy's mood changed abruptly and she was about to lash back
at the overtired, overstressed emergency worker.  Then his expression
changed and he reached out to take her hand.  "Hey, look.  I'm sorry.
That was way out of line."

        Her look softened.  "He thinks like I do.  These storms are
unnatural and we have to get to the source. You and Dana had a tough
time in Cherry Creek, huh?"

        "Yeah.  Too bad she had to get back here.  I could use her
help."

        She looked at him ingenuously. "I get the feeling you two got
kind of close, yourselves.  Couldn't change her mind by sleeping with
her?"

        He almost choked on his coffee. "Okay, that was deserved," he
said, when he could speak again. "Truce?"

        "Truce."  They exchanged smiles and instantly felt much more
comfortable.  As they finished breakfast, they continued to get to know
each other, discovering they had both gone to the same university
and enjoyed the same kinds of music.  Finally they decided to face the
inevitable and go back to the hotel to rejoin Mulder and Scully.

        "Huh, I wonder where they are?" asked Candy, surveying the
empty room.

        "Well, there's no blood. I guess that's a good sign." Chris
glanced at his watch.  "Hey listen.  I have an idea.  I have to get to
headquarters in Rapid City and see if I can get some supplies.  You
wanna come along, since they ditched you?"

        "They didn't ditch me," Candy retorted. Well, they didn't. He
wouldn't - SHE would.  Bitch.  Did she think she had some sort of a
claim on him or something? Then again, Mulder's ardor had been
noticeably lacking in last night's proceedings. Certainly there was
none of the enthusiasm she had remembered, or expected.  Maybe his
partner did have some sort of claim. That was something to think
about. "Yeah, sure.  Why not?"

                                                - - - - -

Outside Ellsworth AFB, S.D.
Thursday
11:30 a.m.

        "So Scully, how were things in Cherry Creek?"  Mulder
noticed she had been unnaturally quiet since they set out. She had
sat in the passenger seat, not speaking and barely taking notice of
the landscape they drove through. The thought crossed his mind that
she was thinking about Chris.There was something about Chris that
Mulder didn't like, but he wasn't able to pin it down.  Perhaps it was
his boyish good looks and good-humored charm, but Scully was
definitely drawn to him, and for some unknown reason that really
bothered him.

        "Hmm. What, Mulder?"

        "Earth to Scully. I asked how things were in Cherry Creek."

        "Eh...."

        "Eh?  Is that what you are going to put on the report? Eh."

        She sighed in annoyance, he was interupting her concentration.
"Hmm? Mulder, what are you talking about?  What report?"

        "The 302 to Skinner.  What's the matter?"

        "Oh nothing, I didn't sleep well. So how were things in Hayes?
You know, I appreciate your not following us to Cherry Creek."

        "Oh, the usual.  The storms definitely aren't natural.  And
you're welcome."

        "It's just that with the storm, I wouldn't have had time to
worry about you and there were so many injured and homeless."

        Just knowing someone worried about him flattered him.  Under
normal circumstances, he would have come back with a witty remark
but he could see how tired she was. "Are you hungry?  I know you
had barely enough time to get in the door, you probably didn't even
stop to eat."  She nodded her affirmative response.  Mulder pulled over
to a diner that was just outside the air base.  The Lone Gunmen once
again had been able to come through with authorization to get them on
the base.  But it would require a little undercover work to get the
information that they needed.  Hopefully, some food would perk Scully
up.  He went out of his way to be chivalrous to her.  Obviously, her
experience in Cherry Creek had been a nightmare. He, too, felt the
plight of those homeless in Hayes. And the reports he heard from the
people in the Red Cross in Hayes weren't encouraging.  He knew about
the money problems that Myers was facing. He was also aware that
Cherry Creek was one of the harder hit communities.  Many of the
outlying settlements were either destroyed by the storm or flooded.

        "There's a table."  Mulder directed her over to a booth by the
window that faced the base.  It was almost lunch time and it was
filling up fast.  "Do you want a cup of coffee?"  As soon as the
waitress came over he ordered two cups of coffee.  "What do you
want to eat?"

        She flipped the menu over, "I'm not hungry. Get whatever you
want."

        "Scully," he reached over and put his hand on her arm.  "Are
you alright?"

        "Mulder, you should have seen what that storm was like. We
were trapped in a house that was ripped apart around us. Some
houses were totally destroyed, those that weren't still had damage.
The river swelled so fast they couldn't bag fast enough. A man died
because the wind was so strong it toppled over a dump truck."

        'We'. 'Us', thought Mulder. I should have been there with her.
"Shh... it's okay, Scully."

        The anger in her voice rose as she talked about the sick and
injured.  The poor people who had no homes and how no one was willing
to help them, not even the government, and all the crap about funding
being limited.  Mulder looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
"Scully....  Dana, all right, I get the picture. I understand you're upset,
but keep your voice down."

        "Mulder, we have to do something.  There is something on that
base that is causing those storms and I don't care if we have to
search all day - I'm going to find it."  She sat back and took a swallow
of her coffee. Putting the cup back down with more force than she had
intended, the liquid sloshed onto the table.

        "I think you've had enough caffeine for one day."  He smiled
at her and slid the cup to the side of the table.  For the first time
since rejoining her partner, she smiled back.

        "Are you Mulder?"

        He turned to see a young man in his mid-twenties who was
moving like he had ants in his pants and had singlehandedly cultivated
the grunge movement among America's youth.

        "You are?"

        "I got a call from a guy. He told me to look you up. Can I
sit?"  Mulder slid over for the young man to sit down. "This is Dana
Scully. Who's this 'guy' you got a call from?"

        "Last night.  I don't know how the heck he knew me or knew
where I'd be.  He just said he knew that I knew some things about the
storms, and I should get in touch with a 'Mr. Mulder'.  And he said we
had both better watch our backs."

        Mulder thought for a second.  A friend at the FBI?  An old
friend?  Or an enemy, setting them up?  "What did the voice sound
like?" he asked.  The sharpness of his tone drew Scully's attention.

        The kid looked at him, puzzled.  "How should I know - it was
just a voice, man."

        The agent tried to keep his patience.  "Was it a deep voice?
Did it sound like a black man's voice?  Any accent? Young or old?
You must have noticed something about it."

        "Oh.  Well, didn't sound like a black dude. Not young, but
not real old, either. I dunno, just a voice.  Maybe kinda classy...
educated, like."

        Mulder sighed.  "Okay.  What else did he say?"

        "Just that he said I should talk to you about some of the
stuff I've seen around here, and maybe what's causing the storms.  I
think he called it a theory."

        "Which theory would that be?"  Scully's anger resurfaced.

        "You know, the one about aliens."

        Her temper, forged by the events in Cherry Creek and tested
by finding her partner in bed with a gorgeous woman, finally snapped.
"Look... sir.... I don't know who you are or what you want, so unless
you can help us with some facts rather than this foolishness- "

        Scully was interrupted by the waitress.

        "Can I get you folks something to eat, or what?"

        "Uh, Scully?" Mulder waved his hand to let her go first, as
sort of a peace offering.

        "I'll have the special, whatever it is."

        "I'll have the same."

        "And you, kid, you want something?"

        "A Coke?"

        The waitress snapped her gum and walked away.

        Scully eyed the young man with obvious distaste. "You have
a name - kid?"

        "Uh... W-willie?"  The female agent was being confrontational and
it wasn't something he was use to. She was making him nervous, rattled.

        "Are you asking us or telling us?" she shot back.

        "Uh... Willie, will you please excuse us for a moment? I'd like
to have a word with my partner." At Mulder's gesture, the young man slid
out to allow him to pass.  His hand at the small of her back, he walked
with her towards the restrooms and stopped. "Listen, I understand
you've been through a lot and I know- "  she was going to retort but he
put a stop to it by holding up a hand  " -and I know, you're tired and
stressed. But you will act like a professional and treat people with
respect, no matter how crazy they appear.  Granted this alien thing
is way out there, I'll give you that. But I think we have to talk to
this guy. You go into that restroom and do whatever it is you have to
do, but get your feelings in line.  Got it?"

        Scully pulled away from him and glared. "Got it." She turned
and stormed into the bathroom.

        Mulder walked back over to the table and sat down in Scully's
spot. "I apologize for my partner.  She's been treating the injured
in Cherry Creek, and she's exhausted and over-sensitive right now."

        The kid gave him a knowing look. "Hey, man,  I understand.
I've got two sisters at home, and when they're PMS'ing, watch out."
The kid's grin faltered when Mulder failed to smile back.

        "So you have some info on the storms."  He caught Willie in
mid-swallow.

        "Oh... yeah. Yeah, see, me and some of my friends, we did
some alien watching and stuff, you know?  Well, we were out here...
oh, about a month ago- "  He stopped as soon as he saw Scully
approach the table.  Mulder had taken her seat so he slid over to
let her in.

        "Feel better?" he whispered.

        "Yes, some."  Her tone was still rather chilly, but she at
least seemed in control.  His hand covered hers for an instant and
then was gone.

        "Willie here was about to tell us....  About a month ago...?"

        "Yeah, ya see, we were watching some funky clouds out in the
Badlands. At first I thought it was because we were, like, on sacred
Indian ground, but these lights just zoomed by us.  It was most
unnatural."

        "What did these lights do?"

        "They zoomed around and then, like, turned really really quickly,
see?"  He tried to recreate the motions in with hands.  "Most awesome.
Anyway, after they left, the clouds started changing and it got really
really stormy.  These Indian people we ran into said something but I
don't remember what it was.  Anyway, it was most unnatural.  Most."

        Scully sat there and looked at the boy, then looked at Mulder.
"Were you kids by any chance drinking or anything?"  The kid blushed.
"That's what I thought.  Come on, Mulder, let's go."

        "Can't we eat first?  I think you should eat something."

        With an exaggerated sigh, she sat back down and started to eat.
Once again he was right.  That's another thing that bothered her.

        A few tables away from the odd trio, the waitress stopped.
"Do you want some dessert with that, sir, or will that be all?"  The
guy looked like he might be a good tipper, few and far between in
this place.

     "No thanks, just the check."  The waitress anticipated the
gentleman's response and laid the check on the table. The man
in his late 50's quickly paid the cashier and left the restaurant.  He
stopped at the pay phone that was just outside the door. "Yeah,
it's me, Cromwell.  They're here....  What do you mean, who?  The
FBI people.  Looks like they are talking with some local punk about
aliens....  Yeah, I understand....  Yeah....  Well, it looks like they're
heading over to the base. You tell Harrison. I'll take care of the kid."
Hanging up the phone, he lit a cigarette and waited for Willie to
come out.

        "There, are you satisfied?"  Scully finished half her sandwich and
pushed the plate away.

        "Yeah, fine.  Listen, Willie, do you have any more information
you can tell us about the base and what's going on here?"

        "Nah, man.  I know we occasionally see lights moving around,
like the ones in the Badlands.  I just know something's going on
there. Well, I gotta split. Hey, thanks for the Coke."  He got up and
left the restaurant.

        "Ready now, Mulder?  Let's just get to the base.  Pay the
check and let's go."  She got up, grabbed her coat and waited for him
to take care of the check at the cashier's stand by the door.  Out of
the corner of her eye she spied Willie getting into an unmarked car
with a man who looked suspiciously like the one who had been a few
booths down from them.

        "Ready?"  Mulder was sliding his wallet back into his pocket.

        "Mulder, Willie is getting into that car over there."  She
pointed through the glass doors of the diner.

        Her partner pushed through the door and ran after the car,
reaching for his service weapon as he did so. The driver, seeing Mulder
burst out of the restaurant, drove off with a squeal of burned rubber.

        "See, I told you he couldn't be trusted."

        He knew she was tired and emotionally strung out.  But the
smugness in her tone irritated him. He tried to quell his temper before
responding. "I'm sure there's a rational explanation. Did it ever cross
your mind that maybe he didn't go entirely voluntarily?  Let's just get
to the base and find out what the hell is going on."

        Somewhat chastened, Scully followed him to the car. 'Rational
explanation' were two words she never thought she'd hear from him
when aliens were involved.

        After some tense moments at the gate trying to get through
with their forged passes, Mulder and Scully were shown to the base
director's office. When they walked in, there was a bustle of activity.
The overworked airman, doubling as the secretary of the day, was
brusque at best.  "Wait here.  The Colonel will be with you shortly."

        They took a seat on the sofa near the coffee machine. "So
Scully, can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

        "I thought you shut me off."  She sank down into the naugahyde
of the sofa and listlessly leafed through some magazines dedicated to
military aircraft.  After almost an hour of silence and clock watching,
she had had enough waiting and wanted some action.

        "Mulder," she leaned over and whispered. "It looks like they're
stalling until we just go away.  Why don't we go exploring?

        Before he had a chance to answer, the airman answered a buzz
on his telephone and announced, "Colonel Richardson will see you now.
You have exactly five minutes of his time."  He directed them to the
door across the room.

        They entered the office, to see a man in his late fifties sitting
behind the desk. "I'm Colonel Richardson, what can I do for you?"

        "I'm Agent Dana Scully, this is my partner Fox Mulder.  We're
with the FBI."  She flashed her ID.  "We're here investigating the
strange weather phenomena this region seems to be experiencing."

        Richardson sighed and looked disgusted. "And how can the
Air Force assist the F-B-I?"  He leaned back in his chair, managing
to look both insolent and apathetic.

        "Sir,"  Mulder stepped forward to address the Colonel, "We're
here investigating the storms that have struck this area in the past
few weeks."

        "Storms?  Since when does the FBI investigate storms?  You got
a hurricane on your Ten Most Wanted list, boy?"  He laughed derisively.

        "What my partner is trying to say,sir," explained Scully,  "is that
we believe that the storms are being created."

        "What are you basing this on, may I ask?"

        "Sir," interjected Mulder, "It is a well known fact that the Air
Force has conducted weather experiments in the past.

        "Agent Mulder, the FBI teach you something called the facts?
First of all, if it is a well known fact, then how come I don't know
about it?  Second, you two are wasting my time.  I'll be sure to
compliment Mizz Reno on her crack staff next time I'm in Washington.
Enjoy your stay in South Dakota. Now, get out of my office and stop
wasting my time."

        Scully was going to argue their case longer but Mulder put his
arm to her back and directed her out.  Once they were outside, she
spluttered, "Mulder, we learned nothing from this! Maybe if we had
stayed, we could have- "

        "Scully...."  He paused, almost biting his tongue rather than
saying what he wanted to. He sighed. "Just get in the car."

        "Mulder!"

        "In the car, Scully! Now!"

        Richardson watched the two of them get in their car from the
slit between the window blinds.  After he was sure they were on their
way, he went over to his phone. "Major Harrison, I think it would be
best, in the interest of National Security of course, that we detain
those two agents. Take care of them, understand?"

        Mulder pulled out of the parking space. She was still fuming
over their meeting with Colonel, and her partner's
uncharacteristically mild response to it. "Scully, listen to me.  He
said we had to leave the base, but he didn't say we couldn't get lost.
I noticed some unmarked buildings on the map in Richardson's office.
Let's say we drive by, okay?"

        He turned down several different streets and after a few more
turns she was convinced he truly was lost. At least she was. She had
the map of the base on her lap but couldn't follow the many twists and
turns he was making.  Finally they came to an open field and there was
a building in the middle of it.

        "I think we should ask for directions, don't you?" she asked.
Mulder gave her an approving smile.  Over time they both had come to
realize that sometimes you have to make your own rules when it comes
to the truth.

        He pulled up close to a door.  The building looked more like a
hangar than a place that would be conducting alien weather experiments.
As soon as they got out of the car, two MP jeeps and a car came
barrelling down the road.  "Looks like we have company."

        Scully reached into the car and pulled out the map.

        The vehicles came to a screeching halt. "Hold it right there!"
shouted one of the MPs.

        "Look, we're lost."  She waved the map.  "We must have taken
a wrong turn when trying to leave the base.  You don't happen to
know- "  One of the MPs came over and ripped the map from her hands,
letting it be carried off in a sudden gust of wind.  They stripped the
pair of their service weapons and ordered them into one of the Jeeps.

        "Looks like another fine mess we've gotten ourselves into,"
muttered Scully.


End of Chapter Four