=====o======================================================o===== "Zurvan" by Mary Ruth Keller E-mail: mkeller@universe.digex.net =====o======================================================o===== Chapter VII - A Visit with Zeus-Ammon (Disclaimed in Chapter I) -----o------------------------------------o----- ...From Memphis the king sailed on the same river to the interior of Egypt, and after arranging matters in such a way as to make no change in the native customs of the Egyptians, he decided to visit the oracle of Jupiter Ammon... And indeed on the first and the following day the toil seemed endurable, since the solitudes to which they had come were not yet so desolate and barren, yet the land was already sterile and moribund... Four days were spent in traversing desert wastes. And now they were not far from the abode of the oracle, when a great flock of ravens met the army; flying at a moderate speed before the van, they now lighted on the ground when the line advanced more slowly, now raised themselves on their wings, as if acting as guides and showing the way. At length they arrived at the abode consecrated to the god. "History of Alexander" by Quintus Curtius Rufus translated by John C. Rolfe -----o------------------------------------o----- Lowenberg Residence Santorini, Greece Sunday, January 25, 1998 12:21 pm Margaret Scully limped alongside Caroline Lowenberg as they made their way slowly down the long driveway. The dark-haired woman checked in both directions before she stepped out into the street. "I never will get used to the differences between your lovely home and the rest of the island, Caroline." The white-haired woman shifted her weight off the twisted ankle. "Oh, don't pass the compliments onto me. Sometimes I feel like the second Mrs. DeWinter." She smiled at Margaret's over the shoulder glance. "I mean that in a good way. I have no esthetic senses whatsoever. I'm perfectly content to leave the house the way Thea set it up." Now Margaret turned to face her. "But aren't you jealous?" Caroline stared at her friend. "Of a dead woman? Why? Max loved Thea dearly. He was ready to love someone else when we met." Glancing at the ground, she began to color. "After Bill, that was enough." She ran her finger up and down the side of the crutch. "You have your memories of your Bill and your family's adoration to keep you going." Margaret grasped her elbow. "But Fox does love you. When he read through your letters to me, I thought his heart would break from joy that you were safe." Caroline sent Margaret a desperate glance of hope, one the dark- haired woman recognized instantly. "Really? After losing Samantha, we were always so separate, so distant. We talked more in Miami than we had in years." A cloud on the horizon brought both women's attention back to the street. Caroline cocked her head. "That's the Jag." She chuckled. "Why my insane husband hangs onto that convertible when it's in the shop half the time I'll never know." Margaret stared back in confusion at her friend. The white-haired woman smiled, ever so gently. "The mechanic's brother is the mayor. Max can *never* stop politicking." Since the car was close enough that the driver and passenger could wave to the two women, Margaret smiled in response. "Well, it certainly looks like Fox enjoyed the trip." She glanced at Caroline, who was biting her lower lip. Mulder leapt over the door just as Max applied the brakes. "Mom!" His eyes flicked to his left as the tires squealed, then he was in front of the white-haired woman on crutches, grasping her shoulders. "Are you OK?" Caroline wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, her fingers still curled around the cross-braces of the steel supports. "I am now, Fox." The dark-haired agent clutched her back tightly. "That little mutt. I always knew he would be trouble." The white-haired woman chuckled. "Oh, if I didn't try to be Margaret Bourke White, this wouldn't have happened. I should learn to act my age, dear." Margaret turned to Max, who was shrugging Mulder's duffle strap over his shoulder. "How was the flight?" The white-haired man smiled at the agent's back. "Too short." Mulder released his Mother, holding her shoulders long enough for her to position the pads under her armpits, then turned to Max. "I'll get that." His stepfather waved off the offer of help. "I've not learned to act my age either." Margaret stepped forward. "Fox." Mulder nearly lifted her feet off the ground in the exuberance of his embrace. "Hey. Scully says hey, too. She's OK." Margaret began leading the little group back up to the house, her gait uneven. "I'm sure she is, Fox." Mulder stopped. "Mrs. Scully, what happened to you?" Caroline hobbled alongside her son. "We'll tell you inside, dear." Nodding, Mulder relieved Max of the bag so the older man could walk beside his wife. --o-0-o-- The four had assembled in the airy living room. Mulder was dancing angrily in front of his three elders, glaring at Max and his Mother on the wicker couch, finally turning to Margaret in a padded chair. He pointed to her elevated foot. "Why didn't you tell us, Mrs. Scully? Why?" Caroline sighed. "Fox, we were fine. What you and Dana were pursuing was so much more important than us being in the wrong place at the wrong time you didn't need to know." Mulder spun. "Mom, how do you *know* that? All these groups are interconnected somehow. Saunders told us as much. It would only take a phone call to arrange a car bomb." The white-haired woman struggled to her feet, waving away Max's outstretched hands. Leaning on one crutch, she stood in front of her son. "Fox." She closed her eyes as she collected her thoughts, opening them only when she felt his long fingers grasp her arm. "Please," the tone was soft, but burdened by darkness, "don't begin to think you know what these groups are capable of. Max and I," she flicked her eyes at her husband, "had talked this over carefully - " There was a creak of wicker as Margaret rose. "I think I'll make us some lunch." Mulder frowned at the dark-haired woman's departing back. "What is it, Mom? What do you know?" Caroline wobbled on the crutch slightly. "Please, Fox, sit." She pointed to the cushions of the couch. Mulder's lips spread into a thin line. Focusing on his mother's hazel eyes, he something unfamiliar, different. The recognition had him taking a step backwards. Caroline began working around the coffeetable, but a flick of her son's hand had it out of her way and converted to a makeshift seat. "Thank you, dear." Mulder was poised on the glass-topped table, leaning forward over his mother's knees. "What do you know, Mom?" Max grasped his wrist. "That's part of what we wanted to tell you." Mulder clasped his hands between his calves. "Why did Mrs. Scully leave?" Caroline's response was even softer than her initial request. "She's not one for serious discussions, dear." The dark-haired agent shook his head. "She's been through so much with you, I'd think she'd want to know." Max sighed. "No, she doesn't. There are two kinds of hard truths, Mulder. One is related to personal matters: a friend has cancer, a child is missing. The other is impersonal: the continents move, evolution is essentially correct, we can either know where something is or what its mass is, but not both. It's rare to find a person who can handle both types well, and Margaret, for all her strengths, can only handle the former, not the latter." Caroline grasped her husband's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "The hard truth is that the car bomb was a warning to me. A good friend of Max's died during its delivery, however." Turning to his step-father, Mulder bit his lower lip momentarily. "I'm sorry." The older man waved off the concern with the flick of a finger. "It's happened before, and sadly, it will probably happen again, Mulder. It's the price we pay for the work we do." Caroline squeezed Max's palm. "That Ancient Chimney has regained power, son. There would be no other reason to signal me otherwise." Mulder glanced at the tan slate under his black shoes. "Does that mean you can't tell me anything?" Caroline leaned forward. "Oh, that was one message he wanted me hear. But, I've safe-guarded what I know where it will come out if you, Dana, or anyone connected with you is injured or killed, so the ground have shifted under that old man's feet. Not that he will ever admit it, of course." Mulder's eyes cleared. "Mom, you don't have to do this. We have enough from Saunders that you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Caroline shook her head. "We used to play chess, he and I. He would never launch one of the classic opening moves I had been taught. His favorite stratagem was to simply push pawns forward or back until he could exploit a line of attack that would put me in check three or four different ways. Mine-field chess, he liked to call it." Mulder nodded. "He'd end up stalemating, rather than winning or losing." Mother and son locked eyes. "Exactly. Knowing him like I do, I feel as if we are having a conversation interrupted fifty years ago." She glanced down at her son's white knuckles. "But there's another reason. When we find Samantha, I want there to be no secrets, Fox." She reached with her free hand for his. "I want us to be a real family: no long silences, no dark looks, no years of resentment to eat away what we could become. It would be easy for Margaret to breach this distance if she were estranged from any of her kinder, but it won't be for us, I know that. Just believe I want to try." Mulder bent double over his Mother's hand, kissing it once, not trusting himself to speak as his shoulders shook. Finally, he straightened. "That's all I've ever wanted, Mom." When Margaret stuck her head around the corner, Max grasped Mulder's shoulder. "Then I suggest, after lunch, we begin." --o-0-o-- Mulder followed his Mother into Max's study. "How did you want to do this? I could get my tape recorder." Caroline eased into Max's desk chair, a mate to the carved seat in Miami. "That won't be necessary." Swiveling, she tipped a copy of "Works and Days", then swung the bookshelf away to reveal a safe. "I told you that I've written everything down and hidden it in security." Mulder leaned against the desk on her right. "Not here?" The white haired woman worked the tumblers, then removed two bulging notebooks. "These are only copies, Fox. There are no real originals, other than up here." She tapped her temple. "I have duplicates in as many different locations as I can think to hide them. Read." She laid them in his hands. He raised his eyes to hers. "So little?" She shook her head. "No, this is only what can still be verified by other witnesses or physical evidence. I'd like you to read it, to compare it against what you've learned from Saunders. If I could know what he told you, I may be able to add more to it." Half-absorbed in the contents, Mulder nodded. "I'll call Scully," he checked his watch, "once she's done with her sessions with Stone this afternoon. We'll see what we can do electronically, and what needs to be handled on paper." Caroline set the crutches under her armpits and stood. "Good. We're still waiting for the information from Egypt to be cleared through Mossad, then we can consider travelling down there." Mulder dropped the notebooks and rose to guide his Mother to the door. "But, Mom, if you're hurt, shouldn't - ?" When he saw an unfamiliar fire in her eyes, he bit his lip rather than finish the question. "This is Sammie, Fox. Would you let a twisted ankle stop you?" A nod, then he returned to the words on the pages. --o-0-o-- Apartment 5 Alexandria, Virginia Sunday, 11:37 pm The phone buzzing on her nightstand had Scully throwing the comforter off her head. "Scully!" "Hey, it's me." She heard a rough crackle she recognized as her partner scratching the stubble on his chin. She shifted upright against the pillows. "How is Santorini, Mulder?" His sigh rattled in her ear. "Mom and Max and Mrs. Scully were almost caught in a car bomb explosion in Haifa." She rolled onto her knees. "What? When was this?" Mulder filled her in on the details, then finished softly. "I guess you were right to shove me out of the nest, Scully." She held her hair off her face with her free hand. "They didn't want us to worry? We've been doing nothing but, Mulder, did you *tell* them that? Can I speak with Mom?" "I'll see if she's around. But, - " She curled around the phone. "But what?" When she heard a chair creak, she could see him propping both feet up on whatever piece furniture was nearby. "What is it?" "We need to be able to talk in privacy." Unconsciously, she glanced at her bedroom door. "I'll call you back from the Lion's Den, OK?" "Yeah." --o-0-o-- Office of the Lone Gunmen Alexandria, Virginia Monday, January 26, 1998 5:52 am Standing beside the sofa, Frohike studied the diminutive woman relaxed in slumber for a few seconds. Like so many of her other visits to their residence, she had curled into a ball on the couch by the door, her long trench-coat pulled tightly around her. The round-faced Gunman treated himself to a casual sweep with his eyes. He surveyed the black jogging shoes peeking out beneath the wool and the compact, slender body the drape could not conceal. His gaze lingered on the auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail until her neck was cocked at what must have been a painful angle to sleep. Kneeling by her face, he called reluctantly to her. "Agent Scully?" The faint whisper sent her upright, her green-blue eyes as wide as if it had been an electric shock. "Are you ready yet?" A slight cough and she was standing, waiting for a response. Frohike nodded. "Langly's put the finishing touches on the reconstruction algorithm right now." Byers was halfway out the door when he nearly collided with Scully. "Sorry. Fro'd been gone so long we," he waved them behind him, "it's ready whenever you are." Scully sighed. "I'm not sure this is all that helpful, since a simple wiretap somewhere on the phone network of the Island itself would be sufficient to track anything we discuss, but Mulder wanted it." She looked to Langly. "You say the encoding of the voice is working on Mulder's end? How do you know?" Langly smirked. "Max had a satellite phone link installed to bypass the local systems altogether." He swiveled his chair to face her directly. "As you say, the Dark Dudes already know where we all sit, so covert is out. All we can do is encrypt and decrypt. Caroline can get radical with the gizmo-geeking so she's installed our new scheme on their computer. Had it just been everyone's favorite G-man, we'd be stuck with speaking in code like you two had to earlier." He hit a key to switch the outputs to a square black speaker. "Hey, Mulder, you ready?" A slight hiss of static, then a familiar voice, sounding slightly synthesized. "All clear, guys. You let Scully sleep some, Fro?" The round-faced Gunman stuck his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. "The better to admire her exotic beauty, my friend." Scully leaned over the speaker. "Mulder, what was it you needed to speak with me in security about?" A chuckle. "Don't use your Sig on Fro once we're done, Doctor. Remember, we still need his expertise." Preparing a jibe, Frohike puffed his chest, but one glare from Scully had him snapping his mouth shut. She growled. "What, Mulder?" Frohike waggled his thick eyebrows at her back. "My Mom needs to see the trial transcripts and the evidence from Saunders. She thinks she can authenticate some of it, and that other parts will serve as verification for what she knows." Scully knelt, holding her head up with her fist. "Is that safe for her to do?" When Byers touched her shoulder, she glanced back, then nodded and rose to perch on a bench stool he had carried over for her. "There's that deal she made, if you recall." "More to it than that. She's secreted information where Morley Man can't reach it, but if anything happens to any of us, it goes public." Scully blew out a breath. "Good thing she's on our side." "Well?" She could imagine him pacing as he waited. Scully pressed her palms against her knees. "The trial transcripts are a matter of public record, so it won't be a problem," she shrugged, "we could even mail them in the open if we so chose." "Hum. You think Skinner'll not be too crazy about letting go of Saunders' other testimony though?" She shook her head. "Understatement of the Century. Try he sleeps with it, more likely." "Oohh!" chanted a gleeful three-part chorus. Scully rolled her eyes. "Mulder-don't-tell-me-to - " Another chuckle. " - break into his office and steal it?" His voice dropped to its deepest. "Why, Doctor, I *am* rubbing off on you. Go for it, G-woman." Shaking her head, she cocked an eyebrow at Frohike. "Let me try the direct route first, all right?" She checked her watch. "If I leave now, maybe I can catch him outside the Hoover Building." She stood. "I'll let you know, OK?" "Yeah. Good Luck." A quick wave and she was gone. Frohike slid onto the metal seat. "Mulder, my man, I gotta thank you. Dana doing black and sexy." A snort. "Don't load your camera yet, Fro. She'll find some official way to get the job done." A pause. "Later, guys." "Later." They chimed in response, Langly tapping the keyboard to terminate the conversation. --o-0-o-- X-Files Offices Second Floor Hoover Building Monday, 6:57 am Dana Scully rose when the broad-shouldered form of Assistant Director Skinner blocked the doorway. "Sir, thank you for coming to see me so early." Skinner's dark eyes darted around the room. "It seems empty in here." Striding purposely forward, Scully nodded. "But not for long. When we're all in the new offices, we'll make so much noise Mulder won't be able to think." The bald Director's nostrils flared. "Have you heard from Agent Mulder?" Standing in front of him, she crossed her arms. "Several times, Sir. He needs our help to further the investigation into his sister's whereabouts. If I could have access to Tyrell Saunders' debriefing, I could - " Skinner shook his head. "Those are extremely sensitive materials, Agent Scully. There are Bureau safe-guards in place I can't override on a whim." She glanced at the tiled floor, reminding herself to check the carpets in the new building for her partner. "I'm aware of that, Sir." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Could my access to those materials be facilitated if they were requested as part of an official investigation?" Skinner's jaw set. "As an X-File? I couldn't authorize that. Chief Blevins would go clear to the Attorney General in a heartbeat." Her green-blue eyes narrowed at this new information. Turning, he closed the outer door behind him. "But, Agent Scully, if they were needed for a court case, to check a potential juror, shall we say?" He met her eyes meaningfully. She nodded. "I'll see what I can do, Sir." --o-0-o-- Alexandria Courthouse Alexandria, Virginia Monday, 9:47 am When a tall figure appeared around the corner, Scully hurried east along King Street. "Stone!" Hunched into a thick trench-coat, the towering attorney glanced back over his shoulder. "Dayh-na? You didn't need to be here today." His broad, slightly comical grin elicited an echo from her. "Not that this semi-frozen boy from the Bayou minds." Sobering, he stepped towards the glass double door of the courthouse entrance, but Scully blocked his path. "Stone, you need to requisition some more Bureau documents to help with the jury selection." Amusement set his over-sized features twitching. "Ah, and which documents would those be?" Scully took a step backwards, understanding why this man had worked so well with her partner. "All of Saunders' debriefing. You'd like to eliminate the possibility that one or more of the potential jurors might have been mentioned in it." He nodded. "Ah see. All in the name of justice." He pointed towards the entrance. "We'll find a quiet room so I can fill out the necessary forms for you. Make it all nice and proper. Since the Bureau is attempt'n to shrug off its reputation of favorin' the Prosecution, they'll have to help." They passed through the richly panelled hall, its carved plaster ceiling supported by mahogany pillars, then Stone held the brass elevator door for her. "Ladies first." His long, soft hand landed on her back gently. --o-0-o-- Lowenberg Residence Santorini, Greece Monday, 4:32 pm "Fox?" Margaret Scully poked her head through the study doorway. "The man from Mossad has finally arrived." Rising, Mulder rested his glasses on the desk, then returned the documents to the safe behind him. "Thanks, Mrs. Scully. I'll be right there." When he entered the living room, he was greeted by three somber faces. Max rose. "Mulder, this is Yuseph Hiram. He has some very serious news for us." The Mossad agent rose and extended his muscled, tapered hand. His normally olive complexion was darkened, and his average-height frame was whip-thin, making Mulder suspect most of his time was spent outside. "Good to met you, Agent Mulder." He bowed his head, covered with jet-black curls. The dark-haired agent grasped his hand briefly, then his hazel eyes narrowed. "Serious, as in reliable, or as in potentially unfavorable?" His Mother's bleak look was all the answer he needed. Feeling his world collapsing around him, Mulder slumped into the wicker chair by the telephone stand. "I don't think I want to ask." His brown eyes radiating sympathy as the American's obvious grief, Hiram passed Mulder three surveillance photographs. "The top image is of the Silverbergs as they disembarked in Cairo. The second is them boarding a cruise ship going down the Nile. Our office is guessing that they wanted to take in the sights in Egypt while they were there." Mulder flipped to the third print. "This is an enlargement of the ship's registry plaque." He looked up. "What happened to it?" Caroline sighed. "Nothing, Fox. It's what happened to the passengers." The papers slid through Mulder's now nerveless fingers. His throat constricted until he could only stammer a breathless "What?" Max grasped Caroline's hand tightly. "Tell him, Yuseph." The tanned, lean man shifted on the cushions. "When the cruise ship reached the archeological ruins at Tel El-Amarna, there was a group of militant Pan-Arabists among them." Mulder covered his face with his hand. "No. Please, no." Hiram shook his head. "I'm sorry, but they killed several American passengers and took the rest hostage." He glanced at his hands. "Sadat's government, as you know, didn't believe in negotiating with a group like this, so they assaulted the tour office where they were held. Some of the hostages were killed, some were returned directly to Cairo with the military and sent immediately to America. Given Sadat's desire to open Egypt to the West, the matter was handled very quietly." Mulder pressed his palms together, then bounced his thumbs against his nose. "But you don't know if the Silverbergs were among the dead or the hostages?" Hiram cocked his head. "It was hard enough to get this information out of the Egyptians. After what happened last fall, the last thing they want is to have a twenty year old terrorist attack dredged up to scare more tourists away." He rose. "Since there is a possibility that Israeli citizens may have been killed, Mossad is proceeding with an investigation." Mulder bounded to his feet. "What? How can you determine anything now?" Max stood by his step-son. "Several of the victims were claimed by family members, but what bodies weren't identified were buried there, Mulder. The Israeli government has been granted permission to disinter them quietly to identify the remains." Mulder looked down at his Mother. "No one identified the Silverbergs, did they?" Returning his bleak look, she shook her head. Mulder stepped up to the Mossad agent. "When can we leave?" --o-0-o-- Office of the Lone Gunmen Alexandria, Virginia Monday, 8:21 pm Pacing, Dana Scully rubbed the back of her neck as she waited for Langly to finish with his latest upgrades. Byers stopped her perambulations by blocking her path, then holding out a glass of apple juice. "If you're anything like Vicky, you've been running all day, Agent Scully." Sighing, she dropped into one of the computer chairs and drained the tumbler. "Thank you." She handed it back to him. "With the meetings and the court sessions, I'd forgotten to eat." Langly swiveled. "Well, turnabout is fair play. You'll be hitting up Mulder in the middle of the night this time." He hit the speaker controls, initiating a sequence of beeps. "We're letting little cyber fingers do the walking, see?" A cough issued from the black box. "Hey." Smirking, Scully crouched in front of the speaker. "You're not sleeping in the study, are you?" Sandpaper rubbing. "Yeah. We'll have to keep this short and sweet. We'll be leaving for Cairo in a few hours." Scully propped her head up with her fist. "Oh? Your clearances have finally come through?" "Hum. Hey, guys, can I have a minute with my partner here?" Four frowns, then the three men filed out. Scully rested her hand on top of the speaker. "What is it, Mulder?" More scrabbling on sandpaper, then a sniffle. "It isn't good, Scully. Mossad is checking for us, but," she heard the chair creak as he stood, "they're afraid the Silverbergs were caught in an bomb attack by Islamic Militants. Apparently what happened at Luxor last November is old news." Dana Scully wanted nothing more than to crawl into the holes of the speaker, to pull herself along the copper and fiber to reach the man drowning in naked grief at the other end. "Mulder, it isn't true. Sam's still out there, waiting for you to find her. You can't lose hope now." "Oh, God, Scully, what if it is? What if all we find is a plaque with names?" She could imagine him rising to pace. "All we've been through, you and I, my family and yours, all to end down there in, in - " A whimper. She gripped the little box with both hands. "Mulder! Mulder, listen to me! It's a lie! You know they've told you lies before. I'll set the Gunmen on tracking down anyone by the name of Silverberg here in America. Don't let them win, Mulder." "What?" Flickers of hope in the tone. "If you believe she's dead, you'll give up in despair and stop pursuing them, which is what they've always wanted." She eased into Langly's padded chair. "Send me more details on this attack and we'll see if any foreign orphans matching her description turned up in this country shortly thereafter." "Orphans?" A creak as he settled against the velvet pads. "Mulder, your Father told me on the Solstice that they would make certain he never found her again. How better to do it than by staging her adoptive family's death?" A sniffle, followed by a dark silence. "I thought you didn't believe any of that was real, Scully." She dropped her forehead to the desk-top momentarily. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Mulder. It may have been real, or it may have been my unconscious sending up an image borne from those memories of mine. I haven't recalled everything that happened to me in those missing three months, in case you've forgotten." He grunted. "You've read too much Freud, Doctor." The lightness in the tone reassured her, creasing her cheeks. "I may have, but I'm not ready to quit. I have the transcripts and Saunders' statements here. The Gunmen and I can scan them in to send to you whenever you return." "OK. It'll have to be then, I suppose. I don't like it that my Mom and your Mom are coming along. I'd feel safer if it was just me and Max, or just, - " There was that sandpaper scratching again. She cocked her head. "Just what?" A sigh. "You and me, Scully. I'd feel..." he stopped. Scully glanced down at the scuffed grey surface. "Thank you, Mulder, I wish I were there, too. I feel like I'm spinning my wheels going through this trial all over again. But we'll be moving the office soon, Cynthia and I." "Oh?" "The new building is ready for us. I was planning on having the Gunmen scan it and set up anti-bugging devices as we moved in. That sound good to you?" "Yeah." She patted the speaker. "Mulder, try to get some sleep tonight. Take care of yourself in Egypt. Sam needs to hug her big brother and her mother when we find her, OK?" "Yeah." A cough. "I'll be in touch." --o-0-o-- Along the Nile Friday, January 30, 1998 1:27 pm Mulder had finally worn out with his endless pacing, collapsing in a deck chair at the bow of the motorized yacht. Yuseph Hiram approached the dark-haired agent quietly. He had been enchanted by Margaret Scully's description of her auburn-haired daughter, but he knew that here was a wealth of information going untapped. Also, if anything would calm the FBI agent, it would be a discussion of his absent partner. Mulder stirred, blinking up at the brown curls above his face. "Hey." Hiram leaned against the railing. "I need a favor from you." Now the tall agent was on his feet. "What?" The lean, tanned Israeli crossed his arms. "Tell me about your partner." Mulder danced around him. "Why?" Hiram shrugged. "It passes the time. Her mother trotted out all the photographs she had, but most stop when Dana graduated from college." Mulder shoved his hands in the pockets of his canvas shorts. "What is it to you what Scully's like? She's the best agent I know and it has been my privilege to work with her. So? How soon do we reach El-Minya?" Hiram held up both hands. "Hey, it'll be tomorrow. I've pulled out all the stops to get us there, Mulder. The only highway along the Nile will take two more days to clear from this latest sandstorm. Humor me. Tell me about Dana Scully. Her mother said she was missing for several months." Now the tall agent ran both hands through his hair. "Yeah, she was. We've never really worked out all that happened to her while she was gone. She's remembered some of what happened to her, and we've verified parts of that. But as for what happens to her long- term with her health," Mulder shook his head, "I couldn't begin to guess." He eyed the lean, tanned Mossad agent. "Do you think your agency could help?" Relieved to have made some connection with the dark-haired American, Hiram nodded. Digging in his back pocket, Mulder flipped out several photographs, tapping the first. In the image, Scully had a Baltimore Orioles cap jammed on over her auburn hair, and Mulder was squinting into the sun. "This was her before she was taken. We had gone to Camden Yards for a game against the Yankees after a case in Baltimore because we both needed a little down-time." His lopsided grin spread. "She's sure one for the stats." Something dark flickered over his face, then he flipped the photo over. "This is us at RFK the following year. My dad had two season tickets and," he shook his head, "you can see how much the disappearance changed her." He shoved the images into the other man's hand. "If you guys could find out anything," he bit his lower lip momentarily, "well, we'd both appreciate it." Hiram nodded. "She looks like she survived a prison camp." Mulder lifted the photos away, tucking them back in their plastic flap. "Yeah, in a way, we think she had." He pocketed the leather billfold. "So, what was it you wanted to know about her?" Hiram took Mulder's seat. "She likes sports?" Mulder nodded. "She works hard to overcome what she sees as her physical limitations and sports just enhance her competitive edge." "Any hobbies?" The tall agent shrugged. "Who has time? She roller-blades and reads about archaeology and history to relax." He waggled his fingers towards the East bank. "She'd love to be here, seeing this." Hiram leaned back. "Any boyfriends?" Mulder sagged along the railing until he was seated on the deck. "No. No time. She and I are on the road too much to have any kind of a stable relationship with anyone, either of us." He squinted up at the brown curls. "Why?" Hiram shifted, feeling like he was being subjected to a father's or brother's cross examination. Hoping to deflect the American's concern, he shrugged. "Nothing serious. Her Mom made her sound like Wonder Woman, that's all. I figured everybody has a few flaws. I'll leave you to your solitude, then." The lean man slid off the canvas. Max walked up to join them. "We have a satellite link, Mulder, if you wanted to check in with your partner." Mulder grinned again. "Yeah, after Mrs. Scully is finished, I will." He pushed himself to his feet and hurried off. --o-0-o-- Margaret Scully looked up from the communications console. "We have to type in messages, but at least it's near-real time." She tapped the upper half of the screen. "Her words appear here, yours below." Nodding, Mulder bent over her shoulder, scanning the last line. "It's been busy, but I don't mind. The trial is proceeding very slowly." Margaret yielded the seat to Mulder. "I'm finished here, Fox." Mulder pounded rapidly on the keyboard. "Hey, Spookster's checking in." He leaned back. The letters of the reply popped on the screen all at once, as if they had been typed in a rush. "Mulder! Good to read you." Mulder checked over his shoulder to be certain they were alone, then smirked as he typed. "I have a handsome Mossad agent all primed for an evening with my resident Mrs. Peel." The answer window was unchanged, then he read, "Oh? He comes with the Mulder seal of approval?" More pounding. "He thinks he does." He waited. "Good to read you joking, Mulder. Is there anything I can do on this end? I have the documents and if you gave me your location, I could deliver them in person." He grinned as he typed. "I take it a move isn't high on your list of pleasurable pursuits?" "What do you think? Seriously though, if there's any forensics you need verified, any at all, give me a buzz. I know how important th - " Mulder frowned, looking away only when the Captain appeared. The thin man in white shook his head. "Sorry, Sir, we lost the link. We'll be able to get something tomorrow about this time." Mulder crossed his arms and muttered. "I still don't see how this is more secure than a phone conversation." Hiram appeared beside him. "Egypt's a third world country in many ways, Mulder. You can't expect the same conveniences here as in America." Mulder snorted as he stood. "Yeah. It's the first time I've been in a place where a boat's faster than driving." He barreled past the Israeli to speak with his partner's mother. "Mrs. Scully!" The dark-haired woman turned. "That was quick." Mulder trotted up to her. "We lost the link. What did you two talk about?" Margaret studied the fidgeting agent. "Nothing much, really. She wanted to be certain I was taking care of my leg." Glancing around, Mulder pulled a deck chair close to the older woman. "That's all? Nothing more?" Margaret slid onto the still-compressed cushions. "She was concerned about you, Fox. She worried whether you were sleeping enough." Mulder flopped onto the painted planks, crossing his long legs. "Yeah, well, Mrs. Scully, she doesn't need to know that I'm not." Margaret shook her head. "She's your partner, Fox." He began tugging at the hem of his T-shirt. "Right now, she's busier than I am; she's carrying more responsibilities by herself than she should." Margaret grasped his shoulder. "I have faith that Samantha isn't buried at Tel El-Amarna, Fox. She's safe and well." Mulder fought to keep his eyes from shining with tears. "Yeah. I hope so." Margaret cocked her head. "She also told me about Akhenaton and his attempt at monotheistic worship of Aton. She made me promise to take pictures of the ruins." She ran her hand down the back of his head. "Think on that, Fox." He sighed, forcing himself to joke. "Oh, that's what kept you on so long. She was explaining things to you." Dark ridges grew between his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, I gotta go." He was on his feet and away before she could protest. "They're both so alike." Max's hazel eyes were focused on the cabin that blocked his view of his stepson. Margaret looked up at the white-haired speaker who had just joined her. "Caroline is just as frantic, I take it." Max sighed. "As much as a seventy-seven year old on crutches can be." He unfolded the green canvas chair he had carried out with him. "She's finally collapsed, and I wanted to take this opportunity to see how he was doing." Margaret waited until he was seated. "This was how Fox was when Dana was missing, this worrying himself to exhaustion." When Max rubbed his forehead, she grasped his shoulder. "How are you?" His moustache pulled above an uneven smile. "Getting too old for this, Maudie." He patted her hand. "I also have faith that Sam isn't among the victims." Margaret shifted. "For sanity's sake, I must, but you usually have something substantial to pin your hopes on. What makes you say that?" Max leaned against the canvas back. "If the deaths had come from a surprise explosion, like a car bomb, I would be agreeing with Mulder and Caroline. But usually in hostage situations, even if there's no negotiation, children are turned over to the authorities." He looked over at her. "Usually. This was well before the attack that killed Sadat, so tempers may have been more in check." He shrugged. "That's what I'm counting on, anyway." Margaret nodded. "I suppose you've tried to explain this to Caroline?" He sighed. "I've had about as much success with her as you've had with her son." Margaret clasped her hands together in her lap. "Then, let tomorrow come soon. One way or another, at least the waiting will be over." --o-0-o-- Tel El-Amarna El-Minya, Egypt Saturday, January 31, 1998 8:27 am Mulder, his duffle strap slung over his shoulder, was circling the deck of their cruiser, waiting for the boat to finish docking. Once the exit-way had been fastened, he was preparing to leap over the rope gate, but Hiram grasped his shoulder. Mulder glared back. "It's been long enough!" The Mossad agent guided him out of the way. "Let the forensics team out first, Agent Mulder. We have an agent who has already marked out the locations of the burial, but it's important we collect evidence properly." Mulder bared his teeth at the man with the brown curls. "This isn't *your* sister we're talking about." Understanding the importance of professional detachment afresh, Hiram shook his head. "No, it isn't. But I'm certain Agent Scully would caution you just as I am." Mulder relaxed marginally, then turned to hoist a forensics crate over the duffle bag. "Anything's better than waiting." Max had his arm on Caroline's back, guiding her along the deck, and called out to the Mossad agent. "How long before we reach the burial site?" Hiram reached to relieve Margaret, who was following behind, of some of her burdens. "Only a few minutes. The transport is more to spare us carrying everything than for the distance. There's room on the bus we've commandeered for all of us." Looking down onto the dock. "It seems Mulder has taken on the task of loading equipment single-handedly." Caroline followed his gaze to a battered, rusty Ford bus, where the assembled team members were watching Mulder load their trunks and crates. "Perhaps he'll calm down, just a little." Max stepped back. "You ready, Lin-chen?" She gripped his hand. "As much as I'll ever be." --o-0-o-- Tel El-Amarna El-Minya, Egypt Saturday, 1:32 pm Max mopped his brow with a gritty towel, then plopped a torn straw hat back on his white hair. The Mossad forensics team had cleared from the area of the burials the few scraggly bushes that had grown up, and were blocking the ground in a grid pattern with stakes and string. He and Margaret had volunteered for either digging or sifting or both, and were now waiting for their first load of dirt. Margaret patted her gardening hat down firmly as she scanned the team working in front of them. "Do you see Fox anywhere?" Max chuckled. "The last I saw, he was carrying tables from the bus." He glanced at his wife. "Poor Caroline. I know she hates to feel useless." A querulous tenor cut through the murmurs. "What's the problem here? When are you getting started?" Some of the assembled workers were spreading out rag rugs and beginning to kneel. Margaret turned to Caroline, who was just catching up to them. "He doesn't understand that they're Muslims?" The white-haired woman nodded. "Fox just sees this as another delay." She smiled up at Max. "I think I have an idea as to how I can distract him." Mulder spun at his mother's call, and when she waved him over, he nearly tripped on the string in his haste to reach her. "Mom? What is it?" She tipped her head to look up at her son. "While this digging is beginning, I'd like to find out if any of the nearby residents here were around at the time of the siege." Mulder frowned. "Yeah. That might not be a bad idea. But we'll need a translator." Caroline nodded. "Yes, for some reason, this wasn't one of the languages I learned at home." She chuckled. "A translator." Hiram had begun trotting over when Caroline had called out. "Need a translator for what? I speak the local dialect passably well." Caroline smiled up at him, his height and build so similar to her son's. "We were thinking of finding some witnesses, if any are still alive." The brown curls bobbed. "We've already recovered everything we can from the archives. I don't think many of the people living here were interviewed, so we can start with the few old men in the village." He pointed to a tan jeep. "I have the keys. Let's go." Max guided his wife towards the wide-tired vehicle, waiting until Mulder was wedged into the back seat so they could both help her up into the high passenger compartment. Mulder twisted his legs around to the side. "Don't worry, Max, she'll be safe with us." Max nodded. "I'm sure she will be." Caroline blew Max a quick kiss, then they were on their way. --o-0-o-- X-Files Offices Second Floor J. Edgar Hoover Building Saturday, 8:03 am Dana Scully tore the strip of packing tape off the roll with her teeth, then wearily pressed it into the top of an unmarked government-issue carton. Cynthia, her long brown hair in a braid, glanced over. "Agent Scully?" She bit her lip momentarily. "You've been at this since last night, haven't you?" Scully nodded. "I'm trying to beat the snowstorm. If we can get the U-haul loaded and unloaded by tonight, we should be all right." She rose when the sound of voices echoed down the hall. Frohike led the other two Gunmen into the former X-Files offices. "The new spaces are all clean. We can move whenever you're finished here." Scully scribbled a number on top of the box she had just taped. "OK, I think that's it." She looked towards her partner's office. "Sir?" Walter Skinner rolled the easy chair through the door on a handcart. "Yes?" Scully smoothed down the sides of her black jeans as she walked over to him. "Are you finished in there?" The bald Director shook his head. "I've taped the desk drawers, but those piles are beyond me to categorize. Do *you* understand how he kept all that stuff straight?" Scully arched one auburn eyebrow. "Steno's Law of Superposition, Sir." Her hand over her mouth, Cynthia giggled. Skinner frowned at the two women before Byers stepped forward. "Youngest on top, Director Skinner." Turning back to the diminutive agent, the bald ex-Marine nodded. "How did you wish to proceed, Agent Scully?" He pushed up the sleeves on his fatigue sweater. "I'm entirely at your disposal for the day." In the doorway, Langly grinned as he admired the taut muscles on the Assistant Director. Frohike whispered in his ear. "Down, boy. Married, remember?" Byers shook his head at his compatriots, silencing them. Scully tucked a stray lock of hair back into her ponytail clip. "Well, Sir, if you and the Gunmen would start moving the furniture, I'll take a stab at those piles with Cynthia." The brunette grabbed a handful of boxes and was through the door before Langly could step up to Skinner's side. The bald director eyed him. "Let's start with the furniture in this part of the room, then we'll see how full the trailer is." Langly tipped Cynthia's desk up on end. "What about your quarters?" Skinner stopped in his efforts to angle the easy chair out the door sideways. "The Bureau movers are coming this Tuesday. Too many of us carting office belongings would rouse suspicion." Byers took a roll of duct tape from Frohike. "Think we should warn Walter?" The round-faced Gunman shook his head. "And spoil the fun? Nope. It's been a while since our boy developed a crush on somebody." Scully poked her head back through the doorway. "What are you guys talking about?" Red-faced, Byers waved his hand at her. "Nothing, Agent Scully. Go back to Mulder's table." Her ponytail swaying, the agent disappeared. As he shifted boxes to provide a clear path for Scully's desk, Frohike spoke towards the open door. "Someone might as well have some fun; after all, the Lady of Tara *continues* to rebuff my tender affections." A lazy alto floated out of the larger office. "I *heard* that." Frohike called back. "You were supposed to!" --o-0-o-- El-Minya, Egypt Sunday, February 1, 1998 3:54 pm Mulder waited for his Mother to step forward, then Hiram stopped in front of yet another toothless old man. He called out a question softly, then waited. The grizzled, turbaned senior pointed towards a doorway across from them. Mulder leaned over Hiram's shoulder. "What?" The Israeli turned. "He says we should talk to the owner of that house." The three crossed the square slowly, Hiram calling out a greeting when they were at the window. A middle-aged man with a twinkle in his eye poked his head out. "Yes?" Caroline gasped. "You speak English?" The proprietor nodded. "I attended an American school in Cairo. It comes in handy with the tourists." Mulder crossed his arms. "Do you know why we're here?" The man disappeared, then stepped through the doorway. "Of course. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone decided to investigate what happened. I didn't expect it would be after I had ten sons, however." He waved at the back of his small house. Caroline presumed he was indicating the family sleeping quarters. "So, what can you tell us? Were you there for the attack?" The proprietor shrugged. "Of course I was. We all were. Only now is it worthwhile to come forward." When Caroline began wobbling on her crutches, their host clapped his hands twice. Two black-haired young men, both in their middle teen years, appeared with a high padded stool, holding it until the white-haired woman was settled. "Thank you." The two teenagers bowed and vanished. Their host waved the agents towards a pile of pillows, which Hiram and Mulder moved to remain close to Caroline. Once they were settled, their host drew a deep breath. "It was early in the morning when the take-over happened. I was still unmarried, so I was waiting on the dock to sell trinkets to the tourists who were disembarking." He shrugged. "There was some shouting, some shooting. Then the Arabists took the passengers to the main building. After two days, the soldiers from Cairo arrived, with some foreigners." Mulder stretched his long legs out in front of him. "Foreigners?" Their host nodded. "Men in grey suits. Expensive suits. They kept in the background, only coming out to speak when the leader of the Arabists was willing to negotiate." Hiram cocked his head. "They negotiated?" The proprietor rose. "Yes. Because of the men in Grey. We all thought it very odd, but said nothing. Since I have the only free rooms in the area, the men in Grey and some of the officers stayed here." He waved his hand. "The children stayed here as well." Caroline gripped the crutches, resting crosswise on her lap. "Children? Which children?" Having retrieved a small box, the man settled down again. "Mostly boys, but one girl. One of the grey suits was especially careful about the girl." Mulder and Caroline exchanged a glance, then the dark-haired agent spoke. "What did the girl look like?" The man closed his eyes for a moment. "More like a boy than a girl, actually. The Grey Suit kept using a boy's name on her, but she kept correcting him." He shrugged. "They were both very insistent about it." Mulder could scarcely keep still. "What was her name?" The proprietor popped the top of the box. "Sarah. Yes." He lifted out a dress. "She and the Grey Suit departed before everyone else did, so quickly, in fact, that they left these possessions behind." Mulder crawled across the space. "May I?" The turbaned man handed the box over. Mulder spread the contents across the dirt floor. A blue dress, a little book of Hebrew stories, the gilded letters for the title on the back cover, and a pair of black patent shoes were scrutinized by the three guests. Caroline struggled to lift out the print they had found at the Kibbutz. "That's the dress she was wearing in the school photo, see?" Mulder nodded. "I wonder who the man in the Grey Suit was?" Their host lit a home-rolled cigarette. "He never said, but I remember the eyes. Sad, worldly-wise, as if he were as old as the desert and had seen as much greatness pass before him." Mulder gasped. "I was expecting you to say someone else." Caroline nodded. "So was I." She turned to her son. "I take it you knew him as well?" Mulder nodded. "He gave his life for me, Mom. Scully and I will have to tell you about it sometime." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes, that would be like him. Even while Bill and my Mystery Man were jockeying for my attention, he was there, too. Always so morose." She reached for her son's hand. "I'll want to know." Extricating himself from his Mother's grip, Mulder hugged himself. "I trusted him." Blinking back tears, he began rocking. "Before I knew that I could rely on Scully, he was the *only* one I trusted." Caroline struggled to her feet. "We should go back to the others and tell them. Whatever happened to the Silverbergs, it didn't involve Sam." --o-0-o-- Dark Apartment Washington, DC Sunday, 10:32 am As the Man with the Morleys checked through his spyhole, he let out a chuckle. He unlocked the door. "Yes, my young friends, what can I do for you?" McConnell pushed 'Charlie' in ahead of him. "Where is she?" The old man lit a cigarette. "Where she is much happier, no thanks to you." 'Charlie' knocked the tube from his lips. "Tell us! We were just waiting for the wedding, then things would have been right again!" A grey brow arched. "Would they? I wonder. Do you have any idea of the caliber of mind you were resigning to a life of unrelenting domesticity? Do you?" He reached for another Morley. "I think not. She is where she is free to work as she needs, without concern for in-laws or toilets." McConnell stepped up to the old man. "Is she being paid?" A snort. "Of course. There are reserves untapped that you know nothing of. That you begrudged her a few of the dollars she was bringing in to the Organization is what set you in this mess to begin with." 'Charlie' crossed his arms. "But she was the one who suggested it! For the good of all, she said." The dark eyes regarded him sadly. "No one should be forced to make unnecessary sacrifices indefinitely. That is what you were asking of her, whether you realized it or not." The rotund man staggered to a nearby couch and collapsed. "I thought she loved me. I thought she honestly loved me." The old man stood over him. "She does. She misses you." He scribbled an address on a slip of paper he had pulled from his desk drawer. "As I said, no one should be forced to make unnecessary sacrifices indefinitely." 'Charlie' stared at the white card dangling before him, but made no move to accept it. McConnell snorted. "What is that, a trap? Are you sending us to our deaths?" A roll of dark eyes. "Don't overinflate your importance. I could have you eliminated at any time. This offer is genuine." 'Charlie' reached out to rest his thick fingers on the letters, then dropped his hand. "Why are you giving me this now?" The old man recalled, suddenly and painfully, the sound of a woman's long-ago laughter amidst the ringing of crystal and China. "I have my reasons." Slowly, 'Charlie' took the paper. "What do I owe you for this?" McConnell dragged him to his feet. "What do you mean? You're only doing what is right! She needs to be back with you and with us, not with him." After sending the red-haired man a disgusted frown, 'Charlie' looked to his former superior. "Am I to become your spy for this?" The Smoking Man shook his head. "No. Payment will be rendered at a time and in a manner of my choosing. You know the rules. Now, go." As the door closed behind the pair, McConnell studied the address. "It was tough enough to get here, now we need to drive all the way to Calvert County?" 'Charlie' glared at him. "If you don't want to come, I understand. But I won't wait any longer to see her again. I don't care if I have to hitch up twelve mutts from the pound to a dogsled." McConnell dropped a hand to his shoulder. "No. Don't say that. Of course I'll drive you. I want you both to be happy." --o-0-o-- Tel El-Amarna El-Minya, Egypt Sunday, 5:01 pm Max stopped shaking the screen when he spied Mulder, his wife, and Hiram approaching. "It looks like they've found something, Maudie." Margaret turned. "They look happy." The pair balanced the handles on the cone of sand, then hurried towards them. Max grasped his wife's arm. "What did you find?" She stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. "She was taken away by someone I knew from the Organization, Max. She's somewhere in the US, we feel certain." Mulder held up the box triumphantly. "There were some of her clothes, and a book she was reading at the time. I want to call Scully." Hiram stepped around him. "We can perform whatever tests need to be done, Mulder. You don't have to worry about getting them back to the States." Mulder's jaw set. "No offense, but we've had too much evidence disappear on us in the past. Scully and the Gunmen will know what to do." Margaret took off her gardening hat to fan herself. "But we've already excavated the bodies that were buried here." She pointed to a sad row of hastily assembled coffins. Hiram stepped forward. "We can take care of this from here, if you folks want to return to Cairo via truck. The sand's been cleared off the highway, so it should only take you a day or two to return to the coast." Mulder nodded. "But first, I talk to Scully." --o-0-o-- Office of the Lone Gunmen Alexandria, Virginia Sunday, 11:47 am Frohike rolled out of bed when he heard the computer alarm go off downstairs. "Hey, Langly, call Agent Scully!" He banged on his friend's door as he trundled past it and down the stairs. Activating the text communications software, he typed hastily: "Hang on, Mulder, we're all bushed from moving." He waited. In the upper window, he read, "Oh, yeah, how did it go?" Frohike tapped out easily: "No sweat. Your new offices are clean. Dana dearest treated us all to pizza and beer afterward." "Ooh, Fro, you'll have to fill me in later. I need to talk to Scully." Frohike checked over his shoulder when Byers staggered through the door. "No can do, G-man. We had two feet last night. The city's at a stand-still." "Yeah. I can imagine. Well, at least call her. I have clothing that may have been Sam's I need her to run some tests on it." The round-faced man frowned as the keys clicked. "You're s***ting me, right?" "No way. If we can believe the chatty coot we got them from, an old friend of the family saw to it she was safe. I'll be driving back to Cairo with this stuff as soon as I finish here. At least there I can use the phone like a normal person, but it'll be Tuesday at the earliest before we can talk again. How do people live like this?" Frohike chuckled as he typed. "It worked for millennia, man. Chill and we'll sled-dog it to the Doc's, as Langly would say." "Yeah. Lat - " Frohike sighed, turning to speak to the other Gunmen when they entered, Langly still with a phone on his ear. "We lost the satellite link. Can you reach Agent Scully?" The blond man shook his head. "No. But the phone lines may be out. Power's out across the area, too, so it may have hit her cellular provider." He checked his watch. "Do you think it's worth the effort to go over there?" Frohike nodded. "It's about Samantha." Byers rubbed his face. "OK. I'll dig out the driveway then." --o-0-o-- Apartment Complex Alexandria, Virginia Sunday, 1:34 pm Byers and Langly watched from the front seats of the van as Frohike shoved the side entrance door of Scully's apartment building open. Thanks to the reflected light from the pristine snow surface, they could also glimpse him banging ineffectually on her front door. After a couple of minutes, he hopped back down the lawn to the street, stamping his feet in the slush to clear his boots before he climbed in the rear. From the driver's seat, the bearded Gunman looked over his shoulder. "You don't suppose she went back to unpack after the pizza, do you?" Langly nodded. "That'd be the Doc. She probably expected to be able to get back via Metro, but with that closed today, she'll be there until tomorrow." Frohike leaned forward. "Gentlemen, we have a mission." --o-0-o-- FBI Washington Field Office K Street, Washington, DC Sunday, 5:02 pm The three Gunmen shuffled outside the locked doors of the new office building, Byers with the tiny phone on his ear. "Nope, her cellular's still out." He looked to Langly. "Do you remember if the lines were hooked up in the office yet?" The blond man nodded. "Yes. I checked them for taps. It's their same old number." Frohike shook his head. "We have to get them to change it. Old habits die hard, I know, but it'll make them vulnerable." Byers pressed his hand against the glass as the buzzes sounded in his ear. He grinned when a sleepy 'Scully' came back to him. "Agent Scully? Are you in there?" A wry alto chuckle. "No Byers, I'm an alien clone. What brings you guys down to the Bureau on a Sunday?" The bearded Gunman sighed. "Who else?" The voice was all alertness. "He's found something? Wait right there." In a few minutes, she appeared in the entrance hall, still in her black jeans and dark grey sweatshirt from the previous day. After pushing the door open from the inside, she waved them towards her. "I'm surprised you three haven't figured out how to break in yet." Frohike stuck his chest out. "Ah, the Bureau needs to remain ignorant of our true talents, Agent Scully." A slight crease of one cheek, then she led them up the stairs to the third floor. "Sorry, the elevators aren't working today." They followed her to a thick steel door with a neat stack of collapsed boxes on the left and a cypher-lock on the right. She tapped on six different numbers, then pushed the barrier away and stepped through. Byers let out an astonished 'Ooh' at the arrangement of the interior. "Agent Scully, this is just like the office back at the Hoover Building." Rubbing the sides of her hips, she shook her head. "Not exactly. Cynthia will be sharing Skinner's front office with Gloria next door, so her desk is in there." She pointed to the wall on her right. "Mulder's office is the same size as mine though." Frohike smirked. "I won't be the one to tell him that, will you?" She shrugged. "He still has two windows, while I only have one." She led them into her partner's quarters. "I hadn't intended to do this, but after we finished with dinner, I realized I'd forget which stacks went where on Mulder's table if I went home to sleep, so I came back here." She waved her arms at the interior. "I know I won't have everything just the way he left it, but we'll be a while settling in. Once I had his office done, it was just as easy to unpack mine." Langly's eyes travelled over the "I Want to Believe" poster, the basketball, and the table, before they stopped at the padded chair. "Hey, you're having to prop this against the door. You won't be able to close it now." She crossed the room to grasp the padded back. "We rarely did back at the Hoover building anyway. We can have the hinges moved to the other side of the frame if it becomes a problem." She clenched her fists. "You said Mulder has something on Samantha?" Frohike nodded. "Some clothing and personal possessions that need to be identified. He said an old friend of the family took her away before the hostage crisis became too heated." She dropped onto the Naugahyde. "The Smoking Man? But why? What would propel any of them to look out for her?" Frohike leaned against Mulder's desk. "Concern for an old colleague?" She shook her head, a few wisps of darkened hair falling out of her ponytail. "No, those vipers would have sold each other out in a minute if they thought it was for the good of the Organization. There must have been something else." Rubbing her forehead, she lapsed into silence. Langly knelt before her. "Is Kojak going to be next door all the time? How have you stood working for someone that good-looking all these years?" Scully raised her eyes to his. "What? It's bad enough I get innuendoes about Mulder. But Director Skinner? I'd been thrown out of the Bureau for even contemplating such a thing." She leaned forward. "Langly, you've joked about him before. You're not - " The blond man rose stiffly. "Yeah, so what if I am? Agent Rosen's lifestyle didn't bother you." He began to cross his arms, then grunted in surprise when the auburn-haired woman scrambled off the cushions to hug him fiercely, if briefly. Flushing bright red, she collapsed on the stuffed chair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. But," she found her feet again, "you've been tested, haven't you? You're OK?" She grasped both his wrists. "I've lost too many friends and family members, Langly, I don't want anything - " The blond Gunman gripped her shoulders. "I'm clean, Doc. But thanks for being concerned. Most people aren't so accepting." Frohike pushed his way in front of Langly. "Agent Scully, you need to go home and rest. We'll fill you in on what Mulder told us on the way." Scully found herself flushing again. "Yes. Of course." Heading back into her office, she shrugged into her coat. "I don't see how Mulder runs on so little sleep. I feel like I'm swimming through wool right now." --o-0-o-- Secured Residence Calvert County, Maryland Sunday, 6:01 pm The four wheel drive vehicle was waved past the last checkpoint. McConnell spoke to his portly friend softly. "It looks like we were expected." 'Charlie' nodded. "I think we were. I wonder how much of the Organization he controls now?" Once they had rolled to a halt outside the main entrance, McConnell turned off the engine. "I don't know, but I think 'Finn' and I should find out." He glanced over at the black frames that matched his own. "Good Luck." 'Charlie' sighed as he opened the door. "You too." He nodded to the guard who keyed in the code for his admission. Once inside, he called out, "Lisa? Are you here?" A blur of jeans and red sweatshirt, then he was flat on his back, smiling at the brunette curls above him. "Lisa?" 'Ace' grinned. "It's me." She helped him to his feet. "Come see my computer set-up! I don't know where Black Lung gets the money for all this stuff, but I'm better-connected here than back at the Bureau, even." She shook the fingers she was clasping. "And he understands it all! He comes down here at least four times a week and we *talk*!" Trailing along behind, 'Charlie' bit his lip. He focused outside himself as she pointed towards the stacked grey computer cases for her new parallel- processor. 'Ace' dropped his hand to wave both hers towards the blinking lights. "It all runs under Linux and it's faster than any of the Crays!" --o-0-o-- Apartment 5 Alexandria, Virginia Tuesday, February 3, 1998 6:12 pm Dana Scully stepped gratefully out of her heels and onto the cool tiles of her bathroom floor. As she was drawing the water for a long, hot bath, she frowned. Trotting into her living room, she confirmed that her portable was indeed, rattling madly on its stand. She lifted it to her ear. "I haven't caught you in the middle of being hot, naked, and wet, have I?" She beamed. "Call back in ten." "Ooh, a woman in black who gives orders." Her phone still pressed into her face, she sighed. "You OK, Mulder? It must be after midnight your time." A grunt. "It is. We've just reached the Bureau field office in Cairo, which has the first secured phone line I've been able to find in this bass-ackwards excuse for a country. Scully, you'd love it. I drifted past more Pharaoh's tombs from the eighteenth dynasty than I care to count." Slipping out of her jacket, Scully chuckled. "Mulder, there weren't many Pharaohs in the eighteenth dynasty. The priests of Ammon wiped out nearly all official records of Akhenaton's existence. Besides, most of them were buried down in Thebes, not up where you were working." "Yeah, and you aced all your pop quizzes in school, didn't you?" She wriggled out of the thick tan skirt, hoping Mulder wouldn't hear the shifting of lining against slip or the soft plop as the weighted wool pockets hit the tiles. "Nope. Flunked every one. I was no good at thinking on my feet and choked. It hurt me in a couple of classes. Who's we? Is Mom there?" "Hum. *We* is your partner, who's appreciates the background noises, and Mister Dark and Mysterious Mossad Agent who thinks you're Diana Prince, thanks to your Mom. Mom and Max and Mrs. Scully have headed back to Santorini. All I need is for someone to come out and pick up this package I have, and, for you, dear Doctor, to carry on with your work." She could imagine his lopsided grin spreading over his face. "Way ahead of you, Mulder. I've already talked it over with the Gunmen and Byers is dying for an excuse to see Vicky. He was ready to shoot Frohike if he tried to come in his place. Hang on." Tucking the unit under her chin, she slid out of the hose. "OK - An amused rumble reached her. "Not just OK, Scully." She stomped her foot. "Mulder! Listen to me." The rumble stopped in a snort. "That's what I was *doing*, partner." She propped her hand on the sink. "All you need to do is drop by the American Embassy and ask for Vicky Nolan. She and Byers have already arranged the flight times, and she'll let you know. It was the only secure way to proceed." The grin sounded in his tone. "Great, and thanks. How was the move? Frohike said you were snowed in?" She sank onto the toilet lid. "Yes, but it gave me the chance to unpack. Langly has a thing for Skinner, by the way. Did you know - " "He was gay? Yeah. That's part of why Rosen didn't bother me. He's lost too many friends, Scully." "So have we, Mulder." A long pause. "Yeah. Well, I let you proceed in security yourself, all right?" She smiled again. "Thanks. Good to hear your voice, Mulder. Say hi to Mom and your folks for me when you return to Santorini." "I will. Bye." Scully ended the call, then, shaking her head, returned to her preparations for her bath. --o-0-o-- Cairo International Airport Cairo, Egypt Thursday, February 5, 1998 6:26 pm When the boarding door finally swung open, Mulder touched the arm of the statuesque brunette beside him. He waited for her quick nod. "I'll just be around the corner." "Thank you, Agent Mulder." Once his back was turned, he heard a squeal of delight escape her. Shaking his head, he carried the carton of Samantha's belongings, each item protected by double plastic evidence bags, to the row of seats across the walkway. When a noisy group of American passed by, he slumped down, slightly ashamed to be from the same country. Once they were well down the terminal, he checked his watch. Standing, he collected the box and began the trek back to Byers' gate. When he spotted a stout, balding American in a grey suit and black glasses using the phone, he froze. --o-0-o-- Back at the gate, Byers kissed his wife one last time. "We'd better go find Mulder. Given all the conspiracy theories that float around this country, he's no doubt gotten himself wrapped up in some debate about Diana's 'assassination'." Taking his hand, she nodded. "He's such a beanpole, John. Why doesn't he take better care of himself?" Byers chuckled. "Don't tell him. He's proud of that cinch waist of his." He waved. "Mulder!" The dark-haired agent waved the pair to his side. "Hey. Who does that look like?" He pointed at the telephone kiosk. Byers gasped. "That's Luther! What's he doing here?" Mulder was already tracking his way through the crowds when Byers finished, so he grasped his wife's hand firmly and took off after his friend. Trotting, Vicky hissed. "Who's Luther?" Byers whispered back. "One of Mulder's quarry on the Dark Side. I'll tell you about it when we catch up to him." The pair finally rejoined Mulder just as the Agent was within arm's reach of the Shadow. Mulder thrust the box into Byers' hands, then tackled the man. The crowd parted as they wrestled for grips on each other's wrists, Mulder, with his youth and height, slowly gaining the advantage. When a security guard arrived, shouting for order, Byers' whispered. "He's FBI, arresting a suspect fleeing from America." Nodding, the guard joined the melee, but his efforts distracted Mulder long enough for the bald man to break free. Ignoring the shouting agent, the guard whipped out his weapon and aimed it at the man's back. Mulder, in desperation, knocked the Glock to the ground. "No, don't. He's wearing a bullet-proof vest, so you wouldn't even slow him down and you might strike passers-by." The curly-haired man nodded. "My apologies. Shall we put out a warrant for him?" Mulder shook his head. "He has friends in high places. It's enough to know that he was here. I'll alert my people." Once the guard had disappeared, Byers handed Mulder the documentation. "Was he wearing a bullet-proof vest?" Mulder accepted the briefcase with a shrug. "Of course not. But not even here would they believe poisonous green blood, nor would they know how to treat anyone who was exposed." He shook his friend's hand. "Good to see you, man, but I have my own plane to catch." He nodded to Vicky, then melted into the crowds himself. His arm around his wife's waist, Byers waved once at the departing back, then turned to leave with Vicky. --o-0-o-- Puffing, Luther collapsed in the passenger seat of the black sedan. "You were right, Mulder still thinks I'm a shape-shifter." The driver lit a cigarette. "Good. His ignorance will only be to our advantage. Could you tell whom he and the woman from the State Department were meeting?" Luther gulped. "A bearded man in a grey suit. The State Department woman called him John." The old man nodded. "Byers, then. One of Mulder's three lunatic fringe friends. It will help reinforce Mulder's belief that you were a shape-shifter, since Byers last saw one using your form as well." Luther rubbed his face, his fingers pushing his glasses off his nose momentarily. "Forgive my ignorance, but why all this concern about who Mulder's friends are? Don't you already know this?" An arch of grey eyebrows. "Of course I do. I'm just trying to answer an old question in my mind." Luther strapped himself in. "About Bill Mulder?" The engine turned over. "Perhaps. Perhaps not." The balding man glanced at the driver sharply. "But Bill Mulder's dead. What could he possibly know that would harm you?" The old spy sighed. "My friend, you have so much to learn. Does the name Kovno mean anything to you, anything at all?" Luther shook his head. One set of yellow-tipped fingers gripped the wheel, while the other crushed a cigarette against the rest in an overflowing ashtray. "It was a ghetto in Poland to which the National Socialists deported many of the Jews of Austria, Germany, and Poland. While they were being exterminated, the residents were recording events and concealing photographs, names of executioners, names of Nazi collaborators, everything. Had the documents come to light at the end of the war, say, - " The bespectacled man nodded. "It would have been useful testimony at Nurenberg. I'm finally coming to understand why you speak in riddles so much of the time." The old man's face colored. "Not riddles, history. One remembers one's mistakes, so one never repeats them." The dark eyes flicked to his passenger. "In this business, one chance is all a player gets, even if he's very clever." Luther crossed his arms. "*Especially* if he's very clever." Since they were stopped for a clot of tourists, an orange light flared. "Indeed." --o-0-o-- Office of the Lone Gunmen Alexandria, Virginia Sunday, February 8, 1998 5:38 am Dana Scully tapped the enter key, initiating a call to the Mediterranean. After two rings, she heard a click. "Hey, it's me!" A rich baritone chuckle answered her. "Hello, Dana, this is Max. I bundled your difficult partner off to bed a couple of hours ago. Otherwise he would be sleeping here where he could keep an eye on Saunders' testimony." Scully sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that." "What, that he's being difficult, or that he isn't sleeping?" She leaned into the padded swivel back of the computer chair. "Both. This search for Sam is always a struggle for him." "Hum. And for Caroline as well. I'm coming to understand why they were so cold with each other when I first met her." Scully nodded, then held still, aware of the meaninglessness of the gesture. "Losing a daughter and a sister, especially like that, is hard." The next question startled her. "How are *you*, Dana? Are you getting enough rest? Are you eating regularly?" She frowned down at the speaker box. "I'm fine." "No. No, that won't do. I had to take care of Maudie while her leg was healing and Caroline with her burned arms. Now, my wife I could learn to read, but all I could ever deduce was to bring pain pills whenever I heard that phrase from your Mother." Scully arched both eyebrows. "A good night's sleep would be nice, Max, but I have too much to do. Pendrell's giving testimony for a trial in Pennsylvania all this week and next, so I couldn't ask for his help. Susan's running the DNA tests for me on the Samantha materials, but she sometimes needs technical assistance with the machines up at the Genome Lab in Hopkins Hospital." Max sighed. "So you drive to Baltimore and back what, once a week?" She shook her head. "I wish it were that infrequent. Try four nights a week. Will you stop worrying if I promise to come snooze in the sun at your place in Santorini after the trial finishes?" "Only if you keep your word, Dana. Killing yourself like this won't help Mulder or you." She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "We'll see, Max. That's all I can promise." She propped both elbows on the table. "Look, I need Mulder and Caroline to do something for me." She smiled at the new voice emanating from the speaker. "Hey, Scully, thought you'd sneak around behind my back?" "Hey. Sounds like the radar's working just fine." She heard a creak that must have been Max relinquishing the seat to Mulder. "Thanks, Max." "Certainly, Dana." After a moment, a click of the doorlatch told her they were alone. "Mulder, I need your DNA." Her lips twitched as she waited for the inevitable riposte. "Ooh, I should make you come out here and beg for it, Doctor." She smirked. "On my knees, I suppose." "That'd be a start." He sobered. "I'll see if the local police have a sampling kit I can Fed-Ex you. You want to compare mine and my Mom's against whatever you've pulled off Sam's clothes?" "Exactly. Hiram has sent me some bone fragments from the Silverbergs so we can determine whether they touched the books or shoes." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I don't know how to get them from the Morley Man. Skinner doesn't keep an ashtray and the room where he used to hide out and listen covertly has been sanitized." Mulder grunted. "It wasn't the Morley man who rescued her, Scully." She frowned. "But your Father never - " "It was Deep Throat." She bit her lower lip momentarily. "Oh. So he goes back that far with your family. Well, we have some surveillance photos of him here at the Gunmen's. They'll come in handy when I find the time to interview with adoption agencies." "Yeah. Scully?" "Hum?" "You aren't taking care of yourself, are you?" She attempted to waylay him with a jibe. "No, I leave that job to Frohike." "Don't." Propping her head up with her fist, she grunted. "Don't start in on me, Mulder. I promise to get some rest, soon. I'll see if Stone cares whether I nap occasionally in the defense conference room, OK?" "Not OK, Scully. Take the rest of the day off. You need it." She sighed. "Mulder, I promise I'll kick back with the Sunday Post and some mulled cider this morning. But Susan has time on the machines this afternoon, so I'll be up there. Mail the kit to the Gunmen when you have the samples." "Right. Just relax a little, or I'll have to come back and make you." Her hand hovered over the keyboard. "Talk to you soon, Mulder, all right?" "Yeah. Bye." "He's right, you know, Doc." She spun. "Langly, how long have you been behind me?" The blond Gunman waved one hand. "Just for a couple of minutes. Let me get that mulled cider started. I'm sure the rest of the guys would enjoy some, too." He took her arm. "Come on. You'll relax if it kills you." Rolling her eyes in mock protest, she rose and followed him. --o-0-o-- Lowenberg Residence Santorini, Greece Wednesday, February 18, 1998 1:32 am The shout from Mulder's bedroom sent a shiver down Caroline's spine. Max slid his arm under her head. "Caroline, dear, this is killing you. Go hold your son. He needs you." She clutched his ribs. "What do I say, Max? What do I do?" After sliding back the covers, he began easing her carefully off the mattress. "Just hold him. Tell him you love him." Her eyes wide, she nodded mutely while he slid her iridescent blue silk robe over her shoulders. Leaning around from behind her, he bussed her cheek. "Go." The cries from the distant bedroom tore at him as well. His stepson had experienced these abduction nightmares for several nights running, but each morning, despite the heavy lines on his face, had refused to discuss it with him. "Max?" Caroline was by the door. "I'm sorry for all this. I should have been a better mother to him." Grasping her elbow firmly, he guided her into the hall. "Just go. Remember, I love you." She nodded at his quick smile, then, with leaden feet, padded down the hall, one hand on the wall for support. Margaret Scully had been watching from her doorway. "Thank you, Max." The whisper was meant for his ears only. His bare soles felt the rough wool of the hall runner as he stood by the dark-haired woman. "They are both such sensitive people." Her arms crossed, Margaret's eyes were fixed on the older woman's back, willing her to take those final steps. "I know." She glanced up at the white-haired man. "Fox was there for Dana when she began remembering. How did he go through this alone for so many years?" Max sighed. "How did she?" Shifting behind Margaret, he leaned against the wall. "We were both so fortunate, Maudie. I had Thea to help me through these terrors," he nodded at her glance of realization, "then there was my work, where I was able to make real progress, to actually place manuscripts and family portraits in the hands of survivors. All Fox has known, except for the past year or so, was loss and failure." She smiled at Max's chosen abbreviation of her name. "I know. It was hard enough to lose Bill, but at least we had all those years together. Then sweet-faced Mel, but she and I had reconciled." She waved at Caroline, who had glanced back to both of them for support when they heard another cry. "But this, this is beyond me. To lose your family, to be homeless, that marriage, then to lose a daughter." Her hand on the doorknob, Caroline had frozen in place. "I can't." Max called softly. "You must." From within the room, they heard Mulder sobbing in his sleep, begging for answers. "Mom? Dad? Where are you? Where's Sam? Mom? Dad? Where is everyone?" Caroline jumped away from the door as if she had been shocked. "No! I can't!" Margaret clenched her fists. "Enough." She brushed past the rigid white-haired woman, closing the door behind her. His undershirt darkened with sweat, Mulder was huddled in a corner, but looked around wildly when he heard the door open. "Scully?" Margaret knelt beside him. "One Scully, yes, Fox." He shrank back from her touch. "You heard me? Did they hear, too?" Margaret shifted to pin him between her and a dresser. "Of course, dear. It's OK, we understand." She grasped both his elbows, tightly pressed against his ribs. "Let us help you." His head moved feverishly from side to side. "No. I have to find Sam. Then everything will be OK. Mom won't hate me." The dark-haired woman twisted so she was sitting cross-legged before him. "Is that what you think, Fox, that she hates you?" He shrank against the cherry-stained walnut side. "No. She just doesn't love me." Margaret gasped. "Fox! Of course she loves you! This just terrifies her. She was outside your door just now, petrified." Mulder stared at Margaret. "Mom was out there?" He used the dresser to pull himself to his feet. "She was afraid?" He looked down at Margaret. "Of me?" Margaret shook her head. "Never of you. Just of what losing Sam did to you." When Mulder began pacing the room like an angry caged tiger, she found herself stumbling as she struggled to keep his face in view. "She doesn't know what to do to help. Don't you hate her, Fox." He froze. "She thinks I hate her?" He rushed to the door, yanking it aside to find Caroline huddled in her husband's arms. "Mom?" She pulled away from Max, pinning herself against the wall. Mulder took a step towards her. "Mom?" He found himself stammering. "Don't. Please. It wasn't your fault." She shook her head. "Then whose was it? I should have known better, Fox. I shouldn't have ever left you two alone." Mulder shrugged. "You couldn't keep a vigil constantly, Mom. I should have been stronger. I should have called the police, done something besides cower. You trusted me and I let you down." Caroline covered her mouth with her hand. "No, Fox, never say that! Never!" She ran back into her room, slamming the door behind her. Mulder stared after her. "It's not her fault. It's mine." He sagged against the wall. "It was always mine." Max grasped his shoulder. "It wasn't yours either, Mulder. One day you will understand that. Excuse me." Mulder nodded. "Take care of Mom." He turned to walk past Margaret. "I need to check for Scully's latest message. Maybe the DNA analysis is finished." Margaret found herself alone in the hallway, watching while Max stepped into the bedroom, then spinning to catch a glimpse of Mulder just before he disappeared around the corner into the study. --o-0-o-- Apartment 5 Alexandria, Virginia Tuesday, February 17, 1998 8:47 pm Dana Scully dropped her keys on her bed, stepping out of her shoes as she tapped the shift key to activate her screen. The icon of a silver mailbox had turned blue, and there was a yellow letter stuck into the little image. Settling behind the desk in her bedroom, she clicked on the square and smiled at the sender: George Hale. Scully: Is the DNA work done yet? Call me the minute it is, Mulder Scully frowned at the spare words on the screen. Usually her messages from her partner were voluminous, full of his latest suggestions to pass to the Gunmen for her. Padding to the living room to retrieve her portable phone, she pressed the fourth autodial button as she settled under her down comforter. One ring. "Mulder." It was that sleepy, syrupy voice she recognized as just this side of furious. She was pulling a report from her briefcase when she spoke. "Mulder, it's me." "Hey, me. What does me have?" His tone was marginally more relaxed. She flipped through several pages before she responded. "Well, not the DNA analysis, but the latest from the adoption agencies." She tapped the paper as she talked. "There were several girls matching Sarah's age and description put up for adoption over those five years. I'll be forwarding this list to the Gunmen for them to follow up on, but I thought you might want to know." She could hear him fidgeting. "Any in San Diego?" She peered at the lines of text. "Hum, yes, three, all without given names in the records. I'll tell them to concentrate on those, but I want to check them all out carefully." "Scully! The report we followed up on back in February talked about the subjects being programmed to return to a given location, usually on the far side of the country from where they were originally taken. Sam, as an adult would likely..." She rubbed her eyes. "Mulder, I agree with you. As an adult, that's where she probably is. But, when she was adopted, she would have been raised wherever her adoptive parents lived. I'd prefer to follow this line of inquiry through the agencies first. Skinner can't commit any official resources to the case, so we can't begin interviewing every woman of the right age in San Diego to see if they were adopted." There was an explosion of air. "Yeah, you're right, Scully. We're just so close. Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this on the phone, you know?" Scully caught the winsomeness in his voice. "Oh. Well, then I should let you go." "No, tell me about the trial." She frowned. "There isn't much to tell. I've never known there could be such legal wrangling over a once-tried case. How was your day?" "Oh. It was OK." From his tone, she could imagine him folding in on himself. "Mulder? What's wrong?" She heard the chair he was using creak several times. "Remember that nice little speech about how Mothers are supposed to love you no matter what? Well, I think you gave it to the wrong person, Scully." She cradled the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she slipped the report back in her case. "What happened? Tell me." He spoke in the hushed, closed-in tones he used when he was confessing something to her. "I've been having those dreams. About you. Or Sam. Sometimes I can't tell which one of you is being taken. It scared my Mom, and probably everyone else, too." "Oh, Mulder. I'm so sorry." "I knew it was only a matter of time before I did. I just hoped," there was a pause, "I just wanted things to be different, that's all. I shouldn't have bothered you with it." Suppressing a yawn, she straightened immediately. "No, that's OK. Please, call whenever, Mulder, I don't care about the time." "Oh, yeah, the time. Sculleee?" She frowned at the pleading tone. "What is it, Mulder?" "Do you, um, are you," he gulped a couple of times, then mumbled a torrent of anguish, "do you need my help with the trials? I could really come back now if you needed the help, and," he stammered a few more words she didn't fully understand. Scully knew what her partner wanted her to say, but she also refused to give him anything but the truth. "Mulder, I'd love to have your help with the caseload, but your Mother and Max and my Mom don't have anyone to protect them out there. I'm sorry about the nightmares, really." She bit her lower lip momentarily, then dropped her voice into a whisper. "I know how much they hurt." "Yeah. If anyone does, it's you." "Mulder?" A sigh. "I'll be all right, Scully. Thanks. Get some sleep, OK?" She lifted one corner of her mouth. "You try to, as well." --o-0-o-- Office of the Lone Gunmen Alexandria, Virginia Saturday, March 14, 1998 9:23 am When he pulled the door aside to admit her, Langly greeted Scully with his toothiest grin. "Hey, Doc, got a mystery for ya!" She rolled her eyes. "Another one?" Frohike emerged from the computer room carrying a stack of satellite images. "Lights over the desert, dearest Dana, how's that?" Taking some of the thick pages from him, she flipped through them. "Where did you get these?" Byers emerged from the kitchen, steaming mug in hand. "Here." While she sipped, he took a seat beside her on the couch. "The Defense Meteorological Satellite Program hits the equatorial areas of Africa every day with the satellites they have working." She cocked her head. "These are multi-frequency microwave images?" From the couch on the far wall, Langly called out an affirmative. "Yes. I'm sure Agent Rosen has reminded you that microwaves are produced anytime molecular bonds are broken." Scully cocked her head. "As in a forest fire, atomic explosions, engine exhaust, lightning. In short, anytime anything is heated." She regarded the images carefully. "Are you certain this isn't just hot ground? This is the equator, after all." Frohike shrugged. "That should repeat from day to day, but it doesn't." Byers rubbed his beard. "One of the hopes of this satellite program was that it would permit detection of the engines of ICBMs, but they move too quickly for anything outside of continuous coverage." She tapped one of the images. "You're about to tell me that these correlate with some of the pentagonal areas we located earlier, aren't you?" Byers waggled his hand. "Sort of. There may be one at the north end of Zaire. It's difficult to pick it out in that terrain." Scully tucked one ankle up under her hip. "So, how do we put together strange lights in the sky with possible research into human origins by the Consortium?" She sent mock-glares to all three men. "And don't say - " Langly shrugged. "UFO monitoring." Frohike snorted. "She told you not to say that." He focused back on Scully. "You don't look upset, Dana." She spread the images across the coffee table. "Oh, not UFO's, but the shape-shifters would definitely be interested. I'm glad you showed these to me first, *before* you sent them to my partner." She waggled one sheet. "This will be good ammunition for rounds and rounds of E-mails. By the way, did Mulder ever tell you about our encounter with the shape-shifters in Pittsburgh?" The three leaned a little closer. She arched one auburn brow. "I suppose not. Well..." --o-0-o-- Center for Inherited Disease Research The Johns Hopkins Hospital Baltimore, Maryland Sunday, March 15, 1998 7:34 am Dana Scully smiled at the medical students working quietly as she entered the half-empty lab. Since the facility was new, the interior was occupied mostly by the DNA analysis machines, a few lab benches and stools, and a filing cabinet or two. One, a tiny blonde girl, waved her over. "Doctor Scully!" Rubbing her face, the auburn-haired agent joined the huddled group. "Yes? Where's Susan?" The medical student pushed her glasses back up her nose. "Oh, she's had some bad news, so she won't be working here today. She said to let you know that she'll be in her office when you arrive." "Thanks. Don't stop studying on my account." Frowning, Scully trotted out of the lab and to the elevators. --o-0-o-- "Sue?" The shapely blonde, looking relaxed in her jeans and thick wool sweater, waved her in. "Hi, Dana." Scully stacked her load of documents and notes on the desk in front of her, then slid into a square-legged chair. "What's your bad news?" Susan Miles stood, walked around the desk, and half-sat on the front of it. "My NIH grants were terminated as of the first of April, Dana. I'm going to have to scramble to come up with the money to cover my salary and my student's stipends." Scully straightened. "Did they say why?" Susan reached for an official-looking letter, her eyes dropping to a block of lines in bold type. "While your research is of great practical significance, your work on tropical plant drugs is no longer sufficiently state of the art to justify this institution's continued sponsorship. We respectfully suggest you consider affiliating yourself with a major commercial manufacturer if you wish to pursue this work further." She balled the piece of paper up and tossed it at a framed print of one of Georgia O'Keefe's flowers. "I can't go work for private industry, Dana, you know that." Scully reached over and grasped her wrist in sympathy. "So, have you thought about what to do?" Susan dropped into the tall chair behind her desk. "Would I have thought of anything else?" After pushing her pen around idly, she raised her blue eyes to Scully's. "There is one thing I have that is 'state of the art', if you'd agree to let me use it." The agent tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "The Archaeon? With the new initiative on Life in Extreme Conditions, it would be a natural avenue to pursue." Susan sighed. "Yes, I didn't know if you'd mind or not." Scully arched both eyebrows. "Mind? After all you've done for us? Susan, there's no question that you can use it." The blonde doctor smiled for the first time. "Good. You'll be interested to know that while it has some of the same genes as Methanococcus jannaschii, it's significantly different, too." She sobered. "I have some bad news for you on another front..." Scully sighed. "What, the dress had been handled by so many people that you couldn't get anything off it?" "Unfortunately, yes. Clothing can be tricky like that. I hope your friend Pendrell is having more luck with the shoes." Scully shook her head. "Only one shoe. The Gunmen have secreted the other shoe and the book. Pendrell said he had pulled a few cells from the inside lining. He was working late today so I could stop by when I was finished here." Susan smiled. "Then you'll have the chance to work a little closer to home on at least one Sunday." Reaching into the bottom drawer of her desk, she removed the dress, encased by the plastic evidence bag Scully had brought it to her in. "I take it you won't need the DNA From Mulder and his Mom back." Smoothing the plastic over her lap, Scully nodded. "I won't. Pendrell has his own samples and we have the rest tucked away." Susan rose. "Then I won't keep you any longer." As they walked into her outer office, Scully looked up at her friend. "Sue, if there's anything I can do to help, just give me a buzz." Stopping by a stack of boxes, the physician bent. "Thanks. These are your reprints, if you want them." Scully shifted the stack of reference material she had brought with her. "I'll take one now, and have the rest mailed to my apartment. Obviously, I can't get them all." Susan wedged one box under Scully's chin, then shook her head. "I can at least walk you to your car, Dana, so you don't have to worry with all that." Shifting some of her burdens to her friend's outstretched hands, Scully smiled. --o-0-o-- DNA Lab J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC Sunday, 8:21 pm From his lab stool opposite hers, Arthur Pendrell checked his friend, her auburn hair falling free around her face. "What is it, Dana?" She looked over at him. "Hum?" Pendrell walked around the lab bench to her side. "You've been frowning. Is there something wrong with the test?" She caught the waving strands back up in her elastic band. "No. I'm just tired." She attempted a tiny, uneven grin. "I'll be fine. We have work to do." Bending over her, Pendrell rested one hand on the lab bench. "Yes, and you've been doing it since before Terry and I got here at ten. How far along are you?" Scully set a vial of clear liquid in a rack with forty others. "I think I've duplicated those cells you had properly. Mulder has always implied Sam was such a little lady she never went without her socks. I'm surprised you were able to find anything at all." Moving until he was behind her, Pendrell grinned. "I take it your Mom had trouble with you?" Scully crossed her arms. "Tomboys don't make good little ladies, Arthur." He chuckled. "I wouldn't know about that." A creak of the lab door had him shifting away from her. "Hey, Sweetheart, what do you have?" Terry Phillips, rubbing her left eye where the contact had irritated it, crossed to meet him in the center of the lab. "Here are the MtDNA patterns from Caroline and Mulder." She gripped the Mylar sheet in her hand more tightly. "I was wondering how the work on the shoe was coming." Beaming, Pendrell tucked her under his arm. "Scully's finished the replication phase. We can test for any chromosomal similarities now." Scully watched the pair as they talked. Pendrell's blue eyes had taken on an intensity he had never exhibited when focused on her, devolving into fear and uncertainty instead. Deep inside her, the auburn-haired woman felt a twinge of regret, then resolved to leave them to their happiness. "How long will that take?" Pendrell looked up. "Hum?" He stepped away from Phillips. "Oh, since we can only work on it after hours, a couple of days. Now that you won't have to run up to Baltimore once court finishes every session, it will go faster. You *will* be helping us, right?" Scully nodded. "Of course." Pendrell has returned to the diminutive agent's side now. "This is about all we can do on the testing tonight. Want to share an Armand's with us?" The quick glare Phillips shot the back of Pendrell's curls had Scully shaking her head. "No, a soak and my own bed are all I want right now, thanks." She caught the slight smile that Phillips covered with her hand. Oblivious, Pendrell nodded. "See you tomorrow, then." --o-0-o-- Capitol Hill Rowhouse Washington, DC Wednesday, March 18, 1998 7:21 pm Lindhauer closed the door behind 'Ace' and 'Charlie'. Glancing at McConnell for support, he took a deep breath. "It's been too long since we were all together like this." As she settled on Lindhauer's sofa, 'Ace' nodded. "I know. I'm sorry about my harsh words earlier. The work is all that's important." McConnell pushed his red curls off his forehead. "It doesn't matter now. We're working together again, which is what counts. Now, there's this business with Mulder and his sister - " He turned to Lindhauer. The blond man glared down his long nose at his red-haired associate, then faced 'Ace' and 'Charlie'. "Should we let Mulder find her?" 'Ace' shrugged. "If he does, there will be a certain period of time when he'll be attempting to reconnect with her." 'Charlie' leaned towards his lover. "And you expect he'll be less interested in keeping tabs on our efforts?" She nodded. "Of course. Besides, if she begins to remember what happened to her, it will only be what they already know. With all the old routes and facilities shut down, they'll be chasing a closed chapter in our history as an organization." All four looked to the front door at three sharp raps. Lindhauer checked out the peephole. "It's Black Lung." 'Charlie' stood, blocking 'Ace' from the entrance. "What does he want?" His head cocked, Lindhauer threw back the deadbolt, then was shoved aside when the door flew off its hinges. The Smoking Man marched in, three others in black behind him, Luther filing in last. At the sight of the balding man, McConnell began scrambling for a gun. "You brought a shape-shifter in here? Why?" The old man snorted. "What makes you think he's an alien?" He pointed the cigarette at the bespectacled man. "Luther, show them." Retrieving a pocketknife, Luther slit his finger, the dark blood dripping into the white fibers of the carpet. "I'm as human as any of you are." 'Charlie' helped Lindhauer back to his feet. "So, why are you here?" A snort. "I thought we all worked for the same goal, at least at one time." Still slightly wobbly, Lindhauer crossed his arms. "You don't work for anyone. You're a rogue." The three men in dark suits pointed silencer-equipped Glocks at the pair on the couch. The old spy shook his head. "I don't think that's how they see it." He stepped up to Lindhauer. "You should be familiar with what's happening here. You've been through it before, only from the other end." The ice-blue eyes narrowed. "You think you're taking over, don't you?" A thick stream of smoke hovered in front of the wrinkled face. "My. You still *can* reason from observation. Good. If you had been keeping track of your organization, you would have noticed its numbers dwindling slowly." He taped the ash onto the carpet. "One thing I can say for you, you have come up with some fresh sources of money." He bowed to 'Ace'. "Thank you, most gracious Amanda. But this business with the trials has gone too far. One in distant Pittsburgh the Organization could deal with. But here in Washington, DC? You give too much hope to our enemies." McConnell crossed his arms. "So, what would you do?" Several long drags before he replied. "It isn't what I'm going to do, it's what *you're* going to do that matters now. What do you intend to do about this second trial?" 'Charlie' rose. "We have a plan." A snort. "Odd. That's what my old colleagues in New York were saying before you oh-so-politely blew them to the stars or ran them down like rabid animals." Dropping the spent butt into the plush pile, he tamped it out by grinding on it with his heel. "Whichever of you eliminated my old superior with all his mannerisms and affectations has my sincere gratitude." Lindhauer's grin was sinister. "It gave me a great deal of pleasure to finish him off. I was tired of bringing him tea and crumpets." A sigh. "I'm saddened to hear that from one so young. Killing is a serious business. It should never be undertaken with pleasure, only with a grim sense of necessity." The blond man bent over the Smoker. "Oh? It wasn't a pleasure for you to order the killing of the man who had stolen your one true love?" The dark eyes cooled into glaciers. "It most certainly was not. Bill Mulder was an old and dear friend, who had stepped out of the game before he became a danger to himself and others." Now 'Ace' rose. "You always taught us there should be no entanglements when we enter this sphere." The old man ran his fingertips along her jaw. "A lesson you chose to ignore, my dear." He dropped his hand in his suit pocket. "Very well. I'll give you all a second chance. Do what you must to stop these trials, then we'll talk. If you succeed, there are places for you all in my plans. If not, we will have to explore other options." A shrug, then the four behind him began filing out. "Good evening." Lindhauer turned to 'Charlie'. "What did you have in mind for the trial?" The heavy-set man dropped his hand to 'Ace''s back. "You'll see. We should go. You have a door to repair before the local thieves relieve you of your stereo." After the pair had departed, McConnell dropped his hand to Lindhauer's shoulder. "I'll stay and help you board the door up. You can still use the basement to come and go, right?" Lindhauer nodded. "Thanks." --o-0-o-- Apartment 5 Alexandria, Virginia Thursday, March 19, 1998 9:27 pm Dana Scully reviewed the letter she had just typed into her word processor, wondering whether to keep it, delete it, or E-mail it to her partner. Mulder seemed absurdly happy every time she sent him one of these little stream of consciousness notes, despite their spelling errors and awkward phrasing. "Mulder, I have to tell you, you were certainly right, back after Tooms. Trials are a real bear. Sorry, that was just before Phoebe. Sorry again. I seem to be able to do nothing but dredge up bad memories of old cases. This prosecution team isn't nearly as good as Pollack and his crew, which is a little sad because it is a double First Degree Murder case. Since the Prosecution failed to convict before, it seems odd that they would up the ante so, just for Tyrell Saunders. (It seems strange that your contact has a name, after all these times of using X for him.) But regardless, I'm not looking forward to having to give my testimony all over again when Stone begins the case for the defense in a couple of weeks. You, for some reason, are such a terror that the prosecutors made a motion, before even beginning testimony, to 'accept the witness' statements' from the Pittsburgh trial without cross-examination. Stone protested loud and long (and you know how dramatically he can draw something like this out) that it was a violation of Saunders' constitutional right to a fair trial not to be able to cross-examine all the witnesses called against him. Knowing our luck, the appeals court will agree with him, and we'll be here all over again. It's been, what, eight weeks now? I don't know if you've noticed this, but we've fallen back into the habits we followed after the X-Files were shut down the first time, after Deep Throat was killed. Our messages are so much more interesting than anything else going on. I find I'm racing home from the Courthouse at lunchtime to see if you're sending me any new evidence you want me to analyze. Sorry, didn't mean to bring up more bad memories. Just to let you know. Susan's up to her eyeballs with funding reviews (real people who live from grant to grant have to worry about such trivia, you know), so she won't be able to help us for a while. You've run the Gunmen ragged with the geographical searches. Danny will only talk to you. So, I've had Pendrell (yes, my own pet lab-mouse, as you *so* like to call him) run the DNA that was taken from one of the shoes you and your Mom were given. They (Pendrell and Phillips, who are now a *very* happy couple) managed to pull a few cells from it, even to get a reasonable mitochondrial sample. Comparing it to yours and your Mom's, well, the cells belong to a daughter of hers and a sister of yours. So, it looks like you're (do I dare say we're?) really on the right track this time. I don't think I need to write this, but I so hope this pans out. You and your Mom deserve to get her back, after all you've both been through. I've read over what I've just written. Don't take that the wrong way, Mulder, I wish she had never been taken, I'm not saying that you needed to suffer to get her back. About that trial. It's good you're not there. You'd be going out of your mind with boredom. Oh. That makes it sound like I don't want you here. I do, want you here, that is, just not in the courtroom. I miss our lunches together. Although some of those doodles of yours, the non-X-rated ones (yes, I saw those, too) were getting pretty interesting. Artistic even. Sorry, it's late. I'm more tired than I ever thought I could be, and I'm rambling. More tomorrow. Say hi to Mom, Caroline, and Max for me. I hope this is over soon. Scully She chewed her lower lip. She clicked on the enrypt button, then, when the little knot icon stopped spinning, moved the pointer to the button with the bolt of lightening. --o-0-o-- End - Zurvan - A Visit with Zeus-Ammon