The Price of a Soul (3/3)Subject: The Price of a Soul (3/3) Date: Sat, 3 Apr 1999 Title: The Price of a Soul 07/09 Author: Daydreamer Author E-mail: Daydream59@aol.com Rating: NC-17 for graphic violence and language Category: SAH Spoilers: None Keywords: M/Sc/Sk friendship; est MSR; Archive: Yes, please. Feedback: Yes! Please! Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and Skinner are owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Television Network, etc. They are wonderfully brought to life by David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and Mitch Pileggi. I will make no profit from this, and neither will Fox if they sue me, for I am exceedingly poor and have nothing material they can profit from. Comments: Check out my web page, Daydreamer's Den, brought to you by the talented Shirley Smiley, WebMistress Extraordinaire! http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dunes/2113/ While you're there, take a minute to sign the guest book, and drop a note to Shirley. Tell her how great she is! Thanks: I have been remiss in not thanking my beta readers of late. It is not that I don't appreciate them, I do, but I sometimes struggle to find adequate ways to express exactly how valuable they are. I am blessed to have received some wonderfully flattering feedback on my stories. Comments that range from praise of my characterizations to enjoyment of my detail work. But invariably, I also hear from at least one person who remarks that my stories are *easy* to read. That they are clear, and clean, and well-punctuated, with appropriate grammar usage and proper spelling and good continuity. These are things I value as a reader, and I know how easy it is to be distracted by a misplaced comma, an incorrectly used homonym, a misspelled word, or incorrect verb tense. If you appreciate good *style,* as I do, then join me in thanking Vickie, Susan, Dee, Sonal, Judie, and Michelle. It is their hard work and effort that keeps my stories clean. Summary: Mulder, Scully, and Skinner go to visit the children and their adoptive parents only to find tragedy has struck and the children are missing. Third story in the "Retrieval" universe. Follows "Retrieval" and "What Cost, Friendship." The Price of a Soul 07/09 "Get up!" The voice was harsh, insistent, full of barely controlled violence. Scully lay still a moment longer, willing herself to appear unconscious, but there was a sudden sharp jab in her leg, and she jumped, a small gasp escaping. She opened her eyes, and sat up wearily, all hopes of pretense and surprise erased. "I said, get up!" Scully rose slowly, eyes never leaving the man's face. He was big -- six four or better, and easily weighed 240, none of it fat. And he looked mean. Scully stared at him and confirmed to herself -- he was *big!* The tight T-shirt he wore revealed wide shoulders and bulging biceps, muscles rippling across his chest and abdomen. His bare arms had the definition of someone who worked out with weights. A lot. Despite her earlier self-confidence, Scully felt threatened, increasingly uneasy about being alone with him in this isolated room. She glanced toward the door, closed but still unlocked. Her only exit. She moved to the side, a tiny half-step, and watched as the man smirked as he tracked her movement. He took a step forward, asking in an oily tone, "Where do you think you are going?" "I'm not ..." Scully paused, struggling for control. Focus, she ordered herself. Don't let all those bumps and bruises Skinner suffered be for nothing. She moved again toward the door, always facing the man, letting his amusement at her fuel her fury -- and her strength. The man took a step toward her, and Scully suddenly had a vision of the Academy. Her instructor. An enormous man, built like a linebacker, at least six four. He'd told her to attack, planning to use her as an example for the rest of the "girls" in the class. Let no one imply that sexism was dead. She stormed him in a rage, his verbal taunts and humiliations more than she could tolerate, and he'd simply picked her up, one hand holding her completely off the floor with no more effort than a mother cat expended to hustle a straying kitten back to the nest. The memory of his laughter as she hung helpless from his hand, arms and legs flailing to no avail, caused her to flush again now. 'You think you can be a useful agent, little girl?' he had sneered. Then looking up, he'd sighted the men surrounding the gym floor. The two other women were staring at their feet, but the men, the men had watched, fascinated. 'Who wants this little lady watching their back?' The man before her took a step, moving so close to her she could feel his heat and smell the sweat that oozed from his pores. She sidled away, still inching toward the door, still aiming for freedom. The man lunged, and Scully recoiled, his pungent odor startling her as much as his sudden move. He laughed at her reaction, and she bit down on the fear. Focus, Dana, focus. The instructor had continued to taunt her, and she had continued to flail, head whipping wildly about until one of the men caught her eye. She stared at him for a moment, and saw him visibly relax, then stiffen. Taking a cue, she had relaxed into dead weight, surprising the instructor and then kicking him in the softest spot she could find, grunting in satisfaction as he released her and went to his knees. She'd done the same with Skinner, practicing over and over until she felt the confidence, the security that had been taken from her on the island return. Focus, Dana, focus, she reminded herself. She looked at the man before her, still smirking at her, still so self-assured in his size and strength. She moved again for the door, then lunged and he caught her, lifting her as her instructor had done all those years ago, as her friend had done so many times not so many months ago. 'You want to be a fighter, Dana?' Skinner had screamed at her. 'You want to win? Then don't struggle. Use your advantage. Stop, drop, and kick the shit out of me!' And she had. And she did. As she had practiced so many times that it was practically second nature, Scully relaxed into dead weight, waited for the man's surprised shift as his balance was threatened, then slammed her knee into that vulnerable soft spot on his body. He dropped her and fell to his knees. She kicked again, then again, and again, not stopping for the groans, or the blood, his protests falling on deaf ears. And when she finally stopped kicking, the man lay still and unmoving at her feet. Laugh at that, asshole, she thought, as she turned and made her way out the door. ******************************************** "I don't like this, Mulder," Skinner said, as he looked at the empty and decrepit warehouses around them. "I'm not going to let us walk into this with him holding all the cards." He reached over and touched Mulder's arm. "Stop the car." Mulder did as directed, then looked over at the AD. "What?" "You go on alone. Meet our contact. Be very careful." "Where are you going to be?" Skinner smiled, but there was nothing warm or encouraging in it. "I'll be around, don't you worry. You just watch out for yourself." Skinner was fiddling with his weapon, checking the chamber in the gun, and as Mulder looked on, a knife appeared in the man's hand. He tested the edge, then grunted in satisfaction. Where the hell had that come from? Skinner looked up and spoke again, "We're running silent on this." He tapped Mulder's pocket. "Don't forget to turn your cell phone off." Mulder nodded and watched as Skinner almost rolled from the car and seemingly vanished before his eyes. It was uncanny how the man could do that. And what the hell had suddenly made him so damn nervous? Mulder put the car in 'drive' and moved on slowly, scanning for the correct number. Finally spotting it, he stopped again, then took several minutes to survey the area. Deserted, decaying, the warehouses lined a narrow alleyway. Once a vital part of the city's rail transportation, it was a long abandoned area, prime for stray cats, rabid dogs, drug addicts and their suppliers. Homeless people, drunk, drugged, or just mentally ill, shuffled in and out of the buildings, lay in doorways or sat unmoving on piles of rotted packing. He shivered once, then checked his gun surreptitiously. His belly was much better, causing him almost no pain at all when he moved, but his shoulder was still exceedingly tender. He used his left arm and hand as little as possible, but still refused to wear a sling, refused to be that restricted. Besides, the one time he had put the sling on, Jess had gotten very distressed, and he had removed it almost at once. He smiled as he thought of the children. Despite the questions surrounding their origins, he considered them to be an incredible gift. He would never have had children. He just didn't trust himself enough to knowingly bring another life into the world. To willingly take on the responsibility of that life. He knew all too well how easy it was to fail in that responsibility. And even though Scully was supposedly infertile now, they had always used precautions. Just in case. Neither one of them was willing to risk having a child who would become the focus of someone else's attention. They couldn't chance putting a child through that. Not with their history. Mulder was out of the car now, eyes scanning the alley, walking slowly but steadily toward the battered door of number 84. A man approached and he tensed, but the man only asked for change and Mulder passed over the contents of his pocket. Little enough, but he could reach it with his left hand, and he wasn't going to put his right hand out of commission, not even for a moment. Scully. He was here for Scully. But now Scully and the children were inextricably mixed in his mind. He could no more abandon Steven and Jessie than he could ever leave Scully. They hadn't wanted children, hadn't planned on children, didn't include children in the few hesitant, tentative discussions they had had about their future. A future that was itself tentative, uncertain, unstable. For people like them, what good was planning for a future if you couldn't even be sure of tomorrow? But that would have to change now. There would have to be so many changes. Not just potty chairs and sippy cups, but lifestyle changes, and career changes. The children had to have security, they had to be safe. God, he could only hope Scully would be as willing to accept these children of his, as he would have been to accept her Emily. He reached the door and pushed, stepping back and to the side as it creaked open. He pulled his gun, then whipped around the door jamb, eyes raking the dimly lit interior. Tall, dirt-covered windows, many broken or cracked, let in weak sunlight, giving the place an almost other-worldly appearance. The air hung heavy in his nose, dust motes dancing in the streams of light, and a smell of decay and disuse teased his senses. He stood unmoving, the hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck prickling, standing upright as he watched for any sign of movement. He missed Scully. It was all so different when you had someone you trusted watching your back. There was a movement to his left and Mulder whirled, gun pointing straight at a feral cat, who arched her back and hissed before darting through a hole in the wallboard. Mulder smiled then. That cat wasn't the only one to move with feline grace and speed. He looked around again, looking up at a spiderweb of iron walkways that crossed and recrossed going up four stories. Where the hell was Skinner? He shrugged. The man said he'd be here; he was here. Mulder moved on into the building, the light from the windows fading as he went further back. Empty packing crates and fifty-five gallon drums, huge cardboard boxes and stacks of wooden pallets littered the floor of the warehouse and he threaded his way carefully through the maze. There was still no sign of anyone else. Mulder found a spot, as well-lit as he was likely to find, back to the wall, but with good forward and side visibility, and he prepared to wait. ********************************************* Skinner moved noiselessly to stand behind the man. A brief, silent communion with himself -- he kept vowing not to kill again and still he continued to take lives -- then he reached out and in one swift motion, broke the man's neck, lowering him slowly to the iron catwalk. It was the fourth man he'd taken out. And he still hadn't seen Mulder. What the hell was taking the man so long? Skinner took a moment to disguise the body from view, then scanned again, looking for the next target. How many of them were there? The guard on the building, the guard inside. The two he'd found on the catwalk. His intuition had been right. This was no meeting to exchange information on Scully. This was a set-up. He wanted to call and check on the children, prayed this hadn't been a ploy to draw them away and leave Steven and Jess vulnerable. He shook his head. They would be fine. Mulder's apartment and the building were crawling with agents and local police. No one was getting in there. There was a flash of movement above him, and he pulled further back into the shadows, then risked a quick glance upwards. Another one. Skinner had already acquired two automatic weapons, one cradled in his arms, one slung on his back, ammunition, three more handguns, and two knives as he worked his way through the building. At this rate, he was going to have to start leaving the hardware behind. There was movement below him now, and he looked down. Mulder. Finally. The man was moving slowly, carefully, through the labyrinth of discarded packing crates and cartons, watching for any signs of others. Skinner sighed softly. Mulder was good -- his eyes never stopped moving, but the man hadn't looked up once! For someone who was known for his unorthodox thinking, he certainly seemed unable to remember the third dimension extended above and below. Ah, good! A glance up. He was being careful. Skinner watched him a moment longer, then slipped over to the ladder to head up to the man he had seen above. ****************************************** The door led to stairs that creaked horribly as Scully moved up them. Anyone up there would know she was coming long before she reached the top, but she continued onward, greatly encouraged by her victory over the man downstairs. She paused a few steps from the top, drew in a deep breath, then rushed the last bit up and emerged into a tiny, untidy kitchen. The sunlight streaming through the window was blinding, and she blinked furiously as tears flowed from her eyes. Gasping, she whipped her head around, looking for any sign that anyone else was in the kitchen, but it appeared deserted. She paused a moment, giving herself time to adjust to the light, and to her newly won freedom, then scanned for a phone. It was there, on the wall by the refrigerator, but when she lifted it, there was only silence. Replacing it quietly, she opened drawers until she found what she was looking for, then moved out of the kitchen, butcher knife clutched tightly in her hand. She searched the house, ever ready to meet another foe, and was almost disappointed to find she truly was alone. The man downstairs, who would be unconscious for a long time, was her only company. The house was tiny, consisting of a living room, bedroom, bath, and kitchen. The basement below completed the house's square footage, and she went back to the front room, peering through heavy drapes to see a late model sedan parked in the dirt driveway. She could see no other houses from her vantage at the window. This small cottage seemed to sit isolated, surrounded by fields of cotton, tobacco, and soy beans. Probably an old sharecropper's cabin that had been let to some hired hand now, or possibly offered to migrants during the season. She let the drapes fall back in place and dropped onto the ratty old sofa, her eyes scanning the room as she made her plans. She had to get out of here. The car was her escape. But that meant going back down and getting keys from the man in the cellar. She shuddered involuntarily. Despite her successful defeat of the big man, she had no desire to tempt fate by taking him on again. She really didn't even want to see him again. But she had no choice. Decision made, she rose quickly and descended once more to the basement. The man was still unmoving where her attack had left him. Blood dripped from his temple and he was clearly unconscious. The medical oath she had taken -- First, do no harm -- flashed briefly through her head, but she thrust it aside in favor of her own version of 'Do Unto Others.' Her perverse joke amused her, and she knew she was bordering on psychological shock to be so easily distracted. She searched the man quickly, having no compunction at turning him over to reach his back pockets when she came up empty in front. Still having no luck, she sat back on her heels thinking. Perhaps he'd left them upstairs. She went back up, moving more comfortably through the kitchen and into the front room, then looking around. The only thing that didn't seem to belong was a briefcase, tucked between the couch and an end table, almost out of sight. She could see how she had missed it in her first hurried look through the place. She pulled it out, placing it on the coffee table and then sitting on the sofa. Holding her breath as if she expected the thing to blow up, she opened it carefully and was immediately rewarded with the rattle of a set of keys. Keys to the car, keys to her freedom. She was ready to close the case, shifting it to do so, when one of the folders inside shifted and a name caught her eye. Mulder. The folder was labeled Mulder, F. W. Oh, God! She closed her eyes quickly, suppressing the shudder that threatened her, then pulled it out quickly. It was a comprehensive listing of procedures that had been performed, and monitoring of the results of those procedures. Scully slammed it shut, and threw it back in the briefcase. She didn't think she wanted to know. She licked her lips nervously, looking around. She had to get out of here. She had to read this. She had to tell Mulder. Item one first, she thought grimly, shutting the case firmly and moving out the front door. The car unlocked and started with ease, and she chose a direction at random, driving a good twenty minutes before she came to a very small town. The center was really nothing more than a small collection of buildings along the highway as it ran through the town. Post office, market, dime store, church, hardware store, a diner, and finally, what she had been looking for -- the police department. She pulled in quickly, taking one of the three parking places, the other two being marked "Chief" and "Official Vehicle," then turned off the engine. She looked briefly in the mirror, surprising herself that she could even consider appearances considering what she had been through. Hell, she didn't even know how long she had been missing. She wiped the worst of the dirt from her face, and pushed her rat's nest of hair out of her eyes, then looked down at her filthy clothes and bare feet. Shrugging, she got out of the car and walked resolutely toward the door of the building, briefcase firmly in her hand. The door opened easily and a young woman in a blue uniform looked up. Her welcoming smile faded quickly and she wrinkled her nose in distaste, but she still managed a civil, "May I help you, ma'am?" "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, badge number JTT0331613. I've been held captive in a small house about twenty minutes south of here, for --" she paused, "well, I was drugged and unconscious part of the time, so I don't know how long I've been missing. Also, I critically injured the perpetrator in the course of my escape so you'll need medical at the scene when you go pick him up." A man walked out of the back office then, and looked at Scully with a healthy hint of disbelief. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, "but could you repeat that?" "Look, I know what this looks like, but I want that car I drove in impounded, and get on the phone to the Bureau in DC. I work for Assistant Director Walter Skinner. His office can confirm my credentials." The man looked doubtfully at her, and she could see he was trying to decide if he wanted to risk making a fool of himself by making the requested phone call. He seemed to be on the verge of declining, when she said, "Think of how embarrassed you'll be when you find out I'm telling the truth." The man studied her a bit longer, then nodded. "Give Ms. Scully the phone, Marilyn," he said, and the clerk rose and opened a panel in the counter, allowing Scully to come in and sit at the desk. "What's today?" she asked as she lifted the receiver and dialed. "Friday. Why?" "A week," Scully sighed. "I've been gone a week. Mulder must be almost insane by now." There was a click in her ear and when she spoke again, it was to Skinner's assistant, Kim. "This is Agent Scully, Kim, I need to speak to the AD." There was a burst of chatter that even the police chief could hear, and Scully smiled as she listened to the story of her missing days. Finally she interrupted, and asked, "Kim, verify my identity to the police chief here, and arrange some credit, money, something for me. My clothes are a disaster, and I haven't eaten in I don't know how long." She passed the phone to the man, then asked Marilyn, "Do you have another line?" The woman nodded and led her to another desk, pushing a button to light up the second line. Scully dialed quickly, and was met with a recording, "The cellular customer you are ..." She hung up before it could finish. She thought a moment. So Mulder was out of pocket. She dialed again. Same recording. Skinner must be with him. What the hell were those two doing now? The police chief had finished now, and was holding out the phone to her. She hung up and walked over to him, taking the extended receiver with a polite, "Thank you." "Scully here." "Agent Scully? I'm arranging a credit voucher to be wired to the market there in town. The chief tells me it's just a couple doors down. You can get cash for travel expenses, credit for purchases anywhere in town. The locals assure me you'll have their full cooperation. The nearest airport is about an hour away and I'll have a ticket waiting for you." "Kim, you're a life saver. Now, where are Mulder and the AD?" "They flew in yesterday. They have two people in protective custody at Agent Mulder's apartment." "At Mulder's apartment?" "Yes. We have a dozen agents detailed there now. You can probably reach them there, or I can try and patch you through to their cells." "The cells aren't on," Scully mumbled absently. "I already tried. I'll call the apartment." She returned her attention to Kim. "How long till I have cash?" "About an hour, I'm afraid. But the next flight out isn't until three." Scully looked at the clock on the wall -- 10:30 -- then spoke. "That's fine, Kim, thank you. If the AD or Mulder checks in, tell them I'm on my way. You can reach me here," she looked up at the chief, who nodded quickly, then rattled off a number. "I'm going to get cleaned up, try to find some clothes, eat, and then I'll be on the way to DC." She said goodbye and started to hang up, but was halted by Kim's tentative query. "Agent Scully? Excuse me, and I'm not trying to butt in here, but shouldn't you have an escort or something?" She paused, and Scully could hear the woman's indecision. "I mean, you've been missing for a week. I bet Agent Mulder would have a fit if he found out you just intended to get on a plane and fly home as if nothing happened." "I'm fine, Kim, really, but thanks for your concern. And you're right, Mulder will have a fit, but he'll get over it." She smiled again, thinking of how much fun it would be to calm Mulder down after she pulled this little stunt. She was well aware that procedure called for her to have a full medical evaluation and there should be a thorough debriefing, and it should happen here, at the site. But she didn't have time for that. "Thanks again, Kim. I'll check in when I'm back in DC." "Agent Scully?" "Yes?" "That three o'clock plane gets in to Dulles at quarter to six." Scully could hear the woman toughening her voice. "There *will* be an escort waiting for you." Scully sighed, and Kim went on. "*You* may be able to deal with Agent Mulder, but *I* am the one that has to deal with the Assistant Director." Kim was persistent. It was a trait Skinner valued, she knew, because it kept an amazing amount of trifling things from ever getting through to him. But right now ... "Fine." Better to give in gracefully. And the woman was right. She should be waiting for an escort. The paperwork on this little escapade was going to take weeks. She dropped her head. And it was going to cost her the right to torment Mulder over his own foolhardy stunts. "Thanks again, Kim." She hung up before the woman could think of another objection. A throat cleared behind her and she turned to meet the chief's eyes. "My daughter is about your size. I'll call home and get my wife to bring you some clothes. What size shoe you need?" Scully told him, thanked him, and picked up the phone again. She dialed once more, then stood in stunned silence as a voice on the other end said, "Mulder residence." Finally recovering her voice, she asked in disbelief, "Mom?" End part 07/09 The Price of a Soul 08/09 He wasn't sure what to do next. No sign of the informant, no sign of Skinner, no sign of *anybody.* The smart thing to do was probably look around some more, see what he could learn. He certainly couldn't stay here indefinitely. He scanned the area again, almost embarrassed by the strength of his desire to see the big AD, to just be reassured that he wasn't really alone. Shaking off his weakness, he pushed away from the wall and began to move through the building again. There was a sound behind him and he whirled, gun raised before him, and then there was a shot and his shoulder exploded in pain. He was going down before he could even think, and his gun was ripped from his useless hands. He lay on the floor, panting, agony shrieking from the shoulder and down his arm, through his chest and back. He looked up at the man who stood above, wondering who he was, and why this man had such an interest in him, in Scully, and in his children. "Ah, Agent Mulder," the man spoke. "So good of you to come." He cast a cautious look around, then added, "Though we didn't expect you to be alone." "Someone had to stay with the children," Mulder gritted out through clenched teeth. The man laughed. "An interesting image. I don't usually picture the Assistant Director as a babysitter. Though I understand he has become quite attached to them." "Who are you?" Mulder demanded. "I am the current director of the -- shall we say -- Mulder project. A project you have seriously compromised with your rash actions." Mulder shrugged, an incredibly painful action, but one which had the anticipated effect. The man looked slightly worried, casting a glance around quickly. "What project?" "Why, you, of course, Agent Mulder." The man seemed truly surprised that Mulder had asked. "You and your children. You adapted fairly well to the genetic enhancements that were done in utero, but that was, of course, a long time ago." At Mulder's look of horror, the man smiled evilly, and went on. "With the advances in modern technology, we really expected more success from mating you with an enhanced female. But it is a tenuous process at best and we have had more failures than successes." "What do you mean?" "None of that is really important, Agent Mulder. Your usefulness to the project has ended. We have what we need from you, and your continued interference in things that should be left alone can no longer be overlooked." The man seemed to be enjoying his power, reveling in his supposed superiority over the helpless man on the floor. "You have had a strong protector in the past, but he, too, has acted rashly of late, and his position is eroding." "Who?" "I think you know who I mean. You tend to think of him as your nemesis, but in reality, he's been your chief supporter. An odd dichotomy, I admit, but one which he managed to balance admirably until late." "Why me? Why was I chosen for this?" "Everyone in the project from the early days made contributions. You were your father's contribution." Mulder shook his head. He didn't want to hear this. "Where's Scully? And why have you taken her? She wasn't involved in the early days." "No. But association with you made her useful in the beginning, but she turned out to have interesting qualities of her own." There was a sound and the man turned. Mulder lunged forward, his hands sweeping out and knocking the man's feet from under him. He was pushing up, forcing himself to rise, to retreat, to run, when he felt cold metal at his temple, and a voice ordered him back. He went down, arms collapsing as the adrenaline rush faded, and he laid his head wearily on the rough flooring. "Not so smart, Agent Mulder," the man said, finger on the trigger. Mulder looked up and could see the man's hand tighten, the finger pulling inexorably, the trigger sliding back. It moved so slowly he could see the individual muscles in the man's arm ripple, the veins pulsing in his hand. This was it. Mulder was surprised to find that your life really did flash before your eyes at a time like this. And his thoughts were filled with images of Scully. The first time. The last time. And every other time. And newer images of the children. Of Skinner. It was then he realized how much he had changed. It wasn't until he consciously thought of what was missing, that images of his mother and father arose, images of Samantha. He pushed them away in favor of the beautiful, the loving, the caring images of his lover, his children, his friend. He stared up as the trigger continued to move back, the slight creaking it made echoing loudly in the stillness of the warehouse. Mulder drew a deep breath, wishing it could be Scully's perfume that filled his nostrils for the last time. His eyes widened and the gun moved slightly, and he felt moisture on his face. Thank you, Sir, for all you've done. I'm sorry, Steven, I won't be able to keep my promise. Ah, Jess, I'll never really know you. Scully, my Scully. I will love you forever. He watched, mesmerized, as the trigger moved the last fraction, and there was a roar in his ears and a darkness in his face, and then there was nothing. ******************************************* "Mom?" Scully repeated, a dazed look on her face. "Is that you? What are you doing at Mulder's apartment?" "Dana? Dana? Are you all right? Where are you? Oh my, sweetie, what happened? Are you hurt?" "No, Mom, no, I'm fine, really. A few bumps and bruises, but I'm OK." "We've been worried sick! Where have you been?" Scully looked around. "I'm still not sure. I don't think ... Look, Mom, that's not important right now. I love you and I know you've been worried -- I'm so sorry I worried you again -- but I need to speak to Mulder now." She smiled a quick 'thank you' to the chief when he handed her a cup of coffee. "But Fox isn't here now, Dana." "The AD?" "Mr. Skinner isn't here now either. Dana, what is so important you have to speak to them?" Scully took a sip of the coffee. It tasted wonderful and helped give her the strength to face her mother. That was her mother's best "no-nonsense" voice, and it was very hard to resist, but Scully had had some time to perfect her own version of that voice -- with Mulder's help -- and she avoided the question again. "Why are you at Mulder's apartment, Mom? I thought they had two people in protective custody over there." Her mother seemed flustered, almost as if she felt the answer to that one would be obvious. "They do, dear. That's why I'm here." Her mother paused a moment, then added, "I'm watching them for Fox." Hot coffee flew out of Scully's mouth as she sputtered over her mother's comment. She began to choke, and Marilyn slapped her on the back as her mother called frantically, "Dana? Dana? Are you all right? Dana Katherine, what the hell is going on over there?" It took a few more moments, but Scully was finally able to breathe again, and she gasped into the phone, "Just a minute, Mom." She laid the receiver down, then rose and walked to the bathroom. A quick splash of water on her face, and some reality began to seep back into a world that had suddenly gone very surreal. Her mom at Mulder's apartment. With people in protective custody. That she was *watching* for him." Had everyone lost their minds while she'd been gone? She returned to the phone, sitting at the desk this time, and spoke. "Sorry, Mom, I swallowed wrong. Why," she paused as she carefully considered her next words, "are you watching the suspects for Mulder?" Margaret laughed then, and Scully felt her face flush. What had she said that was so funny? "Well, dear, they might be suspect in why there is water all over the bathroom floor, or who stole the last cookie, but I think that's about the length of their involvement in your suspect list. Dana, I'm watching the *children* for Fox. He didn't want to leave them with strangers." Scully heaved a sigh. Well, the world hadn't gone completely mad after all. And the children were safe. "Steven and Jess? They're OK?" "They're fine, sweetie. Just fine." Margaret looked over to the corner of the room where Steven was patiently stacking blocks and Jess was gleefully knocking them down. "Steven is wonderful with the baby. They've both stolen my heart." "I'm sure. They have a way of doing that. Mom? Their parents?" Margaret lowered her voice. "The adoptive parents?" She frowned. Didn't Dana know Fox was their father? Maybe not. And maybe she should wait and let him tell her. "They were killed by the men that took you, and them. Steven has quite a tale to tell of his rescue by Fox." Steven had been listening to the whole conversation and he got up now and came over to the phone. Scully could just make out his words. "Can I talk to Dana, Grandma?" "Grandma? They're calling you Grandma?" "Well, Maggie is a little too informal, and Mrs. Scully is too hard for the baby. Besides, Steven decided it would be a good name for me." She didn't go on to share his reasoning, but smiled as she thought of it. Since she was Dana's mom, and Dana was going to be their mom, then she had to be Grandma. "Grandma," the little boy wheedled, "please let me talk to Dana." Maggie passed the phone over. "Hi Dana!" "Hi, Steven. How are you?" "I'm OK. When are you coming home?" "Soon," Scully reassured the boy. "Very soon." "Fox and Uncle Walter went to find you." She was so intent on the concept of the two men out hunting for her, she completely missed the shift in the child's language from "Walter" to "Uncle Walter." "Steven, I'm really glad you're OK, but I need to speak to Mom, uh, Maggie, I mean, Grandma now." " 'kay. Bye, Dana." The boy handed the phone to Maggie and returned to his toys. "Sweetie?" "Mom? Where did Mulder and Skinner go?" "I'm not sure, dear. They said something about meeting someone who had information about where you were." Maggie stopped for a moment, thinking. "Oh, well, I'm sure they'll be home soon. Now that you're on your way as well." Scully sighed. "Mom, it doesn't work that way. Did they say *anything* about where they were going? Did they call to arrange for assistance? Take backup?" Maggie began to look worried now. "No," she said hesitantly. "I thought they were just meeting someone to talk. Honey, I have to admit, I was a lot more interested in the fact that they might be able to find out where you were, than how they were going to do it." "It's OK, Mom, give me a minute here." "Are they in danger, Dana?" "I don't know!" Scully could hear the frustration in her own voice. "Is there a computer around there? A laptop, not Mulder's Pentium." Maggie scanned the room, finally seeing the black case standing by the door. "I see it." "Get it, Mom. We need to see if we can figure out where they went." "Just a minute." Maggie retrieved the case, and opened it, then lifted the phone back to her ear. "I don't really know anything about these you know." "It's OK, Mom. I'll walk you through it." It took a few minutes because of Maggie's unfamiliarity, but she was finally into the system and had accessed Skinner's most recent mail. She was reading through requests for reviews, meeting notifications and reminders, case updates, when a strange one struck her. "This may be it," she said. "Look for Agent Mulder's apartment twice when you come to see me at the warehouse. Ten o'clock." "Does that mean anything to you, Dana?" "I think so, Mom." Scully sighed again. "We need to get some people out to find them. Now." "But honey, they're looking for you. Why would they need to be found?" "Because they're stubborn, hard-headed, single-minded, foolhardy, determined *idiots* when it comes to things like this." "Like what, dear?" Scully swallowed hard. "Like me. Like my safety. I know they went alone; didn't take backup. If anything happens to them, I swear, I'll kill 'em myself!" "Dana! Calm down. I'm well aware that Fox has acted rather -- impetuously -- in the past, but I'm sure Mr. Skinner wouldn't allow him to go off on his own ..." "Mother!" God, why hadn't she ever explained this to her mom? "It was *Skinner* who led the way the last time Mulder got hurt. Granted, I don't think he planned to take him, but, I swear, the two of them are on some male-bonding kick or something and I think they almost *enjoy* working together now!" She snorted. "Look, Mom? Get me the most senior agent on guard detail. I really need to talk to him." ******************************************* Skinner fired, the bullet hitting the man squarely in the back, and he toppled over, landing directly on Mulder. The AD moved quickly down from the catwalk. He was sure he had taken out all the hidden targets, this one had been last. He had been hoping to get to talk to him, but when he had put the gun to Mulder's head, pulled the trigger, Skinner had no choice but to shoot. He leapt the last way, foregoing the stairs in favor of speed, irregardless of the shock that rippled up his legs as he landed on the unrelenting floor. He raced over to the pile of men, wrenching the man he had shot off of Mulder, and throwing his body to the side. He looked down. Mulder was breathing. No blood on his face, no open wound in his head. Skinner closed his eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. He had been in time. He ripped open Mulder's shirt, looking for other wounds, then when he saw blood on the younger man's shoulder, he pulled the dressing off, looking for signs of new trauma on top of the old. But there was nothing. He rolled the man forward, into his lap, and looked at the wound from the back. And then he began to laugh. Little puffs of suppressed laughter at first, laughter that bubbled up from deep in his belly and quickly turned into huge gulping guffaws. Only Mulder! Geez! The man in his lap groaned, and Skinner laughed even harder. God, Mulder was going to be so embarrassed, and Skinner was determined to *never* let him live this down. "Wha?" Mulder said groggily. "You awake now?" Skinner asked, the laughter finally subsiding. "What's so funny? You get off on seeing me shot and almost killed?" Skinner chuckled again. "You wish. You're gonna regret living when you find out what really happened." "Huh?" "Apparently, Agent Mulder, you haven't been shot at all." "No! I had to be! I felt it -- felt like my shoulder exploded again!" "He missed. Hit the wall behind you. Your back -- and your shoulder wound -- are full of little pieces of concrete block and splinters of wood. Must have ricocheted out from the wall when your friend over there fired. Bet it hurt like hell." He grinned at the man in his lap. "You fainted." Mulder groaned. "Tell me I'm dead," he begged. "No such luck," Skinner said cheerfully. "But as I said, I'm sure there will be many times when you wish you were." "You're not going to forget this, are you?" Mulder rolled far enough over to look up at his friend. "Not during your lifetime," Skinner assured him. The two men smiled at one another in silence for a moment, Skinner resting his hand on Mulder's forehead briefly. Then both looked toward the door as the sounds of sirens suddenly became audible. Lots of sirens. Heading their way. ********************************************** Who knew water could be so wonderful. And being clean could be so decadent. Fresh clothes were a delight to the skin despite -- Scully looked down at her borrowed retro 60s jeans with the flowers running down the seams -- feeling that she looked like an overgrown teenager. And food was positively heavenly. Scully pushed the plate away and sighed in contentment. She was clean, she was clothed, and her stomach no longer complained. What more could she ask for? She glanced up at the clock again. 11:15. The wire from Kim should be here any time now. Though being in a small town certainly had its advantages, she no longer needed the funds to take care of basic necessities. It would be nice to buy a gun but with no ID, and dressed as she was, that was not going to happen. Scully looked at the clock again. 11:18. This would never do. She was worried about Mulder and Skinner but she left firm instructions with Agent Hankins that she was to call as soon as Mulder and Skinner were located. Until the wire came, the call came, and time to leave for the airport came, she needed something to occupy herself. She glanced around, eyes landing on the briefcase she had carried out from the small house. She rose and picked it up, laying it on the desk and opening it. She lifted Mulder's folder out and settled back in the chair to read. Subject: Fox William Mulder DOB: October 13, 1961 Father: William Samuel Mulder DOB: March 19, 1931 Mother: Martina Louise Kuipers DOB: August 14, 1934 Conceived approx: January 25, 1961 Genetic enhancements: 1, 3, 7 performed April 6, 1961 Scully paused and rifled through the papers in the folder, looking desperately for the cross-reference. But there was no list, no hint of what these 'genetic enhancements' could possibly be. She turned back and continued reading. This top sheet seemed to be a summary of Mulder's life. She read on. Milestones: Rolled over - 3 mos Sits without assistance - 4 1/2 mos First word - 6 mos Crawling - 6 mos Pulls self to standing - 6 1/2 mos Speaks two word sentences - 7 mos Walking - 7 1/2 mos Speaks three word sentences - 8 1/2 mos Runs stiffly - 11 mos 25 word vocabulary - 12 mos Follows simple commands - 12 mos Runs well - 14 mos Toilet trained during day - 17 mos Recognizes colors - 18 mos Sleeps dry through night - 21 mos Counts to number five - 22 mos Knows ABCs - 24 mos Recognizes written letters - 26 mos Reads 2-3 letter words - 29 mos Scully paused, her finger coming up to tug at her lip as she thought back on Mulder's development. Several things leapt out at her. He had developed at an extraordinarily rapid pace. She was willing to bet those mysterious 'genetic enhancements' 1, 3, and 7 involved gross motor and language skills. And recognizing Mulder's remarkable memory, that had to be his third 'enhancement.' She looked back at the page. There was a notation regarding the birth of the sibling when Mulder was 4 and his apparent comfortable adaptation to the change in the family structure. The next entry was a narrative concerning an exam that had been conducted when Mulder was 7. Scully's eyes widened in horror at what she saw next. "Sibling scheduled for termination at 30 months due to comparative slow development. Termination cancelled when impact on successful subject considered." The phone rang drawing Scully from her reverie. And she looked up at the clock again. 11:45. The second line rang and she watched as Marilyn scrambled to deal with them both. Finally, she pushed the button to end one call, then held the receiver out toward Scully. "The first one was the market. Your wire is here. And this one," she waved the phone slightly, "is a very insistent Agent Mulder for you." Scully closed the folder. She wanted very much to finish reading it, but it seemed to be something Mulder should see first, or at least at the same time. It was going to be hard to refrain from looking at it anymore. She put the folder in the briefcase, then closed it firmly before she took the phone. "Mulder?" "Hey, Scully. How you doing?" "I'm fine, Mulder. Where are you?" Mulder looked over at the ER doctor and grimaced. "I'm, uh, getting ready to head back to the apartment." He glanced quickly at Skinner, saw the frown, and began to wonder if he was going to get away with this. "Hankins said it was you who sent the cavalry after me and Skinner." He paused again, "There really wasn't any need. We were doing fine by ourselves." He looked at Skinner again, the frown had turned into pursed lips, and the man was moving toward him. "Agent Mulder, give me the phone," Skinner demanded. "Uh, Scully, I think the AD would like to speak to you." "No doubt," Scully responded dryly. "Maybe I'll find out where you are now." "You really OK, Scully?" "I'm really OK." Mulder lowered his voice and turned his head to the side slightly, "I missed you, Scully," he whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't there." "I know, Mulder. It's not your fault. We'll have plenty of time to talk about this when I get home." "This and some other things," Mulder responded, as Skinner cleared his throat. He raised his voice and turned back to look at the AD. "I think Skinner is ready to talk to you. I'll see you soon?" "Count on it." Mulder passed the phone to Skinner. "Agent Scully." "Yes, Sir." "Good to hear your voice. You had us all concerned." "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." "I understand from Kim you're planning to fly home today?" Scully swallowed hard. Busted. "Well, uh, yes, Sir." "And I don't suppose it would do me any good to order you to stay there and wait for appropriate escort?" Skinner's eyes were twinkling as he spoke. "No, Sir. I'm sorry, not this time." Skinner smiled but spoke gruffly, "In that case, I'll have to order you to be on that 3:00 flight and get your ass back to DC as quick as you can." Scully relaxed back into the chair and grinned. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. I can do that, Sir." "See that you do," Skinner said as he hung up the phone. He spoke to the ER doctor. "How much longer until he can leave?" he nodded at Mulder. The doctor, a tall Asian woman, looked up from where she was pulling bits of concrete out of Mulder's back. "This man has suffered what appears to be a third significant trauma in a relatively short period of time. I really feel we need to admit him for observation." Mulder half-rose from the table and Skinner hurried to push him back down. "You and what army?" the AD muttered to the woman, patting Mulder's arm as the younger man relaxed. "He's got to meet a plane in about 6 hours." End part 08/09 The Price of a Soul 09/09 "When's she gonna be here, Fox?" Steven asked impatiently. "Soon, Steven, very soon. Come with me for a minute." Mulder pulled himself up to his feet carefully, then took the boy's hand and led him to a display several feet away. Skinner watched from where he sat near Maggie, holding the baby. "She's on Flight 426, Steven. Can you find that one?" Mulder waited patiently, watching as the little boy studied the monitors. "There!" the child said excitedly, finger pointing up at the display. "There it is! See?" He turned triumphantly to look up at Mulder. "That's right, Steven. Very good!" Mulder praised. Skinner was watching this scene with a small smile on his lips, when Maggie said, "He's very good with the boy, isn't he?" The older man nodded. "Better than me." Maggie looked over at the baby, asleep in the big man's arms and said, "I wouldn't be so sure of that. But Fox has two things going for him. He's a natural with kids; he really likes them and they can tell that." She grew quiet, staring at the man and boy as they continued their lesson on reading airline displays. "And?" Skinner prompted softly. "Well, I'm not positive, but I don't think Fox had the best situation growing up. Not the best role models for parents." She turned and looked earnestly at the AD. "Mind you, I'm not being critical. I don't know what it would be like to lose a child as they did in that family. I can't imagine the stress it would create." She pursed her lips slightly, face growing just a trifle hard. "I think it was extremely hard on Fox. I'm amazed at how well he turned out." "How does that translate as something going for him?" Skinner asked, curious about a parent's assessment of Mulder, the new father. "He's trying very hard to do the right things with the children. He's patient. And like this. Instead of getting angry at Steven's repeated question, or ignoring the child, or just answering him, Fox has turned it into an opportunity to teach something. And a brief moment to spend some time with the boy." She smiled as Mulder hugged Steven, and they turned to come back to the seats. "And he certainly seems to know what *not* to do, doesn't he?" she finished. "Grandma, Uncle Walter!" Steven called as they approached. "Dana's on Flight 426. It gets in at 5:47. It's 5:42 now." The boy held up his arm, Mulder's watch dwarfing his small wrist. "Fox showed me. That's in five minutes!" He was dancing where he stood, his excitement uncontainable for the moment. "Just five more minutes." He looked up at Mulder, who nodded his approval. "Oh," he added, returning his attention to Skinner and Maggie, "and the plane's on time." Another look up at his father. "We checked." Mulder was shifting nervously from foot to foot, one eye watching the monitor to make sure it didn't change, and Skinner patted the seat next to him. "Sit, Mulder, you're supposed to be resting." "I'm OK, Sir," the man mumbled, looking again at the display. He turned to look out the window, then looked down at Steven. "Wanna go watch the planes land?" The boy nodded, and Mulder took his hand. "Uh," he looked at Maggie and Skinner, "you guys OK with the baby?" Maggie laughed. "Go on, Fox, you're even making *me* nervous." She snuck a quick glance at Skinner, then added, "You boys stay where we can see you," and was rewarded with a red-faced look from Fox, and a loud chuckle from Skinner. The plane landed on time, and Maggie, Skinner and Jess joined Mulder and Steven to stand and watch every passenger who exited. Maggie was watching Mulder more than she watched the passageway, and she could tell the exact moment he spotted her daughter. His face underwent an incredible transformation. All signs of worry and concern disappeared, his forehead smoothing out and a tension seemed to seep from his body. His eyes lit up so brightly, Maggie wondered how he refrained from blinding people with his happiness. He smiled and started to speak, then stopped himself, looking down at the boy who clung to his hand. The child was craning his neck around the taller people, still searching, and as Maggie watched, he too saw Dana. "There she is, Fox!" he cried. "Dana! Dana! We're over here!" The boy broke away from Mulder's grasp and raced toward Scully. Maggie was amused at first, until she noticed how Mulder immediately tensed, how swiftly he darted after Steven, total terror stiffening his body again as he eyed the crowds and made a beeline for his son. For a moment, she worried he was going to yell at the boy, or even spank him, but he contained himself, and simply stood close, very close, as her daughter knelt and hugged Steven. Oh yes, Mulder would make a fine father. Scully rose slowly from her hug with Steven, her eyes rising to meet Mulder's. She looked around, saw Skinner and her mother, then said quietly, "Hey there." "Hey yourself," he responded, eyes drinking her in. He took in the retro jeans and tight T-shirt, the complete lack of make-up on her face, and the little pony-tail she had pulled her hair into. She looked about sixteen. Sixteen in '65. The business attache she carried was the only incongruity in her outfit. He grinned and lifted his hand, the one not holding firmly onto Steven. He spread the first two fingers into a 'V' and said, "Peace, partner." Scully flushed, then glanced down at the clothes she wore. She gave Mulder a wry grin and commented, "Apparently, I'm the same size as the police chief's daughter. She's fourteen." " 's OK," Mulder murmured, his hand coming out to gently trace her cheek. "I kinda like the look." She smiled softly, then noticed the bulge at his shoulder. She reached out and tenderly touched the shirt where it covered his latest wound, and murmured, "Oh, Mulder." A sad shake of her head, then she lifted her hand to brush his hair back, letting her fingers linger on his brow before dropping her hand slowly. He leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against hers, and he stared into her eyes until he could take no more joy and he was forced to close them. They stood that way for a long moment, Steven looking happily up from between them, one hand still holding his father's. Mulder drew a deep shuddery breath, eyes behind closed lids threatening to fill. It was always like this. Just being with her stole his breath. Seeing her filled his heart to overflowing. Knowing she was safe made his soul sing. "Daddy Pox!" Jess called, effectively stealing the moment, and Scully looked up, startled. "*Daddy* Pox?" she asked. Skinner chuckled and Mulder said, "Long story." Maggie laughed too, and moved forward to embrace Scully. She pulled the younger woman to her, then pushed her away, holding her at arm's length. "Fox is right. You do look like a refugee from the sixties, though this is more Melissa's style than yours, if I recall correctly." Scully kissed her mother on the cheek. "Since when have you ever been wrong about anything?" she teased. Maggie hugged her again, then straightened. "Well," she said, looking around, "you seem to have things under control, and I have a long drive home. I think I'll head on out." Mulder went to her and kissed her forehead. "Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Scully. I don't know what we would have done without you." "Hush, now," Maggie scolded gently, and she hugged the tall man, then pulled away. "That's what grandmas are for." She leaned over and hugged Steven, then kissed Jess who was starting to squirm in Skinner's arms. "You two be good, and I'll come see you again soon." She pulled on her jacket, slipping her purse onto her shoulder. "Mr. Skinner," she said, nodding, and he added his thanks to Mulder's. "Bye, Mom," Scully called. She now held Steven's hand in hers, and they watched as Maggie disappeared down the escalator. When she was gone from sight, Mulder sighed. "No luggage, I take it, eh, Scully?" "Just this." She lifted the case. "And that is?" Mulder asked. "Your life." She turned to Skinner. "Sir, my weapon and my ID were at the house in my bag. Did you find them?" Skinner shook his head. "Sorry. There was no sign of any of your stuff. Almost as if we were meant to believe you had never arrived." He shifted Jess to his other arm, murmuring to her softly, then lifted a hand to push his glasses back up his nose. "I've already made arrangements for you to have a new ID made, and you can requisition a weapon. I'll sign the approvals. In the meantime," he met her eyes, "you have a spare?" "At my place." "OK. We'll head there then." "Uncle Walter?" Steven had let go of Mulder and Scully and was tugging at Skinner now. "I'm hungry." He looked around the busy airport, people hurrying by, planes roaring just outside, the drone of voices almost deafening. The excitement had worn off, and his face tightened in distaste as a man almost knocked Scully over in his haste to get by. "I want to go home." "We will, Steven. We just need to go to Scully's -- er, Dana's -- for a minute." The normally complacent child crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly on the ground. "I don't *want* to go to Dana's. I want to go *home!*" Mulder knelt beside him, surprised to see tears in the boy's eyes. "Shh, Steven, it's OK." He pulled the boy into his arms, then looked up at Skinner. "Why don't I take them home and you and Scully can go to her place?" "Nooooo!" the boy wailed. "Fox, we all have to stay together!" The tears began to fall, and Mulder rose. He wanted to pick the child up, but his shoulder wouldn't permit it. Instead, there was a general shuffling as the adults sorted things out. Steven clung to Mulder's leg and he stroked the boy's back, murmuring to him, as he explained to the others. "It's been too much for him. He's had enough. He needs some stability right now." Skinner nodded, passed the baby to Scully, and scooped Steven up. Since he had been the one to suggest going to Scully's, he half-expected to be rebuffed. But the boy wrapped himself in the man's arms. Arms around neck, legs around waist, he clung to Skinner and wept. Skinner held him tight and Mulder stroked his back. Scully was whispering to him as well, and even little Jess reached out to touch his forehead. When the boy had cried himself out, Skinner spoke. "Why don't we go home, Steven?" "To our home? With Fox?" Skinner nodded. "And I can carry you this time." The boy sniffed, laid his head on Skinner's shoulder, and was soon fast asleep. ************************************* The drive home had been peaceful, Steven sleeping most of the way, and Jess playing quietly in her car seat. The three adults kept the conversation light, Bureau gossip, weather, what to have for dinner, almost by unspoken agreement. There was no question that all three of them would go to Mulder's apartment, and all three of them would be staying there, at least until the children were settled and a real discussion could be had. Scully had been somewhat surprised by the appearance of black sedans -- one in front of them, one behind. Her whispered "Is this really necessary?" had been met with a grim nod from Skinner and was the only 'serious' conversation they had had. And now, dinner was behind them -- baths and books and beds were done. The three exhausted grown-ups lay sprawled on the sofa and chairs in the living room. "I'm never going to survive this," Mulder muttered. "You're doing fine, Mulder," Skinner hurried to reassure the younger man. "Even Maggie said you would be a good father." "Hold it," Scully said, sitting up straighter. "Jess calls you 'Daddy Pox' now, my mother says you're a good father, Skinner says you're doing fine, and Steven calls *this,*" she looked skeptically around the apartment, eyes widening slightly as she realized how *clean* it was, and how many toys and books and games had appeared in her absence, "home." She fastened her eyes to Mulder. "Is there something you need to tell me?" "Uh, well, yes, there is," Mulder answered, "but it's not what you think." "None of this is what anyone thinks," Skinner interjected. He sat up straighter too, and when he spoke again, both agents knew that it was the AD who spoke. "I think we need to go over everything we know. Share information. Begin our reports." He softened slightly as he offered a small smile to Scully. "We'll get to everything, I assure you." Mulder rose at that. "This could take a while. Let me make some coffee before we get started." He wandered into the kitchen, picking up toys, shoes, jackets, as he went, and Scully stared in open-mouthed astonishment at the sight. Her reverie was interrupted when Skinner stood and walked over to the couch, then sat on the coffee table before it. "Agent Scully," he began, but then his voice softened and he reached up and removed his glasses. One hand slipped out and gently took her smaller one. "Dana," he sighed, "are you really all right?" She smiled at him. "I really am. And I owe it to you." He raised an eyebrow and she nodded. "Yep. The guy was big, bigger than you. More like Quintano." "The instructor at the Academy?" Scully nodded again. "*My* instructor when I went through. Anyway, this guy, he just wasn't expecting me to be able to do anything against someone his size. I think it was his own surprise that took him down as much as anything." She gave a satisfied chuckle, then looked up again. "We ever get a name?" Mulder reentered at that moment, three coffee mugs held in his hands. "Hot, hot, hot," he chanted, "I could use some help here if you two are done snuggling." He laughed as Skinner dropped Scully's hand and jumped up to grab a mug. Mulder handed the other one to Scully, then sat beside her on the couch. "So, where are we, Sir?" "We were *not* snuggling, Agent Mulder," Skinner said, struggling to keep the smile off his face. "He's so easy, isn't he, Scully?" Mulder asked with an easy familiarity, only to have her punch him lightly on the arm. "You better play nice," she warned. "We owe him." Mulder's face turned serious as he looked at her, then took Skinner in too. "Oh, that I know, Scully. That I know." There was an awkward pause, then Skinner spoke again. "All right, let's get this started. The house, Scully. What do you remember from the house?" She quickly recounted the events, much the same as Steven had reported, and Skinner dutifully made notes. "What about you?" she asked. "What did you do when you got there? And how," she touched Mulder's shoulder, "did you get this?" When he started to protest it was nothing, she narrowed her eyes and added, "I've been very patient. I didn't even say anything until now. But I want answers." Skinner filled her in on the attack on Mulder in the LaFreniere house, which required a pause while she looked at his stomach wound, then the fiasco at the farmhouse. "Mulder was the one that went in. He found Steven, got him out just before the whole damn thing collapsed," he finished. Scully was examining the shoulder wound now. "So this was rebar, not a gunshot?" "Honest. No gunshots. Cross my heart," Mulder said as he did exactly that. Scully snorted at his antics. "Too bad. I thought you might have figured the first time wasn't enough and wanted more." She looked at his back. "So what is all this?" "We're getting there." Skinner was speaking again. "But first, the house where you were held?" "I can't tell you much, Sir." She was replacing the bandage on Mulder's wound as she spoke. "I was kept in the basement, and I believe I was kept drugged for much of the time. I have no idea why they allowed the drugs to wear off when they did." She completed her task, then helped him tug his shirt over his head. A sip of her coffee, then she looked up. "What did they find out from the man I took down?" "Nothing." "Nothing?" Skinner nodded grimly. "Nothing," he repeated. "When the police got out there, everything was as you described it, size of the basement, the wooden stairs, the furniture, even the pictures on the wall. No doubt you had been there, no doubt you had been held captive. The rope was still in the bedroom, with your blood on it. No doubt there had been a struggle in the basement. There was blood there as well. Not yours, I might add. But there was no suspect to be picked up." Scully put her coffee down and rose, walking angrily to the window. She stood silent for a moment, then said, "There is no way that man walked away from there." She swallowed hard. "I -- hurt him. Bad. I've been wondering if I killed him." She turned and faced Skinner squarely. "That man did *not* walk away on his own." "I believe you," the AD responded. "But you know what that means." "Yes. Someone manipulated the whole thing. The drugs were allowed to wear off so I could escape. Then, once I was gone, they came and got their accomplice." She sighed. "But why?" "Me," Mulder said dejectedly. "The man in the warehouse said I am part of some damn project. He called it the 'Mulder Project.' Said he was the head and I guess I was the focus." Scully walked swiftly to the briefcase. "Not the focus of the project, Mulder," she corrected, as she opened it and pulled out the folder. "You *are* the project." She pulled out the summary sheet -- passing it to her partner, her lover, her friend. Skinner moved over to sit on the table again, and they both began to read. "Genetic enhancements? What the hell does that mean?" Scully spoke. "I think numbers 1, 3 and 7 relate to gross motor skills, language, and memory." "How did you figure that out?" "The summary. Your development was off the chart, Mulder. Months ahead of most babies. That clued me on the first two." She flipped through the folder. "It wasn't until you started school that there are notations on specific memory traits." Mulder's eyes were flashing. "They were going to terminate Sam? Just because she didn't develop as fast as I did?" He finished the page, then threw it down in disgust. "What the hell were my parents thinking?" "I'm not sure your parents had much choice, Mulder," Skinner said softly. "I don't pretend to understand, but I think that whatever was going on back then, the men who were in charge? I think they were all required to make contributions to the project." "So why wasn't I enough? Didn't the Mulder family do its duty well enough? Let these monsters practice on an unborn child? Me? That wasn't enough? They had to take Samantha too?" Scully had slid over and was sitting next to Mulder, her arm was around him, pulling him into her, and he sat hunched over his knees, not really leaning into her, but not resisting either. Skinner touched his arm, forcing Mulder to look at him. "We don't know enough yet. We may never know enough." He sighed. "At least the 'enhancements' were good." "Good?" Mulder exploded, flying off the couch to pace frantically. "Good? You think it's good? I was always faster, smarter, better than everyone. I always had to slow down, think before I spoke. Every word had to be examined twenty times. Can I say this? Will this make me look too smart? Is this OK? Every action had a thousand questions. How good can I be? How fast can I run? How high can I jump? I was always *different!* I was always apart. Sam was the only one I could be myself with. The only one! And they took her! They took her away and she never came back!" He was gasping now, fighting tears, fighting rage, shuddering at the effort of self-control. Scully went to him, and this time when she embraced him, he let her pull him tight against her, holding him where he stood. His head dropped, resting on her shoulder and he stood unmoving, breathing heavily, for long moments. Skinner rose, carrying the mugs into the kitchen, giving them some space. "Mulder?" she asked finally, when he had not spoken for some time. "Mulder. You survived. You're here. And you are your own man. No matter what they did to you, they don't own you. Never have. Never will." He smiled then, and she could feel him relax against her. "It's just -- a shock. I always just thought I was smart. I didn't know I was made that way." He stared back at the bedroom, where the children slept. "If they've done this to them ..." The thought remained unspoken, the threat hung in the air. Skinner returned then, fresh coffee for them all. "We need to finish reviewing the folder. Let's pull the remaining papers and split them up." It wasn't long before Scully gasped, then looked over at her partner. "They're yours! The children really are yours!" "What did you find?" Skinner demanded, even as Mulder was nodding. She passed the papers to the AD, then spoke again. "When did you find out?" "At the farmhouse. Skinner told me before I went in for Steven." "Mulder." Skinner's face had drained of color. "Jesus, Mulder." Scully was nodding -- she'd already seen this -- and Mulder was looking confused. "What?" he asked. "What is it?" "There are eight listed. Eight. Steven was the first. Jess is the sixth." "Eight? What do you mean, eight?" "Eight 'experimental fertilizations of enhanced material.'" "Eight? Then where are the others?" Skinner looked up, his face grief-stricken. "They were -- terminated." "Terminated?" Mulder's head fell into his hands. "Fuck. When?" He looked up slowly. "No. Why?" Skinner's voice caught as he spoke again. This was all so fucking pointless. Innocent lives, innocent children, wasted because they didn't meet some arbitrary standard. "When? At 30 months." He swallowed hard again, then went on. "Why? Because they couldn't read." "No child reads at that age," Mulder murmured, head falling again. "You did," Scully said softly. "So did Steven." It took a moment, then Mulder looked up. "Jess, too, right?" Scully shook her head slowly. "No. When you and the AD found them, Steven was there for assessment. Jess was there for termination." "Nooooooooooooooo," it came out as a long, tortured wail, an unending release of unending agony. "How can I keep her safe from this?" Scully reached out, wrapping her arms around the man on the couch. "We'll help you. We'll be here every step of the way. And we will find a way to keep her safe. To keep them both safe." She looked over at Skinner, nodded, and he reached out as well, his hands resting tentatively on Mulder's arms, then biting down tightly as he sought to reinforce, to reassure through presence alone. Mulder shook beneath their touch, a torrent of emotion raging through him, a storm of passion that could not be contained. "I never planned to have children. I never planned it," he muttered repeatedly, "but I have to keep them safe." This litany went on and on, and Scully began to wonder if she should consider giving him a sedative. He was frantic one moment, full of self-contained rage the next, and then almost incoherent. She looked at Skinner helplessly, but he could only shrug and tighten his grip to keep the man in one place. The clock chimed and Skinner began to wonder how long they had sat like this, when there was a second chime, softer, shorter, singular. He looked up in surprise, then looked around, his eyes landing on his laptop, buried on Mulder's desk, but still open, still connected from Maggie Scully's unorthodox search of his computer. The chime echoed in his head. He had mail. He realized Mulder had stilled beneath his hands, and the man was staring at the computer as well. This was too convenient, too pat to be anything other than related to this case, this situation. He looked at Mulder again. "Better get this place swept for bugs," he muttered as he strode to the laptop. Opening the mail reader, he saw one new piece waiting for him. With Scully behind him on one side, and Mulder on the other, he opened it and began to read. "Mr. Skinner, You have been most helpful to me in regaining my former position of authority. Your assistance on the island, and then again at the farmhouse was invaluable. And though it was not your intention to aid me again, and though we did not negotiate a price in advance, your assistance at the warehouse was most welcome. As a token of my appreciation, I wish to assure you, and Agents Mulder and Scully, that he and the children will be left alone. There will be no further work on the 'Mulder Project.' That is my gift to you. For, after all, who can put a price on a soul?" End I have been warned that I may be taking my life in my hands to end this in this way, but, rest assured, gentle readers, despite my best intentions otherwise, I will do at least one more story in this universe. Thanks for letting me share it with you.