TITLE: Up Near Aspen

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

RATING: NC-17, SK/SC. This story contains VERY GRAPHIC consensual HET sex. Forewarned is forearmed. If you don't like really graphic stuff, STOP HERE!

SUMMARY: Post colonization. A Travelers Tale? Of sorts. Two lonely people find hope. Some angst here readers - so prepare thyself. Attention - reoccurring character deaths - one of which some of you may not mind at all.

Missed parts of this story? Surf here: https://www.squidge.org/3wstop to find them.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING. Post Colonization. Spoilers would include all of season 6 really, but especially SR819 and Two Fathers/One Son. Also, spoilers for Fight the Future. For purposes of this story I'm ignoring the Season 6 finale.

KEYWORDS: story romance angst Skinner Scully Mulder NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use.

Please ask me before you archive my work. I usually don't mind but I do like to know where my stories are going. Thanks much.

Written in April and May of 1999.

*Author's note: I've been intrigued with colonization and post colonization fan fic for quite some time ever since I read "The Paved Paradise Series". So yes, ME and LA - it's partly your fault! This story is my humble offering to the sub-genre. So it goes...

Second author's note at the end.

TITLE: Up Near Aspen

by frogdoggie

"If you are the dreamer, I am your dream. But if you would wake, I am your will and become lord of all magnificence and grow round like a starry silence over the wonderful city of time"

- translated from German. Rainer Maria Rilke, Das Stunden-Buch, Book I, 1899

xXx

BEFORE:

They came on the fourth of July. Just like the final battle in that idiotic movie "Independence Day". July fourth was perfect I suppose. The weekend was a holiday. People were away from their homes, marshal law could be easily declared and the masses controlled with efficiency being uprooted as they were anyway. It was warm...and they like the warmth.

The first warning the general population received was a high atmosphere detonation of some kind. EMP burst. The entire world's communication grid went to hell in a hand basket. Amazing how alien technology could select just who wasn't supposed to be able to communicate wasn't it? Well, that got our attention but it was ultimately too little attention, too late. They came in force between July fourth and July sixth. Mankind didn't have a chance.

The collaborators, the potential Overlords, in their EMP shielded facilities moved full steam ahead towards world domination. The shadow government, the one I'd been out of the loop on for quite some time, had been long in place of course, and its minions acted swiftly. Every one of them had their roles to play. The population had a role too. The average John and Jane Does were all fair game. We all turned out to be pawns in the game. And pawns are sacrificed.

The lucky ones were killed outright. Yeah, lucky because that list bought you a ticket to instant oblivion. The rest went to fates way worse then death. Right, they'd made their little lists - just like that song in the Mikado.

Lists of people who were supposed to be eradicated outright. The surplus no one wanted to bother to control. The old, the weak, and the infirm - or just the ones who were too much trouble because they were part of some excess population group. If you had an address on mainland China you were out of luck when your number was up, I guess. Whatever. Like I said - the lucky ones. The unlucky ones were on lists of potential incubators - hosts for the conquering race. Other doomed souls were on a list to become alien human hybrids or ova producers for the same. Many unlucky fuckers were on a list to become potential slaves - drone workers for the master race.

I was on a list. So was Mulder and so was Dana Scully. None of us were on the lucky list. No, we were all designated amongst the unlucky. It was only blind luck that saved two of us. The third? Well, the jury's still out on Fox Mulder. We're still, ostensibly looking for Mulder even now.

But Scully and I survived, thanks to Mulder, and because we ran.

I remember that night with crystal clarity. July third actually. It was an unusually hot summer night. Just after midnight and the heat was still palpable through the windows at the back of my desk. I could see it simmer from my air conditioned haven within the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Haven? My prison. It had been for years. Yeah, my cell - where in a particularly bitter moment like that night I told myself I spent my days pushing paper into a dismal retirement. In my more bitter hours I told myself I signed away my soul on one of those pieces of paper as well. At any rate, I had just put my suit coat back on. I thought about going home as I mused in front of my windows. I was working late. Yeah, I know...working late on a holiday - but it was necessary. I still had a scrap of pride in the job sometimes.

As I contemplated the summer night sky, Dana Scully burst into my office. I had wondered what in the hell she was doing there late on a holiday weekend as well. I found out later she was just trying to catch up on a report and stayed late to finish it. To finish it for me as a matter-of-fact. I guess you could say dedication saved Scully's life. I guess you could say it saved us both.

"Mulder," she gasped out, and it was the beginning of the end.

Her partner had been with friends that night. Those three computer hackers I'd run into a couple of times when Mulder was in the hospital. Scully rushed through her explanation. I stood impassively and listened, my usual healthy dose of disbelief coming instantly into play. Yeah, even then I still treated Mulder's theories with skepticism - much as Scully still sometimes did. But something in Scully's eyes turned my disbelief into growing concern. I began to think that maybe this time skepticism was not going to win the day.

The Lone Gunmen she called them. The Lone Gunmen and Mulder had received a direct feed from some SETI project radio telescope showing an unmistakable signal directed at Earth. ET was phoning but it wasn't home he was calling. Pictures at 10 Mulder had said. Someone on the SETI project had a refracting telescope too. There was an object almost as large as Washington, DC emitting those signals. He had faxed her the radio telescope read-out and she laid it on my desk her hand shaking slightly. The blip was huge and it was fast approaching. Scully said the warning e-mails from all the Gunmen's contacts were rolling in at their warehouse office. ET was coming all right they advised, in force.

What had triggered the invasion? Who the hell knows. Scully said the first swarm of bees had been reported in Plano, Texas so the advance guard was in action as well. The last two calls Mulder had received were the most convincing - at least for him. Diana Fowley, for old times sake, telling him to get out and he'd be getting a second call as to where to seek shelter. The second call came from Alex Krycek. Fucking Krycek - for old times sake telling him he was a stupid fucker, but he figured he owed him for his father. I cringed inwardly at hearing that bastard Krycek's name. I still hate him and if I ever find him I'll probably still shoot him.

I regret I never told Mulder it was Krycek that infected me with the nanocytes. I had grave doubts as to his motivations and maybe if I'd told Mulder of Krycek's duplicity he wouldn't have thought his desire to help was genuine. But he knew Fowley was dirty and he believed her too. I guess he really thought...well I don't know enough about their former relationship to understand why he believed her. But he did. So, I can't shoulder all the guilt. Mulder made his own decisions. At any rate, Krycek was the one who gave Mulder the location of a safe house in the mountains outside Big Stone Gap, Virginia. For better or for worse he believed him too.

There's no time Scully said. No time to meet Mulder and the guys. Mulder had given her the location of the safe house and we were supposed to leave right away and meet him and his three hacker friends there. They had left. Gone. Life as we knew it was soon gone as well. Scully had her own doubts about the advisability of fleeing to that safe house. But, she'd go because she knew Mulder was headed there. On the face of it I wondered how Scully couldn't envision this as the last and ultimate ditch on Mulder's part. Underneath I knew what Mulder was doing. There really proved to be no time and trying to get to Scully might have just endangered them both. I think Scully understood this on a primal level. Strategy was one of her strong points I was to find out time and time again in the future.

I had a few moments to register pleasure at the idea that Mulder trusted me. I know I was relieved that he did. I had to think however, that since he knew Scully was working late he took a chance that I was there too. I supposed I was insurance that Scully would get out safely. In a way, that was flattering as well. I didn't stop to wonder that that if Scully had been with him tonight whether I would have gotten a warning phone call. He had given me that courtesy once before so there was precedence. But...I considered the idea and concluded some things are better left out of your consideration.

I grabbed my extra piece from the bottom drawer of my desk. I normally carried a Glock but this second gun was a Smith and Wesson I'd recently bought. I'd meant to try it out on the firing range that day but ran out of time. There were two boxes of bullets in the drawer. I took those too. The only other things I took from my office were my cell phone, my spare pair of glasses in their case, and my ever present bottle of Exedrin. Funny how you hold onto common every day items in a moment of crisis.

I actually turned out the lights. Can you believe it? I walked past Kim's desk and that was one moment where I had a real twinge of regret and sorrow. My heart sank even as adrenaline flooded into my veins. Kim. God, I should call Kimberly. I didn't even know her home phone number by heart I thought. And there was no time. No time at all as Scully called from the hallway. I did spot the large, sharp, knife-like letter opener she used to open the mail. I swept that up, pocketed it and joined Scully in her headlong rush to evacuate the building.

We did make one side trip before we made our exit - to the firing range. Scully picked up more ammo for her weapon and then we were heading for the parking garage entrance on that floor. I remember as we passed a bank of windows with a view of the street outside the Hoover, we both caught a sight of a large vehicle driving quickly up the Avenue.

Scully's sharp intake of breath was followed by my muttered curse. The vehicle was a National Guard truck. It was shortly followed by a vehicle with FEMA markings on it. The troops were on the move. I touched Scully's arm and inclined my head towards the stairwell. Something told me not to take the elevator just in case. She nodded and we hit the exit door running.

We took my car only because it had smoked glass and we thought that might help to disguise our identities. As it turned out it didn't even get us out of the Hoover building garage.

I remember as we were pulling out however, Scully was frantically trying to reach her mother. The circuits to California were busy. It seemed Margaret Scully and Scully's younger brother, Charles, had gone to San Diego to visit Bill Scully, Jr. and his family for the holiday. Scully finally connected with her brother Bill. It became obvious that something was up in San Diego as well, and just as she was trying to warn him to take everyone and leave for somewhere he might consider safe, the cell phone went dead. We didn't find out until later that the EMP blast had occurred and most unshielded devices or devices not selectively immune were rendered dead as a doornail. I gripped the steering wheel hard and for the second time that night contemplated the idea that someone else I knew and respected might be leaving my life again. I admired Mrs. Scully. I felt great compassion for her daughter that night.

In those few moments my admiration for Dana Scully increased ten fold as well. I watched her rein in the horror that the dead line brought to her heart. I watched her swallow her fear, and turn face forward, her mouth tight. I wanted to say I was sorry but there was no point. I don't think she wanted to hear it as a reminder of what might be happening to her family.

We didn't speak at all about the aborted cell phone call. We were lost in our own thoughts I guess. The next words that were said came from Scully and they quickly drew me out of my reverie

"Sir, they've blocked the exit."

"So I see," I answered grimly.

There was a single Humvee parked crossways in the exit of the parking garage. I had no choice but to insert my key card to raise the gates and drive up to confront the vehicle. Scully sat tensly at my side, her hand on her weapon.

We were stopped dead to rights. That's when we found out there were lists. We were on a list all right. So, I killed two men that night. Well I shot one and killed him outright. A National Guardsman. Scully dropped the other soldier but uncharacteristically for her, didn't get a clean shot. I had to get out of the car and shoot the man in the head to finish him off. Neither one of us has spoken of that incident to this day. I regretted killing two men who probably just thought they were doing their duty. But my duty as I saw it at that point was to survive and help Scully to survive as well. I learned that hard lesson in Nam. It all came back to me that night. For better or worse I was In County, in my own country, I remember thinking bitterly. This was war and it was kill or be killed.

We left my car, took the Humvee as well at the National Guardsmen's rifles and side arms and got out of DC as fast as we could.

We met little resistance in the Humvee. In addition we could hear the chatter over the radio and avoid other patrols. Obviously we quickly surmised some communications weren't disrupted. Scully and I agreed we knew who's hadn't been disrupted and why.

To make a long story short we arrived in Big Stone Gap, Virginia early on July 6th. It took us longer than we would have wanted because we were forced to make a lot of detours as we avoided potential roadblocks along the way. The drive was like a blur to us both. But we got there. We found the safe house relatively easily. It was one of those earth houses. You know, the kind that's half buried in a hillside? The house was in a shambles. There had obviously been a fire fight. Mulder and the Lone Gunmen were no where to be found. But, there was also no blood inside the house and that gave us a shard of hope.

There were belongings from at least a dozen people strewn about the interior. We found John Byer's, wallet. We found Mulder's FBI ID. The other items were mostly from strangers although there were enough MUFON and NICAP membership cards to give us an idea who was hiding out there. We also found one laptop that hadn't been totally crushed in the melee. It hadn't been crushed because it had been carefully placed against the wall under the kitchen table. Scully booted it up and we scanned the files. It was Frohike's laptop and everything was erased from it except for one file dated 11:45 PM July 5th - only the night before. The file brought a wistful smile to Scully's lips. "Hollygolightly" was the rather lengthy file name. I never did get the significance and Scully hasn't explained what brought that wistful smile to her lips.

Frohike was a hacker not a fighter. Correction - he fought back in the best way he knew how - with information. He was typing up to the last minute in the hopes that Scully would find his PC. Mulder, Frohike, Byers and Langly had all been in the house according to the file. So had the scientist Suzanne Modjeski. The rest of the names were unfamiliar but Frohike had thought enough of them all to leave a record of their identities. It was through this file that we also found out about the EMP blast and the fact that this safe house was evidently insulated from it. We also discovered that it was the FBI with a National Guard back-up who had broken in. Since there were no bodies we wanted to assume they had taken them for interrogation or at least wanted them alive for the time being. The final line in the file confirmed this hypothesis. There were only a few terse words. 'Mulder. Nellis Air Force Base' Frohike had typed and then he had filed his message.

I can still almost see Frohike typing under that kitchen table. Hiding back against the wall and some cabinets, perhaps monitoring walkie-talkie transmissions. Gathering data in a desperate attempt to leave us a clue as to what had happened to them all.

Scully took it like a consummate professional. I knew it must have been agony for her to contemplate Mulder's fate. I had a cold feeling of dread in my guts too. A great heaviness in my heart. But, what else could we do? A show of emotion wasn't going to bring Mulder or the Gunmen back and it wasn't going to help us to find them either. We knew where they were headed, at least we knew where Mulder was going. Quite possibly they were all sent to Nellis together. It didn't take us long to realize we should try to follow and attempt a rescue, however foolhardy it might be to try.

Scully insisted on that, "We have to try, sir," she argued quietly. She knew Mulder would do the same for her. In Scully's case it was a persuasive argument since I knew Mulder had rescued her in Antarctica. Even in my case I had to admit Mulder had gone to bat for me - or at least tried. I had to agree with her against my better judgment that yeah, we should go get 'em and damn the danger. The cavalry, no matter how small a troop, was coming. Besides, Frohike's last ditch efforts at reporting their fate begged a response. In the long run, we just figured we didn't have anything else to lose.

We'd been in the safe house about four hours and were preparing to leave with provisions we managed to scavenge, along with the laptop, when I started to feel nauseous. Then I began to vomit.

In a very short time I was doubled over, unable to stand and writhing in pain. Scully managed to get me into one of the back bedrooms and there I spent over 24 hours raging with fever and quite out of my head. Scully had to handcuff me to the bed at one point to prevent me from hurting myself or her. Finally, by the afternoon of July 8th, my fever broke and though weak I was able to sit up and drink some water.

I never asked nor did I want to know how Scully had cared for my bodily needs during my illness. I have no recollection of it. I can only surmise that she relied on her professional distance as a doctor through what must have been for her, terribly awkward as well as frightening hours. I do know I was clean and clad only in a towel wrapped around my waist under the bedspread when I came back to what was currently passing as reality. After I drank some more fluids and had to piss them out I was in for another shock. My piss was blue green.

Scully said there wasn't much she could tell from my urine without the correct testing equipment but she did have a theory for why I was pissing Windex. It was her idea that the EMP blast had destroyed the nanocytes in my blood and my body had been working to eliminate what was left of them. It made sense and if that was the case I was heartily glad they were gone and that I had survived the process.

I marveled at Scully's gentle care while I lay weak and still slightly sick to my stomach. My admiration for her increased again. No wonder Mulder had gone to the ends of the Earth for this woman I thought. She was worth it in my book any day.

Unfortunately my illness caused a delay we probably couldn't afford in terms of finding Mulder and the Gunmen. I wasn't able to travel until July 10th. Scully told me later that I kept yelling for her to "leave me, leave me," during my delirium. I guess I'm not surprised she refused to do it. She's not that kind of person. She backs up her partner. And from that day until the foreseeable future, Walter S. Skinner has been the only partner she's got. Why? Because when we got to Nellis Air Force base it was full of blast craters and nothing else.

AFTER:

February 22, 2000 3 PM. Somewhere up near Aspen, Colorado.

It's snowing a little. We're going to have to find shelter soon. The sun will go down and if we aren't under cover somehow, we'll freeze to death.

But where in the hell will we find shelter? I don't want to have to dig holes in the snow like sled dogs or depend on finding a cave again. Christ. I wish we hadn't lost the Ford SUV. I have no idea where we are. Haven't since we lost the compass, maps and Ford Explorer in Aspen. The only thing I know to do is head, North, to where it's colder by God. They don't like the cold. Bees don't survive this kind of cold either. We may be safe where it's cold. At least we can buy some time where it's colder.

I peer ahead into the dwindling light at the small figure, laden with what's left of her back pack, trudging ahead of me. It's hard to see her determined, plodding pace in the deepening woods, gloom and falling snow.

"Scully, hold up," I call to her quietly, in desperation.

"Sir?" she hisses back, coming to a halt.

"Hold up," I call again, and she hurries back to my side. The rifle slung over her back slaps against her as she skids to a halt in front of me. I grab her arm to steady her.

"Sir, I think I see a building up ahead," she whispers.

"All right, come on," I nod, gesturing in front of us. I adjust my own pack and we take off cautiously towards the building. We stay close together and soon I can see a structure through the trees. We crouch down behind a deadfall and place our heads close together so we can converse.

"Ok, you know the drill," I whisper in her ear.

"Yes, sir," she replies, nodding in affirmation.

I rise up fractionally and start to pull the rifle off my shoulder. Shades of Nam I think. I've thought that almost every time I've made this move over the last months. My rifle the only tool between me and the enemy - except this baby has been modified now - it's no ordinary Nam era issue. It's a fully automatic AK-47 loaded with hollow points. It'll stop anything including the damn clone goon squads that could be patrolling the area if we're unlucky. I grunt with annoyance as the rifle gets hung up on the dead rabbit hanging from my belt. Christ. I'd forgotten about 'Peter', our dinner. Shit, I must be tired I thought. Tired soldiers make mistakes. We really do need to get in and get some rest. I shift and move to walk past Scully. She rises, grabbing my arm.

"Sir...your head...shouldn't...shouldn't I go in first..."

"Scully..." I reply tensly, looking down into her earnest face. "It's because of my head that you shouldn't go in first. I can't...I can't in good conscious allow you to go ahead...what if...what if I can't watch your back?" I mumble at the end.

She nods, realizing my embarrassment and discomfort. The head can't be helped, unfortunately. I gained a new scar on my forehead during an altercation back in Aspen. Scully stitched up the laceration for me so with any luck when the stitches are out it won't leave a large scar. I also sustained a mild concussion which kept us in hiding for two days until Scully felt I could risk going mobile again. She...she kept watch over me during that time...I...I was very grateful. At any rate, I had some blurred vision right after the concussion. I haven't had any since but I'm still loathe to take chances yet in this type of situation.

I also must have lost the bloody compass and maps during the fight in the ski resort. At any rate, after Aspen I didn't have them any more. Shit. Damn scavenging non-coms took our car and most of our supplies, including our tents. We were barely able to salvage our sleeping bags, ammo and weapons - the rifles and our trusty Smith and Wessons. I lost the Glock in, let me think...yeah, Rhinelander, Wisconsin. We lost the Humvee and the laptop there too. Hell. Anyway, when I get back to civilization I'll have to think about finding another compass and some more maps for sure. If we get back to civilization. Right now the only civilization I want to reach is that cabin

"Are we clear then?" I ask her carefully. She nods, taking her rifle down and holding it at the ready. "I'm right behind you," she adds. I used to think she looked...ok...slightly dwarfed holding that AK-47. Who gives a shit - she's a crack shot. Saved my ass in Aspen. I nod curtly, bend low and using the cover of the trees, make my way slowly towards the A-frame style cabin nestled in the woods below us. It's a good sized structure with a central peaked section and two wings, one short and one longer off either side of the center.

The area proves to be deserted so our luck holds for tonight. I pick the locks on the front door relatively easily despite the fact I have to keep warming my hands during the process. Scully continues to cover me while I play cracksman. Once we enter, we're surprised to find the inside of the house in good shape. There's some dust but otherwise it looks like the owners might walk in the door any minute after a day of skiing on one of the nearby slopes. No footprints in the dust on the hardwood floor. A good sign as well.

I shut the door and bolt it behind us, slamming down the wooden plank that also acts to seal someone in once they've gained entrance. I have to wonder why that was installed here. Bears? Who the hell knows. But it's comforting to know the door's secure at least. A quick check of the back door shows a similar arrangement with the bar already down. All in all it's a fairly secure position except maybe for the windows that front the structure. They do have some kind of insulated shades and curtains on them however, and they're pulled tightly shut.

We end up in the great room. Since it's an A-Frame there's a straight shot view up to the ceiling. Up above, overlooking the great room, is what looks like a sleeping loft. The downstairs consists of the open concept living room and dining room. The kitchen is a larger room down a short hallway to the right side. There's another hallway in the opposite direction leading to a small study, extra small bedroom and the bathroom. We reconnoiter it all quickly as a precaution. No one's home. No one has been home since summer we guestimate.

It's growing a bit darker inside as we take assessment of our surroundings. The late winter dusk is fast approaching. We'll need to find heat and light very soon. Scully is removing her pack, and rifle, weariness in her every movement. The rush of excitement is wearing off. She props the pack up against the end of the couch and sets the rifle beside it. She removes her gloves and tosses them on the couch. Her hands go up to her head and pull down her parka hood. She starts to pull off her goggles and insulated face mask.

"I'd better see if there's some gas in that generator," I suggest. We had seen the generator when we cased the place. I would have checked it immediately but getting inside out of the elements had a slightly higher priority. Removing my own pack stiffly I set it down next to the dining room table, and stretch a little. I pull dinner off my belt and lay the unskinned rabbit on the table top. My rifle goes next to it.

"I can help outside..." she volunteers immediately, reaching for her gloves. They go back on. Her hood goes back up.

I consider the idea. The area seemed deserted but you never know. I guess I'd appreciate the back up despite the fact she looks like she's more than ready to sit down and take a load off her feet.

"You sure you don't want to stay in here and keep warm?" I query in a half hearted manner.

"I'm fine. I should watch your back," Scully replies.

The tried and true response. I suspect in part it's out of loyalty, respect, or what have you, that she insists on pulling her weight and backing me up. Besides, Dana Scully has way too much integrity and strength to give up. But deep down I know she's telling herself 'If I'd only been there to back up Mulder. If only I'd been there'. Well sure, she'd be wherever the hell Mulder is now, or dead or worse. And who the hell knows where I might be at this point. So, I ignore that look of guilt that lurks in the back of her eyes and nod appreciatively at her professionalism. It helps us to get along.

She nods again, acknowledging my unspoken agreement. We reach into our parkas and draw our Smith and Wessons from their shoulder holsters. The safeties click off. We head for the kitchen. We need to go outside to the back of the house where the generator is located.

A quick examination shows us the generator might function - if there was any gasoline. The tank is empty. The larger gas tank nearby is empty too. There isn't even a gas can anywhere nearby with a supply of fuel. So, we can bag the generator idea. No heat or light unless...I tap Scully on the shoulder and incline my head towards the back door.

It's odd but so much of our communication has become nonverbal over the past months. I taught her signals I remembered from the war, both sounds and hand gestures. She taught me a few she learned years ago hunting with her uncle. We can convey more with a flick of the head and a hand movement than some people can in an entire conversation, I guess. Scully's lips purse and she turns without question and returns to the shelter of the A-frame. I enter the kitchen behind her

and shut the door against the cold.

Wordlessly we both walk into the great room and zero in on the obvious focal point in there. I can tell, even in the growing darkness, that Scully's smiling a little.

"You're wondering if we should light it, aren't you? she whispers, her breath showing in the air. I set the safety on my gun and slip the gun back in my holster. Scully is standing in front of the couch in the living room area staring into the cold expanse of the massive fireplace that takes up almost all of one wall. She holsters her weapon as well.

"It had crossed my mind, yes," I reply with a sigh.

"Why don't you, sir? What are the alternatives anyway? I can hunt around and see if there's any candles, or flashlights as well," she suggests, turning to glance over her shoulder at me.

I let the idea play around in my mind for a few moments. Alternatives? Hell yeah, we'd better light it up. Light it or freeze our fucking asses off. We hadn't seen anyone since we left Aspen days ago. No clones, no collaborators, and no non-coms - I mean more of those scared shitless Coloradans looking for food and cover. We hadn't even heard a peep out of the so-called resistance who were purported to be in the mountains near here. The resistance we were told had a tall, lanky leader who just might be Fox Mulder. We certainly hadn't seen any grays so the theory that Mulder had long ago come up with regarding their desire for warmer temperatures seemed to be holding up. Lighting the fire would be a risk but shit...I was cold, wet, tired and not ready to freeze to death. No, I'm willing to risk the comfort tonight. I'm sure Scully is as well.

"Yeah, we're going to freeze in here if we don't build a fire. I'll light it up. Good idea on the candles," I finally answer, smiling tentatively at her.

She grins a little and leaves the front of the fireplace, heading off in the direction of the kitchen. She stops and starts to remove her outer clothing - gloves first again. She has to sit down on one of the dining room tables chairs to remove her boots. I watch her wrinkle her noise slightly as she places the boots under the table. Next she removes the parka, insulated face mask, goggles and thermal snow pants. She lays all the items over the chair back. I notice she takes the shoulder holster and puts it on again though. I nod with satisfaction to see she realizes it's better to be safe than sorry. When she's done she walks over and checks a few drawers in a cabinet. She comes up empty with the drawers and walks on out of my sight down the short hall and into the kitchen.

As I watch her exit, wearing only her basic black sweater, insulated leggings and white insulated socks, it occurs to me that I haven't seen Scully in days. I mean seen her without all the insulated layers. I'd almost forgotten the look of her soft, red hair I muse. I try to shake off where that train of thought is heading. Nope. Rein those errant thoughts in about Scully being an attractive woman. About being a woman at all. Jesus. I can't let myself slip that way or we may have a complication here that wouldn't be advisable under the circumstances.

Because yeah, I know she's a woman. I respect the hell out of her as a woman and as a human being for everything she's done for me along this trek. My respect for her has taken us way past the superior subordinate thing. I see her as an equal now - even if she still does defer to me at times and calls me sir. She's proved herself a friend and that she cares many times over. She's been one hell of a fellow soldier in every fight we've been involved in too. Kept going at all costs. I mean I could go on but you get the picture.

Since July, when we were thrown together I've grown to care about her. As hard as I've tried to keep that caring on a more impersonal level it's not an easy thing to do. She's a beautiful, intelligent, compassionate woman - and she's got balls. All that appeals to me on a very deep, basic level. Under other circumstances...I'd as the old saying goes 'pay her court'...as in make a play for her.

Hey, even I have my fantasies - no matter how idiotic. This one is a really moronic dream and I need to squash it. I'd have to be delusional if I didn't see she's already taken. I mean come on...who the hell do you think we've been searching for here? And why? I don't know if she and Mulder were actually involved but hell, they had everything else together you can have besides sex...even the bickering. Crap...sometimes they sounded like an old married couple when they sat in my office. So, even though Scully and I haven't even broached that subject - I know she loves Mulder - in some profound way. She's loyal to that partnership too. I can't in good conscious come between them. I...but shit...I can't say I wouldn't at least like to find out if...well forget it.

No, I've got to just think of her as a colleague...a crack agent and good soldier only. It's not a smart thing to be thinking otherwise, old man. Not good at all. I turn away and tell myself to get down to business.

I remove my gloves, parka and my own Thinsulate and Gortex hood and goggles, throwing them all on the couch. I leave on my shoulder holster as well. I sit down for a moment, unbuckle and untie my insulated boots and pull them off. The smell nearly knocks me over. Christ all mighty. If Scully's feet smelled this bad, no wonder she wrinkled her nose. I could really use a shower. I set my mouth in a grim line and feel my jaw. A shave too even though I know the beard I've grown is partly a concession to the cold. I shrug, and standing up, pull off my insulated snow pants and add them to the rather odoriferous pile of clothing. Thinking better of putting the smelly heap on the couch, I shove it onto the floor.

Man, now that we're indoors a shower might be a necessity. The cold had obviously been killing the smell. My rankness is repulsing me. I hate to think I'd offend Scully. I laugh a little at that thought when I remember she must have seen and smelled a lot worse from me when I was sick in Virginia. And at any rate, if her wrinkled nose was any indication, she thinks she needs to bathe as well. Well...it can't be helped unless we can rig up a shower. I table the idea for more important matters. I take my clothing and hang it all over the back of a chair near where Scully's draped her clothing.

Finally, I turn my attention to the fireplace. Luckily there's plenty of wood stacked to the side of the stone mantle so neither of us has to venture back outside into the cold to fetch any. I find some long matches in a container on top of the mantle. The striker for same is on the side of the wooden box. In fairly short order I've checked the flu and adjusted it, piled the logs up in the hearth and lit some tinder using an old Farmer's almanac that was lying on the coffee table in front of the couch.

When Scully returns with a box of white dinner table candles and two glass holders I'm a trifle embarrassed because I'm warming my jeans and long underwear clad ass in the fires heat. She places the candles and holders down on the coffee table. Then she pulls something from the waistband in back of her pants. A flashlight. She clicks it on.

"Let there be light," she smiles.

"Let there be heat," I gesture with my head at the fire. I keep rubbing my butt. It just feels too good to worry about whether it looks PC or not.

Scully chuckles, "Well that looks like a good idea to me too."

"There's room," I answer a trifle gruffly to cover my chagrin at having her see me rubbing my butt. I shift over a little. She turns off the flashlight and places it next to the candles on the coffee table. She walks over and slides in next to me, unabashedly mimicking my movements. My lips twitch in a grin. Trust Scully to adopt that old adage about 'When in Rome'. Both of us are doing our best not to let on that we can smell the other's body odor. I'd laugh if it wasn't so pathetic. It's like we're still operating under Bureau protocol. I can't help but grin a little wider at that thought. I let my attention wander towards the kitchen.

"Any food in the kitchen?" I ask. I know she looked. One of our new operational rules - make sure there are some provisions.

"As a matter of fact, sir, we've lucked out. It looks like they'd stocked up on canned goods and then...well...I guess they had to leave in a hurry. There's quite a bit left."

I nod. "We could stay here for a few days then I think. The snow may amount to something and we should wait until it slacks off. We can use the rest anyway."

"Sir..." Scully begins to object.

"Scully, listen. I could use the rest. Seriously. I...I'd like to give my head a couple of days to make me feel more reliable here, all right? I know...I know you want to push on and find the rebel encampment but..."

"No, I'm sorry...of...of course. You're right. We should take a couple of days here. It's advisable," she replies quietly.

"Thank you," I rumble, moving away from the fireplace towards the couch, "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to uh...growl," I add.

It took me a lot to admit I'm all in. Stupid I know, but after all this time I still don't like to show weakness in front of her. I was a little more terse than I meant to be but I'm just plain tired and I guess the embarrassment got to me too.

"That's all right," Scully graces me with a small, understanding smile, "to tell you the truth, sir, I wouldn't mind hibernating for a few days myself."

I smile back at her.

"Sir, if you'll excuse me," she gestures towards the wing with the bathroom. She leaves the front of the fireplace and goes to the coffee table. She retrieves the flashlight and turns it on.

"Oh, sorry, yes," I nod and look down as she walks away. When I look up, I notice her shoulders are sagging a little further and I think it's more than fatigue dragging them down. I decide to sit down on the couch for a few minutes until she returns. I'd like to allow the fire to warm me further. I rub up under my glasses, massaging my eyes. When I take my hand away I lean my head back against the couch and shut my eyes to rest them. My mind wanders and I think about Scully and why we're here.

I know she still holds out hope we'll find Mulder. I guess I do too. Since we came up dry at Nellis all we've had is hope and rumor to keep us going. Nellis was a fucking shock to both of us really. I mean we were all worked up with a possible plan to rescue him and the Lone Gunmen too for that matter, when we came upon the ruins of the base. Later an Air Force deserter told us that the prisoners had managed their own monkey wrench at Ellis. A lot of people were killed but many captives got away free and clear, including some wounded. He wasn't able to tell us whether Mulder or the Lone Gunmen were among the wounded, dead or the living. We hung around there for a week waiting to see if any of them surfaced from the surrounding hills, but no one did. We finally had to leave when the National Guard moved in with a whole new batch of unlucky list members.

It was obvious the base was being made into some kind of concentration camp. It was Scully who pointed out the cyrogenic tubes and told me of their usage. We decided it would be best to pull out and head North. We figured Mulder and the Gunmen might have gone North since the agent had always been adamant about the grays hating the cooler temperatures. God knows they were moving in enough refrigeration and AC units at Nellis. So, we believed at the time, that he was right.

We did pick up his trail a couple of times - or so we thought. We heard of Mulder in the pockets of civilization that were still found out there. Clusters of community mostly found above the frostline and clinging to what humanity they had left. Often times these communities would drive us away. But, sometimes they'd be hospitable and try to help us, even re-supplying us. Once we even found a dentist who was able to fill one of my back teeth. Often these groups of isolated John and Jane Q Publics were hungry for news and rife with rumors.

Many of these rumors told of a wounded rebel leader who recovered and came up out of the West to wreck havoc and then faded back into the woodwork after striking a blow against the invaders. It was appealing to think it was Mulder. We investigated every lead. It was incredible because one rumor lead us back across the U.S to Rhinelander, Wisconsin. Rhinelander was where I lost my Glock as I said. Our first near miss with the clones and their collaborators lost me my piece and the Humvee as well, unfortunately. The one good thing I lost was Kimberly Cook's letter opener. I left her letter opener sticking out of a dead collaborators throat after I beat him off Scully. We were lucky to get out alive.

But, we did, and we kept hearing additional rumors. Eventually, Scully and I commandeered someone's abandoned Ford Explorer and headed back out West, hot on what we hoped was Mulder's trail. That trip led us to Aspen and the information that there might be a rebel base in the surrounding mountains. We kept going despite so many unanswered questions. First and foremost amongst them being why wasn't Mulder or the Lone Gunmen tracking us, trying to contact us if they were out there? We didn't want to think about the answer to that question.

The obvious answer was that they weren't out there and all of them were dead. But of course, there were always other possibilities - however remote - like shock or injury induced memory loss - or memory loss that was induced in a more...insidious way. Maybe someone told them we were dead. You could make a case for those ideas. I listened to Scully expound on some of those theories and nodded in agreement all the while thinking how much like Mulder she sounded when she expounded on them. I agreed with her to both keep the peace between us, bolster her moral and keep us going.

I wasn't sure however how much longer I could do it. Soon I felt like we should try to ally ourselves with some rebel group or another if for nothing else than our own protection. Being alone on the road was becoming way too risky. We needed force of numbers to remain safe. I was also beginning to feel a need to do something - fight back somehow. I respected her desire to search for her partner but I was getting anxious to join in the monkey wrenching myself - no matter how futile it may prove to be in the long run.

So, now I'll be happy to find any rebel base as soon as we can if one's really out there. I want to know if Mulder's still alive as much as Scully does. Actually I want to find out what happened to him period. Dead or alive I just want to settle the issue at this point. I'm tired of being a traveling man. Weary of being half a partnership when the other half is used to someone else filling the partnership shoes. I know...well as much as I'd like it to be otherwise...I know I'm not exactly going to take Mulder's place. I...I shouldn't even be entertaining that idea. It's not a very productive one. I have to admit once again that it's a mistake to think Scully might see me...as anything other than her boss or if I'm lucky, friend and compatriot. Over all these months I haven't seen evidence to the contrary...well once or twice I thought - but no...why bother even going there. Like I said - it's just a fantasy.

Yes, we'll continue to look for Mulder here near Aspen at least. He deserves nothing less. And...well Scully deserves nothing less too. But, tomorrow or the next day will be soon enough to move on. In the meantime I feel tired, sore and unsure enough of my physical condition that I really want to just hole up for a few days. I guess I feel like a bear wanting to hibernate too. In any event I'm in serious need of replenishing my will to carry on and a couple of days of relative comfort just might do the trick.

Thoughts of the warm fire and a meal of rabbit stew are the last thoughts I have before I drift off to sleep. The next thing I'm aware of is someone coming up behind me. I whirl around on the couch, gun drawn and propped up on the couch back.

"Christ!" I shout in alarm.

"Sir! You...you fell asleep...I..." Scully yelps in alarm, her hands up in the air.

"God, Scully, I'm sorry. Crap. I...how fucking stupid...shit."

God damn that was close. How more incredibly feeble minded can I get here? Jesus God it's just lucky I've got some reaction time left or I would have shot her. I'm breathing hard as I holster my weapon again.

"Damn, I..."

"It's all right, sir. Really."

I look in her eyes and count myself lucky. My heart's beating like a jackhammer. Well I guess I can't kick myself too much. We're in what passes for a secure environment at the moment. But still...I should have been more alert. Being fast on the draw is fine but it's not fine to kill your fellow soldier. Yeah, friendly fire isn't where it's at, Walter. I nod at Scully and turn back to the fire to hide my chagrin.

"I...I didn't realize you were asleep, sir. Otherwise..."

"No, it's not your fault, Scully. I should have been more alert."

She comes around the end of the couch and faces me. I notice she's holding a large pot from the kitchen.

"Sir, we're both tired and I think this place is secure enough that we can risk getting some sleep without setting up a watch tonight. I can lay out the alarms anyway. If someone trips one of those screamers we'll have plenty of warning."

"Yeah, no shit," I smile tersly, "I guess you're right. We can probably get some shut eye without taking watch shifts. But, let's set up the alarms. Good thinking again, Scully."

We've 'liberated' a lot of stuff from abandoned stores in our travels. Stealing we used to call it. Now it's a matter of survival and our former rolls as law enforcement officers have taken a back seat to self preservation. We 'liberated' a bunch of personal purse alarms from a store in Akron Ohio. You know the kind of alarm that shrieks like hell during a purse snatching? Well we discovered they can be adapted very nicely to scream bloody murder if someone opens a window or door. So, we'll set those out after a while when we want to finally bed down for the night.

Scully smiles and we stare at each other for a moment. For one second I let my eyes roam over her face. My regard holds something other than just camaraderie for one brief moment. She looks particularly lovely in the flickering firelight. I catch myself but not before I notice her look down briefly under my scrutiny. Damn it. I set my face back into a more neutral expression. When she looks back up I notice something pass across her face as she looks at me...I can see...some kind of soft feeling there. I think it's probably compassion for me in her face. Compassion? God. But what if...no, not what if. No way. I swallow hard and incline my head towards the pot, looking to get our minds off our feelings here.

"Is that a hint that I should get dinner ready?" I ask teasing her a little.

She chuckles, glancing down at the pot.

"No...but that's not a bad idea - as I recall it is your turn."

I smile and nod.

"Yeah, you had the unenviable privilege of dissecting that possum..."

"Let's not go there," she shakes here head, laughing a little harder.

"Why not...I would have thought you'd like to boast a little about your talents as a forensic pathologist after..."

"Oh Lord, I'll never live that down will I?"

"Ok, I'll give you a break Doctor Scully. But really, if not dinner, what's with the pot?"

Then it dawns on me. She'd been to the bathroom. I can see her divine what's on my mind almost as I think it. We've become oddly simpatico that way as well. I have to wonder if this is what made her mesh so well with Mulder. Her ability to develop an almost psychic bond with a partner? Partner? Yeah right. I flatter myself.

"The toilet..." she gestures towards the bathroom with the pot.

"Right. If we fill a few pots up with snow and let them melt by the fire we can dump them down the toilet to flush it into the septic," I finish her thought.

"Exactly. Would you like to participate in this operation?" she gives me a wry expression.

"I've dug latrines in my day, Scully. Hauling water for one isn't going to bother me," I laugh.

She laughs too and as I rise to help her I get a whiff of eau du Skinner again. Damn. Another thought jumps instantly into my mind.

"You know if we can find a couple of buckets I'm thinking some additional hot water might not be a bad idea. I could really use a bath - even a sponge bath'd be better than nothing."

She grimaces, "I have to agree with you there. I was just thinking that dinner isn't the only gamey thing in this room."

I let out a barking laugh and move to pull on my boots again.

"Why don't we get dressed and see if we can rustle us up some hot bath water, ma'am."

"Sounds like a plan to me, sir."

xXx

Later, four pots, three large ones and one smaller, and two buckets are sitting in front of the fireplace. The snow is melting in them quite quickly. We've decided on making some drinking water as well so I have a pot that's melting naturally so the water will remain cooler. We can fill our canteens from that pot too so I have them set out for attention later. The fire is really blazing and it's making the room nice and cozy. We discovered an arrangement in the fireplace for suspending a pot over the flames. Clearly the owners of this house used this fireplace to cook over on more than one occasion. The pot over the flames idea made rabbit stew the main dish on our dinner menu.

So, Scully's resting on the couch after setting up the purse alarms, catching some shut eye. I took a piss and then headed for the kitchen. I'm finally skinning the rabbit. Peter must have been eating well. He's a plump son of a bitch. More than a meal for two people with the stuff I want to add to the pot. I'm about to make a search through the cabinets to see what else I can find to make a decent stew.

Scully told me about hunting with her brothers and her uncle when she was a kid. My father used to take me hunting as well. I remember his mother, my grandmother Skinner, had an excellent recipe for rabbit stew. It was kind of a improvised stew really, and that was what was good about it. You could throw just about anything into the pot - add a little flour if you liked, and her secret ingredient - cooking sherry and viola - a rib sticking, hearty hunters stew. I smile when I find the uncorked bottle of Marsala wine in one cabinet. Looks like grandma Skinner's recipe might just be a possibility after all.

After I round up some canned vegetables, some dried mushrooms and flour, I collect the cut up rabbit meat and put it in a frying pan. I'd better try to brown the meat a little over the fire before I put it in one of the four pots. I locate some dried onion flakes inside a spice cabinet attached to the wall. I've picked out a few more spices I thought might add some flavor. Salt, pepper, thyme, bay leaves. I even managed to find some beef bouillon to add more flavor. I guess it's going to take me a couple of trips from the kitchen to the fireplace to assemble the ingredients and utensils for this meal. But...I feel a little energized over the prospect of actually fixing something decent to eat for a change - Scully's culinary skills with the possum notwithstanding.

On my first trip out I take the rabbit and bottle of wine along with some long wooden spoons to use as ladles and a dish towel tucked under my arm. I cross past the couch and place the frying pan, spoons, towel and bottle down on the hearth stone. When I turn around I can see Scully lying asleep, her head pillowed on one arm. I straighten up and just watch her for a few moments. She...man she really does look fantastic despite the road grime and lack of a shower. I run my hand over my mouth and tamp down the almost overwhelming warmth that spreads through my body. But, I can't help the smile that plays about my lips. I glance back at the bottle of wine. You know a couple of glasses of wine would go great with the stew I think. I decide to bring some glasses out from the kitchen too.

At last I have all my meal preparations ready. I'm sitting cross legged on the hearth stone browning the rabbit over the fire, when I hear Scully stir.

"Oh...that smells good," she murmurs.

"Yeah...I was just thinking that myself," I reply smiling but not looking back at her.

"Better than that possum," I hear her mumble. I chuckle.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" I ask , turning to glance at her over my shoulder. She's stretching a little, but at my question, she raises an eyebrow.

"Wine?"

I nod towards the bottle and two glasses on the hearth, "I found that in a cupboard in the kitchen. I want to add it to the stew but there's more than enough for us each to have a glass or two."

"I'll pour," she answers and I can hear the smile in her voice as I turn back around to tend to the skillet. I smile inwardly and the warm feeling returns with the thought that I've pleased her.

She stands next to me on the hearth after she's poured the wine. I sip from my glass and she sips from hers. I flip the meat one more time in the pan. It's almost cooked through. We make small talk. Nothing too personal. We joke a little about my cooking. She ends up by agreeing that it may actually be better than many meals she's had on the road. Finally she sits down but at the other end of the stone expanse. We continue to talk. She tells me a story about an old hunting dog her uncle used to own. I tell her about the first black bear I ever saw in the wild - and how I couldn't shoot it because I was both awed and too scared shitless at 14 to pull the trigger. We look at each other off and on during our conversation, a little shyly I guess. I keep seeing sparks of something in her eyes that I interpret as a sincere desire to share with me. It can't be easy and I value her doing it a great deal. I mean even after nearly 7 years on the job and nearly 8 months in the field together trying to survive, we really don't know each other that well. Sharing like this isn't easy on either of us really, even now.

I keep wondering why she won't move closer however. I mean I won't bite. Then it dawns on me and I shake my head a little in bemusement. Ok, I know why Scully isn't sitting next to me at the hearth. Even with the cooking smells we can still smell each other. Finally I turn and look over at her.

"Listen, Scully...if you want to take a bath before dinner..."

She snorts her laughter, "Sorry, but yes, I really would. I guess we'd have to sit across the room from each other if we were really going to enjoy this meal if I don't, wouldn't we?"

"Yeah. I'd think smelling me you wouldn't know if you were eating rabbit or goat," I rumble a returning laugh.

"You sure you don't want to go first?" she asks, continuing to laugh at my joke.

"No, go ahead. I can get this a little further along and then you can keep an eye on it while I take mine."

"All right, thank you," she gets herself under control, and puts her wine down on the hearth. I nod and then ostensibly turn my attention back to the rabbit.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Scully go to her pack and open it. I know each of us has one clean change of clothing left. Maybe we can at least wash a few things out here in the sink later if we heat up some more water. I don't look forward to not being able to have any clean clothes for the duration. Of course we could raid the sleeping loft or back bedroom and see if the owners left anything that fits. I turn back and watch Scully pull out a pair of jeans, clean insulated socks, an oversized sweater and long john pants. She considers the long john pants for a moment and slips them back inside. Yeah, the room's warm enough now she won't need them. I intend to keep my clean pair in reserve after my shower as well. Somewhere in the back of my mind a voice is whispering, she's not taking out any more underwear, Walter. I silence the voice with an inner roar.

Scully throws the change of clothing over her shoulder and goes to pick up two of the pot holders that I left lying on the hearth next to the pots. She uses them to pick up one of the buckets near the fire.

"Can you manage that and the flashlight?" I ask a little concerned.

"I think so."

If I ask to help with the bucket I know she'll be annoyed at me. I've learned over the months that Scully does not need or want my help in this type of situation. If she does she asks for it with a great deal of reluctance. I guess we have that bull headed independence in common. But the last thing I'd want her to do is spill hot water on herself.

"Still, why don't I light the way, at least," I offer.

"Ok, that would be fine," she nods, hefting up the bucket full of hot water.

I get up, leaving the skillet on the hearth and cross to the coffee table to retrieve the flashlight and the lit candle in it's holder that I had used in the kitchen. I gesture for Scully to lead the way and shine the flashlight over her head as she walks towards the hall and the bathroom beyond.

When we reach the bathroom door I open it for her and escort her inside. It's not too cold back here, thankfully. Some heat from the fireplace has reached this area of the cabin. Scully carefully places the bucket down in the bathtub, turns and reaches for the flashlight. When I hand it to her our fingers accidentally entwine and I bobble the flashlight, almost dropping it. I pull the candle back to avoid dumping wax on her hand.

"Shit," I hiss.

"S'ok, got it," she whispers, juggling it in close to her body. It hits her in the chest and comes to rest there. I can't help it, my eyes are drawn directly to her tits. I'm staring...I'm staring at her erect nipples...oh brother.

We stop a moment and there's dead silence. She looks up and follows my eyes. She notices where I'm staring and I can see...is that a trick of the shadows or did she smile a little? Before I'm sure, she ducks her head and I figure instead that I've embarrassed her.

"Sorry...uh...I'll go take care of the food," I reply, snatching my eyes away while trying to avoid her eyes.

"All right. I'll be back soon," she replies, concentrating on moving the flashlight down into her hand

"Take your time," I reply, ducking my head a little. I leave as quickly as I can mentally kicking myself in the ass for being a total buffoon as I go.

I shut the bathroom door behind me, fleeing for the safety of the fireplace hearth. Christ what the hell is wrong with me? Oh come on, isn't it obvious? I haven't been with a woman in ages. Correction - I haven't been with a woman sexually in ages. I've been in close proximity to a gorgeous, compassionate, brilliant one for months...months in which we've been fighting for our lives, a situation which usually forces people closer together. We've been scraping for turf, practically living out of each others pockets, and I've deliberately thought of her as only a soldier, a battle buddy. It's been months where I've denied she was a woman in a deliberate attempt to keep our relationship more impersonal as a matter of fact. Now - we have a moment to relax and...my hitherto dormant libido is coming back with a vengeance. What wonderful adolescent timing, Walter. God. Talk about bad timing.

And bad timing or not I could at least try to hide it a little better couldn't I? What the hell is she going to think about my drooling over her breasts like that. Breasts? I seem to remember referring to them as tits didn't I? God, I need a reality check here.

I shake my head. I give my mind a really good shake to rid myself of the arousal that's warming my groin. I go back to the skillet and pots of water to finish the stew. I'm keyed up though. I pick up my wine and take a long swig of it, hoping it will calm me down. After I set the glass down on the mantelpiece, I pull the smallest pot of water over. This is the pot I filled specially for the stew. I sit down and start to add the ingredients to the water, determinably putting Scully out of my mind.

I have to swing out the long pole from the fireplace in order to get the pot over the hook at the end of it. It shouldn't take long for the stew to cook. Once the pot's steady I swing the pole back over the flames, and go to sit down on the couch. I just let my mind go blank as I watch the flames dance.

It isn't long before I hear a toilet flush. Then Scully's coming down the hallway from the bathroom. She's humming some classical air, I think it's a little Mozart, as she's walking. I let my mouth quirk in a smile. She's going to make sure I don't draw on her again isn't she? Well not a bad idea I guess. God, we are both just so on edge. We could use a week here more than just a couple of days.

When she comes into the great room, dressed in her faded jeans and black sweater I stand to greet her, smoothing out my own jeans. I know both actions are reflexes born of days sitting behind a desk in the Hoover. Still, she merits my standing...more than merits the polite gesture. She's still toweling her hair dry with one hand, and carrying the flashlight with the other. I take in a breath and let it out slowly.

"I found some soap and extra towels in that small linen closet in there. I...I laid some out for you," she says, gesturing back over her shoulder. She walks to the couch, turns off the flashlight and puts it down on the coffee table, "I left the empty bucket in the bathroom. I'll fill it again after dinner." She walks the short distance to the couch and plops down on the seat, continuing to dry her hair.

I smile at her, "Great. Uh...thanks on the towels and soap. I'm really looking forward to this."

"It really did feel fantastic to get clean. So, go on ahead. I can watch the stew."

"You'll need to use that pole arrangement to move the pot away from the fire. Stir it in a little while. It should be fine."

"I see it comes right over the fire screen, doesn't it?"

"Exactly."

"All right, I can manage it. Enjoy your bath."

"Thanks," I reply. My stomach growls loudly and she laughs.

"I imagine you won't be long."

"You've got that right," I nod, going to my pack to haul out my other pair of jeans, socks and the forest green L.L. Bean sweater I found in Aspen before the shit hit the fan. I do happen to have a clean pair of boxer briefs. I pull those out too. I throw my clothes over my shoulder, mimicking Scully's earlier maneuver. I cross back to the hearth and pick up my own bucket of hot water.

"Should I light 'your' way?" Scully asks quietly as I walk to the coffee table.

"Uh, no. I think I'll be fine," I murmur looking down at the bucket. No, I don't need help in making a fool out of myself again I think.

"All right. Later then."

"Later," I reply as I head off towards the bathroom.

In the bathroom I place my bucket in the tub where Scully had put hers before. I lay my clothes and the flashlight on the vanity and move to the toilet. I lift the lid up, unzip and take out my dick. As I'm pissing I look up into the mirror fronting the medicine cabinet that hangs over the back of the toilet.

I grimace. God, I look like shit. Well not shit exactly. I look like...yeah, I look like crap. The lucky seven stitches in my scalp near where my hairline used to be don't help much. Hey, but at least my glasses are intact. I haven't had to even resort to my spare pair - which is a miracle really. Of course the band I've attached from one bow to the other stretches around the back of my head and keeps them in place. No, the main reason I look like a derelict is this beard.

I haven't grown a beard in years and now I know why. It's come in salt and pepper I muse. Well I am 47 after all. I guess it's to be expected - some gray hair. It wouldn't be so bad if my chin didn't have this one really gray stripe down the middle. Hell - my chin looks like a skunk's hind end. As I'm shaking off I tell myself - warmth or not - the beard's got to go. I don't stop to acknowledge the thought that it isn't so much personal pride that's making me shave it off - it's wanting to 'dress of dinner'. It's...wanting to look good for Scully at dinner. I rearrange my cock in my jeans, zip up, and decide to make a quick search in the hopes someone left a razor in the bathroom.

I do manage to find a package of Lady Schick razors and a pair of scissors which I can use to trim off the excess beard hair first. I can even give myself a bit of a haircut too. It's been a while since I've trimmed that fringe that passes for hair these days. I don't locate any shaving cream. I hate to shave with soap lather but it won't be the first time I've done it. I'll make do. I take my glasses off and set them on the vanity. I unstrap my shoulder holster and lay it next to my glasses. I reach down and pull off my grimy sweatshirt and long john t-shirt and lay them on the vanity too. I study my face in the vanity mirror and pick up the scissors. Lucky this is a Halogen flashlight. If it wasn't so bright I might cut my nose off.

After a very careful clipping, and then an equally deliberate shave my face looks a hell of a lot better. I managed to trim my hair without cutting off an ear as well. I only slipped up once with the razor and sliced one tiny nick under my earlobe. After I dab at the blood with the washcloth then apply pressure to staunch it, I'm ready to strip off the rest of my clothes. Let me tell you...peeling off clothing you've been wearing for I don't even want to think of how long...is not a picnic. I definitely want to try to wash these somehow. If I can't they'll be able to stand up and walk behind me on the trail when we leave this place.

Finally I'm standing there naked, and I pick up the flashlight, shining the beam over my crotch. I take a look over my body, starting where there's hair, checking for any little hitchhikers. Yeah, we're always checking for lice. So far we've been lucky. I had them in Nam once and they're hell to eradicate. I don't find any many legged opportunists crawling around. I put the flashlight down on the toilet seat so it will point into the tub. It's when I'm doing this I see a woman's watch on the vanity near where I laid my clothes. I reach and pick it up. I recognize it as Scully's watch. It's gold. I finger it, thinking of it circling her wrist and how delicately beautiful it looks there. I should take it out to her I consider, turning it over in my fingers. The back is engraved and as I read the inscription, my throat grows tight.

To Dana From Mom
Happy Birthday
February 23, 1999

Christ, tomorrow's her birthday and last year, her mother...before...my jaw clenches. Shit. She hadn't said a thing about it being her birthday tomorrow. Well, why would she? It's not like we're going to exchange gifts. Why didn't I remember that from her file, though? Because I was too busy trying to stay one step ahead of the grim reaper? It's one excuse I guess. But still if I'd known I could have...could have what Walter? Baked her a fucking cake? Well...maybe at least planned on wishing her many happy returns. Made her day a little relaxing or something. Looked around the house for another bottle of wine? Ah, who knows. Just something, anything to make it a more normal day she could remember with some pleasure for a change.

But maybe she didn't want to be reminded about the day and that's why she didn't say anything. The engraving on this watch serves to show that she probably doesn't want to be reminded of her last birthday for sure. Damn. A small knock on the door brings me out of my dismal reverie.

"Yes?" I ask, coughing back my emotion.

"Uh, sorry to bother you. Did I leave my watch in there, sir?" Scully calls through the door.

"Yes...yes you did," I call back

"Oh, that's ok then. Um, could you bring it when you come back out?"

"No problem."

"Thank you," she replies more quietly, "the stew looks wonderful, sir," she adds, her voice struggling to sound more cheerful.

"My...pleasure. Glad to hear about the stew. I'll be out soon," I answer keeping my voice light.

"All right," she replies, "I'm going to throw another log on the fire," she adds. I hear her padding back down the hallway into the great room.

I sigh and place the watch carefully back down on the vanity next to my sweatshirt. I decide not to mention the birthday unless Scully does. Instead I'll just try to make tomorrow a good day for her. Maybe cook up something tasty for tomorrow nights dinner. I thought I saw some deer tracks on the way to this cabin. If I could shoot a deer we'd have venison for days. I'll have to give it some thought. I nod, deciding to do just that later on, and pick up the bar of Dial soap and washcloth.

I pad across the short space and climb over the side of the tub. I place the soap and washcloth on the side and stand there for a moment. I soon decide that about the easiest way to take my bath is to squat ingloriously on my haunches in front of the bucket. I lower myself down, my balls swinging towards the porcelain bottom of the tub. I reach for the soap and washcloth and dip them both into the bucket. The first scrub of soapy hot water over my scalp feels like heaven.

It doesn't take me long to scrub all over and then rinse myself off out of the bucket. In the end, I pour some of it straight over my head and sluice off the last of the soap. I carefully climb out of the tub and set the bucket on the floor next to it for a second. I raise up the toilet, lift the bucket up and dump the remaining water into the toilet bowl. After flushing the can, I put the bucket down next to Scully's empty one. I can take them both back out with me when I go.

The towel Scully left for me is a dusty blue. I shake it out and then start to quickly dry myself off in a business like fashion. I've avoided touching myself between the legs except in a business like way for a long time. Tonight it's paramount. I don't want to stir up anything exciting in that area. Nope. So, be quick with the dick and get the hell out of the bathroom. Besides, my stomach has growled several times now and I really am looking forward to that stew.

I pull my clean clothes on in a hurry as well, gingerly pick up the dirty clothes and stuff them in one of the buckets. The shoulder holster goes back on. I pick up Scully's watch and pocket it. Finally I pick up the flashlight from the toilet seat and exit the bathroom.

I can smell the stew all the way down the hall and into the great room. My mouth is watering by the time I get there. I put the two buckets down next to the dining room table and extract my dirty laundry, throwing it over one of the chairs. Then I proceed further, shutting off the flashlight as I walk. I head towards the couch because Scully, her back to me, is walking over to the fireplace. When I reach the side of the couch I stop and stare at the scene in front of it. There's no way I can hide my surprised look of pleasure. The coffee table is set for dinner with two identical place settings facing each other across it. The settings include the works - cloth placemats, glasses of water, and our wine glasses. The wine is sitting between the two plates. Scully must have scrounged up the dinnerware and silverware from that cabinet she first checked in for the candles. Two freshly lit candles are in the candle holders. A very soft feeling grows in my chest. I walk over, unpocket Scully's watch and place it next to the bottle of wine. I toss the flashlight down onto the couch cushions.

When I look up I see Scully struggling a little with the pole that holds the stew pot over the fire. I cross quickly to the hearth and clear my throat.

"Here, let me help you with that."

"Thanks. It's sticking for some reason."

"Disuse I imagine," I suggest.

She looks up at me then and her eyes grow slightly wide as I move the pole out from the flames. She smiles.

"You...you shaved."

"Hmm? Oh yeah," I nod, stroking my chin. "I...well...I got kind tired of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" look."

"It looks...it's definitely more you," she replies, smiling. She nods as if confirming her thought as I pull the stew pot off the hook at the end of the pole. I'm pleased once more to think she noticed my efforts to look more presentable. That little voice chimes in 'look presentable for her' again. I studiously try to ignore it.

"Let me take this, go sit down," I suggest, gesturing with my head towards the coffee table.

"All right," she replies quietly. As I carry the pot to our makeshift dinner table, Scully throws another couple of logs on the fire. Then she walks back over towards the coffee table.

Scully sits down, her back to the fire as I set the pot on the extra placemat she's obviously set out for that purpose. I stand back to admire the view. The heavy wooden coffee table looks almost elegant. I walk around to the opposite side and sit down at my place setting. Scully suddenly notices her watch next to the wine bottle. She picks it up gently, stroking it with her thumb and forefinger for a moment. When she looks up, she smiles tentatively at me, her face very soft.

"Thanks," she lifts the watch up a little towards me and then moves to snap the clasp around her wrist.

"Don't mention it," I murmur.

She looks back over at me again and we stare at each other for a moment. I don't want to think it but I can't help it. Scully looks exquisite, backlit against the fireplace. As I let my eyes wander over her something behind her catches my eye however.

"Hey, I forgot the ladle," I grunt, starting to get up to retrieve it.

"I'll get it, sit down," Scully waves me off. I lower my butt back to the wooden floor as she gets up and goes for the ladle. When she returns she sits back down and puts the ladle into the pot.

"Scully, this...this really is great," I tell her, gesturing over the coffee table.

"Well I thought, what the hell, you know. You cooked this absolutely delightful smelling stew. I might as well make like Martha Stewart so we can enjoy it in the proper setting," she passes of the gesture but I can tell she's flattered I've complimented her on the idea.

"Martha'd be proud," I rumble a chuckle. "I hope the taste warrants the ambiance."

"Oh, it does. I sampled it. It's fabulous."

I smile wider and pick up the ladle, "Well then. Hand me your plate, agent. Let's chow down."

Scully laughs and extends her plate across to me.

Just before we start to tuck into the meal, Scully bows her head. At first I'm confused but then it dawns no me she's going to say grace. I wrinkle my brow a little in embarrassment at not tweaking to the idea immediately. I bow my head and join her in the simple prayer. Once finished with the blessing we pick up our silverware and prepare to eat.

It becomes obvious that both of us are ravenous. After a few seconds to savor the taste and aroma of the stew, all bets are off. We eat our first serving in silence, spoons clinking against our plates almost in unison, shoveling it in. Our second portion is eaten more slowly with some broken conversation about the chances of getting another rabbit tomorrow or even a deer as I'd thought earlier in the bathroom. Scully studiously avoids the subject of her birthday and so do I. Finally both of us push our plates back and groan a little in satisfaction. We've eaten all the stew. It was both filling and delicious. Hey, it may be a sin to like your own cooking but this has been one of the best meals I've had in months.

Scully raises her wine glass and extends it in my direction.

"To the chef. Sir...that was way better than fried possum."

I grin and lift my glass as well, bringing it over to clink against hers.

"To Dana Scully. A woman of superb taste."

She laughs and so do I. We both bring our glasses up and take a nice long drink of the Marsala. When we set them down again, I clear my throat.

"Listen, uh...you know I think you can probably dispense with the sir idea, Scully. If...if you're comfortable with it, I don't mind you calling me..."

"Skinner?"

"No, actually I was going to suggest, Walter," I reply quietly. I study her face as she looks down at her wine glass, wrinkling her brow a little. I watch as her brow smooths and she looks back up.

"I can do that, sure," she nods gravely.

"Good. Ok. I just figured after everything...well hell, the formality just doesn't work at this point. At least...well at least not for me. I...I can't see you as a subordinate now, Scully. Not...not any more," I stammer a little, reaching for my glass again.

"Dana."

"What?" I ask confused for a second.

"You might as well call me Dana. If we're dropping protocol here that's only fair. And I appreciate you're saying that, Walter. I guess the boss employee line has kind of blurred, hasn't it?" she grins wryly.

No kidding. How can you call someone a subordinate when she's looked through what's left of your head hair for lice and you've looked through hers too? How can you call someone a subordinate when she's saved your ass by killing a man who was strangling you, with a rifle butt to the head? How can you call someone a subordinate when you've got a concussion and she has to catch rats and fry them over a campfire to keep you both from starving? No, having Scully call me sir is kind of beyond the pale at this point, I'd say.

"Way beyond fuzzy, Dana," I smile. I take another sip of my wine as she laughs a little again.

Both of us lapse into silence for a few seconds lost in our own thoughts. I just let my mind wander over how good it feels to just sit here, warm, with a full belly and someone companionable. When I refocus, Scully is studying me.

"What?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I...it's just I haven't seen you without the beard in so long..."

"I can grow it back."

She smiles, "Actually I always thought you looked so clean and...I don't know...you just looked so well groomed back at the Hoover. All those wonderfully tailored suits, clean shaven - the whole package. I still think I like that look better than the uh...Grizzly Adams persona."

I rumble my laughter.

"Yeah, I did have that dress for success look down I guess. The beard was warm...but yeah, you're right - it just wasn't me." I'm about to compliment her on her former taste in work attire when she interrupts my train of thought.

"Mulder tried to grow a beard once, well he thought about a goatee, but...." she stops instantly.

I raise an eyebrow in expectation.

"Sorry...I..." she lets her voice trail off and looks at her hands.

When she looks back up it's evident she can't or won't go on. I want to reach across and touch her hand but I don't. It wouldn't be appropriate as I watch the emotions war on her face.

"Scully...it's ok to talk about him you know. He's not a forbidden subject."

She sighs and nods.

"I know...it's just that I still find it hard to deal with his disappearance and the possibility that he's..." she stops again and looks into my eyes.

"Dead?"

"I still don't think he is, Walter. I keep telling myself if he were dead...I'd...I'd know it somehow. Damn it, I should have been there with him that night instead of working on that idiotic report," she frowns in disgust, setting the wine glass down with a small thud.

"Well, at the time you had a hard assed boss who expected that report on his desk in the morning, " I quip trying to lighten the mood.

"I should have been with him," she mutters looking down again and not meeting my eyes.

"Look, Scul...Dana. We've been over this territory before. You...you can't keep flagellating yourself over not being there for him that night. I...just like I can't keep obsessing over not telling him about Krycek. What's done is done. He made his own difficult and ultimately wrong decisions that night too. No one's to blame...it just happened. We have to let it go."

When I'm finished with my little speech she looks up again and the pain in her eyes is still evident. She moves to rise and leave the coffee table. I sit and watch her go stand by the fire. She stands with her back to me, her arms tightly circling her chest. I get up and walk to her, standing behind her. It would be so easy for me to touch her shoulder, turn her around and pull her into my embrace. Hug her likes she's hugging herself right now. I want to do that so badly, my muscles are jumping. But I don't to do it. Instead I talk softly to her to try to comfort her in some small way.

"Dana, for what it's worth...I'll still try my damnedest to help you find him. I think he's out there. I guess I'm with you on that feeling. I...I don't get a sense he's dead either. I find it hard to credit a feeling like that and I imagine you might too. But, I do credit it. I believe we'll find him."

As I express the thought I suddenly realize I do believe it - fully. I know in my heart in that moment that if he were dead I'd know it too - just like Scully. My hands shake a little at the admission but it steels my nerve. If I was looking for a reason to go on, I've found it. Three really. I want to help Scully find him so she'll have closure...some peace of mind. Also, I want to find Mulder and ask him to explain how the hell I can suddenly know he's not dead. He's the expert on shit like that after all. I want an answer and he's the answer man when it comes to the weird and bizarre, that's more than obvious at this point. Fox Mulder's theories aren't spooky any longer at all. And ok, yeah, I want to apologize for Krycek. Mulder and Scully obviously aren't the only ones harboring a gut full of guilt.

Scully nods into the fire.

"I appreciate you saying that too."

I move imperceptibly closer and finally stretch my hand out to pat her on the shoulder. I let the pat venture just a bit into a gentle stroke of my fingers before I pull back abruptly. She doesn't flinch away and I'm relieved she didn't.

"Come on back and sit down for a few more minutes. Finish your wine," I whisper. I turn and head over to the couch.

I sit down at one end and let out a breath as Scully turns and follows me back. She picks up her wine glass and joins me, sitting carefully on the opposite end. I pick up my glass and drain it, putting it back down on the table. She does the same.

"Would you like a second glass?"

"That'd be fine," she answers distantly, still staring off into the fire. I pick up the wine and fill both our glasses again. I pick hers up and hand it to her. For a second I study her profile with a tight feeling in my chest. Despite her sadness or maybe even because of it she looks like a Pre-Raphaelite painting right now. Just like one of Dante Gabriel Rossetti's portaits of Beata Beatrix. I swallow hard and extend the glass.

"Dana?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, Walter. Thank you," she smiles wistfully at me, taking the glass.

I nod as she sips the wine and before I can stop myself I ask her a question I've been wanting to ask for a long time but never dared to ask. My fatigue and the wine serve to loosen my tongue. I probably shouldn't be asking the question but I can't help myself.

"Dana can I ask you a personal question?"

"About?"

"About you and Mulder," I reply quietly.

She cocks her head at me and raises an eyebrow over her wine. Then she shrugs a little and puts the glass back down on the coffee table.

"I think I can guess what you're going to ask," she whispers.

"I'm sorry. It's none of my damn business. Forget it," I advise her, shaking my head in disgust at myself.

"Well, it was your business back at the Hoover, Walter. As our immediate supervisor it was your business to know whether two of your agents may have stepped over the line. Why...why didn't you ever ask one of us about this issue before?"

"You mean why didn't I ask you if you too were...involved somehow?"

"Walter everyone thought we were sleeping together. I wasn't so oblivious that I didn't hear the rumors. Mulder heard them as well."

"So?"

"No."

"No you weren't sleeping together?"

"Right. We weren't lovers," she replies without hesitation and no embarrassment about the subject matter much to my relief.

"Oh."

"Look, Walter. Mulder and I had something special in the way of a partnership. Very special. I'm not going to pretend we weren't attracted to each other because we were - most definitely. It's just that...well neither of us was very good at relationships maybe? Well...Mulder wasn't at all by his own admission. We just had too many issues, too much baggage and...and we were never sure whether getting physical was a good idea because of the work either. Mulder was so driven, Walter. He normally eschewed most connections with people...."

"But you too seemed so close. You had some kind of bond..."

"Oh we are close. I'm more close to Mulder than I've been to almost anyone in my life. But...it's hard to explain. I think after a while our feelings fell into something different from a physical expression of love. I...the whole thing is just too complicated to analyze I guess."

"Do you love him, Dana?"

"I guess I love him in a way. It's as close to love with a man as I've ever experienced before, I know that. I also respect Mulder and...and I owe him my life even though he doesn't think I owe him anything and should probably feel just the opposite. He...he has such raging guilt. But...I do owe him. I think part of the reason I'm so intent on finding him is because of all those reasons. But also the last big reason is...I just want the chance to tell him I believe him, really believe him at last. I was wrong in so many ways...and he was right. I...really want to be able to tell him that, Walter. The rest...well we'll just have to see what happens I guess."

"I see," I reply. Yeah I see. Walter Skinner can kiss any chances at romancing Dana Scully good bye. I nod and put my wine glass down. Well maybe it's a good thing. It was a stupid fantasy anyway I remind myself.

Scully studies me carefully for a minute before she replies, a smile playing about her lips.

"I don't think you do, exactly. But...I think it's kind of you to at least try."

I grunt some kind of noncommittal assent and finger the material of my jeans.

"But Walter I'm still curious as to why you never said anything. You must have heard the rumors."

"I did hear them, of course," I reply, looking off into the fire. I look back and she's studying my face carefully. "I just chose to ignore them. You're both adults. You were both crack agents with a high solve rate. Nothing you were doing was affecting the work and as you say - you had - uh have - a good partnership. What you did on your off hours was your own business. As long as it didn't affect the job I didn't care if you were lovers. Besides...uh...I thought...well the two of you were so often risking your lives...if you sought a little pleasure together who was I to criticize,." I finish, staring into her eyes.

She nods and looks down as she replies, "Thank you, Walter. If the rumors had been true, I know Mulder would have appreciated you throwing the book out on them too. That I thank you goes without saying."

I give a terse nod and we both reach for our wine glasses again. We sit in silence for several minutes, sipping and again lost in our thoughts.

I wish things were different I think. I wish...I don't know what the hell I wish. I guess I just wish this was all over with - she was back with Mulder, and I could maybe move on with my life. Way in the back of my mind I'm still wishing I could hold her and just banish the sadness for a short time with the comfort of another human being's caring touch.

Finally I shake off my morose thoughts. This isn't doing any good. What happened to my vow to make tomorrow, her birthday, an enjoyable day for her? I mean come on Walter, get a life here. Let's just get some sleep, wake up on the right side of the bed and kick back for a day or so. I took a quick look past the drawn shades over the kitchen windows when I was preparing the rabbit earlier. It was really snowing hard. I figure we may be snowed in her for at least a couple of days. So, better make the best of it. No sense in dwelling on depressing thoughts. I clear my throat again and set my wine glass down.

"Hey, I'm about ready to clear up here and get some shut eye? How about you?"

She stretches and places her glass down too.

"Yes. I think the wine is helping to make me even more sleepy. Let me help you clear the dishes. We can wash them in the morning. We'll need to get more water then anyway."

"Sounds good," I reply, getting up off the couch.

Once we've cleaned up everything from the meal we both take a trip to the bathroom before bed. We actually found a half used tube of toothpaste in there and after using the toilet and washing up a little with one of the other pots of water, we both try to use our fingers to brush our teeth. I know this because I could hear Scully laughing about it while she was in the bathroom and asked her about it afterwards. When I confessed to doing the same thing and imitated what it looked like both of us were nearly crying with laughter.

Back out in the great room, and calmed down, we prepare to roll out our sleeping mats and bags. I offer her the couch and she refuses to take it insisting instead we should flip for it. I laugh and tell her I don't have any coins left to flip. She thinks a minute, gives a small grin, goes to her pack and pulls out of all things, an Apollo 11 key chain.

"Heads or Tails?" she asks, showing me the medallion part.

I look at the key chain and notice it really does have a face side.

"Heads," I nod in agreement. She flips, heads it is, and I get the couch.

"Tomorrow night it'll be your turn then," I yawn at her as she tucks the key chain back in her pack.

"Deal," she answers, picking up her egg crate mattress pad. She rolls the foam pad out on the floor opposite the coffee table. She rolls out her sleeping bag on top of it.

"I'll add some more logs to the fire," I quietly volunteer. It may go out during the night, but I'm hoping it will last long enough to keep us warm in our sub zero rated sleeping bags.

Scully nods sleepily as I cross to the hearth. When I turn back from adding the logs she's unstrapping her shoulder holster and laying the gun near her head and just under the coffee table. Then she crawls into her bag without even removing her clothing. We've found it pays to stay dressed. On most occasions we've even slept with our boots on and guns within easy reach. I watch her shift around a little to get comfortable.

"Want a pillow?" I ask indicating the throw pillows on the couch.

"Oh, yes. Thank you," she smiles up at me. I feel that familiar warmth spreading in my groin again as I look down on her, lying at my feet, smiling. Oh Jesus. I cross quickly to the couch and pick up the throw pillow.

"Catch," I rumble and she sits up. I toss the pillow at her and she effortlessly scoops it out of the air.

She dusts off the pillow, plumps it up. She lies back down, facing me and stuffs it under her head. I can tell as soon as her head hits the pillow that she's almost asleep.

"G'night," she mumbles.

"Night," I reply. I lay my sleeping bag out on the couch, leaving the mattress pad rolled up on the floor. Finally I unstrap my holster and gun and lay the rig on the coffee table. I take my glasses off and set them next to my gun. I unzip the bag, crawl in and as soon as I lay my head down on the other throw pillow, I'm out like a light.

xXx

The gunshot wakes me with a convulsive start.

"Scully!" I shout immediately upon not seeing her in her sleeping bag. I'm up, gun in hand, safety off. "Scully!" I call again, getting my bearings.

"Walter!" I hear her scream from the direction of the kitchen. Crashing, her desperate hoarse cries, and some kind of gutteral low noise comes from that direction. It sounds like an all out battle is going on in there. I race forward down the short hall and into the kitchen proper. At first I'm disorientated because the flashlight is on the floor, spinning crazily around. Scully, dressed in her snow gear, is down and fighting with some large, black shape on top of her. The combatants are struggling half in and half out of the open back door. Her gun is lying at my feet as I slide to a stop in front of the tableau. What the fuck's got her? It's growling? Wolf? No....

I aim carefully at the gnashing, roaring furry mass of stray dog that Scully is struggling to hold off with one gloved hand and pummel in the face with the other. I curse "Fuck" loudly in fear and desperation because I can't get a clear shot. Scully and the dog are to close together and I don't have my God damn glasses on either! Finally, with a mighty heave, Scully shoves the dog up away from her body enough that I can hit the target. I fire and the report is loud in the confines of the kitchen. The dog flies backward into the doorway, half dead, a bullet wound to the lungs. It lies there gurgling in it's throat and Scully scrabbles back to grab her gun.

"More!" she screams in warning and it's then I see the other sets of eyes just out side the door. I grab up the flashlight and shine it outside, catching two other large dogs, a Rottweiler and some shaggy, yellow mixed breed, snarling in its beam. Scully and I stand side by side and shoot them both in the head as they lunge to enter the kitchen. I stride to the door, shoot the other dog, a German Shepherd, in the head to finish it off. Adrenaline fueling my muscles, I pick it up by the neck and toss it out the kitchen door to join it's compatriots lying dead just beyond the door sill. I slam the door shut and yank the bar down. I bolt the locks again as well. I'll have to reset the screamer alarm later.

When I turn, Scully is slumped down, sitting with her legs out straight and her back propped up against the cabinets under the sink. She's cradling her weapon on her lap. Christ. I hurry to her side, flip the safety back on my gun and place it and the flashlight on the floor.

"Are you hurt?" I ask tersly, "Scully...did it bite you anywhere?"

"I...no...I don't...I'm not sure. Oh shit...God," she gasps trying to rein in her panic.

"It's ok, hang on...I'll get you back in by the fire," I advise her. I grab my gun and the flashlight again and standing up, stuff them down into the top of my jeans. Then I squat back down.

"Can you hang onto your piece?" I ask her.

"Oh yeah," she huffs, still trying to regain her equilibrium.

"Ok, then. Hang on tight," I advise her. I reach forward, scoop her up in my arms and lifting, carry her back into the great room. She leans in against me, seemingly grateful for the human contact. I carry her over to the couch and deposit her carefully on the seat so that she's sitting down. I pull my gun and the flashlight out of my pants and lay them on the coffee table. I snatch my glasses up and ram them onto my head. When I reach to take Scully's gun from her, she pulls it close, half in panic.

"Hey, it's ok..." I murmur, seeking to soothe her. She realizes what she's doing and gives me a grimace of self depreciation and let's me take the gun. I place it next to mine.

I start to examine her outer clothing. My hands are shaking a little. It's the only thing that betrays the panic I feel twisting my guts. I remove her gloves to see they protected her hands and suffered for it. She's going to need to use my spare pair of gloves when we leave here. Her hands are fine however, just a bit bruised. Her parka seems untouched for the most part. It has a tear in one sleeve which is clearly not all the way through. We'll have to figure out how to fix that later. I help her to remove the coat and I toss it onto the coffee table. I turn my attention to her pants. The right leg of her insulated pants from the knee down is shredded and there's blood on the material. Shit.

"What happened?" I ask her to distract her and perhaps myself too as I undo her boots. I'm going to need to pull off her insulated pants to look at her leg.

"I woke up and had to go to the bathroom. Well...I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone and fill the buckets we used for our baths since I was awake. I took them outside with the flashlight and I was going to refill them with snow."

She shivers a little as I work the boot laces open.

"I wasn't out there five minutes and Cujo and his friends showed up."

"You should have gotten me up," I admonish her setting her boots aside, "I would have gone along as back-up."

"I just didn't want to wake you," she mumbles as I begin to work the pants down her legs.

She's starting to shake more and I have to imagine she's going into shock. I look up at her, placing my hand on her leg to still the shivering. She reads the concern in my face and voices my thoughts again.

"I know. I'm a doctor. Yes, it's shock. I need..."

"Let me get these off and see just what we're dealing with here, ok?"

She nods and shifts up so I can pull the pants all the way down and off. Her jeans are torn and rather than pull them off I rip them up from the bottom along the tear to her knee. Man, I hope we can dig up some clothing upstairs in the sleeping loft. She's going to need some. I look down at her leg and steel myself for the worst. Miraculously accept for some tiny scratches that have hardly broken the skin, and what's going to be a hell of a bruise, her skin is unmarked.

I let out a grateful sigh, "Barely a scratch."

She hisses in relief, past chattering teeth.

"The blood must have come from the dog. I thought I hit him before he knocked my gun out of my hand. He never did get a good grip on my leg. I almost managed to get back inside but he knocked me down and..."

"Shhh. Shhh," I soothe her, "It's all right, soldier, at ease. I get the drift. They must have been summer strays or strays from Aspen trying to form a pack. Bold bastards probably smelled our dinner."

"I was almost dinner," she wheezes, coughing.

She tries to smile but only her lips twitch. I chuckle and squeeze her arm.

"Here, let me get you some water. Will you be all right for a second? I need to go get a glass"

Scully nods several times, still shaking, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. I move quickly back to the kitchen. While I'm in there I reset the scream alarm and then hunt up another glass. I bring out the glass, cross to the hearth and fill it from one of the buckets that we let self melt. I return to the couch and sit down beside her, taking her shoulders with my arm. I pull her close and place the glass of slightly tepid water to her lips.

"Ok, here you go, Dana," I urge her, she brings her hands up and both are shaking badly as I suspected they would be. I help her steady the glass and she drinks. When she's had her fill I pull the glass away and set it on the coffee table.

"I should clean those scratches."

"Soap and water should do. I'm up on my tetanus ssshots," she stutters.

I don't even want to think about rabies. The German Shepherd had a collar with a license and rabies tags. I noticed them when I grabbed the dog by the neck to pitch him out the door. We have to hope they were current. Maybe the scratches weren't even from the dog's teeth.

"What about infection in those scratches?" I ask Scully.

"I have some Bacitracin ointment and bandaids in my pack." she advises.

"Ok. Hang tight. I'll take care of it."

I clean up her leg quickly with water from one of the three remaining hot water pots and soap from the bathroom. I use the Bacitracin and bandaids as well. Once that's done I get her a second glass of water. I also dig out my old bottle of Exedrin from my pack. It's been very handy that maximum sized bottle of Exedrin. There's only six capsules left in it. I give Scully two of them and help her to drink water again. She swallows the meds down but she's still shaking.

"I'm cold," she whispers, "It's the shock. I need to be warmer."

I nod and put the glass back on the coffee table. I get her to stand up for a moment so I can pull my sleeping bag out from under her. I straighten the bag out on the couch seat, open it, slip inside and pull her down in front of me.

"Lie down, spoon close," I order her and she complies. I pull the flap up over us and put a protective arm over her middle. Pulling her into my body heat. She doesn't protest at all.

"Go to sleep now," I murmur against her hair, "I'll keep you warm." I can feel her heart beating hard as she nods. Mine is beating hard too. I almost lost her I think. As we both fall asleep I think how bereft I would have been if that had been the case.

xXx

Sometime in the early hours of the morning I feel Scully rise and hear her take a pot of water from the hearth as she heads to the bathroom. I have to go as well so I get up. My glasses are askew on my nose and my neck a little stiff since I was trying to avoid breaking them while I slept. I adjust them and the strap that holds them on. They seem none the worse for wear. While I'm waiting for Scully to return I add more logs to the still smoldering fire. I add some more tinder and the logs catch, blazing up again quickly. Scully makes her return, sans water pot, as the heat is just starting to remove the chill near the hearth.. She limps over. How the hell did she carry the pot to the bathroom I think as I walk to meet her. She stops walking and waits for me to draw close

"Are you ok?" I ask, touching her shoulder.

"My leg's sore and stiff but I'll manage," she smiles tentatively at me.

"Go get warm by the fire. I'll be back in a minute."

"K" she nods as I head towards the bathroom.

When I return she's standing in front of the hearth rubbing her arms in front of the growing fire and shifting from foot to foot. I think to myself...crap what a way to spend a birthday. Mauled by a dog, bruised, sore and cold. I walk up behind her.

"Why don't you lie down and wrap up in the sleeping bag. You can get some more sleep that way. I can cook..." I don't finish my thought because she sways a little when she comes down on her weak leg. She starts to tip backwards and I have to catch her.

"Whoa, soldier," I mumble as she leans against me, "Watch that leg."

"It's a little weaker than I thought I guess," she whispers in return. I bring my arms up and take her biceps to move her away from me. Her hands come up and trap my hands on her arms. I stop and stand still, breathing carefully.

She rubs my hands down her arms slowly, tentatively until I make the movement myself, warming her. I pull her back closer and she rests against me so comfortably that before I realize quite what I'm doing I turn her in my arms. I'm staring down into her clear, fearless blue eyes. I stroke her cheek. She leans into my hand and I bend down to place a gentle kiss against her closed lips. She doesn't move away. Instead, she presses back very softly. It's just a featherlight kiss because I suddenly jolt back to my senses, and straighten up, pulling back.

"Scul...Dana...I don't think... this isn't a good idea," I rumble, trying to move away from her. She takes my arm before I can get away.

"Walter...sometimes you think...we both think too much," she replies moving close to me again.

Her eyes study me intently as I look into her face. I can see what she's thinking. Scully doesn't usually beat around the bush when she wants something. Her intent is clear. She wants 'me' right now. A crazy thought flashes across my mind threatening to make hysterical laughter bubble up out of me. Well...it'd be a hell of a birthday gift I think. Walter Skinner wrapped, willing and ready. The most personalized gift I could give her. I lower my head in shame for a moment, almost overwhelming disgust at my hubris making my stomach flip. I feel her take my hand and kiss it. My head snaps up as she looks in my eyes again. The raw desire I see in their blue depths washes my shame away but replaces it with self doubt.

I can't help but think that she can't really want me. She's offering herself to me in gratitude for saving her life last night and I become suddenly angry. My face clouds over and I pull my hand away from her lips.

"I...not this way, Scully. I can't...not just out of gratitude..." I stumble over the words, my normally terse articulation failing me. I'm trying to simultaneously state my case and refrain from offending her and I think I'm failing miserably. I turn away but she grabs my arm again, drawing my attention back to her face.

"Walter," she replies in a soft voice. "It's...what makes you think this is about gratitude?"

"Well isn't it? How can it be about anything else after last night? I mean, for months we've been searching for the man you love, Dana. I can't pretend otherwise even though I've come to care for you very deeply during our time together. I...sure I've thought what it might be like to make love with you. Hell, maybe I'm even falling in love with you. But...I don't think you can ever fall in love with me. I'm very attracted to you right now. I...I want to accept what you're offering. I...just...not this way. Can you understand what I'm saying?"

Even as I ask the question a voice in the back of my mind is abrogating every word I said. I want her, plain and simple. I want her so bad I can feel my cock sheathed in her warm, wet sex right now. I'm hot for her and I give a shit if she's going to fuck me out of gratitude or just because I make a hell of a rabbit stew.

My rational mind is horrified at those words but nonetheless they're running through my head. That's the trouble - we've been on the road, fighting for our lives just long enough to start to lose some of our rationality, our humanity, I think. I struggle against that tide and force myself to consider that this may not be a wise decision on either of our parts. As I'm trying to reassert AD Walter S. Skinner, Scully is speaking again. I listen, my mouth open slightly, my harsh breathing echoing in my ears.

"I almost died last night. You've almost died several times on the road already. Jesus, Walter. I...I just want to feel alive. I want to feel alive with you. It's not about gratitude. But it sure as hell is about life, and....and respect and hell yes, it just might be about love too by this point, Walter Skinner. Don't you think you're worthy of love? Don't you think I might have grown to love you?"

I just stare at her. There's no irrationality in her eyes at all. There's only a desperate longing, loneliness - and I could almost say love because I do hope it's there. I really do. I know all those feelings are mirrored in my eyes as I look back at her.

"Walter, I need...I just need to feel alive in your arms," she finishes, moving in close to me.

I stand there for a moment more. One last few seconds of indecision. What might be irrational Walter wins out. But my heart swells with something very close to love for Dana Scully. I wrap my arms around her small but well muscled shoulders, hugging her tight.

"Jesus," I hiss, not knowing what else to say. It's been so long since I've been with a woman, connected with anyone really. I need this so much. I can more than tell she needs it too. I have no idea if it's been a while for her. I guess I'd half assumed she was sleeping with Mulder. Now...obviously I know she didn't bed him. Maybe it's been a while for her too. Oh God. I want this to be good for us both so that no matter what happens from here on out we'll at least remember this morning with a special pleasure forever afterwards.

We stand like that for several moments and then I tilt her back a little so that I can see her face again. She's smiling gently up at me. I run my hand through her hair and she captures my hand, kissing my palm.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask seriously.

"Yes," she nods, nuzzling my palm with her lips.

I let out a long breath and place a finger on her lips. I run my index finger over her lush bottom lip and she closes her eyes. I cup her chin and bend down for another kiss. This time she opens her mouth to me and I move my tongue between her lips carefully just in case she may yet change her mind. I don't feel a shred of hesitation as she sucks my tongue in deep and starts to dual with it. Her tongue wars with mine, until I can hardly breath under the assault. We both pull back breathless.

I pull her close again and hug her to me. God this is what I've wanted since we got to this house. My hands tremble a little as I stroke her back. She settles against me and I can feel myself getting really aroused, pre-cum dampening my boxer shorts.

"I do want you," I growl into her hair.

"I think I've wanted you for a while, Walter."

"Truth?"

"Yeah, I really can't delude myself or lie to you. I've...I've grown to care about you deeply these last few months too. I considered doing this a couple of times all ready but..."

I nod against her, "But conditions were hardly conducive to a wild morning or night with a lover."

"Exactly," she murmurs against my chest.

"I don't have any protection," I tell her, drawing her hand up to my lips this time, and kissing it.

"We won't need it," she whispers, kissing into my chest.

"All right," I nod, knowing it's true.

I leave her for a moment to drag over the egg crate mattresses, throw pillows and sleeping bags. I place them down, side by side to form a makeshift bed in front of the fire."

"Is this all right?" I ask her indicating the bedding.

"Yes, it's fine. We should be warm near the fire," she whispers.

I smile at her. I have a feeling we'll be warm enough soon but this is good as a roomy cushioned surface as well. We start to undress in front of each other. I'm standing on the 'bed' and she's just in front of me, her back to the fire.

We both sneak peaks as we disrobe, excited and interested but a little nervous. When we finally do stand before each other naked, I let my eyes rake over Scully's exquisite skin. Her body is fantastic. Soft curves coupled with toned muscles from many hard months on the road make her lovely in my eyes. Her breasts are round and firm, her nipples erect and inviting. I swallow hard as I discover she's a natural red head. The red curls between her thighs glisten with her arousal. I can hardly wait to taste her.

She has scars of course - a particularly large one courtesy of one Detective Ritter of the NYPD. But hell, my stomach and groin's a road map of scars. Who cares. She's phenomenal.

"You're beautiful," I husk, looking into her face.

I watch her as her eyes play over me. She licks her lips and I feel my cock twitch.

"Turn around," she asks quietly, a little smile playing about her mouth. I comply and she gives out with a wolf whistle. I bark a laugh.

"I know it wasn't under very good circumstances and highly unprofessional as a doctor. But...I thought that looked pretty good when I was taking care of you in Virginia..." she begins.

"But you have confirmation now?" I tease.

"Oh yes, definitely. You have an ass to die for, Walter."

I rumble more laughter at her sudden audacious and outspoken sexuality. I can't lie and not say I'm flattered by her comment. I've never heard her talk this way before either. I discover I really like it. It gets me cranked up further. I turn back to face her.

"Oh, and that package isn't bad either," she purrs, zeroing in on my semi-erect cock.

"Come here," I growl and she walks over onto the sleeping bags. I pull her close and shamelessly rub my cock against her groin, "It gets better," I whisper into her red hair.

"Let's find out," she replies, kissing into my chest hair.

I start to sink to my knees down onto the sleeping bags, gently pulling her with me. I'm mindful of her leg and guide her so that she doesn't put as much weight on it. We kneel together and then I'm kissing her, plunging my tongue into her mouth as her mouth roams hard over mine again.

When we pull back she starts to kiss and suck on my neck, driving what little mind I have left right out my ears. I start to lave her ear and she wiggles against me and gives out a breathless laugh against my neck.

"You taste so good," I murmur into her ear.

"That tickles but I love it," she rubs her face against my morning beard stubble.

"I wanna taste your sex," I whisper against her hair.

"I want your mouth," she husks back looking into my eyes.

I lie back, pulling her with me until I'm lying flat and she's straddling my chest. She sits there for a few minutes while I toy with her breasts and nipples, admiring the view. I roll each nipple between my fingers, pinching them until they are hard little nubs. She gasps and pumps her hips against me making me stiffen up a little to accommodate her thrusting on my rib cage.

"You like this I take it?" I chuckle and so does she.

"You have very talented hands Mr. Skinner," she answers, stilling so that she can stroke my chest and tweak my nipples in return. She makes me hiss is pleasure.

"Thank you. You have wonderful hands as well," I reply, smiling up at her.

Scully's breathing is coming out in harsh pants and her head tilts back as I take more of her breasts in my hands, pushing and kneading them up and together. I want to suck her tits too, but not yet. I really want my mouth between her legs. It's something that turns me on so hard I want to explode. I can tell by the way Scully's trying to buck forward that she's anxious for me to get where I want to go as well. She looks back down on me and taking her own hand, strokes her crotch seductively for me.

"Move up," I encourage her and she scoots forward until her wet curls are even with my mouth. She runs a wet finger over my lips and I take it in, sucking her juices off onto my tongue.

"I knew this would taste good," I grate out around her finger. She withdraws it and places both hands on my biceps.

"God you're hard," she smiles, feeling my corded muscles.

"You think that's hard," I hiss. My cock is throbbing between my legs every time she shifts her wet folds over my chest hair.

She smiles a Cheshire cat grin and shifts herself back again, rubbing my erection against the cleft of her ass.

"Oh, I think it's very hard," she laughs and then she undulates against me again.

I almost buck her off my chest as I arch up after that second wave of friction. A low groan comes up out of my lungs. She knows full well what she's doing to me. Two can play at that game I think. I bring a hand up and cover the front of her crotch, gripping her gently.

"Oh God," she moans as I begin to massage her mons.

"You're so soft and warm, Dana. I love this," I kiss into her pubic hair and she smiles down at me.

"That feels marvelous, Walter," she replies, swallowing hard as I continue to rub into her heat.

"Don't hold back," I tell her, "I need to feel you move to know if it's good. I want this to be really good," I add, grabbing her hips and pulling her sex onto my mouth.

She cries out as I plunge my tongue and lips between her folds, arching up as I steady her with my hands.

"It's good. It's good," she laughs as I suck and lap at her clit.

As I go to work she starts to stroke my head in counterpoint to each swipe of my tongue. You know some men bemoan the fact they're follically challenged. Well...under these circumstances I don't think they'd complain at all. I certainly won't. The feel of her hands over my scalp is making me crazy with desire to really go down on her hard.

Soon, she also takes my request to heart and gently begins to buck into my mouth. I reach my hands halfway around her hips and squeeze her ass as she starts to swivel around on my face. I love to do this for a woman. The smell and taste makes my blood boil.

I can feel her thigh muscles start to quiver as I concentrate on running my tongue over her swollen flesh. I'm starting to have a little trouble breathing however because her movements have become more frantic. She's starting to knock into my nose. I take her waist and shift her back slightly. She moans at the loss of contact.

"Hang on, babe" I murmur to her, and she nods as I bring my hand down and run my index finger up over her clit again.

"This ok?" I breath out against her.

"Yesss, I'm so close," she hisses, rotating her hips. Her wet folds are rubbing into my chest hair as I shift my hand. I keep rubbing her clit with my thumb and work two of my fingers up into her. She cries out.

"GOD!"

"Oh, yeah," I smile, pressing my fingers up inside towards the front part of her vagina. I remember all too well that spot that used to send Sharon into the outer stratosphere. I'm hoping Scully's that sensitive. When my finger finds it she moans loud. Bingo I think. I stroke down and then back and that's all it takes. She convulses around my hand, tightening her inner muscles down hard.

"Uhhhhhhh!" she groans, throwing her head back. I hold one of her hips to steady her still mindful of her leg, even in my lust filled daze. It's lucky I do hold her because she thrashes a little with the intensity of her climax. I keep up my work outside and inside her body as she flushes magnificently, the red color claiming her high standing tits as I watch.

"Good. So good. God, you look so fine," I whisper. She looks so uninhibited, so wanton that my breath is almost driven out of my chest.

She comes back to herself in a moment and her hand touches mine where I'm still caressing her clit.

"Ow," she gasps, flinching a little. I take my hand away instantly.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, taking her hand and kissing her palm.

She strokes my face, "No, it's ok. It's just sensitive," she replies, smiling down at me, "It was more than ok," she adds softly.

"You were magnificent," I tell her, running my hands up and down her arms.

"So were you," she replies a little shyly.

We lie like that, her on top of me for a few more minutes until her breathing returns to normal. She rubs my chest tenderly massaging my muscles. I shut my eyes for a few moments and just savor her touch over my skin. Like I said it's been a while since I've enjoyed another person's touch. This is fantastic.

Finally she shifts off and lies down beside me. I roll to face her, propping myself up on my elbow so that I can finger her hair. I sniff it and then I sweep down and sniff her underarms. She laughs.

"I like your smell."

"Now," she grins.

I laugh and reply, "Always."

I nuzzle her armpit.

"I think it's mostly Dial soap," she grins, caressing my neck.

"It's you nevertheless," I reply.

She kisses the spot she's caressing and I lower my head to suck at the nipple on her right breast. I move over and give her left nipple the same attention. She arches her neck and I move up and suck there too.

I feel her hand insinuate itself down to take my cock. As I fondle her breasts and nipples again, she begins to stroke my cock delicately. Her touch is tantalizingly light at first.

"Is this good? she asks, running her pre-cum slick fingers more firmly over my glans.

"It's great. I love your touch."

She massages my balls a little and then takes my cock in a much firmer grip and pumps it up and down. My head rocks back, air hissing out of my nostrils. I shut my eyes in pleasure. I thrust against her hand in time with her skillful motions.

"You're not close are you," she observes after a few minutes.

"No. I can last. At my age, I have too," I pant . Yeah with the chance of only one or maybe two erections a night, making what you've got last becomes important.

She moves in close and rubs her body against my cock and balls. I gasp under her humping pressure.

After that, we're silent for a while, just caressing, licking, sucking and rubbing against each other. We move over all the sensitive areas we can find, finally concentrating on each other's chests, necks and lastly, mouths. She takes my head, drawing me down to kiss her and I'm lost in her eyes for a moment before our lips meet. The kiss is soul shattering in it's intensity. I moan loud around her mouth, and grasp her head in return, deepening the kiss. When we break apart she looks at me again.

"I want you inside me," she whispers.

"I definitely want to be there," I husk, drawing my finger down her stomach.

She swallows as my fingers reach her folds. She's wet, very wet for me. She looks down at my hand and then down further to my cock. For the first time I sense a little nervousness on her part. Yeah, well I've seen that expression before with a smaller partner. I don't blame her. I've been told point blank more than once that I'm not easy to accommodate. In Nam...well let's not go there. I don't want to hurt Scully. I'd feel terrible if I did. I know a way to do this that might work though. I touch Scully's face and she looks back up.

"I know. Hey, I've been turned down before...I won't be offended...." I let my voice trail off.

She smiles and replies, "I...it's just been a while and I'm a little embarrassed to admit...um...well I'm short," she finishes, laughing.

I laugh too.

"Thank you for not stating the obvious. Yeah, I'm tall shall we say? I know it can be...awkward. But listen...uh... I had a way I used to do this with a shorter partner if you'd be willing to give it a go."

"Oh, I'm beyond willing," she replies, letting out a shaky, aroused breath.

"Now you're talking. Shift over and lie on your stomach," I pat the sleeping bag.

She rolls onto her stomach and I massage her back a little to warm her and relax her tension. I feel her muscles relax almost immediately. I move down and check her calf. It is bruised but I know it'll heal. I caress it gently.

"I'll rub this for you as it starts to heal. It should help the stiffness."

"I'd like that," she whispers.

I work my way back up and massage her gluts. I run my hands all over her luscious ass and she wiggles.

"I like a man with large hands," she whispers into the sleeping bag.

I give her a kiss on the butt and bark a laugh. She laughs again too. I reach over and grab one of the throw pillows, my erection bobbing and swinging as I do.

I tap Scully's hip, "Arch up," I tell her and when she does I place the pillow under her stomach and hips. She sinks back down on it and her ass is elevated towards me. I move over to straddle her thighs.

"Comfortable?" I ask, concern in my voice.

She props herself up on her elbows and glances back.

"Actually, I am," she nods and smiles.

"Sorry it's not as intimate seeming, but if I enter from behind I won't go as deep. It should...I've been told it's easier to take me this way," I reply looking down at my straining cock.

It's very embarrassing to tell her this little piece of information. Ok...yeah, I learned this the hard way from whores in Nam. I'm not about to tell her that part of the story. It's bad enough that I feel like my size is making this less enjoyable for her.

When I look back up she's studying me seriously.

"Walter, I want this to be good for you too. If you're not going to feel it as intensely, I can change positions. I want this to be about us, not just about me."

In that moment, under her compassionate, caring gaze, I think I do fall in love with her. I know I feel like I want to cry. It had been a long time since someone had cared about my feelings. Whether I experience joy or pleasure. I shift forward and kiss her lightly on the back of her neck. I straighten back up and run my hands over her ass and thighs. She trembles.

"This will be about us, Dana. If you keep your legs together and hold me once I'm inside you, it'll be more than enough. I don't want to hurt you and if I even think I might, I won't enjoy it. Ok?"

"All right. I...all right," she nods, turning her head forward again.

I shift closer and pull her hips up just slightly. I take my pre-cum and slick up my cock a little more. Finally I take my dick in my right hand and position it at her entrance. I hang onto one of her butt cheeks with my other hand and press into her slightly, guiding myself carefully. She doesn't tense up as I slip inside, which is good.

"Ok, hang on," I warn her before I make my first real thrust into her. I take both her hips and rock my hips forward.

"Oh," she whispers a little in surprise.

I stop and stroke her hip.

"You all right?"

"Yes...do it," she hisses.

I push forward steadily and she's tight but it's not difficult at all. I'm in as far as I can go before either of us have anything to worry about. She remembers my suggestion and keeps the part of me that's still outside her body, tight between her thighs. The sensation is different but not at all unpleasant. I feel a deep peace flood through my whole body to know we're connected at last and I didn't hurt her.

I drape myself forward, over her, taking my weight on my hands. I can nuzzle her neck and kiss her cheek a little. She's able to nuzzle me and rub her face against mine. We lie together for a little while so we can savor that feeling of being inside and being enfolded in this intimate embrace.

I feel her rubbing herself a little against the pillow beneath her. She's getting herself up again.

"Can you...is that going to be enough, under you, I mean?" I ask, breathing harder.

She rubs a little more firmly and when she answers her breath comes out with a sigh.

"Oh yeah. It's enough," she replies, panting and arching her hips back into me a little.

"You feel so warm. So remarkable." I whisper into her hair, "I love it when you move that way."

"I feel full, even this way. God, that does feel good. You're so hard and I can feel your cock throbbing against my thighs."

"That's my heart beating for you, babe," I growl into her ear. Then I chuckle because the words sound corny even to me. Hey, it may sound like a corny remark, but hell, it's the truth. She laughs in delight, and rocks back against my hips.

"Oh God," I moan.

We start to move together then, slowly at first until we figure out which rhythm is going to work best for us. Once we're rocking in sync I take her hips harder and start to speed up. I can tell that because of the angle, my cock's hitting her g-spot again.

"Mmmm," she whines slightly. I think she's having some discomfort so I slow down and then stop my thrusting. My question to her comes out in a ragged gasp.

"Am I hurting you?"

"God no. Don't stop. It...it just feels different. But Christ...it's good."

An inarticulate groan comes out of my throat as I renew my thrusts against her. She's rocking back now, meeting each pump. I'm helping her to rub her clit against the pillow with each push forward of my hips. I start to drive into her harder and then on one particularly strong back thrust, I slip out of her.

"Fuck! I'm sorry," I bellow, panting in her ear.

"It's ok. S'ok," she moans stilling under me. I shake my head, laughing a little.

"I'm not doing such a great job at staying on target."

"You're doing a great job hitting my bulls eye," she replies, gurgling her laughter.

"All right then. Let me just get my gun loaded again here," I pant, grabbing my cock and getting it back inline. I thrust back into her with one smooth motion, going in just a little more deeply this time.

"Oh, that's bbbetter," she stutters, clamping down on me with her thighs once more.

We start rocking together again, reestablishing our rhythm and start to lose ourselves completely in the experience. Both of us are grunting and starting to sweat. Perspiration's breaking out all over my head, neck and chest. I'm gone. Even though I boasted about being able to last I'm not going to be able to do it. I can feel my orgasm building fast in my groin. My balls pull up really tight. Scully must sense I'm about to shoot because she clamps down on my cock with her thighs even more tightly and that's all it takes. I open my mouth and roar as my climax crashes over me. I do my best to balance on my hands as my body starts to convulse.

"Fuck, fuck!" I cry against her back, my hips snapping and rolling against her ass and thighs. Ecstasy sears my nerves. I can't see or hear anything for a moment and then I fall back into myself with a crash. The sensation of utter bliss is incredible and I moan loudly, losing myself in it a little longer.

"Oh God you feel hot. I can...almost...oh Jesus," Scully cries out. I'm just barely aware that she's coming after me, crying out, and shuddering under my spastically thrusting hips.

"Oh baby...so tight," I grunt as she clamps down on me again. I'm breathing like a locomotive as I ride out the last few tremors moving through my body. Scully 's still rocking under me, riding her orgasm out too. She finally collapses flat as the pillow under her hips will allow. I fall out of her and roll off her. I roll to the side, onto my back, so I won't crush her under me.

Both of us lie there breathing hard for a couple of seconds then I shift over a bit more and reach for her, pulling her off the pillow and into my embrace.

"God, woman," I snort, laughing and stroking her back.

"No kidding," she kisses my neck and then my chest. I hold her while both of us stop shaking.

Finally our breathing returns to normal. I kiss her hair.

"Dana I..." I begin. I want to tell her how good she made me feel, but words are hardly sufficient, "I can't even tell you..." I finish, letting my voice, rough with passion, trail off.

"You just did, Walter. You just did," she replies, reaching over to pull one of the sleeping bags up around and over us. Before I realize it, I'm falling asleep with her in my arms.

xXx

When I wake she's not at my side. I look around quickly and see her standing nude, in front of the fireplace. Obviously she's piled more logs on because the flames are still high. She's standing more firmly on her injured leg and staring into the fire. I should have said she isn't completely naked. She has her watch on. As a matter of fact, she had it on while we were making love. She never did take that or her cross off. Both really must mean a lot to her. As I watch her, she brings her hand around to the front of her body and touches the watch on her wrist with a gentle caress.

I get up and walk to stand in back of her again. This time I take her arms quite readily and rub up and down her biceps freely. She rocks back against me. I kiss the top of her head.

"Happy Birthday," I murmur before I can stop myself. Shit. Why the hell did I say that? I expect her to tense up but she doesn't.

"I thought you might have read the inscription," she nods, the back of her head scraping my chest hair.

"I did. That...that was an invasion of your privacy. I'm sorry..." I want to say I'm sorry about her mother too, but I let the thought go.

She shakes off the rest of her melancholy and chuckles, "Well you've invaded my privacy quite thoroughly now, Walter."

I bark a quick laugh at the smile in her voice.

"I'm not going to call you on it," she adds.

I rumble my laughter and pull her close, hugging her tight.

"Thank you, Agent Scully."

"You're welcome, sir. And seriously - uh - this has been a very pleasantly memorable birthday all things considered," she replies rubbing her injured leg against mine.

"It went way beyond memorable for me," I whisper, "I just want you to know...I'll never forget this no matter what happens from here on out. And Dana...I...I won't hold you to anything. No obligations."

"Walter, we...we can talk about that later, ok? I...I don't think that's going to be an issue," I hear the gentle tone of her voice and my heart fills with hope that maybe this may lead to something after all. But, even though she sounds like she has absolutely no regrets I have to ask her anyway.

"Truthfully, though Dana. Are you all right with this? I mean...I am...but if..."

"Walter, it was wonderful. I wouldn't change a thing. I...not a thing, really."

She turns in my arms and I look down into her eyes and know she's telling the truth."

I don't know where this will lead and quite frankly I don't care. I have no idea where anything is going now. I haven't known since that night we fled the Hoover building back in July. I've been living my life day to day and you know what? I feel more alive than I have in years. Looking down into Scully's face I feel entirely human and entirely glad I am. I bend down and we kiss briefly not even minding that we both probably have - by now - afternoon mouth.

"Are you hungry?" I ask her with a smile when we break the kiss.

"For you," she purrs, reaching down to toy with my cock.

"God, you're insatiable," I laugh, involuntarily bucking into her hand. She starts to pump my stiffening cock.

The blast of gunfire makes us both jump so hard I think she's emasculated me for a moment.

"It's outside!" I blurt out, going instantly limp.

"The fire!" Scully exclaims.

Thinking fast, she rushes over to the pot of water that still sits there. She doesn't have a trace of a limp now. She's running on adrenaline as she hefts up the pot. I run over and pull the fire grating open as she throws the water onto the fire. I take up the last of the self melted pots as well and add it's contents to finish off the flames. I know it's probably too late but maybe by some miracle whoever is outside didn't see the smoke.

We scramble for our clothes, managing to pull on our pants. I'm bare chested and so is Scully. Modesty is of no consequence really, we have to hurry. I'm cursing under my breath at letting my raging libido bring our guard down. If I'd kept my zipper up...well fuck it, water under the bridge. We have to deal with this threat and deal with it fast. I grab my glasses and shove them back around my head. No screamer alarms are going off so no one is trying to breach our defenses as of yet.

Scully gets to her rifle and runs over to the dinner table and grabs mine. I'm thinking desperately that I forgot to reload our Smith and Wessons last night, cursing myself for my laxness again. I stride towards Scully and she tosses me my AK-47. I catch it on the run.

"I'll check the back windows. You check the front."

"All right, be careful," she admonishes me, serious, all business now.

I make a hasty surveillance of all the windows down the bathroom corridor and the window in the kitchen. It's stopped snowing but we did get a good amount. The sun shines bright and I see...nothing else. No armed men. As I'm coming back out of the kitchen I see Scully peaking around the tightly drawn shades over the front windows. She's pulled her boots and sweater on.

"Anything?" I whisper.

"No," she whispers back.

"Fuck. Where the hell are they?" I grate out through clenched teeth.

We hear another gunshot. This one sounds like it definitely came from behind the house.

"Come on," I gesture towards the kitchen wing.

We run quickly back into the kitchen and I check the side window, drawing back the curtains slightly. Scully stands behind me. I see it now - the dead deer lying at the side of the house. The fresh dead deer, it's blood spattering the clean white snow.

"Dead deer," I whisper, glancing back at her. She nods. I turn and look again. I can just see someone coming down the hill and into the gully that borders that side of the house. Two men, one short and the other taller, dressed in winter white camo. Shit.

"Two men. They look like pros. White camo."

"All right," she answers matter-of-factly. I hear her heft up the AK-47.

I can tell from their body language that they intend to check out the house after they reach the deer. I have to hope they were tracking the buck for a while and didn't spot our smoke. Or they were so intent on the kill they didn't notice the house was occupied. But their movements are lax as they come up out of the gully. They aren't really being as cautious as I would be in coming up on a strange, possibly hostile structure. Maybe they aren't pros. I watch them come up to the deer. It's about 20 feet from the house so I can't hear what they're saying but they seem to be having a minor altercation over it. Now I know they're stupid.

"What are they doing?" Scully asks.

"Making themselves easy targets," I comment with a feral grin.

Scully moves forward and peaks over my shoulder.

"I can drop them from here."

"No, wait..." I advise.

She shifts back, gun still at the ready. I continue to gaze out the window and see one of the men suddenly gesture towards the back door, excitedly. Oh shit. The dead dogs. They both leave the deer, failing around in the snow as they make a beeline in the direction of the kitchen door, their rifles re-slung over their backs. I'd almost laugh. They're pathetic. They'd be dead if I wasn't formulating a plan for them.

"They're headed for the back door," I whisper, crouching down.

"I can take them," Scully insists.

I look in her face and make an instant assessment and decision.

"No, listen. I think we can take these guys alive. We need information about that resistance group. Maybe these guys are part of it."

Scully raises her eyebrows, "The resistance is in trouble if they are."

"No shit. But look, Dana...I think that's why we can take them."

"How?" she hisses.

I can hear them just outside the back door. Muffled voices. I hear the words. "Shut up. It's more meat," hissed out and then they're silent. No more talking - just some soft thuds followed by squishing noises. It sounds like they're going to clean the dogs right where they fell. I guess it would be more easy to haul around hunks of carcass.

I motion Scully to move back. We hunker down, just outside the entrance to the kitchen, our guns across our laps.

"What's the op, sir?" she whispers, giving me a tense half smile. We revert to soldier mode again.

"I'm going to go out the front door and go around back. My bet is they put their guns down to mess around with those dogs."

She nods her head, "Dog stew."

"Exactly. If I go out I can probably get the drop on them. Wait by the kitchen door. When you hear me yell 'get your hands in the air', come out the back and help me cover them."

"Are you sure? I can come out with..."

"Dana, these guys are clueless. I think I can handle them."

She nods and without another word heads back into the kitchen. She listens carefully at the back door, nodding again to let me know they're still there. I have to hurry. I don't know how long it will take them to gut and cut up the dogs on the spot.

I hastily pull on my boots and sweater. I throw on my parka, pulling the hood up. I skip the insulated pants. I'll just have to hope I can get our guests in the back door fast enough so I don't freeze my nuts off. I do pull on my gloves. The one thing I do want warm are my hands on this gun.

I remove the purse alarm very carefully from the front door and lift the wooden bar up and back quietly. Then I open the locks, open the door, slip outside and shut the door behind me.

It doesn't take me long to walk quietly around the side of the house and then the kitchen wing. I stick my nose around the corner and sure enough, the two ski masked men are crouched down, their backs to me, using large hunting knives to butcher the frozen dog carcasses. Well those are dangerous but I doubt very much they'll be a match for hollow point bullets. Their own deer rifles are propped up against the side of the house. I shake my head again at their inattentiveness. I straighten up and walk quietly around to the back door. I train my rifle on them.

"Don't move," I hiss.

Both men freeze quite nicely.

"Oh shit," one of them mumbles.

"Shut up!" I command. "Drop the knives, get up and turn around slowly."

Both men slip as they hurry to toss down their weapons. They struggle to stand.

"Can we talk about this buddy?" the taller man asks in a high voice.

"Shut up," the shorter man blurts at him gruffly.

As they turn to face me I raise my voice and call out.

"I said shut the fuck up. Get your hands in the air!"

I can hear Scully hurrying on the other side of the door to throw back the bar and unbolt the locks. As she's doing it, I flick my head back, throwing my hood off. Yeah, I know what I look like. I want these too stumblebums to get a look at one mean son of a bitch so they know I mean business.

Scully comes bursting through the kitchen door. The taller man, turns quickly without really looking at me. He thinks I'm distracted by Scully's entrance on the scene and he starts to go for his rifle. The smaller man seems paralyzed. I put my gun up, aiming at the running man's legs and Scully points her locked and loaded AK-47 at the him as well.

"Don't shoot, baldy, don't shoot," the smaller man implores me.

"FREEZE!" Scully shouts.

"JESUS, SCULLY! DON'T SHOOT!" the shorter man screams hoarsely.

Scully stops dead in her tracks.

"FROHIKE!?"

"Scully! Dana Scully!" the little man cries, utter joy making his voice soar. The taller man stops running for his gun and pulls up, standing breathless. The smaller guy reaches up and pushes his hood down and snatches his ski mask off almost simultaneously. Melvin Frohike stands before us, glasses askew, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh my God!" Scully cries. Frohike dashes over and grabs her around the waist, barely giving her enough time to put her rifle down on top of one of the half butchered dogs.

I watch them hugging each other and crying together in a cloud of steam produced from the combined exhalation of their breath. Scully doesn't even notice the cold even though she's sans her parka. Frohike envelops her in his arms and swings them both in a circle. I observe them with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. If Frohike's here and this happy, Mulder has to be here too. Our search is over at last. I know I should be basking in the glow of happiness radiating from Frohike and Scully but in the back of my mind a niggling feeling of sadness encroaches into my heart. Mulder. Scully loves Mulder in some profound way.

What realistic hope can I possibly have here that she'll choose me over him? I shake my head in impatient aggravation at my own expectations. What had I said earlier? I won't hold you to anything, Scully? No obligations? So? Shit. Why should those words hurt so much right now? Why can't I live up to them I ask myself. I shove down my feelings and square my shoulders. I can live up to them if it's necessary for the greater good. I always do. I always will.

The taller man saunters over and I lower my rifle.

"Which one are you?" I ask him conversationally, lowering my rifle towards the ground. The man lowers his hood and removes his face mask, shaking out his long, stringy blonde hair. He pushes his heavy black rimmed glasses back up onto his nose.

"Langly. I guess for once I'd have to say I'm glad to see you AD Skinner," he replies, extending his hand. I reach out, take it and shake it vigorously.

"Where's Mulder?" Scully asks, drawing our attention to where she's holding Frohike back slightly and looking intently into his face.

Frohike smiles and pats her on the shoulder, "He's with us...well I don't mean with us...he's down in Aspen..." he bubbles.

Scully turns to me, tears cascading down her face, and I feel them spring into my eyes as well.

"Yeah, he's down there...but ladies and gentlemen...I think we have a problem," Langly interrupts.

Scully's attention flicks to him.

"Problem?" she asks carefully.

"Yeah. Krycek," Frohike growls, suddenly serious.

I feel my stomach lurch. I set my jaw and incline my head towards the kitchen door.

"Come inside. We need to talk."

xXx

All four of us clump in through the back door after Frohike and Langly retrieve their weapons. They clean the blood from their knives using fresh snow. The neglected rifles are slung over their backs.

I'm last in so I shut the door and lock us down again. The last thing that goes on the door is the screamer. I'm still surprised Scully could get that thing off the door in such a hurry without causing any racket.

All of us are cold and shaking a little, coming down off the adrenaline rush. Frohike and Langly divest themselves of their rifles, laying them on the dining room table. After I build it up again, we all go to stand by the fire for a few minutes, chaffing our arms. Soon we're warm and all of us have stopped trembling. I notice Scully is favoring her injured leg again slightly. I indicate the couch with a frown and inclination of my head. She raises an eyebrow but quirks a patient smile. She walks over to the couch and sits down. I remove my parka and the two Lone Gunmen shuck their white camo parkas and throw them over the dining room chairs. Frohike keeps up a running commentary during all of this activity.

He tell us the resistance group is headed by Mulder and unfortunately Alex Krycek, in a very uneasy alliance. They took over Aspen a week and a half ago, just after we cleared out as a matter of fact. Their group numbered 24 people and they either ousted the Aspen scavengers who refused to join them, or welcomed the more cooperative with open arms. Their numbers have now swelled to 50 individuals.

Krycek, Diana Fowley and Mulder were the ones who started the monkey wrenching at Nellis. Mulder and The Gunmen had been taken there together as it turned out. Krycek and Fowley were seemingly captured and brought in later. It was their explanation that they're duplicity in warning Mulder had been discovered and their punishment was internment, interrogation and indoctrination along with rest of the unlucky. At face value, Krycek had seemed an ally.

"Yeah, I think Krycek must have been a plant, now," Frohike admits, shaking his head in disgust.

"Either that or he took a really reckless gamble and let himself be captured in order to screw us for his own ends," Langly adds. "The guy always did have his own agenda."

We've finally gotten comfortable around the couch. Langly and Frohike have pulled up two dining room chairs and are facing Scully and I where we sit on the couch together. If they noticed the bedding strewn in disarray in front of the hearth or the fact we're sitting close together on the couch they haven't made any indication. I'm determined not to hide what's grown between Scully and I now. I mean I have no shame, and it's evident neither does she. I think all of us are too intent on exchanging this information anyway. Romantic entanglements are going to take a back seat here.

"What happened to Fowley?" Scully asks quietly.

"Dead at Nellis," Langly answers, taking a swig from his canteen.

We've all been sharing their water until we can refill our potted supply.

"We can't be sure what her agenda was I guess. She did take a bullet for Byers though," Langly adds.

"Byers is with you?" Scully asks in amazement, another smile on her face.

"Yeah. The gang's all here," Frohike smiles back, "Even Suzanne Modjeski. Byer's...John is really happy about that, I'll tell you."

Scully nods.

"What do you think Krycek's agenda is gentlemen?" I ask, cutting to the chase. That bastard is trouble on three legs. We really do have to formulate a plan to deal with him.

"That asshole son of a bitch. He told us you were both killed in DC. Mulder..." his voice trails off.

"Mulder what?" Scully asks, fear in her voice.

"Scully...Mulder wasn't the same after Nellis - at least not right away. He had...he had some shock induced amnesia..." Frohike begins.

"Yeah...he was knocked around pretty badly. He hardly remembered us even. His memory started to come back eventually," Langly adds, taking a last swig from his canteen. He slings it over the top of the chair he's sitting in.

"He didn't remember us?" Scully asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

"His memory was all jumbled up. He had you confused with his sister and he didn't remember the AD at all. It was pretty bleak for a while," Frohike answers with a sigh.

"And Krycek took advantage of it?" I ask.

"Big Time. I never did trust that bastard," Frohike shakes his head in disgust, "he showed Mulder photos..." he lets his voice trail off.

"Photos of your bodies." Langly finishes looking down at his hands.

"God," Scully breathes out.

"Mulder was just so disorientated at first. Later when he started to come back to himself, he half believed Krycek took the pictures and..." Frohike continues

"Photos can be faked," I grate out, interrupting him.

"I said half believed..." Frohike replies, frowning.

"Yeah, look...Mulder wasn't himself until just the last month or so. I think...I think he had it all balled up in his mind - the quest for his sister - trying to remember the two of you...trying to remember what Krycek did to him in the past...it was too much. He just got so damn bull headed and..." Langly tries to explain.

"And closed everyone out until he was sure he knew the truth..." Scully finishes for him in a quiet voice.

"Exactly," Frohike replies, nodding. "He'd gotten even more paranoid. He'd only pretend to listen to Krycek, and he'd hardly listen to us. I think he was marching to his own drummer most of the time and..."

"All right, I think we get the picture. I think we need to know what Krycek's game really is here. Look...what brought the uh...resistance to Aspen?" I ask wanting to move things along a little more quickly.

I can't quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice. Scully pokes me in the ribs and graces me with a peeved look. Well we'll table their ineptitude for now. But later I'm going to have to instruct these two resistance members on how to resist and not die while they're doing it.

Frohike catches our meaningful exchange and shrugs.

"Ok, yeah I know. We fucked up. But listen. We've been up and around here before. In fact, we were past this place day before yesterday and no one was home so we assumed..."

"Fine. How the hell did you get here from Aspen?" I ask.

"Snowmobiles," Langly cuts in, "we parked them just over the hill while we were tracking the wounded deer."

"Yeah, what was good for the yuppie tourists is good enough for the resistance," Frohike grins a little.

"Are you able to communicate with Aspen?" Scully asks.

"Yes," Frohike snaps his fingers, "I should..." he adds, reaching into the big front pouch like pocket of the oversized hooded sweatshirt he has on. He pulls out a small walkie-talkie.

"Maybe you shouldn't," I advise.

He looks up at me.

"I have to check in," he tells me with a voice that advises he really isn't a total moron. "If I don't, they'll send someone to check and it just might be the Czech himself. I take it that's not a good idea," he raises his eyebrows at me.

"You take it right, Mr. Frohike," I nod at him with more respect in my tone.

"All right. I'll keep it short and sweet. I'll also take it outside so it'll sound right," he replies, getting up. He makes his exit towards the kitchen.

"Don't forget to remove and then replace the alarm," I call after him.

I hear him mumble, "Tight-ass," as he walks away.

I smile.

Langly runs a hand over his face and rubs his eyes up under his glasses. When he readjusts his glasses he lowers his hand and speaks again.

"I think we know what Krycek's game is," he says.

Scully and I both raise our eyebrows in expectation of his explanation.

"He's after that kid, Gibson," Langly states.

"Gibson Praise?" Scully asks. She glances at me, shock on her face.

"Yeah, Krycek keeps telling us Gibson's the key to defeating the grays. Mulder has his own theories there but..."

"But he agrees you need to find the boy?" I ask.

"Yeah. We came up to Aspen mostly to recruit. We're going to need a hell of a lot more people for this rescue operation. Krycek found out the kids at Nellis. And that's not all..."

"He told Mulder his sister's there too, right?" Scully asked, anger in her voice.

"Exactly," Langly replies quietly.

"What makes anyone think he's telling the truth?" I hiss out.

"Well that's an interesting story. Byers didn't believe him for shit. He and Suzanne took a little side trip down to Nellis themselves before we came up here. They saw the kid - with his nursemaids too."

"Nursemaids?"

"Yes, from the description they gave, Mulder thinks it's that UN representative..."

"Marita Covarrubias?"

"Yeah, that's her. And someone else..."

"Let me guess..." I begin.

"Yeah," Langly nods, holding his fingers up and making a smoking motion towards his mouth.

"Fuck," I curse.

"That's what we said. Byers gave this information to Mulder personally incidentally. Krycek didn't hear about it."

"Good," Scully nods, "But what about Samantha?"

"Inconclusive. There's supposed to be a young woman there who might be his sister but we're just not sure.. But the kids there - that's documented. Byers took photos."

"We'll find them both if they're there," I reply.

"Also...and this is maybe the real reason we're up in Aspen though, besides looking for recruits I mean," Langly continues.

"He thought we were here," Scully whispers.

"Bingo. Some Air Force deserter Byers and Suzanne ran into on the way back to Aspen told them he'd seen you at Nellis. You couldn't have been dead in DC. He said you headed North back then and he'd recently heard about some altercation up in Aspen. A fight between looters, some mean, bald-headed son of a bitch and a red headed sharp shooter. So..."

"So, we came up to Aspen to look for you both too." Frohike finishes for him. He's tucking away his walkie-talkie as he comes back to the couch and resumes his seat on the chair in front of it.

I shake my head, smiling as I do at over the incredible coincidences that have brought us to this moment in time. It would seem that fate is working for us instead of against us for a change. Working for us even though it took a while to work it's spell. I become cautiously optimistic that we may be able to win the day here. Win the day against that slime ball Alex Krycek.

"Yeah, Mulder sent us out to recon. We were using a search for some fresh meat as a cover. So, I shot the deer," Frohike explains with some pride in his voice.

"The deer was fine Mel-vin. But I'm still drawing the line at dog meat," Langly mumbles.

"If you're hungry, you'll eat it," Frohike grumbles back.

"At any rate, we saw the dogs and yeah, we got a little suspicious when we saw they'd been shot. But..."

"Just remember to be a lot more careful next time, you guys," Scully admonishes them gently.

"Yeah, you'd think we would have learned by now," Langly replies fiddling with his glasses for a second. He lowers his hand and continues, "So we were casing this place anyway and looking for you two..."

Frohike interrupts again, "If we found you we were to report in and then Mulder'd decide what he was going to do about Krycek."

I raise my eyebrows.

"He'll kill him," Scully nods seriously.

"Not if I get to him first," I hiss between my teeth.

"Get in line," Frohike and Langly chime in simultaneously.

xXx

We begin immediately to make plans on approaching Aspen. We want to take Krycek by surprise. Frohike said it was Byers on duty at the radio, and even so he didn't tell him he'd found us. He'd said there had been no sign of us yet but they'd found fresh meat and would bring it back. It's probably 2 days hard traveling by snowmobile to Aspen. We'll be riding double but of course he didn't mention that either. It may take even longer. He told Byers he'd keep in contact and that they hoped to look for us a little longer, get one more deer, and then head back. That would account for our travel time.

The basic plan is for Scully and I to remain just outside of Aspen while Frohike and Langly report in. They're to get Mulder aside as quickly as they can and tell him the big news. After that Mulder's supposed to keep Krycek occupied while we sneak into town and then all of us will deal with him. The big ski lodge where they've taken up residence will be our rendezvous point. I guess Krycek and I are going to have a little apres-ski tete a tete. It can't happen too soon as far as I'm concerned. My violent hatred for that rat bastard is so close the surface it almost makes me tremble with the strength of it. I temporarily drive my anger out of my mind and concentrate on getting ready to mount this operation in full.

We decide to take the time to eat and re-supply ourselves. A haunch of venison cooks over the fire, tended by Scully so she can sit and rest her leg. The meat will serve for dinner. Langly goes outside and brings each snowmobile down in turn. Scully patches up her parka and insulated snow pants using some duct tape I find in the kitchen. She settles the problem of her torn jeans by discarding them and just changing into her insulated leggings and putting the long john pants over those. Frohike says there are plenty of clothes in Aspen. It's still a tourist trap even without the tourist business. The clothing stores are still stocked for the most part, despite the looting.

I go out and clean up the kitchen a bit. There's still some snow watered down dog's blood on the floor. I wipe that all up. I clear up the great room a little too. I just needed something ordinary to do for a few minutes. Something mundane to help me decompress. I've wanted to pick up our bedding for a while now mostly out of leftover modesty I guess. I grimace when I notice the cum stains on the throw pillow. Christ. I stuff the pillow against the couch back and put my sleeping bag over it. Luckily there aren't any tell tale stains on the bags at least. Once things are tidied up I turn myself to a much more important task.

I deal with all the weapons next, reloading, checking them, making sure everything's in working order. Langly helps me in this process and I'm pleased to see he also seems to have a facility with guns.

Finally I suggest we remain here one more night. It's getting on towards dusk and it becomes evident that all of us are exceedingly tired and leaving after dark wouldn't be a good idea anyway. Langly and Scully volunteer to cook the rest of our dinner. The venison, plus scrounged up cans of vegetables, some Minute Rice, and viola - a second, unopened bottle of Marsala wine will make up the meal.

Frohike and I go out to fill up the pots and buckets again so we can have fresh water to drink, cook, and also bathe in. While we're outside, Frohike checks in again at nightfall and tells Suzanne Modjeski, who is now manning the radio, that they're fine but tired and are going to take a little longer, resting up at that A-frame cabin they told them about earlier. Suzanne says Mulder wants to talk to him.

Hearing the agents voice coming over the walkie-talkie warms my heart but also makes my short hairs stand up. I listen with one part joy at hearing him, and one part dread for everything that lies ahead - including the idea our relationship is going to have a lot of reasons to change when we meet again.

Mulder sounds tired. He seems almost, but not quite, defeated.

"Any signs of Gandalf and Galadrial, Frodo? Over," he asks hopefully.

I smile at the 'Lord of the Rings' references.

"No in the flesh, Stryder. But we did find signs someone's been hanging around this cabin up here. No ones home right now though. Over."

"Really? Great. That...that's got possibilities. All right, but look, Frodo. Sauron's getting suspicious. Can you guys get back here fairly quickly? I want you to search but maybe we can give it a try in another few days. Over."

He sounds almost pathetically hopeful then. My throat closes off with emotion.

"Roger that, Stryder. Should I leave the usual message?"

"Roger. Leave my calling card. Over."

"Will do. Over and out."

"Calling card?" I ask as Frohike flips off the walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, this calling card," Frohike replies, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a vending machine sized bag of sunflower seeds with one of Mulder's old FBI business cards taped to it. He lifts the card up and shows me the message on the back.

S and S:

In Aspen. Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.

FWM

I bark a loud laugh. Frohike shrugs and laughs as well, putting the package back in his coat pocket.

"We have a box of these things on the back of my snowmobile. We've been leaving them all over the fucking West here. I would have left some inside and outside the house before we left.

"We would have found them I'm sure."

"Yeah. I know you would have," he grins tentatively at me, "You don't miss much, Gandalf."

I rumble more laughter and he does too.

"Listen, G-man. My stomach's touching my backbone." Frohike states.

"Yeah, let's get these buckets rounded up and go eat," I smile at the shorter man, clapping him on the back. I could get to like this guy. He's got potential.

xXx

Later, after we've eaten all of us are seated around the coffee table, finishing off our second glasses of wine. The fire light glows and dances, making interesting patterns all around the room. All of us are full, very mellow and content to just make small talk. Scully and I sit side by side, leaning back into the foot of the couch. Frohike sits with his elbows on the coffee table, head propped up on his hands. Langly is lying flat on the floor, his sleeping bag unfurled under him. He's been tossing a small hackey sack into the air off and on. The man has nervous energy even when he's lying prone.

I let my mind wander as Scully, Frohike and Langly trade road stories from the past 8 months. They stick mostly to the light side of our road life. No twisted tales of sticking letter openers in guy's necks or bashing heads in with rifle butts. The fried possum story gets a big laugh.

I watch Scully's animated face in the firelight. She looks so beautiful. At one point in the conversation I stretch my hand over absentmindedly and toy with the hair at the back of her neck. She doesn't object and I feel her shift her leg against mine. I stop and smoothly move my hand when I notice Frohike giving me an odd look. I guess overt displays of affection may not be the best idea yet. I don't after all, want this evening to dissolve into twenty questions about Walter's intentions.

Finally Langly sits up next to Frohike and tosses his hackey sack down next to his empty plate. He smacks his head lightly.

"Gheez. I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?" Scully asks, smiling.

"I have dessert," he grins.

"Oh yeah," Frohike starts to chuckle.

"Really?" Scully enthuses, suddenly very girlish.

I raise an eyebrow as Langly jumps up and strides over to the back pack that he brought in earlier. He opens it, rooting around. He pulls his hand out in triumph after a few seconds.

"Eureka!" he exclaims. "Catch boss," he adds tossing a cellophane wrapped package towards me. I snag it out of the air and drop it onto the coffee table.

"Cadbury chocolate bars!" Scully laughs.

"Yeah, yuppie candy," Frohike laughs.

"Just like the snowmobiles. Free for the taking all over Aspen. So, we liberated some for our trip rations. Help yourself," Langly explains coming back to join us at the make-shift dinner table.

To say the chocolate tastes like heaven wouldn't be a lie. I've had a secret sweet tooth all my life and I hadn't had chocolate in months. I feel like I'm sitting on cloud nine as I chew. Scully is obviously transported somewhere else as well. All of us eat two bars a piece when Langly says he has another package in his pack.

At last, dinner's really over and Scully pushes back from the coffee table.

"I'd better clear up some of these dishes."

"I'll help," I offer.

"I would too but I need to...well I need use the facilities," Langly advises.

"I can help clean up," Frohike offers.

"No, Frohike, that's ok. We can handle it. Why don't you add some logs to the fire," Scully replies, smiling at the grizzled Lone Gunman.

"Ok. Great," he nods, getting up.

Langly saunters off towards the bathroom as Frohike heads to the hearth. Scully and I pick up our plates, and silverware and head for the kitchen.

When we're inside the kitchen proper, out of view and out of earshot, I put my plate and silverware down in the sink. So does Scully. I walk quickly to her and take her into my arms in one swift motion. I pull her close, bend down and kiss her hard. I pour every ounce of feeling I have for her into that kiss. My head swims with the emotion. When I pull back she's gasping, her lips swollen.

"I had to do that. I don't know when I'll be able to do it again. I couldn't resist," I whisper. I push her back slightly but continue to hold her hands.

"Walter..." she begins, smiling shyly up at me, breathless with arousal.

Someone clears their throat behind us. I release her hands and turn around. She looks past me. Frohike. Oh great. I guess he got a show for sure.

"I...I just thought I'd bring these in," he interrupts in a soft voice. He lifts his and Langly's plates and silverware up towards us. All four glasses are stacked on top of the plates as well.

"Oh, here, let me take those," Scully flusters, walking around me toward Frohike.

Frohike carefully hands her the stack. She takes it over to the sink and puts it in. We're going to wash them in one of the new pots of hot water that melted next to the hearth.

"Should I help wash?" I ask.

"No. Uh, I can handle washing. Why...why don't you and Frohike go back in and relax a little more," Scully replies, glancing at us as she takes a bar of soap from the bathroom and a dish rag in hand.

"All right," I answer, turning towards Frohike. "Come on," I incline my head towards the great room.

As soon as we're back by the couch Frohike puts his hands up.

"Hey, it's none of my business. I don't need to hear about it," he states, trying to head off anything I might possibly say.

"I wasn't inclined to discuss it," I rumble, taking a seat on the couch.

Frohike stands in front of me for a second, his hands on his hips. I can tell he's reconsidering making it his business.

"I have only one thing to say..."

I give him a quelling look but he continues on.

"Mulder and..."

I sigh and he becomes silent.

"Frohike...sit down...please."

He nods and sits down on the other side of the coffee table. I lean forward, my elbows on my knees.

"Mulder loves her, man," Frohike whispers and I lower my head for a moment. Christ I know Mulder loves her. Scully loves Mulder. I respect Mulder and I love Scully. Now what? I think. God knows.

"Listen, Frohike. I know he loves her. I'm pretty damn sure she loves him too. We've been searching for him across half the friggin' United States for 8 months so that woman in there can find him either alive or dead and get some closure. Believe me I know what she feels for him."

"Then what was going on in there?" he gestures with his head towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, well...I guess you could say that's a little complication."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah. I...I guess Scully's going to have to give this all some thought. It...it is her choice, Frohike. You know that don't you?"

"The choice to choose between the two of you? You expect her to do that?"

"She'll have to choose something, man. And I'll respect whatever choice she makes. I already told her that, Frohike. I told her I wouldn't hold her to anything. No obligations."

"You fucked her?" he blurts out.

I stare at him hard, "Don't ever use that word in reference to her in my presence again," I hiss, deadly serious.

Frohike goes a bit white and runs a hand up under his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I...it just slipped out. Look, you're right, this isn't any of my damn business."

I nod, straightening up.

"Frohike...I mean it. I won't pressure her. It's her choice. I won't stand in her way if she chooses Mulder."

Frohike studies me carefully for a moment and then he makes a move of dismissal with his hand. He shakes his head in self depreciation and gives me a tired grin.

"Ok. I've got it, Gandalf. Yeah. I guess shit happens. God knows I've seen and done enough on the road to realize we're all living day by day. Stuff happening between you and Scully - well I've seen it before. I can't...who am I to criticize anyway...he finishes looking to the side as Langly comes back from the bathroom.

A soft expression passes over Frohike's face as the taller man walks towards us. I raise an eyebrow. The look is pretty unmistakable although he covers it well before Langly joins us by the couch. Well maybe there's a second road trip romance brewing here. I shrug and just concentrate on being thankful Frohike's going to let this slide. He doesn't say a thing to Langly and I'm glad of that as well.

xXx

At sun up the next morning we stand outside the A-Frame with our re-supplied packs and snowmobiles. The remainder of the deer has been strapped to the back of Langly's vehicle. No danger of it thawing out. We ditched the dog meat. Langly won out on that one. We'll get another deer eventually. Langly and Scully have their back packs strapped to the back of the snowmobiles as well. They're going to need to accommodate riding in tandem so we need the extra space on the seats.

I lock up the house just like it's a real home. I did find some spare keys hanging in the spice cabinet in the kitchen. So, I guess the place is just as good as ours now. It will have some good memories regardless. I walk over, my pack on my back and my AK-47 slung over my shoulder. I'm going to drive one snowmobile with Scully riding behind me. Frohike'll pilot the second with Langly riding behind him. Lucky these are the snowmobiles from one of the ski lodges. They're larger commercial models and can take us all and our supplies without too much trouble.

Langly stows his rifle in the case that hangs on the side of the snowmobile I'm driving.

"Take good care of her. She's a noble yuppie machine," he jokes, pulling down his insulated mask over his face.

"Will do, masked man," I grin back pulling my goggles down over my mask and glasses.

"I gotta get me some of those goggles," he gives me a toothy smile and I chuckle as he leaves my side and advances towards his ride, Frohike in the drivers seat. He climbs on behind Frohike and takes hold of the smaller man's waist.

"Ok, troops, time to move out," Frohike calls over to us.

"Lead on, Mr. Frohike, I'm right behind you," I call back.

Frohike turns his ignition and so do I. I release the brake and Scully and I drive in behind him as the smaller Lone Gunman gives his vehicle the gas, driving the snowmobile off into the morning light.

xXx

"I think that's Krycek. Yes, yes it is," Scully whispers, looking through the binoculars.

Both of us are lying on a bluff overlooking the ski lodge where we'll shortly go down to confront Mr. Krycek and settle our debts. There are lights here and there all over Aspen. It looks like a fantasy land - a little like the tourist Aspen of what we're starting to think of as the before times. Frohike had told us they brought fuel with them and found some there as well. They'll bring in more as they can. The lights are on as often as they can use the portable generators.

It took us two days to get to Aspen. We encountered some more snow and we had to stop to refuel anyway. Frohike and Langly had a half way camp much to my relief and surprise. I had asked them about that before we left and was informed that they had left gas and some food in a cave between the cabin and Aspen. We spent a cold night in that cave, cooking some venison over a fire and then bedding down together in sleeping bags. Scully and I doubled up in one and Frohike and Langly doubled up in the other to share body heat.

But by the next evening we'd arrived just outside Aspen. Frohike and Langly stopped at a small utility building on the bluff overlooking the ski resort where the resistance had established its base of operations. There was electricity to the shack and we could just see the glow of a light bulb under the door.

"It's manned. Guard post," Frohike had hissed.

"One, maybe two sentries. Stay back," Langly advised.

They went ahead and the guard accosted them from the shadows outside the shack. Suzanne Modjeski. The shock on her face when we made our appearance was quite a sight. After explanations were made all around, Suzanne told us Mulder and Byers were in the post office across the street from the ski resort trying to hook up a PC over there. She had seen Krycek going up the street earlier carrying a sack. He was walking towards the sole electronics store in the immediate area. She figured he was going to bring back something they needed for the PC.

Frohike and Langly left the three of us on the bluff by the guard shack and went down into Aspen. The first part of our plan was about to begin.

Now Scully and I were lying on our stomachs staring down at the street below. Frohike and Langly had gone into the post office quite some time ago and not come out. Now Krycek was coming back down the street, improvised shopping bag in hand.

Suzanne crouches behind us, her second set of binoculars at her eyes.

"He's heading straight back to the post office."

"Ok. It's almost show time," I whisper.

Krycek reaches the post office door and goes inside. No one comes out again for what seems like an eternity. Then Scully jumps slightly.

"The door's opening,"

I motion for Suzanne to hand me her binoculars. She complies and I ram them in front of my goggles.

Krycek comes out of the door first - hard. He stumbles. It looks like someone shoves him from behind. It's Mulder. He's right behind him. Mulder's dressed only in a sweater, jeans and hiking boots. I can see the white, explosive puffs of breath coming out of his mouth. Krycek's in handcuffs. Mulder has a gun pointed at his head. Oh fuck. This is not as planned...and it doesn't look good.

Frohike and Langly come tumbling out of the post office door, arms waving in panic. Frohike turns and looks up the bluff, arms wind milling frantically.

"The shit's hitting the fan. Come on Scully," I growl, handing the binoculars to Suzanne.

"Should I..." Suzanne begins.

I know she's going to ask to back us up.

"No, stay here. Man your post," I order lapsing instantly into soldier mode.

Scully stands up, her rifle at the ready, the binoculars swinging from her neck.

"Can you hit a target at this distance?" she asks Suzanne.

"Yes," she nods matter-of-factly.

"Then cover Krycek," she advises.

I'm already heading down the steep slope as she falls in behind me. It's slippery going and we can't go too fast or we'll pitch down the hill. By the time we're at the bottom of the slope, Mulder has Krycek down on his knees, facing us, in the middle of the snow covered street. Krycek's head is bowed and Mulder has the gun pointed at the back of his head. It's silent except for the drone of the generators that are scattered around us near the various buildings. Frohike and Langly have lapsed into silence and are standing close by, stunned looks on their faces.

Scully and I stop our forward descent at last, straighten up, our guns held loosely in our gloved hands. We walk slowly over toward the two men. Mulder is still breathing hard. Scully tears off her ski mask and throws it on the ground so that Mulder can see her face. I take mine off and throw it down as well.

"Mulder?" Scully asks tentatively.

His head snaps up and I suck in my breath slightly. He's fuguing. I mean he's lost it. I've seen that look before on soldiers in the field. Men get that look when the urge to kill rises in their blood like a bad fever dream. Someone's going to die here tonight and it's pretty obvious who Mulder thinks that someone should be.

"Scully," he whispers. "Sir," he adds shakily looking briefly in my direction.

"Agent Mulder," I reply, marshaling up my best AD voice.

I see him twitch at my tone but there's little other reaction. I was going to try to tell him to put the gun down but I don't think it would do any good. As much as I've thought about killing this bastard myself when it comes right down to it, I guess if Krycek's cuffed and helpless he deserves his day in court. Oh, it's not compassion that makes me say that, however. No, it's only because even after all that's transpired I still have a shred of devotion to duty left. An obligation to uphold justice and the law that every federal officer has ingrained in his or her bones.

Evidently, so does Scully.

"Mulder...put the gun down," Scully whispers. As much as she wants to see Krycek dead I can tell from her stance and tone that she too wants to see justice done.

"Why?" he asks.

"Yes, tell him why," Krycek speaks at last, blowing blood out of his mouth.

His breathing has been very shallow as he kneels in front of us - almost panting. Now he raises his head and looks at us. His nose is clearly broken, his mouth bloody.

"God," Scully whispers.

"I don't think God has anything to do with it," Krycek lets out a gurgling chuckle.

"Shut the fuck up, you prick," Mulder growls. The gun shakes for a moment but then comes back to rest. "I'll tell them why, and then I want you to tell them what I want them to hear."

"Mulder, come on..." I begin to try to reason with my former agent. Before I can say anything else Mulder starts to speak again.

"You should die in the street like a dog because you killed my father. You helped kill Scully's sister. You helped abduct Scully and you fucking infected AD Skinner with the God damned nanocytes. Isn't that enough, you bastard?"

"You left out betraying you in Russia, tovarishch. Oh and my telling you Scully and that bald headed son of a bitch were dead too," he replies with a hoarse chuckle.

"Jesus, Krycek. Shut the fuck up. You're not helping," I grate out around clenched teeth.

"Jesus? Krycek? Hmmm. Those two names sound almost simpatico don't they?"

"Fuck you," I snarl.

Scully lets out a small gasp. Krycek's head swivels towards her and for a brief moment I almost think I see some softer emotion instead of contempt on his face. But it's too swiftly gone to be sure.

He looks back at me with disdain in his eyes, spits blood on the ground and grinds out, "I'm so tired of you, Skinner."

I think I hear him mumble something else that sounds like "I'm so tired...period," before he spits a second, huge gob of bloody saliva in my direction.

"You asshole," I hiss at Krycek. "Mulder, how can you want to stain your hands with this cocksucker's blood?"

"Stain. It'll be a cleansing sir. A...a washing away of a great many...a washing away..." he lets his voice trail off.

Byers has come out onto the post office porch to watch in mute dismay. Other people are coming out now too. Other members of the resistance obviously awakened despite the late hour, by the noise. Only a handful are out right now and they all stand and watch, transfixed at the tableau in the street. Mulder is distracted for a moment and I walk a little closer. Mulder's attention snaps back and he waves the gun at me.

"I'd prefer you stayed back sir. I don't want to take any chances."

"With him or me?" I ask sarcastically.

Krycek laughs again, "You're a dead man anyway, Skinner...eventually. Hell, I should have used that palm pilot again a long..."

Mulder steps forward before Krycek can finish his words. He smacks him in the back of the head with the butt of his Smith and Wesson. Not enough to knock him out, but enough to send him sprawling forward onto his face.

"Please, Mulder! That's enough!" Scully pleads, anger and a touch of fear filling her voice.

"Mulder!" I shout in warning.

"No it isn't enough. Alex has something to say to you both," Mulder insists. He walks forward and taking a firm grip on the side of the cuffs attached to Krycek's good arm, Mulder drags him back up to his knees.

"Now, face them you fucker and say it. SAY IT NOW!" Mulder leans over and shouts into his ear, the gun pointed at Krycek's temple.

Krycek raises his head, and glares defiantly at us.

"I said say it!" Mulder snarls. Krycek mumbles something.

"Louder," Mulder shakes him hard and points the gun at the back of his head again.

"I'm sorry," Krycek replies in a much louder voice.

I glance over at Scully. Her eyes are bright with tears. She's beginning to realize, just as I am, that Fox Mulder's gone. The Mulder we once knew might be inside there somewhere but right now, everything that he's been through has crushed everything he was, and what he is now has coalesced to a burning point of hate. That point is the man kneeling in front of him on the snowy street in Aspen, Colorado.

"For?" Mulder prompts, his voice hoarse.

Krycek nods his head once. Blood oozes out of his nose.

"For Scully's sister. For Scully's abduction. For Russia, and even for your father, Mulder. Yeah. I'm sorry."

"What about Skinner?"

"Skinner?" Krycek replies, looking over at me balefully, "Can't you just shoot me?" he asks.

"GOD DAMN IT!" I roar. "Yeah, go ahead, Mulder, shoot the bastard. I'm sick of listening to his shit anyway."

Krycek chuckles again, "Get it over with Mulder, you've got to be freezing your balls off."

"Tell the AD you're sorry," Mulder whispers, pulling the gun up slightly.

"All right. Fine. Skinner...I'm sorry about the nanocytes. There...happy now Mulder?"

"Very," Mulder whispers as he steps forward and puts the barrel to Krycek's skull.

It was evident Krycek thought Mulder didn't really have the balls to shoot. To tell you the truth up until almost the last second I didn't think he did either. But with the loud crack of the Smith and Wesson in the night air, Fox Mulder proves both of us wrong. The last expression on Alex Krycek's bloodied face is one of astonishment before the bullet blows that expression off and what's left of his head hits the snow in front of him.

Scully gasps and then cries out. I know I curse, yelling "Fuck!" about the same time Frohike does. Then Scully runs forward. She runs directly to Mulder who's standing, blood spattering his sweater and jeans - standing, and shaking and silent over Krycek's dead body.

I watch as she runs to him, slinging her gun back up onto her shoulder, skirting Krycek's corpse. She flings her arms around Mulder and clings to him convulsively. He drops his gun in the snow, brings his arms up slowly and then grabs her hard. He yanks her to him, tucking her head under his chin.

"Scully. Scully," he whispers, stroking her hair.

"It's all right Mulder. I'm here. I'm here and I'm not leaving."

Byers, Frohike and Langly head over to where Mulder and Scully are standing. Frohike approaches first and touches Scully's arm gently, pointing towards the ski lodge. Scully nods but hugs Mulder a little tighter. Byers indicates with his head that Langly should go on ahead. I see him also wave up the hillside signaling Suzanne that the parties over although I'm sure she was watching it all unfold. Langly heads off quickly towards the lodge.

Snow starts to fall as Frohike walks over to where I stand, staring at my two former agents. My two...my two friends embracing over a man I had wanted to mete out justice to myself. The shortest Lone Gunman reaches up and throws a hand around my shoulders. He can barely reach but I appreciate the gesture.

"Boss," he coughs, turning me towards the lodge. "Why don't you go inside with Langly, Mulder and Scully and...and have a drink. Byers and I will round up some of these other guys here and take care of the body. We'll...we'll do some explaining too," he murmurs soothingly. I look down on his kind face. There isn't anything else to do really. Right now a drink, several drinks sounds like a very good idea to me.

"Yeah, I could use a drink."

"Shit me too. We'll join you soon," he nods, taking his arm away.

I straighten my shoulders, drawing myself up a little. Frohike walks off towards Byers and I just notice him start to motion toward some of the men and women who are not gathering in the street. I turn my attention back to Mulder and Scully. I walk over, carefully avoiding Krycek's still form. I move over to them where they still stand very close, her arm around his waist.

"Mulder," I begin, my AD voice coming back into use again.

"Sir?" he asks drawing his eyes away from Scully.

For a moment I see the look of adoration for her in them and my heart sinks. But I shake it off because for the first time I also see Mulder smile. It's a genuine smile ...and it's directed at me.

"It's good to see you, sir," he sighs, putting out his hand. I take it and shake it firmly, pinning his eyes. His eyes are calm, clear and lucid. Fox Mulder is definitely back in residence. I smile at him.

"It's good to see you too Mulder," I reply in a much more gentle voice. "Now let's get inside before we freeze our asses off out here."

Scully clears her throat, and hugs Mulder tight.

Mulder smiles down at her, looks back up, nods and replies, "Yes sir...let's get warm again."

EPILOGUE

Tuesday, July 4, 2000 Aspen, Colorado. 1 AM.

I stand on the porch of the ski resort, my gun slung over my shoulder, and survey the quiet street. Almost everyone's turned in now. My watch shift is ending. It's a gorgeous spring night, crisp and cool, but clear and comfortable. My rounds past all the other sentries were easy. I don't think Frohike will mind when I wake him up to take his shift at watch.

I stretch and shift my head around so my neck cracks. I'm a little stiff from having to act as assistant mid-wife to Dana Scully again today. The father was supposed to act as coach but he passed out. I was pressed into service. I'll be glad when we get a second doctor here so she and I will both get a break. This is the third kid I've had to help deliver and although I rather enjoy it, I'm always drained afterwards.

I told Byers that if he passes out when Suzanne gives birth in four months, I'll kick his ass. I walk down the steps, taking the gun off my shoulder as I go. I use the flashlight attached to it to light my way as I start to make one last circuit around the lodge. When I reach the back, I stop underneath the large pine tree there and stand over the mound of dirt under it. The headstone is crudely marked AK and that's all.

Krycek's last resting place. We cremated him actually. Kept the ashes until the ground was soft and then interred them here. I have a fleeting thought run through my mind. I think that if I had to take a leak I'd whip out my dick and piss on his grave. I shake my head in self disgust. He doesn't deserve that really. The man was a soldier in what he thought was a just war, no more, no less. He did what he did to survive and further his cause. He's not that different from all of us in that way. I can't denigrate him any longer. I was out from under his thumb way before Mulder shot him in the head. I can afford now to be totally free of him and any lingering hate I harbor for him.

Scully has forgiven Krycek. I think Mulder has forgiven him. At least he's come to terms with his hate for him. More importantly Mulder doesn't hate himself as much any longer. Krycek's death served to heal Mulder in ways we can't ever hope to understand. I still have a twinge of regret that Krycek died at Mulder's hands but...I have to let those feelings go as well.

We've come full circle I think. All of us. New lives coming into the world. Some lives leaving it. But our numbers have increased and not just from the births. News of our group has spread by word of mouth since February. We are 356 strong now and soon, within the week, a large contingent will move out for Nellis air force base. The rest will go up into the mountains to the shelters we've hidden there. The core group, headed by Byers and Suzanne, Scully and Mulder will go to the cabin Scully and I found back in February. Me. I'll head South. Yeah, I'm leading the cavalry. It's going to be up to me, Frohike, Langly and our group to rescue Gibson Praise. We're going to try to find Mulder's sister if she's down at Nellis as well.

That Air Force deserter, Lieutenant Roger Morris, joined us a month ago. He brought us a lot of news. News that other rebel forces are on the move. News that the gray's front lines are starting to crack a little. Humanity is starting to resist. No one will serve. Mankind would rather die fighting than do so.

Morris brought news that Gibson Praise was still at Nellis. The key to the aliens true defeat was still alive. He'd seen him walking around in the compound during a few of the boy's outside exercise periods. We had, of course, kept tabs on the boy as well. I made a trip down there during May to scope out the territory myself. We had all seen the kid outside during his escorted exercise times. I'd seen Marita and that Cigarette Smoking son of a bitch too. That Morley sucking shit is in for on hell of a surprise soon, that's for sure.

As far as we could tell Gibson was fine. Maybe he's just there under protective custody. But, none of us can be sure. Nellis is a busy place - busy in bad ways. It's vitally important we get the kid out. Over the past month we've been preparing to do so.

I have a good feeling about this mission, however. So do Mulder and Scully. I remember that night I told myself I wanted to ask Mulder why I suddenly knew he wasn't dead. I did ask him shortly after we got here. He laughed and said, "I knew deep in my heart that you and Scully were still alive too. Do I know why? Let's call it a lucky hunch and leave it at that, sir"

But you know, I don't think it was just a hunch. I don't believe Mulder really thinks so either. I think...I think we have some mojo working between us as Roger Morris is so fond of saying. He said his mojo told him to desert because what was going on at Nellis was way wrong. I think Scully's mojo told her Mulder was alive and so did mine. My mojos telling me that we'll bring Gibson back and Mulder's sister too. After that I'm not sure. But if Gibson's the key to defeating the grays then I have to hope he's got an extra strong mojo too.

I end my musing over Alex Krycek's grave and head back around the building to the front porch. I glance at my watch. 2 AM. Time to wake Frohike.

I unlock the front door and open it, walking quietly inside. I shut the door and re-lock it behind me. Once I'm inside I detach the flashlight from the end of my gun and shift the rifle strap over my shoulder again. I shine the flashlight towards the staircase leading to the second floor.

The bedrooms are upstairs. I tread very softly at the head of the stairs. Byers and Suzanne are in the first bedroom to the right. I know Suzanne has some trouble sleeping. She's huge. Scully's worried she might even be carrying twins. Another reason to hope we get that second doctor that Roger Morris left town a week ago to find. He's familiar with so many of the small groups in the area he thinks he knows where there's an internist. If anyone can find him it'll be Roger.

I pass my room on the left, and walk on to Frohike and Langly's room. Yeah, their room. I grin a little. At least it's quiet in there tonight I think as I reach their door. Once or twice I walked past here on my way out on watch and heard them going at it hot and heavy. Yeah, young love. There's been quite a lot of that around here lately. I'm happy for those two though. They make an odd looking couple, and they bicker like hell half the time, but I can tell they're happy.

I prepare to knock but a voice stops my hand.

"Don't knock Gandalf. I'm up," Frohike grumbles from inside. I hear him fumbling around, probably pulling on his glasses and then his boxers. I hear Langly's sleepy voice.

"Be careful, Frodo."

I hear the wet sound of two mouths playing over each other, then Frohike chuckles.

"Hold that thought," he laughs. Langly laughs too and then I hear him shift back beneath the covers.

Frohike comes to the door and cracks it. He's actually wearing his jeans and hiking boots.

"Sorry. I was almost ready."

"S'ok. I can wait."

He smiles, nods and shuts the door. In only a few moments he's out, fully dressed rifle slung over his shoulder and flashlight in hand.

"Anything interesting?" he queries, stretching a little.

"No. It's quiet. It's a nice night."

"Ok. See you later, boss," he throws back over his shoulder as he clumps off toward the stairs.

I watch him walk down. When he disappears from my sight line, I turn and walk back to my bedroom. I shut off the flashlight, quietly unlock the door and slip inside. Steady breathing comes from the bed. I carefully place my gun on the rack just inside the door and hang the flashlight on the hook below it. I start to undress as silently as I can. I must make a small noise because when I stand up straight, naked, in the dark - a sleepy voice comes from the bed.

"Walter?"

"Yeah, babe. I'm sorry I woke you."

"That's all right. Come over and get warm."

"It was a great night out, Dana. I didn't get cold."

"Well then come over and make me warm," a decidedly masculine voice chuckles from the bed as well.

"Fuck you," I bark a laugh.

"As I recall you did, last night," Mulder teases, reaching over and turning on the night stand halogen lantern.

Both of my lovers sit up in bed, smiling groggily at me. I can tell they're more than just sleep tousled. Mulder has a new, large hickey on his neck next to the one I put there last night. Yes, young love. Like I said, there's been quite a lot of that going on around here.

In our case it came down to the simple fact that Dana Scully couldn't make a choice between us. So she chose us both. We discussed the matter and all parties were in agreement. Dana would take Mulder and I both as lovers. At first we did the take a number routine. You know, if this is Tuesday it must be Walter? At any rate that worked out fine for several months.

Then one night Mulder asked me to make a choice. It wasn't a choice I'd ever made before. But, to be truthful it wasn't one I hadn't thought about. No, I'd thought about Mulder a number of times back during our days together at the Bureau. So on my 48th birthday I chose. I have to say it's been a very pleasurable choice.

Yeah, I turned 48, and Mulder and I became lovers that night. I was clueless. Mulder on the other hand obviously had a tad more knowledge regarding men loving men. It was lucky he did and was more than delighted to share his expertise with a novice. I told Scully later that my 48th birthday counted as the second most memorable birthday I'd participated in, in a long time. The other had of course, been that night in the cabin, with her, on her birthday.

I yawn suddenly, interrupting my own musings. I suck in a lot of air expelling it in a whoosh. Scully giggles a little and pushes Mulder over.

"Hey!" he exclaims, laughing and wriggling out of the way.

"Come on G-man, Walter's beat. Let him play monkey in the middle tonight. We can all keep each other warm that way," Scully insists, rolling over onto her side and fluffing up the pillow beneath her head.

"Yeah, Mulder. Sleep now. Nookie later. You two look like you've had your fun tonight anyway," I tease him. Frohike's going to never let him live those hickey's down tomorrow.

"All right, Gandalf. I'll just have to wait for 'your' special brand of magic," Mulder jokes back. He gets up and waves me over to the spot next to Scully. "Climb in, boss."

I let my eyes travel in appreciation over his naked body for a moment, and then I saunter over and climb in next to Dana, stroking her ass with my cock as I do.

"Hmm. Nice," she purrs, wiggling against me. I lie down next to her and spoon close. Mulder clicks off the lantern. I feel him climb in and scoot up next to my back. I can feel his soft cock skin at the cleft of my ass. He pulls the covers up around us and then he drapes an arm around my middle. I drape my arm over Dana.

"G'night, Walter," he kisses my neck.

"G'night Walter," Scully adds, drawing my hand up and kissing it.

"G'night," I wiggle back and forth between them so they both get an intimate stroking.

I settle down at last. It's quiet for a moment, and then Mulder speaks.

"Good night, John Boy."

"Shut up, Mulder," Scully and I both chorus in unison.

Mulder cracks up, and then so do we. Scully's gentle laughter and Mulder's more raucous tones are like music to my ears. A lullaby for my new life. I drift off to sleep, held in their embrace...a smile on my face.

xXx

*Second authors note: Ok. Now, if I told you that The Lone Gunmen show up, Krycek dies, there's M/SK, M/SK/SC and MSR in this thing I would have ruined all the surprises, wouldn't I? I sincerely hope I didn't offend anyone because of these sins of omission. Like any good poker player I hate to reveal my hand. If I did offend however, please accept my humble apologies.

Bests,
frogdoggie

-THE END-