Hang onto your hats, boys and girls, this one's going to be long!

(the disclaimer *and* the story)

Okay, this story lovingly portrays characters from two television

series. Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and any mention of previously written

X-Files belong to Chris Carter (god), Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox

Television. Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio, Lieutenant Welsh, Inspector

Thatcher, Elaine, and Agent Ford are inventions of the great minds of Paul

Haggis, Jeff King, and Kathy Slevin, and belong to CTV and Alliance

Communications Corporation (I'd include CBS, but the friends of Due South

will understand why I don't...). They're not mine, I don't make any claim

on them, other than borrowing them and playing 'doll' with them. They're

back with their owners and I didn't harm them (well, not permanently,

anyway ;). I'm a poor student with practically no money to pay next

month's rent, so suing me would be an exercise in futility. (*Please*

don't hurt me!) The other characters are mine! (Okay, Chantal isn't

mine, she's a real person, but she was all for it when she found out she'd

be licked by the Mountie -- too bad that didn't happen, but I think she'll

like the ending even more. ;) Some spoilers for both shows, but I'm too

lazy to go back and figure out which episodes apply.

Of course, this story might not have been made if CC had admitted

to the deep love between his two lead characters but would he listen to

us????? Noooooo!!!!!! Well, this is what happens when you don't...

Bwaaaaa haaaa haaaaa!!!!!!!

This is the PG version of my story. If you're not a minor and

want something a little more 'interesting', then I recommend you read that

version. For those of you who are minors and chose to read this version,

I congratulate you. :) You won't be going blind.

I began working on this story last August (when I was trying to

write my Master's thesis on something closely related to apoptosis and

failing miserably, but I've since managed and I'll be getting that diploma

anytime soon...) I used what I thought was an original idea: a genetic

mutant that regrows parts of its body. Then, this Friday, I found out a

few things about the next X-Files episode, Leonard Betts, and I thought

"Gee, doesn't that seem familiar?" So, in order to not look like I'd

stolen someone else's idea, I cranked out the rest of the story yesterday

(about 70K - which meant sitting at my computer for 15 hours straight).

So I apologize if the proof reading's not perfect. I may re-post a revised

version later on. As for who came up with the idea of a genetic mutant

that can regrow parts of its body, tell ya what , Chris, we'll let the

lawyers fight that one out, okay? (kidding! I was first!)

Uh... what else? Oh yeah! Special thanks to my

proofreaders/people who commented/people who promised to comment/people

who laughed at the scenes I was typing on IRC: Chantal (proofreader and

character extraordinaire), Rhoni (get back on-line!), Gil, and the IRC

gang (Kelly, Teresa, Sarah, Marnee, and anyone else I've forgotten - Oh,

and cheesedip? Here's the smut you were waiting for )

Any and all comments on my story are appreciated. I *love* seeing 30

email messages waiting for me when I log on. :) Flames will be used to

warm my apartment - I *do* live in Canada you know. :)

Summary: When the fingerprints of a man whose fingers were severed appear

at a recent crime scene, agents Mulder and Scully are called in to team up

with detective Vecchio and constable Fraser in order to investigate. This

is a crossover, but you don't need to have watched Due South to follow

this story. It just adds nuances.

Classification: C (XF/Due South) MSR

This is a *sequel* to another fanfic I wrote: Wearing. I recommend you

read that one before you read this, so you understand what's going on.

There's also a mention of another story I wrote, The Morning After. (Both

are available on the Gossamer archives)

Chicago Holiday?

by Nancy Lemieux (nlemie@po-box.mcgill.ca)

Chantal was tired. She'd had a long day at the office, and all

she wanted to do right now was to get in her car, drive home, pop a couple

of aspirins and take a long soak in her designer tub to get her mind off

the day's events. First it had been the flat tire, then the misplaced

orders that had cost her company thousands of dollars and forced her to do

some quick apologizing to her customers, and then the headache had come.

Pounding in her ears, putting pressure behind her eyes, making her want to

just crawl under the covers of her bed.

Maybe she'd just skip the bath and go straight to bed, she

thought, reaching her car. As she poised her keys to unlock the door, she

heard a scuffing sound somewhere behind her. Turning quickly, all she

could see was a row of parked cars along the sidewalk and some trees

lining the side of the semi-commercial street. She held her breath -

waiting to see if she would hear anything else, or if she could detect a

movement somewhere in the shadows -- which were growing quickly as the sun

set facing her. Squinting and holding her hand to block the sun, she

craned her neck forward to get a better view of what was around her.

Nothing. Satisfied that there was no one there, she turned around,

mentally chiding herself for getting overly paranoid. Yes, this *was*

Chicago, but it didn't mean that every criminal was out to get her. It

had probably just been one of the last squirrels of the day, climbing up a

branch to find a resting place for the night, or something.

She had just unlocked the door when she heard it again. This time

it was clearer. Steps coming for her, quickly. Instincts kicking in, she

yanked her car door open, hoping for a quick get-away. She was just

reaching out to shut the door when she felt someone grab her arm and pull

her out of the car. Yelling at the top of her voice, she kicked and

punched out furiously, trying to get at her assailant. She heard a groan

as one of her kicks connected, then felt a wrenching in her shoulder as

her arm was twisted backwards. Yelping in pain, she reached back and

elbowed the attacker in the solar plexus. She heard a distinct male groan

as she felt the grip on her arm loosen. She tried pulling it free with no

success. The grip tightened again, and she felt a sharp stabbing pain in

her trapezoid as a needle penetrated the skin, right into the muscle. A

burning sensation instantly started to spread from that area, invading her

shoulder, neck and back. She was being drugged! The realization caused a

powerful adrenaline rush, and she struggled mightily to escape. Her

assailant pushed her against the car, grabbing her hands and turning her

around.

That's when she saw him. He was taller than her, perhaps 6 foot

two, muscular, most probably a weight trainer. She dared herself to look

at his face, and was disappointed to see him wearing a ski mask. All she

could see was his lips, curled into a sneer, and his grey eyes, boring

into her with a stare so full of animosity she flinched.

The heat was spreading. It was now in her arm, in her chest, and

with panic starting to really sink in, she realized that it was spreading

through her head. She didn't have much time left. Looking straight into

his eyes, she suddenly catapulted forward, butting his nose with her

forehead. He reeled back a bit and let her hands go. Reaching into her

pants pocket, she felt her Swiss army knife, pulled it out and snapped the

blade open. Without wasting a second, she slashed out towards his face in

a well-rehearsed Kali move - a fake meant to disconcert him. He pulled up

his hands, trying to protect himself, and that's when she exploded. In

one smooth curving motion she slashed out at his wrists, curved back to

slash at his abdomen, then retreated the blade only for a second before

embedding it right below his rib cage. He let out a garbled scream,

backing away.

Sensing her chance, she picked up her car keys where they had

fallen, dove for the driver's seat, and tried to put her key in the

ignition. It took several attempts, seeing as her head was spinning like

a wild carnival ride. She took a deep breath and started the car.

Turning to shut the car door, she saw him diving towards her. Summoning

the last of her strength she shut the door with all her might, just as he

was about to touch her. Ignoring his screams, she put the car in gear and

gunned the accelerator, concentrating on making it to the corner of the

street, and turning left at the T intersection. Before she had made it a

hundred yards the world went black.

*******

"What I'm saying, Benny, is that you should try getting out of

that uniform more often. I realize that there are some women who like

their men in uniform, but you'd be opening yourself to a bigger market if

you put on a suit, and a silk shirt... like me.."

"Well, that's not true, Ray. In all factuality, I *do*, on

occasion, put on a suit. And while I must concede the comfort and

softness of the fabric, I feel that a silk shirt just doesn't put forth

the proper image, which is why I prefer to wear... RAY LOOK OUT!"

The driver of the 1971 Buick Riviera just had time to look back at

the road and swerve out of the way as a grey BMW ran a stop sign right in

front of him. Hitting the brakes, the Riv screeched to a halt right

before the high-priced car ran straight into the brick wall of the store

in front of the T intersection.

Ray took a second to take in the scene. His passenger, however,

wasted no time in leaping out of the car to run towards the accident,

assessing the situation and yelling back "There's a woman in here, I think

she's hurt."

Taking only half a second to for his mind register this, the

driver reached down towards the dashboard and grabbed the mouthpiece of

his car radio.

"This is detective Vecchio, requesting emergency medical

assistance at the corner of Oak and 4th. There's been an accident, with a

possible injury. Over."

"Roger, detective. An ambulance is being dispatched now."

He didn't wait to hear the rest. He quickly ran out of the Riv

and headed towards his friend, who was trying to pry open the driverside

door. Working together, they quickly managed to do so. Ray reached in to

check the woman's pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt it.

Faint but regular, and she was breathing.

"She's alive Benny, but I think the crash knocked her out. I

don't think we should move her, just in case she's got a spinal injury."

"I think that's wise Ray."

"So, do you have any idea what could have caused this?"

"Well, right now I think there isn't sufficient information to

actually explain what happened here. However, there are several

possibilities. She was draped over her steering wheel when she ran the

stoplight, which would indicate she was already unconscious at that

point. There could be several reasons for this... heart attack, stroke,

seizure, fainting... the possibilities are practically endless. Now, many

road accidents are caused by drivers falling asleep at the wheel, but

given the fact she was driving in the city and that Oak street isn't that

long, I've ruled out that possibility."

"Maybe she was diabetic."

"Yes, Ray. That's another possible theory. She may have become

hyper or hypo-glycemic, which might easily cause her to lose

consciousness. Now, the easiest way to find out if she has a medical

condition -other than special jewelry, which she doesn't have - is to look

at her drivers' license. Therefore, I suggest we search for her purse."

"I'll do that. You try and search for other clues as to why this

might have happened."

"Okay."

As Benny moved around towards the front of the car, Ray bent over

to try and find the purse, finding it at his feet where it had slid to the

ground when the door had opened. Reaching down, he picked it up to search

for her wallet when he noticed something else on the ground.

"Oh my god, Fraser. Come here!"

Hearing the tone in his friend's voice, Benny quickly ran back

from the front of the car and stopped to look where his friend was

pointing.

"Great Scott!!!!!"

*****

"What is it now, Mulder?"

"Good morning to you too, Scully!"

She had wanted to greet him as she entered his office, but had

stopped herself when she'd seen the look on his face. He was onto

something, which meant they were about to embark on a case, and to tell

the truth, she didn't want to have to pack and take off for god knows

where this morning. Sighing, she dropped her briefcase on a table and

headed for the coffee machine.

"I'm sorry. Good morning, Mulder. What is it now?"

He grinned at her, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Well, since you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?"

She gave him one of her looks which meant she was in no mood for

his jokes, and he shrugged. Pulling out a file, he handed it to her.

"Two weeks ago, Chantal Valerie Kuhn, a Chicago resident, was

attacked by someone. He injected her with a sedative, but she managed to

fight him off long enough to get into her car and drive away. Several

moments later she lost consciousness and crashed into a nearby brick

building. The suspect was never apprehended."

"That doesn't sound like our field of investigation."

"You'd think so at first glance, but that's not all. Apparently,

during her struggle, she managed to close the car door on her attacker's

hand and severed three fingers. A thumb, index, and middle finger. Left

hand."

"Good for her. That should make the suspect easy to identify.

Have the local hospitals been notified of the possibility of a man with

severed fingers coming in for treatment?"

"Yes. No one with such a description was treated in any of the

Chicago area hospitals. The fingerprints were taken, and matched those of

an unknown criminal who had previously been wanted for three rapes and

several robberies."

"That still doesn't explain to me why our help is being requested."

Mulder looked at his partner and grinned. She was ever the

pragmatic, analytical scientist...

"Ah, but you see, two days ago someone called the Chicago police

after their house had been broken into. The forensics team lifted some

prints, and it turns out that they were an exact match to the assailant

who attacked miss Kuhn. Thumb and index finger, left hand."

He stopped, gauging his partner's expression. Her eyes widened

and her jaw fell open as the realization hit her.

"But Mulder, that's impossible!"

"You'd think so. Yet they're absolutely positive. It's a 100%

match, and you remember what they taught us at the academy."

"His fingers have been cut off! It's not like you can just

re-grow something like that!"

"That," he replied, taking her coat and briefcase and handing them

to her, "is precisely why we're leaving for Chicago. The plane leaves in

one hour. We just have to go home and pack, which leaves me with one

final question..."

"What?"

"Your place or mine?"

She gave him a look that could melt tempered steel, and he laughed

as he put his hand to the small of her back to escort her out of his

office, noticing the shiver that went through her at the contact.

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

A man in a light grey suit extended his hand as welcome.

"Agent Mulder, nice to see you again."

"Agent Ford." Mulder shook hands with him, and pointed towards

his partner.

"This is agent Scully."

Ford nodded towards her, took her hand in greeting and she smiled.

"Agent Scully, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot

about the two of you."

"Well whatever you heard, none of it's true." Mulder deadpanned.

That caught the Chicago office agent off guard. He'd heard all

the stories, about Spooky Mulder and his skeptical partner, and even met

Mulder at a bar once in D.C. ... on a night where he had been rather drunk

and couldn't remember anything else. Yet these two seemed *normal*.

Surely some of the rumours *had* to have been exaggerated. Recovering as

best he could, he led the two agents out of the airport and towards his

car.

"There's a car waiting for you at our offices. I thought we'd go

there first... that is unless you'd like to get settled in your hotel

rooms first.

"No, that's alright. We might as well get started on the case.

It's still early. We'll drive out to the hotel later, when we get our

car."

Those were the first words Ford had heard from Scully. Not that

she hadn't said anything, but it had all been directed towards her

partner, and had come across in silent communication.

"How much do you know about this case?" Ford asked.

"Well, only what was in the report your office sent us. A woman

was accosted, almost kidnapped, but she managed to get away, taking three

of the assailant's fingers with her. Then, less than two weeks later, the

same prints show up elsewhere, in a B&E case."

"That's right, agent Mulder, and this case has us completely

stumped. It's *impossible* that the same prints could have shown up at

that second crime. There's something strange going on, and when we

couldn't get any sort of explanation, we called you in."

"Did you hear that, Scully? Our reputation precedes us."

Mulder glanced at Scully, who was looking back at him and barely

suppressing a grin from his joke. Ford, on the other hand, didn't look

particularly happy about his last crack. *So he knows about 'Spooky',*

thought Mulder. He was about to make a crack about apparitions when he

felt a punch in his side. He looked up to see Scully give him a warning

look. Oh, she was good. Now she could even figure out when he was going

to throw a wisecrack before he did so. He gave her his best contrite

look, and patted her thigh, in what was meant to be a reassuring way.

What he wasn't expecting was the colour that suddenly rose to her cheeks.

She was getting flustered by just that touch? Come to think of it, he was

feeling something stirring in his stomach... butterflies? As quickly, yet

subtly, as possible he removed his hand from her thigh and returned it to

his own lap. Imprisoning it with his other hand before it felt the urge

to wander again.

Luckily, during this whole exchange, Ford had been busy trying to

get past a small traffic jam created by a truck trying to back out of a

driveway, and a car that was double parked. By the time he glanced at his

rear view mirror, both agents were absorbed by the view of the Chicago

suburbs.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the Chicago FBI offices.

Ford escorted them to his office. He told his assistant to have the car

ready and waiting for them, then showed them inside and handed them all

the notes relative to the case, including the tape of the victim's

interview and the official police report.

Without a word, the team sat down at a desk and pored over the new

material, pausing only to exchange comments on this or that aspect of what

they were reading. Ford surveyed them with a wary eye, not sure what to

expect from the two most talked-about pair of agents in the Bureau, before

turning back to some pressing business on his desk.

When Mulder had finished going over the police report with a

fine-toothed comb, he stirred, catching Ford's attention.

"Agent Ford, there's a detail here that doesn't compute."

"And what might that be?"

"Is the victim a Canadian citizen?"

Ford was taken aback by this. Where had this question come from?

"No. She's an American citizen, despite her name, although her

mother is French. Why on earth would you ask me that?"

"Well, it's simple," Mulder began, trying hard to not use the

condescending tone he often used when agents didn't catch on to his line

of questioning right away, "the report states that two men were assigned

to the investigation, right?"

"Yes..." Ford was still not following.

"And it states quite clearly that these men were a certain

detective Raymond Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department, and a

constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, right?"

"That's quite right." Ford grinned, realizing that this agent had

no way of knowing of the friendship between Vecchio and Fraser.

"So then why, if the victim isn't a Canadian citizen, was a member

of the Canadian diplomatic contingency brought into this investigation?"

"Oh, he wasn't 'brought into' the investigation... he was there

from the start."

That response phased Mulder, who took on an interested look as he

waited for the agent to finish his story. This couldn't be the Mountie

Ford had talked about that night in D.C., in the bar, could it? His mind

was fuzzy about that night, and he'd since forgotten the story, but he

still remembered the impression of a greater-than-life constable.

"Truth of the matter is, we couldn't get rid of him if we tried.

He's best friends with the detective in question, and has been meddling in

police affairs around here for two years now."

***********

Ford looked at Mulder, to see an amused grin spread across his

face. Obviously the special agent was enjoying his discomfort. He

continued his description.

"Now, before you decide to take a sudden liking to this pair, I

suggest you hear me out. I've had dealings with these two men before. A

story about terrorists, a train, and a subsequent hostage taking whose

details I won't go into, but suffice it to say that these officers don't

have much respect for the Bureau."

"Is there a particular reason for this? Something we should be

aware of before we meet them?"

"Nothing in particular... let's just say that they're not exactly

fond of our procedures."

Mulder grinned to himself... these two sounded better and better

with every sentence that came out of Ford's mouth. Scully, on the other

hand, was not so happy. Dealing with Mulder on a daily basis was already

taxing enough when he was hot on the trail of a new suspect, without

having to deal with a couple of maverick police officers. Especially when

one of them wasn't even a citizen of this country. She glanced over at

her partner, and was dismayed to see the excitement building in him. It

wasn't really apparent to the untrained individual, but having spent so

much time with him she could recognize the signs. Subtle changes in

posture, a faint flush, some sort of energy that emanated from him. The

signs were there, and she wasn't too happy to see them. She had hoped to

start off this investigation slowly, spend some time getting accustomed to

the surroundings... perhaps a few strategy session alone with Mulder.

She stopped herself at the last remark, feeling the tingling

sensation coursing through her at the thought of spending time alone with

Mulder. This was not good. Not good at all. Ever since they'd had that

conversation at her apartment - when he thought she was an impostor and

they'd practically gone over the edge, only to finally admit their true

feelings for one another - they'd avoided any time alone outside of work

hours. Despite their earlier resolutions to have some more social time

together, it seemed the safest thing to do for the moment, considering the

level of arousal he could create in her just from the thought of the two

of them alone. She knew how she felt, and she knew how he felt, but she

didn't want the rest of the world to know... not yet, anyway.

She was shaken out of her reverie by the sound of Mulder, saying

her name.

"Scully, did you hear what I just said?"

She blinked a few times, waiting for her surroundings to come back

into focus before answering.

"I'm sorry, Mulder, I was just trying to sort out a few facts. I

wasn't paying attention. What did you say?"

"I said that now that we've finished all the available details of

the case, we should head over to the police station to see the two

investigators before we go over and interview Miss Kuhn ourselves."

"That sounds fine, Mulder."

She reached down to pick up the few remaining papers, putting them

in her briefcase and then grasping her coat. She stilled as Ford broke

in, his tone suddenly hesitant.

"I've told you that these two aren't exactly conventional, but I

feel that I must warn you. They *really* don't take kindly to FBI agents,

and they most probably treat you with disdain, if not outright

aggressiveness. Well, Vecchio at least. That Mountie isn't the type to

yell and insult. You know.... typical Canadian temperament. And whatever

happens, I hope you don't run into his immediate superior..."

He stopped there, although it was obvious he was leaving much unsaid.

*****

"Elaine... aren't you done with the license plate check, yet?'

"I'm not your personal slave, Vecchio. I *do* have other things

to attend to, you know."

Ray's tone took on a honeyed quality as he spoke to his colleague,

trying his best to turn on the charm in order to get his request as top

priority.

"Aw.... Elaine... you know you mean the world to me."

"Yeah, that's why you boss me around, never talk to me except when

you need favours, and even pull me away from a comfortable day off to help

you find some file in the archives when your butt's in the sling.... I

don't think so!"

She was smiling. The banter was always the same... everybody

assumed that it was their god-given right to ask her for favours.

"I'll tell you what. You spare Fraser for a few minutes to help

me, and I'll make sure your request gets top priority."

She batted her eyelashes suggestively at the officer who was

sitting on the chair next to Ray's desk, and barely suppressed a giggle as

he quickly shifted his glance away from her and tried to make himself as

small as possible while turning a shade of red only slightly paler than

the colour of the serge uniform he was wearing. Elaine giggled silently

this time. A man his age, as attractive as he was, and he still wasn't

quite comfortable with women's constant advances... would wonders never

cease?

Ray groaned. What was it about his best friend that turned most

women into silly putty? Okay, he was tall, in excellent shape, and

wearing a uniform, but so what?

"Benny, do you have to keep doing that?"

"Do what, Ray?"

"Wear that uniform... I'm tired of seeing all the female coworkers

throw themselves at your feet."

Fraser stopped for a second... apparently pondering the remark.

"I'm confused, Ray... weren't you telling me just a couple of

weeks ago that I should wear something *other* than my uniform to attract

women?"

"No I wasn't."

"I beg to differ, but I quite distinctly remember that was what we

were discussing before you swerved to miss that woman whose case we're

investigating."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're actively discussing the case."

***********

Both men turned around to see where that voice was coming from,

and stopped as they took in the sight of the tall man and the redhead

woman standing next to him. Both wore serious expressions and

trenchcoats, which could only mean one thing. Ray rolled his eyes

heavenward as he cursed silently. Fibbies... just what he needed.

Mulder stepped forward, extending his hand towards the Italian

detective.

"Well, before we get down to business, I guess we should get the

introductions out of the way. I'm special agent Fox Mulder, and this is

my partner, special agent Dana Scully."

Both agents flipped out their badges, and waited while the other

two examined them. Vecchio didn't let his eyes rest too long on the ID's,

preferring to concentrate on the petite agent.

Scully rolled her eyes as she saw Vecchio giving her a lascivious

once-over. **Men!** She mentally groaned, but quickly corrected, as she

realized that the Canadian officer, while also obviously affected by her

looks, was keeping a much calmer facade and not exhibiting similar lewd

behaviour.

"Well, well, Fraser... if it isn't the FBI. What could we have

possibly done to deserve the honour of their visit?"

Mulder put on a sardonic smile, the one he reserved for those who

couldn't resist calling him 'Spooky'.

"Likewise, detective. But while I'd love to stand here and

exchange more niceties with you, I'm afraid we've got an investigation to

take care of, and we need your help to do so."

Fraser, keenly observing the reactions of both men, chose this

time to jump in.

"We'd be more than happy to assist you in any way we can, agent Mulder."

Vecchio shot his friend a nasty look. Why did he always have to

be so *nice* to everyone? Hadn't he learned that FBI agents were up to no

good? Those classes at Quantico were all the same, and most certainly

included 'How to be a pain in the neck 101'.

"Well, for starters, we'd like to examine the evidence that was

gathered in this case, including the severed fingers." Scully broke in,

having seen the detective's reaction and deciding that a courteous,

professional approach might just put his mind at rest regarding herself

and Mulder. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder relax.

"We'd be more than happy to help you, Mrs. Scully, or is that Miss

Scully?"

"Agent Scully."

She wasn't about to let that Italian detective try and close in on

her. It was hard enough keeping the professional respect of many men in

law enforcement without having one try and get too familiar with her.

"Alright, *agent* Scully. The evidence is in our storage room

downstairs, except for the fingers, which have been kept in cold storage

at the county morgue."

Scully nodded, already going through a mental checklist of tests

which should be performed on the severed fingers... DNA analysis, search

for material under the fingernails, another set of fingerprints to be

made, blood typing...

"We would like to examine the evidence, if you don't mind, but

first I'd like to hear your account of what happened when you first

arrived on the scene."

Ray glared at Mulder. "Our account is already filed away in the

report."

Mulder gave him a slow smile, trying to look condescending.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, detective Vecchio, but I think that we

might profit from hearing the account directly from you. There might be a

detail you've forgotten to include, or an account which somehow got

transcribed improperly, which could affect the outcome of the case. I'm

also curious as to what your theory is on how a man whose fingers have

been severed could later commit a robbery and leave fingerprints. What

about the description of the culprit? Did the victim say anything unusual

about him? Appearance? A particular smell? Flashing lights, or loss of

time?"

Scully shot Mulder a warning glance. He was digging himself

deeper, and taking off on a tangent which she didn't appreciate.

Both policemen simply shrugged, beginning their account of the

accident and the investigation they'd performed afterwards.

Mulder and Scully paid careful attention to the details of the

account unfolding before them, and asked some questions, but overall

didn't glean any new information. Half an hour later, with the story

complete, they thanked the two men for their time, and headed out to the

suburbs to interview the victim.

********

The rental car slid to a halt in front of 206 West 38th street.

Despite being a standard nondescript blue sedan, it actually stood out in

this high class residential area, where the number of luxury cars

displayed in your driveway was but one mark of social standing. Another

was the actual house itself, where each neighbour tried to outdo the other

in the architecture, and the layout of the grounds was a ferocious battle

led by gardeners, who all claimed to be *the* expert in their field.

Chantal Kuhn's house was certainly not the biggest, nor did it

have the most cars lined outside, or the prettiest front lawn, but the

ivy-laden stone house, terrain aesthetics, and obvious cost of her

property hinted to her high-paying job in the business district.

Obviously she knew how to handle the stock exchange.

Scully checked that her notepad and case file were in her

briefcase, and got out of the car, shaking Mulder out of his intense

observation of the property. As she turned to lock the door, he caught

her attention.

"I figure that in about 15 years, the promotions we'll have

garnered from our excellent work at the Bureau should make buying a house

like this a breeze." He smirked and gazed into her eyes to gauge the

effect his joke had on her.

Scully rolled her eyes in theatrical frustration, but blushed

slightly. She couldn't help it. The first thought that had crossed her

mind was that of their buying a house like this *together*. Darting a

look towards Mulder, she saw he had noticed her blushing, but she was

amused to see him having difficulty to swallow -- as if his throat had

just gone dry. She caught his gaze and held it for a second, in awe that

he could have reactions like this because of her. The reality of their

recent mutual confessions of love and their subsequent decision to not act

on it immediately was starting to take its toll.

"Well, shall we?"

His phrase broke her train of thought and she nodded, waiting for

him as he rounded the front of the car. Reaching her, he gently placed

his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the front of the

house. The world stopped for both of them as each felt a burst of heat

pervading them. Scully took a cleansing breath, somehow willing away the

tension that had begun to coil in her lower abdomen, and relaxed as the

heat changed to a sense of peace and security. Mulder, on the other hand,

was not having such an easy time controlling himself, and was busy

thinking cold thoughts to get his body temperature back to normal.

*Think cold... think cold... snow... ice... Arctic -- uh... nope,

not that...* Visions of the Arctic Ice Core Project began flooding his

mind. Fear for his life and Scully's, the strange parasite, the worry

that they might be infected, and the electricity generated as they had

examined each other's necks and backs. He felt tingly as the blood began

leaving his brain for another peripheral location. Heroically, he pushed

the images out of his mind and forced himself to visualize taking an ice

cold bath. As he felt his heart rate returning to normal, he breathed a

silent sigh of relief. It would not have done to have the woman they were

about to interview answer the door and see him in a state of arousal. His

position at the Bureau was already too precarious to add something like

this to his record.

As he suddenly remembered Scully at his side he turned to look at

her, praying to whatever might be out there that she hadn't been aware of

what had just happened to him. Luckily, she seemed to be taken with her

own thoughts, and had not noticed his reactions. He breathed another sigh

of relief.

By the time they reached the door, both had their professional

demeanour back.

***********

The door was answered almost immediately. They were greeted by a

woman who looked at them questioningly.

"Good afternoon, I'm special agent Mulder from the FBI, and this

is my partner agent Scully. We're looking for Chantal Valerie Kuhn."

She smiled, hearing her name pronounced incorrectly. It came as

no surprise. Most Americans (and then again most everyone on this planet)

weren't aware of the special accents her French names required.

"That would be me. I was told to expect you today. Why don't you

come in, make yourselves comfortable. Would you like some tea or coffee?"

She led them into her spacious living room, leaving momentarily to

prepare the requested coffee as the two agents settled into some very

comfortable seats. Minutes later she returned with the brew, complete

with some hors-d'oeuvres. Both accepted their cups with a word of thanks,

but did not touch the food. Obviously, they were here for business, and

would not waste any more time than necessary getting down to it.

After the two agents had exchanged glances, Mulder spoke up.

"Miss Kuhn, I imagine it's no secret as to why we're here. We're

investigating the assault you reported a few weeks ago and would like to

hear your version of the facts, if possible."

Chantal paused for a second to sort out her reply. After a moment

she opened her mouth to begin, then hesitated as a thought crossed her

mind.

"I'm sure you're aware that I already made a statement, and have

had to repeat my story countless times to a series of policemen, and even

another agent from the FBI. I'm curious as to why you don't just use the

reports which must have been generated from that."

Scully smiled a reassuring smile. Obviously this woman was highly

intelligent. It was understandable that she might tire of telling her

story, but her statement had held more. It was as if she knew that Mulder

and herself wanted more. Leaning forward slightly, she answered.

"We understand your point of view, Miss Kuhn, but the fact of the

matter is we would rather hear the account directly from you. Perhaps

retelling it will jog some memory that may shed some light on the case.

We also have a somewhat different approach from that of the police force,

so we may come to a different conclusion than what was in the police

report. I'm sorry if this brings back painful memories. Please take your

time, but we would greatly appreciate your cooperation if you want the

suspect apprehended quickly."

Chantal nodded, and mentally braced herself to relive the attack

in her mind. Taking a breath, she began her story. She told them about

the apprehension as she neared her car, about the sudden attack from

behind, the struggle, her retaliation, the drug, and the escape from the

car, up to the point where she crashed the car.

Mulder nodded, listening attentively while Scully wrote some notes

on her pad. He waited patiently until she had gotten to the point where

the two officers had gotten involved, and then interrupted her.

"I want to hear the account of what you may remember once

Detective Vecchio and Constable Fraser entered the scene, but first I'd

like to focus on your assailant for a second. You've already mentioned

what he was wearing, his height, his build, his eye colour, and his

Caucasian origin. What I want you to focus on now is your impression of

him. Was there anything which you might classify as out of the ordinary?"

Chantal wasn't following. "Out of the ordinary?"

"Anything that you might have noticed... something that caught

your attention... it could be anything like a background noise, a

particular smell, thoughts that crossed your mind, something in your

periphery that made you look somewhere else, or any special reaction that

you may have had that didn't seem 'normal' under those circumstances."

She stared blankly at him. This was just not computing. What on

earth could he mean?

"I'm sorry, I'm just not following."

He gave her one of his 'make any woman within 100 yards melt'

smiles and tried to explain his line of questioning.

"I'm simply asking you this to see if you might remember anything

else about your assailant. Something that doesn't immediately come to

mind when you are asked to describe someone. Something other than

physical appearance which might still provide an important clue as to who

a person is, or what they do. Even perhaps what motivates them to make

such an attack, or why they chose you."

Chantal nodded. Yes, this made sense, but she still couldn't

think of anything out of the ordinary to say... except.. perhaps...

"Well, I'm not sure what to say. All I think of is that he seemed

to exude a form of wildness. Like he wasn't quite civilized. He also

didn't say a single word. Only grunted, and he let out a cry of pain when

I knifed him. I can't say I recall anything else. It's quite a blur,

what with the drug that was in me and the fear I was feeling. I'm amazed

I've even been able to recall this much."

"Alright then. That's fine. Now, let's go onto the subsequent

accident. You said you were unconscious."

"Yes. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open, and this

heaviness was pressing down on me. It got dark, and my limbs were heavy,

and I just sort of collapsed against the wheel. I faintly remember the

crunching sound as my car hit the wall. Then, I moved in and out of

consciousness, catching bits of what was happening around me."

"What do you remember from those bits?"

"I remember feeling fingers taking my pulse. There were also two

men's voices, talking to each other. Something about me being a diabetic,

and then checking my purse. I blacked out for a bit, but was awakened by

one of the men... the one in red - whom I later found out was Constable

Fraser - was sniffing me."

The two agents didn't react. They had heard this from the two men

earlier. Constable Fraser had mentioned how he had smelled her breath, to

detect if there was alcohol, or the sweet breath of a hyperglycemic

diabetic. Scully had been impressed by this, but hadn't had time to

congratulate the constable on his good thinking before detective Vecchio

had chimed in, saying she was lucky he hadn't licked her. The two agents

had stared at him dumbfounded as he'd gone on to explain. "He has a

tendency to do that a lot." Fraser had stayed silent during that last

exchange.

"Yes, we've heard about that, Miss Kuhn. Is there anything else

you remember after that?"

"Not really. I blacked out, and the next thing I remember is

waking up in a hospital room. I had a mother of a headache and felt

dizzy. The doctor told me it was due to the drug I'd been injected with

and the concussion I'd suffered during the accident. I was released the

next day and that's all there is to say. I've told my story dozens of

times now. There's nothing else to add.

Mulder looked at Scully, who silently assured him she'd written

everything down, and with a small nod he turned his attention back to

Chantal.

"Thank you very much for your patience, Miss Kuhn. We'll let you

know if anything develops. In the meantime, you must remember that the

suspect is still on the loose, and may try and attack you again. If you

feel like you're being followed, or if anything happens, don't hesitate to

contact the local police department. If there's anything else you

remember, or if you want to reach us, you can call these numbers.

He handed her a business card with his cell phone number on it and

Scully did the same.

"Thank you." Chantal replied, feeling somewhat reassured that

these two agents were on the case. "If there's anything else, I'll let

you know."

She walked them to the front door and bade them good-bye, watching

as they got into their car and drove away.

***********

"Well, what do you think?"

"About her testimony?" Scully inquired.

"Yes."

"Well, Mulder, it sounds like any of dozen cases of assault with

intent to rape. The suspect already has a record of such assaults -"

"I know that, I mean do you think she's hiding something from us?

Does she know more than she's telling us?"

"Mulder! Why do you always assume there's more going on than

there is? She's a victim. She didn't ask to be attacked, it just

happened!"

He paused for a second, pondering her response.

"You're right."

He paused to think some more, then added.

"How about her description of the suspect? What did you think of that?"

"In what sense?"

"The wildness, the grunting... as if he were some primitive

animal. What could that mean?"

"I don't find anything too extraordinary about that. Most repeat

offenders in cases of assault show tendencies towards aggressiveness. He

may have grunted just so that his voice wouldn't be picked up... maybe he

has an accent, something that would make him easy to pick out... there

could be a dozen reasons."

"I supposed that makes sense. But why did she feel the need to

describe him as a wild animal? Why insist on there having some

'primitive' feel to him?"

Scully's eyes widened as it dawned on her which direction her

partner's thoughts were headed.

"Mulder! Are you suggesting that the suspect is something other

than a man? That this is some form of wild animal? A missing link?"

"I must be rubbing off on you, Scully. I couldn't have said it

better myself."

He chuckled lightly as she stopped, stunned both by his ideas as

well as by the way he'd gotten by her riposte so easily.

"No, you're not, Mulder. That idea is absolutely ludicrous.

First of all, we are dealing with a man. Second of all, when was the last

time you saw a wild animal procure themselves *and* deftly use a syringe

and drugs?"

Mulder's elation was dampened somewhat as his partner's arguments

sank in. She was right. While it was tempting to jump onto the 'missing

link' theory, there was too much preparation and skill involved. However,

unwilling to concede so easily to his partner's arguing (it was just *so*

fun to watch her face liven up when she got flustered), he decided to

compromise.

"You may be right, Scully. However, there's more to this than

meets the eye, and I'm determined to get to the bottom of this."

Scully smiled. She could feel Mulder's excitement, just like she

felt the excitement of the upcoming hunt. It was exhilarating... the

creative juices flowing, the adrenaline pumping, the search... It was one

of the main reasons she wouldn't want to give up the X-Files if they

offered her the post of Director tomorrow morning. Paperwork was dull.

The X-Files were *never* dull. Plus, there was the added bonus of having

a gorgeous, single partner to work with. There were *definite* advantages

there. If only...

Dana sighed softly and settled back in her seat as images of what

shouldn't be began forming in her mind. For once she was glad Mulder was

driving. This way, she had the luxury of thinking up a new fantasy...

Great! Another one to add to the long, unfulfilled list she already

carried around insider her heart.

**********

"Hey, Huey! Can we see your notes on the B&E case from a couple

of weeks ago?"

"Which one, Vecchio? I'm a busy cop, unlike yourself..."

"Ha! Ha! Very funny... Come on... you know the one I'm talking

about. The B&E that had the prints from the robber in our assault cause."

"Why should I give them to you?"

"Because I asked so nicely."

"In your dreams Vecchio... it's *my* case, and I'm not going to

let you and that Mountie anywhere near it."

"Wanna bet?"

"What do you mean?"

"It ain't yours, Huey. Oh, and guess what... it's not mine either."

"Do you care to say that in English, Vecchio? If it's not mine,

and it's not yours, then whose is it?"

"Ours."

Detective Huey looked up from his latest case file to see a man's

face near his. He moved back, uncomfortable from the closeness... this

man had a way of invading personal spaces and making people fidget.

Gathering himself, he bristled back at the man... who was obviously tall,

thin, and had a pair of penetrating hazel eyes.

"And you would be?"

"Agent Mulder."

The man straightened himself, stepped back, and circled his arm

around a petite redhead. A *hot* petite redhead.

"And this is my partner, agent Scully. Oh, and in case you hadn't

guessed, we're from the FBI, and this case is now under our jurisdiction."

Huey gave a crooked smile. Half of it was for the fact that he

resented having cases pulled out from under him. However, the other half

was because he *knew* how much Vecchio hated Fibbies. It was well worth

it to give up the rights to this case, just to see Vecchio squirm. This

way, he wouldn't be involved, but would get all the advantages of the

spectator.

"By all means! Here's the case." He dug into a pile of folders

on his desk and quickly pulled out the appropriate one, handing it to the

lanky agent. Then he sat back, crossed his hands behind his head, and

watched the show unfold.

***********

Mulder and Scully retreated to a corner of the room, hunching over

the folder, glancing over the crime scene photos, and reading the details

of the break-in. There was nothing unusual about it. The family hadn't

been home. Someone had snuck to the door of the house, used a crowbar to

open the door, had gotten about 5 feet into the house when they must have

seen the silent alarm indicator going off. They ran away from the house,

and were nowhere to be found when the police arrived on the scene. A

forensics team had lifted some prints off the dropped crowbar, and on the

door frame. They matched known prints, and a full-scale search of the

neighbourhood had revealed nothing.

Mulder sighed heavily, and looked towards his partner.

"We still don't know anything, Scully. We have no clear

description of our suspect, where he might be hiding, or what his next

move will be. What are we supposed to do now?"

Scully answered his sigh with one of her own.

"I don't know Mulder. All we can do is wait. Our suspect

obviously has a pattern of repeated crimes, and will strike again. In the

meantime, I do *not* want to remain inactive. I say we analyze his points

of attack, to see if there might be a discernible pattern. Something to

help us predict who his next victim will be."

Mulder smiled. His partner's mind was always thinking. Somehow,

when one of the two got discouraged, it was always the other one who'd

bring them back up, thinking, yearning for the truth, for answers. He

wondered how he'd ever worked without her. He didn't want to think of

what would happen if he lost her.

Inevitably, as with every time his mind went down this road, he

remembered when she'd been taken away from him. When he'd found himself

alone to face the world, with only his imagination to guide him as to

where she might be... what might be happening to her... what *they* would

be doing to her... the tests... the pain...

He closed his eyes, unable to bear the thought. Feeling again as

he had during that time. Desperate, wild, uncaring. He hadn't been able

to sleep, and he had lost his appetite. Basic grooming seemed beyond his

capability, and he'd let his beard grow. He wouldn't comb his hair, and

barely remembered to put on clean shirts. There had been no point to

life. In fact, when he thought about it, he'd probably had a death wish

at the time. That would have explained Kristen. She had wanted to die,

and engaged in activities to get her wish. Blood sports, unprotected sex,

meeting strange men in dark, isolated areas. He'd found her carelessness,

her quiet desperation, fascinating. So much mirroring his own. It had

been so easy to lose himself for a few hours... to forget about everything

happening in his life. To blot out the pain of missing Scully. All for a

short moment of carnal pleasure. Meaningless. Dangerous. Deadly.

And then she'd left too. Killing herself. He still wasn't sure

why, and he preferred not to try and figure it out. There were too many

variables.

Had she at least found the solace she so desperately needed?

He'd gone back home. Still desperate. Still missing Scully so

much it hurt to breathe. Torn between the idea of letting her go and

clinging fiercely to the hope that she would return. Once, a long time

ago, he'd worked alone. Used to the solitude. Craved it. Wanting to be

accepted, but understanding that it wouldn't happen. He'd work alone, in

the shadows, seeking out the truth that most people couldn't even begin to

fathom. Those who relished calling him Spooky... they didn't

understand. They probably feared him. He hadn't cared. He could take

them all! And then it had all changed, in a single afternoon, after a

short knock on his door. She'd walked into his life and changed

everything.

So why hadn't he told her how much he loved her when she'd come

back to him? Why had he given her that goofy gift? The one he'd found at

the corner store as he raced over to the hospital. Superstars of the

Super bowl. Yup. Just what every woman needs. "I knew there was a

reason to live." Oh, how that phrase had washed over him. So unexpected,

yet so meaningful. Lifting a weight off his shoulders he hadn't even been

aware he'd been carrying. Telling him, between the lines, how important

he was to her. He'd been sure of it. He was still sure of it now. And

when he'd given her back the cross... it had been magical. The final sign

that all was going to be fine.

Mulder smiled to himself. *Fine*. That's her word. The one she

always uses, even when she isn't fine. The word that says 'If I wanted to

tell you something's wrong, I would. She was so strong. Despite her

hardships. Despite losing her family, having been kidnapped and near

death countless times, she was strong. Stubborn. Oh, *definitely*

stubborn. But kind. She always forgave his mistakes. The countless

times he'd run away, 'ditched' her for something more important. The

Arctic and that pilot, that train with the alien hybrid. Countless

times. He felt ashamed remembering how many times there had been. **It

has to stop,** he told himself. **I won't do that anymore.**

And finally, as always, when the turmoil of emotions gripped him,

he felt the most important thing of all. Love. He wondered when he'd

first fallen in love with her. It was hard to pinpoint a time. Had it

been the first time he'd seen her? The first time she'd risked her life

for him? That conversation in the car? One of the countless times he'd

woken up in the hospital to see her face smiling down at him? It didn't

matter. All that *really* mattered was that he knew how he felt about

her. And one day... when the situation improved... when they brought down

Cancerman... *Then*! Then they'd be able to do more than just say it.

They'd hold each other and never let go. He'd press his lips to hers, and

let himself drown in the tidal wave...

"Are you hearing any of this, Mulder? Mulder? Mulder.... MULDER!"

He jumped. Her voice cut through his musings. Obviously she'd

been talking to him, but he hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Mulder are you alright? You zoned out for a minute. Are you sick?"

Scully reached out to touch his forehead, fearing he might have a

fever. She hadn't seen him act like this very often, and it usually meant

he was sick. He flinched at her touch, but didn't back away. She felt

her own brow furrow from worry as she checked his temperature. He seemed

fine. He didn't have a fever, but his pulse was rather rapid. And why

had he been staring at her so intently while she'd talked to him earlier?

He hadn't heard a word she'd said. Of that she was sure. What was going

on?

Slowly, she withdrew her hand from his forehead.

"No. No fever. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine Scully."

She smiled at that. How often had she used that line on him?

Well, even if he weren't fine, she knew she should respect his decision

and not pry.

"Okay then, Mulder. Now, what do you think about my idea?"

He grinned sheepishly. Obviously he hadn't heard anything she'd

said in the last two minutes. Sighing softly, she repeated what she'd had

to say.

"I think that we should search the databanks for any crimes

committed by our suspect in the last two years. Something that might

indicate his style. Now, I'll take care of mapping the geographical

location of his attacks, and you take care of the chronology of the

attacks. Hopefully, we'll be able to come up with some sort of pattern

that will allow us to narrow down the area of the next attack. If we're

lucky, we might even be able to predict his next victim. What do you

think?"

He gave her his warmest smile.

"I think great minds think alike, Scully. Why don't you look up

those records, and when you find them, I'll come along and help you sort

them out. Okay?"

She grabbed him by the lapels as he tried to turn away.

"Just one second. Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh... well... I was hoping to go take a walk to clear my head."

"And leave me here to do all the archive work? I don't think so.

Come on, Mulder. You take 1994-1995, and I'll take 1995-1996."

He groaned, but followed her to the records room.

"Scully, I'll hold you personally responsible if I make a mess on

the floor. You *know* these things make me seasick. And me without my

Dramamine."

He gave her his best pout and she barely suppressed a smile. Yes,

he was feeling better. Whatever had crossed his mind earlier was now

buried somewhere deep in his psyche, and he was back on track. Now, if

only she could figure out what was bothering him...

Well, she might be able to. Once they'd solved the case, and

shoveled away the tons of paperwork afterwards. What was it she'd said

about the X-Files being fun and less paperwork?

***********

"Okay, this is what I've got... All the attacks have taken place

on the south side. They're clustered in this region, and only

occasionally has he moved outside this territory. I think our best bet is

to increase the patrols in this region."

"I agree, Scully. I've also found out that the crimes are

clustered in groups of four. We've seen two so far... Miss Kuhn's attack

and the breaking and entering. We have two to go for now. Otherwise, we

may have to wait six months before he strikes again."

"Well, that should leave us with some leverage, Mulder. Have you

observed anything about the order of the crimes?"

"No. Unfortunately, Scully, while the criminal is quite regular

about his timing, his types of crimes are random. I sifted through them

for an hour, and couldn't find any pattern. No order I could detect."

"Well, Mulder, maybe you didn't look hard enough."

He stopped and stared at her, startled by her last statement.

"Really?"

"Yes."

She tried not to look smug. She *really* tried, but in the end a

smile began to edge its way onto her face. He was looking at her with a

different look. Definitely respect. He was the profiler, the one who got

into criminal's minds. She was the pathologist. It wasn't that she

wasn't intelligent, but it wasn't her habit to do this. His esteem for

her had just increased yet again.

"Well, don't just leave me in suspense, Scully. Do tell!"

She smiled warmly. She'd been afraid he'd have felt jealousy.

After all, *he* was the one who almost always intuited what the criminal

would do next. He was the one with the nickname.

"I did find a pattern. The difference is that it's not one of

repetition, but rather lack thereof..."

"I'm listening."

"I've noted that for each crime spree, of the four crimes, none

was ever repeated. Only one assault, one breaking and entering, one

robbery, one store theft, or one of whatever other crime he's committed.

In this spree, we've had one assault and one breaking and entering, so I

hypothesize that we don't have to worry about these types of crimes in the

near future."

Mulder nodded slowly.

"I agree. So, any suggestions on what the next crime might be?"

"Well, no, but I do have a feeling it might be a crime in a

business, so we should keep more patrols on the two or three streets which

have a high business ratio."

"A *feeling*, Scully?"

"An educated guess, Mulder."

He leaned in towards her ear, lowered his tone, and smiled as he spoke.

"Sure, Scully."

He left her there, still shivering from the effects of his low,

sultry tone as he walked out of the archives and back to the bullpen.

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

"You expect me to suddenly dispatch half the force to patrol less

than a dozen streets?"

"That would be right, sir."

"Did the Mountie put you up to this, Vecchio?"

"Uh, no sir."

"Then who?"

Ray tried not to fidget in front of his superior, Lieutenant

Welsh. This man had a way of speaking to his detectives as if they were

only two inches tall, and Vecchio was not immune to it.

"It's the FBI agents sir. They have a suspicion that the next

attempt will be on one of the commercial streets on the south side, and

they requested our help by increasing patrols."

"Oh. Well, that puts a whole different spin on things.

Alright... I'll allow four extra cars to patrol the area, but no more."

"But sir, they asked for at least a dozen..."

"I said *four* cars, Vecchio. And if you're still in my office in

five seconds, it's going down to three."

"I'm a breeze, sir..."

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

Three pairs of eyes looked up to see Vecchio rush out of his

supervisor's office. He walked towards his desk, where his Canadian

friend and the two FBI agents were waiting for him.

Mulder was the first to speak.

"Well?"

"Lieutenant Welsh was unable to secure as many cars as you asked,

but he was able to promise four extra cars to patrol the area."

Mulder's anger flared. There was a dangerous criminal on the

loose, and he had expected full cooperation. He started to take a step

towards the Lieutenant's office, intent on letting him know just what he

thought of the decision when he was stopped by a hand reaching for his

arm. He turned back to see Scully restraining him. He was about to

comment when he was interrupted by another voice.

"I'm sure that we can find a respectable addendum to the local

police force's help. I'm willing to help in any way I can, and I could

speak to my superior. As a sign of goodwill, I'm certain she could spare

a few of our men to help in the stakeout."

"That's very generous of you, Constable Fraser," Scully said,

giving him a grateful smile. She looked at Mulder and gave him a stern

look, making sure he reacted in a similar manner.

"Yes, I must agree with my partner. Any help we can get in

stalking and arresting this criminal will be greatly appreciated," Mulder

added, doing his best to get his mind back on the case.

"You don't have to thank me. It's only natural. After all, we're

all sworn to defend citizens."

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

Scully got off the phone, after having ascertained that the local

Bureau office would supply six sets of partners to help the stakeout.

She got back to Vecchio's desk, where the three men were finishing

up working on a patrol route.

"Now that we've agreed on the route to take, I suggest we retreat

for the evening, to prepare for tomorrow," Mulder instructed, eyeing the

two men next to him and his approaching partner, "and meet here tomorrow

at 8 am. This will give us a chance to rest, and prepare. Tomorrow

morning, we'll brief the patrolmen and every agent and detective who will

be assisting with the patrol."

He hesitated for a second before continuing.

"I assume that you understand that we are not to wear our regular

uniforms. We will be undercover, so we need to look as inconspicuous as

possible. So wear regular clothes."

Mulder looked at Fraser, inspecting his red serge uniform. In the

two days he'd been here, the man had never once worn anything else, and he

wondered if he *owned* anything else.

Fraser noticed the inspection, and cleared his throat.

"That will be no problem, agent Mulder. I assume jeans and a

shirt are sufficiently common clothes?"

Fraser noted Mulder's acquiescing nod and extended to shake his

hand, gave Scully a quick nod, adding a low "Ma'am", and then patted Ray

on the shoulder as a good-bye before turning away and walking off.

Ray settled into his chair and looked up at the agents, who

gathered their things and left after a few minutes, giving a quick

good-bye.

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

The knock on the door startled Scully. She'd just settled into

her room for the evening, switching her laptop on to write up her evening

addendum to her field journal, and had been contemplating going to the

hotel bar and ordering a nice soothing cup of herbal tea when the knock

had come.

"Who is it?"

"Michael Crichton."

She smiled as she moved to open the door.

"You know, Mulder, you're going to have to come up with something

a little more original... First Steven Speilberg, now this? If you'd at

least said you were some sexy Hollywood star, I *might* have opened the

door more enthusiastically."

He gave her a silly grin.

"You mean you *didn't* think I was the world-famous author?"

"No, I thought you were the world famous pain in the

'you-know-what' partner of mine coming to disturb me. Guess I wasn't

wrong."

"Awwww Scully. That hurts. And to think I was going to invite

you to go out and run with me."

"So now you're not?"

"Depends. Would you say yes?"

"You won't know until you ask me."

"Okay. I'm asking. Do you want to go for a run? I thought it

might be a good thing to go by the commercial district one more time

before we make the final revisions on our surveillance plan later

tonight."

She surprised them both by saying yes. She left him to turn off

her computer and find himself somewhere to sit while she grabbed a pair of

jogging pants and shoes, and a sweatshirt, and headed off to the bathroom

to change. He was sitting in a big stuffed chair when she came back into

the main room.

"Ready?" He asked, and he got up out of the chair when she

nodded. They headed out the door and walked down to the sidewalk near the

motel, where they stopped and did a few basic stretches before heading off

towards the direction of the commercial district. He let her set the

pace, unsure of just how fast she could run. She picked a good pace, easy

for him to follow, and not to fast so that she'd run out of steam early.

It felt good to be running next to him. Their feet pounding the pavement

in a complementary pattern, just like the way they complemented each other

so well at work. Their breathing coming just fast enough to prevent easy

conversation, allowing them to enjoy each other's company without the need

for words. They ran this way for seven blocks until they reached the

commercial district, where Mulder slowed down and signaled for her to

follow suit.

They came to a stop at the corner of the street, and she looked up

to his face, curious to know why he'd made them stop. He pointed down a

street, and between rapid breaths, indicated he thought they should start

in that direction, and then weave their way back through the parallel

streets, in order to cover all the territory and get a final 'feel' for

the area. She nodded her agreement and followed him as he started up

again, choosing a slower pace to enable them ample time to observe the

neighbourhood, notice alleys, hiding spaces, areas where attacks could

easily take place, businesses that were more at risk, and so on. Twenty

minutes later, they had covered the area and were ready to go back to the

motel. Scully turned to move towards the home stretch when she suddenly

felt Mulder's hand on her arm, pulling her in another direction. She

looked at him quizzically, but when his face remained impassive she simply

shrugged and went along. They jogged a few blocks when they came across a

nice, fairly well-lit park where a few of the city dwellers were enjoying

a leisurely autumn stroll. He chose a path and they followed it. A few

hundred yards later, the path turned into a wooded area, which was lit

here and there with park lamps.

They jogged in silence through the trees, and Scully decided to

take a second to try and read Mulder's expression, to see what he was

thinking. She turned to glance up at his face, which was relaxed but not

really registering any easily readable emotion, and at that precise moment

she stepped on a root which made her lose her balance and fall forward.

Mulder, who heard her gasp as she tripped, moved on instinct and tried to

catch her. However, as he leaned his arms out to catch her, he caught his

foot in the same root that she had tripped on, and only managed to wrap

his arms around her before they both tumbled to the ground, himself on the

bottom. She fell heavily on him, and he felt the air rush out of his

lungs as her elbow accidentally struck his diaphragm. He took a few

seconds to fight for a breath before he looked up to her.

***********

"Are you okay?" They simultaneously asked, then answered, "Yes"

in the same manner. They both looked at each other and started laughing

at the perfect synchronicity of their questions and answers. This

situation was just ludicrous. Scully tried to move off Mulder, but his

arms were still wrapped around her, so she only managed to press her elbow

into his diaphragm again, letting herself drop back down and giving him a

contrite look after hearing his sudden release of air.

"Mulder, let go of me so I can get up."

He didn't respond right away, so she asked again. When he again

did not move, she turned her head more fully towards him, about to ask him

why he wasn't moving when she suddenly got a good look at his expression.

His gaze was intently set on her face, and his eyes were smouldering. She

stared back, mesmerized. For endless seconds they simply looked at each

other, suddenly aware of how much of each one was touching the other.

Unsure what to do, or how to react. Fascinated by the way the other was

staring, softly moving against the other with each breath. It was Mulder

who moved first, slowly bringing his arm up her back until he'd reached

her head, and brushed the hair out of her face to get a clearer view of

Scully. He caressed her cheek, and moved his hand back to lace his

fingers through her hair. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought her lips to

his and placed a chaste kiss. Unable to lose contact with her, he held

her head so that their lips never lost touch. He was still breathing hard

and so was she. The breaths coming out of their slightly open mouths

mingled, allowing them a slight taste of each other without the need for

further contact.

It felt so good. It was the first time they'd touched this way

since the night he'd come to her apartment in a panic and pressed her up

against the wall, unsure of her real identity. It was only the second

situation where they'd ever kissed. It wasn't supposed to happen. It

wasn't a good idea. But at this specific instant, the world could have

self-destructed around them and they wouldn't have been aware, as

engrossed in each other as they were.

It was he who broke the silence.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"Oh, I have a good idea."

She started leaning in towards him when the sound of a wayward owl

startled both of them. Suddenly aware that, despite being in the woods,

they were still in a public park, they gave each other a quick look,

cleared their throats and managed to untangle their limbs. As quietly as

possible, they stood up and faced each other, wearing contrite looks on

their faces. They both knew that they had decided not to pursue a

relationship, despite their feelings for each other, but in times like

this it was especially painful to keep their distance.

"Uhm..... I guess we'd better get back to the hotel. We've got

some last-minute re-checking to make sure our stakeout stays a well-oiled

machine."

"It's nice to see you so optimistic, Mulder."

He just gave her an enigmatic smile and turned towards the way

they had just come.

"I'll race you back, Scully."

"You're on, Mulder, but... hold on a second!"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Wait! What's that?"

"What?"

As he turned his head, she pushed him down and took off towards

the direction of the hotel, running with all her might. It took four

blocks before he caught up with her, but when he did, he simply glared at

her and moved on.

**********

It felt weird, to be walking hand in hand along the sidewalk.

Scully's mind couldn't quite compute the implications. Here they were,

walking together, holding hands like any normal couple, under the watchful

eye of their coworkers, and it was allowed! Why hadn't she thought of

doing undercover work before?

Mulder, for his part, had a silly grin plastered across his face,

as he sneaked looks her way, winking from time to time. Nope. This was

too good to be true. He could almost read her mind. Not that it was

hard, that contented look on her face was hard to miss. Well, it wasn't

that easy to see, but with years of practice at trying to decipher her

expressions, it was right there, painted in neon letters across her

forehead. She was enjoying this. Maybe even a little too much. For the

millionth time that morning he gave her hand a squeeze and winked in her

direction before sweeping the area with another glance.

They stopped at a storefront, using the reflection on the window

to try and see if anything was happening behind them. Within his ear, he

heard the FBI agent who was coordinating the operations from the

surveillance van ask to get a vocal report, and he responded, leaning in

towards Scully to pretend like he was whispering something in her ear.

That resulted in a slight involuntary shiver which she did not seem able

to suppress, and he chuckled silently at the effect his voice had on her.

**Gee, I wonder what would happen if I whispered something good in her

ear...**

Mulder almost leaned over to do so when he remembered the wire he

was wearing. Nope, not a good idea. The last thing they needed was to

tell the whole Bureau *and* the Chicago PD what was happening between

then. Darn wires. He pouted, but thanked his lucky stars for equipment

so small it could be hidden from view. Unconsciously, his thoughts

drifted to the last time he'd use this type of equipment and stopped

himself... Duane Barry... **Better not go there... at least not right

now.** Okay.... how about another type of surveillance equipment?

Modell. Better not go there either. Sighing softly, he made a mental

effort to keep his mind off of the past and concentrated on the present,

and his surroundings. He could not allow himself to be distracted.

He turned towards his partner as she gave his hand a squeeze.

"Mulder, I think we've got a problem."

"What?"

"See that shopkeeper over there?"

She pointed towards one of the merchants on the opposite side of

the street, who was standing at the door of his business.

"Yes."

"Well, this is the fourth time we pass this street in the last two

hours, and he's been staring at us the last two times. Looks like he's

getting suspicious. Any suggestions?"

"Change of route? For a while?"

A voice broke into both their right ears... "Uh... 'fraid not,

guys. We can't afford to change routes right now. You'll have to think

of something else."

"Gotcha, Fred. We'll think of something else," Mulder replied.

"Any ideas?" Scully asked him, a hopeful look on her face.

"Oh, plenty."

"Such as?"

"Why don't we move along and I'll fill you in on the next round."

"Uh oh, Mulder. Don't look now, but he's trying to cross the

street. I think he wants to talk to us."

"Great!"

***********

Mulder's exasperated tone only lasted a second, and the speed of

his change in attitude left Scully speechless as she felt him forcefully

push her against the wall and saw him lowering his head to hers.

"Mul- Wha-?"

That was all she had the time to say before his lips closed over hers.

The world disappeared. It went somewhere, but Scully just wasn't

mentally apt to guess where at the moment. It was all she could do to

stand upright. Thankfully, the wall and Mulder's hands on her waist

helped her. Well, that and the fact that he was pressed solidly against

her. The passion of his kiss both frightened and excited her. The fear

of being watched still was too great for her to feel comfortable, but she

was definitely beginning to like this. Oh yes. She could get used to

this. It was addictive, that touch of his. A drug she would willingly

take every chance she got. Nothing felt more comfortable than to be in

his arms. Nothing felt more natural. It was like breathing.

**Speaking of which,** her lungs reminded her, **isn't it about

time you take a breath?**

Scully broke away first, breathing heavily and putting her hands

onto Mulder's shoulders. He eased down a bit, wrapping his arms tightly

around her, placing his face against her right ear. It felt and looked

like a comfortable hug, but as she suddenly glimpsed a view of the street

from over his shoulders, she realized he was purposefully giving her a

chance to see what was happening.

"Well?" He whispered to her, as she felt his warm breath against

her ear, ruffling her hair.

"Looks like we scared him off, Mulder. He's no longer on the

street, and probably went back into his store."

"Take a quick look around. Is anything unusual happening?"

She craned her neck and did her best to survey the immediate area.

"Except for us, no."

"Welcome back to planet earth," Fred's voice broke in. "We thought

that both of you would pass out from lack of oxygen for a minute. Should

I congratulate you on your acting?"

"I knew there was a reason why I'd taken all those performing arts

classes in college," Mulder cracked wryly, giving a nice performance for

the surveillance team, while sneaking a secret wink in Scully's direction.

"I must say, you are excellent at taking the lead, Mulder. I

didn't have the time to see that one coming."

"Was it good for you, agent Scully?" Fred teased.

"I don't know, Fred. Tell you what... We'll get Mulder to try his

technique on you, and then we can compare notes, okay?"

That shut him up. Fast. Scully barely suppressed a giggle as she

imagined the shade of red Fred must have turned. Mulder was more

successful at controlling his laughter, but the grin on his face said it

all.

"You know, Scully... I think I'll just take your word for it."

"Your loss, Fred."

Scully looked at Mulder, amazed at his last answer. Oh, she knew

he had a sense of humour, but this was too much. She doubled over in

laughter, unable to stop herself. Mulder pulled her into the nearest

alley, quieting her for a moment, and then they both burst into a fit of

laughter, taking a long moment to get back in control.

"Hey, guys... I don't mean to be a spoilsport... but we *are*

trying to catch a criminal."

That sobered them up fast.

"Sorry, Fred," Scully replied, working hard to get into control

and to stop the blush that was creeping up her face.

"Okay, Scully... ready?"

Mulder reached out with his hand, waiting for her to grasp it, and

then they exited the alley, moving along their planned route. Two blocks

later, they reached the surveillance van and slowed down. Looking all

around, they checked to make sure no one was watching before opening the

side door and stepping in.

"Well, if it isn't the two lovebirds," Fred teased, his smile and

the gleam in his eye an added taunt.

"Come here, sweetheart," Mulder replied, making a move to pull

Fred to him.

"Not on your life!"

Fred looked genuinely scared for a second, before turning a deep

shade of crimson and mumbling something as he moved back to the consoles.

**********

The teams were rotating their lunch breaks, and it was Ray and

Benny's turn. As they drove towards one of their favourite diners, Ray

felt the need to comment on the surveillance.

"We're wasting our time, 'Fra-zier'...

"Why do you say that, Ray?"

"We're sitting ducks... waiting for something to happen. I'm

sorry, but every instinct in me says we should be out there... pounding

the pavement, asking our contacts. We've got a criminal on the loose. We

can't just stand around waiting for something to happen!"

"Well, actually, I've done some checking on their backgrounds and

agents Mulder and Scully are quite capable. They're both intelligent,

dedicated, and their solve rate is one most everyone would like to have.

He used to do criminal profiles, and he was renowned for his accuracy. In

fact it earned him a nickname."

"Oh really? What?"

"Well, I don't think it would be appropriate to repeat it. I

mean, it's not nice to disseminate such information."

"Fraser, if you didn't want me to know you shouldn't have started

talking about it."

"Well, I'm sorry, Ray. It's just that I believe, from what I

learned, that agent Mulder is sensitive about the alias, so I think it's

best if we let this go."

"Let what go? You didn't even *tell* me!"

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry Ray. I'm going to have to take a firm

stand on this."

"Oh yeah, like you ever take a firm stand on anything, Fraser. Do

I have to remind you of the incident about your uniform?"

"That's not true. I did take a firm stand at the end of that

incident, and if I must remind you, I *was* dismissed."

"Oh yeah? Then why are you still working?"

"I don't know, Ray. But I'm still wearing my uniform."

"Good point."

Ray backed off, realizing he wasn't arguing for the right

reasons. It was the frustration of the day, not his friend's actions,

that were the reason for his bad mood. He felt he should apologize, but

he knew that Benton realised what was happening and wasn't taking this

personally.

He stopped for a second, remembering a conversation they'd had

when his Mountie friend had lost his memory on a recent case. When Benny

had asked him why they were friends, he'd been hard-pressed to give an

answer. There was no easy response for that one. It was just that they

seemed to work so well together. They understood each other without

saying anything. As he'd once said...'I mean it's one of those special

cases where alone we're incomplete but together we're better than we are

separately.' It was true. They *did* complement each other. It was a

special bond. Something you don't see often. Something that some

partners just have. **In fact,** he suddenly thought, **those two FBI

partners had the same type of bond.**

**Well, okay, not quite the same bond,** he admitted. **There's

more to it than that in their case. Yes, they complement each other, and

communicate without words just like Benny and me, but there's something

more. Something I can't quite put my finger on.**

Ray continued in silence, contemplating what could be different

about the Fibbies. He had a hard time categorizing it. It wasn't just

because they were a man/woman team. Sure, he'd seen some sparks fly

between such pairs, but there was something else here... It was almost as

if they were... soulmates. *Nah....* He told himself. *That's not it, is

it?* However, the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that

this was it. It was as if some metaphysical bond had been formed between

the two of them, linking them forever. He had a distinct feeling that if

one were to die, the other would not survive. Not for long, anyway.

Which was too bad, because he thought that Dana Scully was *definitely* a

looker.

"Hey, Benny... What do you think about those two agents?"

"Which ones, Ray? Agents Scully and Mulder?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I don't know. They seem very professional, rather

open-minded - especially him - and they work well together."

"Yeah, yeah... but what about *her*? What do you think of her?"

"She's quite intelligent, strong-willed, well-trained ---"

"But what about her looks? Wouldn't you like to have her for yourself?"

The silence in the Riv stretched for a long minute. Ray wasn't

quite sure what Benny was thinking about, so he ventured a look in his

partner's direction. At the sight, he willed himself not to snicker.

Benny was blushing. Oh, only slightly, but enough for him to know that he

was thinking about something to do with women. However, he knew his

friend well enough to wonder if he was thinking about the lovely agent

Scully, or his impetuous supervisor, Meg Thatcher (or as Ray liked to call

her, The Dragon Lady).

"Penny for your thoughts, Benny."

"Huh? Oh, I wasn't thinking of anything important."

"Yeah right. Guess that flush I noticed on your face was due to

this balmy November weather. Come on, spill! You were thinking about

Dana Scully, weren't you?"

"Well, yes, Ray. But not in the way you're implying."

"She's hot isn't she?"

"You could say that, but there would be no point in trying to

pursue it."

"Why not?"

"It would seem to me like she's already spoken for."

Ray smiled. So Ben saw it too? Good. He was glad to know that

he wasn't the only one.

"You mean she's fallen for me, Fraser?"

"At the risk of hurting your ego, no she hasn't, Ray. Haven't you

seen the way she looks at her partner? I think no other man alive stands

the chance of ever winning her heart."

Ray sighed. "It's too bad."

He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he heard Benny sighing

too. But when he turned to look at his friend, the Mountie had regained

his composure and was unreadable.

**********

"You know, Mulder, I think we should have planned our surveillance

better. Don't you think that a nice cushy car for a stakeout would have

been better than this? My feet are starting to hurt."

Mulder winked in her direction.

"Nag, nag, nag."

He cringed slightly, expecting a physical blow, but instead

getting her 'Oh, you're going to regret that' look. Changing tack, he

looked around quickly and formulated a plan.

"Hey, Scully. Tell you what. Why don't we stop at the terrace on

that corner. We're ahead of our schedule as far as walking around is

concerned, and I'll buy you a cappuccino. It'll be just like that

annoying TV show."

She laughed. "Okay, but I insist on paying for the coffees.

After all, you're probably the one who's suffering the most. You must

feel sore after falling while jogging last night."

He gave her a look to show he hadn't forgotten about that, and his

eyes held a hint of a promise. One she wasn't glad to see. She knew

she'd have to pay for pushing him down at one point or another. She just

hoped it would be sooner or later, because the stress of waiting for

something to happen wouldn't be very good for her health.

"Aww... Isn't that sweet," Mulder said in honeyed tones, " I'm

glad you're so worried about my health."

He grasped her arm tighter and practically dragged her forward as

he picked up the pace towards the cafe, knowing she'd have a hard time

following.

A few minutes later they were seated at a table, surveying the

neighbourhood and sipping their hot drinks. Mulder sweeped the immediate

area and, content that no one was paying attention to them, he began to

lightly kick Scully's feet, stopping once in a while to wrap his foot

around her ankle. Looking up to his partner's face, he winked.

Scully stared at him, wide-eyed. To say she was shocked would

have been an understatement. Mulder was playing *footsies*?????? In

public??????? She wasn't sure which of the two behaviours was surprising

her the most, but she was flabbergasted.

"Mulder..." She tried to warn him. He just ignored her, moving

his foot up to her calf muscle, slowly dragging it up and down the back of

her leg, soothing the soreness there. She wanted to stop him, she knew it

was inappropriate behaviour, especially on duty, but she just couldn't get

herself to mouth the words to make him stop.

It turned out that he stopped on his own, and just as Scully was

taking a deep breath, thankful for the interruption of physical contact,

he leaned in and asked her if her feet were still sore.

"Why, Mulder?"

"Well, we wouldn't want you having to walk all this distance with

sore feet. I'll tell you what... take off your shoes, that should help

relieve some of the pain."

She thought that was a good idea, so she unlaced her shoes and

quickly slipped them off. It did help, and she gave a sigh of

contentment, which turned into a yelp of surprise as he reached for her

right foot and brought it up into his lap. He smiled and looked straight

into her eyes as he began to massage her foot.

Magic. There was no other word to describe what she felt as his

strong, agile fingers began to knead and stroke, working out the tension

and the pain of the long walk. He found all the sore areas, soothing and

relaxing them, somehow managing to skim over her ticklish spots so quickly

she didn't have time to react. She felt the tension in her body begin to

dissipate, and a slow buzz began in her head as she leaned back in her

chair and closed her eyes. So far, she had managed to hold back from

moaning her approval at the movements of his hands, but it was getting

harder to do. To try and counter this, she concentrated on her

respiration. After all, people were listening in on them.

In. Out. In. Out. She took long, soothing breaths, counting

slowly as she inhaled and exhaled. *That's it, Dana. Don't think about

those hands... concentrate on your breathing... your foot is not attached

to your body... you're not feeling the sparks of electricity shooting out

from his contact... they're not pooling in your stomach... you're not

feeling the tension in your abdomen... there isn't any heat building...

breathe... breathe...*

She opened her eyes as she realized how her thoughts had gone

dangerously close to somewhere she didn't want to go. Unconsciously she

flicked her eyes up to her partner's. Well, that was a mistake. She

forgot to breathe. His eyes had gone dark. The intensity of his gaze was

hypnotic as it bore into hers, communicating every feeling, every desire.

It was a look that said he'd like to just take her right now, on the

table, with everyone watching. She closed her eyes with an effort,

suddenly aware that she was trembling. Why was he doing this to her? Why

was she doing this to herself? They'd come to a mutual agreement that

despite their love for one another, they wouldn't act on it. Not in the

near future, anyway. Dana knew she had to stop her partner right now,

before things got out of control. Not to mention that they were on duty!

She tried to pull her foot away, but he held onto it. However,

his strokes changed -- got lighter, less intense -- and after a few

moments she decided to hazard a look at her partner. His eyes weren't on

her anymore. He was scanning the area as he gently continued to massage

her foot, spreading out the toes and gently stretching them. Finally, he

let go of her foot, and she limply let her leg fall back to the ground.

She didn't resist when he lifted her other foot. He began to stroke it as

well, but not with the intensity he'd used before. This touch was

gentler, more distant. Dana sighed in relief as she realized that he

understood her dilemma.

After a few minutes he released that foot as well, and simply

watched her as she continued to rest limply on her chair.

"You look tired."

His words startled her. They hadn't talked for so long now that

she'd grown accustomed to the silence.

"I guess I am, a little. When does the next shift come in?"

Mulder looked at his watch. "In an hour. Then we'll be free to

go and have supper, then rest. Of course, if nothing happens today, you

know we're going to have to do this again tomorrow."

"Yes, I know Mulder. I hope something happens soon, though. I'm

not sure I could stand the monotony of walking the same beat this way for

days on end."

"Well, that's not likely to happen. Lieutenant Welsh didn't seem

too pleased to lend us some of his manpower, so I'd say we've got three

days at most before he loses his patience."

"Three days? Do you think our suspect will attack before then?"

"I can't be one hundred percent sure, Scully, but I have a feeling

he's around. It shouldn't be too long. But chances are it won't happen

today. I'd say there's a better chance of something happening tomorrow.

We've got the early shift, before the businesses open. Ten to one that's

when something is going to happen."

Scully nodded slowly, straightening herself in her chair. The

tension was returning. The anticipation. The hunt. Her instincts and

senses were sharpening again after her temporary rest. She signaled to

the waiter, who quickly walked over to their table, and asked for the

check.

**********

The debriefing at the end of the day was rather uneventful. Of

course, no one had seen anything out of the ordinary, and other than a

couple of shoplifters who had been caught, there was nothing else to

report. By mutual agreement, all parties went their separate ways. They

would meet again at 4 am. The 12 hour night shift had started at 5 pm,

and they would relieve them the next morning.

*********

" 'night Scully."

" 'night Mulder."

She reached to unlock the door to her hotel room, but stopped when

she felt his hand on her shoulder. Turning to look at him, she saw him

bend down towards her. Reaching out with her hand, she pushed against his

chest, keeping him at a distance.

"Mulder, what do you think you're doing?"

"Kissing you good night."

"I realized that. What happened to our agreement? The promise

we'd made not to pursue anything for the moment?"

"But Scully, we've broken that agreement twice in less than 24 hours..."

Dana sighed. This wasn't easy for her, but she was going to have

to be the one to enforce the rules.

"I know, Mulder, and that shouldn't have happened. We've got to

try and keep this promise. We agreed it would be best for everyone. A

situation this complicated shouldn't happen right now."

"Awwww... Come one Scully... just *one* harmless good-night kiss?

Please?"

Scully stared at him, trying to explain her fear with her eyes,

but when he seemed to ignore her silent pleading, she simply sighed and

bowed her head.

"Okay Mulder, but make it quick."

"Oh, Scully, I can't do that. I always take my time."

Scully felt her breath quicken at the implication in his words.

This was going to be a hard refusal. Thinking 'cold' thoughts she nodded,

deciding to stay impassive as he leaned in for the kiss. *It's winter,

I'm freezing, it's snowing outside... I'm in the Arctic circle... Yeah,

cold like it was in Icy Cape.*

She stopped at that thought, thinking of the dangerous

implications. Thinking about the electricity of his hands on her back as

he checked her for contamination.

It was at that precise instant that his lips made contact with

hers, and she was lost.

His kiss was chaste, very light, not containing anything but

promises for the future, which is why she surprised herself when she

wrapped her arms around him and pulled him forcefully to her.

Using every ounce of strength she possessed, she turned them

around, pushing him into the wall. He still seemed too shocked to

respond, so she took that chance to slide her hands up and down the sides

of his torso, feeling his muscles shudder with the contact.

Dana couldn't believe it. Her blood pressure and temperature had

shot through the roof. She wanted him. Wanted him *now*. There would be

no waiting. If she didn't have him tonight, she'd go insane.

It was she who was surprised when he finally began to move and

pushed her away gently. His eyes had gone dark with desire, but he

obviously wanted to say something.

"Um... Do you realize we're still in the hall?"

Dana looked at her surroundings. She turned a deep crimson as she

thought of the fact that anyone could have walked by and seen them.

That's assuming no one had already. And to think they were always so

paranoid about someone watching them. Had she lost *all* her sanity?

"And besides," his voiced had lowered an octave and taken on that

gravely quality she loved, "I promised you to take it slow."

Her knees gave way. She started to collapse, and caught herself

just in time before she fell to the floor. In reality, it was his eyes

that saved her. They seemed to pull her in, give her the strength to stay

standing.

He started moving along the wall, edging towards her door, Dana in

tow as he took her hand and tugged. He pulled her into her room and

kicked the door shut, backing her into it.

"Now, where were we?"

"Right about here..." She replied as she pulled him into her arms

again.

"Oh yeah... that's it."

He smiled down at her as he oh-so-slowly lowered his head to hers.

He was driving her insane. The speed of his descent made her

think she was watching a scene in slow motion, and she desperately wanted

to hit the fast forward button.

She stretched her neck, trying to get as close to his open mouth

as possible, needing his contact. Wanting it more than she wanted to take

her next breath. She reached out with her tongue, thinking she just might

be able to touch him. It worked. They finally made contact. He let his

tongue touch hers, feeling the jolt of electricity crossing through his

body from the contact. With a rush of energy, he suddenly bridged the gap

between their lips and ravished her with a deep kiss.

Mulder broke away, taking in a deep breath, and moved back from

her, once again pulling her along as he headed for the bed. They sat down

facing each other, suddenly unsure what to do or say. This was all so

new.

His eyes found hers, questioning her, wanting to know if this was

too much, too fast. Her responding hungry look told him all he needed to

know. She wanted this as much as he did. The intensity of her gaze made

his insides twist around uncomfortably. She was so strong, so

self-assured. Was he up to the challenge? **Could you back away now if

you wanted to?** He asked himself, and the answer was immediate.

**No.** Besides, he didn't want to.

They began kissing passionately, unable to control themselves.

They fell back on the bed, craving for contact. It was only a matter of

minutes before they had taken off their clothes and were making love.

Time lost its meaning as they thought only of each other, and at

the very end, when passion was at its highest, Mulder leaned down and

whispered into Scully's ear.

"You're the only one I trust. I wouldn't act this way with anyone

else."

Wrapped in each other's arms, they finally felt their heartbeats

return to normal. Mulder turned to his side, his partner following. With

their arms wrapped around each other they relaxed.

Scully moved to look at him and opened her mouth to speak but he

silenced her with a finger against her lips.

"No more talking tonight. I just want to hold you. Please, let me."

She looked into his eyes for a long time, as if searching for some

kind of answer, then simply nodded and moved back into his arms. She fell

asleep almost instantly. Mulder held her tightly and closed his eyes. As

he was drifting off he remembered he had to set the alarm. Reluctantly

pulling away from his sleeping partner, he set the travel alarm and turned

back to wrap his arms around her again. She sighed contentedly in her

sleep and burrowed her head against his chest.

They slept well that night, with no dreams.

**********

Dana heard the alarm go off and went to stretch her arm out to

stop it. She was surprised when she couldn't move it. As her

sleep-fogged brain started to function again she realized that her arms

were crossed against her chest and another pair of arms was encircling

her.

"Mulder."

No response.

"Mulder, the alarm's ringing. We have to get up."

He groaned in his sleep, unwilling to wake up. She pushed her

arms against him, forcing him to move over. Finally his eyes opened, and

he let go of her, stretching languidly. He reached over and turned off

the alarm, then wound his arms back around her.

"It's about time!"

"Good morning to you too, Scully."

"Well, considering that it's 3 am, I don't think you can

technically call this morning."

"Fine, if you're going to split hairs, good night."

He laughed softly and she could feel his chest rise and fall. She

kissed him lightly on the neck.

"Now, are you going to release your death grip on me so I can go

and shower?"

"Maybe, if you say the password."

"Spooky?"

He laughed.

"No. Try again."

"Trust no one?"

He became very serious as he looked into her face.

"I meant what I told you before. I trust you. Implicitly. I've

never trusted anyone this much. Only you."

Tears sprang to her eyes at his words and she managed to move her

arms so she could hug him. They held each other for a moment before she

moved away. She was shocked to see tears in his eyes as well. She looked

at him questioningly and waited patiently for an explanation when she saw

he was trying to speak.

"This... This can't affect us. It's too important to me. They

can't find out. I won't let them split us up. I won't let them try to

drive a wedge between us. I won't let anything happen to you again. I

--"

It was her turn to silence him with her fingers.

"I know. This is important to me too. But listen to me. No

matter what you say you can't protect me all the time. First of all, I'd

be offended if you tried. I'm capable, I'm my own person, and I've got as

much training as you do. Second of all, you can't be everywhere all the

time. When we're investigating or on our own personal time, we will be

separated, and I don't want you to feel responsible for what happens to

me. Finally, things happen. Accidents happen. You can't help them. All

you can do is *hope* they don't happen. And you have to live for the

moment. Take every ounce of love and happiness you can while you have a

chance. I know this. You know this. We learned it the hard way."

Mulder looked at her, amazed by her strength and resolve. He

loved her even more if this was possible. He held her close,

understanding what she meant and showing her he did by this contact.

"What about this? Us? We said that we wouldn't take this

direction. Now that we've done this, can we go back to the way before?

Do you want to?"

"I don't know, Mulder. I want to keep this, but I know it's

dangerous. Not just emotionally but physically too. We know what the

consortium can do. Can you imagine what they'd do if they found out about

us?"

"What if they have already?"

"That's something we'll deal with if we need to. But I know that

if they don't, we can't let them find out. Which is why..."

He continued to look at her as she faltered, seemingly unsure of

what to say.

"What? What is it, Scully?"

"Which is why we can't do this again. At least not soon."

Mulder backed away, as if he'd been struck.

"Why?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, Mulder. I don't want this to

happen any more than you do, but you saw how we reacted last night. Just

one kiss and we were out of control, careless. We might make a mistake,

do something stupid, and we'd be found out. Even though the Bureau

doesn't have any rules about having a relationship, the Consortium can

still make our lives more difficult. They can try to separate us. They

can take one of us. They can..."

She faltered, unable to utter the next few words.

"They can kill one of us, or both of us. I know I wouldn't be

able to stand that either. Which is why this can't continue. Not right

now. I need you to understand this. Don't pull away from me. Don't turn

cold. Just tell me you understand and hold me a few minutes, because when

we leave this room there'll be no turning back."

He edged his way back to her, his eyes the image of a tortured

soul. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. They pulled

each other close, as if they wanted to bury themselves into the other.

This was not an easy decision to make. Mulder knew she was right. It

didn't make it any easier. He had to try and help her. He could feel her

pain.

"I'm not angry at you, Scully. I'm angry at the situation. I

don't want this to change our lives, but you're right. It has. I'm

willing to wait. I don't know how I'll do it, but we'll beat them. We'll

beat them somehow and we'll finally be able to love each other without

having to look over our shoulders."

He held her even tighter, feeling her tears fall onto his arm.

"There's only one thing I need to know."

"She lifted her head and looked into his eyes."

"Can I kiss you again if the shopkeeper tries to talk to us today?"

Scully laughed. She couldn't help herself. The situation was so

bizarre. She lowered her head to Mulder's neck and deposited one last

kiss before extricating herself from his arms and the covers. As she

stood up she looked at him longingly one last time before heading to the

bathroom.

"Want me to join you in the shower?"

"Mul-der!"

He gave her his best puppy dog look.

"Don't tell me you don't want me to join you. I know you'd be lying."

She sighed. He knew he was tempting her. Why did she have the be

the one to enforce the rule she was so angry at having to follow anyway?

"Mulder, don't do this to me. Besides, it's 3:15 am. We only

have forty five minutes to get ready and make it to the police station!

Tell you what, I'll race you as to who can take the shortest shower. The

first one to finish can run to the other's room and turn off the hot

water."

"You're on!"

He took off for his room through the connecting door, and she

heard his bathroom door bang shut. Dana laughed as she entered her own

bathroom and locked the door.

**********

The atmosphere in the briefing room wasn't very congenial. The

agents weren't happy at having spent the whole day yesterday waiting for a

criminal that didn't strike. They were restless, wishing this would be

over with.

After the final instructions, the pairs of agents and policemen

went on their way. Mulder approached the two policemen they'd originally

worked with.

"Detective Vecchio, constable Fraser, I see we'll be placed near

each other."

Ray tried his best to smile. Being stuck near Fibbies for ten

hours wasn't exactly his idea of a fun day.

"Well, I guess I'll see you out there, agent Mulder."

They headed out of the room for their respective cars. The

surveillance was different than that of the day before, at least until

shop opening hours. It would be very suspicious if that many people were

walking on the street at five in the morning.

**********

It was 6:30 am and the sun was just starting to rise. Mulder

opened the car door and, balancing the tray of coffees and crullers.

"Mmmmmm... Smells good!"

"Thought you might need a pick-me-up."

He smiled, handing her a steaming cup of freshly brewed Mocha Java.

She wrapped her hands around it, feeling the warmth seeping into

her cold hands. The weather was nice by day, but after dark (**Or before

morning,** she told herself) the air got quite chilly. Dana felt the need

to make conversation, feeling a little uncomfortable sitting next to the

man she'd made love to only a few hours ago. Her expression darkened as

she once again cursed the Consortium for preventing them from having a

normal life.

"Penny for your thoughts," Mulder broke into her musings.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if the criminal will

strike today."

"Well, I certainly hope so. I do know that if he doesn't strike

today, we'll be having a hard time rounding up enough manpower to have a

third day of surveillance."

"How sure we you of the profile?"

"Well, no one can be absolutely sure of something like that, but

I'm as reasonably sure as I can be. He should strike within the next few

day--"

Mulder never got to finish that word, or his sentence because an

alarm suddenly sounded.

"Speak of the devil, Scully. Let's go!"

They ran out of the car, food forgotten for now, and headed

towards the car with the two policemen.

"Vecchio, Fraser, come on!"

The two men were on their way out, Ray explaining that he had

taken a few seconds to radio for back-up.

All four ran towards the direction of the alarm. It seemed rather

near. Half a block later, they came near a store whose front window had

been smashed in. Slowing down, they approached with caution. Mulder

signaled for Vecchio and Fraser to circle around the back while he and

Scully would examine the front.

They crouched down and moved to the front of the store, staying

low so they would not be visible from the inside of the store. Mulder

hazarded a look, raising his head only slightly. He lowered himself

almost immediately.

"I saw some movement inside," he whispered to Scully. They looked

at each other, trying to decide whether to wait for the criminal to exit

or whether they should go in. They were spared from having to make the

final decision when they heard a gunshot and a man screaming. Not

hesitating, they both got up and ran for the back of the store, stopping

at the edge of the wall. Scully carefully looked around the corner to see

what was happening before she jumped out, in fighting stance, gun aimed

and ready.

"Whoa! Whoa! It's okay, agent Scully. We're alright."

It was detective Vecchio speaking. He was crouching over a man,

who was unconscious and bleeding profusely from a bullet wound.

"He came out the back and tried to jump us, but I shot him before

he got the chance. Benny went inside to check to see if there were any

others. You might want to go check on him while I call for an ambulance."

"It's alright, Ray. I'm back," Fraser said as he walked out of

the store. "There was no one else inside. I checked. This man was

obviously working alone. Is he the suspect we were looking for?"

Mulder stared down at the injured man, taking a good look at his face.

"Well, it's hard to say, considering that our best description is

the colour of his eyes and his are closed, but it seems like the build,

height, and weight are right."

Scully didn't waste any time looking at the suspect, but bent down

over him, administering first aid while they waited for the emergency

medical team to arrive.

It didn't take long before they heard the sirens approaching. The

technicians drove up to the back of the store through the alley and

stopped next to them. It took a few minutes for them to ascertain the

criminal's condition, strap him onto the gurney, and load him up in the

vehicle before they took off towards the nearest hospital, with a police

escort.

"Well, looks like a wrap, boys. What say we go on over to the

station and fill out the necessary paperwork?"

"Good idea, Vecchio. But remember, this is our case, so we're the

one who have to fill in the paperwork."

Ray smiled. "I know. I just couldn't help rubbing it in."

He turned around just in time to miss Mulder's glare. If looks

could kill...

**********

"I just called the hospital. They said the suspect is in stable

condition, and he was moved out of ICU a few hours ago. He regained

consciousness once, though he didn't say anything. He only grunted a

couple of times, then passed out again."

"Sounds like our man, Scully."

He'd smiled at her as she'd walked through the door to their

temporary office at the Chicago FBI offices.

"I've taken the opportunity to begin the paperwork on this case.

I imagine that Skinner will be happy about a normal resolution for once."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you."

"Why, Scully?"

"There's still the matter of the fingers growing back. Did you

noticed that our suspect had his ten fingers? He was fingerprinted upon

arrival at the hospital, and the prints matched the ones that were found

in the various crime scenes *as well* as those found on the fingers

Vecchio and Fraser retrieved."

"Hmmm... curioser and curioser."

"I've had a series of lab tests done on him, including some

cultures. If this man is able to grow back fingers -- not that I believe

that he did, but that remains to be proven -- then there's got to be an

observable genetic, macromolecular, and microscopic phenomenon."

"Oooooo I love it when you talk dirty."

**********

Chantal reached for the ringing phone as she finished cutting some

vegetables for a casserole.

"Hello?"

"Miss Kuhn, this is agent Mulder."

She froze, unsure how to respond.

"Yes?"

"I'm just calling to tell you that we've apprehended a suspect who

fits the description you've given us, and we'd like it if you would come

down to identify him."

She felt herself begin to tremble. Could it be possible that this

ordeal might finally be over?

"When?"

"Well, not right away. Our suspect is still in the hospital, but

he should be released tomorrow, so we'll call you as soon as it's possible

for you to come downtown and identify him. Alright?"

"Yes. Thank you."

She dropped the phone back in its place and sank to the floor in

relief. It was over. It was finally over, she repeated to herself as she

hugged her knees and rocked back and forth. She could go on with her

life. Tomorrow.

**********

Mulder and Scully walked down the corridor towards their rooms,

tired after a very long day's work. They were both looking forward to a

hot shower and a good night's sleep.

As they reached Scully's door she turned towards him.

" 'night Mulder."

" 'night Scully."

They both tried to not let their minds remember the last time

they'd been in this situation. Standinging there, looking in each other's

eyes, they both seemed to come to the same conclusion. It wouldn't happen

tonight.

Sighing, Mulder reached out and cupped her chin, rubbing her

bottom lip with his thumb.

"Sweet dreams," he said, as she leaned down to place a kiss on her

cheek and moved on to his own room.

Dana waited until he'd reached his room and had looked back at

her, smiling, before she opened her own door. Closing it, she leaned back

against it, suddenly feeling weak. She took a deep breath and sighed as

she released it. Their friendship had survived. They would make it. And

someday, hopefully soon, they would be able to be together. Permanently.

**********

Chantal was escorted to the dark room with the one-sided mirror by

detective Vecchio. When she stepped inside she recognized the other three

people who had helped her. Agents Mulder and Scully were near the mirror

while constable Fraser was more to the side.

It was agent Scully who approached her, a concerned expression on

her face.

"Now, I just want to remind you that this is a one-sided mirror.

You'll be able to see them, but they won't be able to see you or hear

you. There will be four men walking in, one of them is the suspect. Take

your time, look at the line-up, and when you feel ready, tell us if you

recognize the man who attacked you. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

Chantal tried to sound convincing when she answer, but she didn't

quite manage as a small waver could be heard, even with just that one

syllable.

She heard Vecchio's voice as he ordered for the men to enter the

room, and, in a daze, forced herself to look at the lighted room on the

other side of the glass partition. The men walked in slowly, single

file. She didn't even have to wait for them to turn and face the mirror.

He was there. She'd recognized him right away. As he turned Chantal

tried to look into his eyes, but they burned with anger as she tried to

look at his face, and she turned away quickly.

"It's him. Number three."

"Are you sure?" Mulder pried, wanting to get absolute confirmation.

"Y-yes. I'm s-s-sure."

She barely managed to stutter that last phrase as she felt all the

strength leave her and she collapsed onto a nearby chair, sobbing

uncontrollably. She felt a hand tap her shoulder lightly, and as she

turned to see who it was she saw a red-clad arm reaching out to offer her

a tissue. Overwhelmed by her conflicting emotions over the criminal: the

fear of seeing him again, the relief of knowing he'd finally go to jail,

the tension of the last few weeks not knowing if she was safe -- it all

came to a boil. She was so overwhelmed by the Mountie's kindness that she

got up and threw her arms around his neck as she burst into tears once

again.

Fraser was taken aback by the woman's impulsive actions and he

froze for a second, unsure what to do. But with the sounds of her crying

he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, trying to soothe her with

some reassuring words.

"It's okay, miss. It's over. Everything's alright now. You're safe."

He rocked her back and forth, continuing to try to comfort her.

Finally her sobs subsided and she pulled back slightly. He reached into

his belt pouch and pulled out another tissue. He handed it to her, but

when she didn't respond he wiped the moisture away from her eyes.

The contact brought her out of her daze and she blushed

self-consciously, bowing her head slightly.

"Thank you," she said, as she smiled and looked back up at him.

"It was nothing," he responded, an automatic comment. He looked

down at her to give her a reassuring smile and stopped as he saw the

intensity of her look. Worried by the effect she was having on him, he

swallowed quickly and excused himself as he backed away and went out into

the hall.

The others had been more or less aware of what had just happened,

but they had been busy going through the motions of having the criminal

locked away, so they hadn't done anything about it.

***********

An hour later, all the appropriate paperwork had been filled out

and it was time for Mulder and Scully to leave the precinct. They shook

hands with detective Vecchio and constable Fraser, thanking them for the

help.

"It was a pleasure, agent Mulder, agent Scully," Fraser replied,

smiling as he ignored the kick to the ankle Ray was giving him.

"Yeah, it's been real nice," Ray added, trying to make it sound sincere.

Both agents turned and walked away, leaving the two friends together.

"What did you do that for, Ray? I must say that for

representatives of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, they are *very*

easy to work with."

"Compared to what?"

"Well, compared to the last agents we had to work with."

"You got a point there, Benny. Besides she was way better to look

at than that idiot, agent Ford."

"I didn't notice, Ray."

"Yeah, right, and I've got green curly hair growing off my head.

You did *too* notice, just like you noticed that other woman."

"What other woman?"

"Miss Kuhn."

"She was crying, Ray. I merely extended professional courtesy."

"Oh so *that's* what you extended? Show me the section in your

rulebook that says you're supposed to wipe away a woman's tears. Admit

it, Benny. You want her."

"That's preposterous, Ray!"

"Sure, whatever. We'll see..."

Ray grabbed his coat and walked towards the exit of the bullpen,

leaving Benny sitting in a chair, unable to reply.

**********

(a week later)

Dana walked down to her partner's office and knocked. It only

took a second for him to yell out an "It's open!" before she turned the

knob and let herself in.

"Gee, Mulder. You seem particularly cheerful today."

"What can I say, Scully? I'm on my fifth cup of coffee today.

Does it show?"

"Barely," she teased.

He smiled at her, a conspiratorial look in his eyes.

"I assume there's a good reason why you're interrupting me and

forcing me to tear my attention away from a fascinating new X-File. So,

what can I do you for?"

She ignored his come-on and smiled at him. It felt so good to be

back to the old camaraderie. Sure, it had been hard for the first few

days for them to stay in the same room together, especially with the case

resolved. But they had come through with flying colours, finally able to

rely on their habitual banter. It was a good sign. More proof that their

friendship could weather anything. And someday... when things were

resolved, when the Consortium's dirty laundry had been aired in public,

they'd be able to finally act on their love. In public.

"Earth to Scully. Come in Scully."

She shook herself from her reverie and concentrated on her

surroundings once again.

"Oh, sorry. I came in to tell you that the lab results on the

suspect we arrested in Chicago just came in."

"And?"

"Well, the results would seem to indicate that all your hypotheses

were right."

Mulder held back from gloating. For now. He simply listened as

she continued to list off lab results and planned on how he could use this

in the future as an 'I told you so'.

"The hospital technician started some primary cultures from

biopsies of muscle, skin and bone tissue. She split them enough times to

generate several dozens dishes of identical tissue, and began some tests.

"First, she noticed that at high and low serum content, the cells

had a doubling time well above the average for human cells, approaching

that which she saw for transformed hamster cells... The doubling time is

much less than a day.

"Next she tried some standard toxin tests, using both apoptotic

and non-apoptotic agents."

"Apopwhat?" Mulder interrupted.

"Apoptotic. It's another term for programmed cell death. Cells

have an inborn program which causes them to commit suicide if they undergo

a certain type of stress, such as radiation, or receive a signal, such as

an improper growth signal."

"Okay..."

"Basically, Mulder, these cells always die the same way, turning

into dense particles called apoptotic bodies. It was this regularity that

allowed scientists to first identify the phenomenon. When the technician

subjected the cells to different agents, they seemed to die off at a much

slower rate."

"So these cells are unaffected by the agents?"

"Not quite, but they take longer before they are affected. This

might give them an advantage in the body, where normally a toxin isn't

around as long as it was in the tissue culture dishes."

"Alright, Scully, but that still doesn't explain to me how that

man could have grown back fingers."

***********

"Not by itself, it can't. However, there's something else I have

to explain to you before I go on. When a cell matures, it either divides

a number of times and then dies, or else it receives a signal to stop

growing. It is believed that cancer is a situation where a cell no longer

has the ability to die, or gets a signal to grow and divide non-stop. In

reality, it's believed that a combination of both is what results in

cancerous cells, which then turn into tumours if the conditions are

right."

"Alright, but I still don't understand, Scully."

"There's more. In some species of animals, for example some types

of lizards, there is the ability to regrow limbs. If the lizard gets

caught by the tail, it simply breaks it off and runs off. Later, the tail

grows back."

Mulder's eyes lit up as he began to understand what his partner

was leading to.

"Humans don't have that ability. You're implying that our suspect

has somehow regained the ability to regrow parts of his body?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, Mulder, it sounds like it. I'm

not able to explain exactly how he does it, but the first signs seem to

point to that conclusion. There is other evidence... Some preliminary

marker testing showed abnormal chromosomal organization. Several

independents scans have shown that his body is riddled with small tumours,

though histological tests of the biopsies seem to indicate that they are

all benign. He's an anomaly, Mulder. There won't be an easy explanation

as to how he managed to regrow his fingers until a more in-depth study of

his genetic structure can be done. If we're lucky we'll start getting

some more results in a month or two. If we're not lucky, it could take

years before researchers have anything concrete."

"Amazing, Scully. Isn't it amazing how nature produces such

creatures?"

"It's not amazing, Mulder. It's rather alarming. I told you once

before, on the Flukeman case. Our polluting of the planet is causing

problems. I didn't think we'd seen the last of the mutants then, and I

don't think we've seen the last of them now, either."

"Could this man be the answer to the prayers of all the people who

have lost a limb?"

"Possibly. We won't know until we understand how he did it himself."

"The mind reels with the possibilities."

"*Your* mind reels with the possibilities. But then it always does."

"And what about the 'wildness', Scully? Is it possible he was not

raised in a civilization, just like the Jersey Devil? He could have

somehow been rescued from the wild later in life. That would allow him to

use such tools as a syringe, but would explain his lack of speech and his

wild behaviour."

Dana sighed as she saw his eyes glaze over. He was off in his own

world, trying to imagine the history of such a mutant.

"Well, Mulder, as much as I'd love to stay and continue exchanging

niceties with you, it's time for me to go home.

He snapped out of his reverie at her last words. Jumping out of

his chair he reached for his coat on the coat rack.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He opened the door and guided her through, placing his hand on the

small of her back.

Dana shivered and smiled. Yes, things were definitely back to normal.

The end.

FoLC, X-Phile Relationshipper and DueSer in mourning