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Title: Dogged Determination: I. Watched Summary: The Dog Scully takes in is more then he appears to be. Those looking for the animal are willing to kill to get him.
Chapter 1 He was scared. So scared. His side hurt abominably, and he limped, fairly certain his leg was sprained if not broken. But he had to think fast. He couldn't give up. It wasn't only himself who would fall if the hunters caught him. His brothers and sisters, cousins and aunts and uncles... all of them would pay the ultimate price. He slunk into an alley, whimpering a bit in pain, but quickly choking off the sound. THEY could be close by. His senses were dulled from the car crash. He couldn't count on them. He felt at a loss. Maybe he should throw himself out into a busy street. A Mac truck ought to do the trick... But even that was uncertain. What if he was only hurt worse, and THEY caught him? He'd thought about killing himself a lot over the past two days. Ever since he lost Joe. Wonderful, loyal Joe Doddard. Joe, the vet. Joe, the one who knew and understood. Joe who had been forced off the road after a car chase for no other reason then because he was a good man, willing to die to protect his best friend. Raw emotion boiled up in his chest at the thought of Joe. And he wished his could cry. Crying always looked like it was a relief. All he could do was slump and whimper a bit more. He was so alone. So afraid. He needed help. But where could he turn? He limped further into the alley, and staggering, knocked over a trash bin. He froze at the sudden, violent noise of the can crashing into the pavement. Like a deer in headlights he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Then a door opened, blinding him in a wash of too bright light. He flinched and squinted against the glare. He saw a figure there, a silhouette. A woman. He tried to run then, but he came down too hard on his leg. He cried out. The woman came closer...
One more, mundane, simple task to make life appear normal. Dana Scully balanced both trash bags in one hand as she reached for the door that led to the alley and the dumpster. Her mindless task was forgotten at the sound of a trash can falling. The noise loud and startling an adrenaline rush. She dropped the bags and reached for her gun, only to find she wasn't wearing it. Not to take out the trash... She chewed her lip with indecision for a moment, anything could be out there and she was unarmed. But never one to shrink from danger, she threw open the back door. The spill of light from behind her seemed to pin a dirty, worn looking dog. It squinted into the light then tried to bolt. She felt foolish until it let out a yelp and stopped. The dog was hurt. Its leg was swollen and its side was coated with either mud or blood. Something in Scully went out to the poor creature. It would most likely die alone out there, or end up mad from pain and attack someone. Before she knew quite what she had planned she was moving slowly towards the animal. It whimpered and she started a soothing litany of mindless words. "Shhhh... there boy. Are you a boy or a girl? I'm not gonna hurt you. I want to take a look at you." The dog stilled its trembling, its gaze seemed to be measuring. The intensity of the animal's eyes reminded her forcibly of Mulder for some unknown reason. Then the dog dropped its head, its tail began to wag and it limped slightly toward her. She was cautious. It could easily turn vicious and bite, especially pained as it was. The closer she got she could discern a long gash on its side, and the leg was definitely inflamed. She should take it in it to the SPCA to be put down if it didn't have a collar. Still weary, she reached out her hand and touched the slightly matted fur of its head. Under the dirt she could discern the earmarks of a pure bred golden retriever. Her discerning eye taking in the proportions and lines. This was a damn fine animal under the signs of misuse. It would be a shame to put such a creature down. Sighing she stood up. "Can you make it up some stairs? I'll clean you up and get some food in you. I might have something in my bag to take care of that side of yours." She patted her leg to call the dog, and it meekly fell into step at her heel. She smiled. It was well behaved too. Dana Kathrine Scully what the Hell are you thinking? You do NOT need another dog. Queequeg had been gone barely a month... and he had been SMALL. She shook her head. She'd clean it up, maybe take it to a vet, then she could put an ad in the paper, free to good home. The dog followed her inside and waited as she tossed the garbage bags into the dumpster. It heeled perfectly as it limped up the few stairs. It really would be a shame to destroy such a nice animal.
The dog was by far the most well behaved she had ever heard of. It didn't jump on her furniture. As a matter of fact it had limped into her kitchen as if fearing its filth would mark up her rug. She shook her head at the foolish thought. Its last owners must have relegated it to the kitchen. She examined the dog's injuries carefully, and it didn't pull away. It did whine and yelp when she touched a particularly sore spot. its leg was sprained, not broken though, which was good news. It had licked its wound, most likely cleaning it fairly well, for there were no signs of infection along the gash in its side. "Look boy," Scully smiled, for a cursory examination had revealed it was definitely a male, and not neutered, "I'm gonna try and get you in the tub. I'll be as gentle as I can, but you need to be cleaned up, and then I can determine if I need to put any stitches in your side. I don't know of any vets open this late. So if you are good I might be able to take care of this myself. Don't worry, I'm a doctor." Scully laughed suddenly, she was talking to him like she had to Queequeg, as if it could understand her. She really needed a life. An hour later the dog was much cleaner, and if viewed totally from the right side he would pass as a prize winning pure bred. His red/gold coat glistened. He'd stood still for the hair drier. Scully had decided to give it a shot to rid herself of the smell of wet dog after the animal had stood perfectly still and allowed her to disfigure his left side into a parody of a dog. She had had to shave the area of the gash, ten inches of pinkish dog skin peeked out of his sleek coat. He had whined, but made no move as she had given him a shot of local anesthetic then sewed up the gash. Fifteen neat little stitches. She had also wrapped his leg in an ace bandage. She was amazed beyond belief. The dog didn't squirm, or try to remove the bandage. It didn't flinch when she'd used her razor to shave the area of the wound, or stitched it up, not even when she applied the bedidine. It was a better patient then Mulder. Once clean and dry, patched and tended the animal had padded around her apartment, looking things over. It had actually seemed to pause at her open ID wallet and gun laying where she had tossed them on the coffee table when she had come home. The dog looked at them, then at her, then back. The gesture gave her a prickling sensation up her spine. Then it had moved on. Sniffing around a bit before she fed it from a bag of Queequeg's dry food she had still not tossed out. For all his obvious hunger he did not attack the food. He ate almost daintily. Filled he padded to the living room then curled up in front of her couch swiftly falling asleep. She sat on a chair looking at the creature. It was an enigma, but it was a harmless one. "What have you gotten yourself into?" she asked herself. Mentally she chided herself and told herself she would call the paper and place an ad in the morning. She tried to shrug off the part of her that didn't want to.
Chapter 2. The phone rang urgently. He wasn't sure why he thought he detected urgency in the ringing of a phone, but he did. He crossed the office and lifted the receiver. "Johnson Security." The thin black man spoke clearly into the phone, running his hand through his short greying hair. He was tired, it had been a long night. The system he'd set up for one of his clients had a glitch so he'd spent a late night figuring out what was wrong and working on fixing it. He stiffened at the words on the other end of the phone and he ran down a mental list of names. "You certain about this?" He sighed. Looking up he saw Karen standing in the door way. His wife frowned at his body language and absently stroked the head of the dog at her side. "Shit. Is there any way of knowing if Buster got away or was taken?" At the name both the woman and the dog at her side became alert and focused. Johnson nodded and listened for a while then sighed. "I'll pack and get a flight to Washington right away." He looked over at Karen then at the dog. "Yeah, I'll be sure to bring Uncle Scrappy, he'll be wanting to find out what happened as much as we do." The retriever stepped forward and gave one sharp bark. Lemuel Johnson hung up the phone and met his wife's eyes. "That was Travis. There's a problem. We have a friend in Annapolis who may need our help." "Be careful Lem. Both of you." Karen ruffled the fur on the top of Scrappy's head.
Harold Cook bent down, his black trenchcoat dragging into the mud around him. He looked at the paw prints in the soft earth. With a pencil he lifted the dog collar laying there. It was next to a chain fence with a broken link. The collar had been sawed against the jagged link until the leather snapped. "I told you we were on the right track Cook. You tellin' me an ordinary dog would lose his identification?" Cook looked up at his partner, Frank Webb. Webb was tall and dark, a thick mustache offset his Italian looks. Cook didn't much care for his partner, or for this assignment. Chasing after some damn fool mutt that may have been infected with some biological hazard that another dog had escaped with from Banodyne Laboratories all of ten years ago. If the damn infection was so bloody dangerous then why wasn't there much of a problem? Hell if it effected humans the media would have a hold of the story by now. This felt like shit work. Webb insisted that a side effect of the biological contaminant was heightened intelligence in the carrier. "Looks like a wounded dog got snagged and pulled itself free. That's what it looks like." Cook read the tags. All the proper shots, and a name tag. BUSTER. Then again the dog's owner had been a vet, if the dog had been sick wouldn't the owner know it? Something about this case didn't add up. Webb snorted. "You go right on thinkin that... and we'll lose this one just like Johnson lost the original carrier ten years ago." Cook ignored his partner's ravings and dumped the collar in a baggie. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and stood. A short man, he had to look up at Webb, but wasn't ever intimidated by the fact. What scared him is that the NSA gave people like Webb guns... "Let's just see if we can pick up the trail. The blood at the crash site would indicate the mutt's wounded. It can't have gotten far. With any luck the SPCA or a vet will call him in. They are all on the lookout." Cook headed back to the car, leaving Webb to follow or not, but he didn't plan on waiting around.
Dana finished brushing her hair. She had gotten up early and took the dog for a walk. It didn't seem to much care for the leash, but it appeared to put up with it stoically. On returning she had called three different papers to place an ad. Not free to good home. This animal was not only purebred but in excellent health other than the signs of some sort of struggle or accident. It was well fed and its nails were trimmed. This dog had an owner who cared about it somewhere. Now if that owner had thought to give his or her pet a collar the whole situation would have been resolved by now. "Look, I'll be back later tonight. I'm sorry I have to leave you all day, but I have a job." Scully crouched and ran her fingers through the silky fur around the dog's ruff. "Be good, and if you ruin my carpet I'll use your hide to cover the spot." The dog actually looked insulted. It snorted loudly. "So... until an owner shows up, what am I going to call you?" She smiled and rechecked the animal's stitched side. "Well you are a survivor... I know. I'll call you Ishmael. How about Ishy for short?" The dog pushed his head gently at her chest, almost toppling her. "Ok, Ishy it is. Now be good while I'm gone. Wait till I tell Mulder about you. He's gonna either have seven kinds of fits or be a joy to watch as he tries NOT to have a fit." Scully patted the dog's head and left, locking the door behind her.
She was gone. She was nice. She was trouble as much as she was salvation. He understood about the lost and found ads she'd placed. THEY would be looking for just such a thing. He looked at the desk by the window. Seated atop it was a computer. The dog once known as Buster almost seemed to smile.
Mulder was already wading through a pile of paperwork when she arrived. He looked up at her over the top of his reading glasses and poked his pencil at the coffee machine. She eyed it, then the stack of files awaiting HER and made a beeline. Once fortified she sat down opposite Mulder and plugged in her laptop. Paperwork. She hated the dreaded excreata of bureaucracy. They had only returned from a field assignment in Wyoming yesterday afternoon. With any luck they could put enough of a dent in these documents of doom so that they could have the weekend free. Scully pulled the top file from the tower awaiting her and glanced at the list documenting a budget report from a case nearly a month ago. "Mulder how long have we been putting this off?" He smiled slightly, not even looking at her as his long fingers danced over his own keyboard. "Long enough that Skinner is currently threatening us with an assignment running wiretap on a suspected polar bear poacher in Alaska if the backed up reports and files are not on his desk by Monday morning." Scully's jaw dropped. She looked over the neat stacks around them and looked back at Mulder. "The CDC confiscated my long underwear after our last jaunt up north. Looks like I had better buy some more." Mulder actually chuckled,"Do your long underwear have those easy access trap doors in the back?" She flicked her plastic coffee stirrer at him. "Since I doubt we'll get this all done today, your place or mine?" He had dropped his voice for the last bit, to a semi whisper. "Ummm... Better be mine. I have something I have to be doing..." Mulder frowned slightly. "Do you have a date?" Yeah, as if. She wondered what he'd say if she said yes?"No. I just have a..." "Scully are you shedding?" She looked at him, startled into silence for all of two seconds. "WHAT?" He stood up and circled the desk before crouching next to her. He was still frowning, those little creases forming on his forehead so endearingly. He reached out to run his finger's softly over the fabric of her blouse, just above her left breast. Her breath caught for an eternal minute before he moved his hand back to hold it in front of her. Trapped between his thumb and forefinger were two strands of red/gold hair. "Not quite your shade. Something you want to tell me?" When the power of speech was returned to her she cocked an eyebrow and met Mulder's hazel gaze unflinchingly. "Well... I call him Ishmael." She fought hard against a smile. "I knew this Moby Dick obsession of yours would get you into trouble. Does he have a real name?" His tone was teasing but there was something in his eyes was it disappointment or hurt, or both? And what right did he have to have either emotion reflected there. "I don't know we never discussed it. But he's very handsome, with just that shade of hair and the softest brown eyes. I don't know there was just a connection." She smiled sweetly and pulled the strands from Mulder's fingers. "He's a bit short, even to me... but he more then makes up for it in manners." The look on Mulder's face almost made her loose control and ruin the fun. That wounded puppy look would give Ishmael a run for his money. "Where did you meet him? This mystery man?" "In the alley behind my house. He was lost and alone, and hurt. So I took him in, cleaned him up and fed him." She couldn't help but smile. This was too perfect. The look of shocked horror on Mulder's face almost tore away her fragile control. "You WHAT?" Mulder shot to his feet and began pacing the room, running his hands through his hair in barely controlled rage. "You took in some street person? Scully I never pegged you for stupid... he could have been violent, insane or even an assassin... God Scully this has to be the most brainless..." Scully laughed. It was a sound seldom heard, especially in the office and it brought him up short. He looked at her like she had lost her mind. "It's a dog Mulder. Ishmael is a dog. He's a purebred Retriever with the sweetest disposition. I think he'd been hit by a car or something, but he was well fed and despite the signs of recent trauma, in good health. I am certain he's got an owner out looking for him so I'm keeping him while I run an add in some papers. Now will you calm down and try to get as much of this crap done as we can today?" "A dog?" He looked at a loss, until one of his rare room brightening smiles lit his face. "You took in a stray? I never pegged you for such a soft touch Scully." "Well I took you in didn't I?" She turned in her chair to begin on the paperwork. She was waiting for him to say something else. Maybe a jab like 'at least a retriever is a REAL dog' or some other comment. But it didn't come. He'd never much cared for Queequeg, and he made no pretense at grief over his demise. But he did respect her feelings on the subject, and he recognized it was still a sore spot for her. He'd returned to his desk and they worked in a comfortable silence for a half hour before Scully looked at him over the field of files. "Chinese tonight? My apartment, my dishes, YOU buy." "Sure Scully, take advantage of me." She shook her head and reached for another file.
Chapter 3. Scully unlocked the door and pushed it open. The dog was seated in the hall, far enough back that he wouldn't trip her. She smiled at him and held the door open for Mulder. The dog stood up as Mulder entered the apartment, hefting the box originally designed to hold computer paper but now stuffed with the paperwork they had not managed to finish at the office and topped off with the bag containing chinese take out. Mulder set the box down then stood, hands on hips, staring at the dog. "Scully it's a mutant." The dog huffed through its nose and limped to Mulder, looking up at him. He didn't make the normal dog action of sniffing out a new person, he just stared. "Mulder I had to do that to patch him up. He's actually a prime example of his breed. Mulder hadn't moved. "Scully... He's STARING at me." Mulder didn't look away. He didn't want to loose a staredown to a dog, but something in this dog's eyes sent a shiver down his spine. its eyes, they weren't... normal. Mulder frowned, searching the direct gaze piercing him. The eyes were the soft brown of any dog, right shape, no unusual color. So what was it? Expressive. Those eyes had a depth that didn't have any place in the eyes of a dog. Mulder couldn't look away. Some small part of his mind registered that a dog was supposed to have a short attention span, so why was this one not moving? "You don't HAVE to stare back you know." Scully patted her leg and held up the leash. "Come on Ishy, you've been a good boy." The dog snorted again and broke the competition, opting for a relieving walk. As Scully hooked the leash the dog shot Mulder what could only be interpreted as a smug look. Once they were out the door Mulder moved the box into the living room and took the large paper bag filled with their take out dinner off the top. Storing the dinner in the kitchen he sat on the couch and tried to divvy up the work fairly, and to ignore the idea that there was more to that dog then met the eye.
In a dingy diner Cook sipped at his coffee, absently perusing the classified section of one paper even as Webb poured over the same section of another. Webb had declared the exercise was equal to looking for a needle in an entire barn. Cook pushed his glasses further up his nose and ran his hand over his balding head. He was beginning to agree with Webb. Satan must be out buying a pair of ice skates, the day had come that he was agreeing with Webb. Webb was chewing on the end of his thick mustache, just one of his annoying habits. He looked across the table at his partner questioningly. "You gonna tell me why we are really after this mutt? If it's a biological hazard like I was told the CDC would be after it. I can't see how a dog is a threat to national security." "I'm not supposed to tell you, but the original infected dog was being tested with a new form of biological warfare. We CAN'T let the CDC know about this. Or anyone else." Webb looked back at his paper. "But again, the original carrier escaped ten YEARS ago Frank. If this experiment was so deadly it would have spread like wildfire in that amount of time." Webb stared at his partner, something cold and calculating in his eyes. He never much cared for Cook, if Cook wasn't such a good tracker he'd have told his bosses to kiss his ass. But if the man didn't stop asking questions he shouldn't, Webb would take great pleasure in putting a bullet between Cook's eyes when this job was done. Cook never learned the fine art of following orders and not asking questions. Which was why the jerk was fifty and still working assignments like this. Under the command of younger, and more circumspect agents. He was spared having to say anything when Cook flashed a grin and held up his paper. "Looky here. Found, Retriever. Annapolis area. Good health. Call 555-3636." Webb slapped down his paper. "Let's get to it then. We have to contain this thing." Cook paused as he slid out of the booth, for some reason he didn't care for the implications of Webb's words. He didn't care for it at all.
Dana fed a quarter into the box at the end of her street and pulled out the evening edition. Ishy sat at her feet quietly, looking up at her. Tucking an errant lock of auburn hair behind her ear she flipped through the classifieds. Frowning a little she started the short return walk to her apartment. "Now when we get back try not to antagonize Mulder will you? He doesn't like being outdone by a dog." Scully smiled and Ishy gave a soft woof. X Webb had called the number in the paper on the way. A man had answered and confirmed that the dog in question was a golden retriever, and didn't appear to be a stray. Webb had told him they would be by to pick up his daughter's dog in short order. "I'll lead this dance. You just get the dog." Webb announced as they got out of the car. Cook held the muzzle and leash in his hand as they approached the door. This was the address the man on the phone had given. Webb knocked and the door was opened by a smiling dark haired man. "You must be here for the dog. Do you mind if I ask you to call him, just to be sure. We've sort of gotten attached to him, if you know what I mean." Webb smiled easily, only Cook noticed the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Sure thing. Where is he?" "In the back room. He just got back from a walk." The man held the door open allowing Webb and Cook access to the apartment. "Buster," Webb called into the house. "Buster, here boy." There was no reaction in the house. Webb frowned. He'd been warned that if the subject was what it was suspected it was he was quite capable of playing 'dumb dog'. "You said he was here?" A small woman emerged from what appeared to be a kitchen. "You must be Mr. Jones. He didn't react at all. Maybe you should come on back and check to make sure." Cook followed Webb into the kitchen. The place was scrupulously neat. Almost sterile. The Dog was drinking from a plastic cool whip container being used as a water dish. The animal looked up at him and cocked its head. Webb met its eyes. The dog whimpered questioningly. "That's our Buster all right. Look I'd really like to thank you for taking him in. My kid was at a loss for the past week. She's really attached to him ya know." Webb motioned him and Cook stepped forward to place the muzzle and the leash on the dog. "Is that necessary? He's such a good dog, I think muzzling him is a bit extreme," the woman spoke up. "He's usually really good, but he goes nutty in the car. Mike why don't you take him out. I'll finish up here." Cook looked at Webb questioningly. Something freezing in his heart. "Come on Mike, You know the reward." Webb shrugged. "We had a five hundred dollar reward for Buster's safe return." Cook felt off. Yes, there was a reward promised on the posters given to the SPCA and vets in the area. But he hadn't expected it to be paid up under this situation. "All right. Thanks folks. We really appreciate you returning Buster to us." Cook led the mildly protesting dog out to the car. Once his partner was out of the house Webb smiled at the couple before him. "Now about that reward..." He pulled out his silencer equipped Walther ppk and took quick aim. There was a moment of shocked fear on the man's face before a neat hole blossomed in his forehead with a fine mist of blood exploding out the back of his head. The woman didn't scream, even though her face was a mask of horror, she dove for cover, just outside the kitchen door. Webb stepped around the door and saw her trying to cross the living room. Two shots took her in the back. She fell and was still as he approached. To be certain he pressed his gun to the back of her head and pulled the trigger once more. Unscrewing the silencer he deposited it in his pocket and checked the house. Neither he nor Cook had touched anything. It looked like their job was done. Mr. and Mrs. Chisdok wouldn't have to worry about the dog they found anymore.
Mulder looked up when Scully came back in. She tossed the paper on the couch next to him. "My ad isn't in there. I'm gonna call the paper and see if it was misplaced or what." She unhooked Ishmael and picked up the phone, dialing the number she'd found this morning. "Hello, this is Dana Scully, I'm calling about a lost and found ad I'd called to place this morning." Mulder looked up again to see Scully frowning. "I don't understand, I didn't cancel it. Wait a minute, how was it canceled? E-mail? There must be some mistake..." All of a sudden the dog jumped up. One paw accidentally hitting the hang up button in the phone as it began to lick Scully's face and chin. "Ishy... Ishy get down." She pushed him lightly away. "look what you did. You hung up the phone on me." She shook her head and hit the redial. The dog's paw once again hit the hang up button, this time he barked. "What's wrong with you?" "If I didn't know better Scully, I'd think he didn't want you to call the paper." Mulder grinned at her, until the dog barked again. His eyes narrowed slightly and he studied the dog, then shook his head. "Call in the morning Scully, we still have to wade through this mess." Mulder held a file out to her. "All right. Come on, I'll heat up dinner. Hey Ishy do you like beef lo mein?" She brushed past them and into the kitchen.
Chapter 4. Scully had disappeared into the kitchen and the dog began to toss around a small red ball that had once belonged to Queequeg. He looked stupid playing with it. It was too small for a dog that size. The dog would toss it up in the air and try to catch it before it hit the floor. It missed a few times due to its limp. Mulder tore his eyes off the stupid mutt and began filling out a report by hand. He smiled to himself, at least he didn't have to rifle through a ton of field notes like Scully did. The Microwave was beeping in the kitchen but the dog was unusually silent. Mulder stopped writing and tapped his pen against the file in his lap. The dog was nowhere to be seen. Mulder looked around. That animal made him nervous. Then he spotted it. The retriever had its face burried in his suitcoat. "Hey!" Mulder set the file aside and stood up. "That isn't your chew toy." By the time he reached the dog it had his identification wallet out on the floor. Mulder froze, something was very weird here. The dog flipped it open with its nose, making Mulder frown even more. How the hell did a dog know how to open a wallet? The dog looked at the Badge and ID then up at Mulder. It snorted then picked the wallet up in its mouth and walked forward to stand before the puzzled man. Ishy pushed Mulder's hand with his head, and Mulder took the wallet out of the dog's mouth. "What's going on here?" Mulder muttered under his breath. The dog limped past him and began to resume his game with the ball. It was almost as if a switch had been turned. One minute the animal was exhibiting some strange, almost intelligent behavior the next it was acting like a typical dog. Mulder returned the slightly damp wallet to his suitcoat's inner pocket and returned to the couch. Scully came out of the kitchen balancing two plates of reheated food. Setting one on the coffee table before Mulder she sat next to him with the other before reaching for a file of her own to work on. "That dog didn't have ANY collar?" Mulder looked over at his partner. Scully had just eaten a forkful of lo mein and she shook her head slightly as she sucked in a particularly long noodle through pursed lips. She hadn't even bothered to look up. Mulder forced himself to look away from her. Unpartnerlike thoughts, do NOT think unpartnerlike thoughts he kept repeating in his head. Scully swallowed and started to search through her field notes. "No collar, no scar for a id chip, nothing." The dog had stopped its playing and looked at them, as if understanding that they were talking about it. "It behaves strangely for a dog." Mulder started on his own food. The dog almost grinned then came up in front of them to whimper. "Really? Mulder it's a dog. Right now it sees us eating and it's begging for some of our food. You don't have to see an X-file in EVERYTHING you know." Mulder looked at the dog again. She was right, it was sitting there, making the little whiny noises in the back of its throat. Mulder picked a piece of beef out of his lo main and tossed it to the dog. Ishy caught it easily. Then the dog inched closer. Scully laughed. "Now you are in for it. You fed him, you won't get rid of him until your plate's empty."
Lem got off the plane in D.C. and claimed his baggage and the travel carrier containing Scrappy. Once he had rented a car he let the dog out and loaded his suitcase in the trunk. "Sorry about that ol' boy, but no mutts in coach. Don't feel bad, sixty years ago they wouldn't have left ME in coach either, least not the front half." The dog whuffed and sat up in the passenger seat. On the drive away from the airport Lem began to outline the situation. "First we find a hotel, then we call home and see if Travis has called in any new information." Scrappy looked at him accusingly with his big brown eyes. "Oh, sorry." Lem reached over to flip open a laptop computer between them. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a pen and handed it to the dog. Scrappy took the pen in his mouth then bent to the computer. Lem tried to drive smoothly and ignore the slow clicking sounds at his side. He felt a paw on his leg and looked down briefly at the screen. WHERE JOER FOUJND/ ME GOOD NOSDE. Lem chuckled and Scrappy growled at him. "Sorry, I know typing in a moving car throws you off. Ok Joe was found on Annopolis Road. As soon as I find us a place to stay and check in I'll take you there." He chuckled then, to himself. Ten years ago if someone had told him he'd be driving through DC with a superdog and a laptop he'd most likely have pulled his gun on the unfortunate soothsayer and waited for the men in white coats. But a lot can happen in ten years. The world was changing. He looked briefly at his companion. And it was changing for the better. He'd once told his friend Walt that man was achieving godhood, and that he deserved to get there, if he could create something like a dog with human intelligence. But he had grown to learn over the years that man was not a kind and benevolent god to his creation. We created life... and then try to deny it freedom. He'd helped assure that that didn't happen once. He'd try to do so again. He had to try to keep the government from getting their hands on any of Einstien's get. If he failed... Lem felt his hands become damp on the steering wheel, and the fine hairs on his nape stand to attention. If he failed it would be slavery for another race. Or extermination. Lem shook his head slightly. No way, no way was he gonna stand by and let that happen. He just prayed that Buster was alive and safe...
They had been working for hours. Mulder took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "The words are starting to swim. I think it's time to quit." He closed the file and put it on a stack of 'done' work. Scully sighed and closed her own as well. "It's half past midnight, Mulder." She stiffled a yawn, trying to hide it behind her hand. "We don't have much more to go. Why don't you stay the night, we can finish in the morning and have the rest of the weekend free. Once this stuff is finished I don't even want to THINK about work until Monday morning." "Ooo, you gonna wake me or nudge me?" He gave her his best leer. She raised an eyebrow in the Scully/Spock maneuver. "The couch Mulder. You get the couch." Tempting as the offer was he wasn't certain he could stand having that damn dog watching him all night. It had been curled up looking at them as they worked. Mulder couldn't shake the feeling that he was being evaluated. "That's ok. I'd rather go home where I can shower and change. I'll be over in the morning though." Scully watched him leave and set about cleaning up the small mess they had made, including depositing the sandwich bag of sunflower seed shells into the garbage. Ishy followed her, watching her check the locks on the doors and windows. He followed her into her bedroom and lay down so that he was between the bed and the door. Scully changed for bed and shook her head at the dog. "If I trip over you in the case of a late night bathroom run you are going to be one sorry dog." The dog whuffed quietly and lay its head on its paws.
Once home Mulder couldn't sleep. Now that in and of itself was not terribly unusual. But this time slumber was not elusive due to fear or soul searching, being caught up in his work or any other identifiable reason. It took Mulder the better part of an hour to figure out it was the dog Scully had taken in that was bothering him. He had felt no threat from the animal, no animosity. There was no intuitive sense that the animal was in any way harmful. But it disquieted him none the less. "God can you sink any lower than to feel jealous of a dog?" he mumbled into the shadows that danced to the patterns of light coming from his TV set. Was that it? What did he have to feel jealous about? WHY would he feel jealous? Don't go there. His conscious mind warned him. No, it wasn't quite jealousy. It was the strange intelligence in the animal's eyes. The uncanny way it sought out his badge and examined it before returning it. It's incredible attention span, and the way it watched them all night. It was... spooky. Mulder smiled to himself at that thought. Yeah, right. Scully has a point. I'm looking for the unusual in everything now, even in a strange dog. Sleep still eluded him. Feeling slightly embarrassed he went to the phone. He punched in a number he knew by heart and got an answering machine.
Cook sat down heavily in the recliner of his apartment. He poured himself a glass of whisky and tried not to think. They'd handed the dog over to the regional head of the NSA, and the entire meeting had left a thick oily taste in his mouth. Maybe it was that they were handing over the animal in an underground garage, not even the garage of headquarters. Maybe it was the presence of the others. Not only Director Simms but the three men who shoved the frightened dog into a cage and the two men who watched. They all wore trench coats and suits, and in DC that proclaimed loud as a neon sign they were government. So where were the doctors? If the dog was carrying some sort of biologically engineered disease shouldn't there be at least one doctor present to assess it's health? The two watchers made his skin crawl. One was a tall black man the other was a watery old chimney. Neither had said a word. As soon as the dog was caged and loaded into the back of a non-descript van those two got into the back with it. Director Simms had patted them on the back, told them how wonderful it was to see a job well done then dismissed them. They would find new cases on their desks Monday morning. Harold Cook downed his whiskey and closed his eyes. This whole assignment had gone from feeling like shitwork to feeling like a set up of some kind in just a few short days. And Harold Cook did not like being set up. He didn't like it at all.
Chapter 5. Scully showered quickly and dressed casually in white jeans and a baggy white tee shirt. She knew Mulder would be showing up any time now. She set the coffee pot to brewing and cut a fresh grapefruit in half for her breakfast. Setting both aside she got the leash and hooked Ishmael up. "Come on, walk time." She checked him as she clipped on the leash. The dog's limp was less pronounced this morning and his side was healing well. She wandered slowly down the street, letting the dog take care of business. He sniffed at the trail of a hundred dogs before him, but made sure he marked the corner of the stairs on the outside of her apartment. In less then ten minutes they were back and Scully was leafing through the morning paper. Ishmael went into the living room. His eyes skimming the tapes and CDs on the shelf next to the stereo. His tail wagged jauntily as his nose fell on an album title he was familiar with. Joe loved classic rock. Mulder knocked at 8:30. When she opened the door he grinned. "Avon lady." "Do you drive a pink car too?" Scully let him in. He passed her, following the scent of fresh coffee he called over his shoulder. "Scully, that's the Mary Kay girls, you ought to know better." "And how did you get so up to date on door to door cosmetics sales?" She moved past him to sit at the table as he poured himself a cup of rejuvenation. "Now Scully, if I told you I'd have to kill you." He opened one of the overhead cupboards and brought out a box of cereal before fetching himself a bowl and spoon. "Help yourself, Mulder." She smiled as she spooned another wedge of grapefruit out. "Don't mind if I do," he answered, his head buried in her fridge as he sought the milk. "Geez don't you have REAL milk?" He resignedly brought the carton of 1% to the table. "It is real milk. It came from a cow." She turned her attention back to the morning edition. "Yeah, then had every redeeming quality in it removed by some unknown scientific process that most likely involved radiation and a new brand of Purity Control." He poured it over his corn flakes none the less. He took a healthy swallow of coffee and his face went red, and he gasped for breath. He managed to gasp out, "Water." Scully struggled not to laugh as she leapt up to get him a glass of tap water. He snatched it out of her hand and gulped it down. "Careful Mulder, the coffee's hot." The glare he gave her told her he had paid attention to her own scathing looks. "Thanks for the warning. You taking lessons from Micky D's or something. I should sue you for damages, I may never be able to use my tongue again." Scully laughed, "You're talking just fine now." He poured some of the pseudo-milk into his mug, despite the fact that he didn't much care for light coffee and looked up at her with a lazy smile that made her heart rate speed up. "That's not what I meant." Scully almost choked on her grapefruit. Mulder smiled triumphantly at her. "We should be done by noon, I agreed to play in a game at one. You wanna come watch? You can root for the other team." "Who are you playing this time?" "Couple of guys from forensics. Hey maybe you can cheer on Pendrell." She just rolled her eyes. When they moved on to the living room neither noticed Ishmael pull the paper off the table and start looking at it with decidedly undoglike interest.
The phone blared. It was too freaking early in the morning, on a SATURDAY morning, for phone calls. Cook reached out blearily for the phone on his nightstand. His hand found it's target and he pulled the receiver up to his ear. "This better be good," he grumbled into the phone. "That dog you brought in... it was the wrong dog. It was... uninfected and at least two years younger then the retriever we are after. The hunt is still on. I want both you and Webb in my office in one hour." Simms hung up before any protest could be uttered. Damn! Cook slid out of bed and headed for the shower. He had thought he'd washed the last of Webb's stink off of himself yesterday.
Mulder signed his name to the last document with a bit of a flourish. Done, fineto, finished, FREE. He closed the file and sat back silently watching Scully work. She was on her last file as well. He smiled to himself, he had won their unspoken race. She sat curled in her chair, her glasses glinting in the sunlight coming in through the window. That same sunlight burnished her hair into a brilliant copper. She looked completely absorbed in the report. The pen in her hand danced over the paper lightly. She looked like a college student cramming for a final. Or a Raphaelite painting. She was undeniable beautiful sitting there, and Mulder shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. He tried to work some decent basketball plays in his head as a distraction. He didn't notice Ishmael next to the stereo, or the dog pushing the play button with his nose. But the quiet air of the apartment was shattered by the fierce rift of an electric guitar the likes of which only Jimmy Hendrix could produce. Both agents jumped at the sudden sound. Luckily the stereo was not on very loud. But both of them wore a stupid stunned expression on their faces. //She's a sweet little heartbreaker. She's a sweet little love maker.// Scully was out of her chair like a shot making a mad dive for the stereo. // Oooo, Foxy Lady.// Scully turned off the power before hitting the stop button. "What the hell was that?" Mulder was on the verge of laughter. "Must have been a power surge or something." Scully stood with her hands on her hips frowning at the unit in question. "But I don't remember the last time I had that tape in." Ishmael sat next to Mulder and put his big squarish head on his leg. Mulder scratched the dog behind the ears without thinking. If dogs could smile... Scully shrugged. "Well we are almost done. How about I spring for lunch and then Ishy and I can choose what team we want to see loose." "Sounds good to me. What do you think fur face?" Mulder moved his leg under the dog's chin. The retriever barked once, his tail wagging. Scully finished off her last report and hooked the dog to the leash. "You drive." Mulder grinned. "If you are taking the mutt I don't want him shedding all over MY car." They headed out the door, only the dog looking back, at the phone. Scully had forgotten to call the papers this morning.
Scrappy snorted as he came up to a chain link fence. He looked back to see Lem right behind him. "You must have one hell of a nose. This trail must be five days old. You sure you aren't part bloodhound?" The dog shot him a dirty look, but Lem's white smile shone through his dark face. "So where did he go from here?" He looked down at the dog. Scrappy whined low in his throat. "Shit... you lost the scent?" The dog's head dropped and he tucked his tail between his legs in dejection. "Well we got this far. We know Buster lived, and made it away from the crash site. Now we fall back on relying on plain ol' human me. We comb the newspapers. My guess is the SPCA and Vets will be fed the same shit story they were ten years ago, claiming Buster is an escaped lab dog who may be carrying the cure for cancer. But we've got an advantage this time... Buster doesn't have any tattoos. And we can call the same agencies with a bit more detail. After all, WE know he has a half moon shaped pink spot on his nose. I bet THEY don't." Lem tried to cheer his friend "But we won't give up on this track either. Now, I can't think like Buster, YOU can. You are hurt, alone and afraid... where would YOU go?" Scrappy looked around carefully, and slowly began walking west.
Chapter 6. The drive to the Mall was spent in companionable silence. Ishy poked his head out the car window and had his ears flapping in the breeze. Once they had parked Scully led them to a vendor not far from their favorite bench. She merely raised an eyebrow when Mulder ordered three hotdogs. They sat to eat and watch tourists. Scully saw Mulder feed the dog one of the hot dogs and bit her tongue against yelling at him. Hot dogs were the WORST things to feed a dog, but by feeding him Mulder was showing more then acceptance. He was showing a certain camaraderie. He'd fed Ishy last night too. Scully shook her head, she was starting to think as if she planned on keeping the dog. After an hour long walk, spent mostly in silence they made their way to the basketball court where the game was going to be played. Four people were already there, dressed like Mulder in baggy shorts and muscle shirts. Usually no one would approach Mulder and Scully for a while, but Ishy seemed to bridge the invisible line between them and the other agents. Agent Stiles approached first, crouching to pet and stroke the dog. "I didn't know you had a dog Dana." He peered at the animal's side. "He's a beautiful animal. What happened to him?" "I didn't see. My guess is a hit and run." Scully held herself stiffly but managed to be polite. "What's his name?" Agent Heckman asked as he to bent to fondle the dog, who appeared to glory in the attention. "Ishmael." Scully looked sideways at Mulder. What was it with dogs, children and pregnant women that made people think public touching much less without permission - was allowed? "Hey Mulder I heard Forensics roped Collins into playing with them. I think they are getting nervous." Stiles smirked. Collins was six foot five. "Yeah well maybe we should be nervous. Collins is good." Mulder shrugged. By then more people were showing for the game. Mulder capped the Gatorade he'd bought earlier, handing it to Scully to hold for later before moving onto the court. Scully stayed put, and was soon joined by about two dozen wives, girlfriends and agents who just wanted to watch and pull for their favorite group. Ishy drew quite a bit of attention. He only seemed to get annoyed by it when people obstructed his view of the game though. Dana almost laughed. You would almost think the dog was actually paying attention.
Cook scowled as he finished the last call. They had six possibles in shelters in DC and the surrounding areas. Simms had dispatched men to check out each of them. Webb sat across from him and was once again looking over the classifieds. No leads at all from any of the Veterinary clinics. Trying to find one dog in such a populated area was proving next to impossible. Webb was chewing on his mustache again as he tossed one paper into the garbage and reached for another. Cook shook his head. He really didn't know why he was on this case. His area of expertise was finding PEOPLE who didn't want to be found. A dog just wasn't worth the effort. And it certainly wouldn't be smart enough to change it's identity, no matter what Webb said. "We got any pictures of the dog from Doddard's place yet? We could spread lost dog posters if we had a single picture." Cook asked as he removed his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Nope. None." Webb was pissed too. He wasn't about to tell Webb that someone had been through the Vet's house and office before the search unit and cleaned out all the photo albums and left some suspiciously empty spots on the wall and mantle. SOMEONE was protecting the dog. Doddard's daughter was being watched. But she hadn't gotten to her father's place until after the sweep team had been through. So who were they up against? The owner of another dog or someone just in on the secret? Whoever it was was smart and knew what they were doing. And he couldn't let Cook know that, thus making his 'partner' even more of a hindrance.
After Scrappy admitted he had completely lost the trail they had returned to the motel to review their options. That had led Lem here. He sat with Lisa Doddard Scrappy was back at their motel. Lem knew Lisa would be watched, and showing up at her doorstep with a retriever would have been plain stupid. Lem knew methods of surveillance all too well. So far the only spoken words between he and Lisa were reminiscences about her father, condolences, plans for the funeral and other such boring details. What was happening on a one subject notebook in front of them was what really counted though. Another conversation entirely. He tried to offer her some reassurances, but they both knew any promises would be empty. Lisa knew all about Buster, he had been her friend as much as he was her father's. She gave Lem a list of all the places she could think of where Buster might go in writing. "So is your Uncle coming in from Cleveland for the services?" Lem scribbled quietly, 'They will have searched Joe's place.' "Yes. He and Aunt Carol should be here by tomorrow." She scribbled beneath his note, 'They didn't get anything. Dad had some friends who knew the truth. They cleaned the place out as soon as they heard about the accident on a police scanner they have.' "Then you won't be alone. Good, that's good Lisa. You need people around you now." His eyes met hers. Those words were full of meaning. 'Who? They could be borrowing trouble.' She nodded then read his note and wrote a reply as she spoke. "Don't worry, I'll be surrounded by family and friends, at least for a little while." 'No names. I wish I could but they value their own privacy Lem. Sorry. Just know that they are careful.' Lem wanted to shout at her, to demand she tell him who else was in this. He hated not knowing what cards he was holding. But he also knew when NOT to push. He nodded. He left Lisa's house with the notebook and a heavy heart. Despite the list of people Buster knew and might trust he didn't have much hope. Buster was too smart to go anywhere predictable.
It was the last four minutes of the game and VC was leading over Forensics by only three points. Dana tried not to cheer as she watched Mulder steal the ball out from under Collins and head up the court with it. Pendrell blocked him and Mulder passed the ball to Heckman who scored an additional two for their side. No sooner was the ball through the hoop then Forensics took control of hit again. It was Danny who made the basket that raised Forensic's score by two points once more. Two minutes to go and only a three point difference. The spectators around Dana and Ishmael were shouting loudly now, urging on their teams at top volume. Ishy jumped up onto the bench next to Dana and began barking, adding his voice to the fray, much to the amusement of all. In the end it was indeed Collins who made the difference. Forensics scored six points in two minutes managing to win over VC. The teams shook hands (although some of the handshakes appeared strained) and broke up. All around Dana money was switching hands as friendly wagers were payed off. She sighed as she pulled a five dollar bill from her pocket and held it up. Agent Jenkins took it with a grin. "No hard feelings Scully, I've seen Collins play before." He smiled without rancor and wandered off. Scully held out the remainder of Mulder's Gatoraid as he approached and he downed it quickly. He mopped his face with his damp shirt. "So who were you rooting for?" He tossed the empty bottle into a trash can. "Shut up Mulder, you cost me five bucks." She started heading back to her car.
She drove home where Mulder retrieved his own car and left to per sue his own weekend activities, whatever they may be. After feeding Ishmael she decided she had put off the inevitable long enough. She picked up the phone and began to dial the papers once again. "Yes I'd like to place an ad..." Ishy was in her face once more. His paw firmly on the hang up button. "Stop it boy." She pushed him lightly away and began to redial. The phone went dead. Scully looked down to see the retriever with the phone cord in his mouth. He had pulled it from the jack in the wall. It took her a moment to realize what he'd done, and with that realization she felt her chest tighten, and her throat close. The dog had been handing up on her attempts to place ads since last night and now this... how far could you push coincidence? The dog puling the cord had not been an accident, it had been quiet deliberate. But how would a dog know the cord worked the phone? Her mind was reeling and she felt dizzy. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Ishy disappeared into the kitchen and brought her the morning paper. Just the front section. He placed it in her lap and pawed at it, whining. "What the hell?" He kept pawing at one place on the paper. A report of the double murder of an Annapolis couple. Scully tossed the paper away. Ishy brought it back and pawed at the same area, the same article. Shaking, she read the slightly smeared words, not wanting to acknowledge why. No clues so far in the double murder. Theft was not the reason. There was a passing mention of the killer possibly using a classified ad about a found dog to gain entry to the house. The dog was not found. "This has to be an aberration." She dropped the paper. "It's not like he can really understand. I've just been hanging around Mulder too much. I'm starting to think like him. Next thing you know I'll suspect him of playing that tape this morning. Ishy padded to the stereo and hit a button with his nose. The tape player opened and he gently withdrew the tape and brought it to her, dropping it in her lap. He's smart, very smart. Well trained. "Are you a show dog? Part of an act?" She wondered aloud. "You can't really understand can you? Let's face it if you understood me you'd bring me the tape case." The dog whuffed and went to the rack of cassettes and cds next to the stereo, picking up the open tape case and bringing it over to her. It was the case for the Hendrix tape. "Um... How about something by Loreena McKennit?" Scully started to laugh. This was impossible, this was insane. Ishy went to the rack and appeared to study the selection there before pawing at a section until some of the cd's moved forward a bit. Then he grasped one case in his teeth and dropped "Mask and Mirror" into her lap. Scully looked at the cd dumbly for a moment then reached for her cell phone instinctively, hitting the first speed dial button.
Chapter 7. "We have a responsibility to stand watch over one another, we are watchers, all of us, watchers, guarding against the darkness. You've taught me that we're all needed, even those who sometimes think we're worthless, plain and dull. If we love, and allow ourselves to be loved... well, a person who loves is the most precious thing in the world, worth all the fortunes that ever were. That's what you taught me, fur face, and because of you I'll never be the same." ~~ Nora Cornell (Hyatt) to Einstein The Dog ~~"WATCHERS" - by Dean R. Koontz. (used without permission) Mulder toweled off from his shower and pulled on a pair of boxers before noticing that the light on his answering machine was blinking. He hit the play as he pulled on a pair of jeans. BEEP."Mulder, call us. There is something you should know concerning the matter you were inquiring about." Mulder recognized Langly's voice. There were no other messages. He picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory. "Hello, make it good and fast." "Frohike, it's Mulder." Mulder sat down to begin tieing his sneakers. "Mulder? Hold on, I'll get Byers on the second line..." Mulder sighed when he heard the other line being picked up. "Ok guys, what the hell is this about?" "Hey Mulder. You ever heard of Banodyne Laboratories?" Byers sounded excited. Mulder frowned and began playing with his bottom lip. "Ummm... They went under ten years ago. They did recombinant DNA research right?" "Yes, and top secret Defense contracts as well. Any idea WHY they went under ten years ago?" Frohike must have picked up one of the other lines. "Well officially they lacked funds and their research wasn't going anywhere Especially after a lab fire that wiped out a lot of their research projects. Unofficially there are rumors of an escaped experiment or two getting out and killing people." Mulder pulled on a black tee shirt. "Two experiments Mulder both part of something called the Francis Project. So named for St. Francis of Assissi, patron of animals. They were working on genetically building the perfect spies and the perfect killing machine." Byers was almost gloating over the phone line. "So they got out and killed a bunch of people. They tried to sweep it under the rug. I think I have a file on it at the office somewhere. The NSA claimed the killings were done by a serial killer. But killers like that don't just suddenly stop." Mulder rubbed his eyes. Same old story. Same old song and dance. "So what did this have to do with..." "We have sources that tell us that they managed to recover the body of one of the experiments. A creature called The Outsider. Nasty piece of work that. They figure part of it's genetic building blocks was baboon and canine. It was what ripped all those people apart. It was killed by a lucky civilian when it attacked him and his wife in their home. The whole story gets confusing there. But the second experiment was never recovered. The guy who killed the thing, a Samuel Hyatt, reported the second experiment dead as well. This one was simply referred to as The Dog. It appears this killing machine was tracking the Dog across country for the sole purpose of killing it. The Hyatt's had adopted the Dog, most likely totally ignorant of what they had. But they got attached enough that after this Outsider thing killed their pet they refused to hand over the body, and threatened to let the public know what really happened if they were pressed on the issue." "This story has a point I hope." Mulder strapped on his watch. Frohike laughed from his extension. "Mulder there is pretty strong evidence that the Hyatts lied. That they knew what they had and were protecting it. Their house was set up like a fortress, as if expecting this Outsider thing to show up for a showdown. The Dog was the spy half of the equation, genetically altered to be smart. HUMAN smart, yet still look like a dog. Now it's been ten years, and most of the Hyatt's friends have all got themselves golden retrievers, the breed of The Dog. Our sources tell us it's suspected that not only did The Dog live, but that his intelligence breeds true. One of the Hyatt's friends was a Veterinarian, and through him they met another vet named Joseph Doddard." Frohike paused."Joe Doddard's car was run off the road right outside of Annapolis. Hit and run. Killed him instantly. But Doddard had a dog." "A retriever?" Mulder felt the hairs along the back of his neck rise. "Yes. Buster was it's name. It was in the car with him when he left his daughter's the night he died, but there was no sign of it at the scene of the accident. We have it on good authority some idiot wants to rebuild the Francis project and has decided to see if The Dog had really died. If not they want one of it's offspring to use as their experimental base." Byers had joined the conversation and didn't sound happy. "I know your partner would never believe this Mulder, but if our inside information is right this Dog and its descendants are just as intelligent as any human. If they exist they are staying well hidden. Think about it. A race of Dogs possessing intelligence equal to ours, possibly complex emotions and a sense of morality if the rumors we've heard are true." Mulder grinned. This whole thing was almost beyond HIS ability to believe. Yet he knew experiments in recombinant DNA *were* going on... it *was* possible, if- "So you think this dog Scully picked up, the one that was acting so strangely might be a descendant of the original Dog." Before he had a chance to think about the ramifications his call waiting beeped on his ear. "Look, I have another call. I'll look into this. But quickly, just what can these dogs do?" "Think, reason, possibly even read. The possibilities are endless." Frohike supplied. "All right. Thanks guys." Mulder clicked the line over. "Mulder." "Mulder?" It was Scully and she sounded... odd. There was a tremor to her voice that had him on his feet in a flash. "Can you come over here?" "Scully what's wrong?" He grabbed his gun and wallet as he spoke. "Just... just get over here. I just had something very strange happen." "Is it the dog? Did the dog do something?" He gripped the receiver tightly. "Y..yes... how did you know?" "Scully, calm down and stay put. I don't think Ishmael is quite what he appears to be. I don't think he's dangerous. As a matter of fact I think he may be in some danger himself. Just lock the front door and don't let anyone in but me, ok?"
"You know this would be a lot easier if the Twighlight Bark was real." Lem rubbed his eyes and double checked the map on the bed. Scrappy sneezed and turned to his laptop. I AIN'T NO STINKIN' DALMATIAN. Lem smiled. "Yeah, Dalmatians are cuter and take less coat care." HAR, HAR. YOU'RE A REGULAR EDDIE MURPHY. Lem traced the course Buster's scent had led them yesterday. "Ok he was wounded, and alone. We tried here with no luck, that leaves this way and this way." HE WASN'T BOUND BY ROADS. BEST BET IS HE USED BACK Johnson had to agree. It made sense. It was what HE would do. "Right. so we scope the area from here looking for a path a dog could take." TIRED. RUB MY BELLY. The man laughed as Scrappy rolled over to offer it's stomach in a typical doggy maneuver. It was so easy to forget, no matter how special, how clever, how smart Scrappy was still, at heart, a dog. He liked to be stroked and petted, to roll in the grass, to take walks just to trace all the interesting smells, and to stick his head out a car window. Giving in to a brief moment where it was just him and his canine friend, Lem rubbed and scratched Scrappy's belly.
Each of the dogs taken in from the pound had tested negative for signs of 'contamination'. "So what if the dog wasn't infected after all? We were told it was only a possibility." Cook hung up the phone after receiving that bit of joyous news. "Then we won't find anything. But we have to be sure." Webb finished a lost dog poster, sans picture he'd been making up on the computer and began to print.
Scully had been staring at the dog since she called Mulder. He's stared back for a while before yawning expressively and curling up to try to nap. Evidently feeling secure she wasn't going to call the paper in this life time. She cleared the chair in record speed at the knock at her door. Ishy woke, shook himself out and appeared to wait patiently. "Open up Scully, it's me." Mulder's voice came through the wood even as she looked through the peep hole. She unlocked the door and let him inside. "Mulder... Ishmael just..." He held up a hand to silence her for a moment. There was a curious mix of excitement and fear in Scully's eyes. Mulder looked into the room at the dog. "Buster, come here please." Mulder did not gesture or move. The dog's ears perked up and he walked over then jumped up, balancing his front paws on Mulder's chest before beginning to lick his face affectionately. "Mulder, what the hell is going on?" Scully was actually taking this all very well, considering she had yet to hear the full story. "Scully, meet Buster. As I guessed from your call you have discovered that this pooch is no ordinary dog." Mulder pushed the Dog down and headed for the living room, leaving Scully no choice but to follow. Mulder was once again seated on the couch. Buster sat in front of him, giving the man his undivided attention. "Ok until I figure out something better one bark means 'yes' two barks mean 'no'. Understand?" He spoke to the dog. A single bark. "Have you finally flipped? Have I?" Scully sat on her overstuffed chair heavily. The dog barked twice. "Is your name Queequeg?" Mulder asked, to convince Dana beyond a doubt what was actually happening in her own living room. Two barks. "Is your name Buster?" One bark. "Did my team loose the basketball game this afternoon?" One bark as Buster cocked his head to the side and almost grinned. "Can ONE of you tell me what is happening here?" Scully was getting aggravated that the only one seemingly clueless here was her. She was more annoyed when Buster barked once to answer her. "Scully what do you know about recombinant DNA?" Mulder turned his attention from the wonder before him. He was feeling giddy. It was incredible, absolutely incredible.
Chapter 8. Dana Scully listened to her partner's recital of the Francis Project in a daze. The scientific, analytical part of her wanted to try to argue. This kind of genetic manipulation was simply not possible ten years ago, shouldn't be possible now. However it was possible now. Someone had tampered with her own genetic code, branching it not that long ago, and it had nearly killed her. And it had to have been possible ten years ago because Ish... Buster was sitting here now. Looking at her with big brown eyes full of apprehension. "So basically what you are saying is that people are willing to kill to get their hands on this dog. That they've killed already." Scully met Mulder's gaze. Buster nosed the paper, then picked it up in his mouth and lay it on Mulder's lap, once again pawing the article. Mulder read it quickly. "My God, Scully, they were combing the lost and found ads, if your ad had gone through..." "How did you do that? You did do it didn't you? Canceled the ads." Scully looked at the dog. She felt so strange talking to an animal, and yet, she fully expected understanding after the demonstration she'd had earlier there was no doubt. Buster barked once then padded across the room to her desk. Using his nose he moved the chair out from under it then leapt up to the padded seat. His nose once again came into play to turn on the power bar of the computer. He sat patiently while it booted up. Scully's face was a mask of shock, Mulder's was lit up like a kid at Christmas. "You are a HACKER?" Mulder asked incredulous. Buster pulled a pen from the pen-holder and began to type using his mouth. Scully's password was hidden by a asterisk appearing for each letter typed. The dog used a paw to manipulate the mouse and his nose to click the e-mail icon. YOU NAMED ME ISHMAEL. THE DOG YOU HAD BEFORE WAS Both agents watched, rapt, as each letter was typed out by the pen in Buster's mouth. Then Scully actually blushed. Mulder looked at her quickly, to see if she was sharing this intense sense of wonder, and he saw that. She was blushing. Scully never blushed. "I better change my damn password if a dog can figure it out," she muttered under her breath. "Scully, don't you get it... we are talking to a dog. He understands us, and can communicate completely. He can read, he can type. All my life I've wanted to communicate with other intelligent life." Mulder knelt next to the chair and looked at Buster in a way that bordered on adoration. "This isn't want I had expected, not what I was looking for... but... this *IS* communication with non-human sentient life." The dog turned once more to the computer. IS HE ALWAYS LIKE THIS. BECAUSE, I HAVE TO TELL YOU, Scully laughed. She couldn't help it. She started laughing and she doubled over from the force of it. Tears streamed down her eyes. Fox Mulder had just been put in his place... by a DOG. There was a dog typing on her computer. A dog making wise-ass remarks via her computer. A dog she'd picked up in her back alley was making jokes on her computer. Mulder had smiled too, at the joke. He looked at Scully and began to chuckle a bit. When she kept laughing he began to get a little worried. "Scully?" She looked at him and managed to pull herself together, wiping the moisture from her eyes and ignoring that her face hurt from laughing so much she shook her head. "I'm fine Mulder. It's just... strange. But I'm fine." She saw the concern in his eyes. "Really." She insisted. It was Scully who focused them back on Buster. "Could you identify the people who ran your master off the road?" JOE NOT MASTER. FRIEnd. WOULD YOU ACCEPT A MASTER. "But you think they are still after you." It wasn't a question. She reached out to stroke the soft fur around Buster's neck. YES. NOT STOP TILL THEY HAVE ME OR ONE OF THE FAMILY. The message took five minutes for him to slowly type out. But what it expressed shook both agents. Not only were these animals, and indeed Buster had just admitted there were more, not only were they smart, they were sentient. They were self aware individuals. They understood the intrinsic principles of right and wrong. Would you accept master? Would they become slaves, or would they fight for their freedom, their.... rights? Mulder's eyes met hers over the dog's back. There was a suspicious sheen to their hazel depths. "Scully, we can't let them catch him. We have to keep him safe." Scully couldn't say anything. She stroked Buster's fur, looking at the dog for a long while before meeting Mulder's eyes once more. She nodded solemnly. "So where do we start?" SECRET. IN TEN YEARS WE WILL BE TOO MANY, Mulder nodded. His first thoughts HAD been to take this to the press, blow the lid off the whole mess. But Buster had a point. How many people would feel threatened by what Buster represented. Mankind was definitely no longer intellectually superior to everything around it now. It had an equal. An indisputable equal. True, man had MADE this equal, or at least the first, but there were still those who would see this as an intrusion on human sovereignty. An abomination to be wiped out. Mulder licked his lips."Do you know of anyone else who knows about you? Friends to others of your kind?" YES. I KNOW MANY. BUT NOT GOOD. CANT RISK THEM "But could you give us a name or two? They might have some ideas if we contacted them. They may be more used to dealing with this." Mulder insisted. Five more sentences were added to the computer screen. SAM-TRAVIS HYATT AND THE FIRST ONE, GREAT GRANDSIRE
Lem followed on Scrappy's heels. The dog may have lost the scent but he was trying to see things from Buster's point of view. He's gone down alleys, over and behind dumpster and through people's yards all afternoon. Lem was getting tired. He was fifty-five years old. "I'm gettin to old for this shit." Was muttered more then once as he tried to squeeze through an area only a dog, or a crazy black man with a too strong a sense of morality and conscience would go. Earlier had called all the shelters and the pound, every vet in the phone book giving Buster's description, including the half moon pink mark on his nose, a detail Lem was certain was missing from the NSA circulations. He'd found it ironic. Twenty five years, he served and believed in the NSA. Believed in what he was doing unquestioningly. He had always held public safety at heart, even when he had thought their ignorance was better as in his last case with them. Each new death hung on his soul. There were still good men in the agency, but someone was pulling the strings now. Someone using his former comrades and friends as puppets. And for the first time Lemual Johnson was working AGAINST them. He was using what he knew of the way the NSA operated to out think them. He pondered life's ironies once more when Scrappy scuttled under a broken fence. It was getting dark, and Lem's night vision was not what it used to be. "Enough." He panted slightly. "Enough Scraps. I can't see anymore. We'll pick up here in the morning." Scrappy poked his squarish head back out the hole he'd disappeared into seconds before, letting out a soft whuff. "Look at me, I'm muddy, my clothes are torn from squeezing through chain fence holes and crawling through a drainage tunnel. I look like a street person. You are not too pretty yourself." He eyed the muddy dog. "We go back, get baths and start fresh in the morning. It's been six days, and they are still looking for him. They haven't caught him so at this point I'll accept no news is good news." Scrappy came back into the alley and snorted, but wagged his tail deliberately. A wag meant yes. Tired, dirty and feeling slightly defeated they left the alley behind Dana Scully's apartment to return to the hotel.
Chapter 9. "So do you have some sort of brilliant plan?" Scully's expression dared him to come up with something. Mulder smiled. "I have resources that can deliver an untraceable e-mail to this Travis Hyatt." Now she rolled her eyes. "Mulder if you give Frohike my address I'll shoot you again." "Do you seriously think he doesn't know where you live?" Buster kept looking from one to the other, trying to make sense of this conversation. "Good point. Ok what can it hurt at this point. I suppose you stay with me until this is all over." She scratched Buster behind the ears. COULD BE LONG WAIT. Scully nodded. "I know. But you have been one of my better house guests and you don't snore." Buster licked her chin. Mulder used his own phone to put in a call to the Gunmen. Hidden inside the boards and wires of the desktop computer an anachronistic transmitter sent along a fine tuned radio signal.
It was only Minutes before a severely bored surveillance team reported in what they hoped was information to advance them out of their current assignment. In Ten minutes another phone rang. "Yes." The man who answered the unlisted number stood surrounded by a miasma of smoke. He reached out to bring a glass of scotch to his mouth as he listened to the report. "I want a retrieval unit sent there immediately. Are you certain they are aware of what they are dealing with?" He nodded. There were many reasons he did not want the Mulder boy killed. The risk of his obsession becoming a crusade, a lingering affection for someone long since lost to him, his usefulness in the game and even a small sense of respect for his perseverance. The woman too was a valuable tool, if only for the sway she held with Mulder. And he half expected that at this point any unfortunate accidents involving her would make Mulder an even greater threat then he was, despite his usefulness. "If at all possible take them alive. We can edit their recollection of events. It has been done before. But procuring the dog must remain our top priority." He set the phone back down casually. After all one must maintain one's priorities. In the end the dog, and the future it represented was much more valuable then his other considerations. A four man 'retrieval' unit was dispatched immediately.
Mulder nodded into the receiver, the slight bobbing movement of his head was a familiar sight and Dana was forcibly reminded of those tacky loose headed plastic dogs people used to stick in the back window of their cars. She repressed a smile at the thought. "Ok are you writing this down?" Mulder looked at Buster. "You have this guy's e-mail address by any chance?" DELTAF2COLLINS.COM "Is the two supposed to be an at?" YES. THERE ARE TIMES I WOULD LIKE THUMBS. Dana smiled at the message. Of course, Buster couldn't manipulate the shift keys. "Yeah but then you'd look kind of silly," she told him. "Delta f at collins dot com. Ok send this message. Buster is safe. He is still hunted. Need instructions on how we should proceed. Is there somewhere we can take him?" Mulder covered the mouthpiece with his hand, looking at the dog. "Is there some message we can send that will convince this guy we are friends? I mean this could be a set up, and he'd be a fool not to assume it was." The dog turned to the keyboard STEAMBOAT WILLIE was carefully typed out. Mulder spoke into the phone again. "Add to the end of the message the words Steamboat Willie." Mulder smiled. "This guy a Mickey Mouse fan?" He listened as Langly read the message back and hung up. "So... now all we do is wait." Mulder Looked out Scully's window, suddenly filled with nervous energy. He was quite capable of waiting. It was part and parcel with his job. But he never did LIKE it. Mulder frowned. "Scully did you order pizza?" Buster was off the chair and looking out the window in a second flat. He whined in the back of his throat. Running back to the computer the dog hit the escape key then affirmed not saving the screen. His actions brought Mulder to instant alert. He pulled his gun from the clip at his side. "I think this means we have company." Scully grabbed her gun and ID as well, then ran for her purse and, almost as an afterthought she grabbed her laptop. "Let's go, the back alley." Mulder nodded and they opened the door to see the 'pizza delivery man' just coming in the front of the building. Mulder slammed the door closed and set the lock. "Shit." "Bedroom window." She was already headed for the back room when Mulder saw the first silent explosion next to the door lock. Scully had the window open and had leaped out already. He saw Buster's tail clear the frame when a loud "Freeze!" was shouted behind him. He had no time to turn and fire, and no time to look where he was going. The only thing he could do was launch himself through the window and hope Scully and the dog were clear. He hit the ground hard on his side. A shooting pain took over his arm and he'd nearly been blinded when his cheek connected with grass covered earth. He looked up to see a dark shape filling the window he'd just come out of when his vision was suddenly filled with red-gold fur. Buster was placing himself between Mulder and the window. "Not the dog! Don't hit the dog!" Came from inside the apartment. A loud crack filled the air and Mulder rolled, completing the move to regain his feet, knowing he hadn't been hit he looked to see if Buster had. The dog looked up and Mulder sought cover, only then seeing Scully aiming at the window from the side, providing cover fire. It had been her gun he'd heard. Realization took no more then a second and he quickly scrambled to her side. Buster followed. The men were no longer in the window. Mulder, Scully and Buster ran to Mulder's car, which was closest. They had just closed the doors when four men poured out of Scully's building. Mulder floored the gas, peeling out and narrowly missing another car. Scully looked behind them to see the men running for a pizza van. "They're going to follow us." "Of course they are going to follow us." Mulder grumbled. Heading for I-50. He handed Scully his phone with one hand, while trying to watch the road as his car moved into the regular traffic patterns. "Hit redial. Tell them what's going on and see if they can help out." Scully bit back demanding how THEY were going to help. Who else could they call? Skinner? If he DID believe them could he actually run interference on this one? Possible, but not likely on such short notice.
Twenty minutes later Mulder pulled into a 24 hour quickmart. Thanks to some specialty drivers training and beltway traffic they had managed to loose their pursuers, but not for long. The car was most likely tracked somehow. Frohike got out of the driver's side of a old, battered green van. He smiled at them as they hurriedly exited Mulder's car. "Please, take care of her. She's a special lady." He looked at Scully. "Stow it Frohike. She saved my ass back there." Mulder grumbled grabbing the keys from the smaller, older man. "Oh, the lovely agent Scully as well, but I was referring to my van. And I expect a full tank when it gets returned." He called out as Scully held the door for Buster to climb in. Frohike looked at Buster and seemed to nod. The dog looked out the window at the man and barked once. "Thanks. We owe you one." Mulder started the van and began to pull out as Frohike called after them. "One of these days we'll collect." Then the small, bespectacled man crossed into the quickmart to peruse the magazine racks. The was a new edition of Hustler due out today anyway. It was two minutes before the pizza truck and a nondescript blue ford pulled in and four people got out to cautiously examine Mulder's abandoned car. Frohike smiled broadly at the obvious rage and frustration of the pursuers as someone punched at the hood of Mulder's car.
When they had been driving for a half hour with no sign of their tail Mulder and Scully began to relax. Mulder flexed the fingers of his right arm. Nothing broken, but he was sure the entire arm was bruised, as well as his hip. If the dull throbbing of his face was any indication, his cheek was as well. It was when they had begun to relax that Dana noticed the note taped to the glove compartment. "Look at this, it's addressed to you." She pulled the envelope away. "So read it. I doubt the guys are writing me love letters." He smiled when Buster shoved his head between the bucket seats to try and read over Scully's shoulder. "It says message delivered. And since we doubt you kept sufficient emergency cash for spur of the moment flight, open the glove compartment. Consider it a loan." Scully opened the small door in the dash and grinned, pulling out a roll of bills. She removed the rubber band and gasped. "Mulder there is three thousand dollars here. Do I even WANT to know how they have this kind of money at hand?" "Probably not. Scully they are prepared to cut loose and head for a new office at a moment's notice. They think THEY keep tabs on them. Who knows, the guys could be right. I think that's part of their own 'head for the hills' fund." He kept his eyes glued to the road. He hadn't expected that. The guys had pulled through for him better then he'd imagined. "You realize your apartment had to have been bugged." Scully placed the cash in the envelope and shoved it into her purse as she nodded. "Well this van is guaranteed clean. So we don't have to worry about that." "But Mulder, where are we going? Do you have any idea?" He nodded. "I know a place, someplace that can't be linked to either of us." "Where?" "A friend of mine from Oxford has a ski shalet in Vermont. It's off season and he's currently in Greece. But I know where he keeps a key."
Chapter 10. Mulder had been taking back roads for the past half hour. He finally pulled over at a gas station mini mart and stopped the van. "What's going on?" Scully sat up a bit straighter. "Where are we?" "West Virginia. We are a good forty miles out of our way. Call Skinner. His phone is most likely bugged, and they might track my cell phone. So use that pay phone. Tell him what you want." He shrugged with one shoulder only. "Meanwhile I'm going to get some aspirin and an iced tea. And YOU are going to drive out of here." He opened the drivers side door without wincing and congratulated himself. His bruised side was out of her view for now. But he wasn't going to be able to keep driving with his arm, hip and face throbbing like they were. Buster whined softly. "Ok, I'll bring out some water and cups how's that, and some beef jerky." He looked back at the dog and heard Scully's sudden intake of breath. "That bad huh?" She glared at him, "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" "I'll live. Besides this is nothing compared to how my hip and shoulder feel right now." He offered her a slight smile. "We have to be out of here in less then three minutes from when you hang up, so don't call till I come out. And you! Lay low fur face. Don't let anyone see you." Buster barked once and moved to the back of the van. Mulder was limping slightly when he entered the small convenience store. He picked up several Snapple iced teas, a gallon of spring water, a pack of large plastic cups, and some styrofoam disposable bowls before grabbing two bottles of aspirin and a handful of beef jerky. Adding a bag of David's sunflower seeds and another of granola mix he watched the cashier ring it up. He was very conscious of the store security camera, and deliberately tried to keep his face away from it, except for two times he made sure he was seen. Hopefully it would look accidental. This is where he WANTED them to focus. To the west of where they were headed, not the opposite direction, THAT was too obvious. "I hope the other guy looks worse." The clerk grinned as he handed Mulder his change and the purchases in a bag. "Yeah well, she LOOKED eighteen." The kid at the counter chuckled as Mulder left. Scully saw him return and dropped her quarters into the phone. How the hell was she going to explain this one? We are on the run with Super Dog?
Mulder first downed three aspirin with half a bottle of tea, then tore open the bowls and poured some water into one. "Service with a smile." He winced as he had to lean on the wrong hip to place it on the floor in the back of the van. Buster started lapping the water at once and Mulder took a good look at the back of the vehicle. There was a made up twin mattress back there, and a shelf bolted to the interior holding some electronic equipment. A camera, one he recognized as being one of Frohike's older, less sophisticated models, hung from a hook. There had most likely been more in there, but the guys had cleaned out anything they would need. Scully got in the driver's seat and adjusted it forward several notches before starting the engine. "So what did you say?" He offered her a second tea and the bag of granola. "That we had located a witness to a murder. The victim was tied to illegal government testing of recombinant DNA. An attempt was made on our lives, and we were not about to return till the witness was safe." She took the tea and downed half her own before handing it back and starting the engine. "All that and not a single lie?" Mulder was impressed. "I don't lie Mulder. Now where?" She pulled away from the small store. "Now we go twenty more miles in this direction and start looking for a mall. We didn't exactly pack for the occasion. We pick up some essentials and clothes quick, make sure a few cameras pick us up and get out as fast as humanly possible."
"Seems we have a break." Webb slapped two pictures down in front of Cook. "These two have the dog. They know he has been exposed, may even know it's a biological weapon. They must have seen dollar signs, because instead of turning him in they took off." Cook picked up the dossiers attached the enlarged service style photos of a man and a woman. "Christ Webb, their Feds. You are telling me a pair of Feds are going to try to sell government secrets?" Frank shrugged. "They might know some buyers. The guy isn't exactly stable, and his record leaves a lot to be desired. Look at it this way, your job just got easier. You said you knew how to track PEOPLE. You're the best at it. So... Track." Cook glared. He was the best, but Frank was making his guts roil. All sorts of internal alarms were going off. But what could he do? Simms had authorized it. Simms was the regional head. He knew what he was doing. Cook sighed and set to work at his computer. First he needed the bank records of both agents, and any plastic they might have. He doubted they'd be stupid enough to use anything traceable though. No matter how wrong his gut told him this case was, his heart sang. THIS was his element. He managed to find 98% of anyone he attempted to track. Sure it might take a few months, the last case he had closed had taken three years But his success rate was still nothing to mess with.
Lem toweled Scrappy dry and was about to clean the dog hair from the tub when the phone rang. He answered it on the third ring. "Johnson." He smiled. "Good to hear from you son. How's Nora and the kids?" He saw Scrappy cock his head at him. "And the eldest?" The tone of inquiry could easily mean his friends eldest child, nine years old now. However, he was referring to the eleven year old member of the family. "He says Hi Scrappy." Lem smiled at the dog who nodded and went in search of the bowl of dry food that had been left out for him to munch. "Are you sure? Travis, it could be a trick." He paused. "I see. Did you reply?" Lem sat down on the edge of the motel bed. "Shit. Yes, I'll watch my back. Are you sure you haven't been compromised? Maybe you should change your account... All right, all right. You always did know what you were doing. And thanks. I'm gonna need it." Lem hung up the phone. "Travis got an e-mail from an anonymous sender. It appears genuine. Buster was safe and had found some allies. But when Travis tried to get back to this sender he was informed by whatever people acted as a medium that Buster and his friends were in trouble and not likely to be found anytime soon. The situation is hot." Scrappy lay his head on Lem's leg, whining softly. "It'll be ok. We have to comb the papers looking for anything unusual in our search area." Lem patted the dog's head as much to reassure himself as his friend.
Scully had managed to finish first. She managed to force a smile when Mulder tossed a load of bags into the back of the van. "I don't want to see our credit card bills at the end of the month." She tried to judge how badly Mulder was hurt by the stiffness of his walk. The aspirin appeared to have worked, and if it were really threatening he would tell her she was certain. She had the sneaking suspicion he was trying to tough it out. Be the 'big macho man'. It irritated her. What irked her more was knowing there really wasn't much time to get a good look at him, nor could she do anything more then give him the aspirin he was already taking. Her medical bag was back at her apartment. First rest stop after this she was going to check out his shoulder and hip if she had to hold him at gunpoint. "Yeah but better them than our cash supply. Besides I want them to know we're here. From here on out it's cash only." Scully nodded and headed for the nearest highway leading north. "I did spend cash on a dog collar, and some bowls and food for you big guy." Scully smiled into the rear view mirror. "AND some extra on a little plan of mine." Mulder frowned. "What do you plan on doing? Turn him into a schnauzer?" "Close." She reached between their seats and handed Mulder a bag from a drug store. "I plan on changing his breed." Buster had moved forward and looked on curiously as Mulder pulled the boxes out of the bag. The dog Barked once. A Yes. Mulder smiled at what he held in his hands. He had to admit HE never would have thought of it. Five boxes of Ms. Clairol's Midnight Black Cream Color. "Dana Scully beautician of canines, by appointment only." Mulder grinned at her. She smiled back. Buster looked back and forth between the two of them before letting out another single bark and nuzzling Scully's arm gently enough to not throw off her driving.
Safe, they were safe for now. And that was all that mattered. He liked he idea of turning into a black lab. It had never been tried before. It ought to be an interesting procedure at least. Sitting back to munch on another piece of beef jerky Buster contemplated his newfound friends. Good people. Without a doubt. They were risking a lot for him. As much as the First Family had risked for the First Dog. It made him feel all warm inside. He hadn't hesitated to jump between the man and the bad men with guns. It was natural, instinctive, a friend helping a friend. But watching these two humans talk, their body language, the subtle changing of their scents as well as the communication with their eyes, he became convinced that for all the good help they were giving him he would return it. These two humans belonged together, yet they kept acting like litter mates. It was wrong. All wrong. He'd seen the connection between them from the moment the man with the good animal name walked in the door. Yes, Buster decided then and there he would repay their kindness and friendship. He would help them see what was in front of their pathetically short noses.
Chapter 11. The first rest stop was in Pennsylvania. Scully pulled over into a rest station and Mulder sat up a bit straighter. "What's wrong?" "Nothing. Into the back with you. I want to see the damage." Scully's glare left Mulder gave a long suffering sigh and moved, a bit stiffly into the back of the van. "Do you have designs on my virtue? I think I saw you eyeing up this mattress." Mulder eased down into the lumpy bedding. Buster moved right next to his uninjured side and sat to watch the proceedings with interest. "Are you kidding? It's Frohike's. God only knows what alive in there. Let me see." She started to yank his tee shirt off. Mulder yelped as the sudden movement jarred his shoulder. "Jeez Scully, I thought you'd go for a nice slow seduction." "Shut up Mulder." She frowned at what she saw. It was still daylight, and the sun came in through the windows to give her a good view. Impressive, his shoulder was slightly swollen, and a lovely shade of black and blue. "Can you move your fingers?" Mulder flexed his fingers then rotated his wrist before bending his arm. His elbow and the side of his arm were also bruised, but not as deeply as his shoulder. "See nothing broken." He moved his shoulder, with obvious discomfort, but he had full range of motion. She nodded. "We should have gotten some ice packs though. Let's see your leg." "Not until you buy me dinner first." Buster started to wag his tail and both agents got the feeling he was highly amused by the exchange. "Don't YOU start." Scully warned him. The dog had the good sense to lay down and look cowed. But he also appeared to be grinning. "Mulder, I've seen you in your boxers before. Now let me see how bad it is." Mulder reached for his tee shirt and pulled it back on, a simple defensive gesture. "Look, I can move my toes, bend my knee, Nothing's broken. It's more of the same. A bitch of a bruise. Looking at it isn't going to make it any better. I've taken the aspirin. And quite frankly if I take my jeans off I'm not sure I'll get them back on, ok? Let it drop." Mulder petted Buster's shoulder. "Think you can get into the glove compartment and bring out the Pennsylvania road map?" The dog got up and moved to the front of the van. Nudging the glove compartment button he popped the compartment open to reveal a stack of road maps. Most likely one for every state in the union as well as a few for Canada and Mexico. Using his nose he nudged through them until he found the requested paper. He brought it to the humans in back. Mulder took it with a terse "Thanks" before grabbing a pen from the shelf attached to the interior wall. He stopped before tracing their route. Yep, the electronic equipment was a police/fire scanner. "Ok from here you drive to..." He traced their way in pen on the map. They had a lot of road hours ahead of them.
Webb looked over Cook's shoulder at the surveillance videos from a strip mall in West Virginia. The two of them were in a back room of the mall's Menswear store. Cook had managed to trace the two Feds here. They had been using their credit cards here, prolifically. Cook had a complete list of purchased items. Everything, from toiletries to clothing, just the kinds of things expected to be bought by two people on the run with no time to pack. The tape showed a store full of people, it was hard to pick out the target until, briefly his face showed on the camera. It looked like he had been in a fight. And while Webb knew what had happened he let Cook draw his own conclusions. "Ok so why are they headed Northwest? Family? Anyone suspected to be connected with the Dogs?" Cook shook his head, but noted the use of the plural word - dogs. "Neither. This is a diversion." He narrowed his eyes at the video, rewinding the tape again to review Agent Mulder making his purchases at the register. "What do you mean it's a diversion? These receipts show they are doing something entirely expected." Cook snorted in disgust. "Exactly. Look I read the dossiers you gave me. These two are smart, very smart. I think they might have been able to come in here, make their purchases and get out without ever getting a single face shot in the surveillance cameras. But they didn't. It looks like they are avoiding the cameras, but they STILL give us at least a half dozen good looks at them. And they had to know the credit cards would be traced." "So they are leaving a false trail." Webb chewed the ends of his mustache again. "And we are back at square one." Cook watched Webb leave the small back room and frowned. He'd done some checking. Neither of these agents were officially being charged with a crime. More and more alarm bells were going off in his head. Whatever he had gotten involved in he was now certain it wasn't the search for a diseased dog. He'd read the paper this morning. He'd seen about the murdered couple. He had no doubt that Webb had slaughtered two innocent people without the slightest remorse. And he had the sinking suspicion that his superiors knew about it. Who could he tell, without finding himself in a fatal 'accident' as well? He was skating on thin ice and he knew it. He wanted to know exactly what was going on, what he was being used for and why. He knew Webb wasn't about to give him any answers, and he was swiftly loosing faith in Director Simms. This had gotten way out of control in a short period of time. All he could do now was play dumb, pretend he wasn't piecing things together. And since Agents Mulder and Scully were not charged with any crime, and no other agency was looking for them then they were just as likely innocent bystanders as well. He had HAD to point out the credit card usage, and he HAD to point out the misdirection he felt was taking place, if only to give himself credence. Show he was being a good little NSA man and doing his job. But if he could do nothing else he was bound and determined to give those two fugitives time. Time to make whatever move they had planed. And he hoped they had a plan, because he wasn't sure how much time he could buy them...
Scully had been at the wheel for the first six hours. They had stopped at a drive through for dinner and then Mulder taken the wheel. His side still hurt, but he could manage, besides, he'd gotten some sleep while Scully drove, and he knew they wouldn't reach their destination until around three am. It was actually three thirty when he pulled into the driveway of the wooden A frame ski chalet with a wrap around deck. The entire front of the building was covered in windows. He'd been here six times over the years, usually to enjoy the peace and quiet, to do a little skiing and enjoy Lenny's hospitality. Lenny Kravitz had always said the door was open to any of the small circle of friends who wanted to use the place as a getaway. Lenny had meant for the guys to bring wives or girlfriends up here. Oh well, who needed the refuge more, Donny or Frank to escape with a girl they wanted to impress or Buster and Scully? Scully was asleep in the passenger seat, and he was loath to wake her. She looked so peaceful in the pale moonlight. He couldn't make out Buster in the back, but he was aware of the Dog's regular breathing, indicating he, too had fallen asleep. Mulder reached over to touch Scully's shoulder. She woke in an instant. "Huh?" "We're here. Come on, help me gather the stuff out of the back and wake up beeping beauty back there." Buster yawned once and regained his feet, following the humans up onto the wooden deck. "This is a nice place." Scully could make out a lot in the full moonlight. "Wait till the sun's out. It gets better." Mulder removed the glass hood of the wall sconce porch light and retrieved a key. He opened the front door without a problem. "Where are the beds? I'm sorry Mulder but at this hour I'd rather explore in the morning." "It is morning Scully." He flipped on a light switch. "Upstairs. Just look in the rooms till you find one with a bed." She took her bags and trudged up the stairs with a barely discernable "Night Mulder." He saw Buster had flopped down in front of the empty fireplace. He knew how they felt. But first things first. He went to the gourmet refrigeration unit in the large kitchen to the back of the house. He was in luck. There were five packs just sitting in there. Since most of Lenny's friends came here to ski in the winter keeping ice packs on hand for sprains and strains was prudent. Mulder grabbed two of the cold blue bags and shook them up, feeling the gel was still good he took them with him in to the couch. He really didn't feel like climbing stairs anyway.
Chapter 12. Rain. It was raining. He could hear it faintly outside. Cautiously he rose off the couch, amazingly free of pain. The sound of shattering glass upstairs and a scream of terror sent spears of ice through his gut, up his spine. He ran up the stairs. "Scully!" God, not her. Let her be ok, please just let her... Low animal sounds, and a soft canine whimper came from behind the door to his left. Without hesitation he kicked it in. The room was dark, only the moonlight illuminating the rain that blew in through the shattered full wall window, the curtains whipping the the wind like the flapping of some great leathery wings. Like a dragon, a dragon of death. Buster lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The dog's legs still twitched and it whined low in its throat. It's too intelligent eyes met his, begging for forgiveness. No words were needed. 'I'm sorry.' those eyes said, 'forgive me. I'm sorry.' Before the light, the brilliance of which rivaled that of humans faded from those eyes. Mulder looked up, there was something hunched over the bed. It was a shadow, but a bolt of lightening briefly outlined a hunched nightmare with wickedly curved talons. He aimed his gun at it's back, the grip cold against his palm. His hand cramping from the need to fire. To kill it. The thing was leaning over something... doing something. It had killed Buster... where was Scully? Where was... The thing turned. In another flash of lightening his world crumbled. Scully lay sprawled across the bed. Blood was everywhere. Her throat was gone, and her torso slashed. The thing was smiling at him, it's teeth still dripping with Scully's lifeblood. "NOOoooooooo!" He fired, his finger jerking the trigger, emptying the clip fully into the creature, kept jerking the trigger when the only sound coming from the gun was a repetitive clicking. The thing had jerked with the impact of the bullets, but did not go down. its eyes blazed in rage. Mulder let his eyes fall on the still, mangled form on the bed and lowered his gun. As the thing leapt for him he raised no defense. Die. He wanted to die... Before he felt the agony of the razor claws ripping through his stomach the creature's countenance blurred, melting into the face of that smoking bastard.... Mulder sat up suddenly, the air rushing from his lungs. He hurt. His shoulder, his hip and his cheek throbbed dully. A hand instinctively went to his abdomen. Only to smooth over the cotton of his tee shirt. Outside the sun was shining. No rain, no darkness. The clock on the TV across from him told him that it was 9:17 in the morning. How the hell had he slept so late? Upstairs he heard the sounds of the shower. Well, sort of. It sounded weird, like rain on plastic. Rain... Ok, you're a psychologist you figure it out, he thought to himself. Horror stories of the thing created with the original Dog, anxiety over what he and Scully had been dragged into this time and the sounds of the water upstairs had combined to give him a nice new nightmare for his growing collection. He stood up stiffly. The ice pacs had long since warmed up so he returned them to the fridge before making his way up the stairs. The water from the shower WAS running, but the door was open. He peered through the doorway to see one of the more amusing sights in his life. Scully had lined the tub with a shower curtain before donning a plastic rain poncho and a pair of rubber gloves. She had Buster completely coated in black dye. She ran a brush through his fur, making sure he was well coated as she rinsed away the dye under the detachable shower head. He didn't know HOW she had managed to get the fur so close to his eyes, nose and lips, but the dog was completely covered. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. After his nightmare this was just too much. Scully turned and arched a brow at him. "It lives. Laugh now, but YOU are cleaning this up. I did my part." Buster looked at Mulder accusingly. But accusing him of what? Leaving Scully to do this task on her own? Allowing poor Buster to be coated in black goo? Whatever it was he just nodded. "Sure. I'll clean up. But who gets the shower after him?" Scully glared this time. "*I* do. You slept the morning away. I've been busy. I get dibbs. You get to take Buster out so the two of you can get the lay of the land or whatever male bonding guys do." "Oh joy. Hey Buster, there's a video store in town about twenty miles from here. Want to go see if they have any nature shows on the mating habits of dogs?" He grinned until the wet, yet unstained washrag hit him right in the chest. "You are NOT getting him into doggie porn. Take a hike." "Real subtle Scully." Mulder leaned against the sink as she went on full rinse. The odor of wet dog mingled with the ammonia tang of the hair dye to make the smell in the bathroom something to remember. If he was lucky by the time she was done the air would have cleared. When all the water ran clear Buster was a black dog. He looked like a golden Retriever/ Black Lab crossbreed. His fur was too long for a pure lab. The dog started to shiver until Scully spoke sharply. "Don't you DARE! I'm going to squeeze you dry, towel you off then turn the hair dryer on you again. But you are NOT going to shake and soak this bathroom. Got that?" Buster hung his head and woofed once, softly.
Lem watched the cars ahead of him on the interstate. He was only mildly disappointed that they hadn't spotted him following them. Sure he was trained for this, but it still showed a lack of attentiveness. Scrappy whined at the window kept closed at his side. He knew why he couldn't stick his head out, but it vexed him none the less. Having lost all trace of Buster, Lem had told his friend that following the hunters was the next best thing. If they DID find the missing Dog and those who were helping him then Lem might be able to run interference. Scrappy had agreed. The two he had to stick to were up ahead in a black van. Hardly original. The taller of the two gave Lem the creeps. He'd picked them up at the strip mall they'd been searching based on his own investigation into the finance records of Mulder and Scully. What he'd discovered about the two so far was impressive. He just hoped they could lay low for a while.
Webb handed Cook the pages he'd just received through the portable FAX. Lists of every known friend, relative and acquaintance of the agents they were after. "This is alright, but they will expect us to track their friends and families. They are too clever for that. They'll stick to cheap hotels and the like. Places where no one asks questions, probably ones that allow pets. I want a list of every hotel at or under $40 a night for a double in this and the surrounding states. I want a complete list of this pairs past cases, especially in these states, aiming at where they stayed. The ones that allow pets go on top of this list. Let's see if I can out think them." Webb looked at Cook strangely, and Cook kept his face carefully neutral. "All right, we'll get on it." Cook sighed. How to make a move and counter-move. He actually thought smart as these two were they would assume he'd think just what he'd told Webb, and so use some family refuge. He was reminded of a funny sketch he'd seen in 'The Princess Bride', trying to out think the opponent by guessing what glass held the poison. It was a whole big 'I know that you know that I know that you know' game that could go on infinitum. So if he made the wrong choice and actually DID track them down? After all he couldn't obviously be misleading. Well then he hoped he could get them out alive. What scared him was that in 'The Princess Bride' BOTH glasses had been poisoned.
Buster came downstairs looking like the Pink Panther fresh from the clothes dryer. Mulder finished shoving the stained shower curtain and poncho into a garbage bag for later disposal. The look Buster gave him told him that the Dog KNEW how he looked and would be glad to make Mulder aware of just how sharp all those teeth were if he said one word. Two baths and blow dryings, not to mention the damages of the dye did not do well for the poor guy. "Come On ugly, I'll take you out so you can kill some plant life." Once in the woods Buster bounded along a deer path with limitless energy. Chasing down interesting smells and marking almost every other tree as his. "All this and brains too." Mulder muttered under his breath. Buster was up ahead looking back as if wondering what was taking so long. He wasn't about to admit to a DOG that he was still stiff and sore. "Come on, let's head back. We've been out here for fifteen minutes." Buster spotted a passing bee and got a gleam in his eye. He gave Mulder a 'but I wanna play now' look before chasing the bug. Mulder shook his head. Ten minutes later they headed back. Mulder went inside. Scully wasn't at the computer, though she had set the laptop on the table and left it powered up. Mulder heard the water running upstairs running. She was still in the shower. Buster jumped onto the table and picked up the stylus between his teeth. He began to tap on the keys. Mulder poured himself an iced tea then moved to stand behind the dog to see what he was writing. SHE IS NICE. WHY YOU NOT MARRIED HAVE BABIES. Mulder spewed his tea across the kitchen then started to cough. The tea had lodged itself in the wrong pipe. Tears came to his eyes as he finally coughed out enough to regain his breath, and his voice. "What? Buster she's my partner. My friend. We don't think of each other like that. Now delete that before you embarrass us both." YOU THINK OF HER LIKE A MATE ALL THE TIME. I SEE YOU Mulder gripped the back of the chair hard. He had thought Buster was asleep too. Damn Dog. He reached forward and deleted the screen. "Look, she's off bounds. Even if I did... feel that way, she doesn't. End of story." Mulder was speaking low now, close to Buster's ear, afraid Scully, wherever she was, might hear. "What we do would make that kind of relationship dangerous anyway." Buster turned back to the laptop, slowly and carefully pecking out keys. SHE FEELS SAME THING. SHE WATCHES YOU WHILE YOU Mulder hissed and closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He did not want to read this, did not want to know this. YOU BOTH SHARE ALL NOW. YOUR HEARTS AND LIVES. WHY "You know you're a real pain in the ass Dog, have been since I met you." Mulder deleted the screen again. AND YOU ARE STUPID. STUBBORN. YOU SHOULD NIP HER The suggestion burned a mental image into Mulder's mind. Not good. Mulder couldn't believe it. A dog was making him blush. HIM. This was getting beyond ridiculous. "Next time I need sex advice from I dog I'll be sure to look you up." Mulder heard the sharp intake of breath behind him and spun. Scully stood in the kitchen doorway, her hair still wet from her shower. An oversized robe tied closed over her small form, gaping open just enough at the top to make Mulder aware of why he was having this stupid conversation with the Dog in the first place. The view also made him think on that mental image again. Her eyes were glued to the laptop in front of Buster. Mulder ran a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath as he reached over to again delete the screen. "Just what the hell is going on down here? I came down to get my new clothes and find this going on in the kitchen?" She crossed her arms and glared at them. Mulder ignored the tap, taping of the computer keys. Turning his back on the Dog to fully face his partner. "Buster here was making another bad attempt at humor." Scully looked from at something behind him and paled. Mulder spun to look at the computer screen. HE LOVES YOU. YOU LOVE HIM. STOP BEING STUBBORN. That was it. He was going to save the NSA and the Consortium some time. He was going to throttle the Dog here and now. "That's it. Muzzle, choke chain and travel cage for you from here on in." Mulder growled at the dog who only sat there and yawned at the threats. Chapter 13.
"Buster you have a lot to learn about human nature." Scully interjected. She had been flustered a moment before but she had recovered. "Mulder and I care about one another, we are best friends. And yes, we have a bond that runs deep. I suppose it could be called love. We rely on each other so much, and we have seen and been through so much... but it isn't THAT kind of relationship. I can understand how it can be confusing at times." She moved forward to stroke the top of Buster's head. Mulder wasn't sure if he wanted to applaud Scully's flawless explanation, or cringe. It certainly clarified her own feelings if nothing else, not that he hadn't already suspected just that. So he determined to keep any of his own unpartnerlike feelings to himself. "I have to go into town for some food. I made some iced tea from powder, but there is nothing but canned and dried stuff here." Mulder decided to make a graceful exit while he could. "Oh no! I am not leaving food choices up to the frozen dinner king. No way." Scully shook her head emphatically. "You go shower and change. I'm coming with you." "What about Buster? Do you think we should leave him alone?" Tap....tap....tap... Mulder was almost afraid to look at what message awaited them this time. DON'T NEED BABY SITTER. I'M AN ADULT. Mulder tried to suppress a smile at that, but his lips twitched a bit. "Hot dogs are not good for you. How about some ground beef instead? I can cook it up and rinse off the grease?" Scully asked. YOU TAKE FUN OUT OF EVERYTHING. Mulder decided to sneak off for that shower before he laughed and Scully smacked him.
When the van stopped the others moved on. The teams would coordinate only when needed. It was too conspicuous to stay together. They had stopped at a steak house for a quick lunch. Inside Cook was pouring over a list of hotels that accepted cash only in the surrounding states. With a highlighter he marked names likely to be chosen by the prey. Webb didn't like this. The Dog was much more mobile now. Hell, he and his two keepers could be in Canada by now. He pulled Hernandez, their van's driver, to the side and gave him the list Cook wanted put on hold. "Take this to Simms. Tell him to put a team on checking out each of these addresses, and to check out the people listed. Tell him Cook thinks it's a dead end but I want to be certain." Hernandez nodded and moved to return to the van, hopefully without Cook noticing. If Webb had pulled him out of earshot then he gathered that Cook didn't need to know about it.
Lem was working a crossword puzzle in the car. His query had been in the steak house for the past twenty minutes. He'd already eaten. He always tailed someone with a full cooler. Scrappy was playing a trivia game on the laptop. His latest favorite was the JEOPARDY home game. When the driver of the van emerged from the restaurant alone Lem frowned. When he disappeared into the van for five minutes, without the van moving Lem was puzzled. "What the hell?" The sounds of the game stopped and Scrappy placed a paw on his leg. MAYBE HE SICK. OR MAYBE THEY SPOT YOU AFTER ALL. But the two NSA men he'd targeted as heading the team emerged in three more minutes and got into the van. "Something about this whole thing is looking ugly. Uglier then we thought maybe." Lem muttered as he started his car and prepared to follow.
Stupid. Humans could be so stupid sometimes. Those two needed a good bite in the ass. Buster paced the chalet. Exploring it once again. Who did they think they were fooling anyway? Not him. When Dana had shown up in that too big robe there was no mistaking the scent coming off the Fox. It was the subtle changing of scent that came with a release of hormones in the body. Put at it's most basic it was the human equivalent of heat. Buster knew the biology behind it, he also knew that no rationalization detracted from putting things on their most basic and simple level. The Fox was male, Dana was female. He wanted her. And if Buster's eyes and nose had not failed she wanted him as well. They liked each other. They respected one another. It was more than lust. They were in love. What was WRONG with these humans? Buster almost scratched that the itchy burn in his side but settled for wriggling. Don't tear the stitches. The dye had burned the slash a bit, but all in all he thought he was healing quite nicely. Ok what to do about Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee? Thinking about that helped keep his mind off the itch. Being blunt wasn't working. Maybe he had to be a bit sneaky? Just how sneaky can you can get without opposable digits was a indication of canine cleverness. Buster sighed. With a doggie grin Buster had the beginnings of a plan. Now, if he could only get the breaker box open...
They had stocked up on edibles and were heading back. For once the silence between them was uncomfortable. It was close enough to their usual shared silences it made Dana's skin crawl. She glanced over at Mulder who was either watching the road or zoning out. And since he was driving she hoped it was the former. Great. They hadn't said more then two words since they left, and they had Buster to thank for it. It was stupid. Why were they both so uncomfortable over such a simple misunderstanding? It's not like it was the first time their relationship was mistaken for another. Maybe it was Buster's earnest forthrightness about his questions and from what Scully could see, suggestions. Maybe it was because in the Dog's guileless innocence he had touched too close to home. She looked away from Mulder and tried to focus on the wooded scenery out the window. Tried not to think of how his still damp hair slicked back just so, or how his adam's apple bobbed just slightly when he swallowed or the lines of his profile or ... dammit Dana stop it, she chided herself. Ok so there WAS a physical attraction. At least on her part. But a little dose of lust did not true love make. Love was... what? Putting the needs and happiness of the other before your own. Knowing someone completely and accepting all they were despite the faults and flaws. Thinking about that person a lot, even and especially when they weren't there. She bit down on the inside of her cheek. Oh shit. Step back from this and think about it rationally. Ok, that worked. She WAS in love. But it didn't change anything. Not really. Mulder didn't feel the same way. Yes, he liked and respected her. Yes he was overprotective. But when did he put her before himself? Besides handing over the MJ tape, leaving the decision in her hands. Or trying to get her to back away from a case that made her uncomfortable... he still ran off on his own, still had his head berried in his endless search for 'The Truth' so far that he was blind to almost everything else. His first priority was finding his sister, or at the very least finding what happened to her. Everything else, everyone else, was incidental. He was driven, intense, and passionate under an exterior of cool indifference. And he had no room or desire in his life for anything more than one night stands and celluloid fantasies. And even if she were willing to settle for that, which she wasn't, she was hardly the statuesque brunette type with legs that go all the way up that Mulder had a penchant for. "Quarter for your thoughts." Mulder's voice startled her out of her thoughts. "Thought it was supposed to be a penny." She looked at him, forcing a bland expression. "Well, you know, inflation, taxes, factor in a small profit." He gave her that disarming lopsided grin. "Buster." "Buster," he repeated. "So what? Now you're a parrot? Yes, Buster. You know, short, furry, smart ass, pulls off the wounded puppy look even better than you." "Ooooh, THAT Buster. I thought you meant Buster KEATON. I thought you had a thing for Tarzan." The teasing gleam was back in his eyes. Everything was alright. "Keaton? No way. Christopher Lambert... Now THERE was a Tarzan." a faint smile touched her lips. "So you like men in loincloths?" He pulled into the short driveway. "Depends on the man." She reached behind the seat to grab two of the grocery bags. "Ever hear my Tarzan imitation?" He whispered close to her ear before ducking out the driver side door with his two bags. She froze for a few seconds then regained her composure. Just what the hell did he think he was doing?
Just what the hell did he think he was doing? Hear my Tarzan imitation, smooth move Mulder. He winced inwardly. But part of him wanted to just see how she'd react. A little game of shock Scully, it was harmless. Right. So why did she looked flushed and why did she freeze up for a moment? Mulder opened the door and headed for the kitchen before noticing the place seemed a bit dim. It was only when he got to the kitchen and opened the fridge to put the milk and perishables away that he noticed the total lack of power. Buster was sitting at the table in front of the powerbook, which was thankfully run on batteries. LIGHTS AND STUFF WENT OFF JUST AFTER YOU LEFT. I Great, just great. Mulder moved the perishables to the freezer, planning on keeping it closed as much as possible to keep the temp down. "What's wrong?" Scully set her bags at the table then read the screen. She shook her head. "Ok then off this goes, we better preserve the batteries." She turned the powerbook off and closed it up. "They may have traced us here somehow?" Mulder frowned, suddenly alert. Mulder, if they did and THEY cut the power, they would have come in and taken Buster when they didn't have US to deal with. No, it's a simple power outage. "Scully unpacked her bags and frowned at the pint of ice cream she had bought. "Freezer should be good overnight at least." Mulder pointed out. Dinner was grilled chicken. By the time it was done it was dark out, so they ate by candle light. Throughout the meal Mulder kept giving suspicious glances at Buster, who was pointedly ignoring both of them. It was nice. Too nice. After dinner Scully built up a fire. It was too warm for one really, but it would provide light. Mulder found an old Scrabble game and set it down in front of the fire place. It was weird, because Buster wanted to play. He even won the first game, mostly because something in their human egos didn't think he could. But by the time he'd used his last tile in the word 'rationale' they were ready for him. Mulder won the second game, pulling on the strangest words he could find which kept Scully looking in the dictionary. Buster bowed out of a third game. He limped off to the kitchen, spelling out 'TIRED' with the wooden tiles. As they set up for a third game Scully sighed. "So what are we going to do? We can't stay here forever." "We wait a few days, and hopefully this Hyatt guy will send word through the guys. They can reach us through your computer. THEN we should have someplace to take him at least." Scully nodded. The dancing firelight burnishing her hair, and playing with the shadows on her face. She looked beautiful. "I'll miss him." She actually looked sad. "Yeah, well, you can't keep him. Even disguised. I think the fact that we're here is proof enough of that." "When we get back." She looked at him, as if daring him to refute the when part, "I promise not to make fun of your rampant paranoia again. AND, I'd appreciate it if you had my apartment sweeped." "Sure. Frohike will do it for a pair of your underwear." Mulder lay down his first word. 'danger'. "I don't think so." She lay out 'devil'. Mulder turned to look at her word and she was right there, their arms brushing. So close. It barely took any movement at all on his part to lean over just the slightest bit and cover her lips with his own. No effort at all for the reward of the incredible heat that spread through him from that simple sensation, a heat that had nothing to do with the crackling fire before them.
Chapter 14. What was going on? She had simply been playing a game of scrabble, and out of nowhere... Fox Mulder was kissing her. Her partner was kissing her. And she was liking it. A lot. His lips were soft and warm on hers. They moved slightly to sandwich her bottom lip. Then she felt him shift slightly, his fingers gently tracing the side of her face. Small tingles of excitement flowed from every nerve his fingers brushed. What the... She jumped back as if burned. And in a way she had been. Burned by him. What was happening here? She had always assumed that he respected her too much to try pulling something like this. Just what was he pulling? And what would she do if he really was interested? If despite her earlier assessment he was indeed interested in her as more than a partner and friend? "Mulder, what the hell is happening here? I'm no one's one night stand, and I definitely think this is a line we don't want to cross." His eyes, meeting hers were filled with a mixture of fear and... was it desire? Oh shit. This was not good. He inhaled and moved back. "You're right." He ran his free hand through his hair. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm tired, and the company, the firelight, the scent of wood smoke... it all went to my head." His hasty apology hurt. Why? It was what she wanted wasn't it? No. Dammit she wanted him. It was just not a smart move. Besides he wasn't really interested. But then why had he kissed her? "I don't think your head was all that involved with what just happened here." Her lips twitched slightly. "Sure it was Scully, just not the one you're thinking of." The flip rejoinder didn't mask the hurt and disappointment in his eyes. She loved him. Completely, hopelessly. She trusted him with her life. With her sanity. How much harder could it be to trust him with her heart? "I meant what I said Mulder. I'm no one's one night stand." Mulder frowned, "I never in a million years thought you were." Scully smiled, one of her rare room lighting smiles. "If that's true just what are you looking for?" Mulder looked a bit flustered. He looked down at their hands, so close on the floor. "I'm looking for forever." He said it so softly, as if speaking the words aloud would shatter what they had now. Their friendship. Scully couldn't quite find her voice. So she moved her hand, to cover his. At that he looked at her. His heart was in his eyes, and she wondered how she had ever managed to miss it before. Or had she been afraid to see it? It didn't matter. This was mutual. And with the absolute clarity of hindsight she could see it had been for a while now. This time she leaned in to kiss him. Yes, she could trust him with her heart. She could trust him with everything. The kiss deepened. At this signal of willingness from her he seemed to allow his own fears to slip away. She felt his hand on the curve of her neck. His palm warm and dry and slightly rough against her skin as she opened herself to him. To his taste, his touch, his scent... everything. It felt so right. His mouth was demanding on hers, his tongue dipping inside to taste, to seek her soul thru this contact. She shifted and was made aware of just how uncomfortable the floor was. Reluctantly she broke this kiss as well. "Come on. Let's take this upstairs, away from hard floors and prying eyes." She looked meaningfully at the dark kitchen. She stood and Mulder moved to follow, wincing slightly as he gained his feet. "I'm not exactly at my best Scully." His wry, self-depreciating smile touched her. She nodded and gently brushed her finger over the bruise on his cheek. She remembered his slight limp. "Don't worry. I'm a doctor... I'm sure I can figure something out." She twined her fingers with his and led him to the stairs, quickly before she lost her nerve or allowed herself to think about it too much. As they made their way up the stairs Buster stepped from the kitchen - his tail wagging at top speed, and a grin on his doggy face.
The upstairs was dark, and neither of them were absolutely familiar with the chalet. Mulder paused, then released Scully's hand, feeling along the wall for the linen closet. Finding the door he opened it and felt around the third shelf for the candle stash. Power problems were not new here, really. He'd been here one winter when the lines went down due to a snow storm. He found them, right where he remembered them. He bumped into Scully, who hadn't moved. She felt along his arm to take his hand once more. Inside the master bedroom Mulder found a pack of matches in the top dresser drawer. Lighting a candle he found two decorative candles on either side of the dresser mirror and lit them as well. Scully found an ashtray and with the use of some melted wax they anchored three more candles to it. The room was bathed in a soft amber glow. He turned from the candles to look at Scully. The sight stole his breath away. While he had been lighting candles she had taken the opportunity to remove her t-shirt. She was standing next to the bed. In jeans and her bra. At that moment she looked a lot smaller then usual. Or maybe he was just looking at her differently. She moved toward him and pulled his shirt free of his jeans. He finished the job of pulling it over his head. He slid his fingers under Scully's chin, lifting her face up to him, so he could look in her eyes. Tears shimmered there but desire overshadowed the hints of fear. He bent down to brush his lips over her eyes, kissing away the tears, tasting the saltiness of them before finding her mouth with his own once more. His arm slipped behind her, pulling her close, feeling the cool roughness of her lace trimmed bra just below the soft warmth of her breasts as she molded to him. She was kissing him now, hungrily, her arms twining about his neck, pulling him down a bit more. He kissed his way down her throat, finding every spot that made her gasp and shiver with his lips and tongue. Her fingernails scraped against his scalp and bit into his shoulder. He found the clasp to her bra and unhooked it, peeling it off her. He moved back to look at the flesh he was revealing. She smiled softly as he ran a single finger over the outside curve of each breast before moving in to circle each hardened nipple. She bit her full bottom lip and her eyes half closed to savor the sweet sensations his feathery caresses sent though her. He tugged her to the bed and sat on the edge, so she stood before him between his spread legs. He kissed the tops of her breasts, cupping their warm weight in his palms, lightly squeezing. He inhaled the rich scent there. The soft aroma that was purely Scully. He savored it, though he knew that scent already. Here it was stronger, and infinitely more heady. When he finally pulled one hardened nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and nipping it slightly before providing it with the gentle suckling that produced a low moan from her. That sound, added to the arching of her back and her fingers clasping his head to her all combined to make his own jeans painfully tight. He could feel the roughness of the zipper, the texture of the cotton of his boxers. He let his hands wander over her body, memorizing each curve and muscle before he reached to undo her jeans. All the while he occupied his mouth with one breast then the other, trailing fiery kisses between them. Scully felt her knees going weak. It wasn't a reaction she was used to. The sweet ache, the flush of heat brought on by Mulder's hands and mouth were enough to drive almost all conscious thought from her mind. She felt him tug her jeans and underwear down, and she stepped from them before pushing him back on the bed. She noticed the momentary flash of pain though, and as she pulled off his jeans - tugging the boxers with them - she got her first look at his hip. The bruise was dark and deep. Completely removing the last of his clothing she leaned over to examine his shoulder again. "Oh God, don't you DARE become Doctor Scully right now." He cupped the base of her skull in his hand and dragged her down for another deep sensual kiss, driving her medical evaluation from her mind. Finally coming up for air she gave him a slow, seductive smile. "I was just going to kiss it and make it better." She bent to kiss his shoulder, lifting his arm in one hand to trail her tongue down the varying degrees of bruise to end at his elbow. Her eyes met him over his arm and she smiled at the way his breath caught. His other hand was exploring her, touching everywhere he could reach, stroking, squeezing, tempting. She dropped his arm and rained kisses on his chest, feeling the muscles there jump and move under her mouth. Enjoying the salt and musky scent and taste. She payed the same attention to his flat nipples as he had to hers, and she smiled as he arched under her. She could feel him - hard and heavy pressed against her stomach. She moved lower, sliding her body against his. Reveling in the feel of heated flesh against heated flesh. She kissed the dark patch on his hip as her hands moved between them, one to cup and gently squeeze the other to stroke and tease. She ran her thumb in circles over the tip of his arousal. "God, Dana," he hissed, thrusting upward. She released him and took his hands. "Sit up. Back against the headboard." Her tone brooked no argument. He did, pulling himself back so his back leaned against the carved wooden headboard. She kneeled before him, straddling his legs so he could feel her moist heat pressing against him. She kissed his bruised cheek. "You are so sexy, you know that? Even bruised and bedraggled. I want you. So very much." He kissed her again, slow and deep before moving back to look into her eyes. His own eyes were rendered ebon dark in the candlelight, glazed with desire. "Well you got me." His hands encircled her waist. "For as long as you can put up with me." His hand moved to cup her, his finger seeking and finding the slick readiness there. She smiled as the love in his eyes combined with his words filled her heart near to breaking. She lifted up and moved forward, then - bracing one hand on his uninjured shoulder the other on the headboard behind him- she slowly sank down onto him, taking her own weight on her knees. He placed his hands on her waist again. She threw her head back as she felt him enter but forced herself to look back at his face, to watch him. It had been so long that, wet as she was, it was still a bit uncomfortable. She took him in slowly, allowing herself to get used to the fullness. He filled her completely. He had trapped his full, pouty bottom lip under his top teeth, his eyes searching hers as if silently answering a challenge. He seemed to be struggling as much as she was to maintain focus. Their bodies were in complete contact, their torsos pressed together so she could feel the fine hairs of his chest against her nipples with every breath either of them took. She kissed him as she began to move. The groan that rumbled from his throat was as thrilling as the feel of him against her, with her, inside her. They found a rhythm immediately, in sync with one another in this as much as with anything. She felt one of his hands move to cup her breast as the other settled at the small of her back. The hand at her breast caressed and squeezed as his thumb teased and tormented the tip. Their eyes never left each other as each move, each caress and each stroke brought them closer to the white hot center they sought. They searched each other's faces and eyes, learning just what move, what touch brought the most pleasure. No words were needed. Their eyes said it all. They only stopped the intense scrutiny when one or the other leaned in to steal a kiss, setting the thrust of tongues to match the rhythm of their joining below until a mutual need for air forced them to stop and seek each other's eyes again. Dana felt herself close to the edge, the heat ready to sear her. Mulder saw this and thrust deeper, sending her over the edge and into the blazing core, crying out his name as she went. The sound of her release as much as the feel of her body milking him sent Mulder immediately after her. He too cried out as he spilled into her, his body continuing to thrust against her, as his arms wrapped around her to pull her close. He wanted to be part of her, to lose himself in her. At last, exhausted, he slid down on the bed and lay back - dragging her with him. He didn't ever want to let her go again. Chapter 15.
Lem could feel Karen stroking his face, soft little touches that indicated a pleasant prospect for an early morning diversion. His wife brushed along his jaw then licked at his ear. He smiled. "Karen..." He opened his eyes to face the amused dark eyes of a Golden Retriever. "Geez Scrapps, give me a heart attack why don't you?" He sat up slowly. His joints ached from sleeping cramped up in a car last night. "They leaving?" he asked the dog, who had taken the second watch shift. Scrappy barked. That meant no. So why did he... Oh. "You need to answer natures call?" A tail wag. Yes. Lem opened the door for the dog and moved to the side of a commercial van parked next to him, away from the line of sight of the hotel room he was watching. He checked his watch. 8 am. They should be up and about soon. He heard his cell phone's chirrup and answered quickly. "Yes." The voice on the other end was familiar. "Lem if we set up a meet with you and the two who have Buster do you think you can get him to California? Keene can set up false papers so it will appear he's been owned by a family out there for a couple of years." "Sure, sure. I can do that. You know where our fugitives are?" Johnson ran a hand over his face. Dealing with the guy on the phone and his associates always made him nervous. They were so... weird. Yet they had managed to help keep the Dogs a secret for the past eight years, ever since one of them had traced Einstein, and been convinced that mass media exposure of the miracle Einstein and his progeny would be disastrous. "Not technically. but we know how to contact them. This is Hyatt's plan..." "Wait a minute... why didn't you guys just take Buster in, if you can contact the people who have him?" Lem was feeling the past few days of frustration boiling up. "We didn't want to expose ourselves unless absolutely necessary. We've been covering his tracks so to speak, though. And at no little risk to ourselves I might add. Besides, we are watched too. He wouldn't really have been any safer with us. The people he is with are better able to handle this situation." Lem was surprised. "Doddard's house... you broke in and removed all the photographic evidence of Buster." There was a laugh on the line. "And all medical records, Doddards personal journals cataloging IQ tests and growth charts. We left no stone unturned." Lem shook his head in amazement. "Ok, set up the meet. Call me back and tell me where and when."
Cook poured over his list. Hoping it would be futile at the same time as he actually matched the expense reports of agents Mulder and Scully to the list. Highlighting places they had stayed in the past. Marking with a check places they might choose to stay now based on rates, availability to pets and names. Any hotel or motel that has a name that could be associated with space. The Starlight, The Full Moon, Skyview, and so on... something that might appeal to the man who's dossier and career history he'd checked out. He was also checking anything with a Nautical theme or name. Scully was from a Navy Family. Webb had taken his cell phone into the bathroom. No doubt getting his next crooked orders. Cook felt like he was falling deeper and deeper into a pit. A pit with sides made of soft sand, so the more he tried to crawl out, the more he pulled it in on himself.
The sunlight brightened the room considerably. This illumination began to stir Mulder's sleep fogged brain. No nightmares - at least that he could remember. He felt the soft, fragrant warmth against his side and opened his eyes to see a bright red mass of hair pillowed on his chest. Various portions of the previous, and very long, night came back in perfect detail. He caught himself grinning a foolish cat that ate the canary grin he was sure she would shoot him for if she saw it. Scully stirred in her sleep. He reached down to trace light circles on her back with his fingertips. She moaned softly, and the sound played havoc on his libido. He felt her stir more and looked down to see a pair of penetrating blue eyes peering back at him. "Morning." He smiled lazily. "Yeah, I guess so." Scully sat up and stretched, sinuously, like a cat. He watched the graceful arch of her back, the play of smooth muscle there, the way she raised her arms, how it lifted her breasts delightfully. He felt himself begin to stir again. He let his fingers play over her neck, her shoulder. "You are so beautiful." She looked down at him and blushed. The pink tinge coloring not only her face but her throat and breasts. "You ain't so bad yourself Mulder." She swept out of bed, making the sheets seem cold without her. "What, no morning kiss?" He gave her the whipped puppy look he had perfected over the years. "Morning BREATH. I'm going to brush my teeth, then shower. If you drag your lazy ass outta bed you just might be allowed to join me." Mulder cleared the bed in record time, bruised hip or no. The water was already running when he got there. He could see Scully's silhouette on the other side of the frosted glass shower doors. The sound however, was making his bladder uncomfortable. Scully could no doubt hear what he was doing out here, but was polite enough to refrain from laughing outright. Dana did in fact hear him outside the shower doors. But laughing would have been hard anyway as she had a toothbrush and a mouthful of minty foam in her mouth. She shelved the toothbrush and rinsed her mouth before reaching for the shampoo, only to have her wrist caught. She looked at Mulder as he slid the shower door shut and took the bottle from her fingers. He stood in the stream of hot water, the spray hitting his back as streams of wetness flowed down his body, following the contours of his muscles, flowing over planes and angles like a caress. Scully bit her bottom lip. It just was NOT fair what he could do to her. Not fair at all. All he was doing was standing there, bruised and wet, squeezing shampoo into his hand, and she wanted him. Wanted to be the water sliding over his flesh. When one hand touched her shoulder it send a jolt of desire through her, centering in her breasts and belly. He turned her gently, so she faced away from him. Then she felt his fingers moving through her hair. Strong fingertips massaging her scalp sending opposing sensations of relaxation and anticpation through her as he worked up a lather. His fingers working in circles, working the bubbles through all of her hair. A slow heat and lethargy spread through her limbs so that she almost jumped when she felt his lips place an open kiss at the junction of her neck and collarbone. The little circles his tongue made on her flesh as he kissed her there causing her knees to feel a tad unsteady, and it took her a moment to realize the soft whimper she heard was coming from her. It was incredably intimate, having him wash her hair. It was a simple thing she had always done for herself. It spoke volumes as well. This wasn't about sex, although it was highly erotic. It was about closeness, sharing. Not the act of a casual sex partner, but the reverent act of a lover. Then his mouth was gone and he pulled her back a bit, so that the hot water hit her head and ran in a flood down her back. His fingers still working magic on her scalp as he rinsed the suds away. When she felt his fingers fall away from her head and begin to caress the back of her neck she moved away - turning to take his hands in her own she pulled him forward then circled so she stood behind him. "Your turn," she smiled softly and reached for the shampoo. His eyes were dark with desire. He had enjoyed that as much as she did. She poured a cool dollop of the thick stuff into her palm and realized with a fleeting sense of dismay that he was too tall, and her arms would grow tired very quickly if she tried to reach the top of his head. But her practical side asserted itself at once. "This would be easier if you... kneel down." "You've got me on my knees all the time." There was the sharp gleam of amusement in his eyes as he knelt before her, and her stomach did a little flip flop as she realized just where his face was when he knelt upright. The crooked grin on his face told her he knew damn well before he got down. There was no reluctance however, when she took a small step forward to begin spreading the shampoo through his hair. The short wet stands sliding slickly through her fingers, tickling her palm. She felt his arms encircle her and cold slickness move across her back causing her to shiver. His hand were making firm circles against her back, her spine. "What are you doing?" she asked with an arched brow as she felt his fingertips slide between her buttocks. "Your investigative skills are getting rusty. I'm washing your back Agent Scully. You know, I wash yours, you wash mine." The heat building in her threatened to turn into an inferno at the implication of his words. She pretended to ignore him as she ran her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp as she felt his mouth against the underside of her breast. "That's not fair." She gasped. "All's fair in love and war." He moved to the other breast, his hand continuing to soap her back. His mouth closed over her nipple and she moaned, pushing forward a bit as her fingers tightened in his sudsy hair. She could feel the movement of his jaw along his temples with each long pull of suction setting fire to her blood. He moved to the other breast as his hands soaped her sides. Clinging desperately to her thoughts she snatched the soap away from him and moved back. She almost laughed to see him kneeling there, pouting at her - his hair all full of bubbles. "Rinse your hair." She ordered. He obeyed, looking somewhat defeated and very aroused as her eyes drank him in. She ran her fingers through his short hair, rinsing it clean. "Ok, stand up." "I think you enjoy giving orders too much," he grumbled as he stood. "Yeah, well you seem to be enjoying taking them. Turn around, and place your hands on the wall." "You're lucky I trust you with my back turned." He did as she told him, and she stood a moment, admiring the play of lithe muscle along his back, his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and the tightest, most beautiful ass she had ever had the pleasure of observing. Working the soap into a lather in her hands she started at his shoulders, leaning forward to lightly press herself against him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, feeling the shiver running through him as she ran the soap up and down his sides. The slick, slithery glide of soap over warm, satiny skin was electric. She moved her hands down to glide over the firm curve of his behind. She felt the tremor in him again. She smiled to herself as she reached a soapy hand between his legs to cup and stroke him. He threw his head back and groaned as her small hand worked him, his fingers pressing into the wall till the tips were bloodless. She kissed his spine as she released him. As soon as she did he turned and took her shoulders, pulling her up for a long deep kiss. He tasted of mint and himself. His tongue twining with hers she felt him pressing hard and urgent against her stomach. He twisted them, so he was once more under the spray then managed to thrust her away and turn her so she faced the wall at the same time. She felt his large, soapy hands move over her stomach, over her breasts over her throat. His hands moved down, between her thighs. She felt his fingers circle her center, flicking it, once - twice, making her buck into him as tiny sounds of pleasure escaped her. Too soon his hands were gone, leaving her aching for more, for the completion he had brought so close. Then his hands were on her hips, pulling them back and she felt him at her entrance. With a sigh of satisfaction she felt him thrust forward. One of his arms circled round her waist, holding her in place as he thrust into her, again and again. His other hand moved to slip between her folds, just above where they joined. His strokes were long and deep. She felt each one touch home as she ground against him. Their bodies were slick from the water and soap. His fingers continued to work her until she cried out, the world exploding into a burst of shimmering light, control of her body lost as she imploded around him. Losing the use of her knees, she clung to him for support. She felt him spilling hotly into her, twitching inside her as she kept convulsing. His teeth grazed her neck as he called her name. They both sunk slowly to the floor of the shower. Completely sated they allowed the warm water to flow over them.
Buster watched Mulder come down the stairs and check the electricity in the house again. He took in the man's damp hair and soapy smell which almost overrode the musky scent of sex. Buster grinned to himself. He was a very happy Dog. As he moved to the kitchen Mulder saw the message spelled out in Scrabble tiles on the floor. YOU GET SMART "You know fur face, we have really got to get you a life of your own so you stop butting into other people's." He pulled some eggs from the fridge, which was warming despite their best efforts. "I'm gonna go check the fuses, just to be sure you didn't miss something. If we don't get power back soon the fridge will be useless." The Dog watched the man disappear into the cellar with a flashlight. Buster lay down by the fireplace. The dying embers of the previous night's fire provided little heat. He barely looked up when Dana came down. Her hair was pulled back into a damp pony tail and she had a scent similar to Mulder's. Buster wagged his tail in happiness. At that moment the lights decided to come on. Buster woofed softly then jumped up and began pawing at the back door. Dana smiled. "Everyone needs a morning break I suppose." Yes, yes - Buster thought - let me out, quick before he comes back. Open the door... open the door. Dana was reaching for the door knob when he heard the basement door slam. "And just where the hell do YOU think your running off too?" Buster looked sheepishly at the man. He looked livid. Buster tried hard to look conciliatory, and to keep the smug grin off his face.
Mulder moved to lay his hand on the door, holding it closed. "Would you know anything about the main breaker switch being thrown?" He was pissed. That damn DOG had manipulated the situation last night to play out some twisted delusion. He'd had it planned all along. Mulder felt used and betrayed. After all they'd done for the miserable excuse for a mutt he'd been just as manipulative as anyone he and Scully had gone up against. How long had they been manipulated? Was this all part of some plan? The Dog using them from the first moment? Buster had his head down, but the tail tucked between his legs was wagging at the tip. "What are you talking about Mulder?" Scully frowned as she looked at him. "Our buddy Buster here threw the main breaker. He cut the power." Mulder crossed his arms. His initial burst of anger fading quickly in light of the way he had spent the morning so far. "But.... why?" "Haven't you figured it out yet Scully, he's been playing matchmaker all along. He did it to try to get us together." Mulder shot the Dog his most intimidating glare, determined not to let him get off too easy. Scully looked down at Buster wide-eyed. "Did you?" Buster's dark head bent further, but the tip of his tail kept beating a rhythm on the floor. One soft woof. A yes. The shocked look on her face slowly faded into a smile. God she'd been doing that a lot lately. More than usual. "Well it worked didn't it? You're just mad because we didn't catch on. Unless you are going to say you are sorry all this happened..." Her face became closed, her eyes guarded. Dana felt her heart pounding in her chest. What was she going to do if he did say that? "Of course not. Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this, dreamed of it?" He reached out to caress the side of her face. "Then if Buster hadn't arranged for last night to be so romantic, we'd both still be sitting on our hands doing nothing. Actually..." Dana did the unexpected, she crouched and wrapped her arms around the Dog, hugging him tight, "we owe YOU a thank you. Thanks Buster." She kissed the top of his furry black head. Mulder crouched in front of them. "Just don't make a habit of it." The corner of his mouth twitched up into a half smile. He wasn't about to admit to the already smug twit that he'd taken his advice after all. Not in this life time.
Chapter 16. With the power back on Scully plugged in her Powerbook and immediately began to check for any e-mail. With luck Hyatt will have someplace for them to take Buster soon. "You want anything with your omelet?" he asked her as he cracked two eggs into the frying pan. "A Free angioplasty?" She went to the account Mulder had insisted they set up a while back. It was an anonymous e-mail account supposedly run by someone in Michigan. Langly had set it for them, and only he knew the address. "Cheese, bacon and mushrooms it is." He started to grate some cheese and nuke a few strips of bacon. Mail... they had mail. "We may have something." Her tone was distracted as she highlighted the e-mail and opened it. "Mulder, Someone wants to set up a meeting. Hyatt has someone looking for Buster and they want to meet with us. It says here he'll meet wherever you want and prove his identity. He'll smuggle Buster into another state where a new life will be set up for him. It closes with Scrappy says Hi." Buster jumped onto the chair next to her to look at the screen. "Set up?" Mulder met her eyes from across the kitchen. If the people looking for Scrappy got a hold of this e-mail address they could be setting a trap. "Possible." Buster took the pen that had been left on the table and hit the 'reply' key. SCRAPPY IS LEMUEL JOHNSON'S FRIEnd. SCRAPPY IS DOG "Ok, Buster seems to know what's going on more then we do." Mulder muttered as he slid an omelet onto a plate. "Set up a meet, tell him Cool Springs Outdoor diner. He names the time. But I meet him alone. You and Buster stay here. That way if it's a setup you can keep Buster safe." He set the plate and a fork in front of Scully. "Why do YOU go, why can't I?" There was a hint of anger in her voice. "I don't need you wrapping me in cotton. I will not be protected Mulder." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew this would come eventually. He was naturally overprotective of her. He knew that after last night she would be doubly sensitive to any hint of shielding on his part. He knew she could take care of her self. He crossed back to the stove before he answered. "Scully, I know the town better. And if I have to bug out in a hurry I might be able to lose a tail in the roads and side streets either in town or through these mountains. I have familiarity with the land on my side. Besides if it's a trap and they traced that e-mail they might trace us HERE. Being in the chalet isn't necessarily any safer, and since I'll have the van that leaves you and Buster with the woods as a refuge." And he hated the fact. Too many ifs to the whole situation. "You have a point." Scully poked at the eggs on her plate with her fork. "I'd better not get sick from this Mulder." He tried to look relaxed as she put a forkful in her mouth. Tried not to think of the dangers of leaving her here without a vehicle. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "This is actually good. Unhealthy, but good." He bowed mockingly from the waist. "I'd almost swear you thought I couldn't cook." He flipped his own omelet. "I don't do it often, but I CAN do it." He grinned as he brought his plate over to sit opposite her. She began typing a reply message when Mulder saw Buster staring at him. The Dog licked his chops, looked at the eggs and whined. Mulder sighed, cut up his omelet and shoved the plate across the table. Buster dug in happily. Scully tried not to laugh, and not to give in to the urge to complain about a dog eating at the table. Buster would just love hearing that complaint she was sure.
Scrappy turned the laptop with his nose, so Lem could see the e-mail they just received. Forwarded from weirdo central. "Vermont? What the hell are they doing in Vermont?" Lem pulled a map out of the glove compartment and tried doing some quick calculating. A six or seven hour road trip. Might as well start now. Lem pulled away from the hotel parking lot and headed for the highway. "Scrappy, see if you can type coherently enough to tell them I'll meet them at that diner at noon for lunch. I have to get there first." Lem cursed under his breath. Five hours at least on the road. He was definitely getting too old for this shit. His back was sure to pay him back for all the time driving.
Cook had narrowed down the list of hotels from thousands to hundreds. Not good enough, and Webb was already shooting him dirty looks. The tall, dark man had spent half the morning on the phone, and he wasn't giving away who he was speaking with, or specifically what about. It was making him jumpy. As if his nerves weren't frayed already. Knowing he was sharing a room with that murdering son of a bitch. Webb looked at his 'partner' with disgust. He knew research took time, but something felt wrong about the way Cook was approaching things. He didn't know why. There was no evidence that the older man was doing anything but his best. Maybe it was because he had stopped getting his diggs in, had become withdrawn and sullen all of a sudden. Webb chewed on his mustache thoughtfully. His attention was drawn back to the phone, and Director Simm's voice. "So their immediate families seem to check out. I can't keep teams on them at all times, but it looks like they aren't hiding them. As for immediate friends, they don't have many. Those we tracked down are not hiding them. There are a few more names we want to check out. I'll get back to you then. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Webb hung up. There wasn't much he could do while Cook worked, so he turned on the TV and flipped channels till he found a really bad horror movie with Marc Singer. He was to the point where the guy in a bad monster suit appeared to have killed the lead character's pet dog before he gave up. He'd read the book, and the movie was a slap in the face to the author's talents. Cook had managed to ignore the whole thing, as he bent over his lists and kept an eye out for any more credit card or bank activity.
Scully relayed the return e-mail before picking up the dishes. "So we have a few hours to kill. Got any plans?" He gave her an amused half smile. Mulder had finally gotten to sit down and eat a breakfast of his own. "Actually, yes. We can take a walk into the woods. Help me get to know the place." He actually pouted, and she stifled a smile as she finished the dishes up. "Hey, it was YOUR idea I stay here. Knowing which way to go out there might not be a bad thing." He nodded, admitting temporary defeat. " Wouldn't want you falling into the river. Sure. Why not? I'll take you to the old saw mill. It's about three miles north of here along the river. It's been out of operation for fifty years and I wouldn't recommend going into the place but it's interesting. Besides we can make it there and back and still have an hour or so to kill before I have to leave." "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a one track mind?" Scully wiped her hands on a dishtowel and tossed it at his head. "Yeah, but they usually say it's derailed."
The walk was a pleasant one. Mulder was sure to keep them off the major trails and stuck to deer paths. They'd be lost for sure if his memory wasn't what it was. It was actually nice, walking through the early morning woods, feeling Mulder's hand, dry and warm enveloping hers. She savored that, because when this was all over such simple contact would be denied them. They hadn't discussed it. They didn't need to. It was understood that the new dimension to their relationship would have to stay hidden. And if they kept their apartments bug free (She still cursed herself for laughing off Mulder's paranoia) and were very cautious they could make this work. They had to make this work. There was no going back. Buster appeared once more on the trail ahead of them. He was acting like any dog left free in the woods. Sometimes he fell behind, sometimes he moved ahead. They didn't keep track. No need to worry he'd get lost. After an hour and a half leisurely stroll and Mulder pointing out landmarks for her to memorize they came upon the mill. Up until now the sound of the River had been faint, growing as they neared it. Now it was a lovely soft rush of sound. It was almost picturesque. The Mill was half fallen in, and the log chute that had once gone to the river had fallen down in a mass of wood and metal. It looked like part of it may have washed away. Scully let go of Mulder's hand and moved off over the rocky riverbank. She bent to dip her hand into the cold water. And it was cold. "I guess a swim is out of the question." She shook her hand off. "I forgot to pack my speedos." He grinned. "The current's too strong anyway. It used to carry the logs down from the mountain." Scully made her way to the mill, looking at the wreckage of the logging chute. "Isn't this a safety hazard? I mean kids might think it's fun to play around here." "It's not bothered much. I don't think many people know it's back here. Lenny and I discovered it cross country skiing a couple of years ago. Look, no beer bottles or campfire marks.. so no kids have been partying here." Scully moved around the outside of the old Mill. The back wall was leaning in. But a rusted metal awning was still supported by three beams. They most likely stored the equipment there. She looked around the smooth dirt, devoid of rocks and at the semi roof overhead. "Now this would be the place to party. But you're right. No empties." Mulder stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. "Gee Scully, you know how to find teenage party spots? Don't tell me you were a wild child?" Scully laughed. "Sometimes I wish I had been. No, but I used to have to hunt them down because Missy WAS. When dad went into a full rage because she was gone way too long I usually ran off to find her and drag her back before he really blew a gasket." "So basically she prepared you for working with me." His face was carefully neutral. "Yeah, basically." Scully looked at Buster, who was sniffing around the area. "Hey Buster, go play somewhere for a bit will you?" The Dog looked up at her and his tail started to wag fast enough to break the sound barrier. He barked once then trotted off. There was little sign of a limp in his gait now. "Wanna show me what I was missing Mulder?" Scully held out her hand. "Even walking back we still have about an hour to kill..." "Are you proposing we make out like a couple of teenagers under a dilapidated awning?" He took her hand. "You catch on fast." He didn't fight her tug on his arm at all.
Chapter 17. Dana had changed when they got back, and planned on doing some laundry while Mulder was gone. They had managed to get their clothes quite messy. Next time we decide to make love in unusual places we have to bring a blanket, she chided herself. She really hadn't planned on taking it that far. But the whole experience of just being with Mulder was too new, their mutual attraction too great, to stop once they got started. Mulder had gone upstairs to wash up and change as well, but they had decided to do so separately or he might never get out of here and meet this Johnson character. Buster kept looking out the large open window. He looked slightly anxious. Dana called him away and motioned to her Powerbook. "What's wrong? Ever since we got back you've been jumpy." Buster used the now familiar pen. DON'T KNOW. FEEL TIGHT INSIDE. WRONGNESS. "Do you think this meeting of Mulder's is a set up?" She folded her hands on the table in front of her. NO. MEETING GOOD. LEM AND SCRAPPY GOOD. JUST FEEL... "By the prickling of my thumbs..." Dana muttered softly under her breath. SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES. "Do you... do you think that the thing that supposedly escaped with your ancestor is still alive?" Scully felt a chill go up her spine. NO. OUTSIDER DEAD. GONE. IF THEY MAKE ANOTHER, WE'D "How would you know? If they kept as tight a lid on it as they had before..." The keys clicking stopped her as she read. WE'D KNOW. WE'D FEEL IT. INSIDE. Scully wasn't quite sure why she switched off the computer as Mulder came down the stairs. He wore Levis and an open, light denim shirt over a plain white t-shirt. "So do I look inconspicuous?" He held up his arms, and turned. The denim shirt hid the gun tucked into back of his jeans waistband. "It'll do. Though you still look like you were in a bar fight." She cocked her head to the side. The bruise on his cheek was fading to a paler blue with yellowed edges. Colorful to say the least. "So I'll sit alone drinking a beer and looking surly till this guy shows up. I don't know how I'm supposed to know him when he shows though." "Yeah, you sitting alone drinking a beer and acting unsociable will be a stretch for your acting abilities. And he said you'd be able to pick him out." Dana walked with him to the front door. "Have fun, and try not to get shot." He bent to press a fleeting kiss on her forehead before heading out the door and to the van.
Cook looked up at the sound of the phone. Webb grabbed the receiver almost violently. "Whatcha got?" Webb recognized Simm's voice. "We have a possible lead. It seems an old school friend of Mulder's, the photographer - Leonard Kravitz is away on assignment in Greece. However some of the people I sent to check his residence and his winter place reported smoke coming from the winter place. It's a ski chalet in Vermont. Pretty isolated." Webb cursed. Cook was worse than useless after all. "I'll get on it." "I want you, Cook and Hernandez out there right away. There will be a chopper waiting for you at the Scranton Airport. You will meet a team of five there. They will arrive by road. I need this handled quickly and efficiently. Kravitz works for National Geographic, and I don't need to tell you what kind of publicity having you going in there guns blazing will get. Your orders are still to try and get them all alive if possible. A team will be waiting at Barre Hospital to preform the procedure. Do I make myself clear?" "Crystal sir. You can count on me." Webb smiled looking at the dossiers on the hotel bed. Alive... IF possible. Lots of things can go wrong. And he did hate loose ends. "I hope so. Now get moving." "Sir... are you sure Cook wouldn't be more useful here? In case this is a false lead?" Or a solid one for that matter. "If they manage to escape this time having him there will cut down response time. That will be all." The click signaled the end of the conversation. "Pack up Cook, you were off base. We think we found them in Vermont." Webb tossed the older man's suit jacket at him. "Vermont?" Cook's brow furrowed. Shit, shitshitshit. "Yeah, the list of friends and family you discarded. I had it checked out anyway. Bad call buddy." Webb sneered and went to rouse Hernandez.
The blind black man sat in a corner. Dark sunglasses concealing his eyes from view. Every once in a while he would run a hand lightly over his plate and pick up a french fry or take a bite from his burger. He was noticed only in passing, and then only because he was not a regular here. He sat facing the street, his retriever wearing a signature harness with a grip sat beside him. Utterly well behaved as he watched the people that shared the terrace dining area as well as those who passed on the street. The dog whined softly once, and shifted it's weight to brush against it's master just as the tall, dark haired man in denim stepped onto the terrace and took a seat near the building, with his back against the wall and a clear view of the patrons and street as well. The blind man fished out some money from his wallet and dropped it on the table, confident it would cover his meal. Then, taking hold of his guide dog's harness he allowed the animal to lead him to the table where Fox Mulder waited. Mulder looked up, momentarily surprised to see the blind man approach. When the man grabbed the seat next to him without hesitation or missing it Mulder reached behind him to feel the reassuring press of his gun. "You won't need that Mr. Mulder." The man smiled, his white teeth a stark contrast to his dark face. "I'm Lemuel Johnson. And this..." he stroked the head of the retriever at his side, "is Scrappy. Scrappy Doo to be precise." The dog... no, the Dog, actually lifted it's paw to shake, and Mulder didn't know quite why, but he took it. Shook the paw once and let it drop. There were more. It was one thing to have an abstract concept in the back of your head, quite another to be faced with the solid proof. Johnson seemed to be enjoying the dumbfounded expression on Mulder's face. "They are something aren't they? I was there, when Banodyne made the breakthrough. I always liked Einstien. Even when I was sent to hunt him down, I felt for him. Felt a sense of kinship and wonder. That's why I reported him dead and handed in my badge. Scrappy here is the same generation as your friend. He's been helping me try to find your friend since we heard of his misfortune." Mulder tore his eyes away from the Dog at Lem's words. "You hunted him?" "Hunted the other was more like it. I used to be NSA. But I knew if I found the Dog I'd find the Outsider. I was right. But I was too late. You didn't bring him. Good. I might not have respected you if you had." The waitress brought a beer over and set it before Mulder, who handed her a couple of dollars and waved her off. "So how did you get..." He indicated Scrappy. "Hyatt learned to trust me. They have to be adopted out you see. The world is too human based. They need families to care for them and keep their secrets. As a pup Scrappy took a liking to me. He did the choosing really. I was honored. And it is an honor Mr. Mulder. They are clever, but not mean. There has yet to be a bad or mean one born. They are somehow... purer than us. They retain the canine abilities for unwavering loyalty, as well as gaining human compassion. They see into people, and tell if people are good or not. I know I can trust you, Mr. Mulder, because Buster trusts you. I know you aren't holding him against his will, because Scrappy would have warned me if he smelled his fear on you." Mulder looked close to embarrassed. "He's a tricky devil you know. And a smartass." Johnson laughed. the sound startling compared to the thus far hushed conversation. "Mr. Mulder they ALL seem to have a bit of smart ass in them. Must be... genetic." Mulder smiled. Seeing Scrappy had been all the convincing he needed right now. "Come on, I'll take you to him." Lem fell back into his role of blind man as he followed Mulder. "So, Lem... why the hell did you name him Scrappy Doo?" Lem chuckled. "I didn't. His mother did. They all love cartoons. So they name their pups after them. You know Buster's brothers and sisters are named Babs, Plucky, Shirly, Sneezer and Minerva. Their mom has a Tiny Toons fixation."
Scully pulled their clothes out of the dryer and suddenly felt WAY too domestic. "If you think I'm gonna do all your laundry Fox Mulder you are out of you mind... more than generally thought," she muttered. Of course she felt herself smiling a bit smugly as she pulled out the sheets from the bed. The bed they'd shared last night. Bringing the basket into the living room she sat on the couch to fold them. Buster was back at the window. Whining softly. "What is it now?" She dropped the sheets and moved to crouch beside the dog. Looking out the window, she froze. A dark van was coming up the road, and she looked up at the soft whirr of a chopper on silent running. Bother she and Buster quickly backed away from the window. She grabbed her gun from the kitchen table as they both dashed out the back door. Buster was holding back, waiting for her. "The Mill. Go. GO! I'll meet you there." She was too anxious to feel any relief when she saw him bound into the woods, to relitive safety. She took off down the deer path she'd been on only hours before, trying to not leave much of a trail.
Chapter 18. Mulder unlocked the van and looked back to see Lem looking at him strangely. His expression might have been more readable if he weren't wearing the sunglasses. "You borrowed Frohike's van?" At Lem's words Mulder almost dropped his keys. What the hell was going on here? "How do you know..." "The Princes of Paranoid? The tracked down the original Dog within two years of his reported 'death'. They do like digging into things that are none of their business. I had a little talk with them. Between Hyatt, myself and the Dogs we convinced them that making the truth known in this case would only hurt innocent beings, and possibly even AID the forces behind creating the Dog and the Outsider." "They didn't tell me. Why didn't they tell me? They hid what they knew is hearsay and bullshit." Mulder wrenched the door open. He felt Johnson's hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't their secret to share. They gave you what they could. Don't be hard on them. They helped you get away. They arranged for us to meet, and they will be helping me get Buster to where he will be safe. I'd say they've gone above and beyond the call of duty, wouldn't you? Especially for a group of guys who think Elvis is waiting to reappear so he can run for the Democratic office next election." Johnson tossed in his briefcase and let Scrappy climb in first. Mulder managed a wry smile as he moved around and got in the driver's side door. Scrappy had found the mattress and lay down in back. "You have a point. After all everyone knows Elvis will have a better chance running Independent than expect either party to back him." Lem looked at the man who had started the van's engine with a hint of shock, mostly because by the look on his face this guy was SERIOUS.
The chopper landed on the street. Webb jumped out, landing lightly on his feet as Cook followed behind. Hernandez was last out as five men poured out of the van, each with assault rifles. "Lock and load boys." Webb ordered and released the safety on his own gun, chambering the first round. Hernandez followed suit, stone faced. Cook checked his own weapon, and hoped to God he wouldn't have to use it. The chopper took off again, hovering over the house to try to keep watch from above. The five man clean up crew spread out. Three moving to circle the house. Webb's group moved with the other two to smash open the front door. They entered, guns at the ready. Webb took one look at the unfinished laundry on the couch and cursed. "You and you sweep the house." He pointed to the two men from the van. "Cook, go through things here, try to figure out where they could have headed. Hernandez you're with me. We've got to comb these woods." Webb and Hernandez went out the back door. Cook watched the two men inside split, one going through a door that looked like it led to a basement, and the other heading up the stairs. Taking a chance he slipped out the back door then, just in time to see Webb's group disappear into the woods. Two men taking an obvious path the others spreading out. He had to follow Webb. He saw that clearly now. If he sat back in that house and followed orders he'd be less than a man, he'd be just as guilty of murder as Webb was. Falling back on his military training Cook moved carefully into the woods. Staking the stalkers.
Dana's lungs burned for air, and her side was cramping painfully. Running on flat ground was one thing, but she was heading up a slight, but steady incline, moving over little hills and dips, trying not to trip over plant life and rocks. If she was lucky she had a full two minute lead while they searched the house. Her palm was sweating against the gun in her hand. She could no longer see Buster ahead of her. That was good. If she were caught she didn't know where he was. As she ran the pain in her side was only a dull ache compared to the terror in her heart. She wasn't afraid for herself. Ok, admit it Dana, you are afraid for yourself, but you know you haven't been caught yet. She chanced a quick look behind her. Nothing. Her real fear was for Mulder. They had been found and traced. Which most likely meant he had walked into a trap. Had he gotten away? Had he been caught? Was he hurt? Stupid. She chided herself while scanning the almost indistinct path for a sign of the fallen tree Mulder had used as a landmark. There was nothing she could do one way or the other for Mulder right now. She had to concentrate on keeping herself and Buster alive. A tree branch, coming out of nowhere, smacked her chin, leaving a stinging mark to add to her list of complaints. She held up her arm before her as she ran. She knew she'd have to stop soon, to catch her breath or risk just collapsing. She just hoped Buster was clear.
Buster felt the wind in his fur, smelled the rich scent of earth and plants around him, the hint of decay and mustiness only adding to the whole. He was scared, but there was a part of him that recognized this. This running through the forest. Hunt or be hunted. Something primal that shocked him for only a moment. He could reason, knew that he had to stay free, but also had to make sure Dana stayed free as well. He knew they had to stay hidden until the Fox came to help, IF he could come to help. He knew all the logical and rational reasons for his flight, for the jumble of emotions settling right behind his breastbone. But he was also DOG. Even separated from the wolf by several thousand generations there was still a touch of primitive there. Something man and his science couldn't take away. The instinct that made him want to throw his head back and howl at the moon kicked in. Guided his flight. He slowed and the rational part of his mind recognized his fur, now black, would be an advantage. Slowing more Buster began to move in a more graceful way, as he slipped between the trees, blending with the shadows...
In the van Lem turned off the classic rock station Mulder had been playing and looked at the younger man. "So... you had suspicions about Buster before our mutual acquaintances filled in the blanks. What gave him away?" "A bunch of little things. Like digging out my badge and opening it like he was checking me out. The sudden playing of my partner's stereo. But mostly it was his eyes. They were..." "Too damn intelligent." Lem finished for him, nodding his head. "It's their biggest pitfall. They can act like any dog, even enjoy what all dogs do... but anyone looking into their eyes for too long knows there is something different about them. So why did you decide to help him and not turn him in?" Mulder shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "He was... amazing. Once confronted he proved his intelligence and used a computer and picked out the letters. I don't know. It was about awe. It was about finally having proof of the impossible in front of me. Mostly it was that he asked for help." Johnson smiled. "They give absolute loyalty, but they tend to inspire it as well don't they?" Lem looked into the back of the van where Scrappy yawned as if bored by the entire conversation. "Shit!" Mulder veered the van off the road suddenly, driving it part way into a ditch. Lem let out a muffled curse as Mulder got out as if the van were on fire. Lem opened his door and stepped out as well. "Son of a BITCH. I can't believe I fell for your BULLSHIT." Lem was startled to see a gun shoved in his face. "What the..." Scrappy's hackles were up and he had his teeth bared at Mulder. "Move and I blow his fucking head off, I know you can understand me." The Dog took a step back. Just then Lem notices the soft, almost distant whap, whap, whap, whap of a helicopter. A helicopter on silent running. Mulder pointed up, where a black helicopter could just be seen hovering over the trees about two miles ahead. "If either one of them is hurt you die first." Lem looked back at Mulder and saw with chilling certainty his own demise in the younger man's eyes. "Listen to me Mulder... I didn't bring them here. I didn't know where you were staying. They had Cook on your tail, and he's good, the best the NSA has on tracking. I KNOW that because I was originally following them, hoping to intervene if they did catch you. You know Buster. You trust him. Look at Scrappy... he's pissed yeah, but only because he wants to protect me right now." Lem saw Mulder's wary eyes flicker to the Dog standing by the van. He had stopped snarling, but his hackles were still up. And the animal's dark eyes were both angry and disappointed. "I knew Frohike's van... I knew his name. And Langly and Byers... do you really think they'd let someone who was a security risk that close to them? They have surveillance cameras in their freaking BATHROOM. And while you are here holding ME at gunpoint they are either dragging off your partner and Buster or hunting them down." Mulder's gun wavered. "They need our help Mr. Mulder. Do you really think you can take on a helicopter and as many men as they most likely have at that house by your self?" The gun went down. "First we have to approach the place from the woods, see if they've been caught." Mulder stepped into the trees, moving swiftly, not caring if Lem caught up or not. "And if they haven't?" Lem asked no one in particular as he stooped to unbuckle Scrappy's harness. "Keep up with him if you can boy. I'll follow as fast as I can." Scrappy wagged his tail once and ran after Mulder. Lem took a few lungfuls of air, thanked God silently that Mulder hadn't shot him, then started a loping run. "I'm getting WAY to old for this shit." He muttered under his breath as he tried to judge the direction Mulder and Scrappy had gone by the road and the position of the chopper.
Chapter 19. Lem looked up to see the forest's leafy canopy hiding him and his companions from the helicopter, even though the wind whipped by it's blades stirred the leaves. Ahead Mulder was crouched behind a tree. Scrappy was laying low to the ground, the low brush effectively hiding him from the beautiful wooden A-frame chalet just ahead. Two men with assault rifles were combing the yard. Lem moved quietly through the underbrush, hoping the soft whirr of the aircraft would mask any sounds of his approach. He got within two feet of Mulder. Mulder turned quickly, his gun up and aiming at Lem, who held up his hands, including the one holding his own weapon. "Damnit, if I was gonna kill your honkey ass you'd have been dead fore you turned." Lem hissed softly. Mulder didn't relax, but he lowered his gun. In a voice just as hushed he announced, "I only see two, and maybe the pilot of the chopper. No sign of Buster or Dana." One of the two dark uniformed men turned from the edge of the woods and called out across the yard. "Where the hell did Cook run off to? You sure he aint in the house?" "You tryin to say I can't pull a proper search? The fuckin place is empty man. Maybe Cook found something and went to chase down Webb. OUR job is to stay here and secure the place." The other shouted back as he eyed the forest warily. Mulder seemed to be chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, then his eyes brightened. He looked at Scrappy. "You think you can get close enough for Larry and Moe to spot you and chase you in here?" The Dog tilted his head and peered through the brush with narrowed eyes. He shook his tail. "Well?" Mulder looked impatient. "Tail wag means yes." Lem whispered into Mulder's ear. "Ambush right? Outta sight of the air support. Ok, but that flyboy is gonna know something's up when they don't come back." "Good, maybe he'll radio whoever is in the woods. I know where Scully and Buster are headed. We might bluff them back here and give them a better chance of escape. Either way we have to go after them." Lem nodded, unable to fault the boy's logic. "Scrappy, wait till we get in position then run close enough to be seen, bark for their attention and head back this way." Mulder retreated and put his back to an aged oak tree. Lem stayed where he was and hid behind a maple. He would let the target pass so that he'd be covered front and back. Scrappy moved, three loud barks cut through the air. "Shit! It's the dog." Lem could hear the rifleman fairly well. "Webb this is Base two, we have a visual on the dog. SHIT, he's running. I'm in pursuit. Repeat I'm in pursuit." Scrappy sped past Lem's position as did the gunman. He must have caught sight of Lem out of the corner of his eye because he spun, bringing up his gun. "Drop it." Mulder's voice was soft, but deadly. Lem grinned as he brought up his own weapon, already in hand,and took aim. "One move - twitch so much as a muscle I don't tell you to - and you turn into tree fertilizer. I SAID drop the gun." The rifle hit the forest loam. "Now call your friend and tell him you have the dog but need some help dragging him back. I'm warning you, any tricks, and you won't have time to blink before I blow your head off. Cooperate and you just might live through this." Their hostage glared daggers at Lem as he was facing him. The man moved one hand slowly for the radio strapped to his shoulder. "Base one, this is base two. I have the dog, but he's putting up a fight. I'm gonna need some help if we're gonna bring him in alive."
A quick rap to the head with a rock had both men unconscious. Mulder watched Lem pick up one of the rifles and checked it. "I think I'm gonna trade in, you?" He looked at Mulder who was tying both unconscious men to a tree with nylon cord they had had on them. "Nope. I prefer my own, thanks. If I drop that one it would trip me." He smiled tensely, but Lem missed the joke. "Nice of them to come prepared." He finished the last knot with a savage jerk. He really didn't much care if they couldn't feel their hands when they woke up. Lem nodded his approval then did something totally unexpected. He drew his Sig Sauer and shot each man, once in the outer thigh. Their legs jumped with the shot but both men remained unconscious. Shocked, Mulder shoved the older man hard, sending him to the ground. "What the hell did you do that for?" "They'll live, even walk again, but when their buddy upstairs figures out where they are and unties them this is two less we have to worry about following US into the woods. Which reminds me we better get outta here before he lands or calls for backup." Mulder still didn't know what to make of Lem. He made sense, and dammit the gunshots WOULDN'T do permanent damage, but shooting men who were out... He shook his head and decided to keep an eye on his supposed ally. Without further discussion he moved off into the woods, heading for the Mill.
Dana had stopped, taking in great, gulping lungfuls of air that seared her throat and lungs. She had to rest. She had to have gained enough of a lead to take a few seconds to breathe normally again before continuing. She'd completely lost sight of Buster, and was glad. She was certain he was ahead of her. He was safe. She looked around her and got her bearings. Not too much further. She was almost to the mill.
"Base one, Base two, report." Webb held his radio on one hand, his gun in the other. "Base one, Base two report." Two minutes of radio silence after a presumed sighting of the dog. The radio crackled to life. "Sir they haven't come out of the woods yet." The chopper pilot reported. "Can you see anything?" Webb asked. The line opened again. "Negative. Just leaves. I told you summer was the worst time for air visibility." Webb looked at the three men with him. "Sommers, keep an eye to our rear, we might have trouble coming from behind. Any sign of our quary yet?" Thompson looked up from where he squatted in this miserable excuse for a trail. "Sneaker print, looks like someone running. They stuck to leaves and rocks most likely, but hit bare dirt here and over there. Small. Probably the woman." "Any sign of the dog?" "No sir."
Clear! Dana Scully would have laughed if she could. The second most welcome sight in the world was just a hundred yards ahead. The crumbling Mill. She leaned forward, hands on her thighs and just rested. Waited until sounds other than her heartbeat filtered through her ears. Till her side was only a dull ache instead of a sharp pain. Looking along the rocky riverbank she saw no sign of Buster. But then he was most likely hiding. "Buster?" Her call sounded weak in her own ears. "BUSTER!" That was better. No sound. No movement. Shit, where could he be? Please, she prayed, don't let him have gotten lost in the woods.
Buster moved back, finding a good hollow in the earth. By the smell it had once been a burrow for a fox family. He felt his lips curl up, not in a snarl, but a grin. Talk about good omens. Joe had believed in Omens. It had rubbed off a little. He had seen Dana move past him, and made no move to alert her to his presence. Wait for them to pass, then come from behind... He didn't have long to wait. He was surprised at how quickly they had tracked her. They must have an expert with them. Damn, she had no more than a fifteen minute lead at best. Seeing the four dark men with guns stalk past, nervous, almost as if they EXPECTED him to jump them from behind. Damn, damn, damn... this might be harder then he thought. He waited a five more minutes, till they were certainly well out of sight before getting ready to move. Before he did however he saw something else. Another man, keeping low, eyes focused forward. He looked like he was hunting the men who were hunting Dana and himself. He certainly didn't act like he was part of the previous group. Once that man passed, Buster slunk out of the burrow... following silently.
"Buster?" Scully peered under a section of Mill wall that had fallen away. The inside stand of mold, rot, and the excrements of animals who'd made their homes inside at various times. She pulled back from the smell a bit. She'd gone over the surrounding woods and the outside of the mill so far, and still there was no sign of Buster. She stepped cautiously over the debris of the log chute, climbing up onto one of the metal braces, gaining enough elevation to get a better look around. To see a bit further both up and down river. "Hands in the air Ms. Scully." The rough voice startled her and she spun, almost losing her balance. Four men stood at the treeline, all carrying rifles. SHIT! Scully raised her hands. "Now toss the gun in our direction... carefully." The man who spoke seemed to be in charge, his rifle was trained on her. She looked around for any option. The remains of this chute made lousy cover. Another round of curses went through her mind - an impressive string only the offspring of a sailor could formulate on such short notice. Nevertheless she threw down her gun. Then another voice cut in. "Drop it Webb!"
Cook had him in his sights. He didn't care about the three assault team members. They wouldn't move without Webb's command. He smiled as he commanded Webb to drop his gun. "I know you killed those people in Annapolis. Right now I have a my gun aimed right at your head. Drop your guns, all of you, or Jackie boy gets another hole in his head." Buster took in the scene before him. The man he'd been behind was NOT with the bad guys. It made his job a bit easier. The balding short human had his gun on the tall, dark man, and the tall dark man had his gun on Dana, as did the other three men. "I said DROP IT." The rifleman to the side began to swing around. Cook's gun automatically swung to face this threat. That was when the man on the other side turned to enter the fray. Buster was only peripherally aware of Dana diving for her gun. He was going for the second rifleman. Just as the second man brought his gun on the short man the short man fired twice at the man who first moved, sending him flying backwards. The second man only caught sight of a black mass of fur and sharp teeth. He didn't have a chance to scream before his was knocked off his feet by Buster's weight even as canine teeth sank into his throat. Webb, checking what was going on behind him in a second's glance saw his target dive off the metal support she'd been on, going for her gun. He fired once, twice, and was rewarded by the sight of her body jerking back once, then again. He saw the tell tale spray of blood before before she spun and landed in the river. She was quickly pulled under by the swift current.
Chapter 20. Dana felt as if she'd been punched not once, but twice. One blow catching her shoulder, the other grazing her side. The force spun her body and she was helpless against it. Her mind barely registered - Oh my God, I've been shot- before icy water engulfed her.
The gunshots echoed weakly throughout the woods. Mulder paused for a second, hearing them. Then all precepts of stealth disappeared as he headed out at a full run. Lem saw the way the younger man was moving. By the way he moved Lem could tell he was made to run. Lem knew he'd never be able to catch him. "Scrappy, go... keep him out of trouble." The Dog wagged it's tail then tore off after Mulder.
The third gunman drew a bead on the dog that had just ripped the throat out of his cohort, only to go down as Cook shot him as well. Webb swung around and landed a punch against Cook's temple, sending the smaller man to the ground, his glasses flying off into the woods. He aimed to shoot his former partner but Cook's legs tangled with Webb's and he pulled them out from under him. Each man locked their free hand around the wrist of their opponent's gun hand. The struggle began.
Buster was running for the water. No. No. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to Dana. Not to sweet, kind, good hearted Dana. The Dog dove into the water as he saw her surface briefly, sputtering before being pulled under again. He swam along with the current and fought going under himself until he was right next to her. He saw her shirt just below the water. Buster dove. He felt the pulling in his injured side and ignored it. He couldn't see very well through the muddy water, but he felt his nose brush against fabric and he locked his teeth down. Kicking and swimming for all he was worth he broke the surface. He felt water fill his nose, but refused to let go, feeling it burn his lungs. He tried not to release the hold he had on Dana's shirt as he choked, trying to swim with her to the shore. He tasted her blood on the shirt. What had he done? He might have gotten her killed.
Mulder saw two men up ahead, struggling for their guns. The larger man smashed his head into the nose of the smaller one, sending him down, momentarily stunned. "Freeze! Federal Agent!" Mulder brought his own Smith and Wesson to bear. The larger man sneered and brought his gun up to aim at Mulder. Mulder pulled the trigger, watching part of the man's head disappear as he fell backwards and off his opponent. The smaller man sat up, gingerly holding his smashed nose. He looked at Mulder and tossed his own gun into the woods. "Your Parder. He shod 'er." His words were nasal around his broken nose. "She fell indo da river. Wend under. The Dog... dink he wend afder..." Mulder looked to the river and his heart froze. He saw, down river, the black shape of Buster trying to pull something to shore. Then both the Dog and it's burden went under. "SCULLY!" He ran for the water, tossing his gun aside without thought as he dove in. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose her now. Not now, so soon after really finding her. He heard another splash not far from him as he swam with sure, practiced strokes, bringing him closer to where the two had disappeared. Scrappy was by his side. The dog propelling itself awkwardly, but swiftly, to the same goal. There. He saw them bob at the surface briefly before going under once more. He dove. His hand caught a fistful of fur and he pulled. His other hand grasped an arm. Holding both burdens he kicked for the surface, fighting his own burning lungs and fatigue as well as the current. As soon as he broke the surface he felt Buster pulled from his grip. Scrappy had his 'cousin's' collar and was dragging the limp form to the shore. Mulder locked his arm under Scully's and followed suit. As Mulder pulled her limp form over the rocky ground he saw Lem and the man with the broken nose running at them. Mulder frantically felt for a pulse along Dana's throat. She was ghastly pale. Blood stained her shirt and was pooling thinly beneath her on the rocks. He couldn't find a pulse. Jesus! No Pulse. "Dana, don't you leave me. Not now... Please, baby, not now." Laying her down he turned her head and pushed in her diaphragm, making a U motion and forcing the water out. He saw water spew from her mouth and felt the first stirring of hope push past the desperation. Then he began CPR. He cleared her airway and tilted her head back before trying to pass his own breath into her, a mockery of a kiss. Nothing. Once more, Mulder watched her chest rise only as he forced the air into her. Lem was working on Buster, pushing on the dog's chest, trying to pump the water out of his lungs. Then the man with the broken nose was there. He had his hands positioned on Scully's chest and he began pressing down, counting as he went. Mulder only barely realized he was working the buddy system. He compressed "1, 2, 3, 4, 5!" Mulder bent to exhale, watching her chest rise as he breathed for her. One breath, one desperate attempt to force her lungs to breathe air again. Then the other man compressed again. As he watched this stranger trying to get the blood flowing he had a horrible flashback, a perfect memory of himself working on another small body by another riverbank. It hadn't been CPR that had saved that victim. Then he heard the most welcome sound he ever had. Scully choking. He might laugh about it later, but hearing her struggle to breath was a relief. He turned her on her side where she emptied water from her lungs. She shook terribly as she sputtered and coughed, then drew in a huge gasp of air before falling into another coughing fit. He looked up at the man with the broken nose. He didn't know him, but he had never felt more grateful. He felt himself crying, weeping for joy. He held her as she filled her lungs with air again. His eyes finally falling on Lem, still pushing against Buster's side. Scrappy was sitting at the dog's head, whining softly.
Dana Scully woke up to find Mulder seated beside her. As he noticed her eyes open one of the brightest smiles she had ever seen from him lit his face. She felt him grip her hand. She recognized the sterile environment of a hospital room. "Where am I?" Her voice sounded worn, even to herself. "Georgetown University Hospital. You were brought here as soon as you were deemed stable. You scared the hell out of me back there." He reached up and she felt his fingers trace the curve of her cheek. "What happened?" She licked her lips and took stock of the damage. She was feeling surprisingly little pain, but it was fairly hard to think straight. Ahhh... drugs could be nice sometimes. "When I got there Buster was trying to pull you to shore, but he got pulled under as well. I had met up with Lem Johnson and he and I had arrived to find you were having a party without me." His eyes were still haunted, and she could see him blaming himself for leaving her alone. How long had she been out? How long had he been playing the game of self-blame. "Uh... We both have some time off. It seems we really did have a murder witness with us. At least that's what the report says, and what one Harold Cook has sworn to. He's pressed murder and conspiracy to murder charges on some pretty high up people in the NSA. He's given sworn testimony, but by the time arrests were to be made everyone he could finger was conveniently dead, including the regional director of the NSA. It was supposedly suicide. Um.... Our murder witness has since disappeared himself." Scully was completely lost. "What are you talking about?" "One of the people tracking us wasn't into murder and coverups Scully. He tried to stop it as best he could. His specialty was tracking people who don't want to be found, so my guess is he knew when he pressed charges he'd be a dead man. Knowing how to find people also lets you learn how not to be found." Mulder seemed slightly amused by that. "Maybe you should tell me all about what officially happened when I can think straight." She sighed, and sank into the hospital bed, closing her eyes. "I am so tired." "You're mom will be here soon. She's been coming every day for the past three days." "Three days?" Her eyes shot back open. "Gunshot to the shoulder, flesh wound along your rib. They just took you off oxygen yesterday. You just want to compete to see which of us can run the highest hospital bill. You can't fool me." He winked at her, and she felt herself smile in response. "By the way... I think your mother... I think she knows. About us I mean. I didn't say anything but..." Scully chuckled softly. "My mom is a very observant woman, and she probably went home and did a jig. She likes you Mulder." Her smile faded. "I have to thank Buster, not only for bringing us together, but for saving my life. Where is he? Did this Johnson character get him somewhere safe?" Mulder's eyes looked slightly pained but he pasted a smile on his face for her. "Later. Rest now. I want you healed up and home as soon as possible. I've been contenting myself with my video collection but it just isn't the same." "I knew you just wanted me for my body." She shook her head. "Well... I have to admit, it's a very nice body, when it isn't full of holes. But I kinda like the mind and soul that goes with it. Oh and look, " he ran his fingers lightly around the gauze bandage on her shoulder, "now we have matching scars." "Better then a tatoo." She smiled as her eyes fluttered shut once again, and sleep overtook her.
Epilogue: Mulder held the door to her apartment open for Scully. She walked in for the first time in weeks and was greeted by the wonderful smell of... lasagna. "Mulder what's going on? She turned to face him as he closed the door behind him. "Well I called those exterminators we discussed and your apartment is now free of bugs. Don't worry, I was here while they worked. Frohike didn't get near your underwear drawer." He grinned. "And I came by to make sure you didn't have to worry about dinner your first night back." Margret Scully stepped out of the kitchen. "Your dinner is in the oven." She finished wiping her hands on a dishrag. "Now I've got to be going." Scully's shock at seeing her mother emerge from her kitchen was quickly overcome. "You didn't have to mom." "I know that,. But I'm your mother. It's a mothers joy to do little things for her children." She smiled and Dana noticed her mother looking at Fox as well when she said this. "Well... at least stay for dinner." "Nope. I have plans. So do you. Now the lasagna won't be ready for about an hour. I'll leave you two alone to catch up on... work... or whatever. It's great to see you home and well darling." Margret kissed Dana's cheek. "And it's always nice to see you too, Fox." She patted Mulder's cheek as she swept past and collected her purse from by the door. "Just don't keep her up TOO late." She winked and closed the door on Dana's shocked "MOTHER!" Mulder just shrugged and moved into the kitchen. With a childish curiosity he opened the oven to see the lasagna. Then he noticed the bottle of wine on the kitchen table. "What's this?" He picked it up. No Label other then a hand written 'W. Scully 1986' Dana took the bottle. "It's one of Billy's wines. My brother has made wine-making his hobby for years now, and he's got a talent for it." She handed it back. "Corkscrew is in the top drawer. Open it up. Mom obviously left it here for us." "Um... with your medication should you..." Scully raised a delicate eyebrow. "Bill's wines are very light Mulder. Besides I'll only have one glass. I already HAVE a mother." Mulder smirked and fetched the corkscrew while Scully leafed through her backed up mail. She came across one letter in unfamiliar handwriting. The postmark was from California. She opened it carefully and smiled at the picture that fell out. It was a photo of a group of dogs. All Retrievers, and all, but one, Golden. The one in the center, next to a retriever with greying fur, was a single black Dog. All the Dogs, from the greying one to the puppies frolicking to one side seemed to be grinning. Dana counted, twenty two in this shot. Dana was certain the greying dog in the center was Einstein. The First Dog, as Buster had called him, capitalizing the words with reverence. Dana smiled at the picture and handed it to Mulder after he removed the wine cork "Listen to this Mulder. Dear friends, Our mutual friend has returned to his family. He is recovering well, and his lungs have cleared up to the point where he was chasing after some of the puppies. He's met a cousin who had come in with her family for a minor celebration, and I'm pretty sure it's love at first sight. If it is, it will only be the third union between 'equals' in their family history. The previous two have proven to be bonds as strong as any WE might establish. Lucky Dog. Lucky world. We need more of them. His new friend is working out just fine, and was deeply honored to be chosen as his protector. Mr. Baker has been employed at Hyatt Real Estate as a computer consultant and Data Processor. He's also proven an adept hand at poker, he even managed to beat the Johnsons. Which is no small feat. He says he doesn't much miss his old nose. He hopes all is well with you, and assures you that Our Friend is in good hands. BTW, he has your e-mail address Ms. Scully, so don't be surprised if you hear from either of them soon. They were both quite worried about you. With respect, Samuel Hyatt." Mulder smiled at the picture. It had been a close call. Johnson's knowledge of veterinary medicine was minimal at best. But shortly after Scully had rejoined the world of the living Buster had begun coughing up water. All of them somehow made it to the van and got away. Cook explained what he could as they drove. Much as they were worried about Scully and Buster they didn't stop at a hospital until they were in New York state. Johnson had taken Buster to a nearby animal hospital, where Buster's black coat came in handy. The vet never thought to report a black mixed breed. Mulder and Scully had not seen Buster again. They had seen Johnson and Cook, and with them Mulder concocted one of the biggest campaigns of disinformation he's ever taken part in. Cook was willing to testify, so he became the witness they had supposedly run off with to protect. Any mention of Buster was kept out of the report Mulder had handed to Skinner. Mulder poured the wine and held out Scully's glass, enjoying the electric tingle as her hand brushed over his. "To Buster." He raised his glass slightly. "To Buster, may he sire many puppies." Scully grinned and sipped at the fruity red wine. "How's your shoulder doing?" Mulder's tone was conversational, but his eyes were almost glowing. "I haven't put it to the test yet. But... I think I need you to kiss my side to make it better." She managed to keep a straight face as she sipped her wine. Mulder took the wine glasses and set them on the table, before sweeping down to claim Scully's mouth in a kiss. She opened to him instantly, wanting him as much as he wanted her. They tasted the wine on each other and shared their breath. Scully shivered as Mulder's tongue filled her mouth, dueling with hers before exploring her teeth, the roof of her mouth, her lips. She answered him in kind, wrapping one arm around his neck to hold him close. His left hand cradled the base of her head as his right stroked slowly down her side, sending a shiver through her. He broke the kiss, leaving her both thankful for air and disappointed at the loss of contact. "Are you sure? I mean, you haven't completely healed. This can wait..." His eyes held the sweet combination of concern and desire. "I'm sure Mulder. If we do anything that hurts I'll be sure to tell you." She reached forward to lightly cup his cheek. He turned his head to kiss the center of her palm, sending a warm tingle through her arm. Her thumb caressed his cheek, now devoid of the dark bruise. She smiled suddenly. "You know, this relationship may be hazardous to our health, every time we make love one of us is wounded." "I suppose it's better than being wounded BECAUSE we're making love." He kissed her lips softly, his hands undoing the buttons of her blouse. "I think your mother said we have an hour." Scully twisted out of his arms and went to the stove, turning the heat down a bit. "Now we have a bit more. You better make it count." He held out his hand. She took it and allowed him to lead her into her bedroom. Once inside he kissed her again, a possessive, claiming kiss. He finished unbuttoning her blouse and let it fall to the floor and he undid the fastening of her bra. His mouth moved over her throat, his soft lips barely brushing her. His tongue, however, was hot and wet as it danced across her skin. She began undoing the buttons of his shirt as well. Her hands were shaking in response to the sensations Mulder was making course through her body. She cursed softly as she worked on the last of the buttons, not aided in the least by Mulder, whose incredibly sensual mouth was too busy exploring her collarbone. She almost laughed. She was unflinching when facing possible aliens, mutants and the ire of her superiors and what makes her lose it? A horny partner whose mouth and hands were capable of the most amazing things. She released his shirt when he pulled her bra straps off of her arms. Chuckling softly he pulled his shirt over his head, still half buttoned. She reached for his pants, allowing her hands to brush against him as she undid the fastenings. Before she could pull them down he backed her up so that the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed. He slid his body down hers as he went to his knees in front of her. The delicious friction of him sliding down her body sent an aching heat through her to pool in her center. He undid her pants and slid them off, followed by her underwear. His arms wrapped around her, his hands holding her shoulders - avoiding the still healing gunshot wound - kept her from moving as his mouth began to rain light kisses on her breasts. Once he had completely covered each pale mound with the feathery brush of his lips he graced the hardened tips with a single brush each. Then she felt it. The searing wetness of his tongue following the outer curve of her right breast, gliding over her hot skin. He left a cooling trail behind as he spiraled inward, completely bathing that breast before flicking his tongue over the peak several times, making her moan. She felt him start the same treatment on her left breast and her knees shook. His arms tightened around her, holding her up as his mouth seduced her. Feeling his tongue pass rapidly over her nipple, teasing it further inflamed that yearning center of her. Her fingers were laced in his hair, feeling the short strands tickle her palms as she tried to force his mouth where she wanted him, needed him to be. When he at last took one nipple into his mouth. He pinched it lightly between his teeth before suckling. At that she was melting. Her insides turned to molten fluidity. She felt the wetness at her core immediately followed by a tightening bringing a small cry from her. A tiny orgasm took her. She felt his mouth leave her and she mewled a protest. She looked down to see him looking up at her, a cocky grin on his face. "Was that what I think it was?" he asked her, his eyes sparkling. "Shut up and don't stop," she whispered. He moved to the other breast, working it as he had the first. Dana Scully had heard the term 'putty in someone's hands' before, but she had never understood precisely what the expression meant until that moment. He eased her back on the bed so that she lay down, her knees draped over the edge. His arms slid out from under her caressing her sides - missing the line of small stitches along her right bottom rib - sliding over her hips, along the front of her thighs. Then each hand cupped a knee, fingers teasing the backs before pulling them further apart. Opening her legs. She felt him running his mouth over her body, kissing, nipping, licking along her ribs, only a feather light series of lip brushes over her flesh wound and the briefest of pauses before his hands caressed her legs. His naked chest moved against her, she could feel the fabric of his pants between her thighs as he knelt before her. His tongue dipped into her navel then swirled a circle around it. His mouth pressed lower. The weight his hands were at the top of her thighs, against her abdomen. Felt his thumbs move to spread her folds just before his tongue traced their outline. She gasped and arched her back. She felt the fingers of one of his hands gliding down where her leg joined her body before stroking her. Two long fingers press into her as his tongue moved over her, lapping at her, teasing her center as his fingers began to move in and out. His other hand slid up her body to cup her breast, teasing the peak and caressing the flesh. The rhythm of his stroking fingers, the workings of his tongue made Scully helpless. She couldn't do anything but writhe under his ministrations. She felt the wave wash over her. Drowning her. Her thighs tightened around his head as her muscles clenched. She bit back the scream that leaped to her throat as voluptuous pulses of ecstasy swept through her. Her limbs were heavy. Her body completely relaxed as her breathing slowly returned to normal. A few seconds ago she wasn't sure if she would ever recover. She felt Mulder move away and looked down to see him removing his pants. God he was beautiful. All smooth lines and grace. He had the lean body of a great hunting cat, and the hungry look in his eyes at this moment would have rivaled any such animal's. Something within Scully quivered unsure if she could survive any more, but more than willing to find out. Mulder leaned over to scoop her up in his arms as if she were a small child. He moved her further up on the bed, setting her down gently. He lowered his body on top of hers. Supporting himself on his elbows she felt the full length of him pressing against her, his arousal laying between her thighs hot and hard. With their size difference he could cover her completely. For a fleeting moment she realized just how easy it would be for him to hurt her. The thought was accompanied by the absolute surety that he never would, not willingly anyway. He nuzzled her neck and she felt enough strength in her arms to wrap them around him, to stroke him from buttocks to shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin, the flow of muscle and sinew, to acknowledge to restrained power there. He groaned against her neck, his lips faltering in their exploration. Smiling to herself she did it again, then allowed her hands to roam. She bent her head to kiss his shoulder, tasting the thin sheen of sweat there. He curled into her, rubbing himself against her curls and gasping against her skin. He pulled his head up and looked into her eyes. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" His voice was rough over the words. "I have some inkling, yes." She smiled up at him as she arched her back, pressing and moving against his length. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. When she stopped he opened them again. She loved his eyes. They were so expressive. Even when he wore his most indifferent mask, his eyes told her all she needed to know. The most beautiful combination of colors came from their hazel depths. From the most vivid green to soft brown to a velvet black - like they were now. She kissed him, tasting his mouth, herself, the sunflower seeds he'd eaten earlier, her brother's wine. His tongue slid sinuously against hers. His lips pressed harder, almost bruising as his tongue invaded her, explored her, teased her. He curled against her again and she broke away. "Please..." He nodded and his knee nudged her legs apart. She bent and parted her legs as he positioned himself. With one smooth surge forward he filled her. The friction delicious, the sensation alone unbearable. He kissed the underside of her chin as she arched up to meet him, throwing her head back. Her hands flowed over him as he moved. Each slow thrust drawing a whimper from her and an answering gasp from him. His movements increased and he rotated his hips with each downward thrust, filling her and rubbing against her core at the same time. As the pace increased she felt it building again. His thrusts became shallower but faster. His head was tucked at her shoulder she felt the soft kiss through the gauze covering her shoulder, his breath hot against her neck. "Dana," He said her name like an invocation, a prayer, "Come for me, again." His words were soft. She was close, so close... She looked at him as he moved his head to face her. "I love to see you face when you come. To hear your voice break on my name." His voice was strained, but his eyes were sincere. Desire and love flowed from him. "Mulder, Fox..." She gasped and he surged forward again. "Fox I'm almost..." And she was there. Once more falling into the vortex of sensation, of complete pleasure. She convulsed around him as she cried his name, his first name. He still thrust into her as she came, prolonging it, drawing it out for an eternity. She cried out with the beauty, the glory of it. "Dana, "His breath curled around her ear, her name an endearment. "Danaaaa." He cried out as he came, spilling himself into her. Exhausted they lay together. He rolled , still joined to her, so that she lay draped over him, limp and unmoving. She knew he was afraid of crushing her, or further injuring her shoulder. Alone, together - basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking - they could feel perfect happiness and contentment. If only for a little while. Knowing with absolute surety that come what may, they were loved. Somewhere in the world a Dog was wagging his tail. The End |