Title: Dogged Determination III: Pandora's Box
Author: Rhondda Lake
Written: April 1997
Series: Dogged Determination
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: Oh MA... do I have to? Ok... what do a California Surfer, October 13th and a furry woodland creature all have in common? They own the rights to the X-Files. Jackie St. George belongs to Sheryl Martin and makes her guest appearances with permission. The story is mine though.
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance.

Summary: Alien DNA, a genius teenager and secrets from the past all end up interrupting Mulder and Scully's life just as Scully discovers some surprising news.

Thanks - To Deirdre Warshall, Amy Clayborn, Mary Ruth Keller, Nancy Lemieux and Cheryl Deluca for giving me some help with the science involved.

Thanks to Sheryl "The Dragon" Martin for allowing me to borrow Jackie for my own nefarious purposes.

Chapter 1 - Of Dark And Light, Mysteries Cried Out

Cleveland, Ohio
Office of Edward Kline, P.I.

The young woman fidgeted in her seat, yet met the eyes of the private detective with an unwavering gaze. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie Kline looked the girl over. Her case wasn't really that unusual on the surface and she'd provided him with a lead that would make his job a little easier. What was unusual was her age and who was footing the bill. Her father. In these cases that was rare.

The young woman before him was seventeen. She looked older but it was mostly in the confident air she surrounded herself with. The slight nervous fidget was the first sign he'd seen of any insecurity in her.

She was also one of the loveliest clients he had. She might be jail bait but nothing could stop a man from looking, even if he wanted to smack himself for it later.

She was tall and it was most likely awkward for her. She had to be five eleven or so. The long hair flowing to the middle of her back was the red brown of rich mahogany shot through with hints of gold and darker browns. Her eyes, bright and alert, were hazel, shifting from one color to the next with the slightest change in mood. Her current anxiety turning them a dark chocolate. Her build wasn't exactly lascivious. On the contrary, she looked like a dancer. Of course dancers weren't usually that tall nor did they carry with them the faint scent of formaldehyde.

"Maybe. I just wanted you to know what I've found so far." He pulled out a file. "I was able to find records of your birth in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

However, the records have been sealed. I can't get ANYTHING other than that a Connie McKenzie WAS admitted to the Community Medical Center's Maternity ward February tenth. They won't release any more. No matter how nicely I asked or threatened. So our next best lead is going out there and retrieving whatever is in the safe deposit box."

The girl looked thoughtful. "We could go this weekend. I can have some friends give me their notes so I won't miss too much. Daddy won't object."

Mr. Kline looked at the signed check on his desk, payment for his time so far in attempting to locate this girl's birth mother. Nope, daddy didn't seem to object at all.

Kline couldn't figure that out. Most adoptive parents were at least a little resentful of this kind of search, viewing it as a rejection of them, not as a search for personal justification. And most of these type of cases he'd dealt with did not involve a kid who had graduated High School at fifteen and were currently in their second year of pre-med. She was pretty, beyond intelligent, and she seemed to have it all together in the personality department so her father's open support was confusing.

Or maybe it was where she got some of her confidence. If he had instilled that in her he had plenty of his own.

"If you clear it with your father, then we, the three of us, will go this weekend," Kline agreed.

Her father had to come, or some other 'adult'. She was young and pretty and a client. He didn't need the crap traveling alone with her would bring.

She smiled brightly and shook his hand. She had all the faith in the world that he'd find her birth mother. Kline just hoped she wouldn't be disappointed. He'd tried to explain that. No matter what the letter said, the woman MAY not want anything to do with her. Hope Jamison had just shrugged and smiled, telling him she'd deal with that when it came.

When the girl left he sat back and waited, knowing full well he'd have a second visitor. He was right.

"What did you tell her?" the man asked even before he had the office door fully closed. He took a drag off his cigarette and looked down his nose at Kline.

"The truth. That I got stonewalled by the hospital staff." Kline gestured to the seat across his desk that the girl had just vacated. The other man didn't acknowledge the gesture. "Why is it so important that she not find her birth mother?"

"That doesn't concern you." The man tamped out his cigarette in Kline's little tin ashtray. "What concerns you is fifty thousand dollars."

"You don't strike me as the kind to normally buy people off." Kline leaned back in his chair, rubbing along his nose with a right hand obtrusively missing a ring and little finger. 'No... you usually deal with things a bit more... permanently, don't you,' he thought to himself.

The man didn't move, no expression passed his lined face. Kline knew people though and he knew this kind. He presented a mystery of his own.

"So why buy me off?" 'If you were dead, she'd just go to another investigator. Leaving a trail of bodies would be... inconvenient at best,' Kline reasoned with himself. But just who did this guy work for, and what did he have to do with Hope Jamison?

The man didn't answer. He just stared, his face devoid of expression.

"I'll tell you what I will do." Kline made up his mind. In his twenty years on the force he had never taken a bribe. The gunshot that had ruined his gun hand, and with it his days as a cop, had NOT ruined his integrity. "I'll treat our conversations with client confidentiality. But I'm not gonna play your game. Take your money, and leave now, before this gets ugly."

The man calmly lit another cigarette. "You have no idea how ugly this can get Mr. Kline. I'll leave the option open for you. And I am going to hold you personally responsible for that young woman's safety." Was the last a threat against Hope or against him, Kline wondered. The man left the office quietly, only the haze and odor of his cigarettes to witness that he had been there at all.

Delmark BioMed
Cleveland, Ohio

It had been a long day, and his eyes were playing tricks on him. They had to be.

Dr. Rob Jamison looked away from the results he'd finally gotten back from a test he'd run two week's earlier.

In his five years with Delmark BioMed he had never seen anything like this.

And he'd looked at thousands of DNA strands in those years. Thousands of carefully numbered, little boxes, both of the antique tin manufacture and the more up to date plastic kind. Every one carefully mapped at his station and cataloged. Thousands of volunteer test subjects who had undergone treatments for cancer research. Although he'd always thought cataloging some of the old samples to be a waste of time he'd never run across anything more unusual then the occasional birth defect. Until today.

He looked over at the file on the lab counter. Frowning, he noticed the red label for the first time. Not one of his. He only tagged blue labeled files.

He'd been told not to bother with the others as they had specialists for each field of research. Somehow this one had been misfiled and sent to him.

He looked at the results of the mass spec and NMR. He'd run them after sequencing this lot and finding the sense strand contained gaps in it upon examining the autoradiograph.

The nucleotide pairs in this strand were wrong. Wrong? hell, they shouldn't even exist. He had no idea what they were. They were none of the naturally occurring nucleotides. He quickly scrawled a note on the first flow of print out. "X and Y?"

Thinking for a moment, he set the copier to spew out two copies. He had to be onto something amazing. If Delmark had known about this before, they would surely have been crowing to the media. This kind of discovery could make a research facility famous.

However, the unidentified bases had been linked to known bases. Some sort of... of hybrid. This was impossible. It should be, anyway. This is what set off his internal alarms. He felt a cold sweat break out over his body.

The new bases had no place in any science he knew of, except maybe science fiction. Up until now he'd done his job just as specified, leaving any and all red labeled files alone. Looking into this one had been the result of a mix up... but what if they were all like this? Why tell him not to bother with the other labels when he could have been helping out any overtaxed colleagues at any time?

Rob Jamison shoved the print outs into his briefcase along with the sample case. He did not stop to wonder what was possessing him to do this. He'd never taken so much as an ink pen from the labs before. But if they... his employers, did know about this, and kept it quiet...why? Because they were grafting the new strands to human DNA? It was unthinkable, unethical, illegal... Rob felt sick to his stomach. What was he a part of?

Five years ago, when the project he'd been working on lost its grant and Maria was fighting her last battle with Cancer being offered this job out of nowhere was a godsend. He was able to pay the doctors for Maria, and provide for his daughter. He'd never questioned the offer coming just when he needed it before. Now... it looked like some sort of set up. An offer he COULD NOT refuse.

He looked at his watch as he went back to work. Trying to look as if his whole life hadn't changed in the last ten minutes. Trying to be inconspicuous and insignificant. When he took a break he made a single phone call, his hands shaking slightly as he pressed the numbers.

"Hi, you've reached Frankenstein's laboratory. We're out cutting up some cadavers right now so if you leave your name..." The tinny recording was cut off and replaced with a more natural voice. "Yo, I'm here."

"Hope, honey, could you meet me for dinner tonight?" He tried to sound casual.

"Daddy? Sure. Is something wrong? Can I bring Marc? We were sorta planning on bagging a pizza for ourselves as we studied but..."

"I'd really prefer if it could be just you and me tonight. Just a father daughter thing." He noticed another doctor walk into the room, look around, shrug and leave.

"Uh... sure. I can gross out Marc any time. Oh... and can you free yourself for Saturday? Mr. Kline said the hospital where I was born is giving him the run around, so he's hoping the safe deposit box this letter mentions will hold some answers."

"Sure." Rob swallowed hard. He knew how important this search was to his daughter. But it paled in comparison to what he had on his hands right now. "Look I'll talk to you at dinner. Seven o'clock at the Villa."

"Ok, seven it is. Oh... I gotta go dad. I have an O-Chem class in ten minutes."

"Alright. I'll see you at seven. And, Hope..." He paused, reflecting fully on the words as he spoke them. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Me too, dad. See ya." The line buzzed in his ear and he hung up. Looking at the clock he shivered. Three more hours and he was out of here.

Crunch. The noise was soft and usually unnoticeable. What made it so now was the fact that the office was dead silent except for the soft clicking of computer keys.

Crunch. Dana Scully looked up and peered over the rim of her reading glasses at her partner. He was seated across from her, absorbed in a white and red striped file. His hand up to his mouth, crunch, moving away now to flick a moist husk at the wastepaper basket. Then like an automaton, he moved to retrieve another seed from the baggie on his desk before returning to his mouth. Crunch.

Scully wadded up a sheet of paper and tossed it, bouncing the projectile off the top of his head rather nicely.

He looked up at her, startled. She answered him with a smug grin and set back to typing up the notes from an autopsy she'd done this morning.

Crunch!

That time was deliberately louder. How the hell do you manage to amplify the sound of shelling a sunflower seed, Scully wondered.

A small chime sounded on her computer and she checked her e-mail.

Seeing the return address she smiled.

TO:D_SCULLY@FBI.GOV
FROM:BUSTERBUNNY@HYATTHOMES.COM
SUBJECT: CIGAR TIME!

Dana felt tears well up in her eyes and quickly brushed them away. She was deeply touched, not only by the fact that their friend had named two of his offspring after herself and Mulder, even if it was intermixed with the names of the X-Men, but that Buster would have trusted them with the welfare of one of them.

She envisioned the five tiny bald and blind bundles of warm puppy. Not yet conscious of how special they were. How soon before they would be learning to read and spell? Before five months were out. She knew they didn't choose a companion until they were capable of communicating.

She felt a sudden pang of kinship. Not of their future companions, but of Mindy, the puppies' mother.

The biological clock had been ticking away, and over the past few months she seemed to be more aware of it then she had been in the past. No more.

Shit. It had been over a month since her last course. This was supposed to be almost impossible in her case. Something she found hard to believe earlier this morning bent over her toilet while wretching over the smell of the coffee brewing.

Everywhere she looked there were mother's with babies. Little children seemed to crawl out of the very woodwork. She'd told Mulder once that she'd thought of motherhood. The truth was she had been thinking of it a lot more lately. Especially since this past Saturday afternoon. Her mind drifted back...

She'd forced herself to do it. She had to. Just to be sure. It was improbable... but one had to eliminate all possibilities no matter how improbable. Right?

She set the timer and headed for the kitchen to make some tea. Her trip was interrupted by a knock at the door. Padding over in her sock covered feet she had to get on tip toe to peer through the peep hole. She smiled and undid the lock, holding open the door for her friend.

Jackie St. George held out a bag from a video rental store and a packet of microwave popcorn.

"I know Mulder's at his mom's this weekend, and since Marty isn't here either I went and rented Braveheart, Mad Max, and Lethal Weapon 3."

Scully swept her hand in, allowing Jackie to walk past her, heading purposely for the VCR.

"You know how to make an evening, Jackie. Popcorn and Mel, what more can a girl ask for?"

"Love, Commitment and a gassless burrito, but that's besides the point."

Jackie popped open one of the video boxes and inserted a movie while Dana went into the kitchen to pop the popcorn.

From the kitchen Scully could hear the video previews start blending with the hum of the microwave fan and the popping of the popcorn. She could barely make out Jackie saying something.

"What?" She called into the living room.

"I said your bathroom is ringing."

Oh Shit! Scully raced out of the kitchen. "Jackie don't..."

Too late. Jackie stood in the bathroom doorway, stock still. There was no missing it. It sat on the sink. An accusation and a dire portent.

"Ohmygod..."

Scully pushed past Jackie to look. A pink line glared accusingly at her.

Damn!

"Um... should I say Congratulations or I'm sorry?" Jackie asked from the doorway.

Still somewhat stunned, Scully sat down on the lid of the toilet. "I... I'd been hoping it was the flu."

"Yeah, one of those nine month bugs." Jackie crossed her arms before her, unsure what to say or do. The indecisiveness was written all over her. "Did you tell Mulder you suspected?"

Scully bowed her head into her hands, her hair veiling her face. "God no. I have no idea how he's going to react to this. There's so many variables to this equa... wait a minute... you know?" She looked up at Jackie, almost accusingly.

"So... did you think I was blind or just plain stupid? Of course I knew. I was waiting for you two to tell me, but after about six months I figured you weren't going to. I'll admit I was pissed at being left out of the loop for a while, but then I just sat back and enjoyed watching you two trying to pretend nothing was going on. All Joe and Jane Cool. HA!" Jackie moved to crouch before her friend. "Dana, you know if you need me for anything... I'm here. Right?"

Scully gave a choked little laugh. "I'll remind you of that when it's time to change diapers."

Jackie nodded. Understanding. "You're going through with it." Statement, not question.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. God, even though we were sure I couldn't conceive I was on the pill. I never missed. I guess some things were just meant to be. I can't... I can't even really grasp the thought of any other option. Yeah. I'm going through with it. Jesus, what do I tell Mulder?"

"How about; what kind of tie would you like for father's day?" Jackie's mouth turned up to a grin.

Mission accomplished. Dana had laughed.

Snapping out of her reverie she turned her head to eye her partner, still staring at the file (which she suspected was hiding a magazine) on his desk.

What kind of father would Mulder make? She smiled wistfully at the image of a crying little boy running to her because his daddy took all his toy trucks to play with. God, it would be like having TWO kids. But... what kids! Any child of Mulder's would end up spoiled rotten, not only by their father, but by virtue of the Mulder pout, and beguiling eyes. How the hell was she supposed to tell him? Jackie's suggestion came to mind. Nope.

"Earth to Scully." Mulder's voice brought her crashing back to the here and now. He was looking at her bemusidly and she felt a blush. Nope, now was NOT the time to bring up the whole situation. That was how she'd have to think of it. "The Situation". But soon, she'd have to tell him, and hope he didn't react too badly.

Chapter 2 - Look Here, Look Here And Learn Of Fear

"So what is it?" His question caught her off guard.

"Hmm?"

He pointed to her laptop. "The e-mail I just heard chime in, the one that has you all glassy-eyed and dreamy."

Scully grinned at that. Both an out, and an oportunity to tease him. "Buster became a daddy today. Three male two female pups. Gambit, Wolvie, Fox, Rogue and Dana." She almost laughed when he dropped his head to his desk and covered it with his arms.

"Buster has a SICK sense of humor. I wouldn't even wish my name on a *stupid* dog, let alone one of Buster's brood."

Scully felt a smile tease her lips. Amused at how in certain, very intimate situations, he didn't mind his name at all.

He uncovered his head and peered over at her. "So you were sitting there wanting a new puppy?"

Scully shook her head. "Buster said he wished it were safe enough for us to adopt one, but we all know the situation. Yeah... I would have been proud to take care of one of them." She paused at Mulder's thoughtful look. "No Mulder, I am NOT in the market for a new dog."

He smiled slightly and pointed a finger at the wall clock. It was past five, and they didn't have anything pending that day. Scully looked at him, then at the report. She hit Save and unplugged the laptop. She could finish later.

Hope smiled at the waiter as she was escorted to her father's table. She sat across from him and took a menu. She didn't open it, however, when she saw her father's face.

"Dad? What is it?"

Hope felt something bump her leg. She looked down to see her father's briefcase.

"Take this. Hide it. I don't want to know where."

Hope was getting alarmed now. "What's going on?"

"It's all been a sham. My work. There are printouts and physical proof in there. They are grafting some unknown DNA strands to humans. I've never seen anything like it before." Rob Jamison raised his glass of water to sip at it. His hand was shaking.

Hope was shocked silent. Her father had never been given to hysterics in any way. He was one of the most well grounded people she'd ever known.

Therefore, what he was saying, no matter how incredible it sounded, must be true. Her father never lied to her. Ever.

"Daddy, is mommy gonna be ok?" A small hand clutching at a frail one, stroking the pale flesh of the sleeping woman. The woman who loved her as much as if she were indeed the daughter of her flesh.

The pained look on the man before her. The man she trusted more then anyone on earth. Tears in his eyes. "No, honey. She's not. Mommy's going to go away. In a month, maybe a few more... she's going to go to heaven."

Fear, amorphous, un-named. Of abandonment, of pain, of loss. "But I don't want her to go. Why can't she stay with us?"

A hug, clutching, smothering. A need to cling to her, a mutual anchor. "I don't want her to go either, baby. But there is a bad thing in her. A sickness. It's called cancer. The doctors can't take it away. So she is going to leave us. But we have to do all we can to make the time she has left with us happy and full of love."

"Ok, Daddy." Still afraid, she allowed him to take her into the next room, where he performed plays on the walls using the shadows his deft fingers produced.

Tucking away the memory, which was preserved perfectly in her mind, she looked at her father. He looked as frightened now as he had been then. No.

Her father never lied.

Thinking rapidly she touched the briefcase, perceiving a chill coming off it, if only a psychological one. "Dad, does anyone know you took these?"

He looked across the table at her and for a moment didn't recognize her.

Realization snapped home and he nodded. "They have to by now. They keep records. Lots of records. Probably of what information passes through what computers."

The waiter arrived for drink orders. Hope could see her father needed neither alcohol or caffeine in his current condition, so she ordered them both Seven-Up. When the man left, she reached out to hold her father's hand.

"I can't say I understand this, but I trust you Dad. Look, come stay with me in the dorm tonight. I'll send Karen to her boyfriend's. I don't think it's a good idea for you to go home if they trace this to you."

Dr. Jamison shook his head. "I can't. I have to find a hotel somewhere.

They will expect me to stay with you if they do come after me."

"So why give me this?" She inclined her head to indicate the briefcase.

"I want you to hide it. I don't even want to know where. God, what have I gotten myself into?"

Their drinks arrived. They sipped at them absently, lost in their own thoughts, their own fears. The were not hungry now. Rob Jamison finally spoke up.

"I'm going to go home, collect some things and find someplace safe to spend the night. I'd feel better if you didn't keep that with you." He stood and dropped a five on the table before pressing his lips, cool and dry, to Hope's forehead. "I'll call you in the morning. I love you, honey."

"I know Dad." Hope felt tears spring to her eyes. "And you know, I love you." She got up, herself, then hugged him fiercely. Clinging to him as she had five years ago. Needing strength and being an anchor all at once.

Reluctantly they pulled apart. Dr. Jamison stroked his finger along the line of his daughter's almost square jaw, a familiar sign of affection, then left her standing at the table. They left the restaurant separately.

Hope spent half her drive back to the university thinking of where she could hide the briefcase. A flash of inspiration hit her and she pulled aside to check the innocuous looking leather container. Opening it, she found her father's usual notes, pens, computer disks, and a medical file on top of a thick sheaf of papers speaking the indecipherable language of genetics. She lifted the file and looked at the name and birth date on it. A small zip lock type baggy was stapled to the top of it, and inside was a yellow plastic case about the size of a pillbox.

She knew that must be the materials used for the genetic testing. She ripped the small baggy free of the file and tucked it down the front of her sweater. It rested securely, if a bit uncomfortably, within her bra, chilling the place over her heart until her body heat could warm it. She dug into her purse for her wallet, and withdrew her student ID card as well as her library and her courtesy card from the local food mart. Dropping them into the briefcase she closed and locked it with the tiny brass key her father had tied to the handle. Then she drove to the college administration building.

Hiding in plain site was by far one of the oldest, yet most effective forms of concealment. She walked up to the 'Lost and Found' courtesy desk and placed the briefcase on the counter.

"Excuse me." She smiled slightly at the girl behind the counter who looked up from her book. "I found this near a park bench on campus. I'm sure the owner will be looking for it."

The girl HAD to have been a Lit major, she just took the leather case and placed it among two others and a pile of other odds and ends then returned to her book without so much as a thank you. Her book was either engrossing, or hard enough to get through as to demand her full attention.

Hope left the building feeling a bit better. All she'd have to do to retrieve the briefcase was to return when another student was on shift, identify it, open it, and show them her cards, matched to her driver's license, and presto.. she'd have it back. But until then it was as hidden as she could make it.

Scully stuck another forkful of chicken in her mouth and tried to ignore the television as she struggled to conclude her report on her laptop. The machine was currently perched on an old wooden coffee table stained with enough rings to suggest it had been used as just that for too long. She, herself, sat Indian-style on the floor, her behind starting to go to sleep. She felt fingers begin to play with her hair and sighed as she leaned back a bit.

Mulder was laying on his couch watching Star Trek. The empty plate next to her own had held his own dinner a few minutes before. She grinned and popped another forkful into her mouth. Pan roasted chicken, with some apple raisin sauce. She'd lucked out. They were eating together and it had been Mulder's turn to cook. The small ritual had developed over the last few months.

She typed some more, distracted once more by the fingers twirling a lock of her hair around and around, an unconscious action. Mulder had this deep-seated need to touch. Not everyone; in fact he distanced himself from most. But with her, even before they had become intimate, he was always touching, invading her space. She'd recognized fairly early on that he was so closed off that part of him cried out for physical contact, no matter how innocent or innocuous. It kept him grounded, assured him that others were there... that SHE was there. Oh sure, there was always the part of him she suspected just liked to touch her. A year ago it would have been for the small visceral thrill, the promise, the tease of it. Knowing it would never go further than a hand on her back or elbow or a brush of an arm against hers.

Until it had gone further anyway.

But now? Now, she suspected, he still needed to reassure himself that she was real, and here, with him. Plus, a thousand innocent little caresses and strokes got to be an interesting form of foreplay.

Scully looked at the TV to see Capt. Picard dressing down Data for violating the prime directive and she felt uncomfortably like she was watching Skinner in pissed-off mode.

She managed to finish her summation and save the file for the last time before turning the machine off for the night. She needed to talk to Mulder.

She HAD to tell him. Oh God, oh God, oh God... how was he going to take this?

The fingers in her hair paused, then stopped, leaving her missing their presence.

"Finished?"

She leaned back so her head rested on the couch cushion and looked up at him. "At least until I can print it out."

"So... what can we do to kill some time? Star Trek is off, there's nothing on tonight..."

"Highlander is on." She pointed out and reached for the remote. Happy for an excuse to procrastinate for a few minutes more.

"I am not gonna watch you sit here and drool over Adrian Paul." He snatched the remote away.

"If I were over Adrian Paul I'd be too busy to drool. Gimme." She held out her hand.

Mulder clutched his hand over his heart and made a pained face. "You'd leave me for a TV star who feels the compunction to film at least three topless scenes a season? Why? It's the sword, isn't it?"

"Mulder, you are so insecure. I'd never drop you to run off with Adrian Paul. I just want to borrow him for a few hours of mindless sex, then I'd send him home to pine over me." That got her hit over the head with a couch pillow.

"Good thing for me you're here and he's in Vancouver." He turned off the TV and continued to hold the remote out of her reach.

She lunged for it. He hid it behind his back, she reached after it and found herself neatly caught as his other arm wrapped around her and pulled her up further on the couch and against him.

"Let's just see if I can make you forget the shirtless wonderboy, shall we?"

He leaned down a bit to claim a kiss, soft and sweet and unhurried.

"Mmmm..." Scully was disappointed when he pulled back. "Adrian WHO?"

She arched a teasing eyebrow at him.

"It's a start." The next kiss wasn't quite so soft, or sweet, but it was charged with enough passion to turn her bones to water. And enough to wipe the thoughts of a deep, unwanted conversations out of her head.

Rob didn't aim for neatness. He tossed clothing in a bag with no attempt at folding. Speed was his goal.

Grabbing the emergency money out of the small men's jewelry box Hope had given him for Christmas one year, he gave no more pause. He practically ran down the stairs.

The weight slamming into his chest as his feet hit the bottom stair was enough to send him to the floor, the wind knocked out of him.

Three men stepped from the shadows inside his house. He tried to pick himself up, terror clawing at his gut.

"How nice of you to join us, Dr. Jamison. Going on an unexpected trip?"

The man who had hit him gave him a saccharine smile.

"Where are the file and the reports, Doctor?" The second man hauled him to his feet by his shirt front and deposited him in a chair.

"What file?" Rob managed to stammer as air once more filled his lungs.

The third man stepped from the shadows. Darkness clung to him, except for the glowing red tip of his cigarette. "Don't insult our intelligence, Dr.

Jamison. Just give us what we want and we can pretend none of this ever happened."

"I... I don't know what you're talking about." Jamison looked into the pale blue eyes of the last man and knew he was a dead man. Somehow he had to keep Hope out of this, keep her safe.

A fist struck his jaw, pain exploded from the point of impact, amplified by the force of his teeth slamming into one another.

"He met with his kid tonight," one of the two thugs announced.

The shadow man seemed to pale slightly, and his eye movement became a touch more rapid. "He WHAT?"

"He went in to the restaurant with a briefcase, and left without it. We didn't bother to follow the girl. We know where she can be found anyway," the man who had hit him announced.

"No." Rob felt the protest leave his mouth without thought of forming the denial.

The shadow man took a drag from his cigarette, his hand almost seemed to tremble a bit, most likely with fury, Rob guessed.

"Doctor, let me make one thing clear. You have always been incidental.

Your life, your safety, your future has been assured only as a means to provide for the girl. Your stupidity in the light of that fact amazes me. You are a fool, Doctor. And I don't suffer fools. Not when this issue is at stake."

Rob felt himself relax. He was going to die. He knew that was inevitable now. He regretted leaving Hope alone, of leaving her with the burden he'd placed on her. He looked at the shadow man as his words sunk in. What had he said? Hope? Everything centered on Hope? Why? How?

He felt a cool hardness press against the base of his skull.

Hope. Keep Hope safe, God.

He neither felt nor heard the shot that ended his life.

Three men looked down at the lifeless body with apparent disinterest. The first one to speak was the man who had used his fists. "We'll go get the girl."

"Not yet." He bent over the body and removed the late Dr. Jamison's wallet before standing again. The man tamped out his cigarette before turning to leave. "First burn it. No evidence."

He left through the front door, aware that the two inside would take all the necessary precautions.

Hope dropped her purse on her bed and flopped in her desk chair. Her mind spiraled over everything that had happened at the restaurant.

The phone rang, and hoping it was her father checking in, she snatched the receiver up before it could ring twice.

"Yeah?"

"They know what you have. They'll be coming for you next. Get out. Find someplace safe." The voice was slightly raspy as it spoke. The soft click signaled the connection was terminated.

Hope looked at the phone with cold dread chilling her. There was no being coy. Her father had been found out. But what would his employers do? She remembered her father's fear in the restaurant, and grabbed her purse and her weekender bag. Without pausing she ran out of the dorm and got in her car.

Where could she go? Who did she know who could even begin to handle this situation? Marc? No way, her boyfriend was an English major, he'd never be able to handle this. The thought of an English major running around playing hero and white knight while dodgeing God alone knew what these people could throw at them... struck her as funny. Most likely a fear reaction. Seeing humor now was NOT being productive.

A name sprang to mind and with the squeal of tires and a hasty prayer she left the college behind her.

Chapter 3 - Unutterable Deeds Of Men Does Shout

Unpredictability. He hated it, yet was forced to deal with it all the time. He sat in his car, thinking of how to handle the situation. Things were falling apart. Plans, long-held plans, were scattering like dry leaves in the wind.

The project had to come first. Evidence MUST be retrieved. Yet he could not allow termination of the last piece.

So much work to keep certain truths buried. The only way he could think of preserving that piece was to point it in the direction he least wanted it to go.

New plans were formed. Discarded, reformed. Unpredictability. He hated it, but he was good at dealing with it.

Final decision made, he opened his own laptop and set encrypting and caltrop programs into action before doing something he had never envisioned himself doing. Turning to someone else for help. Someone a week ago he'd have done anything to prevent from becoming involved. He knew what buttons to push, and hopefully how to control the situation he was creating.

Affection was a dangerous liability in his position. He picked up the wallet he'd taken from Jamison's body. Most of it didn't interest him. He carefully slid a handful of pictures out of the wallet album. A little girl with pigtails sitting in a inflatable pool. Was she nine or ten there? The same girl, a bit older, holding a puppy. He knew the dog's name had been Chewbacca.

She'd received it as an anonymous birthday gift. The dog had died last year, hit by a car. A high school graduation picture. So much younger then the others in her class... He placed these in his inner jacket pocket, pausing at a picture of the girl, head turned slightly away from the camera, looking off to the side, smiling. The tilt of her head, the arch of her neck, the shadow's angle all conspired to make her look so very much like Teena had been.

This picture he placed with the others after lingering over it.

He inhaled deeply, pulling the smoke into his lungs, trying to burn away his own indecisiveness. Exhaling, he composed an e-mail. One he was sure would pique certain interests...

Hope had the radio on out of habit. By the time the rain broke from the pregnant clouds overhead, she was half way to her destination. The night's darkness and smeared view of oncoming headlights made driving difficult, even with the wipers on high.

When the story came on detailing a suspicious fatal fire in Olmstead Falls, she barely took notice, until the announcer spoke the name Dr. Robert Jamison. Hope swerved off the rode and looked at the glowing numbers of her car radio. Numb.... she was going numb. Her father was dead. They'd killed him. Whatever the hell was in that briefcase, they were willing to kill for. To kill her father. The only person she had left in the world. Daddy.

Hope felt the tears slide down her cheeks, but felt no wracking sobs. Only a dull ache in her chest. A feeling of suffocation, and she realized her breathing had sped up. She began to feel light headed and she fought for control.

Focus. Focus on happy times. Think of the love. Her perfect memory pulled out moments of her life, savoring them like pictures in an album. Her father reading her Green Eggs and Ham when she was six. Her mom and dad dressed as clowns to cater her eighth birthday party. Her father, soothing her nightmares with shadow pictures on the wall. Her mother making cookies and her father stealing one only to bite in and find it way too hot. That wonderful trip to Disneyland. They were there, in her memories. With her forever. They were with God now, and safe in Heaven, far removed from this mess down here on earth.

She gripped the steering wheel till her knuckles were bloodless, but she had managed to calm her breathing.

Pulling back into traffic, she set out to complete the journey she had started. No matter what her final destination might be. She had to get her father's discovery out, to people who would understand. She had to. For Daddy. For revenge.

105 Valentine Street
Cleveland, Ohio

Eddie watched the TV in something akin to shock. The eleven o'clock news was showing footage of the fire in a Cleveland suburb. Foul play suspected. Dr. Robert Jamison dead. Even the rainstorms currently moving across the area weren't helping put the blaze out.

He couldn't shake the queasy feeling that a cigarette might have started this fire, and as far as he knew Dr. J didn't smoke.

The loud banging on his apartment door startled him for a moment.

Cautiously, he moved to the front door, his gun held without hesitation in his left hand. He peered through the peep hole and nearly dropped the gun in his hurry to get the door open.

Once the wood barrier was thrown open, he looked in the frightened eyes of a very wet, and shivering Hope Jamison.

Shock, she was in shock, and it was pouring... what was he supposed to...

Oh yeah.

He pulled her inside and closed the door, then hurried to his small bathroom. Fetching some towels, he draped one over her head.

"What happened?"

After holding back the tears, the dam finally broke. Huge wrenching sobs tore from her slender frame. Eddie was once again at a loss. He wanted to hug this trembling, frail looking little girl, the need fueled by a paternal urge she seemed to bring out in him. Pretty or not, she was still a kid, young enough to be one of his own if he had had any.

He settled for guiding her to a chair with a hand on her shoulder.

She'd heard the news on the radio as she drove over here. She had come about something her father gave her. He listened as she spilled all she knew.

And he found himself believing it all.

Somehow... in some way her search for her birth mother had started this.

Was the smoking man just taking advantage of a bad situation? What now?

Hope was seventeen, still legally under age, despite her college situation.

Eddie ran his good hand over his face. He knew already that he wasn't gonna back down. He wasn't gonna set this kid adrift in these shark-infested waters. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"Ok, tonight you stay here." He rose and went to his bedroom, returning with a sweat suit. "Go shower, use lots of hot water. Wear this while I run your clothes through the dryer. We both need sleep. In the morning, we'll figure out what to do next."

Hope almost wilted. Relief washed over her. She wasn't alone. She wasn't sure why Mr. Kline was willing to help her, but she was too grateful to ask.

The shower warmed her flesh enough to make her fingers and ears burn.

She hadn't realized how cold she had been until then. The sweat suit was alright in the legs and arms, but she had to tie a knot in the waistband of the pants to keep them up.

Shuffling out of the bathroom, she looked at Mr. Kline, pouring two cups of steaming tea into mugs. He was as tall as she was, and he was wearing flannel pajamas under a worn smoking jacket. His once brown hair was liberally threaded with gray. Even though she knew he was in his early fifties, his face and body, however, gave him the appearance of a man ten or fifteen years younger.

She watched him put the kettle back on the stove, and found herself wondering what had happened to his hand. As if such a thing mattered.

"Warm now?" he asked her as he opened a package of fig bars.

"Yeah, I suppose. Mr. Kline, what are we gonna do?"

He gestured to one of the seats at the table. "First, you are gonna call me Eddie. I think we just moved a bit beyond the client-employee angle. Next, you are gonna eat something, and drink the tea. You probably haven't eaten since lunch, have you?"

"I don't feel much like eating." She sipped at her tea.

"Eat a few fig bars and I'll make sure you eat eggs and bacon for breakfast.

You can't run on empty, kiddo. You don't have the body weight to spare.

Mancha, mancha."

Hope set down her mug. "Funny, Kline doesn't sound Italian."

"Mom's maiden name was Geonetti. Now eat, or will I have to make the food choo-choo?"

Hope sighed, not rising to the bait, but complied. She didn't really taste the cookies, and they sat uncomfortably in her stomach.

Kline shook his head. "I have a story to tell you. When you hired me...

someone tried to outbid your father, to try to get me to give you false information."

Hope looked shocked. That was WEEKS ago. Her father hadn't even gotten the tests yet.

"I sent them packing. But... Hope, I think part of this mess, SOMEHOW, goes back to your birth parents. This guy seemed bound and determined to keep you from tracking down your mother."

Hope gathered her wits quickly. "Then... first thing tomorrow I get the briefcase back, then we head for Pennsylvania. That safety deposit box my mom left me might hold some answers."

Eddie nodded. "That's what I thought." He inclined his head to the living room. "I'll take the couch tonight. You can have the bed, no arguments.

There's enough of the old world chivalry in me that I insist."

Hope was too tired to put up a fight.

Apartment 42
Alexandria, VA

Dana retrieved her blouse from the chair across the room and pulled it on.

It was eleven o'clock, and she had to get home. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail to disguise its disarray and bent to pick up her laptop. She wanted to get out of here. Tomorrow. She'd tell him tomorrow. What was one more day?

She felt Mulder's hand caress her back and looked at him, laying on the couch wearing nothing but a blanket. Their eyes met, and volumes were spoken.

I wish you could stay.

So do I, stolen weekends are one thing, but we can't be too obvious. I'll miss you.

And I you.

Nothing said aloud; they each understood, could read it in the windows to their souls.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She leaned in for one last, lingering kiss, then slipped quietly from his apartment. Leaving behind only the scent of herself on him, on the blanket, on the couch.

Mulder closed his eyes with a groan. He hated this. Hated the secrecy, the cloak-and-dagger shit, like they should be ashamed of themselves, of being in love. Life was unfair, and this was just one of the millions of examples.

He didn't mention it in the office, but he knew what was bothering Scully.

Babies. A home, family, normalcy. Things that her choice to be with him denied her. Hell, he'd thought of those things, too. Longed for them even.

The impossible dream. Maybe someday, when he found Samantha, he could get out, retire. But now was NOT a good time. And knowing that Scully wanted these things drove a knife of pain through his heart. Because he didn't think he could give them to her. She'd have to leave to obtain them. Their partnership, the X-Files, too many dangers for an expectant mother, too many dangers for any kid of hers, let alone any kid he fathered.

He ran a hand over his face as visions of little red-headed girls calling him Daddy slipped into his subconscious. Damn.

What would he give for that? To see Dana and to know that their child grew inside her? To hold a tiny infant that was a blend of them both? Part of him wanted that dream so badly he could taste it. But the cost was too great. He couldn't turn his back on Sam, on the Truth. The only way to achieve that dream was to work with Dana to uncover the Truth. To blow the whole mess into the open, to get the answers they both needed. In this they would gain their own security.

Mulder started to drift off to sleep, troubled dreams plaguing him.

A cradle sheltering a sleeping infant. Light, too bright, coming through a window, falling on the child as it wailed. An empty cradle, a woman sobbing. His baby, they took his baby. He felt himself running through a house, though he couldn't really see anything but the occasional piece of furniture. He needed to find something. Something he'd lost. Samantha. His son. His daughter. Scully. He called out.

A door opened and Scully stood there, weeping, holding out a small, empty blanket. "Where is our baby?" Her voice accusing and filled with grief.

"I don't know." The answer seemed foolish.

Then he caught a scent. Lilacs. It tugged at his mind, his memory. A soft hand stoked his arm. A voice seemed to whisper words from far away. Too far to make out what was said. He could make out 'help' and 'danger' but the rest was lost as Scully began to scream. He looked at her. The blanket she had held was covered in blood.

Mulder awoke with a start, his apartment dark. The VCR clock told him it was 3am.

Knowing he would never get back to sleep now, he threw off the blanket and started to get ready for work.

J. Edgar Hoover Building

Washington, D.C.

Mulder unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch. The small office smelled musty, and the odor of old coffee and sunflower seeds permeated it.

Seating himself at his desk, he booted up his computer. He needed something to do. Maybe scan for some unusual crimes on the database. He saw his own e-mail icon blinking, so he clicked on it, prepared for a copy of the note Dana had received from Buster yesterday.

It was not what he expected. Not at all...

Chapter 4 - For Mankind To Shed But A Single Tear

It had been ridiculously easy. Retrieving the briefcase had been simple -- it, and its contents, were intact. Eddie had insisted on stopping at a bank and getting a cash advance on his credit card, as well as taking some money out of his checking and savings account. He told her not to try and access hers.

They might be watching for such a move.

The drive from Cleveland to Scranton took eight hours. That was the worst part. Impatiently willing the miles to pass. It seemed to take forever. Eddie tried to make things easier on her by telling her some stories from his childhood and his time with the police force. She was certain he was toning it down, uncomfortable with the idea of swearing around her. As if she couldn't match him cuss for cuss in a contest.

They stopped outside of the city and got two hotel rooms then headed for the bank. Hope checked to make sure both keys were on the chain around her neck. A safety deposit box key, and a small brass one were inside the note her birth mother had left her. She knew she'd need them both now.

Both the bank and the safety deposit box were there. She claimed her mother's name, signed the papers and went alone with the manager into the back. They used both their keys and Hope was escorted, with the almost weightless box, into a privacy room.

She took a deep breath when she was alone, and opened the metal container. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden box, no bigger then a hardcover book. It had brass detailing and a brass lock.

Her eyes misted looking at the small, innocuous looking thing. This had belonged to the woman who had given birth to her. This had been left as her only legacy.

She didn't open the second box, but took it with her, signaling the manager that she was done, and returning her key, insisting she wouldn't be back.

Next stop was the public library. Eddie hoped to find some clue of her mother's whereabouts in the backlogs of local papers. He saw she hadn't opened the box, and didn't pressure her. For that she was grateful. On the ride to the library she kept running her hands over the rough carvings.

Vines and leaves, her fingertips memorizing the patters. Her mother had held this, had owned this, had left this for her.

She brought it with her into the library and sat at one of the long reading tables while Eddie moved off to find what he needed. For the longest time, she just looked at the box. Then she dug the letter out of her purse.

Yellowed with time, crumpled, stained with tears, both her own and her birth mother's.

She held the worn and yellowing envelope in one hand while running her fingers through her long, chestnut hair. She was seven when she had first been handed the note by her parents. They had never made a secret of her adoption. They had, in fact, reminded her often how much they loved her.

How she was CHOSEN, and thus wanted so much more. Momma couldn't have children of her own. The reason was obvious in the end. The ovarian cancer had taken her from Hope when she was just eight. But in those eight years she had known nothing but love, comfort and pride from her mother.

Before she died, Maria Jamison made sure Hope had the letter. It was a letter from her birth mother. Passed along to be disposed of at her adoptive parents discretion.

She opened it once more and read the inked lines,

"Dear baby,

As I write this I don't know if you are going to be a boy or a girl. It doesn't matter. I want you to know that I love you. I love you enough to give you up. To give you a better life then you could have with me. But I write this, in case you ever want to know me. To know who I was, and why I gave you up.

I am seventeen. That in itself is a problem. I didn't plan on being a mother.

It was an accident. Your father doesn't know. I wasn't given the chance to tell him, and if I was I am not sure I'd have worked up the nerve. My family isn't very supportive. They have sent me away, to stay with my aunt until you are born. If I had told your father... I know he would have done right by us both. But my parents were scandalized. Not only by me being pregnant at seventeen, but that your father isn't, shall we say, a white, anglo saxon, Catholic. He was my parents second worst nightmare, and they were adamant. It was either this, or be tossed out with no support or future. Your daddy doesn't have a job either. Heck, he's just a year older them me. However while his past is shadowed, his future looks bright. I don't think I'd have the courage to ruin that future by breaking this little surprise on him.

So... I'm sitting here in my temporary bedroom, writing this letter for eyes that may never see it. Loving a baby that will most likely never know me...

and only regretting that I am not well enough off to keep you.

If you are reading this, then your new family... your REAL family thought it best you know of me. I have made provisions for this as well.

In Scranton Pennsylvania the First Federal Bank on Main street is holding a safety deposit box in my name. I paid enough on it (cashing in some Bonds) to keep it in trust till January 1, 2000. Inside is a box. In the box is me. You. Who you are. Some pictures, some trinkets, and a very special bracelet. Your daddy gave it to me, and gifted me with each piece at different moments in our short time together. There is also a journal of mine. Not very good reading in general. But it will let you know me some more. If you look for me, and I am still around... I won't turn you away. I'd like to know how you turned out.

With love, Connie McKenzie"

Hope folded the letter back up. She felt small and alone. She was just seventeen herself. What must her mother have felt like? So alone, so lost.

She ran her long fingers through her tousled chestnut hair and looked out the library window. It was raining again. Somehow it seemed fitting.

When she looked away from the window she gasped at the sight of the man who had seated himself across the table from her. He was tall, and old. At least sixty. Thin and worn. She was startled as much by his presence as by the fact that she recognized him. She's seen him at a distance at her mother's funeral.

"Who are you?" Her question without curtesy, seeing as he displayed none by seating himself with her.

"An old friend of the family's." He lit a cigarette, ignoring the "NO SMOKING" signs around the library, and leaned back, examining her.

Hope felt like a show dog. Was he going to ask her to roll over and play dead next?"You turned out well, Hope. Better then even I could plan."

"What are you talking about? I don't know you. I remember seeing you before, but you were never introduced to me. And what do you mean you could PLAN?" This man scared her for some reason.

"If I were you I would seriously reconsider opening that Pandora's Box in front of you." He let out a puff of smoke, it's scent cloying the air before her, its presence casting a haze around them both. "Some things are better left unknown. You have a bright future Hope. Full scholarships and the first year of pre-med under your belt. Impressive for a girl your age. You graduated High School at fifteen didn't you? With a truly impressive SAT score. 1600? Only 517 perfect scores nationally in your entire graduating year. You have everything ahead of you. Don't ruin your life chasing shadows. That's one family curse you have the choice to avoid."

Hope felt her bones chill. How did this man know so much about her. Then she remembered Eddie's description of the man who tried to buy him out, and her anger rose.

"What happened to your father is a pity. But it won't touch you. I can promise you that. But only if you leave the past behind you and move on."

He drew on the cigarette again.

Hope shivered despite herself. "How do you know that? How do you know anything?"

"I know when you were six you ran away, because your parents couldn't afford to take you to Disneyland and you wanted to go so badly you had cried for a week. You didn't get far."

Hope remembered that. She remembered almost everything. She had an excellent memory, bordering on phenomenal. The next week her father won a trip to Disneyland from a raffle he didn't recall entering. The vacation had been everything she had dreamed. The last one they had shared with her mother.

"When you were twelve you and Erica Kent went exploring an abandoned mine shaft and got lost. It took two days for... someone to find you both.

You've been claustrophobic ever since."

The dark had been cloying after the borrowed flashlights went out. Both girls had panicked. There were too many passages. The two days until a stranger found them had seemed an eternity in hell. Thirst and hunger gnawed at them, they were both so cold their teeth chattering was a constant noise in the silence of the mine shafts. The man who found them gave them water and led them to safety. The mine had been too dark to see his face, but Hope would always be grateful to that stranger. He had been part of a team of searchers called out when their parents reported them missing. But he had disappeared without thanks. There was something about his voice in the darkness... something niggling at her mind.

"Hope? Calm down. You are a strong girl. Take a deep breath. Feel that? Plenty of air. I'll get you out. I'll always get you out." A strong hand on her trembling shoulder. A smell... the scent almost lost in the mustiness, the stink of dirt and coal.

"Who are you?" she asked again. Her fear rising as he displayed knowledge of her life.

"Let's just say... I have vested interest in your family." He tapped the wooden box before her. "Leave this alone. It will only bring you trouble.

More trouble then what your father gave you."

Hope gasped and looked sharply at the man. He knew. He knew about the papers.

Her eyes narrowed and her determination renewed in a surge of anger at this stranger. "Pandora's Box, you called it. When all the bad things flew out, when all the fear and pain was released there was one thing left in Pandora's Box wasn't there?" She looked at the old man, her head tilted sideways.

There was a trace of a smile on his face. A tiny spark of approval in his eyes, almost... pride, quickly smothered.

"Hope." She finished. "Hope remained. It's my name. In here is myself.

Under any pain or torment the rest will give me, I'll find myself. I'll find Hope."

"Your birth mother died in 1990. Beat to death by her proper CATHOLIC husband. He met an... unfortunate end in prison a few months later. She married him to please her parents." He looked out the window, looking somehow older. "I know you have a private detective searching for her. He will confirm this shortly. Please, just let it rest. Let her rest. The truth will

not set you free. It will bind you. You are free now. As innocent and untouched as I could make you." He looked back at her. He didn't look so frightening now. Just sad, and lonely.

Hope felt numb. If this was the truth... then she would never know her mother. Never know how her birth family tied to her father's death. Unless the answers were inside the box. What did he mean by her being as innocent as he could make her? Who was he? She knew direct questions were not going to give her the answers she wanted.

Someone dropped a heavy book off to her right and she instinctively turned to the noise. Looking back, the stranger was gone, leaving behind a lingering scent of cigarettes.

Hope frowned, took hold of her tiny brass key and unhesitatingly opened Pandora's Box. She could have sworn she smelled the scent of lilacs over the smoke when she opened it. She pulled out the leather bound journal and a silver charm bracelet.

The bracelet held many sparkling charms. All silver. A globe, a rose, a mickey mouse, a Crucifix, the Star Of David seemed out of place beside it, a coin with staggered letters so that when it spun it read "I (heart) you", a miniature class ring, a kachina. All forming an odd mish mosh of trinkets.

With a smile she put the bracelet on, feeling somehow connected to the woman who gave her life through that small action.

Then she pulled out the pictures. Most were of a beautiful woman, with hair the color of Hope's, with Hope's nose and chin, smiling. Happy. In some there was a boy, about the same age. Both wore their hair in the dorky style of the late seventies, early eighties. His was a little long. Hope immediately knew that this almost amazingly handsome boy was her father.

Way to go MOM. His eyes... they were hers, and his lips... well hers were more feminine but... yes her jaw was squared as well, but softer. She could see parts of herself in the two kids. Especially in his eyes. It was hard to see in the faded polaroids, but she somehow knew they were hazel, like hers.

One picture was taken to the backdrop of some sort of carnival. In the background was part of a banner. "LMARK HOMECOMING

CARNIVAL" was visible.

Picking up the journal she opened the cover to see two papers folded neatly in the front. With trembling fingers she opened them.

The first was a birth certificate from a hospital here in Scranton, PA. Baby Girl McKenzie. Mother -Connie Anne McKenzie. Father - Fox William Mulder. Born February 10th, 1979. With that was a copy of adoption papers. Signed by her mother.

It was a start. If the old, smoking man had told the truth, and her mother was dead... that left one place to look. One place to search for the reason her adoptive father had been killed, and what her birth family had to do with it.

"Fox William Mulder," she whispered the name aloud. Her mother's letter told her he'd never known about her. What the hell was she going to say if she found him? Congratulations... it's a girl? Was he old enough for a heart attack?

Hope felt something strange. Fear and anticipation all rolled up with the desire to learn more. What her father had been working on... what kind of people her birth parents were, and who the mysterious smoking man was that he knew so much about her.

Eddie approached her a few hours later, just before the library was ready to close. She'd been engrossed by her mother's journal until he sat beside her.

He looked grim.

Hope's fears about the smoking man's words, were confirmed. "I know."

She startled Eddie by speaking the words softly, then telling him about her visitor.

"Why the hell didn't you come and get me at once?"

Hope shrugged. "He was gone, it wouldn't have done any good. He didn't hurt me. This is a public place." She shoved the papers she'd found in her mother's journal at Eddie. "On to stage two. Let's see if this guy is still around."

Eddie Kline looked at the papers and shook his head with amazement.

"With a name like that he can't be too hard to trace."

Chapter 5 - Past And Present Coalesce

Scully eyed her orange juice dubiously. It wouldn't have bothered her if she hadn't just spent ten minutes in the bathroom cursing Mulder's name and fathoming the mysteries of modern plumbing. But she needed to drink the juice to take her pre-natal vitamin pill. Or as Jackie had called it, the 'horse pill'.

They hadn't watched the movies Saturday afternoon. Instead Jackie had driven Dana to the office of an OB/GYN Scully had gone to school with and trusted to a reasonable degree. She had to wait two hours, but she got squeezed in. Jackie had stayed in the waiting room, no doubt feeling almost as uncomfortable as Dana had felt talking to Dr. Megan Carson.

When Dana came back into the waiting room, Jackie hadn't said a word, just walked with her back out to the car. Only once they were inside the vehicle, closed off from the world, did Dana receive the 'tell me or die'

look.

"I'm about two months along. It's definite. No faulty tests for me." Scully held up a piece of prescription paper. "And I have to start taking pre-natal vitamins."

"Oh fun, just trade one morning pill for another." Jackie had said until she SAW the pills. "What are these? Horse Pills? How are you supposed to swallow that?"

"With water." Dana shrugged, not really knowing how she could down the giant elongated tablets when she was so nauseous in the morning.

So here she stood, contemplating her orange juice and horse pill as Socrates must have contemplated that last fatal draught. She grimaced and did the only thing she could do. Downed the pill and juice, bravely trying not to gag as she did it.

She had managed to calm her stomach and had started getting dressed for work when the phone rang. She picked it up while shrugging on her suit jacket.

"Didja tell him?"

Scully sighed. Jackie. The voice of her conscience.

"No. Not yet. The right opportunity didn't come up."

"Dana. It isn't going to. You can't wait around until he suggests you join Jenny Craig. Look, you've stood tall in the face of aliens, ghosts and psychos, not to mention ME, you can tell Mulder. Worst case... he'll pass out and you won't be able to drag him anywhere."

"That's hardly the worst case," Scully mumbled into the phone.

"What? What do you think he's gonna do? Yeah, you're gonna talk, but he isn't about to ask you to do anything you don't want to. You know that. He might be upset for a while, but he'll get over it. He's great with kids. Now listen to me. You are NOT to go to bed tonight without telling him. That's an order."

Dana wasn't surprised to see Mulder already in the office and working on something. But what was he working on? Yesterday they had nothing pending. She'd hoped to have tonight free. She couldn't keep putting this off. Not with Jackie riding her back.

"Morning." He didn't even look up from his computer as she poured herself some coffee. She savored the taste. One more Mulder advantage, he made coffee any navy brat could appreciate. The spoon could practically stand up on its own in it. She smiled slightly. Her father once said 'if it doesn't start to eat away the enamel on your teeth, it's too weak.' Good thing the saltines this morning had worked their magic. No more nausea for today at least. Hopefully. Unless, of course, this coffee set her off...

"So what has you so engrossed this morning? Find a new adult website?"

Mulder handed her a FAX copy of a morning edition article from an Ohio paper. A suspicious fire last night. A dead doctor. She looked at him curiously. "And?"

"This was waiting for me when I got in this morning." Scully moved around the desk to stand behind him. There was a scanned picture of a young woman on the screen. "According to the e-mail I received this information in her name is Hope Jamison, the daughter of the dead doctor.

Her late father was a geneticist for DelMark Labs. She is supposedly in possession of some sensitive documents her father acquired. Documents dealing with unknown genetic factors."

He looked up to see he'd at least gotten her attention. "Whoever sent me this thinks this girl is in danger. The people who killed her father want those documents. I've made some calls."

He held up some more papers. "Hope Jamison is seventeen, and already in her second year of pre-med at St. John's College. According to her roommate she disappeared last night and the police are beginning to suspect she might have something to do with her father's death."

"What makes you think she doesn't, Mulder? This could just be one more set up."

He smiled slightly. "Call it a hunch." He looked at the picture again. He wasn't about to tell Scully part of the reason he wanted to look into this was the girl's resemblance to how he'd imagined Samantha might look at that age.

"302 filled out?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"And approved ten minutes ago. Grab your bags Scully, we're headed for Cleveland."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, joy."

Hope leaned over Eddie's shoulder. He was running an interesting program on his laptop. It was scrolling through what appeared to be thousands of names.

"What's it doing?" she asked sitting down next to him at the table and poking an accusing finger at a left over french fry from Mickey D's left on the table from their late lunch.

"Searching the phone directories of the US. Our luck sucks, kiddo. Not a single Fox Mulder listed, yet hundreds of thousands of F. Mulders, and none of those F. Mulder's listed in Chilmark, Massachusetts." Kline sighed as he sat back and considered his options. "Hmmm... Let's see if this guy has a criminal record shall we?"

"Do I want to know if he does?" Hope dug through her overnight bag and pulled out the flattened, matted teddy bear she slept with. She looked up to see Eddie's eyes dancing as she tucked the misfit from a rag bag under her arm.

"Not one word, Kline. Not one. Mr. Pookie was the last birthday gift I got from my Mom." She waggled a finger at him.

She had to give him credit. He tried not to laugh. Even succeeded for about forty seconds. She let him. His laughter filled the room with a warm sound. It wasn't accusatory, or really demeaning. Not like some of the stuff she'd heard when she first arrived at college.

She just shook her head and smiled. "So, as I asked, do I wanna know if he does?"

"Hell yes." Eddie managed to get a hold of himself. Glad she didn't seem to take any offense at his laughter. But please... Mr. Pookie?"Maybe a criminal records our answer. If he's got mob ties or something maybe someone traced you."

Hope nodded and turned to her bed. They had two rooms, but Eddie was currently working from hers. He claimed she was neater. She wouldn't have minded sharing a room with Eddie. She felt safe with Eddie. He wasn't a perv, or a sicko. He reminded her of a favorite uncle, or a much older brother. However, he insisted they each have their own hotel rooms.

Clicking on the tv, she sat Indian-style with Mr. Pookie in her lap. She channel surfed until she came across a Brad Pitt movie. One she hadn't seen before with Juliett Lewis.

Two different chimes went off on Kline's computer.

"We have something," he muttered as he scrolled through whatever was on his screen.

"What?" Hope got up to stand at Kline's elbow once more.

"One Mulder still listed in Chilmark. Not F. but T. at 2790 Vine Street."

Eddie clicked on an icon at the bottom of his screen. "And one Fox W.

Mulder arrested by the military in 1993 for trespassing on the grounds of a military operation. Records still there but no official charges posted.

Hmmm... Looky here. This particular Fox Mulder works for the Feds.

Probably why no charges were filed, but there was an official complaint lodged."

"Do you have an address? Phone number? Anything?" Hope felt a fluttering in her stomach. This could be it.

"Yup. Alexandria, Virginia." He smiled a lopsided grin. "I'll arrange a wake-up call for six in the morning."

Hope nodded solemnly. "What are we going to do when we get there? Just knock on his door? I mean, I'm not exactly what you'd call a wonderful surprise. I'm not some cute little cuddly baby. And if he isn't the reason this smokestack guy is watching me, then I could be bringing him a lot more trouble then this is worth."

Eddie shook his head and removed his reading glasses. "Hope, it isn't easy in any of these situations. Meeting birth parents, I mean. I tried to warn you about that when you hired me. It isn't some fairy tale everything's-alright-now solution to your problems. Sometimes it adds to them. But look, I'll do my research on this guy. Do a little computer digging in DC. Maybe follow him around a little, see what he's like. I don't want to get you any more messed up with that smokestack character than you are. For all we know, this Mulder guy could be working with or for him. Just cause he's a cop doesn't mean he's clean. I knew a couple of cops on the take when I was on the force. They're worse than the regular criminals."

Hope nodded solemnly. She picked up Eddie's notepad and scanned his neat handwriting.

"Eddie, do you think you could do me one more favor?"

When the car stopped, Hope unbuckled and looked at Eddie. "You coming?"

"Nope. This is something you gotta do alone, kid. It's private. I'll be right here when you're done. I got a book, so take as long as you want. I mean that." He set a battered-looking Dean Koontz book on the steering wheel and started to read.

Hope slipped silently out of the car, her fingers wrapped tightly around the stems of the bouquet in her hand. She wasn't fooled. She could feel Eddie watching her as she walked between the neat rows of stone markers.

She let her eyes fall on the names of strangers to her left and right, until she found the one she was looking for. Connie Anne Daugherty. Beloved Daughter and Wife.

Hope felt the bitter laugh escape her. Hypocrisy marked for eternity in stone. If her parents had really considered her beloved, she wouldn't have been sent away, some horrible family secret. As for wife... her bastard husband put her here.

Hope sat down before the smallish gravestone and placed the bouquet of spring flowers in front of it.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I started looking too late. I missed you by seven years. It seems unfair to me. All that you went through. I wish I could have known you. Met you just once." Hope absently wiped the tears from her eyes.

"The folks who adopted me were great, Mom. You probably know that though. I bet you've been looking down every once in a while, watching me. It might explain all the good things that have happened to me for most of my life. Anyway, the Jamisons... you would have been thrilled with them. I never once felt unloved or unwanted. They were all that good parents should be, and then some. They're both with you now. Please take care of Dad. He gets frustrated pretty easy." Hope sniffed, wiping away more tears. "I'm feeling pretty alone now, Mom. I feel closer to you somehow because of that. I feel I can understand just a little of what you went through. I'm... I'm gonna be fine. I promise I'll do what I can to straighten this mess out. I want to get back to my normal life."

Hope felt herself laughing through the tears. "But I can't, can I? There is no going back, just going on. I miss Dad so much... I feel so... enraged... this need to make the people who did this pay is so strong."

Hope looked down and saw a rock poking through the well tended grass of the cemetery. She dug it lose. Looking from the rock in her hand to the marker, she smiled. She didn't give a damn if it was illegal.

An hour later, her finger scraped and sore, a kink in her back and an ache in her shoulders, Hope sat back to view her handiwork. Some might consider it defacement. She considered it the truth. More of a Truth than the lie it had been before.

Connie Anne Daugherty. Beloved Daughter and Wife. Carved with the neat precision of some anonymous mason. And Mother. It was crude, and no where near as deep as the other words. But it was there.

As Hope stood up, she felt a breeze caress her face and ruffle her hair. It carried on it the scent of lilacs. Hope smiled. Then shook her head at her own whimsy. Lilacs were out of season.

She ran her hand over the cold granite before returning to the car, and the patiently waiting Eddie Kline.

Chapter 6 - Single Minded Passions Run

The plane was far from full. Scully was glad; it gave them some breathing space. No one was seated ahead of them, and there was an elderly woman engrossed in a book behind them. She looked at Mulder as he poured over the latest report of the scene of the fire in Olmsted Falls. He was pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, lost in thought.

"Mulder," she leaned into him.

"Hmmm?" He turned a page.

She reached over to close the folder. This was the best time she could think of. They were airborne. Where was he going to go? He'd have to sit here and talk to her. It was underhanded, but she was nervous enough as it was.

He looked at her curiously as she pulled the file from his hand.

"What do you think of children?" she hedged.

"They're short versions of adults." He grinned, then seeing her annoyed expression, he sighed. "I like kids. Are you propositioning me?"

"Back in Home, Pennsylvania, you mentioned you'd thought of having a family. Do you still want that?" She tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah, I'd like to have a family some day, Scully. But if we can't, that's ok, too. It doesn't mean I want a family now."

Scully didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. He had said 'if we can't...', which meant he thought of his future only with her. That made her heart want to swell out of her chest. But he didn't want a family now.

"Mulder," she tucked her chin in and looked at her hands, the fingers laced over the file she'd taken from him as it lay in her lap, "I'm pregnant."

Her heart pummeled to her toes when she heard the muffled "Damn."

She willed the tears not to come. She wouldn't allow it. She would NOT be weak. She felt one slide down her cheek anyway. Hormones, she reasoned.

They were going to be out of whack for a while now. She might as well get used to it.

"Are you sure?" Mulder took her hand. His palm was warm and dry over her skin.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I took the home test, then Jackie took me to a doctor I'd gone to school with. Two months, Mulder. I think that would make itBuffalo."

"Jackie? You told Jackie about this, and didn't tell me?" He sounded hurt.

She finally looked up and met his eyes. "Not intentionally. She was there when I took the home test. She found out by accident. She's also been hounding me to tell you. Besides, that doesn't matter. Mulder, this might be my only chance. We both know that. If... if you don't want this... I won't name you as the father. I won't ask for help or..."

She flinched, his face had gone from hurt to angry in a split second. She'd never seen him aim that anger at her before. "How could you even THINK that? What? You think you're going to slip out of my life, take my child and I'm going to pretend nothing happened?"

"No! No... I just... I didn't want you to feel trapped. I WANT you with me.

God, I want you to be acknowledged as the father. I want you to help me through this. But I don't want to force you to. Never that. I want it to be your choice. Oh God, I'm really screwing this up."

Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head back in his seat. His hand remained laced with hers. A gentle reassurance.

"Mulder?"

"The timing sucks, Scully. This isn't going to be easy for either of us. I don't want... I don't want our child to become some sort of pawn. We're going to have to figure out a way to keep him or her safe."

She smiled then. She saw her smile reflected in his eyes. He was going to be all right. This was going to work. It had to. She would allow no other outcome.

"The Bureau..."

He tugged her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Can go to Hell.

Marry me, Scully."

She was shocked silent. She pulled her hand away and shook her head.

"No."

His jaw dropped. "Why?"

"I don't want you marrying me because you HAVE to. Just because I'm pregnant. I don't want that kind of marriage." She looked out the plane window, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes.

She felt him shift in his seat. Looking back, she saw he was standing in the aisle reaching into the overhead compartment. He was rummaging through the zippers of his carry-on.

"Mulder, what are you..."

He snapped the compartment shut and sat back down beside her. He held out his hand. In his palm was a small velvet box. A ring box.

"Mulder..."

"Open it," he insisted.

She took it and opened the lid with a shaking hand. Inside was a ring. A marquise cut emerald flanked on either side with small triangle diamonds.

"I've had it since BEFORE Buffalo. I just... was waiting for the perfect time to give it to you. I don't want to marry you just because you're pregnant."

She looked at him again. His face was closed, as if he was afraid to hope.

"I want to marry you because I love you. So... one more time... Marry me, Scully."

She took his hand and placed the open ring box back in his palm. She saw his face fall and smiled.

"I think you are supposed to put that on me now."

His smile was worth it.

They'd stopped at a pizza place for dinner. This area was famous for its pizza, Eddie had insisted, so he introduced her to something called Old Forge style pizza. It was basic square sicilian with an odd combination of cheeses. Not too bad.

Pulling into their parking spot at the hotel, Hope dug the briefcase out from under her seat. She wouldn't go anywhere without it anymore. Not until she found someone who knew what to do with it.

She said good night to Eddie and headed for her room.

She reached for the door when she heard him shout for her.

"Kid. Hold it."

Looking over at him, she saw him motion her back with his bad hand. She did as instructed, automatically clutching the briefcase in front of her.

She moved back to stand by the car and watched as Eddie pulled his gun and pushed his door open. It wasn't locked. She knew, however, that he'd locked it before they left. He half-crouched as he swept the room with his gun, then stepped back until he was even with her.

"Place is a mess. I guess housecleaning didn't like my tip, eh?" He touched her shoulder lightly then handed her his car keys. "Get in the car, and be ready to peel outta here if I say. I'll get our things."

Hope nodded and followed orders.

From the driver's seat she watched Eddie make a similar sweep of her room. She could see the mess through the door. The room had been trashed. Someone knew where they were. Someone had been looking for the briefcase. Most likely the same someone she'd seen in the library this afternoon.

Eddie came back to the car with her weekender bag. He tossed it in at her.

"I'll get my things. We're outta here. Watch it, kiddo. I think Mr. Pookie's gonna need a patch job. Someone doesn't like stuffed animals."

He left her to rummage through her crumpled things as he went back to his room.

Some asshole had stabbed her teddy bear and pulled out some of his stuffing. Bastards. What did they think she was gonna hide in there? Her hand flew to her chest, fingers probing and feeling the lump in her bra. The sample case.

Eddie came back and she scooted over to the passenger seat. His luggage was just as rumpled.

"You drive. I'll get in back and try to sort this mess." She sighed as she hopped over the back of the seat.

"I'm gonna hit the turnpike. Get us to Washington tonight instead of tomorrow. More people there. Maybe it'll be easier for us to get lost," he said over his shoulder as they pulled out.

Or get swallowed up. Hope kept this disquieting thought to herself as she refolded her underwear. She wouldn't be able to stomach wearing any of these clothes until they were washed. The thought of some slimeball pawing through her clothing made her want to puke.

She put her things in order again and set to work on Eddie's. She giggled.

Boxers with little hearts on them?

"Hey, hey! Keep the personal comments to the minimum, little Miss Priss. I didn't expect you to be goin' through my drawers. Least I left the Superman Underoos at home." He winked at her in the rear view mirror.

Eddie wasn't as lighthearted as he was trying to appear. The fact that their rooms had been searched cramped his gut. They could have a tail right now. The people looking for the files Hope had were not playing games.

They'd killed Dr. J so far. The only thing keeping Hope alive, he figured, was the fact that they had kept the files with them. Safe, so far. From here on out, Hope was going to stay either well holed up or out in complete public.

He looked in the rear view mirror once again st see her wielding a small sewing kit. Her long fingers deftly repairing her stuffed bear.

"Your first patient, huh?" He saw her meet his eyes and was struck by the determination there. They were not really the eyes of the kid he named her.

"My first transplant." She replaced the kit in her gym bag and zipped it up before climbing back over the seat into the passenger side. She buckled up and held the ragged looking teddy in her lap. "Remember something, Eddie. Mr. Pookie has always been good at keeping my secrets." She flashed him a smile then turned her eyes back to the road. The turnpike toll booth was just ahead.

Cross cursed under his breath and waited for the man to answer the phone.

On the third ring he heard the line get picked up.

"It's me. I lost the girl. She wasn't in school at all today. The cops are linking her as a suspect in the good doctor's death. No luck finding the briefcase either. I did find that her father had hired a PI to try and locate the kid's birth parents. Guess what... the PI is also missing."

"She's in Pennsylvania, heading for DC. Mr. Cross, maintaining the position of the project is the main concern here. I want the files retrieved, but I do not want the girl harmed. Do I make myself clear? She cannot understand what is in those files. She is a security risk only as long as those files remain

unsecured. Use your own discretion with the man, however."

Cross cracked his knuckles. He didn't understand what was up. But he knew questions were not tolerated. The man had no compunctions against allowing Cross to eliminate the doctor. Why worry about some too-full-of-herself kid?

"Yeah. I understand. Only worry about the file. Got it."

"Good. You should hurry. DC is a big place." Cross could here him exhale smoke, could almost smell it over the line.

"I'm on my way." Cross cut the connection and headed his car towards Washington DC.

Chapter 7 - Till Bowed They Angrily Acquiesce

Ok. Scully had had enough. She squirmed in the passenger seat of the rental car for the last time before turning her full angry glare on her partner.

"Will you STOP that?"

Mulder quickly pulled his eyes off of her, realizing he'd been caught.

"What?" he asked, all innocence.

"That. That... sidelong glances. That constant almost staring. An alien is not about to suddenly erupt from my rib cage. I did not suddenly develop horns. My hair did not turn green. It's me. The same me I was yesterday.

The same me I was a week ago. The same me I was a year ago. So stop fucking staring at me and put your eyes on the goddamn ROAD!"

Mulder straightened in his seat. He muttered something under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Scully crossed her arms and glared.

"I said HORMONES. Jesus, Scully, believe it or not you are not the same Scully you were a year ago. You're pregnant. We're pregnant. You're carrying my baby inside of you. I don't know. It feels weird. But it also feels kinda good, you know. And I guess I just see you differently now."

His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

She arched an eyebrow. "WE'RE pregnant? Please feel free to tell me when you experience you first bout of morning sickness. This I'd like to see."

"That's not what I meant...." He suddenly looked at her. "You've been sick?

You didn't tell me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Mulder I'm two months along. What do you think clued me in? And believe it or not, having long discussions with you over my regurgitative techniques is not high on my to do list. Yes, I have been having morning sickness. It passes. I move on. What do you mean you see me differently?" She stared hard at him, daring him to come up with the right answer to that one.

He shrugged. "Just different. You've always been this strong, independent figure. I don't know, maybe I have this goddess complex or something. I mean, I was always very aware of you as a woman... don't get me wrong, but you only ever seemed really- soft, vulnerable- I guess, in bed. Now I look at you and I see the mother of my child. I guess I see you in my mind's eye... filling out. Before you were the most important thing in my life.

Now, in the past three hours you've managed to become the two most important things in my life."

Scully's face softened and she smiled, placing her hand on top of his on the steering wheel. He left go and guided the car one handed as he laced his fingers with hers.

"I guess I'll let you live," she grinned. "Mulder, you are the only person in the world who - in less than three minutes - can make me go from wanting to strangle you to wanting to throw you in the back seat and make love to you for hours. And if I hear the word Hormones come out of your mouth again, I really will strangle you," she warned.

"Hmmm... option two sounds mighty appealing, Agent Scully. However, we're here." His eyes twinkled with mischief as he stopped the car. They were in front of a burned-out shell of a house. The blackened husk was a grim reminder that whatever went on in their lives, the world moved on.

Scully released his hand and pulled the file from its resting place between them. "The report says the fire was set in three places. The body was in the first floor foyer. Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head.

Preliminary examination of the house reveals robbery might have been the motive." She unbuckled and slipped out of the car. It was getting dark out so they didn't have much time to check out the house.

Mulder accepted the switch from Dana to Agent Scully with equanimity, and matched her pace. He caught up to her and held the yellow tape up and out of her way. They had permission to be here thanks to a brief stop at the local field office a half hour earlier.

The smell of burnt wood and charred fabric was cloying as she pushed open the blackened door. Switching on her flashlight, she played the beam over the damage. It was a surreal landscape of black on black. She sensed Mulder hesitate behind her before following. His flashlight beam joining hers in an orderly dance over alien surfaces.

She could feel his discomfort surround her, yet she wouldn't comment on it. Fire. She knew he feared it. Dreaded it as if it were a living thing that sought to destroy him. But this wasn't living flames. Just the blackened excreta that marked the monster's passing.

"What are we looking for?" she asked as she moved carefully into what was once a living room. The charred framework of furniture, the seared brickwork of a fireplace, blackened picture frames...

She slipped a latex glove over her right hand then picked up a picture frame. The glass was covered in soot. A few wipes of her thumb over the oily substance revealed a water damaged photo. A young girl with her arm around a German shepherd.

"I'm not sure. Maybe nothing. I just felt like I needed to see the place."

Mulder let his flashlight illuminated a pile of melted VCR tapes, the smashed TV screen, burnt books. He bent to pick up a singed photo album.

The first three pages were beyond help, but the fourth and subsequent pages were only charred at the edges. The pictures were slightly bubbled from heat damage, but he could make them out. A nice ordinary family. A mother, a father and a little girl. He snuck a quick peek at Scully. It could be his family one day... one day soon.

He almost hissed when he turned the page to reveal a picture of a little girl sitting at a poolside. The girl was eight or nine in the picture. Sam. It was almost a double of the picture he had on his desk at the office. Almost.

Only this child's hair was in pigtails not braids. Her swimsuit was different, more modern. The picture was also in color. But the resemblance shook him to the core and sent a chill up his spine.

There was something going on here. Something beyond the little information he'd been e-mailed. He wanted to know who his anonymous source was for this case. And why in Hell he was seeing pictures of a kid that could be his sister's double. He shivered as he stood. Or her clone.

Eddie turned from the Capitol Beltway onto the Richmond Highway.

Looking over at his passenger, he sighed.

Hope was asleep. Curled into a ball around the battered teddy bear. She didn't look seventeen under the passing street lights; she looked ten.

Despite her earlier resilience, he was struck again at the fact that she was still a child. A child who had somehow become lost in a maze of mystery even he was having trouble figuring out.

How the hell did a bunch of papers in the foreign, indecipherable language of science, some unknown person's DNA sample, DelMark Labs and that smokestack character fit together? How did an FBI agent fit in? Did he?

Which was the red herring: Hope's birth parents or the mysterious file? Did either of them mean anything?

Eddie winced. He was getting a headache from too much thinking.

He finally pulled into a Red Roof Inn. Three stories of economy heaven.

He reached over and shook Hope awake.

"Hmmm... we there yet?"

"Yeah, kiddo. We're there. Stay here while I get us a room. If ya don't mind sharin'..." Eddie opened the car door.

Hope waved at him. "Fine. Just don't snore, Kline."

He returned with their room key and unloaded their two small bags of luggage. Hope carried the briefcase.

The room was small, but it had two double beds. Hope stumbled past Eddie into the bathroom.

He set their bags down and sat on the bed. He was dead tired. He heard the sink running then the toilet flush. Hope reappeared, and fell onto the bed Eddie hadn't claimed.

"'Night, Eddie," she curled into a ball again, and in no time was snoring softly.

Eddie went over and pulled off her sneakers before covering her with the blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed. Paternal urges covered, he toed off his own shoes, locked the door, tucked a chair under the knob for good measure and climbed into his own bed. He thumbed the safety on his glok and shoved it under his pillow before falling asleep. Satisfied that his was the bed closest to the door, between the world and the kid sleeping in the same room.

His last thought before sleep took him was that tomorrow he was gonna pay a visit to the J. Edger Hoover Building.

Devon Cross was pissed off. He had a couple of hours till he arrived in DC, but then what? Call around to all the hotels in the area? Most likely. IF the kid and the PI were even listed under their own names. He was being sent after a needle in a haystack.

If he only knew what the two were looking for in DC, maybe he could head them off...

Chapter 8 - To That Which Foul Deeds Are Done

They sat in a corner booth of an old silver diner. Mulder had gotten photocopies of the contents of the fireproof lock box the investigators had found in the house. All Dr. Robert Jamison's important papers were inside.

Insurance information, W2 forms, bank papers, a will, medical papers.

Mulder and Scully skimmed through them after they'd finished their food and lingered over their drinks.

"Nothing incriminating as far as I can see, unless you count that Hope Jamison is the only heir named in Dr. Jamison's will. It's possible she did it, Mulder. The estate is worth four hundred thousand. People have killed for less." Scully passed the photocopy of the will to Mulder as she sipped the last of her soda through a straw.

"I don't think she did, Scully. Just call it a gut instinct. Something strange is

going on here involving Hope Jamison, I agree. I just don't think she's the killer."

Scully sighed and moved on to the next photocopy. "Well here's something interesting. She was adopted. Just three days after she was born."

Mulder looked up. Now why wasn't he surprised? Mostly because the pictures they had of the Jamisons showed a plain enough looking couple who looked nothing like their child. If Hope was a clone...

"Where was she adopted from? Does it name an agency?" Mulder held out his hand for the papers.

"Gift of Life agency out of Scranton, Pennsylvania. It was an open adoption. Everything's listed but the father's name, so it should be easy to check up on." She handed over the papers and dug into her purse looking for the money for a tip.

Scully set three dollars on the table and started to get up but froze, struck instantly by her partner's face. He was as white as a sheet, and his mouth hung open. His blank stare was fixed on the papers she'd handed to him.

His whole posture was beyond alarming.

"Mulder?" Scully placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The eyes that looked up into hers were lost. No, terrified. "I... I gotta get out of here. Gotta get some air."

He stood and dropped a twenty on the table before walking past Scully and into the parking lot.

"Mulder?" She snatched up the papers and shoved them into their file before she hurried after him. "Mulder, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. Look, Scully, I'll meet you back at the hotel. It's only a few blocks away... I just need... I need to be alone for a little bit."

She felt like some sort of wall had just been thrown up. She'd crashed into it and couldn't even measure its dimensions. How could she fathom how to move around it, or climb over it without knowing what it was?"Talk to me." She pleaded.

"I... I will. I promise... just give me a little time, will you? Please."

She was defeated and she knew it. She really had no idea what had caused this sudden, inexplicable change in her partner, friend, lover... It had caused the fine hairs at the base of her neck to rise.

"Ok. I'll be waiting. Whatever it is, Mulder, you can trust me."

He nodded, not seeming to even really see her, and it made her want to hit him. If he wanted to withdraw for some reason, fine. But he better be willing to talk to her eventually or she'd wring his neck.

He handed her the car keys and walked away, leaving her standing alone under the parking lot lights of a dinky little diner in Cleveland.

A completely open adoption. He would have laughed if he were capable of it. His photographic memory played the adoption papers over and over in his mind. The name of the adoptive parents, the lawyer, the birth mother and the blank space for the birth father. Only one name mattered. Connie Anne McKenzie.

It could have been some freak coincidence. Could have been, except McKenzie wasn't all that common a name, not spelled like that anyway. He couldn't feel his legs as he walked, wasn't even completely aware of where he was going.

Connie Anne McKenzie. His memory played back a face he had never really forgotten. Soft brown hair surrounding a rectangular face, large brown eyes, the lingering scent of lilacs. She'd been the first girl he'd ever loved. She was a junior, and he was a senior in high school. Not all that uncommon. It had taken him weeks to work up the nerve to ask her out.

Her acceptance had come as a surprise.

They'd lost their virginity to each other in the back of his father's car. It had

been awkward and clumsy the first time, and not really all that great. But it had gotten better. Lots better. He could still almost hear Connie laughing at one of his jokes.

Then, one day, she was gone. Her parents never liked him, and wouldn't tell him anything. He got a note a week after she left saying she was with an aunt and it was better that way. That they never could have worked anyway.

Connie Anne McKenzie had had a kid. A little girl. She'd given that little girl up for adoption.

Mulder found himself leaning against a building, his breath coming in short little gasps. Connie Anne McKenzie had given birth to a little girl. She had had a daughter on February 10th, 1979. Exactly six months after he'd last seen her. A little girl who looked just like Samantha.

Fox Mulder fell to his knees and was sick all over the sidewalk three blocks from his hotel. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. It had to be a set up - some vast convoluted plot.

Except who would have known about Connie?

He felt the cold concrete dig into his knees through his slacks. No one knew about Connie. No one but his parents, who had discouraged him way back then. No one at all.

Connie had given birth to a daughter. A daughter. His daughter.

The lights of DC sparkled before him. Great. He was here. Now what? He picked up his phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

"Yes?" The voice on the other end was impatient.

"I'm here. Now what? Where is she taking the files?"

"I have an idea." The voice was playing with him. He was a mouse in the cruel claws of some sadistic cat.

"Feel like sharing it?" Cross growled impatiently.

"I think she is looking for Special Agent Fox Mulder, of the F.B.I. I don't know if she'll try to go directly to the FBI Headquarters or his home, though."

"You have GOT to be kidding me." Cross mumbled. "The Feds? You think she's going to the fucking Feds and have just now deigned to inform me of this? That can't be allowed to happen. Especially Mulder. Jesus, the whole project can get blown out of the water..."

"Shut up. Your only concern is retrieving those files. Preferably before she finds Mulder. That means you are going to have to work quickly. I already have his home watched. You are to watch the FBI headquarters. Mulder is out of town on a brief trip. This leaves you a limited amount of time in which to work. Don't call me again until you have those files." The phone buzzed in his ear.

Cross threw the phone at the passenger side door. Fuck him. He should have been told about this little kink in the works beforehand.

Cross drove for the heart of DC. He had to find the best vantage point to watch the building in question. It opened for general business around nine in the morning.

Hope snuggled down in her covers, her face scrunching as the dream took her.

She was afraid. Something dark and evil was chasing her through a tunnel.

A tunnel without light. The walls were closing in on her, no air... there was no air... She stumbled in the darkness and tried to push back the walls as they pressed slowly in. She fell to her knees as the ceiling pushed on her head. She sobbed against the fear that froze her. She was going to die.

Crushed to death in the closing space, suffocated by the lack of air, or devoured by the thing that she could feel growing closer.

Then the walls were gone. She was in a vast open space. Laying on her back in an open field. She felt a soft, warm touch on her forehead, but saw no one. The faint scent of lilacs tickled her nose. Then she heard it. The singing.

Hush little baby don't say a word, Mamma's gonna buy you a mocking bird, And if that mocking bird don't sing, Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

The voice was soft and throaty as it sang. A woman's voice. One she hadn't heard before.

Hope relaxed in her sleep. Her tight grip on the hotel blanket relaxed and the tension flowed out of her. She slept on feeling warm and safe and loved.

Scully heard the door to the adjoining room close. She went to the unlocked door between their rooms and flung it open.

Mulder didn't even look at her as he walked into the bathroom and ran water in the sink. She watched him splash handfuls of the chlorine scented wetness onto his face. He turned off the water and she moved to hand him a towel.

She didn't say anything. Her presence was all the pushing he would need right now.

Mulder dried his face and moved back into the hotel room, sitting heavily on the bed.

"I didn't tell you why I was pulled to this case," he said quietly.

"You didn't have to. Hope Jamison looks a little like Sam." She smiled at his startled look. "I'm not blind, Mulder. I've looked at that picture on your desk for four years now. I saw it right away. I knew that was why you took the bait, or whatever it was this informant was feeding you."

He looked almost embarrassed. Scully crouched in front of him, both of her hands reached out to take his. The light near the bed caught and flashed in the emerald of the ring she wore on her left hand.

"I don't know who sent me the e-mail and specifics of this one, Scully. But I do know why." He sighed. "What I can't figure out is how they found out... and where this is leading."

"Mulder, what is it? What has you so upset?"

"When I was eighteen I met this girl. She was a junior at my school. She was... beautiful, smart, sexy in her own way." He looked into Scully's eyes.

There was no hurt there, no flinching from this recitation of a past girlfriend. "She was my first love. My first lover. She's the first girl who ever broke my heart. She just... left. No warning. No goodbyes. She just wasn't there one day. As you can imagine I was hardly her parents dream, and they wouldn't tell me where she was. I got this nice dear Fox letter a week or so later. The usual, it'll never work out bull shit."

"I'm sorry," Scully said it softly. He met her eyes. They weren't just words.

She really was sorry for some long ago hurt.

"Her name was Connie Anne McKenzie. The same name listed as the birth mother of Hope Jamison." His voice cracked, stretched, caught on something in his throat that he had to swallow hard to try to speak around.

"The date of birth on those adoption papers was six months after Connie left me."

He saw the connections snap into place. Watched the color drain from Scully's face. "Ohmygod... It's a coincidence. Or... or you're right it's a set up but for what?"

"Scully, set up or not that girl looks like Sam, she looks like me. I don't know what game is being played here... but there is a pretty damn good chance that this kid is... mine."

Scully's hands tightened on his and she sank from her crouch to sit on the floor. "What... what are you going to do... if she is?"

Mulder laughed. A short, barking sound that held no humor. "I don't know.

I don't know. She never told me. If it's true then this kid doesn't know me from Adam, and she'd probably be better off that way."

Scully shook her head as if to clear it. "No. No, Mulder. If this proves to be true, and that's a big if... but if this proves to be true, then that young woman has no one now. If we find her... WHEN we find her... she's going to need you."

Mulder reached out to stroke Scully's hair. "I don't know what to think right now. It's been one hell of a day."

Scully laughed. "I guess it has. I recommend trying to get some sleep."

"Yeah. Right. That's gonna happen." He sighed.

Scully pushed herself up off the floor and reached out to gently remove Mulder's tie. She bent to remove his shoes as well. "Lay down. Humor me."

He lay back on the bed and wasn't the least surprised when she scooted in beside him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his chest. He reached over and turned out the light. For a long time he lay feeling her holding him and listening to her breathing in the dark.

Chapter 9 - As The Hawk Does Stalk The Dove

Eddie awoke at the sound of the door closing. His eyes scanned the room and he felt a surge of panic. Hope was not there, neither was their bags. He bolted out of the bed, his gun in hand, and checked the bathroom. Nothing.

He turned to make a mad dash for the door when he saw it. A note written on the hotel stationary taped to the dresser mirror.

'Don't want to shower and get back into dirty cloths. Can't stomach wearing the stuff in my bag when God-only-knows who pawed through it.

Went to the Hotel laundry. I'm washing your stuff too. Don't worry, I already saw your underwear.'

No signature, just a large, scrawled H.

That kid was gonna give him a heart attack yet. He found his shoes and slipped them on before shoving his gun back into its clip and hiding it under his shirt. He had to be careful. He wasn't licensed to carry concealed in Virginia, or DC for that matter.

First he was going to check on Hope at the little laundry room of the hotel, then he was going to go get them some breakfast. He had a lot to do today.

He found her sitting in a plastic chair leafing through an old magazine. She looked up. "Hey, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Do. You nearly gave me a heart attack. Don't wander off like that." He sat next to her. "I'm gonna scrounge some breakfast, then we'll shower and change into those clean clothes," he grinned at her, "then I want you to stay put. Here. I have a friend in the FBI. Hellen Matthews. I'm gonna go to the offices in town and see if I can look her up. If I can I'll see what she can tell me about Fox Mulder."

Hope frowned. "You know someone in the FBI?"

"I know twelve agents actually, but Hellen and I got along real well." Eddie thanked God he had a dark enough complexion that the faint blush he felt was most likely unnoticeable.

"How do you know FBI agents? Lots of federal cases while you were on the force?" Hope tilted her head to the side, as if trying to view him differently.

"Nope. Field Police Training Program. I took two weeks of training at Quantico as part of a federal/local cooperative program. I made some friends. Just promise me you'll stay put."

Hope nodded. "Ok. I guess it's a good thing this place has cable."

Cross leaned heavily against the car door. He was tired and cranky, and he'd just gotten off the phone with someone who'd been pretty interested in what he had to say.

Keeping from harming the girl was not only a waste of effort, it could jeopardize the whole mission, and the project. The situation had not sat well with Cross. Something was up, and while he knew better than to ask what, he did call someone higher up and present his case, calmly, logically.

Luckily the big man understood. He had been unaware of the previous ban, and had rescinded it.

An hour ago, a messenger dressed as a jogger had tapped on the car window and handed Cross a envelope. Inside was an FBI Visitor's badge, V.I.P.

Cross lay the badge on the seat and resumed his vigil.

He had a long to wait, however, at eleven thirty he saw his objective. The man was tall and stocky, with brown hair shot through with gray. He wore a gray suit and a dark blue tie. He passed right in front of Cross' car and up the stairs to the J. Edger Hoover Building.

Objective in sight Cross got out and followed, clipping on his badge as he went. He wasn't about to lose sight of Edward Kline.

Mulder awoke to a room already touched by sunlight.

Amazing. He had slept. But then, Scully always had been a calming influence. She was on her side, facing away from him. During the night they had turned so that he was spooning her. One arm was tucked under his head, his hand completely asleep. His other arm was curled over her, that hand resting lightly against her stomach as if in sleep he had sought to touch the new life growing there, to protect it.

Funny, she didn't feel any different. Not even the slightest swelling. How long did that take? When it happened the secret would be out. The game would be up. They'd have to pay the piper.

He lightly stroked her abdomen.

"Please don't." Her voice startled him; she was awake after all.

"You ok?" He moved to perch on his elbow, allowing the blood to flow back into his sleeping hand.

"I'm fine, Mulder. Just... go for a run or something. I have to lay here for a little bit."

She couldn't see him pale, or swallow hard. She was sick. Morning sickness. And he was at least partly to blame.

"Can I get you anything?" He eased off the bed, trying hard to keep it from shifting much under his weight.

"Saltines. They're in my carry on. Just leave them on the nightstand and take a run. You probably need to clear your head a bit anyway. I'll be fine, and if you stick around and hover over me I will not be responsible for my actions." Her voice was muffled against her arm. She was laying very still, as if afraid the slightest movement would set her running for the bathroom.

He retrieved the crackers and placed them as ordered. "Are you sure? I mean I feel I should do something..."

"What? What are you going to do other than sit in a chair as I lay here and look all guilty and stare at me until I loose my temper again? Nothing. I'm fine. This will pass in an hour or so, and I'll be perfectly fine for the rest of

the day. So do us both a favor and go for a run."

Simple, direct and to the point. That was his Scully. She was right. It didn't make him feel any better, but she was right. She was the type who preferred to be alone when they were sick.

"Alright. I'll go for a run. I personally think this is all a ploy to get me into

my jogging shorts though." He managed a weak smile.

"And the gray tee shirt. The sleeveless one. You know how I like that tee shirt." She was laying there, perfectly still and nauseous, and making jokes.

He shook his head in silent wonder and went to change into his jogging outfit.

By the time he returned and showered, Scully was up and torturing her hair with an instrument of the inquisition currently put out by Conair.

"I called the local police while you were out, Mulder. They've traced some checks from Dr. Jamison's account to a PI in town. This guy specializes in helping adoptees search for their birth parents. He does the usual cheating spouses and insurance fraud work as well, but his specialty certainly looks more then coincidental." Scully unplugged her curling iron and brushed out her hair as she spoke. "And the PI, one Edward Kline, happens to be missing. Last his neighbors saw of him was him leaving with a young woman and a suitcase. Sounds like a lead to me."

She applied just a touch of eyeliner, lipstick and some powder. Morning ritual done.

"I thought you were going to lay still and try not to be sick." Mulder stepped out of the shower and toweled off.

"The phone was right there, Mulder." She shrugged. "Now get dressed. I'm feeling much better and want some breakfast."

They discussed their options over breakfast.

"So our best bet is to find Connie. I don't think Hope has anywhere else to go. But first we check out DelMark Biotech and find out exactly what Dr.

Jamison was working on." Scully finished off her cereal.

"I agree that's our best next step, but this kid has proven pretty resourcful so far, she might not go searching for Connie. I just hope this PI she ran to can be trusted." Mulder hadn't really eaten anything. He just pushed his scrambled eggs around his plate.

Scully smiled to herself. If Hope Jamison was indeed Mulder's daughter, then resourcefulness must be a family trait. "Mulder, the local PD back Kline up. He was a former vice cop. A real straight arrow. His last case had him involved with an IA sting that caught three of his fellow officers stealing and reselling cocaine on the street."

"So why isn't he still a cop?" Mulder pushed his hashbrowns into his eggs.

"The cops he helped bust were not too thrilled, one of them managed to kock him down and shoot him. Didn't kill him, or even aim to, what they did do was shoot off two fingers of his gun hand, forcing him to either take a desk job, run dispatch or quit. A twisted sort of revenge." Scully tapped his hand with her spoon. "Don't play with your food. Eat."

"Yes, mom." He teased, then looked thoughtful. It was true now, wasn't it?

She was going to be a mother. He was going to be a father. He might already be a father... genetically speaking.

"Mulder, we'll find her." Scully's soft reassurence only gained a stiff nod.

They'd find her. They had to. But... then what?

Chapter 10 - Elusive Dreams Shatter With Morn

Delmark Biomed
Cleveland, OH

The building was a model of modern architecture. White and glass, three stories set off by the surrounding landscaped property.

Inside was bright and glistening. Sterile. Mulder and Scully were met by a crisp, smiling receptionist who led them to the crisp, smiling director of the facility. Dr. Gary Rossi was remarkable only in his unremarkability. He was plain of face, slightly balding, average hight, average build, brown hair, brown eyes, brown suit. An immaculate suit, but rather dull for all its neatness.

He gestured for them to have a seat in his office. Scully accepted, but Mulder remained standing.

"I understand you want to know about our recently departed colleague. A real tragedy. Dr. Jamison will be missed." The sad look that settled across his features did not appear to go much deeper. A public face making the appropriate responses.

"Him or his work?" Mulder met the director's eyes, his face carefully blank, a mask to counter the other man. A game of masks. They would have to peel away the false faces to find the barest hint of what lay beneath.

"Dr. Jamison was an excellent researcher and employee, but we will miss the man as WELL as the work."

"What, exactly, was Dr. Jamison working on?" Scully inquired, keeping her own professional mask in place.

"Cataloging genetic codes for cancer research. We are looking to isolate the genetic factor that predisposes people to cancer. If we can isolate this factor we may be able to prevent the disease from ever manifesting itself in certain individuals." Dr. Rossi spread his hands. "Nothing top secret."

"Yet if the factor were isolated that information would be worth a lot of money wouldn't it?" Scully pressed.

"Yes. It would. But it has yet to be found."

"We have information that Dr. Jamison may have taken documents from this facility. Perhaps he found it and didn't tell you." Mulder leaned against a bookcase lining one wall.

Not so much as a muscle twitch of reaction from Dr. Rossi. "Quite impossible. The equipment we use records all information passing through it. It can only be retrieved with the proper passwords, which Dr. Jamison did not have. If such a thing had happened we would also have that information, and be making a public announcement about it." Rossi tilted his head to the side and went on, "Besides, Dr. Jamison was a model employee. He wouldn't take anything. I'm afraid your information is wrong."

"Could we see what he was working on the day he died?" Scully made the request, but there was a hint of demand behind it.

"Of course. Follow me."

He led them through a maze of corridors that made Mulder wonder if they'd find cheese or peanut butter at the next turn. At last they came to a lab. It was perfectly ordered. Dr. Rossi took some thick files from the outbox near the door.

"The last few scans he ran prior to leaving work."

Scully opened the first file and viewed a series of numbers and found the sheet of film mapping the subject of the file's genetic code. Behind the sheets of numbers was a standard medical chart for a 35 year old white female from Illinois.

"Where is the sample?" she asked. The question didn't seem to startle Dr.

Rossi. He moved to a drawer and pulled it out. Inside were rows of compartments, each containing a numbered plastic case. Each little plastic case contained a tissue sample.

The memory of the last time he'd seen such containers played through Mulder's mind. They, too, were linked to medical files. Lots and lots of medical files. And it wasn't in any research facility but a dark West Virginian Mine tunnel.

Dr. Rossi checked the number on the chart and found the corresponding numbered case. "Here it is." He handed it to Scully. She looked at it and handed it back.

"Thank you doctor." Her eyes met Mulder's. They declared she didn't think they'd get anything else here. They also announced that she was suspicious as hell.

"Could we talk to any of Dr. Jamison's friends?" Mulder thumbed through the files in the In box.

"Of course. There are a few people he's been known to lunch with and spend off hours with. I'll arrange meetings."

Two hours later, they were on their way back to the local field office.

"Well, that was interesting," Mulder muttered under his breath.

"Yes," Scully sighed and leaned back into her seat, "They were very good at telling us nothing at all. Did you notice the empty rack on the work counter next to Dr. Jamison's computer and microscope? I don't know a researcher anywhere who keeps their specimen racks empty. Those are usually holding work in progress, close at hand. That place was cleaned up, Mulder. They were covering something."

Mulder nodded. "The work in the In box was dated the day before yesterday. The day Rob Jamison was killed. But shouldn't that stuff have been dated from the day before? He put in a full day of work prior to his death."

"So the question remains; what did Dr. Jamison take from Delmark, and why? I'm beginning to agree with you, I don't think Hope is a suspect. I think she's been dragged into something." Scully crossed her arms and stared out the windshield.

"Scully, don't start changing your views just because she COULD be my daughter. That has yet to be conclusively proven. She could be a clone, and the whole adoption thing a cover, or a sick joke."

"I'm not that easy, Mulder. I've got as many doubts as you about the girl.

But the little song and dance back there was enough to convince me Dr.

Jamison died because of something to do with his work. NOT because of his daughter. Besides, if this Kline character is a street smart type, I don't think he'd be easily suckered by a sob story from a teenager. He's helping the girl. I'm not sure why yet, but I can't picture someone like the person I heard about risking everything for someone they were suspicious of."

Eddie looked through the milling throng of suits and regulation haircuts.

Most of these people look like carbon copies of each other, he mused. But there, sitting at a desk by a window, was Hellen Matthews.

Her black hair was clipped short and had been straightened, it kind of reminded him of Demi Moore's in Ghost. She was typing on her computer as he drew near. He watched her absently push her wire framed glasses back up on her upturned little nose.

He leaned over the desk. "Boo."

"Eeek, it's a mouse," she drawled as she continued to work, "what're you doing in town, Calvin?" She hadn't even flinched or paused in her typing, but the corner of her mouth twitched up.

"Nice greeting, Mat. You on valium or something? Last time an old pal showed up unexpected on ME I almost jumped outta my skin." He perched on the corner of her desk.

"Calvin, they had to call me to clear you to get in here. You weren't THAT big a surprise. So what're you doing in town?" She punched the enter key with something close to violence and turned to face him. Her chocolate brown eyes raked over him, making him shift uncomfortably.

She was still a killer in the looks department. Still had a knock out figure, and her cinnamon colored skin showed very few signs of age. What was it Boyd had called her when they were all taking the training program... oh yeah, coffee with just the right touch of cream.

"I'm working on a case. I needed some insider information from the Bureau, so I decided to look you up." He looked down to see scattered pictures of three elderly women, all bludgeoned to death by the look of it.

Hellen Matthews was a Special Agent working out of the Violent Criminal Apprehension Unit. She worked with the Investigative Support Unit occasionally, although she was not a full time profiler.

"Can you tear yourself away for lunch?" he asked at the lull in conversation.

"Calvin, you don't do more than send birthday and Christmas cards and throw me an occasional phone call for four years, then waltz in here ready to pick my brains for information to help you on some private dick case of yours... I aint your fibby whore." She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Which means you better be buyin'."

He grinned at her. "Of course I'm buyin'. I know how to show a lady a good time."

"Really? Our last date was bursting into the post office in Hogan's Alley. If I remember correctly you got yourself shot in the ass and took a dive into the outgoing mail chute." She smiled. "I believe the instructor gave you points for creative dodging."

Kline laughed. Hogan's Alley was the Academy training ground. A realistic mock town where training was done in tactics and street scenarios. The shot he'd taken in the ass was green paint.

"Ok, but don't expect me to break any disclosure vows, or anything like that. I can't promise you anything. I know just the place, too." She stood up and retrieved her jacket from the back of her chair.

"How much is my wallet gonna scream?" he asked, offering her his arm, which she promptly slapped away.

"Not much. You still like hot food, because I know this little bar that makes killer wings."

"Mat, you don't like hot food." He looked surprised.

"Nope, but Brandy's also makes one of the world's best burgers." She preceded him into the elevator.

Cross watched Kline and a black woman exit the lobby elevator. He'd hadn't had to wait around long. He'd avoided suspicion by wandering about determinedly, looking like he knew where he was going.

He hung back as they left through the front doors, dodging a wave of tourists. He managed to keep Kline in sight and note what car he was driving. Still hanging back, he got into his own car. He pulled into traffic and followed five cars behind.

Mulder held the door open for Scully as they entered the field office. Agent Scaramastro was waiting for them at his little desk. The kid was as green as they got, and eager to prove useful to someone. His eagerness was alternately annoying and endearing. If he could avoid becoming an asshole blueflamer, he'd make a great agent some day.

"Agents, I ran searches on that name you gave me. Um... Connie Anne McKenzie, married George Daugherty in 1981 in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

Deceased in 1990, according to the coroners report it was due to massive bodily injuries inflicted by the same George Daugherty. No listed descendants or family. I also checked George Daugherty in case you wanted that information too. He was found hanging in the showers of the Scranton Prison in 1991. Didn't appear to be suicide either, but, no one has yet been charged."

Agent Scaramastro handed the file to Scully who smiled her thanks. She peered at Mulder out of the corner of her eye. His mask was back on, but she saw the tight jaw, the twitching muscle there, the stiff spine.

She hated this. Connie was dead, denying Mulder the kind of confrontational release he needed. She couldn't defend herself or offer him answers. Yet she also knew on some level it must have hurt Mulder to learn how she had died.

"Mulder, let's see if we can get a flight to Scranton. They still might have traced Connie that far."

He only nodded. She sighed. Not here. She couldn't offer her sympathy, couldn't embrace him and offer that simple comfort here, in public. So she settled for laying her hand on his arm.

"Let's go," she said softly.

Chapter 11 - And Over All The Triumph Of Love

Eddie signaled the waitress and placed their orders before starting in on Hellen.

"What I really need is... I don't know, personal evaluation, rumors that sort of thing, on one of your fellow agents. I'm working on a case he might be involved in."

Hellen shook her head, "So you plan on finding all the weaknesses to interrogate him and horn in on his investigation? It aint like you Eddie."

"Not at all. As far as I know this particular agent isn't involved in this investigation in any official capacity. He also isn't a suspect, as I really doubt he was in the area of the... um... crimes committed. I can't tell you how he's linked to this, only that he is." Eddie sipped at his beer.

"And just what *IS* this? Who are you interested in, Calvin?" She leaned forward in the booth resting her elbows on the table and pinning him with a pair of dark brown daggers.

"A local gene doc got whacked two days ago. I was working for him. Stuff is getting crazy. I just want to clear everything up and move on." He wasn't lying so he met her gaze unflinchingly. Hellen was great at interrogation, he'd seen her work. Unfortunately for her he also knew HOW she worked.

"Come on Hellen, I can't tell ya more than that. The doc wasn't the only one involved here, I have other interests, personal ones. I swear I won't ask anything that would be a breach of security."

She snorted, "As if I'd answer. Go ahead, ask away."

"Do you know an agent named Fox Mulder?" Kline scratched at the label of his beer with a fingernail.

"Spooky? Geez, Kline, what kind of case are you on? ET land in the victim's back yard?"

Eddie looked up, "Huh?"

"Spooky Mulder. Oh hell, he was, I guess still is, one of the bureau's best profilers. Once upon a time he was the golden boy of ISU, rumor had it he was in line to take over after Patterson. But he... I dunno, got sidetracked.

Started lookin into freaky shit right outta the twilight zone and beyond. He found a bunch a cases marked as unsolved cause they involved this kind of crap. Bigfoot, Nessie, but especially little green men. Mulder eats up all the alien abduction stuff you find in the Globe or a half dozen rags. I don't know what's crazier, that he wants to look into that kinda stuff, that the Bureau lets him or that he and the Mrs actually have a seventy five percent solve rate."

The waitress dropped off their food and Eddie barely noticed. "So he's a nut case?"

"I didn't say that. I said he was... spooky. The weirdest thing isn't the solve rate, it's that his division, a division of TWO I might add, was taken out from the jurisdiction of VICAP and put under the direct control of the AD.

Mulder doesn't answer to Blevins like the rest of us. He only answers to Skinner. Some people make remarks about brown nosin' but that ain't Spooky. Hell, he once cracked Skinner in the jaw for no reason right there in the hall of headquarters. Everyone was getting in on the 'When are they gonna fire the Spookster' pool then. Too much weird shit goes on around Spooky and his Mrs. Those who stick their heads up their asses laugh at them, those with eyes stay away from them for fear the crap they get into might rub off, and the rest... the rest reserve judgment."

"Which category to you fall in? And who's the Mrs?" Kline noticed his wings at last and picked one up, taking a bite. Hellen was right, this place did know how to make them. His sinuses were immediately cleared out and he lost contact with his lips...

"Me, I think I'm in the last category. And the Mrs is his partner. Mrs Spooky. Real name's Dana Scully, and she's a chop doc. Pretty damn good too. If you want the in-house talk on them, half the Bureau thinks they're doing the horizontal lambada, the other half are making bets on how long it'll be before she shoots him again." Hellen bit into her burger with gusto.

"You?"

She swallowed her mouthful, "You know me Kline, I play it safe with my money. I have ten bucks in each pool."

So much for a nice relaxing lunch, Marty sighed to himself. The woman seated across for him had her head tilted to the side and was actively evesdropping on the people in the booth behind her. She didn't usually do that kind of thing but he knew he'd lost her immediate attention the minute the rather loud exclamation of "Spooky?" came from that direction.

He watched Jackie's eyes darken in response to whatever was being said.

Someone was bad mouthing Mulder and St. George considered that the exclusive job of herself and Dana Scully. No one else had the right to horn in on the fun. However, she knew better then to rise to her friend's defense in situations like this. Nah, she saved her fights for when they had a chance of getting violent, nothing like a good brawl to make the day.

"You plan on finishing that?" Marty indicated the steak and cheese on Jackie's plate.

"Sure. Be quiet." She proceeded to work on her lunch as she listened in.

"You certainly know how to make a guy feel important." He grinned across the table, refusing to flinch at her glare.

In a half hour, St. George had dug out the money for her lunch. "I feel like playing follow the leader, wanna come along?"

Marty looked up, only mildly surprised. "Now what?"

"When someone is fishing for information on Mulder it usually leads to trouble. Do you really think I wanna miss this party? Come on, let's see where this guy goes."

Marty slid out of his seat and followed St. George. She pointed out of the front window to a couple getting into a gray sedan.

What the hell, he didn't have anything better to do today.

The commuter flight took an hour. It was spent mostly in silence. It was not a comfortable silence. It was only as their flight began to approach the airport that Mulder spoke.

"She didn't deserve that." It was almost a whisper.

Scully lay her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. "No one does, Mulder.

No one."

"She hated her parents, you know, but at the same time she defied them she wanted their approval so badly. I guess every kid goes through that stage.

The funny thing is I never really knew if she loved me, or saw me as one more way to strike out at her parents."

"I don't know what to tell you, Mulder. I can't know what she may have thought and done eighteen years ago. I never met her. But, if it makes you feel any better, I adored my father. He would have hated you." She smiled at the slight upturn of his mouth at that. "And if he were alive today I'd still love you. Still marry you. Not out of defiance, but out of devotion."

"Thanks, Scully. You really think he would have hated me?"

She chuckled. "Without a doubt. You have crazy ideas, you're a liberal with a bad sense of organization and no respect for authority. But your worst crime is you are involved with me. No one would have been good enough."

"Not to mention, I'm not a good little Catholic boy." The smile was back.

The pain wasn't gone, but it was manageable for now.

"Mulder, you aren't even a good little Jewish boy so don't go there."

"But your mom likes me." He was stroking his thumb against the back of her hand as he held it. Light little circles that were proving quite distracting.

"Yeah, well, I never told her about your terrible bathroom etiquette."

Now it was Scully's turn to be uncomfortable. She stood just behind Mulder, feeling the damp chill waft around her. They were surrounded by gravestones jutting up like broken, jagged teeth in neat little rows.

They'd found where Connie had been buried through an old obituary.

They'd found the grave through the cemetery superintendent's office. He'd informed them that a man and young woman had been looking for the exact same plot just yesterday.

Just yesterday. They were closing in.

They'd also visited the Community Medical Center where Hope Jamison had been born. Their badges and more than a touch of bullying had gotten them access to the birth records. A baby girl McKenzie was listed. Mulder had, indeed, been named as father on the birth certificate.

Scully didn't want to say anything. The people they moved against were capable of anything, but the paper of the form, the pattern of it, the slight yellowing edges... all supported the theory that the birth certificate had been made in 1979, before Mulder was even in the FBI. Long before the X-Files. It was looking more and more like this was real. If it was, than who was pulling the strings? Who had led Mulder into this, pointed him in the direction of the child he'd never known?

The cold granite before them was dark from the morning's rain. The rain had managed to keep fresh the bouquet of spring flowers laying at the base of the marker. The darkened stone did not hide the primitively scratched in addition to the marker's legend.

Mulder crouched down before the stone, reaching out he traced his fingers over the roughly carved letters. "and Mother". Simple and to the point. She chose not to comment on the single tear she spotted sneaking from the corner of Mulder's eye. She felt an intruder.

She loved him, and there was nothing she could do for him here. Nothing but remain, to be there. He was hurting and it twisted her heart. This was a part of his life she had not been a part of. It was something uniquely his.

Something she couldn't really share, only support him through.

"Where to now? Her parents?" Mulder asked. His voice just a little ragged.

He stood and faced her. The mask was back. She didn't like it when it was turned on her. Once it didn't bother her. Now it did.

"I don't think that's a good idea for you, Mulder. I don't want to bail you out on assault charges. Besides, if you want the truth, I think she'll have gone looking for you."

He looked at her strangely, his expression unreadable. "Why?"

"Because you were named on her birth certificate. Because I don't think she really has anywhere else to go. I think we should go home, Mulder.

Those two have proven themselves resourceful and determined so far. I think they'll find you."

Cross noticed the second car immediately. He wasn't the only one tailing Kline. He made immediate moves to remain unseen.

Kline dropped the woman off at the FBI building. She'd reached over and ruffled his hair as she got out. Just freaking charming.

Kline pulled back out into traffic just ahead of Cross. The other car was behind them. It was a regular parade.

The occupants of the other car were a man and a woman. Now who else would be interested in Kline, and would he have to eliminate the problem?

Chapter 12 - The Seeds From Which Hope Is Born

Eddie was lost in thought. Hellen's information had set to rest some of his fears and raised new ones. This Mulder character had some freaky beliefs.

That didn't really bother Eddie that much. One of the best cops he's worked with was convinced Elvis was alive and well and living in Tacoma, Washington. To be honest Eddie wasn't sure where he stood, himself, on the whole little green man issue. He tended to take everything with a grain of salt while keeping in mind that ANYTHING was possible.

So 'Spooky' Mulder's penchant for the strange didn't worry him. What did worry him was things left unsaid. People avoided Mulder and his partner for fear of some of the crap they drug in rubbing off. What kind of crap was that? The kind that had an FBI Assistant Director take immediate charge of them? Not good. Was it the kind of crap that got doctors killed because they'd adopted the wrong kid?

Could it be the kind of crap that puts said kid in the line of fire?

He was so lost in his inner thoughts, and the downtown was so crowded, he never noticed his tails.

Cross watched Kline pull into the parking lot of a Red Roof Inn. Bingo!

He pulled into the parking lot of the mini-mall across the street and fished out his binoculars. He couldn't move until he was sure the girl was there as well. He felt time pressing in on him. He'd have to act soon.

He also noticed the other car drive on by. It didn't stop. Now who the hell was it? They were shoddy in the surveillance department, that was for sure.

He was just as glad. He didn't want to have to go through the bother of wasting them. The more bodies left behind the sloppier the job. The sloppier the job the less happy his employers were.

Cross held the binoculars up and watched Kline enter a second floor room.

Damn. Curtains were drawn, and he wasn't able to see inside. The girl was the key. He just had to wait and be sure of her location.

Personally he was going to enjoy his job a lot more now that he didn't have that damn stupid 'don't hurt the kid' order over his head. He was looking forward to the upcoming conversation. He hoped she was a tough nut to crack. Even though it would cause some delays, the thought of breaking the little bitch was a tantalizing one. She was too smart and full of herself.

Probably never had to struggle a day in her life. Spoiled rich kid.

And she was pretty. He'd seen her picture. He was going to really enjoy this. Because once he had the briefcase and files he had to get rid of the witnesses. Especially the girl. The best way to do that was to disguise her death as another crime. He'd get to have fun. Enjoy himself a little. He wondered if she was a virgin...

"Should I pull in?" Marty asked as they approached the parking lot their query had entered.

"No, we know where he is now. I don't think he saw us. It's best not to be too conspicuous. Let's head back." Jackie started chewing on her bottom lip. Something was up. Her 'spidy sense' was tingling. As soon as Mulder and Scully got back she was gonna have to tell them what she'd overheard.

Eddie walked into the room and closed the door before leaning against the wall and enjoying the floor show.

Hope was wearing a pair of jeans she must have used a shoehorn to get into and a plain red t-shirt. Her hair was loose and swayed gracefully with her movements. Movements which at this time was a dance. She was wearing a pair of earphones and had a cd player clipped to her hip. He didn't know what she was listening to, but her movements were slow and weaving, almost sensual. But above all, they were familiar and precise.

He'd originally thought she'd had the body of a dancer. Now he knew he was right.

She did a spin and spotted him before flashing a blushing smile.

"Anything good?" he asked as she slipped off the headphones.

"Shaharazade. It's no Aerosmith, but I didn't feel in the mood for the bump and grind, and this little room doesn't have the space for a full out Aerosmith dance fest." She shuddered and hugged herself. "Can I open the drapes now? I can see the sun coming through them and all, but I really could use a glance at the outside.

"What's wrong kiddo? Claustrophobic?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Please don't try to argue to my rational side. I'm holding up. But small spaces drive me out of my mind, and this hotel room has been shrinking the entire time you were gone."

"Go ahead, open them. Then I have to tell you what I found out today."

Eddie stripped off his suit coat and sprawled on the bed. "And I'm not sure what to make of it myself."

Hope felt the world open up as she yanked back the curtains. She was able to see the sky, the street, the city. She wasn't closed in anymore.

Cross grinned. This was too good to be true. The girl just opened the curtains. She was there. Now he just had to watch and wait till dark. Less conspicuous under cover of the dark.

Mulder dropped Scully's bags in her bedroom. He was tired. Not just physically. He didn't want to go back to his dark apartment alone. Not yet anyway.

"Are you gonna call your mom?" he asked as he made his way into the kitchen where she had started tea brewing. She'd informed him on the flight home that she was giving up coffee. The cup of his she'd had the day before was her last, until the baby was born.

Baby. It was still so damn hard to reconcile. She was carrying his baby. It made him feel helpless and giddy all at once. It tied his stomach in knots and on the most basic, primitive level, inflated his ego a bit. No shooting blanks here. Despite their precautions his swimmers were in top order.

God, how caveman. If he'd actually voiced those thoughts, Scully would most likely take out her gun and shoot him in an area that would assure there would be no second mistake.

Or should he make that third? God, the thought of Hope Jamison made his head hurt. Maybe he should go get himself fixed on his own. He could just hear Scully's voice in his head saying 'snip, snip, Mulder.' The thought made the parts in question try to run and hide. He winced.

"Nope. Mulder, you don't just call your mother to tell her this kind of news. We both have to go see her. This weekend. I don't know if she's going to be thrilled that she's finally getting the son-in-law AND the grandchild she was hoping for, or angry that we got things backwards."

Scully poured the tea into two cups. Herbal. No caffeine.

"I don't know. I was kinda planning on calling mine."

The look he got was enough to immediately change his mind. OK, he could tell her in person. Should he slip in... 'By the way mom, you might already have a granddaughter. She's seventeen.' Not unless he wanted to induce another stroke.

Scully's phone rang and she moved past him to pick it up.

"Scully."

"Didja tell him?" Scully heard the same question she'd heard two days ago in the same voice.

Mulder watched her smile. Her smile was something he could never get enough of and he was just a little resentful that he wasn't the cause of it this time.

"As a matter of fact, I did."

Mulder was looking at her strangely. He could only hear half this conversation.

"Did he faint?"

"No, he proposed." Scully looked down at the ring she now wore and turned it on her finger with little moves of her thumb. An easily disguised ring. He was more practical then she gave him credit for.

"He WHAT? Did you punch him or accept? Don't leave me in suspense here, Dana!"

"I said no. But I got convinced." She winked at Mulder and mouthed 'Jackie'.

He nodded.

"So... are you going to do the deed before or after junior arrives?" Scully heard the teasing tone in her friend's voice.

"Junior is arriving because we already did the deed, Jackie. I thought you might have picked that up in high school."

Mulder almost spewed his tea across her kitchen and Scully smothered a laugh.

"Har, har. You know what I'm asking."

"We haven't really discussed it. I think the sooner the better, though.

Personally I'm routing for a nice quiet ceremony BEFORE I have to report this little bombshell to Skinner."

She looked in at Mulder who was nodding solemnly.

"Oh, PLEASE let me be in on this. I wanna see Skinner's face. I wanna bring a camera. You owe me favors, Dana."

Scully chuckled. "We'll think about it."

"Talking about favors, I thought you two should know. Marty and I went to Brandy's for lunch today and overheard a man and woman talking about Mulder. The woman was a Fed. The guy was the one prying."

Scully straightened and Mulder noticed the change in posture immediately, his own body tensing in response.

"Was this nosy person's name Kline? Was he missing two fingers on his right hand?"

"His name was either Eddie or Calvin from what I could hear, and I didn't exactly get a chance to examine his limbs. I did follow him to the Red Roof Inn in Alexandria, though."

"Eddie? That's our man. Calvin? Wait... a nickname to go with Kline..."

Scully grabbed the scratch pad near her phone and wrote down the location of the Inn.

"Your man? You lookin' for this guy? Why didn't you let me in on it?"

"Because we just found out this morning. He's looking for Mulder, we're looking for him. We were bound to meet eventually."

"Is he dangerous?" Jackie sounded more interested then worried.

"I don't think so, but we aren't ruling it out yet. Thanks, Jackie. Consider yourself invited to that meeting with Skinner.We might need the witness to a potential double homicide anyway."

Scully hung up the phone and handed the paper she'd written on to Mulder.

"Jackie found Kline without even looking. What do you say we go out there and meet the elusive Ms. Jamison?"

Mulder's hand was shaking slightly as he held the note. He nodded.

"Yeah. Right away. After you eat something, though."

Scully looked at him, startled. "Mulder, stalling isn't going to help here."

"I'm not stalling. Your last meal was airline lunch, which doesn't fall into any of the known terrestrial food groups. You have to eat regularly now, Scully," he admonished, "no more skipping meals because you're too busy."

"Now who has turned into my mother? Ok, you're right. We'll stop for dinner first." Scully conceded, however she still felt like this was an uncharacteristic stalling tactic. She had the distinct impression that Mulder was afraid of this girl, of all she might mean.

Chapter 13 - What Is Love Without The Pain?

He had only recently pulled into the parking lot. Other business had kept him away til now. Stupid shit. It was almost as if they were jerking his chain again. Trying to remind him who was in charge. He didn't think they even realized who was in charge anymore.

He noticed the car leave the lot he was sharing to cross the street and park in front of the hotel. Dusk had fallen, and the dim light hid much. It didn't completely hide the recognizable figure of Cross climbing the stairs to the second floor balcony. What the HELL was he up to now?

Eddie tucked the lid on the last of the pizza they'd had delivered. He was worried. Hope was getting antsy.

After telling her what he'd learned about Agent Fox "Spooky" Mulder, she had just looked at him, completely serious, and said, "Eddie, then he's just the one who needs to see those files. He'd know what to do. My dad said the DNA documented there was not of any known earthly origin."

"You buying into this ET stuff?" He was surprised. The kid so far had seemed to have her head screwed on right.

"Dad always said to think with your mind, but always keep alive your sense of wonder. Did Shakespeare say there are more things..."

"Ok, ok. I get the point. So you think this is all some conspiracy linked to little green men? That's stretching your sense of wonder quite a bit."

"Eddie, my dad was a very sensible man. If he said those files document something not of this earth, then they document something not of this earth."

"So what DID you do with the briefcase?" he asked.

"Hid it someplace safe," was her answer.

Now she was in the bathroom.

He heard the soft rap at the door and frowned.

"What is it?"

"Pizza" came the muffled response.

Eddie sighed, the damn pizza places in DC were as screwed up as the ones in Cleveland.

He opened the door a bit. "Look buddy we already..." The words cut off when he saw the silencer-equipped gun leveled at him. He looked up into the smiling face of a tall, muscular man sporting a dark crew cut. He automatically started to reach for the gun tucked into his belt with one hand as he shoved the door closed with the other.

The man's hand came out to block the door as Eddie felt the punch in his gut. Followed by wracking agony. In shock he looked down. Blood spread in a dark blossom over his middle as he fell back.

No. His mind raged in denial even as dark spots swam before his eyes. No.

He had to protect Hope. He wasn't going to die like this.

His killer stepped over him and headed for the back of the room.

The bathroom door swung open. "Eddie what's..."

Hope saw the man and her eyes darted to Eddie's leg, all she could see of him lying on the floor on the other side of the bed.

She backed into the bathroom and slammed the door, setting the lock.

She frantically searched for a weapon. Any weapon.

The lock of the door exploded silently, accompanied only with splintering wood.

Hope grabbed the only weapon on hand.

As the door swung open she drove the wooden end of the plunger at the groin of her attacker. He crumpled over as her arm felt the jarring impact.

Pulling the plunger free she smashed it down over the back of his neck and sprinted for the door.

Something caught her ankle like a vice and she screamed as she fell.

The gunman had her leg and was pulling her in.

She kicked at him.

"Where's the file, bitch?" His voice was gravely.

She raised the plunger handle again only to have it intercepted by his arm.

The wall next to the man exploded loudly. Hope looked back to see Eddie, weaving on his feet, a mass of wet redness covering his middle. His gun held unsteady in his left hand.

She screamed again as she saw a second burst of red appear in Eddie's chest. He fell back against the wall. Sliding down it and leaving a ghastly smear of blood in his wake.

Pain exploded in the back of Hope's head, and the world went mercifully black.

He pulled out at the sight of the door being pushed in. That damned fool!

The traffic of the highway was against him. He couldn't find a break. He saw Cross emerge from the Inn, Hope slung limply over his shoulder. It was too dim to make out much more.

He didn't need more. How DARE he touch her? He made a silent vow, then and there. Devon Cross was a dead man!

Where the HELL was all he cars coming from?

Cross was stuffing Hope into the trunk of his car. The fucking bastard! She was afraid of small spaces. He'd take every fucking inch of skin off that shithead before he killed him.

Cross got into the driver's seat and closed the door as another car pulled into the Inn's parking lot. A Wrangler.

Mulder and Scully got out, completely unaware of the man even now driving away with his precious cargo.

Cursing the whim of fate he found an opening at last by almost ramming an oncoming car and tearing off after Cross.

"Mulder, the door is open." Scully had her gun out already and he had his in hand without conscious thought.

They took positions and with a nod swung into the room, sweeping it. Him high, her low.

The room had been completely trashed. It was empty except for the body.

Mulder fought down the surge of panic. No, not body. A feeble breath rattled from the man slumped into a sitting position against the wall. Two shots by the look of it, either one could prove fatal.

Scully spotted the man's limp right hand. "It's Kline." She was already on her knees ripping open his shirt. "Call an ambulance, Mulder. He's still alive. Barely."

Kline's eyes flickered open. "Mulder?" His voice was a weak whisper.

Mulder finished relaying the situation to the 911 dispatch operator and went to one knee beside the wounded man. Kline's bloody hand grasped at Mulder's trenchcoat lapel with surprising strength.

"Hope. He took Hope. Find him... stop him..."

"Where? Where did he take Hope?" Mulder felt the panic renew itself and fought it down only by transforming it into rage.

"Don't know. Tall... muscular... dark hair... crew cut... Werther ppk with silencer... rectangle face..." Scully was applying pressure to the man's chest.

He didn't seem to feel her. Instead he blacked out again.

"Scully, stay with him. You have to wait for the ambulance. If he manages to tell you any more then call me."

"Where are you going?" The look she gave him was alternately angry and understanding.

"Car just pulled out of here. He couldn't have been gone long from Kline's condition. I'm going to find that car. I have to do SOMETHING."

She nodded. She couldn't take the pressure off of Kline's chest wound. She looked at the spot she held bare handed, fascinated for a moment by the sight of the blood seeping over her engagement ring. She shivered at the feeling of superstitious dread, unfounded and ridiculous, that surged through her.

Mulder started toward the door. "Mulder, be careful."

He looked at her. His eyes telling her everything. "I will."

Then he was gone.

He managed to keep the car in sight, but once again traffic was conspiring against him. He weaved through the other cars at a suicidal pace. Where were all these people coming from? Where the hell were they all going at this hour. He was ready to suspect a conspiracy.

He saw the car pull onto an off ramp up ahead just as he hit the tail end of a traffic jam. Cursing he tried to pull onto the shoulder and ride it to the ramp, but some other fucking idiot in a too-wide Caddy had tried that.

He was stuck. He itched to take down every license plate around him and send people to eliminate the idiots in the world. Improve the human race.

But he didn't have time for such idle thoughts. Cross was getting away.

What was in the direction he was heading? Then it hit him. The warehouse.

It was a site often used for unpleasant interrogations and potentialities due to its relative isolation.

If he couldn't get to Hope he knew someone who had to. He'd kill Cross later.

He slapped open his glovebox and extracted a scrambler and a voice modulator then dialed his cell phone.

"Mulder. Scully, how's he doing?"

Mulder kept to the highway. Traffic was slowing down though.

"Get off the highway. There is a roadblock. He's going to the abandoned Kelworks Factory." The voice was electronically disguised.

"What? Who are you? What the hell is going on?" Mulder swerved to avoid hitting some early eighties-style Pontiac most likely being driven by someone in their early eighties.

"None of that is important. What is important is: can you live with yourself if she dies because you didn't listen to me?" The line went dead.

Mulder thumbed a number he knew by heart. No the question was could he live with himself if she died because he listened to an anonymous voice on the phone.

"Danny? I need a trace on the last phone to dial into this number. Yeah, I need it right away." He pulled off the nearest ramp and headed for the Kelworks Factory. Using back roads was going to take longer though.

"What do you mean piggybacked? Ok, print it all out. I want a hard copy to look over later. Thanks, I owe you." He snapped his phone shut angrily.

Hope was first aware of the throbbing of her head. She could feel her whole skull expand and contract with her heartbeat. It hurt. It hurt bad.

Unfortunately the next awareness was that she was in the dark. A darkness that smelled of gasoline and oil. She tried to move her hands but they were secured behind her back. She fought the binding, discovering herself too securely held by what could only be duct tape. Was there a special section in the hardware store that had weekend sales on duct tape for wackos?

She felt the world around her vibrating. The sounds of a car. She panicked and tried to sit up, only to bang her already sore head against the hood of the trunk. She wasn't gagged. She was in a tight closed place, a car trunk.

She struggled to breathe. Air, could air get in? Didn't trapped air stay in trunks of cars when the vehicle was submerged in water? Didn't that mean they were air tight?

Oh God, she was going to die in a small, dark hole. She didn't have the strength to scream, only to whimper. Each heartbeat the space in the trunk got smaller. Her breath grew more rapid and shallow. She couldn't think, couldn't plan, she was aware of nothing but the stifling darkness, the smothering tightness. She was in Hell again, and this time there was no rescue worker to save her.

She tried valiantly to fend off the attack of raw fear, of primal panic that clawed its way from the depths of her soul. It was a losing battle. She curled into herself as much as she could and began to keen. A lost sound. A mourning sound that ate up the little gasps of struggling breath she'd managed to take.

Something cool touched her back. Stroked over her cheek, her forehead.

She was only partly aware of it. Some small part of her mind not completely occupied by the panic did register it though, and took in the soft scent of lilacs that filled the trunk, chasing away the oil and gas smell.

Wether she could actually hear a tuneless humming or just the car's engine combining with her own soft keening she would never know. But the scent, the touch, brought with it some comfort. Something warm and familiar and peaceful. She felt... at home.

As the panic began to slowly recede, she felt the car stop. Heard crunching footsteps. The hood of the trunk was suddenly flung open and a bright light shone into her face.

"You and me are gonna have a little fun, baby doll." She felt something jab into her leg, through her jeans and she cried out as an acidic burn flowed through her. He'd injected her with something. What?

She didn't have time to question as she was roughly yanked out of the trunk and into the blessedly open night. She screamed then, praying someone, anyone could hear her.

"Shut up. If you scream yourself hoarse you can't answer my questions."

The man shook her. "You'll have plenty of time to scream, later."

Chapter 14 - And What Is Light Without The Dark?

Scully moved to allow the EMT's to work around her. "I'm a medical doctor." It was all they needed to hear.

"Two gunshots. One to the chest cavity, possible damage to the heart, but no observable breathing problems associated with a punctured lung. One perforation of the abdomen. Definite perforation of the large intestine and possibly to the kidney. Keep pressure on this chest wound and take immediate precautions against sepsis. I want..."

She shot off orders rapidly as the EMT's fitted Kline with a mask and attached an electrocardiograph. They moved him to a gurney and wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance as they worked frantically to keep him alive long enough to reach the hospital.

Hope was dragged inside the dark, dank-looking warehouse, through a maze of twisted pipes and warped machinery oddly reminiscent of an Aliens movie.

She was more alarmed at what she was feeling than at the prospect of dying.

She was warm, feverish, and everything around her had started to move in slow motion. At the same time she was extremely aware. She could smell the rust and mildew, the rot and decay of this place. Every detail of the machinery observable only by moonlight filtering through broken windows was imprinted on her brain.

The pain of the grip on her arm as the nameless man dragged her after him, the realization that her feet weren't completely in synch with what she was ordering them to do.

She saw the room completely as she was pulled into it. Her captor palmed a light switch and it was lit by three bright, bare, light bulbs dangling from the ceiling.

A plain wooden chair sat in the center of the room. She was shoved roughly into the seat and the man taped her feet to the legs. She tried to kick at him, but she. like the world, was moving so slowly. She regretted never trying recreational pharmaceuticals in high school now, only because it might have given her some point of reference. Someplace to draw from.

Some hint at what the drug in her system might do next.

"What did you..." The question slipped out for no other reason then because she wanted to know.

"Inject you with? An interesting little chemical cocktail, highly classified.

Its main base is sodium pentothal, although it tends to work a little better then its base. You know, the whole being greater then the sum of its parts."

The man looked pleased with himself.

"Fuck you." Her head felt so heavy. She let it drop.

"How nice of you to offer. I intend to. But first a little Q&A time. Where were you taking the files?"

"What files?" She forced her head to raise up, to meet the bastard's eyes.

He was smiling. "Excellent. You intend to fight me. I'll win in the end, but it will make the game that much sweeter. The files your father stole from Delmark, my dear. The ones you have no real use for."

"Oh... those files." She chuckled a bit. "Didn't know where to take them."

Where had that come from? She hadn't intended to tell him that.

"You had to have some idea. After all you came all the way to DC from Cleveland. Not exactly aimless wandering now is it?" He had pulled out a knife. A Bowie, part of her mind registered.

"Lookin' for my father," she mumbled. She didn't want to say that. She hated that she said that. She felt defeated.

"Your father is dead, little girl. I put the bullet in his brain myself. You're holding out better then I thought." The knife slashed and Hope gasped, flinching.

The knife had opened her bright red t-shirt from neck to jeans. He reached forward to flick the tip of the blade against the place where her bra's front hook was secured to the fabric. A few more movements of the knife against shirt seams and bra straps and she was naked from the waist up.

Her shirt and bra just useless scraps on the floor.

She felt humiliated. No one had ever seen her like this before. She felt a tear slide down her cheek.

She cried out as the knife scraped over her cheek, catching the tear but not drawing blood.

"Why were you going to DC?" he asked again. He was in front of her, his breath foul in her face. He openly leered at her nakedness and she felt the fear return to the pit of her stomach.

"Was a... adopted." She stuttered. She was visibly shaking now, and hated the loss of control. She didn't want him to see her fear.

"Adopted? I see. So you were in DC looking for your father... your... real father." The knife blade danced and scraped over her breasts and belly, blood seeped up in a few shallow cuts. She didn't know if he'd meant to cut her yet. She looked down in fascination at the sight of her own blood.

The madman with the knife ran a fingertip over her ribs, tracing one of the fine lines of blood. He raised the bloody finger to his lips and licked the salty redness from the tip.

"So who is your real father?"

Hope ground her teeth together. She would not speak. She refused to. The knife flashed again and a cry escaped her lips as a deep slash appeared on her left breast, just above the nipple.

"Talk to me darlin' or I'll cut your tits off without ever thinking about it."

"M...Mulder. Fox William Mulder." She stuttered out. The pain was intense. She didn't want to die yet. Not like this. Not cut apart by some animal.

"So where did you hide the files?"

She clamped her lips shut again. Prepared for the next slash of the knife.

She felt the knife scrape against the tight denim of her jeans, over the crotch.

"We both know I'm gonna kill you anyway. And we both know I'm gonna fuck your little brains out. You get to decided right here and now on weather that comes before or after, and if you die quick and clean or slow and painful. Now where are the files?"

She swallowed hard, trying not to vomit. What had Karen said? Take yourself out of your body. Don't let the bastard touch you, only your body.

Karen. Tough little hard-as-nails Karen, her college roommate. She'd told Hope tales of horror once. Because Hope had asked. And in listening, Hope had learned.

The next slash didn't come as she heard the squeal of tires and blown up gravel outside. Someone was here!

Unfortunately, wacko knew it too. "Looks like we move this party." He cut her feet free and proceeded to drag her up a flight of stairs.

Mulder saw the other car immediately. It matched the one that had pulled away from the Inn as they'd arrived. His heart pounded fiercely in his chest.

He had his gun out and ready. He approached the car cautiously. No one inside. His eyes flickered to the trunk. He was reaching for it when he heard the scream. It was a shrill, woman's scream coming from inside the warehouse.

He looked up and saw a pale figure move past the door. A flicker out of the corner of his eye, lasting no more then a fraction of a second.

He ran to the building at a crouch. He was breathing heavily when he swung inside the door, ready for the first gunshot. None came.

Another flicker up ahead. A hint of something pale in the darkness.

"Freeze, Federal Officer," he called at the retreating form.

It didn't stop, it just faded into the blackness.

Running at a crouch, moving from one outcrop of pipe or machinery to another, he gave chase. As he followed he could swear he smelled flowers.

The aisle he'd been following ended at a single door. It was closed.

He kicked it open with everything he had in him. and entered at a roll, making a small, moving target. Nothing. The room was empty. However, it was lit. Bare light bulbs swung from the ceiling. A wooden chair was overturned in the center of the room. He took in the duct tape still attached to the legs, crudely slashed. beside the chair was a pile of cloth.

He toed at the material and felt his heart freeze when he discovered it had once been a shirt and bra. A single drop of blood lay in the dust by the chair.

Movement again. There was a staircase against one wall, at the top of it was a door. Someone had just gone through the door.

He raced up the stairs, praying to a deity he wasn't sure even existed that he wasn't too late.

Flinging open that door he saw them ahead. The door led to a catwalk, it was three stories above the shadowed warehouse floor below. In the middle of the catwalk was a tall body-builder type with a dark crew cut.

His arm was clinched around the neck of a young woman. She was naked from the waist up, and he was pretty sure he saw something wet gleaming on her chest.

The man held the girl before him, between himself and Mulder, but his gun was aimed right at Mulder's head. It was a draw, as Mulder had a similar bead on him. His aim was unwavering while the rest of his body shook with fury.

Mulder's eyes flickered to the girl again. Only to meet the terrified gaze of his own eyes looking back at him.

Hope. This was Hope. He'd found her at last. And this bastard was NOT going to walk away with her.

Chapter 15 - To Savor The Sun There Must Be Rain

Hope was afraid. She was very afraid. But it was a different fear than the full grown panic attack of closed in places.

No, now her fear was of the man behind her, holding her in a death grip, and for the man before her. Each step her Captor retreated, dragging her along, The man before them advanced. A slow dance. A waltz of death.

Someone was going to die here.

The moonlight came through six broken skylights above them. The moon was close to full, she realized in some detached part of her brain. One shaft of light fully illuminated the man before them, bathing them in silvery light.

The sight closed off her throat more then her captor's arm did.

This was the grown up version of the boy whose image was captured forever in a handful of Polaroids in her purse. He was no longer all knees and elbows, he didn't look like a geek. He looked like the wrath of God himself.

This was her father.

His eyes darted from her captor to her. Their gazes met and locked. He knew. She didn't know how, or why, but he knew who she was. He knew how they were connected. She was as certain of this as she was of her own name.

His whole body was tense with rage. He shook with it. The moonlight revealed a muscle twitching along his jaw. She knew that meant he was on the verge of losing it. She knew because she had the same muscle twitch when her temper was about to go through the roof. But for all this, his gun never wavered. It didn't shake, but held a steady course. Her gaze broke from his and she found herself looking down the barrel of that gun. He had seemed so far away on the catwalk, but the small circle of darkness seemed way too close.

"Federal Officer. Drop the gun and let the girl go." His voice was tight, but authoritative. A bit raspier then she'd imagined.

"I don't think so. She too much fun to play with. You aren't about to shoot her. And she's such a lovely insurance policy." The voice in her ear made her want to vomit again. She fought it.

Her captor was using her as a shield. Agent Mulder wouldn't shoot for fear of hitting her. However HE was right out in the open. His brains must be scrambled!

Her captor pulled her further back, they were now past the wall to their right and out in the open. To either side was nothing. There was only the catwalk, and down.

She felt her captor's gun arm tighten and she knew, knew in her heart he was going to fire.

If her arms were free she'd try to push his gun arm up, making the shot go wild. Unable to do that, Hope provided the only distraction she could and prayed Agent Mulder would use it.

She allowed herself to go completely limp, letting the man choke her as her body's weight dragged at his arm, his side, making him lose a fraction of balance.

The sudden shift did waver his attention for a second.

She heard a sharp crack and felt the man behind her twitch. Hot wetness poured down her back. His grip on her tightened as he toppled against the waist heigh railing of the catwalk. She screamed as he began to fall. She braced her legs and fought back, but he was so heavy,and he wouldn't let go. She looked down into the darkness below.

Mulder realized he had no cover. He couldn't let his gaze falter to look for any, either. Not after one look into Hope's terrified eyes. If he had to kill the bastard he would, but he wasn't going to allow him to leave with Hope.

They had backed beyond the wall that separated the room downstairs from this part of the warehouse.

Hope met his eyes again, seeming to search for something before she seemed to faint, going limp in the arm of her kidnapper.

No sooner had the man's attention wavered for a fraction to the girl he held then half the man's head disappeared in a spray of blood, and explosion of bone.

Mulder didn't have time to look for the shooter. To his horror the dead man retained his grip on Hope and was toppling over the railing.

He heard her screaming as he ran the four steps to her. He just managed to grab her arm, pulling her and the corpse behind her back to the security of the catwalk.

He spun quickly to scan for the shooter, but that end of the warehouse was lost completely in shadow. Nothing, he could see nothing. Which meant the shooter could still be there, and he might have been aiming for Hope.

Mulder checked the girl again. He went to one knee beside her.

"Get him OFF me." She managed through clenched teeth. She looked very pale in the faint light. Her eyes were large and glazed.

Mulder pried the stiff arm away from her and she squirmed away, unable to get up to balance with her hands taped behind her.

He pulled her to her feet and half ran with her to the cover of the wall. She stopped there, leaning against the concrete wall, her breath coming in little pants.

She slid down the wall. She was shaking. In shock, she was in shock.

He pulled out his pocket knife and flipped it open. She saw the flash of blade and shrank back with a whimper.

"It's alright. I won't let them hurt you again." He was surprised at the conviction in his own voice. He reached behind her and urged her to turn so he could cut her hands free.

That done he slipped off his trenchcoat and draped it around her nakedness.

Hope's eyes were darting everywhere.

"He... he stuck me with somethin'... said it had a pentothal base... I feel funny. Wide awake but tired..."

Mulder pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911 for the second time that night.

"I need an ambulance at the Kelworks warehouse in Alexandria. Yeah, the old industrial road. We have a white female, seventeen, she's been forcibly injected with an unknown combination of drugs. Inform the police there is also a body here. No, I'm with the FBI." He gave his badge number, growing more irritated with each word. "Just send the damn ambulance."

"It's on its way sir. We received another call two minutes before yours. Just hang on, their ETA is three minutes."

Mulder didn't stop to wonder at that bit of information. Hope was fading out.

He bent to pick her up. She wasn't very heavy. He carried her down into the well lit room.

Laying her on the floor, he examined her. Her hair and back were coated with her assailant's blood, now soaking into his coat.

"How badly are you cut?" he asked, trying to keep her focused.

"Not too bad... except my... my chest. It... burns. Hurts." She tried to sit up and failed.

"I have to take a look, I don't want you to bleed to death." Mulder moved to open the coat but she grabbed his wrist.

"No. It'll be ok." Her hand moved to touch his cheek. "I feel cold."

"You're in shock," he told her as he turned to pull the chair closer. He propped her feet on it.

"Fox Mulder. All the ways... I imagined... meeting you. This... wasn't among... them."

"You know who I am?" He was surprised. Scully was convinced she'd come looking for him, but to know him on sight?

"Mother left... pictures." Hope's eyes fluttered closed.

"Stay with me, Hope. Hang in there." He clasped her hand. He wasn't going to lose her now.

"You know what?" Her eyes flicked open and her mouth turned up in a lovely smile. "I'm glad I got... mom's nose."

Her eyes drifted closed again as he heard the far off cry of the ambulance and police sirens.

Alexandria Hospital

4203 Seminary Road

Alexandria, VA

Scully saw them arrive.

The first thing she noticed was the gurney. Two EMT's wheeled it past her, crashing through the ER doors to her left. She had only caught a glimpse.

A very pale, wraithlike girl, her long, dark hair spread out against the pillow except where the oxygen mask's elastic pinned it to her head. The mask hid her features completely. Her eyes were closed and she'd been hooked up to an IV. A gray blanket was thrown over her body, but Scully saw evidence of a lot of blood.

She hadn't really registered the girl on the passing gurney as important until she saw Mulder, following the wheeled bed and being denied access to the ER the doors led to.

"Look, I'm a Federal Agent, that girl is a federal witness, her life is in danger and I'm not letting her out of my sight." He was shoving his badge into the orderly's face even as he pushed him aside.

Scully gripped her burden tightly as she dug out her badge and followed, shoving the ID under the orderly's nose she stated simply, "I'm with him."

Mulder hadn't even noticed her. He'd been too intent on following the gurney. She found him, however, standing in a corner while a doctor and two nurses set up another IV and started to draw blood from their unconscious patient.

"Mulder?" She tentatively put her hand on his shoulder and noticed his trench coat was gone and his dress shirt was covered with blood.

"Ohmygod..."

"I was almost too late, Scully." The blank expression on his face and the deadness of his voice alarmed her. "But at least one thing came of this...

she has red blood. Not green."

He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as if unable to watch the procedures before him.

"What happened?" She pulled a plastic chair over and made him sit down.

"He injected her with something. I don't know what. It looks like... he was TORTURING her, Scully. She had all these little cuts, one pretty bad.

Jesus." He rubbed a hand down his face. "Musta' heard me coming. He was trying to make a run for it with her. Used her as a shield. There was someone else there. I don't know who, or why, but the guy's head just exploded. Almost took her over the edge with him."

"How much of that blood is hers?" She heard herself asking.

"Not that much. Enough though, enough. She was so scared, Scully. She was scared but... she trusted me. She knew who I was. She'd been through Hell and she trusted me."

"Of course she did, Mulder." She couldn't add 'you're her father', not yet.

They had to be absolutely sure first.

"Agents?" They looked up at the ER doctor as he spoke.

"We've gotten the preliminary blood screen back as we didn't know what she'd been injected with." He held a clipboard and scanned it. "Nothing in itself lethal, I'm glad to report. We are concerned about the trace amount of cocaine we are fairly certain was part of the solution. She was suffering from shock and some blood loss. We're going to have to ask you to wait outside while we have a plastic surgeon come in and suture the worst of her wounds. And we're going to need some information off of you."

They moved with the doctor into the hall as a curtain was pulled around the gurney.

"She'll be staying here until we are certain the chemicals are out of her system. I'm also going to suggest counseling. She will most likely need help dealing with this." The doctor handed Mulder a second clip board. "Just fill this out and we'll set up a room for her.

Mulder looked blankly at the paper. The standard Hospital admittance form. He felt a humorless laugh escape him.

"I don't know any of this." His eyes darted over the words. "Is she allergic to anything? Does she have insurance? Medical History... I know absolutely nothing."

Scully saw what was happening and took charge. First she took the clipboard from him and started to wield the pencil.

"Yes, you do. Name: Hope Maria Jamison. Birthdate: February 10th, 1979.

Next of kin..." she looked up to meet his eyes briefly, for once not sure what she saw there, "Fox William Mulder." Scully continued to fill out more lines. "Our coverage has a family plan, Mulder. You better get used to that. Once we figure out this whole mess we'll get the paperwork done.

But for now it will do."

"As soon as she's well enough... I want a paternity test done. I have to be SURE, Scully."

She nodded. "I know. So do I. I'll arrange it. But until then I'm going to believe my eyes. I think you already have. You heard the doctor, Mulder.

She's going to be all right."

"Physically." He added, only then noticing what Scully had tucked under her arm.

"What is that?"

Scully's mouth turned up into a sad smile. "This is a teddy bear. I'm assuming this is who Mr. Pookie is. Kline wasn't really with it, he kept fading in and out. He did managed to say that Hope would need her Mr.

Pookie. But after that he also said that Elvis has left the building. You'll like him, Mulder."

"He's alive?" His eyebrows shot up.

"For now." her face became guarded again. "He's still in surgery. It'll be a few more hours. I was able to learn the bullet clipped his heart. I also found a business card on him. Hard to make out covered in blood but it was one of ours. Or rather an FBI one. I called the agent named. Hellen Matthews.

She's upstairs in the surgery waiting room."

Mulder nodded and took the ragged, balding, one eyed stuffed bear. It looked like it, too, had been through heart surgery once in its life. It was worn and pathetic, and obviously much loved. "Thanks, Scully. When she wakes up I'm sure Hope will be happy to have it with her."

Chapter 16 - 'ere We Come Home, Must Embark

Scully looked through the window of the ICU at the two figures. One prone, the other sitting silently grasping the prone figure's hand.

Eddie Kline had been in surgery for five hours. It was still touch and go but the doctors were optimistic. Hellen Matthews was in with him now. She was allowed five minutes every hour. She'd gotten that only by claiming to be his fiance'.

Scully didn't know Hellen all that well. She'd seen her around, but it was Mulder the other woman had worked with on occasion way back when.

Scully hoped Eddie recovered. Because it looked like there was someone waiting for him.

She sighed and started yet another leisurely stroll through the hospital hallways.

Mulder had wanted to be alone with Hope. He hadn't said it in words, but she sensed that need in him. He needed that much at least, so she had told him she was going for a walk to check in on Kline after she woke up. Well after letting Mulder know she'd woken up. It was early morning and she'd spent five hours last night curled up on the empty bed in Hope's room.

She'd been so tired she couldn't fight it. She had awakened sick to her stomach yet again. She lay perfectly still and watched Mulder as he watched Hope. The girl had still not revived. The blood work they took every two hours had shown the drug was leaving her system, though.

Now, her duty done with Kline, she was free to wander.

She didn't know if it was coincidence or some magnetic attraction that brought her before a second window. This one looked in on rows of small bassinets. Most were empty but there were five infants sleeping in pink and blue colored receiving blankets. They were all so tiny. So fragile. So completely helpless. Her hand smoothed down her front. Nothing to show yet, no hint that in seven months one of those little sparks of life would be hers. Hers and Mulders.

She was scared. Oh, she knew full well she wanted this child. She'd do all she could to give it its best chance... but so many things could go wrong.

She hadn't told Mulder she'd already scheduled an amniocentesis in two more months, or her insistence on bi-weekly ultrasounds. Next week she'd be seeing a trustworthy high risk pregnancy specialist whose name Megan had given her.

He didn't need to know that yet. Not when he had Hope to worry about.

And right now she feared that if she shared her fears with him, their weight added to his other burdens, might crush him.

They still had no answers on what had been done to her during those three missing months, or if it could effect her baby. No guarantee that any of the biological or toxilogical hazards they had faced might not have some hithertofore unknown effect of either of their reproductive systems.

She felt alone in these fears. Her inability to share them right now left her feeling more isolated than she had in almost a year.

And damnit, she was more than a little angry and jealous as well. Yet, there was no one she could truly blame. No one to lash out at. It hurt. It hurt a lot. After the shock and before the fear had set in, she'd been so happy. She was going to give Mulder a child. She was going to present him with something no one else could.

She balled her fist against the glass and pressed her forehead against the coolness.

But someone had. Mulder had a daughter. A child that was only his. Well, maybe not a child anymore, but it was an oportunity stolen. It sent a pain through her heart. One that had to be carefully hidden. Hidden because it wasn't Mulder's fault that he hadn't known, and it certainly wasn't Hope's fault for being born.

And now he was alone with her. He had wanted to be alone with her.

Already she was coming between them. Scully was certain that Hope would never really drive a wedge. She knew Mulder loved her, unconditionally. It was greed, she realized. She'd held Mulder's undivided attention for nine months, longer than that. Almost five years really. But now his focus had shifted. He hadn't shut her out, but he'd invited Hope in.

It was senseless to be resentful and jealous over a teenager who right now was lying in a hospital bed after going through Hell. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Hope. It wasn't fair to Mulder. But, damnit, the whole situation wasn't fair to HER, either.

Directionless anger was unhealthy. She knew this. She needed an outlet as surely as Mulder did. It was best to focus on the men who were after Hope. Shift the anger to them. Maybe relieve some of it. Maybe.

Hopefully. Because Scully didn't want to end up hating Hope. If she did, she might end up hating herself.

Trailing her fingers over the cold, smooth glass of the nursery window one last time she turned back to seek out Hope's room.

Mulder had dozed off, but became instantly awake at the whimper from the occupant of the hospital bed before him.

Hope's eyes were moving rapidly under their lids, and her body twitched. A fine sweat had broken on her brow. Nightmare. How long was she going to have them after this? For the rest of her life? To the point where she fought the need for sleep on a regular basis just to escape the dreams?

He reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze.

Her eyes snapped open and she was looking right at him, pinning him to the chair.

"Um... hi." Completely inadequate, but all he could summon at the moment.

"Hi..." her voice was rough, "think I could get some water?"

He nodded and stuck a straw into the plastic cup already waiting by the bed, then passed it to her. She drank slowly.

"How long have I been out?"

Mulder looked at his watch. "About twelve hours. Between the drugs and the shock they told me it wasn't that unusual."

"You stayed here all that time?" She looked surprised.

He shrugged. He'd missed too much time already. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. My stomach isn't too good and... um... I think I need a pain killer." Her hand drifted up to almost touch her chest, hesitated, then dropped again. She looked down at the hospital gown she wore. She was bandaged up underneath it. "Oh great, as if they weren't small enough they go tie 'em down so I'm almost a board. Sheesh."

She looked up to see Mulder actually blushing. "What? That blush better be because I inherited my figure from YOUR side of the family. Mom looked like she was built."

"You certainly... have a way with words." He shook his head. "I'll call a nurse about that pain killer."

"Don't bother. I got it." She thumbed the call button at her side. "Yeah, my dad used to say I tend to let my mouth vent my brain." She smiled briefly but it faded, and a sadness settled over her.

"Was he a good father?" Mulder could no more stop from asking than shield himself from the pain any answer would bring.

"The best." Her lips twitched up a bit. "He was the best. Didn't put up with any of my crap, but encouraged me, ya know. He came close to spoiling me rotten at times, but he knew how to make me appreciate earning things for myself. He was... the sweetest, most honorable person I've known. And I was his world after momma died." She shook her head. "You don't have to worry about that. I've had a good life."

Mulder nodded. Not trusting his voice. His throat stung. He was jealous and thankful all at once.

"You're awake." The voice in the doorway turned both of their heads.

"Hope, this is Dana Scully... my partner." Mulder gestured to the petite woman who had just entered the room.

"Nice to meet you Ms. Scully." Hope held out her hand and Dana shook it.

"You might be glad to know that Eddie Kline is hanging in there. He's in the ICU, but the doctors are looking hopeful."

Hope bit her bottom lip and swallowed hard before nodding. "Thanks. I... I thought he was dead." Silent tears slipped down her cheeks. "I thought I'd... killed him."

Scully shook her head, already noticing similarities between the girl on the bed and Mulder. "You didn't kill him, Hope. You didn't pull the trigger.

You are just as much a victim in this as he is."

"He wouldn't have been here at all if I hadn't run to him."

"I'm glad you did." Mulder spoke up at last. "I'm glad you had somewhere to run to. I'm glad Kline was there for you."

Hope nodded silently then reached up to scratch at her hair. "I feel icky."

She looked at her hand and began to shake. A flaky brownness was under her nails. All at once it crashed into her. She began to shake. She couldn't look away from the dried blood under her nails.

"Hope?" Mulder sounded worried.

"He's on me. Oh God, he's on me, all over me. I gotta get him off. I can't keep him on me." Her words began to run together .

Scully left the room to find the nurse immediately as Mulder tried to calm Hope down. She flinched away from his touch and scampered back on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, even though he knew that position had to have hurt her. She buried her face in her knees and began to sob.

He knew what it was, and it didn't make it any easier. Post Traumatic Stress. She'd been through Hell in the last few days, the last twenty four hours especially. It had just caught up with her.

"Scully went to get a nurse. I'll make sure you get a bath and your hair washed. We'll get him off you. He's off you. He can't hurt you again."

Mulder's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. She didn't want to be touched as much as he wanted to touch her, to hold her and promise to make everything better. But he couldn't.

Two nurses arrived with Scully and both Mulder and Scully were chased from the room. A few minutes later one of the women emerged from the room and approached them. "We called her doctor and got the ok to give her a sponge bath and let her wash her hair in the sink. He doesn't want to administer a sedative until her system is completely cleared out, which according to the steady rate of her improving bloodwork will be about three more hours."

Twenty minutes later they were allowed back into the room. Hope sat up in the bed. Her hair was wet from washing and she was holding the teddy bear Scully had retrieved from the hotel room. She looked embarrassed.

"I'm sorry about that. I don't know what happened."

"It's ok. You've been through a lot lately." Mulder offered the chair to Scully and chose to lean against the wall.

She lifted the bear and wiggled it. "Whose responsible for this?"

Mulder inclined his head to Scully. Hope smiled brightly at Dana.

"Thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me." She sat it on her lap then looked at them both. "So what happens now?"

"Hopefully you'll be discharged once your blood work is cleared. Then we have to go to the office and talk to our boss. After that, we find you a safe place to stay." Mulder answered.

"Not with you?" Hope managed to keep the disappointment from her face, but not her voice.

"Not... yet. The people who are after you may have put one and one together, in which case they'll be watching my place, and Scully's.

However... I think I know just the place for you."

Scully looked up at Mulder. Hope watched in wonder as a whole conversation seemed to take place without a single spoken word. In that instant she understood something. That Dana Scully was much more than her father's work partner.

"Oh no. Mulder, you can't be serious." Scully's words broke Hopes reverie.

"What?" Hope asked.

"Why not? Who else can we trust to watch out for her? Who else has what it takes if they find Hope before we clear this up?"

Hope felt like she'd been locked out of the room. "WHAT?"

They both looked at her, as if momentarily startled to see her there. Then Mulder smiled.

"A friend of ours. She should be able to keep you safe while we try to find out what's going on."

"Oh wonderful." Hope rolled her eyes. "By the way, in case you two are the least bit interested I've got the files my dad died for."

Well, that worked. She was immediately the focus of their full attention, and it was decidedly unnerving.

"Where?" Both asking at once. Did they practice that?

"Hidden in the drop ceiling of the laundrymat of the hotel Eddie and I were at." Hope grinned. "I really doubt anyone would have looked there."

Mulder and Scully looked from her to each other then softly chuckled.

"She has a point, Mulder. I'd never have guessed it in a million years."

"So... why don't you two go GET it? I'm gonna be here for a few more hours at least. I want to try and sleep a bit more, and I doubt I can do that with you two acting like vultures."

Mulder shook his head. "No. I'm on you like glue until I hand you over to Jackie's safe keeping."

Scully was surprised. Mulder was going to wait? While the evidence he was after just sat around? She looked sidelong at Hope, and wondered if he even realized how much the girl had changed his life in a few short hours.

"Fine but can you, like, wait outside or something? I really won't be able to sleep with you standing over me and staring at me like you expect me to grow horns or gills or something." Hope scooted back down on the bed and pulled up the sheet.

"I suppose we could go get something to eat. Would you like us to bring you back something?" Scully spoke up when it looked like Mulder might object. The poor girl needed some time to adjust.

"Ick, hospital food. I guess some boxed corn flakes and milk would be harmless, but don't go for the eggs. They grow them in a petri dish." Hope curled up and closed her eyes to get her point across.

"Corn flakes it is. Come on, Mulder. She won't be going anywhere for the length of time it takes us to get breakfast. I'm not supposed to skip meals, remember."

Mulder nodded. "I CAN take a hint you know. Hope, just yell for a nurse if you need us."

The girl waved at them as they left the room.

Sleep did not come though. Hope tried thinking of nothing, tried to relax and drift. She was so tired, yet the sandman was being elusive. Fifteen minutes after Mulder and Scully had left she heard the door open again.

"I told you I can't sleep with you staring." She turned to face them and gasped.

"Hello, Hope. I'm glad to see you're recovering so well."

"You! Get out. I don't know who you are and right now I don't give a flying fuck. Just leave me the hell alone." She sat up and the sudden move made her wince as her stitches pulled.

"Such language is hardly becoming of a lady. And I'm here to offer you a deal."

"You can take you deals and shove them up your..."

"The files for a promise of non interference in the life of your future sibling." He smiled tightly.

Hope just sat there for a few seconds. "What?"

"The lovely Agent Scully is pregnant, with your brother or sister. Things can become very... unpleasant for her. Pregnancies are precarious things.

All sorts of tragedies can happen."

"You son of a bitch." Hope gripped Mr. Pookie so tichtly her knuckles had gone white.

"Possibly. But I can make guaranties. Certain parties will not in any way interfere with Agent Scully's pregnancy, nor in the life of the child once it's born, all that for the price of a few sheets of paper. Quite a good deal, really."

"I wouldn't trust you any further then I could spit at you."

His smile was actually a trifle sad. "I don't blame you. But I have never lied to you, Hope. Not to you. I don't plan on starting now. I can get you out of some troubles, but others are beyond even me."

He slipped out the door, leaving Hope feeling sick inside.

What if he WAS telling the truth? If he was, how had he found out?

His parting words left her feeling more nauseous than the rest as similar words played back in her memory. I'll get you out, Hope. I'll always get you out. Her mind now supplied the missing fragment of memory, what she had smelled under coal dust, dirt and mildew. The odor of her rescuer's cigarettes.

Chapter 17 - Of Fear And Pain Our Estate

Mulder and Scully re-entered the room quietly, but Hope was still awake.

She was sitting up, staring out the window. Her room had a view of a park.

She appeared to be watching the children on the playground.

"I thought you were gonna try and sleep."

She looked around at Mulder's voice ans saw Scully deposit a single serve box of corn flakes, pint of milk and styrofoam bowl on the tray near her bed.

"I think I'm turning into an insomniac." Hope sighed and looked back out the window, ignoring the food. "You wouldn't believe what creeps up on you when you close your eyes."

"Yeah, I would. And insomnia is NOT a recommended lifestyle." Mulder sat on the empty bed, leaving the seat for Scully.

Hope turned to face Mulder. "Ok, we've been dancing around it. What am I supposed to call you? Mr. Mulder? Agent Mulder? Fox? I hardly know you yet, so Dad just wouldn't feel right, to either of us."

Mulder winced. "Just Mulder. No one call's me Fox." He shot Scully a warning glare which she answered with a tiny smile. "And Mr. Mulder was my father. That brings up another point..." Mulder looked down at his hands, unsure how to continue.

"What Mulder is so eloquently trying to say is, we'd like both of you to undergo a paternity test. We have to be sure, Hope. There have been other instances in our lives when someone has claimed to be... someone they were not in order to manipulate Mulder, or undermine his work." Scully cut in and smiled briefly at the thankful look Mulder gave her.

Hope frowned. "Really? Why would someone want to do that?" She shook her head sadly. "Alright. They've already poked me more then I'd like to think about, what's one more?"

Mulder got up to stand beside Hope, his fingers reached out to brush against the silver charm bracelet she wore. "I noticed this while I was waiting for you to wake up."

"Mom left it for me. This and some pictures of you and her, and her journal. She wrote that you gave her this." Her arm rose to let the tiny charms twinkle in the sunlight.

"Yeah. I bought the bracelet and the first three charms for her birthday.

The rest came sporadically, as we went somewhere or did something and I found them. I'll have to tell you what they all meant one day."

Hope smiled. "I'd like that."

The doctor arrived in the room shortly after to announce Hope's system free of contaminants. He frowned at the request for a paternity test, but given that both parties agrees to it he ordered it done.

When the nurse arrived to draw the blood samples Scully ordered two vials from each of them. One set to be tested through the hospital and another set to be tested by 'outside sources'.

Mulder wheeled Hope into the ICU. Hellen had given up this hour's five minute allotment to the girl. Hope was fully clothed again, due to Scully's foresight in bringing a change of clothing with the teddy bear.

She felt her eyes fill with tears at the sight of Eddie. He had tubes and wires all over. He looked so pale. Hellen had told her he was drifting in and out but he was mostly out.

She reached out and gently took his hand, the unblemished one.

"I'm so sorry Eddie. I never wanted you to get hurt. If I could take this for you, I would. You're one of the best friend's I've ever had, do you know that? I thought... I thought that bastard had killed you. I was ready to give up hope, to just give up, cause I thought you were dead. That you had died trying to protect me. Then I thought you'd want me to fight. You are so brave Eddie. Please, get better. You don't want to die and be a blight on my conscience forever, do you? And hey, I met your lady friend out in the hall. She's hot. I think she's got it for you Eddie. So, you better get better and prove to her that you're the man."

Hope felt his hand squeeze hers and she saw his eyes flutter open. He looked at her, and tried to smile around the tube in his mouth.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Kline." She grinned hugely.

"You're gonna make it. You're just to stubborn to die." Lifting his hand she kissed the back of it. His skin was feverish against her lips.

"Hey, guess what? You did great. This is Fox Mulder." She jerked her thumb to indicate the man behind her, holding the handles of her wheelchair. "You know the guy who owes seventeen years of back child support."

"Gee, thanks," he mumbled. "I wish I could thank you under better circumstances Mr. Kline. But I do thank you. For being there for Hope, and for tracking me down."

Kline blinked twice. He squeezed Hope's hand once more, then faded out.

Back into the realm of amorphous dreams where the pain couldn't follow.

Red Roof Inn

Alexandria, VA

"I'll go get the briefcase. You two go get Hope's things. Hellen said she'd stop by to pick up Kline's stuff later, so leave it, ok?"

Hope nodded and got out of the backseat of the car. "Third tile in from the left hand corner, against the back wall. The case should be balanced on the railings, I figured it'd buckle or go right through those cheap tiles otherwise."

Mulder smiled, giving her more points for brains. He WANTED to believe.

Hope was one hell of a kid.

Hope walked alongside Scully as they went to the hotel room she'd recently shared with Kline. The yellow police tape set it apart from the others. It didn't deter Scully, however. She just pulled it aside and used the key from the front office to enter.

Hope winced. The room was trashed. She refused to look at the blood smeared wall, or the tape outline of where Eddie had fallen. She, instead, started to shove clothes into her bag. Looks like she was gonna become a compulsive clothes washer. The thought of that creep touching her underwear made her want to vomit.

She noticed the wooden box had been smashed open. Tears sprung to her eyes and she crouched beside it, collecting the papers and pictures, and the small journal. She hadn't realized she was so openly weeping until she felt a small hand on her shoulder.

She looked up to see Dana Scully's worried face.

"It's ok. This," she picked up the box and it's contents and deposited it on the bed, "was all my real mother left me. Do you want to see a picture of her?"

Scully sat on the bed. "Yes. I think I would."

Hope handed her six photographs. Snapshots. Moments of time eternally frozen. The girl in the pictures was lovely, and exactly Mulder's type.

Leggy brunette with a figure to stop traffic. The pictures of this girl and a much younger Mulder together were not as painful as she'd thought they would be. Connie McKenzie was dead. Scully found herself unable to maintain a grudge against a woman she never knew and whose life, in the end, had been so tragic. If anything, she did feel sorry for the girl Connie had once been. Her situation wasn't an easy one.

"There was also my birth certificate and my adoption papers, my bracelet, and mom's journal." Hope placed each item back into the intricately carved wooden box with deliberate care. Her fingers danced over the broken brass lock. "He broke it. I don't have much of her, and one of the few things she left me that mother... shit..." She wiped at the tears with the back of her hand.

"It can be fixed, Hope." Scully placed the pictures into the box as well. "I might even know a place that will do it."

Hope smiled sadly. "Thanks. You've been so nice to me. Especially when you have every right not to like me very much."

Scully frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not blind, Ms. Scully. I see the way you and my... Mulder look at each other. I wish someone would look at me like that someday. I've got to be...

inconvenient at best."

"I wouldn't say that." Scully looked away. Uncomfortable with this girl's perceptions. She could deny that there was anything between her and Mulder, but what would be the point? In a few months it was going to be painfully obvious anyway.

"I got it." Mulder announced from the doorway, holding up the briefcase, triumphantly.

Hope's eyes riveted on the case. It held what her daddy had died for, and it held the possible future of the two other people in the room. It looked so...

plain... so innocuous for all that it carried.

What was she going to do?

They stopped at an old warehouse first, and Hope waited with Scully as Mulder ran inside with the two vials of blood.

Hope read the small sign by the door. "The Magic Bullet? You've got to be kidding me."

"Yeah, well, they can be totally off the wall on most things, but they are pretty reliable in other areas."

"Who? What are we really doing here?" Hope eyes the battered looking sheet metal door speculatively.

"Mulder trusts the people that run this newsletter. And even I have to admit they have some pretty useful resources. He wants to make sure the test doesn't get tampered with."

Hope sighed. "You know Mulder gives paranoia a bad name."

Scully chuckled. "Unfortunately a lot of it is well earned."

"Really? Wait a minute, who am *I* to ask really, after the mess my life's become in the last few days?" Hope began to chew at her bottom lip. Or after learning the smokestack's been connected to her a lot longer then she realized.

Hope watched Scully call the mysterious Jackie over her cell phone.

"Jackie, we need a favor. I know we're in the hole at this point, but it's a big one." Scully pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "Yes, I know Marty's in town. We wouldn't ask you if it weren't really important.

Can you meet us in Mulder's office? Thanks."

She snapped the phone closed as Mulder emerged from the dingy looking door a few minutes later and they were off again. This time to FBI headquarters.

J. Edger Hoover Building Washington D.C.

Hope fidgeted with the visitor clip stuck to the neck of her t-shirt. She felt out of place amidst all the suits and tourists. She followed the two agents into an elevator and held her breath as she saw Mulder push the B button.

B as in basement? Oh shit...

Sure enough the doors opened to a dimly lit hallway that screamed basement from the boxes and tubing lining it.

Hope kept chewing on her lip as she was led to a single door on her right.

"X-Files Division. Special Agent Fox Mulder," she read, "Gee, do they occasionally shove food under the door?"

"Smartass." Mulder gave her a playful shove into the room.

"Better a smartass then a dumbass. So why are we here?" Hope crossed to the desk prominent in the room and flopped into the chair.

"You're safe here until we can make arrangements with Jackie. Your surrounded by the FBI's best a brightest." Mulder smirked.

"Forgive me if I'm under whelmed." Hope spotted the picture on Mulder's desk and snatched it up. "Hey, where'd you get this?"

"Mulder plucked the frame from her fingers. "It's not you. It's my sister, Samantha."

"You mean I have an aunt?"

"Sort of. It's a LONG story." Mulder ignored the phone, leaving answering it to Scully. "She's been missing for twenty four years."

"Mulder, that was Margi. Skinner wants to see us, NOW. He wants to know what's going on." Scully stood, waiting.

"Great. Look Hope, I'll pull up my newsgroup server for you, it'll give you something to do while we're gone. Just... stay on the news-server, the rest is password protected anyway." Mulder switched on his computer and punched a few keys.

"Could you... um... leave the door open? I'm kinda freaky in closed in spaces."

"Sure. Come on Mulder. We don't need to piss of Skinner right now."

Scully picked up the briefcase and left the room. Mulder gave Hope an apologetic look and shrugged.

"Look another redheaded lady is gonna be stopping by. Her name is Jackie St. George. Just let her in and tell her we'll be back as soon as we can."

"Gottcha. Hey, Mulder, can you cram anymore adult newsgroups in here?

Jeesh... my dad's a perv." Hope scrolled down the list.

"It's research." He shouted over his shoulder as he moved to catch up with Scully.

"Yeah, right. And I have this bridge to sell you." Hope muttered to no one as she clicked on the alt.startrek.creative group.

They'd taken the briefcase with them. If she actually went along with this...

how was she going to get it away from them?

Chapter 18 - Inherent From The Opened Locks

Mulder held the door open for Scully. She wasn't fooled; that meant she had to proceed him into the lion's den. She shot him a 'gee-thanks-Mulder' look.

Skinner was seated at his desk and his eyes followed them as they entered and seated themselves.

"Do either of you feel like telling me why the Alexandria police department called me last night, at midnight, to inform me that one of my agents had been involved with a fatal shooting?"

"There was a hostage situation involving the case we are working on. The victim is an as yet unidentified white male. The hostage was taken to Alexandria Hospital for treatment of wounds and observation while the drugs she was injected with left her system," Mulder answered, his professional face back in place.

"Yet I was informed by the Alexandria PD. Not by you, Agent Mulder.

Why is that?" Skinner was leaning back and at an angle in his chair, his fingers absently toying with an ink pen.

"The victim needed immediate medical aid, sir. I didn't want to leave her unguarded for any length of time, so I accompanied her to the hospital."

"And, Agent Scully, you were involved with first aid measures to another victim in this same case, were you not? That's why you were not there to back up Agent Mulder."

"Yes, sir, I was. I could not possibly leave that victim, as he was suffering from multiple gunshot wounds."

Skinner held up the three fingers not holding his pen and got immediate silence.

"Agent Mulder, do you have any idea who the shooter is?"

Mulder licked his lips, whether it was in or discomfort wasn't readable. "I think you'll find the dead man's gun was used in the shooting of Edward Kline. As for who shot him... no, sir, I do not. I couldn't see anyone, and my primary concern was retrieving the kidnap victim. Both she and the dead man were going to go over a railing thirty feet above a concrete floor.

By the time I had her safe, there was no sign of the shooter."

"And where is this kidnap victim now? I've made some calls, she was discharged this morning."

"Um... sir, she's in our office. Jackie's coming to help us keep an eye on her until we know exactly what her late father was dealing with." Scully met the A.D.'s gaze directly.

"I see. Is there anything else you'd like to add to this discussion... Agent Mulder?" Skinner's gaze moved from Scully to pin Mulder to his chair.

"No, sir. At this time there's nothing I'd like to add."

Skinner sighed and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You both better make sure you know what you're doing. If I regret not stepping in you will both regret ever leaving Quantico. Do I make myself clear?"

Both agents looked slightly puzzled but nodded. "Then you are dismissed."

As they got up to leave Skinner spoke again, "And Agent Mulder, for a man who has your distaste for paperwork you certainly generate enough.

This is the only time I'll suggest you hold off on filing certain forms until a case is closed. The insurance company can stand to wait."

Mulder froze and turned to look back at Skinner, who appeared to be interested in the form before him, "That will be all Agent Mulder."

Jackie St. George was not in a good mood. Whatever Laurel and Hardy wanted it had better be DAMNED important.

As she moved down the dim hall towards their basement office she immediately sensed something wrong. The office door was open. Mulder never left the door open.

Approaching cautiously, she looked inside to see... a kid sitting at Mulder's desk. OK, not a kid, a girl in her late teens dressed in a baggy, UofOH tee shirt, was going through Mulder's computer.

Jackie noticed the visitor badge pinned to her collar.

"This is a little off the tour route." Jackie stepped into the office, cutting off

the girl's means of escape by blocking the doorway.

"You're telling me? They're lucky the janitorial staff comes down here."

The girl had a quick yet familiar grin. When she looked up at Jackie there was something... odd about her. Jackie felt like she should know her from somewhere.

"You must be Jackie." The kid continued. "Mulder said you'd be by. My name's Hope, by the way. Hope Jamison."

"Nice to meet you, Hope. So where is Mulder? Or Scully for that matter?"

"Someone named Skinner wanted to see them, and from they way they moved I'd say they were in deep shit or something." The girl reached into a plastic baggie of Mulder's sunflower seeds and extracted a few, popping one into her mouth she chewed on it, shell and all.

"And they left you alone down here?" Jackie was having a hard time believing that one.

Hope shrugged, "I guess they figured here was as safe as anywhere right now."

"Safe? Are you in trouble?" Jackie pulled over Dana's chair, sitting she was still between the kid and the door.

"Well some nasty characters have tried to kill me." Hope clicked off the computer.

For the first time Jackie noticed Sam's picture, out of place and turned towards the door, the resemblance between the girl and the child Sam had been was uncanny. Hope noticed Jackie's reaction and followed her gaze.

With a smile she picked up the picture and held it against her cheek.

"Big family resemblance, huh?"

"You're related? How? Why are people trying to kill you?" Jackie had the feeling she was falling into deep waters here.

"People are trying to kill me either for the stuff my father stole documenting non terrestrial DNA, or because I'm Mulder's love child with his high school sweetheart." The kid shrugged. "Go figure."

"What?"

There was a distinct throat clearing behind her and Jackie turned to see Mulder and Scully standing in the doorway.

"I see you two have met." Scully swept into the room. "Thanks for coming, Jackie."

"What the hell is going on here?" St. George shot Mulder an 'explain-or-die' look.

"Well, sounds like Hope pretty much summed it up." Mulder suddenly found his shoes intently interesting.

Hope got out of the chair to stand by Mulder. There was something in the way they stood. Hope had better posture, but the lean was the same... and the resemblance was definitely there. "Congratulation's, its a girl." she announced. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to say that?"

Jackie just stood there, her mouth hanging open. Not many things could throw a dragon for a loop; leave it for Mulder to find one of them.

"And the bad news is, I'm asking YOU to keep her safe, at least until Scully and I can figure out what to do with this." Mulder took the briefcase from Scully and set it on his desk.

"Me? God, Mulder, you really know how to ruin a girl's plans." Jackie couldn't help it, she kept looking from the girl to Mulder and back again.

"What is that anyway?"

Mulder unlocked the case and pulled out the files Scully had gone over in the car. "The same kind of medical files as those we found in West Virginia. Plus film and readouts documenting a fifth and sixth nucleotide in a gene sequence. Something unearthly."

"Mulder, we haven't determined that yet. It could have been a botched test, a contaminated specimen..." Scully cut in.

"And the consortium are trying to get their hands on it so badly because it's a botched test? I don't think so."

"I want to take this to some people who know what they're looking at. Get an objective outside opinion," Scully insisted.

"Last time you did that with similar findings the good doctor you contacted, and her entire family were killed, unless you believe it really was a random car accident." Mulder shot back.

"Well, until you decide what to do with it... I keep it." Hope chimed in.

"No, absolutely not. It's too volatile. As long as you no longer have it they might leave you alone." Mulder's response was immediate.

"Look, my dad DIED for that. I've kept it safe up until now. I don't want it leaving my sight. It's mine. I'm only loaning it to you." Hope crossed her arms, winced, then uncrossed them. It was hard to appear tough when your breast still throbbed with pain.

"And we are thankful for that. But now we're here to take some of the heat off of you."

"Fine, then whichever of you keeps it stay with Jackie too. That way, *I* still get to keep it in sight as well. Try to see where I'm coming from here, guys." Hope threw her arms up in the air.

"Oh no... I'm not running a boarding house, for cryin' out loud. The kid only." Jackie's tone and look broached no argument.

"No, Hope. We take this with us." Mulder wasn't going to relent either.

"Jackie, can we see you in the hall for a minute?"

The three moved into the hall and Mulder closed the door. Refusing to panic, Hope eyed the briefcase speculatively.

"She's had a rough couple of days." Mulder started. "Her adoptive father was murdered, she was on the run with that file, and just last night a real bastard kidnaped her and..." his hands tightened into fists, "and cut her.

Tortured her to try to find those files. She was injected with a chemical cocktail that just left her system this morning. She just needs some rest and... normalcy."

"So you ask ME to take her? Mulder, I'm as far from normal as you get...

except maybe YOU." Jackie shook her head, amazed that after what Mulder just told her the girl in the room wasn't a gibbering idiot. She had guts, she'd give her that. "Ok, I'll do it. You want a dragon to protect her, you got it. But remember, I don't pull any punches."

"I don't want you to." Mulder's face was without humor.

"Right. And in payment for this little service, you owe me one hell of a story when this is over. Like how you got a teenage daughter for starters."

Chapter 19 - But Worth The Cost To Fill Our Plate

Hope held her gym bag of meager belongings close as Jackie escorted her into her apartment. Hope had told Jackie about her search for her birth parents, and about the last few days on the ride over. Jackie had told Hope about meeting Mulder at a UFO conference, and later being assigned to work with him on one fateful case that had led to a long and deep friendship.

"Do you think he'll have time for me when the baby comes?" Hope asked cautiously.

"They told you about that? Hope, don't worry, they'll have time for you. If nothing else you present a not-to-be-missed babysitting opportunity here."

Jackie winked and gave the kid a playful shove into the apartment.

Hope felt herself crumble inside. It was true. There was a brother or sister waiting to be born, and right now its future rested solely in Hope's hands.

She felt sick. She wanted to run and hide. She didn't want this. Any of it.

She didn't want the responsibility.

"Marty... we have company." Jackie called into the apartment.

Marty emerged from the kitchen, a glass of juice in his hands. He looked at Hope with a puzzled expression.

"This is Hope Jamison... Mulder's daughter. Hope, Marty Nantus." Jackie was grinning like a Cheshire cat at the look on Marty's face. Hey, if it got pulled on her the least she could do was enjoy pulling it on someone else.

Marty just happened to be the only available person.

"You're kidding, right?"

Hope shook her head. "Long story. Longer few days. I hate to be a pain, but... is there somewhere I can crash for a few hours? I'm exhausted."

Jackie nodded. Hope felt bile rise in her throat at the understanding look the woman gave her. "Right through there. Use my bed, I changed the sheets this morning."

"Thank you. Jackie, you are being so nice. I want you to know I really appreciate it. No matter what."

"It's only a bedroom, kid. Tonight you get the couch." Jackie smirked as Hope dashed into the bedroom.

Turning to Marty Jackie's grin disappeared. "I'll give you the Readers Digest condensed version..."

Hope felt both blessed and cursed when she saw the fire escape at the bedroom window. She tossed her gym bag on the bed and opened it.

She hadn't lied. She was exhausted. But there was still much to do.

She pulled out the files she taken from the briefcase and felt their weight in her hands. They weighed as much as a mountain. Approximately two pounds of paper and medical film. The weight of a life. Of two lives. Of three... for if anything happened to Dana and the baby what would happen to Mulder?

She felt the weight of a family she didn't know, a family she might be throwing away the chance to know. She wiped away a tear and slid open the bedroom window. She moved slowly, to keep the metal from creaking.

It was only a matter of time before the theft was detected. Only a matter of time before her escape was noticed. She just prayed the smokestack was still watching her, would find her and make his bargain. She just prayed she wasn't selling her soul to Satan.

"Mulder, we have to get an outside opinion. Then we have to decide what to DO with these files." Scully drummed her fingers against the briefcase on her lap.

"First thing we do is make copies. Lots of copies," Mulder muttered.

"We could have done that at the Bureau."

"I didn't want anyone there to see what we have yet. Office Max is just ahead." Mulder made the turn into the parking lot of the named store.

"You don't trust anyone so you're going to make copies at a chain store.

Mulder, sometimes your logic eludes me."

"Logic? It just seemed a good idea at the time. Come on."

They approached the copy center and placed the briefcase on the counter.

"We can make the copies ourselves." He opened the briefcase to find the files... missing. "What the..." realization dawned on him and made his stomach lurch. "Hope."

"But why? She knows how important they are." Scully frowned.

"I don't know. I really hope it's just her need to protect them herself." They turned around and retraced their steps to the car. "Call Jackie, tell her Hope has the files and we're coming by to pick them up."

Jackie had just finished explaining what she knew to Marty when the phone rang.

"Yo." She listened to the voice at the other end. "That kid has more balls than brains. Takes after her father alright." Jackie stood and crossed to the bedroom door she gave a few quick raps before opening it and finding it...

empty.

"Oh shit!"

One "What?" came from the living room, the other from the phone.

"She's gone, out the window by the looks of it. You said I was supposed to guard her. Not that I was supposed to be her guard. Jesus... I'm goin' after her, she can't have gotten far on foot."

Jackie slammed the phone down.

"I'm going with you." Marty was already grabbing his jacket.

Hope walked swiftly. She couldn't run. It hurt too much.

She had no idea where to go. She had to assume he'd find her. Well, he'd better hurry.

She crossed a park full of children and set on a bench. Moving targets were harder to find. She wondered who'd find her first.

She didn't have a long wait. His car was black, but nondescript. He rolled down his window.

"You have the files." His watery eyes fell on them.

"Your word. Your word Dana and her baby will be left alone." Hope clutched the files over her chest, hugging them to herself.

"You have it. I'll make sure there is no interference with the pregnancy or the child's development once it's born."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't." He took a drag from his ever-present cigarette. "You'll have to take my word on faith. But my word IS good, especially when given to you, Hope."

"Who are you? Who are you to me?" Hope snapped.

"Family is important, don't you think? One must remain loyal to one's blood." He held out his hand.

Hesitantly, Hope placed the files in his waiting palm.

"You've made the right decision, Hope. Is this all of it?"

Hope looked him straight in the eye. "It's all I have."

"You've done well." His eyes flashed across the park. "It's time to go.

Don't worry too much, Hope. I'll be watching you."

His car sped out of sight and his words sent a chill down her spine.

She looked across the park, following where his gaze had gone. She saw the Wrangler, the two people getting out, and at the edge of the park, Jackie and Marty running in her direction.

She steeled herself. Time to face the music.

Mulder and Scully were running across the park as well. Scully paused and pulled out her cell phone, slowing as she spoke into it. Of the four heading for her, Mulder arrived first. He grabbed her arm painfully.

"You handed them over, didn't you?" There was such venom in his voice she flinched away from it. "It's been a set up from the start. Just get the Hell out of here. Go back to you masters and tell them you've done a good job. You've earned your thirty pieces of silver. How could I ever have thought we were related? Your worse then He is. At least He admits up front about his agenda." His voice was at top volume and he hadn't released her arm. He raised his arm to point at the flow of traffic the black car had disappeared into.

His accusations cut to the bone. Deeper then the madman's knife, and much more painful.

Hope flinched as much from the verbal assault as from the raising of his arm. "Go ahead, hit me, you bastard. It's probably what I would have had to live with if Connie never gave me away. A lifetime under a control freak with a temper. Go ahead, hit me, punch me. Are you going to hit the new baby, too? Fuck you Mulder. You only hear what you WANT to hear.

Eddie told me I might be better off never looking for my birth parents. I think he was right."

She wrenched away from his grip, feeling the soreness that would mark bruises.

Mulder had frozen. Her words had struck to the bone. "How... how did you know about the new baby?"

"He told me asshole, he told me and promised to leave it and Scully alone for those files. But you don't want to hear that. You'd rather fling accusations. I don't want, need or deserve that. So fuck off. I'm going home. Where I'm wanted. Where I have a LIFE. Where I'm FAR away from YOU!"

Hope didn't care that there was an audience. She didn't care about the pain in her chest, the emotional far outweighed the physical anyway. She fled.

Past the stock still and dumbfounded Jackie and Marty, past Scully, and down the street.

Scully approached Mulder slowly. "Mulder." He flinched a bit but spun to face her. Both anger and confusion on his face. "Mulder, that was Frohike.

Your cell phone's off, by the way." She looked at him sorrowfully.

"Mulder, they ran the test at top priority, and rechecked it three times.

Hope IS your daughter, Mulder. Yours makes up half of her genetic makeup."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Jackie elbowed Marty in the ribs. "Come on, I think I know where she went."

"Where?" he asked.

"Her gym bag and teddy bear were left at my place, remember."

"What about him?" Marty gestured to Mulder.

"I think he better cool down first. The poor kid got herself backed into a corner. Now she has to live with her choices. Mulder has to learn to live with them, too." Jackie tugged at Marty's sleeve and led the way back to her apartment.

Hope was out of breath and her arms ached. She'd climbed back up the fire escape, figuring the front door was locked. Luck was with her, in their haste Jackie had left the window open.

Luck wasn't with her. Jackie was waiting inside. Seated on the bed.

"Shit," Hope muttered under her breath.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance, young lady."

Hope raised her chin defiantly. "I only came for my things. I wasn't going to rob you blind or anything."

"I know." Jackie's face was still sympathetic. It made Hope want to run to the older woman and cry on her shoulder. She wouldn't allow that, however. She hated the knowledge that her face was still wet from the tears she'd shed on her run over here.

"You can't hold me against my will. I didn't commit a crime." Hope knew she sounded afraid, and grit her teeth against it.

"Technically, you stole evidence and hampered a federal investigation, which is a federal offense. Lucky for you, I'm not with the FBI. I'm not here to stop you. Not if you really want to go. I'm here to ask you to give Mulder another chance. I think you both need one."

Hope shook her head and grabbed her gym bag. She picked up her teddy bear and laughed at some joke only she could fathom. She tossed the bear at Jackie, who caught it easily.

"Give that to Mulder. Tell him to rip Mr. Pookie's heart out like he did mine. The payoff's better." Hope slung the bag over her shoulder and walked out, with only a nod to Marty.

Mulder and Scully arrived ten minutes later. Mulder was still sullen.

"Did she come back here?" he asked.

Jackie nodded and handed him the bear. "She said, and I quote 'tell him to rip Mr. Pookie's heart out like he did mine. The payoff's better."

Mulder looked down at the teddy bear, at the neat row of stitched over its heart. His eyes widened and he dug out his pocket knife. He carefully cut each stitch, trying not to further damage the battered doll. With a shaking hand he probed into the stuffing. He bit his lip as he pulled out a small yellow case. A specimen case. Exactly like the ones he and Scully had seen both in the West Virginia mine and at Delmark labs.

Hope had kept the final piece, and despite her hurt and anger, had left it for him.

"Mulder?" Scully's voice barely registered as his knees gave. He felt the tears on his face, but couldn't associate them yet.

What had he said? What had he done?"Where is she?" he asked Jackie.

"I don't know, Mulder. She left. She needs time to herself now. Without those files I think she'll be ok." Jackie watched Scully kneel beside Mulder and wrap her arm around him, she watched him bury his head into her shoulder and begin to sob.

Uncomfortable about seeing anymore she motioned for Marty to join her and they both left the apartment. Allowing the two inside to cope as best they could.

Chapter 20 - With The Final Content Of Pandora'S Box

Two weeks later:

Scully looked across the office at Mulder. He was unusually quiet. Had been for the past two weeks. Hope had disappeared out of DC, but they were able to confirm that she was back in Cleveland, at her dorm. Trying to get on with her life. She had not returned any calls, and if the answering machine didn't pick up they were always greeted by the cheerful yet firm voice of Hope's roommate, Karen.

Hope did, however, repeatedly call the hospital to check up on Eddie.

Eddie was recovering nicely, and seemed to look forward to his short phone conversations with his favorite 'client'. Almost as much as he looked forward to the visits he got from Hellen.

Mulder had visited Eddie, and confessed all, hoping the other man's longer association with Hope might give him some insight on how to proceed.

Kline had told Mulder to give her space. Let her heal.

In the past two weeks Mulder only brightened when they visited their mothers and told them of the upcoming wedding. Maggie had embraced him so hard he complained of bruises. Teena Mulder had given Scully a warm hug and a softly spoken welcome to the family.

They still hadn't told Skinner.

The ringing of the phone cut through the silence of the office.

"Mulder" His answered numbly.

"What does one asshole say to the other?" The voice on the other end of the phone was one he'd been wanting to hear for an eternity.

"I... I don't know. What?" Scully saw the look on his face and made all the proper connections. She smiled at him encouragingly.

"Pucker up and kiss my face. I guess being an asshole is another genetic drawback I can trace to you, huh?"

"Probably. I've been accused of it more than once." He smiled softly.

"Yeah, well, so have I. You know what? I discovered something in the past two weeks, other than that you're a jerk and I'm just as much of one."

"And what might that be?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"I don't have a life. Funny, isn't it? No friends, other than Karen. My boyfriend dumped me for a sorority chick who puts out. My classes fill up my mind and my time, but there is nothing here but memories. I miss him, Mulder."

"I know you do." He wanted to reach through the phone line and embrace her.

"Everywhere I look there are memories. It's getting awkward. I think Karen is getting tired of babysitting me and trying to drag me into a social life. So... I hear Georgetown has a damn good Pre-Med program..."

Mulder's smile nearly split his face. Scully was watching him and patiently waiting to be filled in.

"An excellent one, in fact. And there happens to be a bridesmaid position open here as well..."

Location Unknown
New York, New York

The man steepled his fingers as he sat at the conference table. Between his elbows and under his steepled fingers lay the files.

"What made you make such a deal?"

The man at the other end of the table inhaled smoke and gestured with his cigarette. "If we keep it, we can deal with her again. She's in interesting tool. One with many possibilities."

"Yes, I can see the potentialities presented here. What I want to know is why you ordered her protected, and what happened to Cross?"

"I dislike wasting resources that can be put to better uses. As for Cross, we both know we are not the only agency interested in Mulder's work. Perhaps another intervened." The man's eyes never wavered as he took another drag.

The man folded his gentleman's hands over the files. "Very well. That will be all, for now."

With the dismissal the Smoking Man left the room.

Well manicured fingers drummed against the retrieved files. Yes, Hope Jamison was going to prove an interesting game piece. For he realized she could control more them Mulder, but his own dark knight as well...

The End

End