Title: Gwen
Author: Tracey H.
Written: Dec 1995
Disclaimer: Characters are copyright Chris Carter and 10-13 Productions- except Gwen, who's all mine! This story has a "G" rating, clean as it gets. :(

Summary: When a man shows up at Scully's door with a bomb strapped to his body, it's up to the FBI's unconventional hostage negotiator to keep the bomber - and Mulder - calm.

Hello. This is my first posting to the atxc group, a thirty-odd page story called "Gwen". Gwen is a character I've dreamed up- I hope to keep following in future stories what becomes of her after fate throws her in the way of Mulder and Scully. Barring any unforseen catastrophes, their paths will keep crossing and she'll weave her in and out of the existing mythology. This is a "first season" story, i.e. before the X-Files were closed.

Before I go on, many thanks to Rob, Chantal and Tracy, for their incredible support. Without them, I'd never be able go through with this.

I'd love to hear comments, criticism, etc.

Dana Scully swept through the kitchen, expertly scooping up her briefcase in one hand and draining the chalky remains of her half-finished coffee into the sink with the other. She left the kitchen light on as she breezed into the hall - no telling how late she was going to be tonight. Pausing in front of the hallway mirror to apply a final coat of lipstick to her full lips before going, she heard a resounding knock at the door, interrupting the last coat of Burnt Melon.

The lipstick paused in mid smear - she hadn't buzzed anyone up. She capped the lipstick and glanced at her wristwatch: time to get going. Again, the knocking came, insistent, hammering. It had to be a neighbour. Scully had the feeling she was going to be late. She sighed.

A neighbour at this hour would be odd. She pressed herself against the door, her hand resting on the reassuring metal of the dead-bolt lock.

"Yes?" She managed to preempt another bout of knocking.

"Dr. Scully I have to talk to you." The voice behind the door was soft and breathlessly unpunctuated. Scully had heard it before but could not place it, a vague twinkling in the recesses of her memory. "Please let me in - it's urgent you're in grave danger -"

Scully bit her lip. He was not a neighbour. The voice was shaking and high - clearly he was upset about something. She turned the lock, her other hand on the butt of her gun. Slowly she opened the door.

The first thing she noticed about him was that he was soaking wet with perspiration. The acidy odor of sweat stung her nostrils. Then her eyes fell to the large lumpy vest - the kind hunters and fishermen wore. Its pockets and seams were straining full. Tiny wires wove in and out of the vest like a dizzy tapestry.

For an instant Scully had the impression he was there to fix something - some kind of handyman. He smiled at her weakly when she opened the door.

A dribble of sweat ran into his eye and he flinched. "Dr.Scully I am wearing enough explosives to kill us both and take the building with us - Please let me in I have to have my say."

Mulder briskly walked into the office, his shoulders hunched and his back sore from another cramped night on the sofa. In classic fashion, he'd had trouble sleeping and then, when he finally managed some shut-eye, he overslept his alarm. He saved some time by not shaving and made it in fairly on-time. He half-expected to see Scully already there, but the office was empty and smelt like dusty papers, no hint of Scully's light perfume.

He turned the lights and the coffee machine on, and then sat at his desk to peruse a new issue of the Swamp Gas Journal, while the coffee maker dribbled noisily away.

The man with the bomb stared Scully in the eyes. Down the hallway, a door clicked open and a woman came out of her apartment.

At the same moment that she looked up to see who else was in the hall with her, a "good-morning" smile half-formed on her face, the sweaty, soft spoken man generously waved an automatic rifle vaguely in her direction. She hit the floor as a spray of bullets splattered across the corridor in an arc. Like a frightened lizard she scrambled across the carpeted hall back into her apartment.

Jerkily violent, he reached into Scully's apartment and grabbed at her head, winding an ample amount of her hair in his fingers. Deftly, he withdrew her gun from its holster and tossed it back into her apartment. With an abrupt yank, he forced her out into the hallway in front of him, firing shots into the ceiling. Plaster rained down on them, smoking up the air.

"Please stay inside your apartments I've got a bomb-" He made an effort to speak loudly over the gunfire. "Stay inside please - I will kill us all I have the tools and I will use them."

He was startled momentarily from his rant when the telephone rang in Scully's apartment. Scully's head involuntarily turned towards her door and he snapped her abruptly back. Sounds of her answering machine message drifted eerily out into the hall. He fired a few more rounds into the walls, his expression thoughtful, and then dragged Scully back with him to her apartment where the answering machine's red light blinked patiently.

Once inside, he left the door to the hall open and, with surprising gentleness, let go of her hair. Scully straightened up, brushing tears off of her cheeks and rubbing her head. She was surprised her scalp wasn't bleeding. The sweating man leaned toward her with a look of unexpected earnestness.

"Do you believe me that the bomb is real?" he asked softly, holding open the vest to reveal what looked like several pounds of children's putty with wires worked in. "The bomb is real - I have the tools and I will use them." Even through the reek of his sweat soaked clothes, Scully could detect the slight plastique odor that she had been trained to recognize. Dumbly, she nodded.

Mulder was absorbed in his magazine when the knock came at the door. He looked up. It had to be Scully, but she wouldn't knock unless she was carrying something. He froze when he heard the jingling of keys. It was Scully. Mulder sat down and picked up his magazine.

The door swung open. Two agents stood there.

"Don't you answer the door?" one of them asked.

"Can I help you?" Mulder asked, a twinge of sarcasm playing on his mouth.

"I'm Agent Bradley and this is Agent Stephens. We'd like to talk to Agent Scully. Is she here?"

Mulder stood up. "No." He began. They didn't look pleased. They hadn't impressed him so far, but he could tell from their faces that they meant business. "Is something wrong?"

"Are you Mulder?" Stephens did not acknowledge his question.

Mulder jabbed his finger at the security pass dangling from his breast pocket with his name printed on it in big, bold letters.

Bradley handed him a fax. It was a long list of names. "In the last four days three of these people have been killed by an unknown gunman. Four more people have been injured. He seems to have some sort of game plan but we're not sure what he's going on. The last attack, Vermont, a retired Air Force major was found shot. We thought we had him, but he slipped through our fingers. He left a list behind. We have reason to believe that the people named on this list are his intended victims-"

Mulder skimmed the fax, feeling his stomach clench up.

His eyes fell upon the familiar shape of Scully's name. He looked up. "Scully?"

The agents shrugged. "We've been sent to protect her for the time being. As for why any of those people are on that list, well, Agent Mulder, we thought you could formulate-"

Mulder sat down with the fax. "I get it. While you're here to protect Scully you want me to analyze this. One stop shopping."

The two agents nodded. Bradley looked at his watch. "What time is Agent Scully due in?"

Mulder glanced at the clock. It was 8:35 and he picked up the telephone, dialling her number. "She should have been here about five minutes ago." The agents glanced at one another.

While it rang at Scully's end, Mulder looked at them. "Did you send someone over there?"

Bradley nodded. "Of course. And, Agent Mulder, for all we know that list is a decoy...."

Scully's answering machine came on after a few more rings. Mulder gave up and turned back to them. He didn't feel well. "She's not there."

Bradley shrugged. "She's probably long since left for work. Maybe she's caught in traffic." Mulder nodded, the ache in his stomach intensifying.

"Maybe she was abducted by aliens." Stephens sniggered, pointing at the poster over his desk. The pain in Mulder's stomach did a backflip. Not today, not after a lousy night's sleep and no shave, not when Scully was unusually late for work. He stood up suddenly, his eyes steely-cold and brought his face close to Stephens' smirking mug.

"Listen-" He was interrupted by the electronic chirp of a cell-phone. Like a choreographed dance the three of them reached for their cell phones. It was Bradley's. He stepped away.

Stephens turned back to Mulder, his smarmy grin widening. "You were about to say-?"

"Asshole." He hissed under his breath. Mulder grabbed his arm just below the elbow and squeezed it tightly for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Stephens' smile cracked, a flicker of fear flashing behind his eyes. Mulder released his grip. "Lay off."

Bradley waved to them both. "We're there." He signed off and looked at Mulder and Stephens. They looked back. "We've found him." Bradley said and was through the door. Without hesitation, Mulder and Stephens were out into the hall, running after him.

Mulder caught up with Bradley. "Where is he?" He panted, suddenly out of breath.

As they ducked into the stairwell, Bradley wouldn't look at him. "911 just got thirteen separate 10-67 calls about firearms discharged at Agent Scully's building." They pounded down the stairwell. "None of them were from her. There've also been reports of a bomb threat."

Mulder wiped the sweat on his upper lip with the back of his hand. The three agents sounded like an army drumming down the concrete stairs. Bradley didn't miss a beat.

"It looks like this could be our guy. Agent Mulder, you are aware that you do not have to accompany us on this assignment -if you feel that for any reason-"

Mulder cut him off. "I know. I'm coming."

Bradley nodded. "We don't even know if she's there, Agent Mulder."

Scully had regained some of her composure. He had pulled one of the chairs away from the dining table and set it in the center of the room for her. She sat very still, her hands on her lap. "What are you doing this for?" she asked softly.

"Stinking FBI with their rockets and bombs - they don't want to hear the what's really going on-" the man with the bomb grabbed Scully's wrists suddenly. He pulled her close. "It's too late now - I will kill us all if I can't make them listen - this time they're going to hear me." She slid around in his sweaty hands, realizing that she too was perspiring. He pulled out a roll of duct tape from one of his myriad pockets and ripped a large piece of with his teeth. "I have to tie you-" he began, binding her hands behind her back. "Please don't be difficult."

Fifteen minutes later, Mulder was peering cautiously out of a fifth-story window at the apartment block across the way. The street was empty except for the S.W.A.T. team, and even they skittered from one cover to another occasionally to avoid the sniper's frighteningly accurate aim. He scanned the building's warm brick facade. The call had come in: Scully was in there. He turned away, letting the black fabric fall back into place, palms sweating. Hadn't anyone come up with a cooler bulletproof vest?

The office had formerly been the copy room of a marketing firm, but now it had been usurped by a convention of men wearing bulletproof vests that matched Mulder's. Wires crisscrossed the floor, walkie-talkies lay all around, and all manner of weaponry scattered about gave the copy room the aura of a bunker.

One of the men in vests, Special Agent Burton, came over to Mulder. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. "We've reached Gwen Gardiner and she's on her way down."

Mulder had no clue what he was talking about. The other agents, however, appeared to be thoroughly impressed. A ripple of quiet approval ran through them and they began speaking of her in hushed, excited tones.

"Gwen Gardiner?" Mulder finally asked. His mind was on Scully. How was she holding up?

"She's with the HRT - the best hostage negotiator this side of anywhere," Burton said sternly.

Hostage Rescue Team. Mulder nodded numbly. He hoped that was the case. It had been too late for the others on the list. He wasn't getting his hopes up just yet. He returned to the window, moved the black cloth aside just a fraction and looked outside again. Why did this have to happen to Scully and not him?

On the street below, a S.W.A.T. officer ducked from his position behind a mailbox to a concrete pillar just a few feet away.

Shots rang out, echoing between the concrete buildings.

A bullet neatly caught the leg of the officer, but he managed to pull himself to safety, leaving a thin trail of blood. Instantly the walkie-talkies crackled to life and the men in the vests, sweating already, jumped into action, bellowing commands. Mulder watched this all morosely. He hated these situations. It reminded him of the high-school locker room - all the bullying and shouting - the thick smell of sweaty nervousness - it made him feel nauseous. The energy in the room swelled to a crescendo.

"10-53! Man down!"

"Two shots fired - leg wound!"

"Get him out of there!"

"Hold your positions!"

"Back off! Back off!"

Mulder closed his eyes. While he was wondering if Scully secretly believed in telepathy, the room suddenly quieted. He snapped his eyes open.

There, at the door, were four more agents in field dress. In their midst was a mousy haired brunette in a green skirt with a knapsack. She carried her bulletproof vest over her arm. "Hi, everybody," she said, cheerfully enough. There was a muted chorus of 'Hi Gwen' from the men assembled, like a group of children greeting their kindergarten teacher.

In fact, thought Mulder, she looked like a teacher. She was plain, but there was certainly nothing wrong with her face. What made her stand out was that her serene look of benignity made her appear angelic.

Smiling amicably, eyes darting about the room, assessing - sizing things up, she said nothing for a moment. The assemblage waited for her to speak.

"So what's up?" she asked in an easygoing west-coast drawl. "They briefed me in the car."

Burton spoke up. "He's been holed up in there for a half an hour with an agent of ours, an Agent Scully. We have reason to believe she's still alive. He's sniping from a fifth-floor window. So far he's shot two people, one fatally."

"That's pretty much what they told me," Gwen nodded. "Okay. What's this Scully's detail?"

Burton looked over to Mulder, who straightened up from his hunched position. "She investigates paranormal occurrences. She's also a medical doctor."

Gwen smiled. It was one of those great smiles that makesyou want to see it again almost immediately. "Well, that's handy . . . "

Mulder was starting to have a little hope. Thank God the FBI hadn't sent out the usual hard-assed negotiator for this one. Burton pointed over to the covered window. "We've blacked out all of the windows on this side to conceal our movements and the S.W.A.T. team is holding the basic Tactical Position around the perimeter. We've got our land lines up and running so the phones are good."

She smiled again, and Mulder felt the tightness in the room loosen a little. "Good. So it's just the two of them in there? The street's been evacuated?"

Burton nodded and in a second she was animated, pointing here and there, waving men away.

"Great. Okay, all of you - clear out, and take this junk with you. I need room. Stay on the floor beneath. I'll need a desk, a pad of paper, a pen-"

Burton handed her a headset. "We brought this for you to use."

She examined it. "Are you tapped into it?"

He grinned. "We have to monitor everything. We'll be right there with you every step of the way."

"No thank-you." It was promptly handed back. "I don't need you guys breathing down my neck." She reached into the knapsack she had brought with her and pulled out a cell phone phone. When she saw Burton's dismayed expression, she took the headset back from him. "I'll keep yours for talking to you guys and I'll use my phone to talk to Mr. Hostage-Taker. Monitor me if you must, but don't phone me with reviews every forty seconds, all right?" When he continued to look disappointed, she shrugged. "They mess my hair, okay? Now please get these guys out of here."

Mulder watched her carefully, uncertain of her behavior. He wasn't leaving, he had to be there for Scully. When Mulder didn't move, Gwen came over to him. She extended her hand. "I'm Gwen Gardiner."

He shook it. "I'd like to stay. I'm Fox Mulder, Scully's partner."

For a long moment, she said nothing, staring at him levelly, placid amid the scraping and bumping of the agents dragging their equipment hurriedly into the hall.

"Are you two close?" she asked suddenly.

Mulder felt his face get hot in the already hot room. He fought it down. Gwen waited patiently. He said nothing for a moment, considering his options. "No, well, I mean, we're friends, but if you mean-" He felt like he couldn't get on top of what he wanted to say. His mind was cluttered with odds and ends of details and information, a postmodernist paradise.

She grinned at him.

"I wasn't asking if you and Scully were in a relationship, Agent Mulder, I just want to know if you two were close." She spoke quietly, under the noise of the agents decamping. Mulder heard her. She patted his arm. "Relax, Fox. The rest is none of my business."

Before he could reply she had turned and grabbed the arm of Burton as he rushed by with equipment. "Can you get me the menus from some local restaurants and a few schedules of departures from Dulles and National?"

Burton whipped out a pad and wrote it down, not commenting. As he turned away to put her orders into place, she tugged at his arm again, eyeing Mulder.

"And Agent Mulder can stay."

Confused, but saying nothing, Burton nodded and hurried off.

From outside there was faint sound of sniper fire zinging off the building. Gwen looked over to Burton. "That's not your men, is it?"

In a second, the window exploded into a million pieces, and glass flew everywhere. Instinctively, everyone threw themselves to the ground, holding their breaths. When Mulder looked over to Gwen, she lay on the floor, lightly brushing glass dust off of her skirt with a scrap of paper.

"All right everyone. That's your cue to get downstairs," she said firmly. Nobody moved. "Thank you for all of your help. I'll be fine," she said pointedly, getting to her feet. Like dull zombies the agents rose to their feet. Slowly they shuffled out. Mulder moved toward the door, unsure if she wanted him there. As he went by her she caught his vest and held him back. With her other hand she guided Burton, about to protest, gently out after his men.

"Thank you so much for everything. I'll call if I need you. Thanks, bye."

She shut the door. Mulder pointed to the bullet-proof vest that she had left on the table. Gwen's eyes followed his finger. "I don't mean to nag, but don't you think-?" Mulder began.

She smiled at him and picked up her telephone. "It's too hot." She sat down. "I've got to call this guy right away or he'll blow us to bits," she said, dialling. Mulder backed off and sat atop a stack of Xerox paper boxes. The room seemed huge without the tactical squad perspiring in it.

Gwen tucked the phone under her chin and waited patiently, staring vacantly out of the smashed in window at the apartments across the street. She stroked the bullet-proof vest absent-mindedly. Mulder stared at his hands. He could make out the sound of a ring pattern coming from the earpiece of Gwen's cell-phone.

"Paranormal occurences, huh?" she said suddenly.

Mulder looked up, surprised. "Yeah." He answered, having no idea what she was getting at. He hoped she wouldn't ask him to explain. Not today. He was too wiped.

Gwen doodled aimlessly on a pad, the phone sandwiched between her shoulder and her ear. "That must be interesting," she said conversationally.

"It is." Mulder stopped himself from a longer reply.

She continued doodling. "Is that like ghosts and stuff?"

Mulder nodded, feeling another long explanation coming on. "The unexplained. Extreme possibilties-"

She laughed very suddenly, causing him to jump.

Suddenly he felt angry at her lackadaisical manner. What about Scully? They were losing time.

"What are we doing?" he asked, an edge of tight frustration in his voice.

She stared away. "We are waiting for somebody to answer the phone."

Exhaling, Mulder felt suddenly despondent. He stood up. "Is that all HRT does? Wait for the phone to ring? That's it, isn't it?"

Gwen put her pen down and looked at him, the phone still cradled between her ear and shoulder. She waited a moment before speaking, and when she did, her voice was very quiet. "I am not with the HRT. HRT are a bunch of tight-ass snipers who at this very minute are looking to find the easiest way to take Mr. Hostage-Taker out. I disagree with this approach and I would love to explain it to you, perhaps at some other time."

Mulder's face went red. He nodded. "Okay. Do your job. I'm sorry."

He sat back down. She grinned warmly at him. "Don't go ballistic on me, Fox. I don't need-" Suddenly, she snapped to attention.

"Hello?!" She pointed excitedly to the telephone in her hand, raising her eyebrows at Mulder. "Hello? Is there anyone there?"

Scully sat perfectly still as the sweating man with the bomb taped her hands behind her back. He knelt before her and taped her ankles to the legs of her own chair. There was something strangely comforting about being held hostage in her own apartment. The tape stuck to her nylon stockings and her ankles slid around inside them. She promised herself that she would write a book about the whole thing if she ever got out alive. He straightened up, apparently done.

"Who are you - I know you, don't I?" Scully asked softly.

He nodded, his eyes on the hallway outside her open door. His hands slid over his rifle.

"Yes." He answered distantly. He suddenly marched to the door and aimlessly let loose with more shots into the hallway. "

Everybody please stay inside or I will kill you all!" he shouted, framed in her doorway. He returned to her. "Yes you know me."

Scully tried to think. Maybe someone in the building would call 911. Her mind was blank. She stared at his vest.

He leaned in close to her. Her nose involuntarily wrinkled as the smell waves of metallic sweat overcame her. He frowned and straightened up. "I smell awful I know - I can't help it." He went over to her window and drew the curtain across. "Do you remember Louis T. Bernard?" He asked her.

Scully blinked. "Yes-" She said suddenly. "We-we interviewed you a year ago."

At the time even Mulder had dismissed him as a harmless crank. He had had a good story; ufos had tried to contact him, the government got involved, sightings increased and the government had tried to silence him, somebody (the story had changed several times in the telling,) had implanted something in his nose and the aliens kept following him. He had them both going for a while.

Scully thought of that infuriating poster Mulder had hung over his desk. Louis Bernard was an engaging storyteller and Scully was drawn into his dilemma by the incredible amout of detail he had supplied. They had wasted a lot of tape on his ramblings.

However gripping, his story did not hold up well to cross-examination. He had become flustered and defensive when they had tried to double-check his claim and like a giant tumbleweed, in each retelling, his story collected more facts and details, growing into a huge universe-wide conspiracy.

She did not remember exactly when Mulder had started to become skeptical of Bernard's pose; she had begun having doubts when he fervently insisted that the almost invisible scar on his nose from a deviated septum operation was in actuality evidence of a secret joint alien/US government operation to plant a high-powered device in his nose. Mulder's attitude changed somewhere between his claim that he had obsessively built models of the Devil's Tower in Utah and his divulging that he was writing a book on his ordeals.

Scully had believed him to a point, but when his story began to fall apart, she grilled him mercilessly. From then on, Mulder had sat in stony silence, staring blankly at Bernard, seething with embarrassment on the inside. The ramblings went on and on. Soon the entire universe had been implicated.

Mulder had slammed down on the STOP button of the tape recorder. His digust was palpable. Scully had leaned forward and shaken Bernard's hand, while Mulder got up and paced the room angrily.

"Thank-you." she had begun, standing up. "That is more than enough information for us to go on."

Bernard looked between the two of them, his eyes wide. "But that's just the beginning - I have so much more-"

"We'll wait for your book," Mulder snapped with brittle sarcasm. However it had been intended, Bernard had taken it the wrong way. He rose to his feet, his eyes alight.

"Yes yes certainly I'll write it all down-" He stepped towards Mulder. "It will explain everything-"

"Thank you." Scully had said firmly at that point, and showed him, still explaining, to the door of the office. Perhaps she had been brusque but she had become an expert at Mulder's moods and she knew he had been badly burned by Louis T. Bernard.

At the present moment however, Louis T. Bernard was cursing and pointing his gun out of the window. Scully thought she saw the alternating flash of blue and red police lights reflect briefly on his face but she couldn't be sure. "Oh god they're here..." He moaned. In the meantime, he had developed an unseemly twitch. He looked back at Scully. "Yes you interviewed me. You do remember. Now you'll all listen, won't you."

Scully felt herself nod dumbly. She wondered if Mulder had noticed her absence yet. Bernard leaned out of the window and fired a few shots, the reports ringing sharply through her apartment. She could sense a scuffle of action out on the street, and wondered if the police knew about his bomb.

After Scully had forced Bernard out of the office after the interview, she had turned to Mulder. He was still angry and her heart went out to him despite herself. How could he have been in the FBI so long and stayed so thin-skinned? "Mulder," she began. Before she could even continue, he had picked up a pen and thwacked it full-force into the corner.

"I don't believe it!" he had cried, his voice thin with emotion. "It sounded like every cheap crap science fiction novel-"

Scully had tried to keep her voice level but his moods were contagious. "If it's any consolation, Mulder, I believed him too-"

Mulder shook his head at her, full of unspent anger. "No, Scully-" he began. "That's no consolation at all. If you start falling for every freak that comes through the door, what good are we to anyone?!" he shouted.

Scully had flinched. This was not the first time Mulder had raised his voice, but it was the first time he had chastized her directly. She felt anger rush up in her throat, but waited a minute before speaking. Mulder was pacing the room, sadistically pleased with his tantrum.

"Mulder-" she began and stopped, feeling tears of frustration come to her eyes. She quelled them. "Why do you always act like this? I've tried and tried to understand you - to let your anger run it's course, but it seems like sometimes this is what you want-the only way you can express yourself." Mulder stopped his pacing and stared at her. "How come I'm not allowed to believe? Why do you try to protect me from your obsessions? I'm a trained FBI agent, Mulder, and I can take care of myself."

Mulder's expression softened. He fell into his remorseful ten-year-old face. He shook his head in disbelief at Scully. Even Scully couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, but they kept coming. She was sure she wasn't as angry as she sounded. "Basically Mulder, I'm asking you to relax. If you can't do that, then maybe I should go to the cafeteria for a bit while you cultivate some professional distance-"

At that Mulder had stared at her blankly a moment, and had turned on his heel and walked out of the office. The door slammed hollowly behind him.

Scully had sat down at her desk and cried.

She did remember Bernard, she thought, watching him peer out of the window, but the memory of the argument made it inconsequential. Scully felt her throat tighten with emotion. Mulder had disappeared for an hour or so and then came back and wrote up his report on Louis T. Bernard, acting as if nothing had happened. It was never mentioned again.

Even now, their disagreement was upsetting to her. She slumped hopelessly in her seat. Tied to her own dining room chair, with a madman in her home, rehashing old regrets, Scully had never felt more helpless.

The telephone rang, and Scully sat at attention, straining at her bonds, as if to get it.

Bernard's eyes followed hers over to the phone. "Don't answer it-" he warned as if she could simply free herself. The phone rang again.

"The machine-" she began inanely. Before the words were fully out of her mouth, he had stood up and taken aim at the little box on the end table. The third ring was drowned out by the shotgun blast. Shards of plastic flew across the room, and Scully winced, more out of anger than fear. There was something deeply insulting to her about having her personal effects shot up - it offended her far more than the bomb or the fact that she had been taken hostage. The phone, however, continued to ring.

Bernard circled the telephone warily. It rang again.

Slowly, he laid his rifle down next to it and sank to his knees almost reverently. He rubbed his sweaty palms down the plastique-laden vest. He looked over at Scully.

Ring.

"The bomb is real," he said directly to her.

Ring. Ring. Scully couldn't tear her eyes off of him. The sound of the telephone was sharp and jarring to her ears.

"I'll have to tell them about the bomb." He turned back to the telephone.

Ring.

'Answer it, Goddamnit!' Scully felt like shouting. She balled her hands into tight fists behind her back, and pressed her lips together hard, trying to block out the ringing. She felt a fluttery, unstable panic swell up from deep within her. She couldn't lose control now, she reminded herself and the very thought made her lungs tighten. Another scream threatened to rise up out of her. Her nails dug into her wet palms and a drop of perspiration ran down her temple. Her lips pressed together harder.

She thought of Mulder. She thought of the way he ran his hand through his hair. She thought of his ties, thought of his apartment, his basketball, his voice. Her hands, white with lack of blood, unclenched.

The phone was still ringing. Bernard was still watching it.

He reached into his lumpiest pocket and pulled out a metal box with a toggle switch. It looked terribly homemade and was crisscrossed with silver duct tape. He sat it in front of the telephone.

For some reason Scully thought of Mulder's infuriating poster. Another wave of regret swept over her, drowning out the feeling of queasy panic. She shouldn't have spoken to him like that-

Bernard picked up the reciever suddenly and snapped it to his ear. For a minute or so he said nothing.

Mulder jumped to his feet. "Who's there? Who's talking?"

Gwen waved him back down, a mildly annoyed look on her face. She plugged her other ear with a finger.

He sat down again heavily. Scully had to be there. She had to be all right.

Gwen's face was a mask of concentration. She pushed a limp strand of mousy hair out of her face. "Hello?" she ventured. "I'm Gwen. Please say something..."

Mulder suddenly felt a wave of nauseous hopelessness engulf him. Without bidding came a mental image of Scully laid out on her own autopsy table, skin bright white and plasticky under the blinding examination lights, her chest ripped open by a close range rifle blast, her eyes frozen open. He drew in breath sharply and closed his eyes against the image, concentrating on Gwen's soothing, low voice.

"Are you alone in there?" She ventured. Her unhurried manner unwound Mulder's choking panic. "Is everybody all right?"

"...Yes..." came the soft reply.

Gwen let herself sink halfway back in her chair. She flashed Mulder a relieved weak smile. Mulder felt something loosen a bit inside him.

"Yes you're alone or yes you're all right?"

There was a long pause. "Who are you?"

"I'm Gwen. Is everything okay?" Mulder drew nearer to Gwen as she spoke. He felt suddenly weak-kneed and faint but he wasn't going to pass out. He hung on to the edge of Gwen's table, steadying himself.

"Who are you?"

Mulder could hear the voice on the phone, faint and small.

Gwen's eyes darted up to Mulder's for a moment before answering.

"I'm the mediator. I'm here to help you out - to see that everything's okay-"

"FBI!" the voice on the telephone screeched suddenly. "Stinking FBI I've had just about enough-"

Gwen stood up. "No, no wait! Don't hang up! Don't hang up. Please." She stood up and began to pace with the telephone.

For a moment Mulder saw a flicker of panic in her calm eyes. "I'm not FBI."

Mulder stared at her and his jaw nearly fell open. What was going on? Gwen returned to her table and sat down again, taking a deep breath. Evidently the other party was just as shocked. "Are you there?" She asked again. "Please don't hang up. I want to talk with you - to find out what's going on."

"I don't want to talk with the FBI they want to kill me," he said. Gwen turned the volume up on her cell phone until it gave a tiny squawk of feedback as a protest. She beckoned to Mulder, who leaned over her shoulder.

"Don't worry about the FBI. It's just you and me right now. No hurry. No rush." Gwen resumed her intricate doodle. Mulder watched her carefully. She could be lying, but if she wasn't HRT or FBI, then who was this woman?

"I want to be heard..." the voice at the other end of the line said in a firm, soft voice. Mulder grabbed the pen out of Gwen's hand and wrote on her pad: Scully? She nodded.

"Is anybody with you now?"" Gwen gently prodded, absently pulling the pen back from Mulder.

"They didn't hear me-" he began. "It's too late - I told them - they didn't want to give me time-"

"Okay...okay..." Gwen tried to placate him. "We've got lots of time."

Mulder stuffed his hands into his pockets and found a piece of paper. He pulled it out and unfolded it, keeping an ear peeled for any mention of Scully.

The piece of paper was the fax from Bradley and Stephens. Rereading the names on the list, Mulder was suddenly aware they were all familiar to him. The last attack's victim had been a retired Air Force Major whose name Mulder knew of in connection with the Roswell UFO coverup, the victim before that a congressman who had proposed a bill that would cut funding to the SETI projects, the attack before that on a scientist affiliated with CSICOP, the skeptics society.

The names kept coming. An author of a mildly popular book debunking UFO abductions. Heads of right-wing think-tanks. Military personnel. A right-wing talk-show host. The thread that strung them all together came into his head so suddenly he winced.

Skeptics. Scully. His head reeled. "Gwen!" he stumbled over to her with the paper hanging loosly from his hand.

"I promise you you won't be hurt. That's why I'm here-" Gwen was explaining. She looked up instantly, alarmed by the tone in Mulder's voice, and took the paper from his hand.

"They're going to kill me but I don't care. I don't care- let them- they don't want to listen-" the voice from the phone ranted. Gwen glanced over the list and looked at Mulder, her eyes wide with curiosity. Mulder grabbed the pen out of her hand and scratched a hasty message on her pad: BELIEVE HIM!

Gwen read it and looked up at Mulder levelly. His face had become flushed and red. She nodded. "I'll listen to you," she said simply.

For a moment there was silence from the earpiece of the cellphone. Mulder leaned in closer. Gwen held her breath. It sounded like the line was dead. Their eyes met. "I want to believe," she said.

"...Yes..." The voice returned at length. Mulder patted Gwen's shoulder.

"...Yes all right maybe you will. Will you help me?" He was calmer now, and Gwen relaxed somewhat, tipping Mulder a little salute. Mulder hunched back down on his stack of Xerox paper boxes.

"Yes. But first I need to know about who you have with you-"

"I have a hostage. An FBI agent. She's here I haven't touched her."

Gwen threw her pen at Mulder to get his attention. He looked up from staring at his hands dismally and she gave him a vehement double thumbs up. 'she's Okay!' she mouthed at him and Mulder's shoulders dropped in fevered relief. He rubbed his face with his hands.

"Can I speak to her?" Gwen inquired simply. Mulder took his hands from his face and stared at her in disbelief. Who was this crazy woman? In all his training he had never heard of just asking to speak to the hostage. "Just to say Hi."

When Bernard had picked up the telephone, Scully figured he had no intention of actually speaking. Now he was kneeling on her floor, listening ardently to a voice that she could barely make out.

She guessed, with some relief, that it was one of the FBI's hostage negotiators. Knowing that Mulder probably knew what had become of her was a strange comfort and Scully strained to hear what was going on. Occasionally, he would become angry and shout the negotiator down, grabbing the toggle-switch box that was hooked to his vest with a chilling finality, but he would snap out of it and set it down again.

Scully used the opportunity of Bernard's obsession with the telephone to examine her predicament more analytically. She scanned his vest. Sagging at the seams and looking like a lead lifejacket, Scully estimated it held about ten pounds of plastique, probably C-4 or another industrial explosive. It appeared that Bernard's claim of having enough explosive to destroy her apartment building was accurate, perhaps even an understatement. It was all hooked up to the absurdly simple looking toggle box he was constantly clutching.

At the moment, however, he was holding the phone out to her. "It's for you-"

Scully was startled out of her machinations. She tried to reach for it, forgetting that her hands were tied. "I can't." It was absurd.

Bernard scrambled over to her and held the telephone to her ear. "Speak Dr. Scully..."

"Hello." It took Scully a moment to remember what to say.

"Dana? This is Gwen Gardiner. Are you all right?"

Gardiner? The name rang a bell, but not enough of one. Scully looked over to Bernard, who seemed rapt, watching her. "Yes. I'm fine."

"Great!" It was a woman's voice, calm and low. "I know you probably aren't in the position to talk, so just to tell you that we're working it out on this end. Sit tight."

"Thank you," Scully said, not really knowing what else she could say. Louis T. Bernard had not become any better smelling over time.

"Dana," Gwen began and Scully felt her grin was audible. "I'm with your partner, Fox ..."

"Oh-" Mulder! Scully knew he had to be around but somehow he seemed closer now. Bernard was staring her down so she had to be careful. She quashed a smile. It was so good to know that Mulder was nearby, thinking of her, pulling for her.

"He says Hi."

"Oh, well, Hi back." Scully felt slightly odd.

She glanced at Bernard and his toggle switch. It struck her that she had to alert them about the bomb, to tell them who he was. It also struck her that she did not want to die without Mulder knowing how much he meant to her. "Gwen?" She asked. Bernard sat at attention, ready to snap the phone away if she got out of line.

"Mmhm?"

"Tell Mulder..." She began, not knowing exactly what she was doing. "Tell Mulder that I'm sorry about that fight we had...tell him I'm really sorry."

"No problem." Gwen said after a moment.

"You're going to have to pass me back to your new friend. Take care. And by the way-"

"Yes?"

"He's not too bad looking as FBI goes. Now pass me back."

When Gwen turned to look at Mulder, he was wearing a screwy mixture of a grimace and a grin. Things were going well, so she smiled back at him. "...Are you there?" Bernard came back on.

"Tell everybody to back off- get rid of the SWAT teams..."

Gwen bit her lip. "I don't know if I can do that."

"They won't listen to me- they've got to get back - I'll make them hear..."

Gwen stood up suddenly, startling Mulder. "Wait. Look, I'll try, all right? I'll give it my best shot."

She began to pace.

"I just want the people to listen."

"Okay." she nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "But you've got to do me a favor. I'll have to hang up and talk to the SWAT team for a while - I'll try to get them to move back..."

"favor-?"

"I'll have to go away for a bit and then I'll call you and let you know what they say. When I call, please answer the phone-"

"They won't listen-" Bernard interrupted, and then felt silent a moment. "What if it's not you?"

"Then just hang up. I will have information that you will want to know. Please answer." There was a click. Gwen signed off the cell phone and looked at Mulder. Mulder looked back at her.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice slightly high. She set the phone on the table. "How is she? What's happening?"

"She's good, Fox." Gwen rubbed her hands over her face tiredly. "He's okay too. That's important."

Mulder indicated the fax he had placed in front of her. "The agents assigned to this case gave this to me before we found out about Scully."

"My God, has he killed all these people?"

Gwen reread the list of names. Mulder sat opposite her.

"No. But the thing is, they're all skeptics of one form or another. Scully-" he began and stopped for a moment, panic stealing over him. He fought it down. "Scully too, I guess. That's why it's important for you to believe in whatever he tells you."

Gwen crossed her fingers. "Let's hope Agent Scully can be tactful."

Mulder remembered all the times when Scully had tried to delicately point out where he had been too quick to judge and how often he had obstinately refused to admit she had been at least half-right. "...Yeah. She is." His voice went suddenly hoarse and he turned away from her, walking over to the wall.

Gwen stared at his back for a moment.

Opening her mouth to speak she shut it again firmly, unsure of how she should react. She thought a moment, Mulder remaining silent, she started over. "Fox," she began quietly, "She told me that she was sorry about the fight you two had."

Mulder turned around. His look was one of puzzlement. "What fight?" he asked, almost accusingly.

Gwen blinked. "Oh. I didn't ask. Sorry." She seated herself back at the desk. Mulder continued to stare at her with an unsual expression, and so she felt obliged to elaborate. "She seemed to think you'd know...."

He turned away from her again and made like he was examining the defunct copier that had been shoved in the corner by the SWAT team. His shoulders slumped imperceptably. "We don't fight," he said firmly, toying with the plastic dustcover on the old Xerox.

Gwen picked the headset up and adjusted it onto her head. Mulder sneaked a look at her to see if she was watching him. She wasn't and he noted that she had been right about the headset messing her hair.

"You're calling Burton?" Mulder felt himself ask. He was under the impression that she'd rather die than co-operate with the FBI and the SWAT team.

She clicked the headset on. "Hello? Mission Control?"

The headset crackled to life. "Gwen?" the voice came through so loud that Mulder had no trouble hearing it from across the room. Gwen pulled the earpiece a few inches away from her ear. "Gwen, do you copy?" the voice was distorted and crunchy with static.

"You're a little too loud-!" hollered Gwen, wincing.

Mulder paced the room. A fight? Scully and he had had their differences, that was sure, but he never remembered any actual arguements. Sorry?

Was there anything Scully ever needed to apologize for? If there were it would be out of character, or so he would have thought before, for her to bring it up now.

The sound quality or volume did not improve.

"Gwen? This is Burton. What's the situation?"

"Well, " she began slowly, "I spoke to Agent Scully - she's fine." She looked over to Mulder, speaking as much to him as to Burton, but he appeared to be in deep thought.. " It's going all right but I don't think he's ready to come out yet-"

"Get him near the window, all we need is a clear shot-" Burton's voice crackled with the static of impatience.

"No, listen - I need the HRT and SWAT teams to back down a little. Mr. Hostage-Taker is feeling a little fenced in."

"Okay - we'll pull a few in front, make it look like a retreat-"

Gwen rubbed her eyes. "That won't work - I think he's read too many cheap crap crime novels-"

Mulder started. He made an involuntary lurch forward as if he had been awakened suddenly. He remembered a thrown pencil, a door slamming, a long sulk in the cafeteria while pretending to read a magazine. Scully had been very angry with him. He remembered the way her face had lit up. The memory streamed back into his head like electricity, alive and sparking.

"They're the SWAT team, Gwen - we can't have them stand down. This guy has killed five people - we don't want to lose anybody else."

"He's got a bomb." Gwen said, chewing on the end of her pen.

"Say again?!"

She removed the pen from her mouth and enunciated. "I said he's got a bomb."

Mulder stared at her, truly puzzled. He had heard almost every word of conversation between Gwen and she had never let on that the situation was that serious.

He blinked. The fight. Scully had been mad at him because he had behaved badly. He was upset at having been fooled. She had tried to console him, to make him feel better and, like an idiot, he had snapped at her.

"Do you have verification on that?" demanded Burton. The clatter and noise in the background abruptly ceased.

"As much as I need."

"Does Agent Mulder concur?"

Mulder was deep in thought. Why had he been mad? Then he remembered: he had been led on a wild goose chase. One that was so good even Scully had fallen for it. The face came to him, wan and pallid, and then a name. He grabbed his forehead - Scully had been trying to signal him! Gwen looked at Mulder. He nodded excitedly.

"He agrees," she said, watching him closely. He had become wound up suddenly. "Move back the SWAT team to a secondary location-"

"No can do." Burton's voice was loud and clear. Gwen jumped to her feet.

"Yes you can do!" she cried in exasperation.

"If he pushes the button, your SWAT team has had it!"

"He won't push it, Gwen, if you convince him to give up."

In one swift motion Gwen had tugged the headset from her head and flung it across the table angrily. It skidded across the smooth surface, rebounded off of the unused bulletproof vest and flipped onto the floor.

She sat down heavily and put her head in her hands. Her mousy hair hung limply in her face. "That sucks."

Mulder came over to her. "I bet I know who this guy is."

She lifted up her head and looked at him. "If I'm right his name is Louis Bernard. He claims to be a UFO abductee, among other things. We had interviewed him a year ago."

"How do you know this?" Gwen inquired, eyes wide.

"Scully was trying to warn me: we had a fight- a misunderstanding over his interview. It was nothing. She's trying to jog my memory by apologizing. The fight we had was about him." Mulder felt his cheeks grow hot under Gwen's intense stare.

Gwen pulled her notepad over to her and picked up the pen. "Louis Bernard? UFO abductee-" She wrote these things down.

Mulder began to pace, reaming off information. "It's important that you believe him. All the people he's after are dyed in the wool skeptics. He wants recognition."

Gwen pointed her pen at him. "Yes!" she said enthusiastically. "Recognition. Nobody is listening to him. What does he want us to recognize?"

"He told us that there was a government cover-up of..." Mulder threw his hands into the air. "Everything. He wanted to write a book. Scully and I felt he was jerking us around." Mulder ran his hand through his hair nervously. "I never thought-" he paused. "I don't know, we didn't believe him but he seemed harmless."

Gwen picked up her cellphone and dialled the number. She sat on the edge of her chair. "Does she have an answering machine?"

Mulder heard it ring at Scully's end. "Yeah. It comes on after two rings." They listened. Eternities seemed to come and go in the silence between.

Gwen frowned. "Evidently not any more."

It rang a few more times. They waited. Gwen chewed on her pen. Settling down on his stack of boxes, Mulder observed the piece of black fabric in the window that the FBI had hung to conceal their movements. It fluttered listlessly in the slight breeze, sparkling with splinters of broken glass.

He wondered if he could be wrong about Louis Bernard. Even if it were him, was it useful information? Ultimately, the situation was the same as ever. Mulder recalled that in ancient cultures, to know the name of the oppressor was to have power over them. Isis had tricked Ra into revealing his true name and she stole his power from him. Shutting his eyes, Mulder let out a deep breath. If only that would help them save Scully. Louis T. Bernard. Name it and claim it.

"...Come on..." Gwen mumbled softly. As if on cue, the phone was picked up.

"Who is this-?" It was the same breathless voice at the other end. Gwen's face broke into a smile. Mulder felt the knots in his stomach loosen.

"It's Gwen. Is everything still okay?"

"Are they going to move them back-?"

The smile faded from her face. Mulder could tell she felt defeated. "They don't think that it's a good idea. I'll try again later-"

"Not later! Now!" the quiet voice became more intense, trembling with urgency. "They don't believe me they won't listen it's too late too late-"

Gwen jumped to her feet in a panic, sending her chair flying backwards, her eyes wild. Mulder rose quickly. "No! -No! Listen to me-they WILL listen- they WILL believe you-" she cried loudly.

Bernard's voice remained tense but lost its volume. "I tried and tried and nothing's happened-"

Gwen made a concerted effort to moderate the tone of her voice. "The truth is a hard thing for people to understand. Be kind. Give them time-"

"They've had time..."

"Give yourself time too. Don't rush things. You're still in control..."

There was a pause. "I'm tired of it all...so tired-"

Mulder realized that he himself did not feel terribly energetic and that under the thin metallic adrenaline buzz, he was exhausted.

"I understand," Gwen said supportively. "Can I get you something to eat?"

"No-"

"A sandwich? Ham and cheese? Roast beef? PBJ...? Come on, you must be starved," she said genially, like they had been old friends. He seemed to hesitate.

"Ham and cheese but you bring it."

Gwen fell silent a moment Mulder stared at her, wondering what she would do. By now it was clear to him that she wasn't following FBI procedure, and Bernard's answer seemed to throw her. Her mouth bent into a crooked, awkward, smile.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You bring it," he said firmly.

"But-"

"You bring it you bring it you bring it or that's it for everybody!" the voice at the other end of the phone was hysterical, hollering like a wild animal.

Gwen's eyes suddenly went wide as if she had been struck. "Wait!" she screamed. The line abruptly went dead.

Mulder jumped to his feet, anticipating the bomb blast that would wink out his life. Gwen scrambled towards the broken window.

The next seconds in Mulder's life existed in a dream-like limbo. Details magnified themselves like the enlarged photographs that came from the FBI laboratory. The glass beneath his feet splintering and crunching. Gwen's green dress flowing past him. His arms reaching and reaching and reaching.

He caught her shoulders and jerked her away from the window.

The black cloth hanging in the window fluttered aside teasingly enough for them to see Scully's telephone smashing through her window. It plummeted to earth without a moment's hesistation and shattered like glass on the street below.

They stared out of their broken window in amazement at the newly broken window across the street, Mulder still clutching Gwen's shoulders. A minute passed. The wind whispered through the remaining bits of broken glass in the window.

"Damn." said Mulder finally. "She liked that phone." He felt her shoulders slump suddenly like she was about to pass out and he steadyed her. She leaned against him a moment. "Are you going to be okay?" he inquired, his own knees feeling jellyish.

She nodded and straightened up. "Yeah."

Mulder unclenched his hands and she dazedly wandered back to her desk, switching her cell phone off. A loud crackling whistle came from under the table. They stared at one another numbly, unable to place the sound. A flash of recognition spread over Mulder's face and he bent down and picked up the FBI's headset that lay ignored on the floor. He held it out to her, saying nothing.

She did not move to take it from him. "He's calling to tell me that Bernard has thrown the phone out the window."

Finally she reached over and took the proffered headset and affixed it to her head. The crackling sound was Burton in a frenzy. "Gwen!" he cried, "He's thrown the phone out the window! What's going on?!"

"Things are still under control. Our man is a little upset over the SWAT teams-"

"He's violent, Gwen! We can't let this situation progress any further - our presence needs to be felt! I'm not having them stand down!"

Mulder saw that she was trembling and near tears. He wanted to help her but didn't know how. "I know..." she said softly, hanging her head.

"Say again?" Burton's voice was loud, an insult to their quiet haven.

Mulder put his hand on Gwen's shoulder. She looked at him a moment, tilting her head, her expression changing. She spoke up, a new determination lighting her eyes. "Burton, call the nearest restaurant. I'm going to need four ham and cheese sandwiches A.S.A.P. - call when they're ready."

Not waiting for a response, she snapped the headset from her head and threw it back down on the table. Mulder stared at her, perplexed.

Scully existed in a numb state of shock.

When Bernard had demanded that the SWAT team be moved back, she knew what the answer would be. Her heart sank. If he had asked her, she could have recited the procedure as well as any FBI agent. Never retreat. Suddenly, she knew what it was like to be on the other side.

With every moment that passed Bernard came closer to formulating his final thesis. He passed his toggle switch from hand to hand nervously now, like a hot potato. Scully's heart stalled when she saw him hang up the phone. They needed to keep him talking. Take up his attention. Make him not care about the box. But he had hung up without a word and gone into the hall with his semi-automatic and fired off a few rounds, paint and plaster flying. What scared her was that he barely noticed her at all. He'd mumble to himself softly, and examine his box, pacing back and forth in front of her like she was just another armchair.

That was about when she realized the FBI was not calling back.

Then she felt very alone. Her eyes rimmed slightly with water. Her shoulders ached. Where was Mulder? She wanted to hear one of his sarcastic retorts, to see the boyish curve of a grin he couldn't suppress. Something about Mulder always made her put things in perspective. With a brief blink the looming tears were gone.

"...They'll listen, oh yes now they'll hear me..." muttered Bernard walking by her.

She wanted to speak, but held her silence instead. What with him hating the FBI, she didn't want to risk upsetting him.

It was hard though, and instead Scully sat as still as she had when she was a little girl in church. The telephone rang and Bernard ran to it. Scully released a tight breath. She knew the FBI would try to call back. He stared the phone doubtfully and with each ring, she despised the soft obsequious warble more and more. Telephones ringing had always annoyed her and Mulder had given her a phone company brochure promising her that this particular model had least jarring ring of them all. They had obviously never thought of situations where one might be tied up watching somebody watch a phone ring for hours on end.

When Bernard finally pounced on the phone and answered it, Scully felt like a great weight had lifted from her. But he had barely begun speaking to the negotiator when he became agitated, and began to shout. Soon he was pacing and panting and hollering, every action coated in a layer of perspiration. She could hear the voice at the other end, calmly pleading for reason as Bernard began to knock her furniture around.

Then, his face red and swollen, he grabbed the phone cord in his hand. With a swift jerk he snapped the cord from the wall. Scully sat upright, her hands bound tightly behind her back, and her voice rose up of its own accord, sprialling out of her tight throat.

"Hey!" she cried. her anger overwhelming her. "Don't-!"

"They won't listen and their time is up!"

With a fluid movement, his puffy face bloating with the effort, Bernard heaved her phone past the white curtains and through the window.

"Do you have a plan?" Mulder asked Gwen at length.

"Not much of one." her voice was morose. She pushed hair out of her face and reached for the bullet-proof vest that had lain ignored on her table all morning. Mulder caught her arm.

"You're going?" he demanded. "You're going to Bernard?"

She stared at him blankly and he felt frustration shimmer off of her like waves of heat. She was suddenly angry. "What else can I do?!"

Mulder threw his hands up into the air. "Well, you'll be killed-"

"It's a test-"

"How do you know?" he shot back at her.

She snatched the vest off of the table and struggled into it. "What would you suggest?" She zipped up the vest decisively.

Mulder dropped his head for a moment. He tried to clear his mind. What was the FBI mantra? Focus on the situation. Focus. Scully has been taken hostage. This woman was trying to save her.

He had insisted on the interview with Bernard. He wouldn't allow Scully to die at the hands of some UFO lunatic. She was too good.

"I'm going with you." Mulder felt the words rise up from deep within and they felt good to him. Gwen stared at him. "She's my partner - I got her into this - I should be there." He exhaled and realized that this is what he had wanted to say all along.

Her smile was apologetic and for a minute she said nothing. "This isn't your fault, Fox. I don't think you should come along."

"You'll need me. Bernard thinks I'm his Number One Fan-" he grinned when he saw her confused expression. "I told him I wanted an autographed copy of his book."

The familiar crackling sounded again from the headset. Gwen hesitated, her face caught between an expression of dismay and amusement. Mulder saw his chance. "I think I could help."

Gwen shrugged and rubbed her now-furrowed brow. "Okay. I don't have time to argue with you. You know the risks." She picked up the headset, holding it to her ear. "Sandwiches?"

Burton's voice boomed through the earpiece. "We got 'em. What's the plan-?"

Mulder stared at Gwen. She gave him a weak smile. "We'll be right down," she said, cutting Burton off and gently laying the headset down on the table. Without another word, she turned and left the room. For a moment Mulder was motionless, observing the black curtain undulating softly in the breeze. Then he too was gone.

Mulder went after her into the hall, following her ringing footfalls down the corridor. She was moving fast, he thought, his only glimpse of her a flutter of green fabric as the door to the stairwell was closing behind. Now he felt better, he thought as they bounded down the stairs. His head was clear. He was going to get Scully.

He caught up with Gwen as she swung open the door to the main lobby. There the FBI and SWAT teams had re-established their home base, their walkie-talkies and wires now snaking across the front reception area. He hung a step behind Gwen as she strode boldly over the cables and past the men. They all stepped away from her, letting her pass, saying nothing, watching everything.

Burton sat on the edge of the reception desk, a large brown paper bag perched primly in front of him. He remembered to smile his paternal smile when he saw Gwen and held out the bag to her. "Four ham and cheese from Artie's Sandwich Shop-"

Gwen took the bag from him and kept going, like an olympic sandwich relay. "Great. Thanks."

She made a bee-line for the front door, moving through the FBI men in the flak jackets, Mulder in her slipstream. He had no idea when she was going to do, but he knew that that was part of the bargain. It was her show and he was only allowed observer status.

When she went through the main door of the building out onto the sidewalk and kept going, Mulder knew what she was up to. He could feel the blood flow faster in his veins. Burton stumbled after them, incredulous.

"What's the plan, Gwen?" he called. "What are we doing?"

Gwen marched past the barricades, past the puzzled expressions of the SWAT team, out onto the deserted street. The men with the guns let her past without comment or resistance. In fact, she seemed not to notice them, her gaze unwaveringly focussed on the door to the building across from them. Once past the barricades, Mulder, following her silent cue, slowed to a careful walk. He noticed Scully's telephone lying shattered on the ground on the other side of the street, a disjointed reminder that all was not well.

"Gwen! Mulder! Get back-!" Burton jogged after them, but hesitated at the barricade. "It's not secure!"

Nothing changed in Gwen's expression and so Mulder ignored him, continuing to walk steadily toward their goal. He suddenly felt a rush of loyalty to Gwen. This was the plan. They were bringing sandwiches to Bernard.

Burton's face shook with indignance that neither of them saw. "Get out of the street - that's an order!" he cried to their backs as slowly their distance from him widened.

Gwen's expression did not change nor did she relent. Mulder stayed to her right, a pace behind, matching her step by step. He saw the white line drawn down the middle of the street pass without ceremony beneath their feet, a minor victory. Burton continued his officious shouting. "Gwen, I want you off this assignment! Turn back now!" Burton hopped over the sawhorse barricade and onto the empty street. His urgent tone made Mulder want to look behind him, but suddenly reminded of Lot's wife, he stared straight ahead.

In a lightning flash bullets came zinging all around them, spraying up stinging chips of concrete, whizzing by their ears. Gwen and Mulder froze on the spot, in mid-step, screwing their eyes tightly shut. They could feel a scuffle of action somewhere behind them, and in a second, when the hail of bullets ceased, all was silent. Mulder felt blood freeze in his veins like rubbing alcohol. Gwen's skin changed several colours before she could open her mouth to speak, still staring straight ahead. He couldn't see her face, but her ears had gone spotty red with panic.

"Fox?" her voice was tremulous, and he realized that she was not sure he would be there to answer.

"Call me Mulder." He managed to croak.

She did not look behind her but tipped her head a little lower, a sly nod, swallowed, and recommenced her careful walk.

Whatever had happened with the gunshots had forced the SWAT team to take cover and Mulder and Gwen continued their deliberate journey unhindered. They looked nowhere but the door to Scully's lobby. Mulder had seen it a hundred times before, but now he saw every detail, every scuff mark, every dried peeling chip of paint. Their destination. They ducked inside cautiously, unsure of what they'd find. As Gwen politely pulled the door shut behind them, Mulder saw the SWAT team dragging one of their injured men back behind the barricades, the street a bloody streak behind him.

She followed his gaze and raised her eyebrows but said nothing. They moved carefully into the building. All was quiet as they progressed towards the stairs. Mulder stumbled over a plaster chip, kicking it with his foot. It ricocheted off of the baseboards along the corridor noisily. Looking down he saw more plaster fragments littering the carpet outside the stairwell and indicated them to Gwen with his foot.

She nodded and pointed silently to the bullet-holed walls in the stairwell as she mounted the strairs.

Bernard definitely had a lot of ammunition to waste, thought Mulder and he could not help shuddering a little. He certainly came prepared to face the FBI. As they padded softly up the stairway, Mulder instinctively swung his hand around his waist, reaching for his gun. Gwen caught him doing so out of the corner of her eye and came to a sudden halt. She caught his hand. "No!" she whispered sharply. "What did you bring that for?!"

Mulder didn't appreciate her tone of voice.

"I'm an FBI agent - it's required equipment!" he snapped back in a hoarse stage whisper.

Annoyance flashed across Gwen's face. She swatted his hand away and carefully drew his gun out of his holster herself, holding it pinched between her thumb and index fingers, a disgusted look on her face like she were disposing of somebody else's used kleenex.

"Who's there?!" It was the voice from the phone, only this time louder, live, ringing off of the stairwell walls. An automatic rifle poked out of the entrance to the third floor and trained itself on them. A head appeared behind the gun, so soaked in perspiration that it looked to Gwen like somebody had emptied a bucket of water on his head.

"It's him," she thought she heard Mulder breathe from behind her, but he stood so perfectly still that she though she might have only imagined his speaking.

It made no difference whether he spoke or not because when Gwen glanced over at Mulder, he was like a hunting hound, alert, every hair pointed in the direction of what was most assuredly Louis T. Bernard.

"Who are you?!" Bernard demanded, the barrel of his gun shifting from Mulder to Gwen to Mulder again. Gwen took a gentle step forward, offering forth Mulder's gun.

"I'm Gwen," she said with a grave smile. "and this is Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI - you've met him before, I think."

The rifle pointed at Mulder's face. "Why is he here?" Bernard asked from behind his gun.

"He wanted to come along." Gwen said simply. Her honesty frightened Mulder. She held out his gun again. "This is his gun."

Bernard did not move. "I'm Louis T. Bernard."

Gwen moved very slowly and deliberately towards him and put Mulder's gun on the floor. She backed away and held up the brown paper bag. "I've got four sandwiches for us in this bag and I'm starved. Can we eat, Louis?"

Louis leaned over and picked up Mulder's gun, examining it. He indicated Scully's apartment with his rifle. "All right. All right for now."

Mulder waited impatiently for Gwen to step into Scully's doorway, and followed her, practically stepping on her heels, into the apartment. What Mulder saw was unreal. Scully's normally well-ordered abode looked like a bomb had already gone off. Tables were overturned, bric-a-brac crushed underfoot, the window smashed and spent rounds of ammunition lay scattered over her sofa carelessly. In this disorganized state, anything that Mulder recognized of Scully's looked wrong, out of place, lying out of its carefully-ordered universe.

And amid it all, like the plastic bride on a wedding cake centerpiece, sat Scully, pale and mussed, lashed unforgivingly to a rigid dining chair with electrical tape. She could not restrain herself when she laid eyes on Mulder and Gwen.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly. Colour flowed back into her cheeks.

Mulder knew he was helpless to assist her, but he grinned at her rakishly and dropped her a little nod. Scully's eyes grew wide.

Behind him Louis T. Bernard wound up an incredible swing and let loose, bringing the butt of Mulder's gun down on the back of Mulder's head with every advantage of physics and leverage. The next instant Mulder lay sprawled across the carpet, having taken one of the last things standing, a reading lamp, with him. Gwen whirled around, brown bag in hand, looking like a dismayed picnicker. "Louis!" She cried. "What did you do that for?"

Louis picked the roll of tape up from the floor and tossed it to Gwen, who caught it, her face draining of colour. He pointed Mulder's gun at her. "Tie him to the chair too."

"I'm not here to do this-" Gwen mumbled, grabbing another of Scully's dining table chairs and pulling it towards the living room. Mulder lay on the ground, semi-concious and moaning, and she tried to lump him onto the chair. He resisted a little but she finally knelt behind him, taping his hands behind his back, he and Scully side by side like FBI salt and pepper shakers. "I thought you wanted to talk with me."

Bernard kept his aim with Mulder's gun. "It's too late."

Gwen stood up and stared at Bernard.

"Okay-" she began. "Let's talk about this-" Bernard raised the toggle box at her threateningly. "No! I've had enough-"

Gwen held her ground, and suddenly she was angry. "So have I."

He backed away from her. "I have the tools, I have the tools and I WILL use them..."

"To do WHAT?" Gwen demanded. Mulder was dimly aware of his hands going prickly with numbness. "What? Blow us all up-? Destroy the building?"

"You won't listen you won't listen it's too late-"

Scully noticed a dark wet spot spread on Bernard's pants. She wrinkled her nose.

Gwen shook her head. "We can't listen if you kill us! What the hell do you want? You got me here, you've got two FBI's tied up, what the hell do you want?!"

Gwen started to walk toward Louis, and Mulder was groggily aware that the man with the bomb was about to flick the switch. Urine smell filled the room.

"We want to help but all you do is threaten us! We want to listen, that's why we came-" Gwen said in a reconciliatory tone. "Don't you want to tell us your side of the story?"

Bernard hesitated, a millisecond of doubt flickering in his eyes. He shifted from foot to foot.

Gwen saw her chance. "If you hit that switch no one will ever hear you, Louis."

Gwen reached his side and lightly touched Bernard's arm. "Come on, Louis." She looked to Mulder and Scully for support. Scully found herself nodding understandingly. In a way she felt embarrassed on his behalf.

"What about your book?" Mulder mumbled groggily. "I was waiting for your book."

Bernard looked almost excited. "My book-" he began.

"Take off the vest, Louis..." Gwen smiled at him. "Let's all have a sandwich."

Bernard's face fell. "Then they'll put me in prison."

"Yes..." Gwen answered after a minute. "But you can write your book in prison." she suggested quickly. Louis thought about this a moment. Scully hoped against hope that he would remove the bomb that was strapped to his body. "I can see to it that you get a word processor in jail."

Mulder looked up through his haze. She was definitely not FBI.

"Take off the vest, Louis. We can have a bite to eat and you can tell us about your book." Gwen's tone was amicable.

Louis hesitated, different intentions playing across his face. "What about them?" he asked Mulder, pointing out the smashed-out window to the barricaded street.

Mulder shrugged weakly. "They won't mind. They get paid by the hour."

Bernard stared at them all suspiciously.

Gwen casually turned and went to get the bag of sandwiches she had left by Mulder's chair like a busy hostess. She opened the bag and inhaled. "Mmm. Black Forest ham, Louis. Let's eat."

Scully realized that she was ravenous despite everything. Indeed, the smell of fresh bread and cheese wafted over to her, erasing the smell of urine and sweat from her nostrils. The scent of sandwiches in a paper bag brought Scully back to a happier time with school lunches and Oreo cookies. She shut her eyes.

"Smells great!" Scully enthused, hardly aware at all that she had spoken aloud.

Louis T. Bernard slowly shrugged out of his heavy vest, emerging from its weight as if it were a cocoon. A silence fell over the room. Louis clung to his vest and the toggle box like a security blanket and pacifier.

"Okay," he said finally. "but I keep the vest I'm still in control-"

Gwen nodded, and handed the bag to Bernard. He reached in and withdrew a promising looking sandwich. He handed the bag back to her and she chose her own. "Can I untie them?" she asked, indicating Mulder and Scully.

Bernard nodded, his mouth already full. "I still have the bomb."

Gwen knelt next to Scully and worked at her tape. Scully smiled weakly at her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she remembered Gwen's face from somewhere. "Hi." Scully held still while Gwen freed her hands.

"You hungry Dana?" Gwen grinned. Scully nodded, her feet freed. Gwen passed her the bag, and went to Mulder's side. "Help yourself."

Mulder looked like had just awoken. "Did you have to tape me so tight? I can't feel my hands..."

"How's your head?" Gwen asked, ripping his tape off.

Mulder shrugged. "It's just sore."

Scully passed him the paper bag. "It's the last one, sorry." she managed a weak relieved smile.

"You and your partner make a great couple, you know that?" Gwen smiled. Mulder said nothing, but turned a degree pinker. Scully acted absorbed in her sandwich.

"They're trying to kill me." Bernard said matter-of-factly around a mouthful of ham and cheese.

"They don't want me to tell my story they don't want me alive-"

"Who doesn't want you alive?" Scully inquired. Bernard stared at her as if he had forgotten she could speak.

"The people who abducted me - the ones that took me."

Gwen folded her arms and sat down on Scully's sofa slowly, watching Bernard as if he were a fascinating television program.

"Who took you?" Mulder asked, wincing at the sound of his own loud voice.

Bernard moved to go to Mulder, but as he was about to pass in front of the window, Gwen jumped to her feet.

"Not in front of the window!" she cried suddenly. "Walk around. The snipers..."

Bernard walked behind the sofa to get to Scully and Mulder. "They wanted me to participate-" he breathed.

"In the tests?" Scully asked. He shook his head.

"No no no-" Bernard began. "In the abductions."

Mulder and Scully glanced at one another. Mulder's voice belied his excited incredulity. "The abductions? How come you didn't tell us that before?"

"Everbody's involved, everybody. I can't be sure - I had my list and I was making sure you weren't them, weren't involved." He turned to Gwen. "They'll find me in prison and get me there..."

Gwen rubbed her forehead thoughtfully. "I could probably arrange for you to be put under protective custody..."

Bernard nodded vehemently. "I just need time to write my book - to get the story out, make them listen."

Mulder and Scully glanced at one another. Suddenly their desire to bring Bernard to justice had been put on hold. Gwen looked around the room, muttering to herself, lost in thought.

"Look, get me a phone. I'll call those guys across the street and see what I can do..." Scully nodded and pointed at the briefcase that lay in the haphazardly in the doorway.

"My cell phone's in there..." She looked at Bernard. He nodded to her.

Mulder sat down slowly on the arm of Scully's sofa next to Louis. "Is the government involved in the abductions, Louis? Is that why you killed those people, why you wouldn't talk to the FBI?"

Louis nodded, polishing off his sandwich. "Everybody's involved -the FBI, the CIA, the Army - I wasn't supposed to get away from them I had to get them before they got me-"

"Do you think that Agent Scully is a threat?" Mulder asked quickly, trying to conceal his incredulity.

Bernard looked at Scully who was over at her briefcase. She looked at him, and Mulder saw her hands trembling a little. "She-" He stopped. "I don't know."

Scully looked down. Now that Bernard was less of an immediate threat, she was overcome with a numbing awareness of how close she might have come to dying. When she lifted up her head, Mulder's eyes met hers and she knew that he could sense it too.

Gwen walked a distance away, dialled her phone and plugged her other ear. The phone barely rang once at the other end before Burton, his voice high and wiry, answered.

"Gardiner?! Where are you?" He tried to sound authoritative but the only sound escaping was an annoyed whine.

Gwen felt her head start to throb again. "I'm across the street - everybody's fine. We're negotiating."

"What's he want? Get him to surrender."

"Well, the problem is he's got a really huge bomb-" she looked over at Bernard, who was sitting with Mulder, the vest lumpily folded in his lap. "strapped to his body," she lied.

Bernard turned to Mulder. "I wanted to make sure that she knew that they were coming..." he said quietly.

Mulder felt his blood freeze dead in his veins. "She? Scully? What are you saying?"

There was a pause from Burton and the phone line fell silent as he took account of the situation. "Can you tell how big the bomb is?" He said finally. Gwen covered the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand and turned to Louis.

"Is that a plastique bomb?" she whispered.

Louis nodded gravely. "C-4. It's mine I made it myself."

Gwen removed her hand. "It's C-4 and there's a lot of it."

"Christ. Stand by, Gwen - can you stand by?" Burton sounded impressed.

Mulder grabbed Louis' arm, frantic and impatient. "Louis - Louis, listen to me. What are you saying?"

Louis turned to Scully, who squirmed uncomfortably under his hard gaze. Even though the immediate threat was gone, she was more worried now than she had been before.

"There are many of us," he said after a moment, and a chill went down Scully's spine. " I'm not the first, there have been many - there will be more - I can't, I can't tell who-"

"Who WHAT?!" Mulder demanded loudly, as if Bernard were hard of hearing.

Burton came back on the line. "Gwen!" he demanded. "What's he want? Is he willing to negotiate?"

Gwen privately rolled her eyes. "That's what I've been doing. He's reluctant....but he wants a word processor."

There was silence from the other end of the phone line and then, "A word processor?" Burton seemed dazed by the simplicity of it all. "We can't give in to him, Gwen."

"Look," Bernard said. To Mulder, for a moment he looked focussed. "I - I have been trying to find who's causing all the abductions - I have been trying to make sure that they don't get away with it. I can't tell anymore...they've ruined my mind with their tests-"

"The aliens? Who's testing you?" Scully surprised herself. In her own ears her voice sounded weak and worried.

Louis frowned at Scully and shrugged. "You killed a military man yesterday, an Air Force major - are the military involved?" Mulder demanded. "What about the other people you killed? What about the people you named on the list?"

Scully blinked. "A list?"

Louis nodded at Mulder. "You found the list - I left it behind on purpose. I wanted you to find me first before they did because they will they will and I want my revenge."

Gwen paced the room with Scully's cell phone growing hot in her hand.

"Get him to surrender." Burton commanded.

"We're not Toys R Us."

"It's not like it's coming out of your salary, Burton!" Gwen said angrily, standing up. She took the conversation to another part of the room.

"He's killed three men, Gardiner, and the American taxpayer does not want us buying this son of a bitch gifts, do you understand me?"

Scully knelt in front of Bernard. "Louis," she began quietly. "We need to know why you're doing this. We're going to help you."

Louis closed his eyes. With his lumpy vest off Scully realized he was only a withered shell of a man. "It's so hard-so hard..." he began quietly.

"Why Scully?" Mulder asked again.

"She didn't believe me - everybody involved pretends they pretend to hide from the truth but they create it they create the lies they are the ones-"

Bernard's voice rose with newfound energy. "They ARE they ARE they ARE-"

"The American taxpayer does not want this entire street wiped off the map, okay? Can you get me a word processor for the man so we can all go home?" demanded Gwen.

There was a moment's silence from Burton's end. "You couldn't just get him to stand near the window-?" he said finally, a weariness seeping into his voice.

Gwen yanked the phone away from her ear in frustration and stared at the small black receiver in disbelief. She jabbed her middle finger upwards several times in the direction of the window, while Burton called her name tinnily.

"You thought Scully was involved in the cover-up?" Mulder couldn't hide his incredulity.

Bernard took Scully's hand in his. "I know you aren't one," he said to her. "because you listened but I didn't know I wasn't sure. But I knew you were FBI and I knew that if I took you they would come and I could make them pay for everything-" he let go of her hand and caressed the sweat-soaked hunting vest in his lap. Scully felt a shiver rattle up her back.

"You think the FBI are involved?" she felt herself ask.

Bernard's hands tightened on the vest in his lap, his fingers wrapping around the toggle box protectively. He made no reply.

Mulder leaned forward. "The FBI?"

"Gwen?! Do you copy? Gwen-?" Burton was shouting when Gwen had calmed down enough to pick the telephone back up.

"You're a swine," she said simply. There was silence.

"Okay." Burton said after a moment.

Gwen came to a dead halt in the middle of her measured pacing. "Okay?"

"You can have the goddamned machine."

"Thanks," she said acidly. "I know that it must kill you."

"Tell him he can have the word processor and get him outside." Burton snapped. "But you've got no more than fifteen minutes."

Gwen ground her teeth together. "Don't threaten me, Burton. I'm not your hostage."

"I'm putting a full account of your behaviour in my report, Gardiner-"

"I'll put a full account of yours in mine." she spat, tearing the receiver away from her ear. "I'll call back when we're coming out," she said in the general direction of the telephone and signed off. Bernard looked from Mulder to Scully, who wore identical expressions of amazement. "The FBI are involved."

Scully sat back on her heels and blinked, her brain wheeling through a thousand possiblities. Mulder shook his head in disbelief.

"Who, Louis?" his voice was taut and excited. "Can you name names?"

Louis shook his head mournfully. "No no I can't remember...."

Mulder released an exasperated breath. Gwen rubbed at her face tiredly as she approached the group. "Okay," she began, sitting down at the edge of the sofa. "I've done what I can. They'll give you a word processor to finish your book with if you'll release your hostages and surrender quietly."

Louis looked down at his vest. "And if I don't want to?"

Gwen sighed. The idea of getting Burton to cooperate any further left a bad taste in her mouth. "They're getting a little fed up out there, Louis. I'm worried that they'll try to storm the building-" Bernard shot to his feet angrily. "Let them-let them! I've got the bomb and I didn't make it for nothing!"

Mulder and Scully stood up as well. Scully moved to Bernard's side. "They're trying to kill you, Louis - don't do their work for them."

Mulder nodded in agreement. "That's it Louis, they want to see you snap."

Louis sat back down again, his face haggard. "I don't have a choice do I? I killed those people to make it safer now I have to go to jail..."

Nobody replied. Reaching over, Gwen patted his shoulder. "I shouldn't have done this - I shouldn't have hurt anyone but I thought it would help. I used the tools wrongly and they'll make me pay." He looked up at Gwen. "I deserve to die."

She shook her head at him. "Nobody deserves to die, no matter what they've done, Louis. That's the point. That's why you've got to go to jail."

Gwen said, her voice compassionate. "If you think somebody's going to try to kill you, I can arrange for you to be held in protective custody, but it's not fun. I recommend that you weigh your options."

Mulder took out a pen and scribbled something down on a dog-eared business card. "Okay, Louis, here's the card of a good laywer and this is Scully's and my extension number at the FBI on the back We want to know more about your story, maybe even help with your book-" Scully looked at him. Mulder shrugged and continued. "-We'll help you."

Louis accepted the card and burst into tears.

He sobbed loudly, the tears dripping off of his chin and splattering onto the plastique-laden vest in his lap below. "I tried, I tried SO hard..." he sobbed. "I'm so sorry...." The vest slid off his lap and onto the floor unheeded. Gwen reached down and picked it up carefully.

Scully felt a lump rise in her throat and when she looked over at Mulder who looked similarly affected. She could not tell if it was relief or sympathy.

Gwen took the vest over to the dining table and laid it down gently. Tears had come to her eyes but she blinked them away. Picking up Scully's cell phone, she dialled Burton. "Gwen?!" he shouted at her.

"It's over," she said simply, wiping at her eyes.

"Get him outside, Gwen."

"I will. Just give us some time to come down."

Another exasperated pause from Burton, then "You'll all be debriefed when you get out, just come out now-"

"Also," Gwen interrupted. "Also, we need to place him protective custody. As well as the word processor."

"Gwen." Burton sounded disappointed. "What for?"

"People will try to kill him."

Burton laughed. "Who?"

Gwen grabbed her forehead. How difficult did everything have to be? "Protective custody and a word processor, okay Burton? Agree and you're the hero of the day."

Again he laughed. "Fine, Gwen, fine. Where's the bomb?"

"I've got it." She hoped he understood the tone of her voice.

"Don't touch it. Leave it where it is and come out."

"We'll be out in a few minutes." Gwen said and hung up. She brushed her hair out of her face and returned to the others, who were sitting in a tight circle around Scully's sofa. Bernard had stopped crying and was sitting quietly.

"Okay," she said to them. "it's all over. I told them that we'd be out in a few minutes. Is that okay with you, Louis?"

Louis nodded tiredly. "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Sure-" Scully automatically went to her kitchen and pulled four glasses out of the cupboard, filling them with some cranberry juice. She brought them back out to them all. Mulder hadn't realized how dry his mouth had become and gulped his down.

Gwen turned to Scully, glass of juice in her hand. "I told agent Mulder that you were sorry about that fight you had, " she grinned. "but he didn't remember it. He told me you didn't fight."

Scully turned to Mulder, a half-smile of amazement on her lips. "We don't?"

Mulder had turned beet-red and even Louis was staring at him. "Well, I just want you to know, Scully..." he looked at Gwen and Louis. Gwen went over to the sofa and tried to fix the reading lamp that Mulder had landed on. Louis wandered the apartment in a daze. Mulder waited until they had gone. "That nothing you've ever said -about me, about how I act, has been wrong."

Scully looked down. "Well Mulder, sometimes I can be a little hard on you."

Mulder squeezed her arm. "I love it, though." he grinned.

"Is all well with the world now?" Gwen asked impishly from over by the dining table. Louis smiled weakly and moved to the window. The curtain fluttered aside and he caught a glimpse of the phalanx of police, SWAT teams and FBI assembled below.

Swiftly, silently, a single bullet launched from one of the myriad guns on the street whizzed through the lace curtains and hit Louis full-force above his right eyebrow. It travelled through his head, parted his damp hair and flew into Scully's sofa. Bernard dropped to the ground like a lead weight.

Gwen ran to Louis' side. "Louis! Louis!" she cried. Mulder and Scully flew over to them, Scully expertly elbowing Gwen out of the way. Mulder stood over them, his face twisted with disgust. There was no ceremony. Bernard was still.

"I'm a doctor-" Scully said automatically, turning Louis on his side. There was a wet, gaping, wound in the back of his head. Louis' eyes had frozen over, a dark red hole over an eyebrow arched in what looked like surprise. Scully gingerly lay him on his side and stared at the floor, wanting to cry but the tears resisted her.

"They got him." Again Mulder felt his stomach twist in an angry knot.

"What?" Gwen said quietly in disbelief. Nobody answered her. "I don't believe it," she said slowly, with no conviction at all. She rose to her feet.

To Mulder it looked like every inch of Gwen's hair was about to stand on end.

Scully stood as well, her eyes never leaving the spot on the floor. She realized she was dizzy and nauseous. Mulder slipped an arm around her shoulders, his face grim, and she let herself lean against him.

"I don't believe it," Gwen said again, and to Mulder it sounded like she was trying to convince herself. She looked to them both for an answer. Nobody said anything. Louis T. Bernard bled like an overripe fruit on the carpet. Scully closed her eyes.

Slowly Gwen moved to the doorway as if in a dream. She stepped over broken and upended furniture with a sleepwalker's grace, picking up speed as she went. By the time she reached the door she was striding and Mulder thought he heard her mutter Burton's name as she stormed out into the hall. A good distance away, out on the street, pressing eagerly aginst the straining wooden barricades, the public and the press watched the tiny mite-like figures of the SWAT team skitter about, oblivious to the danger they might be in. The flurry of activity all of a sudden signalled the press that the siege was over, and reporters and journalists hastily improvised their monologues in front of cameras or into cellphones.

In a moment Gwen blasted out of the apartment building, the doors slamming open wide.

She made an angry beeline across the empty street to the station that Burton and his sharp shooters had made. Television crews squinted their zoom lenses on the scene and the crowd leaned in eagerly. "BURTON!" Gwen bellowed at the top of her lungs, coming at him with her arms extended in front of her. She shoved him in the chest mightily and he fell back against his armoured men like a giant turtle.

"Gwen-!" He began, feigning surprise.

Behind him the armoured men were slapping each other's backs.

"Is this some kind of joke?!" she hollered.

Burton's men helped him to stand. "Now, Gwen-" he started placatingly.

She wouldn't hear him. "He surrendered, you idiot! We got him! Everything was all right-!"

Across the street, Mulder and Scully were being escorted from the building by men in jackets that had FBI printed on them. They caught Scully up in a wool blanket and dragged her over to an ambulance that had just arrived. Mulder shrugged off the offer of a blanket and slowly approached the HRT's enclave. Burton was trying to quiet Gwen, who was irate, swinging hands this way and that. "Don't worry Gwen, you're a pro. You did a great job-"

"You shot a man when there was absolutely no danger! What is wrong with you?!" she shouted him down. His patronizing comments did nothing to make her feel better. Angry tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away.

"There's ALWAYS a danger," Burton tried again, trying to stand between Gwen and the line of the press's zoom lenses. "we couldn't risk losing agents Mulder and Scully and you-"

"Shut up!" she cried, shoving him again.

"What the hell do you PAY me for, exactly? Why am I working so hard to negotiate with someone that ultimately you'll murder?!" she spat angrily. Mulder joined them, but hung back a few feet. For such an easy-going person, Gwen's rage was awe-inspiring.

"You're the best, Gwen, we NEED you-"

Burton tried to wrap his arm around Gwen amicably, although Mulder saw him trying to draw her out of the range of the cameras.

She shook him off, much to Mulder's secret delight. "For what?!"

Burton looked like he wanted dearly to take a swing at her. He didn't. "Listen-" he began and he suddenly stopped making an effort to seem paternal.

Scully wandered over from the ambulance with a styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand. She joined Mulder.

"What's going on?" she asked him under her breath, even though it was all to easy to read Gwen's body lanaguage. Mulder said nothing and indicated the arguers with a point and a slight smile.

"If you want we can double the pay for this job. It was a tough one." Burton acquiesced. About to cut him off impatiently, Gwen stared at him in amazement.

"What?" she asked softly. Burton nodded and took her arm to pull her away from Mulder and Scully. She resisted.

"How about 15 instead of 7 thou?" he murmured softly to her, as if he were whispering a romantic tune into her ear. "There's an extra thousand for good faith." Gwen whipped around and took a wide swipe at him. Her facial expression betrayed her, giving Burton time to duck her blow and instead she spun uselessly off into space. Burton caught her arm and wrenched her to the spot angrily and with such force that Mulder took an involutary step forward to Gwen's aid. She wrestled herself free of Burton anyway and stood there speechlessly panting at him, her face red.

Burton's face was ugly. "I'm just doing my job." He muttered at her between clenched teeth. "But I'm making you an offer, okay Gardiner?"

Behind them, emergency workers carried an anonymusly shrouded figure out on a stretcher and loaded it into the ambulance to be forgotten about by everybody by the time the 6 o'clock news came on. Scully watched them close the doors to the truck and slowly back away, the flashers silently fluttering as it drove off.

Gwen watched the ambulance drive away as well. She turned back to Burton, who was watching the media watch him. "Keep the money," she said, feeling sick. "I didn't do my job." Burton looked fed up with her. "Gwen-" he began.

"I DON'T WANT The MONEY!" she shouted at him with no warning.

Mulder thought he saw Burton flinch slightly. A distance away a black limousine lurked up anonymusly. Burton eyed it and turned to her.

"Whatever you want, Gwen," he said hollowly.

Gwen opened her mouth to protest "You don't understa-"

"The car is here to take you back home, Gwen." He cut her off loudly.

Gwen turned to Mulder and Scully, noticing them for the first time. Scully suddenly realized how drained looking Gwen had become. Gwen met her gaze a moment, considering something, and then turned to Mulder.

"I'm going to take Agent Mulder up on his gracious offer to drive me and Agent Scully home," she said offhandedly to Burton, still looking at Mulder.

Mulder opened his mouth and then thought better of it. He looked at Scully, whose facial expression matched Gwen's. He began again. " Yes." he agreed, a little dubiously, "it's the least we could do to thank her."

Fin.

Title: Gwen and the Video Tape
Author: Tracey H.
Written: December 1995

Summary: Hearing that the X-Files have been closed, Gwen tries to do a favor for her new friend, Agent Mulder. Instead she receives a crash course in paranoia.

Hello!

Here's the second story in the Gwen Chronicles. It stands alone, but if you like Gwen, her first meeting with M & S is recounted in my other story, "Gwen", which is in the Gossamer archive (http://gossamer.eng.ohio-state.edu) or I can e-mail it. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to keep writing about her. She will be back again soon. Also many thanks to Rob, who posted and edited this for me

[You're welcome, Tracey!-ed.].

Tracey []

All characters are (c) Chris Carter and 10-13 productions and are used without permission- except Gwen who's (c) me!

Gwen's hand lingered over the videotape. There was nothing she could do for him. Well-respected, she hung balanced between being a trusted insider and an arms-length observer, and she was painfully aware that this was a very rare and dangerous position to be in in the Bureau. If she stole the tape, or indeed was even so much as seen trying to help Mulder in any way, valuing Gwen as much as they did, the higher-ups would succumb to their not entirely unfounded suspicions.

Time was ticking away while she pondered her moral dilemma. The keeper of the FBI archive would be through checking titles in a minute. Some of the FBIs didn't like her, thought she had too much freedom. Even being the best hostage-negotiator in the FBI did not win you their trust, if you weren't going to join their club.

At first, the FBI was thrilled to have her helicoptered in for any hostage-crisis and once that was taken care of, fair-weather-friends, they thanked her, flattered her, and sent her away until they needed her again.

After a while of this, they decided to honour her with the offer of a full-time post in the Bureau, head of her own department. She refused, and they began to act a little resentful. Considering what had happened to the X-Files themselves, Gwen had no trouble envisioning them summarily firing her.

If they only fired her. Gwen stared at the videotape. The FBI's strange attitude towards her was beginning to creep her out - if they let her go she could quietly retire on the money she had been paid for her services.

In the last few years, she had become the unwilling Sweetheart of the Bureau, earning them much positive publicity and being the subject of many human interest stories on news programs. And then, on her visits to the Hoover Building, her easygoing manner had won the hearts of most of the upper ranks. They would beg her to stay for long chats where she would play therapist and listen to their mundane worries. This was a task she did not enjoy nor was she paid for it. She was moved to do it mostly out of pity for aging men who had no outlet for their stress. But unfortunately, having taken her into their confidence, those visits, and the fact that she had seen things, overheard some classified information made them a little uncomfortable.

She picked up the tape, and glanced at the sticky label on the side: UFO sightings - civilian footage 1988 - 1992. That was his big cause, right? It was light, so small - she could easily cram all five of them in her large straw shoulder bag. However, suspicion would be aroused by the disappearance of the entire set of evidence tapes. It had to look misplaced. No one could find out. It wasn't just for anyone, she reminded herself, it was for Mulder.

It was awful what they had put him through - she had gleaned what few rumours she could from the FBI grapevine. Gwen could only guess what he must be feeling. Quickly and decisively, she stuffed the videocassette into her bag and covered it with her shawl. She grabbed a book off of the shelf and examined its spine, looking for the tiny edge of silver foil. It was a terrible thing to have one's job taken away. In fact, Gwen realized, opening the book to the page with the magnetic strip glued into the crease, most of the hostage takings she had dealt with had the same theme: someone gets laid off or loses their job, feels cheated and demoralized, returns to work armed with a few semi-automatic weapons and acts out their grief and rage on innocent people.

It seemed to be a very ninties problem - insomuch as in the late eighties her function as negotiator would be trying to meet terrorist demands, now she had to keep the hostage-taker from sinking beneath the morass of his own resentment.

Not that this described Mulder, except that she could imagine that he would be in a very delicate state right now. The X-Files had meant a great deal to him.

The Bureau had come to her, a while back, and asked if she could draw up a psychological profile of him. Had they been worried

about him that long? At the time, she had considered it. She and Mulder had only met briefly once or twice since the crisis in which his partner had been taken hostage. But finally she had refused, citing that she would only work for the Bureau in the capacity of Hostage Negotiator and guest lecturer at the Academy.

The truth had been different. She had actually begun the profile and had abandoned it out of fear. Mulder had so much anger and resentment inside of him, such a monomania for his work, that on paper she would be forced to write that he was bordering on psychopathic.

Gwen flinched. It was the truth, but it was wrong.

She knew he was a compassionate and dedicated agent, a real asset to the FBI. However, his assignment had caused him to become very highly strung and defensive. If he discIosed himself at all, it would be after a long time, in a "slow leak" fashion, and probably to his partner, Agent Scully. In fact, he was withholding so many emotions that she had to conclude that, yes, Mulder was either going to kill himself or someone else before long, and that the removal of his work or partner was a potentially dangerous decision. She had burnt all of her notes.

She frowned, peeling the magnetic strip from the book off and sticking it to the bottom of her shoe. Gwen knew she was kidding herself.

She honestly liked Mulder, that was all, and it hurt her to have to betray him.

After the hostage-taking, they had had lunch together, when she was in DC for her "meetings" with the FBI brass. He wasn't as G-man as the other agents she had dealt with in the past and she found his perspective refreshingly open-minded.

On one sunny June day, they had been sitting on a concrete fence in the park across from the Hoover Building where all the brown-bagger FBI agents ate. Mulder had squinted at her. "You don't like the Bureau much, do you?" he got out around a mouthful of sandwich.

She thought for a minute. "I don't want to make my career with these guys. They're really-"

Mulder washed down his sandwich with a gulp of Snapple. "Tight-assed?" He smiled at her. She waved her hands in the general direction of the building.

"Noo..." she began sheepishly. "Just-" Smiling, he jumped off of the fence.

"Hard to take? Thick? Condescending? Moronic-?" Mulder rattled off an endless list.

She shook her head. "No, and of course, present company excepted, but I do feel that, sitting out here, on a nice day, eating our respective lunches, if a car were to drive by us, and backfire, they-" Gwen pointed over her shoulder to the myriad of FBI agents eating their lunches in the shade of the trees in the park. "well, there would suddenly be about five hundred people here firing guns in every direction, figuring it was some kind of invasion."

Mulder sat back down, his face suddenly grim and stared at his sandwich. Gwen took a deep breath. "They're-"

"Dangerous." Mulder finished and crumpled up his paper bag, nodding solemnly. "Understood." He tossed it into a garbage can and re-capped his drink. He turned to her. "And you understand it too. They've got the guns. They're dangerous."

She wanted to know what he was warning her about, being as he had a gun too. As she opened her mouth to speak, he ducked across the street, dodging traffic. "Mulder?"

She could see that she had put him in a foul mood and that he felt he should spare her his company. He waved to her before going back in the building. "See ya!" and he was gone.

It could be a bias, she realized, but frankly he didn't strike her as psychopathic. Yes, he had trouble dealing with his emotions, and yes, he took his work a little too seriously, but she couldn't bring herself to believe her own findings. He was a nice guy, and that's all there was to it. Not like all the other FBI agents.

It certainly would be easy enough for her to say that any number of the Bureau's highest ranking employees were a little risky, at the very least, she thought getting to her feet. The librarian had returned empty-handed. He handed her back her request form.

"Sorry, there is no listing for any of these files." He smiled apologetically. Gwen felt herself relax a little, the tape safely in her bag.

This guy wasn't going to be a problem. Gwen hit her forehead sheepishly. "Well, I'm sorry I made you run around like that for nothing-"

He shrugged. "S'my job." Gwen pulled her straw bag further up her shoulder. This was the same as the old-hostage negotiating game, she told herself. It was all about establishing trust. It was the telling lies part that made her all shaky. This was for one of the few sane FBI men left.

"Well, still, what a drag. Thanks a bunch, hey?" she said jovially, walking to the exit. As she neared the sensors, the librarian raised his hand in goodbye. He was about to say something, when-

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

-the alarm went off. Gwen, through to the other side, dropped her bag and held her hands up.

"Oh no, what did I do?" she cried, her voice panicky and shrill. The librarian laughed and gestured for her to come back in. Gwen nonchalantly left her bag on the other side and ambled back past the alarm sensors. He pointed to her bag as she walked through. "Is there something in your b-" he started as she walked by the sensor.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

When the alarm sounded this time, Gwen stopped in her tracks, deliberately paused between the alarm towers. "This is so embarrassing!" she yelled as the alarm continued. The librarian pointed at her feet.

"It's your shoe!" he cried over the din. Gwen bent down and pulled loose the magnetic strip from the sole of her shoe, and tossed it towards the librarian. The alarm stopped. Silence reigned.

"Well, that's a relief." she sighed. "What happened?"

"Magnetic strip got stuck to your shoe. It's okay." The librarian picked up the piece of foil and tossed it into the trash. "see you later."

"Bye." Gwen replied and rejoined her bag.

Clutching the strap of her straw shoulder bag in sweaty hands, Gwen exited the dark library and merged with the busy, bustling traffic of the main corridor. She was picked up and carried along in its flow. Why was it this busy? The video tape felt to her like it was throbbing inside of her bag.

Men and women in suits, passing her by in the opposite direction, eyed her momentarily, sizing her up. Her "Eternal Student" style always got her weird looks in the Hoover building, the flowing hippie skirt and beads contrasting with her high-level security clearance visitor's pass.

She let herself go with the bustling crowds, terribly aware howany sign of doubt would draw more attention to herself. It struck her that it must be lunchtime and she made a decisive turn in the direction of the cafeteria. On her way there she scanned the throngs of Bureau employees for Agent Mulder. No luck; not that she could talk to him in the open anyhow.

Once in the cafeteria, she seated herself with an apple juice, her bag sitting on the table in front of her. She was cold, but her shawl was the only thing hiding the forbidden videocassette from view. Frig, she thought, I'm a psychologist. This is dumb.

Gwen pondered how to contact Mulder. She wished she had worked that out before she had taken the tape. Why had she done this for him? Suddenly she was horribly embarrasssed. He hardly knew her. He could take this all the wrong way. Gwen felt her cheeks get hot. Oh god, what a big mistake.

She ordered herself to calm down. She was drinking juice in the FBI cafeteria. All she had done was accidentally steal a videotape. God knows what horrible plots everybody else had particpated in. They had been beastly to Mulder, and she felt bad for him. He was a difficult guy, but he wasn't all bad, and she wanted to help him out. Jeeze, she thought, it's a good thing I don't really work for the Bu-

Suddenly, her eyes fell upon Mulder's lanky frame sleepwalking through the cafeteria lineup. She stood up and grabbed her bag. Then she sat down. She couldn't approach him in the cafeteria, for God's sake.

Gwen watched.

Mulder approached the cashier, a muffin and banana in hand.

He was lost in thought, his face grim as he tossed a coin into the cashier's tip cup. As Gwen suspected, he didn't stay to eat in the cafeteria, and she rose slowly as he headed out.

She made up her mind. She was going to follow him. Very FBI.

Out in the hallway again, it was almost impossible to keep up with him. Mulder's stride, despite his distracted air, was far too fast for her. Weaving in and out of the crowded corridors and offices, he led her on a chase all over the building. In the end, they had been to so many photocopiers, water fountains, and newsstands that Gwen began to think that they had closed the X-Files and forgotten to reassign him anything else to do.

Finally she sensed he was slowing down. She adjusted her pace accordingly, hanging as far back as she dared. He ducked into a doorway along the hall. Gwen waited a moment and then carefully approached.

It was the men's washroom. She kept walking until she reached the other end of the hall and then slumped down against a window. She was just getting up the energy to go and return the tape to the library and write the whole episode off when he came out. He paused a moment, thinking, and then entered the stairwell. Here was her chance.

She peeled after him and threw open the door to the stairwell. She hoped he wasn't going to go up too many floors when she heard the

door behind her shut firmly. Gwen wheeled around. It was Mulder. He looked pissed off. "Why are you following me?"

Gwen tried looking surprised to see him but she could see he wasn't going to sit for it. "I have to talk to you."

"Talk." His expression was mercurial.

Gwen took a deep breath. "Look, Mulder, I heard about what happened and I-"

He interrupted her angrily. "What did you hear?"

"About the X-Files. I'm sorry. I know it must be hard-" she began nervously. He shook his head and turned to go back into the hallway.

"I'm busy-"

She yanked the tape out of her bag and held it out to him. He turned around. "This is for you. It's one of the tapes of evidence from the X-Files. I thought you might want it." He took the tape from her and examined it, saying nothing. "I took it from the video archives, it's footage of UFO's that you had on file - I can imagine how important it must be to you, I mean, all that work - so I thought, you know, that you could use-"

He threw the tape back at her as if it suddenly repulsed him. "I don't want it." His voice echoed in the empty stairwell. She felt hot shame spread across her face. I'm an idiot, she thought. But she would worry about that later, because Mulder was being the bigger idiot.

"Mulder-" Gwen began, losing her cool for the first time that day. She tried to quell it. "Mulder," she tried again. "This isn't some kind of trick. I risked my job for you. I honestly thought that you might need-"

He was seething. "I didn't ask you to do this for me, Dr. Gardiner. I would never do this for you. I don't want your help."

Gwen shoved the videocassette back into her bag angrily. She had too much to say to him, and none of it was polite. "Fine. Fine. You don't trust me. You don't trust anyone. That's too bad for you. You probably can't conceive that someone would even want to help you - you probably figure I've got some ulterior motive- well, I don't-"

Mulder's eyes for an instant softened, or so Gwen imagined, for in a second they had become hard and distant again. "Spare me," he said and he was through the door and back in the hall.

Gwen stood there in the stairwell, staring after him, aghast. She was right, closing the X-Files had upset him. What she hadn't counted on was that he would become such a- "Prick!" Gwen spat aloud, unable to restrain herself.

At that instant Assistant Director Ellis came through the door, and recognized her.

"Gwen!" he cried happily. She tried to shove her angry thoughts away and attempted to smile.

"Bob - how are you?" Suddenly she remembered the videocassette and frantically pushed it to the bottom of her bag. What was she going to do now? If he found out she had stolen a videotape for Mulder, she would have a mountain of explaining to do.

Assistant Director Ellis pointed at her bag. "Going on a picnic?"

She thought she would faint. Foolishly, she had made no provision for returning the tape and she had fearful fantasies that she would be stuck hiding it forever, like an ugly tattoo. "No," she said rather defensively, as if he was an idiot.

Assistant Director Ellis tilted his head at her and then remembered to smile. "Oh, well, with that bag and all, you looked like you were-"

"I wasn't." she snapped, and hearing her voice ring out crabbily through the stairwell, wondered if Mulder's blistering saracasm was contagious.

Bob Ellis decided to get on his way, and huffed his way downstairs. "Okay, Gwen. Don't forget to drop by whenever you're back in...."

The sound of a match hissing into life caused the librarian to lift his head. A trail of thin blue smoke drifted up lazily from the lit cigarette.

Seconds later, the smell hit him and he stood up to address the man who stood at the door, smoking non-chalantly.

"I'm sorry but this building has been designated no smoking," he said matter of factly, coming away from his work at the microfiche machine.

The owner of the cigarette took a long, pensive drag and stepped towards the counter.

"I'm looking for a tape." He pulled a piece of paper out of his inner jacket pocket. "Perhaps you've seen it."

It wasn't phrased as a question and the librarian refused to look. "Sir. This is a no-smoking building. You'll have to butt out in that ashtray."

The smoking man looked idly over to where the librarian was pointing, and turned back to him, staring at him disinterestedly. "I said perhaps you've seen it." Wisps of smoke curled up from his lips as he spoke.

The librarian began to get annoyed. Any minute now his allergies would kick in. "Could I see some authorization please?" This time there was another extended haul and the man slowly funnelled it out between his thin, papery lips. The smoke, in a thick concentration, crowded the librarian's face, smothering him.

His eyes began to water. "What division are you from? Who's your section head?"

The smoking man's grey face twisted into a condescending smile, but his lips remained tight and sharp, a sealed envelope, blue tendrils of smoke wafting out of his nose.

The librarian put his hand on the phone. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm going-"

He was cut off by a sudden annoyed gesture. The smoking man quickly tripped the cigarette from his mouth and grabbed it between his thumb and index finger, jabbing it towards him. The librarian jumped.

The smoking man slowly brought the cigarette up to the librarian's face, stopping an inch before his eye. "I don't need any authorization. Do you understand?"

The smoke stang his eyes and the librarian squinted, allergic tears squeezing out of the corners. The cigarette smoke wound its way into his mouth, his nose, every orifice, crawling up into his sinuses and filling his face. The cigarette slid a little closer to his runny eye. He could feel the heat of the cinders on the tip warming his lashes. The librarian's hot sweaty hands slid over the countertop

nervously, unable to grasp onto anything. "What do you want?!" the librarian blurted suddenly, the smell of the cigarette rushing into his open mouth like water and forcing itself down his throat. He began to cough.

"I want you to find me a video cassette." The smoking man's voice, unhurried and soft filtered through the librarian's panic. The librarian felt an eyelash sizzle, wet with tears. His lungs had been filled with cloyingly bitter smoke and he nodded slightly, unable to speak.

"Good." The man pulled the cigarette away and sucked on it a moment. The librarian dissolved into shaking phlegmmy coughs. His hands scrabbled to find the paper on the countertop. More smoke was blown into his face. He pointed.

"It should-" He hacked violently, hanging onto the counter a moment. "it should be over there..."

The man with cigarette glided away from him silently and the librarian gulped down fresher air, sweat and tears coating his face. His nose ran and he blew it an old archive form.

His client returned with four boxes and dropped them brusquely onto the counter. They clattered and fell all over. The cigarette man was angry. He was smoking on a tiny butt of a cigarette. "I need the fifth. Where is the fifth tape?!"

"I don't know-" The librarian tried to stand up straight. "I need to know the-"

A short blast of smoke was heaved into his face. "Find it!"

The librarian ducked down, coughing, and picked a tape up off

the floor. He typed it's archive number into the computer. He turned to the smoking man. "There are five in the series. It should have been with the others."

"It wasn't." The man said, eyeing him supsiciously. "Where is the other tape?"

"I don't know." The librarian shrugged. "It's -- arhhhhhhhh!"

"You don't know-?" The smoker brought the end of the cigarette that he was smoking down on the back of the librarian's hand and butted it out, grinding it into his soft flesh. The librarian clutched his hand while it was held there. "Are you sure."

"Yes! Yesssss.....oh God....." he moaned. The cigarette was removed, half extinguished, and flicked at him. The slight smell of burnt flesh mingled with the smoke. The librarian frantically brought his hand up to his mouth. The smoking man smiled with mock woe and moved to the door. Pausing on the other side of the alarm sensors, he lit another cigarette.

"That's too bad..."

Hours later Gwen found herself at Quantico. She stood outside of the door of a classroom in the basement of the FBI Academy. The same nefarious straw bag hung from her shoulder . She checked the institutional clock on the wall. Perhaps she would be able at last to find a way to ditch her evil cargo.

Without warning, a gaggle of students funnelled through the door past her in a cloud of formaldehyde. They followed the overhead pipes and disappeared down the basement corridor. A few minutes after the last hangers-on had finally cleared out, Scully wandered out, wearing a rust coloured suit, with her notes under her arm.

She walked by Gwen in a daze and suddenly Gwen feared that she too had been exposed to Mulder's annoying sleepwalking disease.

Gwen opened her hand in a motionless wave. "Hi," she said, grinning as Scully turned, a look of surprise on her face. "Remember me?"

"Gwen!" Scully cried with such enthusiasm that Gwen wondered if Scully had any friends left in the world at all. "What are you doing here?"

Gwen gestured at the ceiling to floors above them. "I was in giving my workshop, and I thought I would stop by...."

"Workshop?" Scully asked.

Gwen shrugged. "'Non-Confrontational Conflict Resolution'-"

Scully looked enlightened. "Oh!"

Gwen stepped closer to her, nodding. "Yes. Look, I need to talk to you-" she said, suddenly impatient. She unhooked her straw bag from her arm and held it out to Scully. "About this."

"Your bag?" Scully asked, somewhat warily. "Is something wrong?"

"We can't talk here-" Gwen said quickly.

Scully didn't protest. Rather she sighed deeply and nodded.

Mulder nodded politely to the secretary, who in turn nodded him toward the door of Skinner's office. He felt lucky today, and he smiled as he gripped the doorhandle. The X-Files were starting to follow Mulder around for a change, first with Gwen's attempt to give him the video and now with the urgent call to the Assistant Director's office. Be gracious, he reminded himself, pulling the door open, don't crap all over Skinner - he's a good man.

The good man was behind his desk, hands on his hips, staring out the window, his clenched lips a staright line on his face.

Mulder quietly shut the door behind him. "Sir, I-"

"Don't even start talking, Agent Mulder." Skinner said tersely. "Until I'm finished with you."

Mulder blinked. He smelled a distinct odour of cigarette smoke, bitter and stale. "Sir-"

"What did I say, Agent Mulder?" Skinner snapped. He turned away from the window and looked at Mulder hard. "I remove you as far out of harm's way as I can and you still find a way to be an embarrassment to the department!"

Mulder stared at his feet, apparently repentant, but in reality he was confused and a little embarrassed. He held his tongue.

Skinner ground his teeth. "The situation is this: there is a tape missing from the video archive. It happens to be civilian footage of UFO sightings-"

Mulder looked up, surprised. "What-?"

"And I was wondering who would want information of that nature!" Skinner snapped. "I hope it's nobody I know, do you understand Agent Mulder?"

"I didn't-" Mulder spluttered.

"I don't want to hear it!" Skinner spat, stepping closer to him. "I don't think you appreciate the intensity of this situation. An FBI evidence tape is missing and I've been taken to task for it. I suggest you get that tape back to its place in the archive before tomorrow if you think that wire tap surveillance is as far down as you can go, Agent Mulder!"

Skinner turned his back on him and continued to look out of the window. He spoke over his shoulder. "That is all, Agent Mulder."

Mulder blindly clawed his way to the door. "Sir..." he said, and he was a hair away from sounding whiny.

Skinner stared at something far away outside of the building, and spoke as if he hadn't heard Mulder at all. "...And I don't care if you've donated it to a children's hospital, Mulder. Get it back."

Mulder waited a moment to see if Skinner was done, and he limped out the door.

The steaming hot potato skins wove their way through the crowded bar carried by a waiter that aimed straight for their booth like he had a homing device. He cleared away the soft drinks that Gwen and Scully were nursing and set the huge plate down between them.

"Can we eat all this?" Scully asked, grinning. Gwen forgot her worries momentarily and snitched a piece of cheese- embalmed bacon that had escaped an overloaded potato.

"I think we can." Gwen heaped a potato onto her plate.

Scully followed suit. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Gwen spoke around the mozzarella that tied her mouth up. "I heard about the closing of the X-Files."

"Oh?" Scully commented, trying to seem nonchalant, cutting her potato into precise bite-size pieces. "Well, they've got me back at the Academy full-time now...." she said emotionlessly. "I'm happy to be doing something at least."

Gwen nodded. Obviously, the previous assignment had meant a lot to Scully as well. "I'm sorry to hear it."

Scully lifted her eyes from her food and looked at Gwen. She suddenly looked sad, just long enough for Gwen to see, and then she smiled self- conciously. "Thanks. Could we change the subject?"

"Well, actually I wanted to talk to you about Fox."

"Mulder? What's he done now?" Scully asked with an annoyance that bordered on fondness.

Gwen had to prevent herself from ranting about how rude he had been to her. Scully was FBI, she'd want facts. "Well, I heard about the X-Files closing, and I knew how much it meant-" Suddenly in light of how Scully was behaving, Gwen realized that the X-Files were a group effort. "Meant to the both of you."

"Okay..." Scully concentrated on her food.

"And I wanted to do something nice so I went to the video library at the Hoover Building..." It struck Gwen that there was no way to make what she did sound intelligent. "And stole something." She reached down into her straw bag and pulled out the video tape.

"A video?" Scully asked incredulously. "For Mulder? Do you have any idea the sort of thing he normally watches?"

Gwen handed it to Scully, who wiped her fingers and examined it. "It's a cassette of UFO footage from your research."

Reading the label, Scully nodded, smiling. "The perfect gift for the man who has everything."

Gwen frowned at her potato skins. "That's what I would have thought...."

Scully handed back the tape. "What do you mean?"

"I gave it to him and was blasted with such a freezing cold paranoia-" Gwen began, shoving it into back into its home in her bag.

"Oh he must like you, then." Scully laughed. "He only freaks out at his friends. I got it all the time."

"I don't think I'm in his good books anymore. We had it out and now I'm stuck with the tape...!" Gwen realized she was full and helped herself to another potato skin.

"What? You mean you really stole it?" Scully sounded amazed.

She reached across the table and pulled the tape out of Gwen's straw bag, the sleeve of her crisp white blouse dragging in the food. "I didn't think you were serious," she said, reading the label again. "How did you even get into the video archive?"

Reaching into her bag, Gwen pulled out her security badge and flashed it at Scully with an apologetic smile. "I've got pretty high clearance."

Scully was dumbfounded and took it as well. Holding the video in one hand and the ID in ther other, she shook her head. "This badge isreal? They've granted you higher access than me!"

"I'm in good with the Assistant Directors." Gwen sighed, a little embarrassed. Scully still looked confused so she explained. "I drop by for psychological house calls, they seem to like having me around. So they gave me it so I could come and go as I pleased."

Scully raised her eyebrows. "But he doesn't want the tape."

Gwen threw her hands in the air, almost knocking drinks off of a passing waiter's tray. "I know! What do I do?"

"Mulder will never change his mind or apologize." Scully thought for a moment. "You'd better give it back."

With a loud thump Gwen sank back in the booth. She grimaced. "I knew it."

A Buddhist in theory, if not always in practice, Gwen inevitably found herself back at FBI headquarters later that same day, wondering how she could have expected that stealing something would give her good karma. Scully had been infallible in her logic.

Besides, thought Gwen with regret, the gas she wasted between the Hoover building, Quantico and back again, was murderous. She had no trouble affording it, but if she hadn't taken the tape it would have been a much cheaper day.

Gwen reached the archive and paused in front of the door to collect herself. She hadn't any brilliant scheme to return the tape, just a reverse version of what she had did before. The most difficult part was coming up with the non-existant but plausible sounding titles for the archivist to check.

She readjusted her bag on her shoulder, took a deep breath and went in.

It was a good thing she had taken that deep breath outside in the hall - the air inside the archive smelled of old, acrid, cigarette smoke. She tried breathing through her mouth instead and placed her bag down outside of the sensors. The archivist was absorbed in something behind the counter and didn't even look up when she entered. She walked over and waited for him to notice her.

He was sitting at the microfiche machine but he wasn't reading anything. He was staring at a bandage on his hand. Gwen stared at it too, and when he still said nothing she spoke. "Hello, " she grinned. "Back again."

The archivist didn't grin back at her. "What do you want," he asked tonelessly.

She held out the paper with the unimaginable title on it. "It's a book....I think. Or maybe a file. I don't know. Somebody recommended it and...." she trailed off.

The archivist did look up at her for an instant, and his eyes were red- rimmed.

Suddenly the wild impulse to chicken out of the whole ordeal flew up out of her gut. "Oh maybe I'd better come back another-"

"Find it yourself, okay?" he said crankily and turned back to his hand.

Gwen raised her eyebrows and turned away from the counter, considering her options. For a moment Gwen considered simply foisting the tape on Mulder and letting him deal with it but Scully had seemed certain that he would want no part of it. Besides, why complicate matters further than they had been already?

She walked over to her bag and looked back at the archivist. He was doing the same thing he had been the whole time. A moment of sheer folly brought on by utter desperation gripped her. She whipped the video cassette out boldly, lifting it over her head, and marched through the alarm sensors back into the library.

The archivist didn't see or if he did, he didn't care. Gwen quickly disappeared amongst the shelves of videos and found the space where the series had been. The smell of acrid smoke was strong even in the aisles. Strangely enough, the rest of the tapes were missing, and a flash of fear ran through her veins.

She shoved the cassette back onto the shelf it had been stolen from and quickly left the video aisle of the archive. She wandered around aimlessly a bit more and then went to the counter again. The librarian had given up his previous hobby and now was staring off into space, the black cloud over his head almost visible.

"Never mind," she said with feigned cheerfulness. "I think I forgot something..."

"Yeah." The archivist didn't care, which was fine with her.

She turned around and walked out into the cooler, cleaner smelling hallway, a feeling of victory and relief overwhelming her.

Mulder frenetically beat at the telephone on his desk with a pen while the other agents bustled about, getting ready to brave the traffic home. In front of him sat depressing pages and pages of notes from his wire taps and he heard Skinner's voice endlessly threatening him with a worse job.

As the agents began clearing out for the day, Mulder watched the maintenance staff, wondering about how to contact Gwen. He had bumped into her a few times in the hall and they had had lunch for old time's sake, but he had never asked where she could be reached. He dropped his pen and picked up the phone.

"Bureau switchboard," a man answered after a second. "Hi, this is Agent Mulder up in the Criminal Division. Can you get me the extension number for Gwen Gardiner?"

"Uh..." The switchboard operator sounded like he had one foot out the door. "Gardiner? Hang on."

Mulder was plonked into "Hold" limbo. He picked up his pen.

Skinner was going to kill him.

"Gwen Gardiner?" the operator came back on quickly. "We have her listed as crisis management. Is that right?"

"Yeah." Mulder resumed tap-tap-tapping with his pen on different things on his desk. "I just need her extension."

"We have none listed for her. Is this a priority situation?"

Mulder pondered this momentarily. "Yes," he said, with almost no hesitation.

"There are four classified numbers for her. One at the Academy, one at Georgetown University, one at home and her pager. It says here that I am only authorized to give them out in the event that we need her services as a crisis mediator."

The maintenance people swarmed through the office, emptying waste baskets and vacuuming all around Mulder as if he weren't there. Mulder ran his hand through his hair, considering his options. "Is this a hostage situation?" the operator asked. Mulder bit his lip and shook his head.

He was already in trouble with Skinner. If it got back to him that Mulder had lied to get access to private phone numbers.... "No. Thanks anyways." He leaned over and picked up the phone book, flipping it open.

The operator had barely hung up when Mulder had grabbed dialtone and punched in the university's number.

"Georgetown University Information." a woman's voice said crisply.

"I'm looking for Gwen Gardiner's office number-" Mulder started. There was an abrupt click and after the moment the phone was picked up again.

"Psychology department." A slightly more laid back voice answered.

Mulder relaxed a little. A cleaning woman with a shiny clearance badge dangling from her uniform passed a vacuum cleaner under his legs like he were just another piece of furniture.

"I'm looking for Dr. Gardiner...?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Gwen's not in today. Is she your thesis advisor?"

Thesis. Even now, the word came through loud and clear over the growl of vacuum cleaners and gave him a chill. For a moment he was transported back to long nights in the library at Oxford and he shook himself of the dreary thought. "...Uh, no. Do you have her address?"

"I'm sorry, but that information is not availible to students-"

"I'm Agent Mulder from the FBI and-"

The woman paused for a moment and then recognition came to her. "Oh! Yes, the FBI. Of course. She's out near Hagerstown, on county road nine. You can't miss her, she's the only one out there."

"Great. Thank you." Mulder said and hung up. Gwen certainly didn't want to live near the FBI building, that was for sure. For a moment he considered what his next move would be and then realized his path was clear. Find her.

Mulder stood up suddenly and grabbed his coat, startling the maintenance workers. He crowded past them and ran off down the hall.

The sun finally sank, leaving a pinkish streak in the sky, as the night trees in the forests that surrounded Gwen's house stared back at her through the window. She stood contemplating them, dark and silent, a contrast to a day fraught with nagging problems. A pile of thesis applications sat next to her computer, quietly awaiting her attention, but she ignored them for now.

With much of the money that the Bureau had paid her she was able to build a modern wooden house in the middle of nowhere, with more windows than walls, and now she was looking out one of them. She thought about her day, about the FBI, about what she was supposed to learn from her escapade as she sipped at a mug of tea.

As she stared at the dark trees outside, a pair of headlights slashed across them, startling her. Somebody was turning up her driveway. She set down her mug and went to the front of the house to investigate.

A familiar shape in a black coat lumbered up the steps. As he peeked through the window before ringing the bell, Gwen tapped at the glass in front of his face, causing him to jump. "Hey!" she said jovially, unlocking the door. "Fox! What are you doing here?"

He stepped inside her house and shut the door behind him. "Gwen," he said, his face serious. "I need that tape."

"What tape?" she asked, having honestly been so caught up in the ensuing mess that she had forgotten what had caused it. "How did you find me?" She moved to take his coat.

He didn't take it off. "It wasn't easy-"

"I wonder why?" she smiled. "You know how I feel about the FBI, Fox. I want to stay free-lance - I don't need everybody trying to find me every time they have a problem they could solve themselves."

"I needed to talk to you. The university gave me your address."

"Okay...what is it?" She wondered if he were going to apologize for the way he had treated her. Unfortunately, something about the way Mulder impatiently shifted from foot to foot gave Gwen the impression he wasn't going to recant anything.

"That tape you tried to give me-"

Gwen suddenly remembered. "Right!-"

"I need it."

Gwen froze momentarily. Was he asking for it back? She frowned. Was he even asking? He was demanding it from her. "I thought you didn't want it."

"I didn't," he said with no hint of remorse. "Now I do."

Gwen felt a tight feeling circle her chest. "That's too bad."

Mulder blinked. "What?"

"What did you tell me...'spare me' I think you said?" She found words forming sentences in her mouth that she could not control. "Well, I'm sparing you. Aren't you glad?"

"Gwen-" he began, looking worried.

"You've been spared another person meddling in your problems! All these people trying to help you are really such a drag, aren't they-?"

"All these people?!" Mulder began to get angry.

"Me, Dana...God knows who else, why do we bother?"

"Scully?" he blurted.

She was on a roll now. "She and I had a talk, and she said you haven't spoken to her since they closed the X-files! It's not her fault that they closed, you know?"

"This is about the video cassette, Gwen!"

"No it's not - we're not at the Hoover Building. This isn't business. This is about you and the cruddy way you treat people!"

Mulder wanted to leave but he couldn't go without the tape.

"Listen Gwen, I'm sorry. I've -I've been under some stress, all right? I just need to have that video cassette by tomorrow."

"Is that an apology?!"

"No - you wanted an apology?!" he demanded.

Gwen nodded.

Mulder took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm sorry. I was rude. I had other things on my mind. You shouldn't be stealing stuff from the FBI library for me."

She glared at him. "That was the best you could do? An excuse-?"

"Do you want me to get down on one knee?!" he snapped, pushing past her into her sparsely decorated livingroom and hunting around. "I'm sorry Gwen, but I don't have time for this."

She followed after him. "Do you have a search warrant?"

Mulder stopped in mid-stride and turned around. His face fell even further, and he said nothing for a moment. Gwen knew she had hit him with a low blow and felt guilty.

"Fox..." She began, knowing that he hadn't really intended to search her house. That in itself didn't bother her as she knew the tape was sitting comfortably back at the library. She was being cruel and she owed him an apology.

Mulder shook his head at her. "Gwen. I'm really sorry. You're right, I'm being a jerk." he folded his hands in front of him, repentant. "This is your house - I barged in. I'm sorry."

Gwen smiled. "No problem, Fox. We're both a little uptight."

"Do you have the video cassette?" he asked quietly.

Gwen shook her head. "No." and she added, before Mulder fainted. "But I know where it is."

Mulder waited a few seconds, trying to calm his jangled nerves.

"Okay...?"

"Will you apologize to Dana? Will you call her?" Gwen asked.

Mulder looked taken aback. "She really misses you. She thinks you're angry with her-"

"Angry with her?" He shook his head in disbelief. "No...no. Never with Scully. My God..."

Inwardly Gwen smiled. Perhaps she had finally atoned for her own ignorant behavior. "If you promise me you'll check in on her, I'll tell you where I put the tape."

Mulder rubbed his forehead. "Of course. I don't need to promise. I will. I should have before."

Gwen decided to give it to him straight. "I put it back in the library."

Mulder jerked his head up. "What?! When?"

"Just this afternoon. Dana told me to put it back."

Mulder almost didn't hear what she was saying he was so confused and frustrated. He looked at her. "I'm going to have to kill you Gwen," he said, and without another word walked out of her house.

FIN

Title: Gwen and the People Upstairs
Author: Tracey H
Written: March 1996
Disclaimer: Characters (except Gwen) are copyright Chris Carter and 10-13 Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is the third story I've written about Gwen, a hostage negotiator for the FBI who has an uncanny talent for getting entangled in Mulder and Scully's world. It's a stand-alone story, but it's the third in a sequence. "Gwen" and "Gwen and the Videotape" are in the Gossamer archive.

The time is roughly late second season, although there are no spoilers. Comments are welcome.

SUMMARY: Gwen stumbles upon a conspiracy to cover up one of Mulder's investigations. She regrets confiding her discovery to Mulder when he becomes hell-bent on exposing it, damn the consequences.

"I've brought a visitor." Assistant Director Skinner held the door open for Gwen.

Mulder and Scully looked up from their work.

Gwen stepped in front of the Assistant Director dressed in a long peasant skirt and a cotton blouse. Her mousy hair was tucked in a loose bun at the back of her neck. She flashed them an open-handed wave. "Hi guys!"

"Gwen!" Scully grinned. "Long time no see!"

"She asked where your office was," Skinner said matter of factly. He turned to Gwen and smiled. "Well, Gwen. I'm looking forward to our next meeting."

Gwen nodded. "You bet."

Skinner moved to the door and paused, framed in it.

"Watch out for these two-" he said gravely, indicating Mulder and Scully. Mulder couldn't tell if he was joking or not, and that worried him.

Finally Skinner smiled. "Take care, Gwen."

"You too, Walt." she called after him as he disappeared back down the hall.

A moment later, Mulder rose and shut the door. He leaned against it, a smirk spreading over his lips. "'Walt'?

What's going on, Gwen?"

"Nothing." Gwen shrugged. "I was in to correct something on my pay check and I decided to do some visiting with the brass."

Scully went over to the coffee machine and refilled her mug. "You should see what level of security clearance they gave her, Mulder."

Mulder stepped toward his desk, smiling at Gwen. "What are you doing visiting Skinner?"

Gwen nodded. "I visit all of the Assistant Directors occasionally-" Mulder tilted his head at her in disbelief. "It's kind of an informal therapy thing....Just chatting - seeing how it's going."

Scully laughed. "There you go Mulder. No grist for your rumour mill today." She grinned, sipping her coffee.

"Give me a minute, Scully." Mulder sat down on the edge of his desk, nodding at Gwen. "'Just Chatting' with Assistant Director Skinner? What do you talk about-?"

"Mulder!" Scully exclaimed.

He was relentless. "What does he say? Does he ever mention Scully and I?"

"No." Gwen smiled. "Believe it or not." Mulder thudded back in his chair with defeat.

He picked up a file folder on his desk, grinning. "Tell me something I haven't heard about Skinner, and I'll show you what's in this!"

Scully rolled her eyes tiredly and walked away. "Mulder....."

"I don't care what's in that." Gwen sighed. "So why did they put you in the basem-?"

Mulder waved the file at her. "Aren't you wondering why I'm in such a good mood today?"

"Fox, our meetings are confidential." Gwen glanced over at Scully, who raised her eyebrows. Mulder waited patiently, saying nothing. "What? You really want to know something about Walter Skinner? Will that make your day?"

Mulder nodded.

Gwen toyed with her long necklace, thinking. "Hm. Okay...."

Scully couldn't hide her curiousity. "What?"

"Well," Gwen paused and took a deep breath. "And this better not get back to him. " she said after a moment. "He's a passionate collector."

Mulder considered this.

"All right, what's in the file that's putting you in such a good mood?"

"A collector?" Mulder grinned. "Skinner? Hmmm...."

Gwen reached for the file that Mulder held in his hand and tugged it away from him, flipping it open. Glossy photographs, slick and new-looking, slid out into her hand. She tilted her head at them.

"UFO photos...?" Gwen's voice was breathy. She had never given any thought to the subject until she had run into Mulder and Scully. "Are these your pictures? Did you see something-?"

Scully moved to her desk with her mug of coffee and sat down, smiling to herself while Mulder gleamed with shiny pride. "Well...." she said, under her breath. "No. Not exactly."

Mulder gently took the photographs from Gwen and fussily slipped them back into the file folder. "They aren't even my photos." He handed her the accompanying papers instead. "This is mine. I've been working on this for three years - somebody's testing some type of high tech aircraft at Ellens Air Force Base. The first time they caught me and drugged me so I couldn't remember-"

"He looked like a Deadhead with a hangover. I had to carry him home!" Scully shook her head with rueful fondness at Mulder.

Mulder tried to hide the excitement from his voice. His eyes sparkled. "There was something BIG there, Gwen. So big that they try to erase it from people's brains - to steal the images from their minds-" As he spoke Gwen's eyes widened in amazement. "And now; this!" he said enthusiastically, smacking the photos with the back of his hand. Gwen turned to Scully in disbelief.

"Uh-" Gwen started. Scully shook her head.

Before she could say anything Scully had answered her. "I didn't see any of it. I slept through it all." Mulder didn't hear her. "These are the first actual confirmed photographs to be taken of the tests and I've written about it all, including the disappearance and eventual lobotomized reappearance of a project test pilot named Budahas. AND," he said loudly, startling Gwen. "A newspaper is going to print it!"

Gwen's eyes darted over the essay she held in her hand. "You're going to publish this?" She looked up at Mulder blankly.

"For the first time the truth about the government's secret tests will be known, Gwen! What they've been doing for years - the strange lights in the sky, the brain-washing, the disappearances, will finally be exposed!"

"Ohh Fox..." Gwen dumped the file onto Mulder's desk like it was suddenly electric. "You're really going to make this all public?" she asked warily.

Mulder jumped up. "Of course!" he shouted enthusiastically. When he saw her dismayed expression, his face fell. He was suddenly annoyed. "Why not?"

"Secret tests?" Gwen flailed her arms helplessly. "You can't go around exposing secrets!" Mulder looked dark. Gwen felt she should explain. "Fox, I'm happy that they would publish it, but don't you think the government would be a little upset? I mean, if they felt it was important enough to erase people's minds-"

"That's the same reasoning I had," Scully said calmly from behind her desk.

Mulder slapped the file down on his desk with a hard whap! "I don't believe the both of you! Don't tell me that you condone this kind of behavior from the government!"

Scully groaned. "Mulder - think for a minute. If they drugged and abducted you once, what makes you think that they would hesitate to do something worse?"

"That's not the point-!" Mulder's voice grew thin. "They KNOW that I know-"

"They've known all along, Mulder-" Scully tried again. "What's different now?"

"They thought they had taken care of me - erased my memory - but I've collected more information-"

"Which makes this all the more dangerous-"

"Which makes this a powder keg I'm sitting on. The only way to be safe is to expose this now!"

Gwen nodded at Scully in agreement. "I'm with Dana on this - we don't want anything happening to you, Fox! We're just concerned."

Mulder put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor, steaming. "I knew I shouldn't have told you...." he said, his words stinging with bitterness.

Gwen wondered why she and Mulder always ended up arguing. She counted Mulder as a friend but as of late she kept wondering why. She felt terrible about it. Looking over at Scully, she could see that she was having similar thoughts.

"Fox-" Gwen attempted feebly.

"Call me Mulder. Could you call me 'Mulder' just once?"

"Whatever. Listen, I think you've done a great thing, Mulder." The words tasted difficult in her mouth. Mulder continued to stare at the floor. "It's that we care and we don't want to see you in jail or...." Gwen looked at Scully, and saw a deep concern in her eyes.

Mulder's expression did not change. Scully looked at her feet.

Feeling a little foolish, Gwen backed down. "Well, anyways, if you feel safe, then go right ahead. But be careful."

Mulder lifted his head from his sulk and looked at Gwen. He tried to match the concillatory tone in her voice. "I understand where you're coming from. It's nice to feel cared about." He picked the file up off his desk and flipped it open, his eyes darting over the photographs. "Then maybe you understand that this is important to me."

Gwen nodded. She thought he was being foolish but decided against saying anything. Mulder must know what he's doing. To hear Scully tell it, the two of them were up to their ears in government cover-ups, and when Gwen looked at her, she saw that she had serenely resigned herself to the idea that she couldn't influence Mulder. Gwen realized she should take Scully's lead and let Mulder's karma take care of itself.

She took a deep breath. "It's great, Mulder. I hope that you get some recognition for your work."

Mulder smiled. "I won't. But F.M. Luder will."

Gwen needed to find somebody who would take her pay cheque back. She had been paid by the Bureau for a negotiation job she had done when Scully had been taken hostage by Louis T. Bernard. He had claimed to have been abducted by aliens, and had eventually surrendered. They killed him anyway, and Gwen had sworn she wouldn't take any money for it. Lo and behold, months later a paycheck for double the fee she normally charged appeared with her mail. She had cried. They were trying to buy her off.

The elevator doors slid silently open on the ninth floor of the Hoover Building. Gwen stepped out. The xerox-scented halls were deserted, the usual hustle and bustle of the FBI headquarters' corridors a distant echo. A flourescent light flashed overhead.

The J. Edgar Hoover Building was an architectural nightmare. Designed to look imposing, it was montrously massive and impersonal, and it sat on Pennsylvania Avenue like a schoolyard bully. Very little attempt had been made to make it look attractive. In fact, Gwen had always imagined it had been designed by angry robots.

The only thing uglier than the outside of the Hoover Building was the inside. The hallways always seemed stale and urine yellow looking, no matter how well they were lit, and they wound around into dead-ends like a maze. Gwen took a few steps in one direction and stopped.

The room numbers were equally enigmatic.

After a few twists and turns she arrived at room AA4114-201c and paused. The bakelite plaque announced that AA4114-201c was Interior Audit Administration. That might waht she wanted. She knocked at the door. There was no answer, just the hollow sound of wood beneath her knuckles.

Attached to the doorframe was a keypad and a pass reader. When that brought no results, she unclipped her badge and stared at it. Overlaying the skillfully bland photograph was a twinkly gold-coloured "V". Along the side ran a tiny magnetized strip. Without any thought, Gwen took her card and swiped it in the pass reader.

A little green light soundlessly flinked on. She moved to go and then hesitated. This would surely be a gross misuse of her high security clearance. The visitor's pass was given to her in good faith. Already she had stolen a videotape, a flagrant abuse of her privileges. She wondered if this were the beginning of a life of crime.

She tugged the heavy door open.

Office AA4114-201c was bare.

The lights were off and the windows dirt-streaked and shrouded with dusty old green curtains. Gwen quickly pulled the door closed behind her, the breeze chasing dust bunnies the size of tumbleweeds across the old linoleum into the corners.

At the back of the room, near the windows, a few old desks sat lined up along the back wall. The desks were home to squat black boxes. A slight green glow floated above them, and it swirled slightly as the dust shifted when she moved towards them. For an instant she wondered if they were radioactive.

Atop the desk sat row upon row of dusty fax machines, their luminous green LED displays blinking in wait silently. The backs of the fax machines bled phone cords and wires that ran alongside and spilled off the table onto the floor where they pooled into a big box. As she moved towards it, she heard the dangerous hum of high voltage and stayed away.

As her eyes adjusted further, she saw a door tucked away in the farthest corner of the room. Unthinking, she went to it and tugged it open.

The flickering soft light of twenty computer screens lit up twenty faces a ghostly white. Startled, the ghost faces turned toward her with the uniform choreography of a school of fish.

"Oh sorry!" Gwen gasped. Her dry mouth tasted like dust.

"Please leave." An small man in a suit rose from one of the computers and addressed her.

Gwen clutched her paper. "I need a change to my paycheck-" she said nervously, her tongue too parched to speak. After a moment the robotic faces became real people. They regarded her for a moment with disinterest and turned back to their work.

"I'll have to ask you to leave." The man stepped towards her. He was too short to be menacing but he made up for it with determination to stop her. Peering over his shoulder Gwen saw that the computer nearest her had an enlarged photo of UFO on it.

"I was told that you could make a correction-" she began, her eyes never leaving the picture.

"We can't." The man tried to stand between her and the monitor. The photo of the UFO was identical to Mulder's pictures but with all the fins and gizmos of a low budget 1950s flying saucer. She craned to see what was happening. "You have to leave now."

She stuffed the paper in the man's face, trying to peer over him. "Is this Interior Audit Administration?"

Behind him on another monitor was an news article entitled "US Air Force hires Aliens to Prepare for WW III". Her eyes bugged out.

The man saw her react and placed his hands on her. He began pushing her out the door. "No. We're not. Sorry."

Gwen resisted but he suddenly linked arms with her skillfully and stepped out into the dusty room. The door to the office thudded shut and the ghostly light and luminous faces were gone. He pulled her with ease silently past the tables bearing their sentinel fax machines. Dust swirled around their feet as he dragged her, squirming, away from the adjoining office.

He opened the door that led back into the hallway and shoved her out into the bright flourescent corridor. Strands of mousy hair tumbled out of her loose bun while Gwen had struggled. "We can't help you here," he said courteously enough considering that she had been wrestling with him moments before. He smiled at her, a blank monitor himself, and closed the door.

"Wait, Gwen. What are you telling me?" Mulder paced the floor of his office. "You were roughed up by auditors?"

Gwen stuffed her hair back into her clip. "They're not auditors - why would they need twenty five fax machines?" She sat on a wheeled secretarial chair of Mulder and Scully's. "And what about the UFO photos and article -? Fox, for a moment I thought it was your-" She pointed at the file folder, still on his desk. "Your expose."

Mulder covered his mouth with his hand, lost in thought. After a second he spoke. "How did you know it wasn't mine?"

"The photo was so fake. The headline looked right off of a tabloid newspaper."

Scully frowned. Her orange hair swung. "Well, Mulder, it looks like the World Weekly News got a hold of your big scoop."

Mulder met her gaze. "That's what I'm worried about."

Gwen nodded slowly, a distinct feeling of unease settling about her. "I don't think the people upstairs were auditors."

Mulder was suddenly serious and and his face was drawn. "Take me there."

Minutes later, Gwen was back at room AA 4114-201c slipping her pass through the magnetic strip reader for Mulder.

The green light came on and Mulder looked impressed. "Wow, does this get you backstage at Stones concerts too?" he mumbled, glancing down the empty corridor before pushing into the office. Gwen followed him into the empty room and shut the door. He stood still in the grainy blackness for a moment, drinking in the empty expanse. The rapidly tilting sunlight of the afternoon had given over to dusk and now only the dust itself seemed to light the place. She waited for him to speak.

After a moment she heard him, his voice low and powdery from the dust. "How come Scully and I get the small office? There's nothing here."

"No-" Gwen shook her head at his back in the darkness. "Look harder. Against the wall. Do you see the glow?"

He stepped toward the rank of fax machines. As he moved toward them they took shape in the dimness and Gwen could see that he was taken aback by their number. He paused. "Twenty-five? Gwen, there are at least fifty..." he murmured.

As Gwen drew closer behind him, she made out numerous rows of machines, luminous and alert, blinking quietly in wait.

Suddenly, as if inspired, Mulder looked up over to the wall. He saw the door. "Is that where all the computers you saw were?"

He looked back at her. She nodded.

A crumpled piece of paper lying next to a lonely trashcan caught Gwen's eye, even in the fuzzy dark, and she picked it up. She brought the page close to her face and her eyes darted across it. "Whoops..." Mulder tried the door to the adjoining room. "Can't get in- they've closed shop for today." He was disappointed.

"Mmm." Gwen said, not listening. She was reading the paper she held in her hand.

Mulder turned to her and saw the it. "What did you find?"

"It's your article - kind of." Gwen grimaced and handed it to him.

Mulder smoothed out the paper and stared at it. "'Air Force Hire Aliens to Prepare for World War Three'?" he read incredulously. He looked up at her briefly. "Gwen, I don't think that this-", he broke off and read onwards, his eyes quickly zig-zagging over the article.

In a minute he was done reading. He lifted his head and even in the gloom, Gwen could see his eyes held the smarting sting of truth. "This is too much," he said slowly. "It's my article. Where did you find this?"

Gwen pointed at the floor. His eyes followed her finger. "Next to the wastepaper basket."

Mulder shook his head, a dim look of disbelief on his face. "Everything from my story has been distorted-blown out of proportion-" he stepped back towards the green glow of the fax LED lights. "And they've been sending it to somebody."

"What would auditors be doing with it?"

"I don't know." Mulder quickly began pressing buttons on one of the fax machines. "They're not auditors. Look at this-" He pointed at the small LED screen on the fax. He reached into his inside pocket and withdrew a small pad and pencil. "It's got a speed dial-"

The FBI Librarian regarded Mulder and Gwen skeptically as he gingerly slipped a CD into the d: drive of a hulking computer. "The Reverse Phone Directory is not to be used for personal purposes, you understand." They nodded. "The Bureau does not approve of agents 'borrowing' resources meant for investigation purposes only." The librarian tried again, eyeing Gwen. She smiled, wondering if he had suspected her of stealing.

"Of course."

Mulder was already entering numbers into the computer's database. "813 is the area code for Miami, if I'm not wrong..." He slapped the Enter key.

The CD whirled. Lights went on and off. The hard drive cackled. Words appeared on the screen. "The 'Weekly World News'?!" Gwen blurted.

Mulder squinted at it. "They re-wrote my expose and sent it to a tabloid?" He typed another phone number from the list. The machine whirred and spat up another address.

Gwen blinked. 'The National Examiner'?"

Mulder grimaced. "Ugh." He entered another phone number. The computer worked its magic. "'News of The World"?" Mulder choked.

"Trash," Gwen muttered, rolling her eyes.

More numbers were entered.

"'The New York Post'?"

"Oh God."

"The 'sun'?"

Mulder and Gwen looked at one another. "I can't believe how many lousy tabloids there are out there-" Gwen began. Mulder scrunched up his face in disgust and was about to reply when a cell phone phone chirped insistently. The librarian looked up at the sound.

He took the phone out of his pocket and snapped it to his ear. "What'd you find?"

"There is no section called Interior Audit Administration. Everybody I've spoken to thinks I'm pulling their leg."

Mulder turned to Gwen, illuminated in the flickering grey light of the monitor. "I saw the plate outside the door, Scully. Try calling the Bureau Information Desk."

"That was the first place I tried." Scully sighed. "There was nobody there that remembers being asked about returning a paycheck."

Mulder looked up.

The librarian was standing there, arms folded. "Is this 'research' for the purpose of an investigation?"

Mulder brought the phone away from his ear. "Potentially." He tried to sound official. The librarian grabbed the sheet with the telephone numbers away from Gwen and gazed at the list of disreputable newspapers and magazines. He looked at Gwen and then at her visitor's pass. "Are you a specialist involved in this case?"

"Well," Gwen began, and hesitated. The librarian was angry now and turned to Mulder.

"What's the case number of this investigation?"

Mulder blinked. "Well-"

The librarian reached over and ejected the CD Rom from the drive and hit the power button on the computer.

The screen went dark. The whirring stopped. "Who is the head of your division?"

Mulder sighed. "Assistant Director Walter Skinner."

"Very good." The librarian wrote this down. "I suggest you come back here with a case number or a brief overview of your investigation."

"I'll do that." He got up and went out the door quietly, followed by Gwen.

"I can't get a straight answer from anyone about this Interior Audit Administration place." Scully sighed. "Look, are you certain that's what it was called?"

Gwen nodded.

Scully glanced at her notes. "Well, that's interesting because the Bureau insists that they don't HAVE a room AA4114-201c."

Mulder handed her the paper he held in his hand. "Wait til you see what the phone numbers we lifted from the fax machines are-."

Scully scanned the list. "Tabloids?" She blinked in surprise.

"These were the only numbers we could get. We were asked to leave."

Scully frowned "What do you think is going on?"

"I have a worrisome theory, and I know you'll think it's paranoid," Mulder sat on his desk. "But I'm wondering if somebody isn't trying to beat me to the punch."

"To discredit you by trashing your story before it's even hit the press?" Scully's voice was almost admiring. He nodded.

"Yeah, what if they were trying to lodge the idea in people's minds that my story was a hoax? If it got to a tabloid first," he glanced at Scully. "Well, even I'd be skeptical. Then, when I publish the real thing-"

"Nobody'd believe you." Gwen's eyes were wide.

"Spin doctors." Mulder jumped off the desk. "On a grand scale. Right here in the Hoover Building - the people upstairs!"

"That IS paranoid, but Mulder...if that's the case...." Scully said quietly. "They've been controlling public opinion. No wonder no one will own up to anything."

Mulder began to pace nervously. "How many times have they influenced the public's beliefs? How many people have they discredited?" he examined the piece of paper with the telephone numbers on it. "I've got to check these numbers out."

Gwen turned to Mulder, a look of concern beginning to etch itself on her face. "What about the librarian?" she frowned. "Will you get in trouble?"

Mulder shook his head. "No. And if I do, I can explain."

Later that day, amid the humid springtime rush and hurry on Pennsylvania Avenue, Gwen looked for a cab to take her home. This was the second day in a row she had spent at the J. Edgar Hoover Building and was happy to be headed back to her forested refuge. She was looking forward to a long luxurious soak in the bath.

After a few minutes, a taxi appeared amongst the 5:00 traffic. Her mousy hair humidly hanging limp, she stepped forward and hailed it. Like a strange yellow bug, it rushed towards her, cutting across three lanes of traffic. Gwen threw open the door and a blast air conditioning cut through the humidity to her. She climbed in. "You know Hagerstown on the I-70?"

The driver nodded but the car didn't move. Other cars blared their horns as they sat still, double-parked in front of the FBI Headquarters. Gwen followed the driver's gaze. He was looking in the rearview mirror. Someone was getting in the other side.

The door opened and humidity leaked in as a thin man in a suit sat down in the back next to her and closed the door. Gwen hoped she wouldn't have to argue with him about who got the cab first like she always did in New York. The gentleman handed the driver a few 50 dollar bills. "Wait," he said firmly. The driver nodded and stared forwards while the gentleman turned to Gwen. "I won't keep you."

Gwen said nothing. The gentleman's aftershave reminded her of fresh suits and money.

"Listen, you could be in trouble. I want to warn you." He spoke slowly even through the meter was running. She nodded, staring at his bland expensive tie. The gentleman stared outside as the cars drove past them. "You know a lot about the FBI, Gwen-"

She was startled to hear him use her name. Suddenly the air conditioning felt cold. Her bare arms prickled.

"but I think it'd be safer not to pry any more." He examined his cuticles a moment. "You like to fix things. I know that. It's nice to have everybody happy. I agree." He paused and looked at her meaningfully.

"What are you getting at?" Her voice was thin and undernourished.

"Nothing will be accomplished by this, Gwen. Just leave things alone." He reached into his pocket and Gwen thought he had a gun. It was a leather wallet.

"Leave what alone?" she stammered.

The gentleman pulled out yet another fifty and handed it to the driver, who managed to accept it without turning around. "You know the I-70?" The gentleman inquired. The driver nodded. "head for Hagerstown, Maryland."

"Who are you?" Gwen asked softly. The gentleman nodded at her as if he were too modest to say.

"You'll create more problems than you'll solve, Gwen." He tipped a wink at her and stepped out of the cab in a fluid motion. The moment he was gone, the cabbie pulled the car into the traffic's flow and headed for the Interstate.

"Do you know who that was?" Gwen finally asked after they were safely underway.

The cabbie shrugged. "Some guy."

For the third day in a row, Gwen found herself in Mulder and Scully's office. This time it was late in the evening as Gwen had meetings with graduate students at Georgetown all day. It was the usual sort of university fluff. Frazzled and frantic, the students had begged for extensions on their theses and Gwen had given them, her mind still stuck in the cab on Pennsylvania Avenue the day before. But she was more annoyed than shaken.

And now Mulder stood before her, his hands on his hips, in a hurry. It was after-hours and he had planned to go investigate the offices of the Washington Examiner. She had tried to explain but he hadn't understood. She tried again.

"You shouldn't pursue this, Fox. Let it go."

"What are you saying? Do you know what we might have uncovered, Gwen?"

"I understand-" she began.

"No." Mulder shook his head at her. "I don't think you do."

How clear did she have to be with him? "Someone went out of their way to warn me yesterday-"

Mulder blinked. "What did they tell you?"

Gwen rubbed her forehead. She was tired of thinking about it. "They said to leave things alone."

"Of course they'll say that! They don't want us exposing them!" Mulder rolled his head back sarcastically. "Don't you see? We've got them running scared now!"

Gwen took a deep breath. When she spoke next, she was emphatic. "Fox, Listen to me. I don't want you to do this." The words tumbled out of her mouth like heavy concrete slabs.

Mulder froze a minute. "What?"

"I'm telling you this has gone too far," Gwen said firmly. "I made a mistake. Let's just drop the whole thing."

"Did they scare you, Gwen?" Mulder asked softly.

Gwen was angry and she shook her head with a jerk. "No! Listen to me, that's not what I'm saying. I'm telling you that you can't do this."

His face stained with a curious disbelief, Mulder stared at her. He waited a moment before he finally spoke. "This is about my story, Gwen. I'm not about to let go."

"I TOLD you about the people upstairs! I TOLD you about the tabloid articles!-"

"It's MY expose they're trying to discredit!"

"I don't care!" Gwen snapped. "I didn't expect that you'd suddenly start a full-scale investigation over what I told you!" Her hair tumbled out of its thong and she brusquely stuffed it back up.

Mulder turned from her and walked to the back of the room. "What did you think I would do?!" He yelled at the cluttered bulletin boards, his voice bouncing off of the back wall at her.

"I thought-" Gwen began angrily and paused. What did she think? "I thought that you wouldn't betray something I told you in confidence," she said quietly.

Mulder turned to face her. He looked hurt and angry. "Betray you? That's a bit strong, don't you think? I think I'd be betraying EVERYBODY if I didn't expose this!"

Gwen marched up to him and her voice was measured and low. "Don't act like I'M being the selfish one, Fox-"

"The government owes people an explanation about why they've got an office upstairs that has a mandate to spread libellous misinformation."

Gwen smacked her chest. "And what about me? My reputation with the FBI? I've got a job to worry about-"

"I thought you hated working for the Bureau! I'd be doing you a favor!"

"I don't do hostage negotiation to please the FBI-"

she stuttered angrily. "I'll decide when I'M ready to quit, thank you."

Mulder regarded her levelly for a moment, nodding his head in agreement with some private thought. He grabbed his jacket. "Well - I'll decide what I'M going to investigate, thank YOU." He went to the door and turned off the lights in the office, leaving Gwen in the dark.

Gwen seethed in the blackness and Mulder waited, a narrow silhouette at the door to the bright corridor. He looked back into the room. Gwen made no move to go. "Make sure the door locks behind you when you go."

And then he moved into the light.

Late into the empty night, sleep avoided Gwen.

Knowing that she was in a foul mood, drowsiness tiptoed past her and went off in search of a more willing participant. She sat wide awake on her futon in the most silent moments of the night, counting the red hours on her digital clock, wondering about her blow-out with Mulder. It was not natural for her to stay angry at someone for more than a half-hour, but here she was in bed, secretly revelling in how much he had pissed her off. She had tried everything: meditation, yoga, creative visualization, and a million Zen mind-clearing exercises and still sleep and enlightenment evaded her.

At five-o'clock, a silvery-peach dawn stretched over the tips of the trees, bleeding into the last night's leftover sky, and her phone rang.

As her warm bare feet padded over the wooden floors, she caught herself hoping that it was Mulder. As she lifted up the receiver, she realized how much she wanted him to apologize.

It wasn't Mulder. "Gwen Gardiner?" It was a man's voice, low and composed, familiar yet unplaceable. "Yes?"

"It's the fellow you spoke with two days ago." He paused. She said nothing. "In the taxi. On Pennsylvania Avenue."

She sat down. "Oh."

"I hope I didn't wake you. I know it's early, but your friend has gotten himself into some trouble."

"Fox Mulder?" she asked. She wondered why he assumed Mulder was her friend. "Is he alright?"

"Of course he's alright." The gentleman was almost reassuring. "But he's put himself in a bad spot and I thought you should know."

"Thank you." Gwen said robotically. "Is there anything I could do to help him?"

"No." There was a long silence and Gwen wondered what he was doing. "I told you before that if you continued this you were going to cause problems. Now it's happening." Suddenly, the gentleman acted like he was barely within the limits of his patience. "I hope you're prepared."

"You should really be talking to Agent Mulder."

Gwen snarked, the lack of sleep combining with her rotten mood to mix a bitter breakfast. "And don't call me. If you want to talk to me, meet me in person like a real human being!"

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry to have bothered you so early."

"No problem." Gwen said automatically. And regretted that she had brought up so well. "But I can't help you."

"Hm." The gentleman did not sound convinced that this was the case. "That is really all I can say." And then there was dialtone.

Gwen hung up the phone. And what if it was true, what could she do? She had made every effort to stop Mulder and he had gotten himself into trouble anyways. She looked at the clock. It was five-thirty.

She picked up the phone again and dialed. She waited.

"...This is Fox Mulder. Leave a message."

She hung up. Dim early sunlight had creeped into her windows, and she crossed over to her futon. Gwen climbed under the covers and pulled them over her head. Gwen snapped awake four hours of fitful sleep later. In a half-dream an idea had come to her, and it had shaken her out of her doze. She hopped out of her bed with a graceful leap, inspired, and picked up the telephone. She would call Scully at work.

The phone was answered on the first ring. "Scully." She sounded anxious.

"It's Gwen."

"Oh hi Gwen." Scully's mind was clearly elsewhere.

"Is Mulder there this morning?"

There was a pause. "Yes. But he's not in the office right now. Why?"

"I got a call last night telling me he was in trouble. Is he?"

Scully sighed. "Yes. He was caught hanging around the offices of the Washington Examiner. He had sneaked in."

"Oh no." Gwen moaned. "Is it bad?"

Scully said nothing for a moment. "Listen, Gwen I won't be able to talk much - Mulder's going to be back any second. But yes. It's bad. The Examiner is ultra-right and they don't like the Federal Bureau of Investigation looking into their fax transmissions."

"What are they going to do?" Gwen felt her heart sink. How could Mulder be so impudent? "There could be a lawsuit. Skinner's called Mulder in at eleven today. It's not going to be pret-" Scully cut herself off. "Well, I hope that can be of some help to you, Agent Wilson. Goodbye." And she was gone.

At eleven fifteen, Gwen was running out of the elevator onto the fifth floor of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. She screeched into the outer office of Assistant Director Skinner. The secretary looked up.

"I'm sorry Dr. Gardiner, but Assistant Director Skinner is in a very important meeting right now."

Gwen hesitated, looking at the door. "I've got to talk to him."

It was as if the secretary had never heard her. She was flopping open a ledger-sized agenda, turning through the oversized white pages. "If you like, I can put you down for eleven-fifteen tomorrow...?"

"I need to speak with him NOW."

"I understand. " The secretary nodded patiently. "I'll tell him you dropped by. I've been given specific instuctions not to disturb him. " Gwen said nothing. "It's very high-level bureau business. Perhaps I could have him call you when he's done."

Shaking her head, Gwen went to the door of Skinner's office. "No, that won't be necessary, thank you...." she said and pushed herself in.

Interrupted, the three men's heads snapped whiplash-fast to look at her. Layers of smoke hung thick and blue in the still orange sunlight that flooded Skinner's office and they wore co-ordinated expressions of guilty fear, which they erased.

Skinner, who was standing very close to Mulder in the center of the room, caught in the act disciplining, was the first to speak.

"We're busy Gwen," he said firmly, but there was no power behind his voice.

Over in the corner, Gwen saw the red flash of a cigarette end flare brighter and a cloud of smoke rise up from a man in a dark grey suit. Mulder looked at the floor, passive.

"I know. I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I think you're wrong to be punishing Agent Mulder," Gwen began. Today there was something in Walter Skinner's eyes that was different and it worried her.

"And why is that?" Skinner asked, his voice hard.

He stepped away from Mulder and towards her. As he drew near, she saw that his expression was soft and compassionate. It threw her.

"Well, I uh...well..." she began, trying to read his expression. He was signalling her somehow, holding her gaze.

"Can you tell me why that is? Why I shouldn't be disiciplining Agent Mulder after he was nearly arrested for trepassing at offices of the Washington Examiner? Is there something I should know?" He was brusque with her.

"There's something going on there, Walter. I keep being contacted by a someone who tells me I'm in danger," she said at last. Another puff of smoke was exhaled from the corner.

Skinner was nodding imperceptably at her, egging her on. "And you think this person is from the Washington Examiner?" His voice was skeptical.

Gwen frowned. "I don't know. I think so, maybe." Gwen didn't think he was from the Examiner but it might save Mulder's job. "And so I told Mulder about it, and asked him to help me."

Skinner's eyes smiled softly at her and he whipped around to face Mulder, his hands on his hips. "Is this the truth, Mulder?"

Mulder continued to look at the floor. "No," he said tonelessly. Gwen's heart sank into her feet. What was Mulder doing?

The Assistant Director turned back to Gwen.

"What's going on?"

Gwen shrugged and prayed that Mulder would wise up. "He's lying."

Mulder looked up at her, bemused. "Sir-" he began.

Skinner shook his head at Mulder, a quick, jerky motion. "Listen Mulder," he said angrily. "It's very noble of you to try to assist Dr. Gardiner, but if she wants any investigations she'll have to go through the regular channels and post a complaint to the FBI like anybody else."

Mulder blinked, chastised and confused. "Yes, sir."

The man in the corner extinguished his cigarette and stepped out into the light. He walked up to Skinner and stared at him levelly a moment. "I don't like this," he said, annoyed. He pulled out a pack of Morleys from his jacket and slipped a cigarette between his lips. Skinner's lips curled in disdain.

"You don't have to like it."

A match was snapped and brought fizzing up to meet his cigarette. He inhaled pensively. Sulfur smell swirled through the air. "You're wrong," he slowly exhaled the smoke into Skinner's face and walked to the door. On the way, he stopped at Gwen, who was staring at him in disgust. He puffed a little smoke at her. "You're wrong."

He smiled craggily at her and left. When she looked over to Skinner, he looked upset. The door creaked shut. Even though he still looked shaken, Gwen wondered if there wasn't a hint of relieved triumph on the Assistant Director's face. When he spoke, his tone was less harsh.

"All right Gwen. Thank you for that clarification."

He looked at Mulder, who had straightened up from his slouched position. "But Agent Mulder and I still have some things to discuss about procedure." His eyes beamed a gratitude that the stern line of his mouth refused to reveal. He turned away.

Nodding, Gwen grabbed the doorhandle. She was suddenly hotly aware of how impetuous she had been to interrupt. "Sorry to disturb you, Walter," she said sheepishly and left the office.

Skinner watched the door slowly drift shut for a minute and then turned to Mulder. "I just want you to know, Agent Mulder, that for the record I do not believe a thing of what Dr. Gardiner said." He ground his teeth. "BUT, tell me how you managed to involve the Bureau's hostage negotiator in all of this?"

Mulder shook his head. "Believe it or not, she-"

Skinner cut him off. "Did you have reason to anticipate a hostage situation?"

Pausing a second, Mulder realized what Skinner was after. "No."

"Did Dr. Gardiner come to you for help?"

"No."

"You're investigating the Washington Examiner of your own volition."

"Yes," Mulder said finally.

The Assistant Director turned away and faced out of the window, looking down at the street below. "I had a feeling that was the case." he replied, his voice heavy. He said nothing, lost in thought.

Mulder stepped forward. "You hate him, don't you? That bastard with the cigarettes. He's told you not to go through with this..."

Skinner did not answer. Mulder continued. "He's involved in this somehow, isn't he? Look, let me investigate this. Something's going on upstairs and he's involved-"

"Agent Mulder, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. The Washington Examiner is threatening to file a suit against the FBI-" Skinner spat the words at him, suddenly angry.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about!"

Mulder shouted back. Skinner stuck his chin out at him and made no comment. "I'm talking about that smoking bastard- what does he want out of this? Silence? Does he have that much power over you?"

Skinner shook his head and stepped close to Mulder. His eyes were brimming with a carefully controlled rage. "Be careful what you say Mulder..." his voice was low and tight, overflowing with threat.

"I know," he said quietly. "I'm saying that if Gwen did make a complaint, we could investigate this without the order having come from you."

Skinner continued to look angry. "I don't want Gwen involved."

"She wouldn't have to be - all we'd need is a complaint filed with her permiss-"

"I don't want her involved." Skinner snapped and turned away from him, walking over to his desk. "I know that there are a lot of unanswered questions, but I'm afraid the way I am to treat this situation has been spelled out clearly to me. I'm telling you to drop it."

"What if she decided to file a complaint against the man who has been harrassing her?"

"That's a job for the police." Skinner pulled a file out from his desk drawer and flipped it open. "What if she thought the FBI were involved-?"

Skinner pulled out a pen and started writing in the file. "Then we'd have to investigate." He did not look up. "Thank-you Agent Mulder. That will be all."

A day of utter silence passed, and Gwen had sat at home wondering what she used to do with herself before she had started taking daily cab rides to Washington. Her beautiful new home, a zen styled retreat, seemed spartan and spare, and instead of being the calm haven she had intended it to be, it was a boring empty motel. No phones rang, nobody visited, not even any mail marred the monotony. Even her beloved forest view offered no distraction.

Just as her nerves had started to settle, and she snuggled back into her old ways, Mulder showed up at her door with a box of chocolates and an apology. She had accepted these graciously, and was halfway through the box of chocolates when Mulder produced a form he wanted her to sign. He explained that he was certain the the people upstairs were involved in illegal activities. He explained that the man smoking in the Assistant Director's office that day was ordering Skinner not to investigate. He explained that if he were to investigate the goings on in office AA4114-201c, he would need her to sign a complaint against the FBI.

Gwen signed it, and they were off to the Hoover Building again. The elevator doors rumbled open quietly at the ninth floor and they stepped softly into the hall. As usual, it was deserted.

They proceeded towards room AA4114-201c in silence and nearly missed the doorway. The bakelite plaque had been taken down. Mulder passed his hand smoothly over where it used to be. "It's clean," he said under his breath. "they've painted over the spot."

Gwen nodded and tried the door. She shook her head at him, handing him her security pass. Mulder nodded at her and slipped it through. The green light came on. He swung the door open.

The afternoon light caught the dancing dust in the air as it swirled in large transparent clouds and they were enveloped in it as they entered. Mulder turned to Gwen, a halo of dusty sunlight circling his head. "All you have to do is identify the man who you met in the cab. Nothing more, okay?" he whispered. She nodded and they walked over to the entranceway to the adjoining room, past all the banks of fax machines.

Gwen stepped up to the door and tried it, expecting it to be locked. Instead it swung open in a wide arc, swiping past her and Mulder, nearly knocking them off-balance. The ghostly faces at the computers pivoted around to them mechanically. Gwen and Mulder were buffeted by a gust of warm air, the soft wind of machinery humming in a confined enviroment. The faces regarded them with a nonchalant inquisitiveness.

The room had no light source except the subtle pallor of monitor glow and its reflection on the bleached, moon-like faces of the workers.

As if on a programmed cue, the same small pale man rose up from the center of them like a ghost. "You don't belong here." The next second, he was in front of them with the eerie nimbleness that short people have. "Please leave-" he tried to crowd them out the door, leaning into Mulder. Mulder wouldn't budge.

"What's going on?" he demanded. Each flickering computer ran a dim article, its title hanging in the whiteness of the screen. His eyes fell to a headline that read "Inmates' Deadly Virus Hoax". 'I'm Carrying a Martian's Love Child' trumpeted another article. Gwen pointed to it, hanging in the wavering light of the monitor. "What are you people doing?"

The workers angled their monitors away from Mulder and Gwen's view and the circle of cloudy light became tighter.

"I said please leave. Please leave now." The man grabbed Mulder's jacket and tried to shove him out of the door. He only succeeding in ramming Mulder into Gwen, who fell against the doorframe.

"Let's go...." Gwen began. Mulder snapped out his identification.

"I'm with the FBI. Who are you with?" he asked. "What are these computers for?"

The small man pulled a gun out of his jacket. It seemed impossibly large for his tiny, doll-like hands but he was fearless. He held it on them unwaveringly. Gwen and Mulder froze. "Data entry. Now get out."

Mulder raised his hands slowly. Gwen followed suit.

"Put the gun down. It's all right." The gentleman in the suit stepped forwards out of a dark corner into the luminous circle. The gun was lowered reluctantly and the man hesitated before withdrawing to his own glowing terminal.

"Who are you?" Mulder dropped his hands cautiously, like they were weights too heavy to release.

"It's him," Gwen said simply.

The gentleman smiled modestly. "Yes. I see you've dropped by yet again, despite my efforts." He beckoned for them to enter the room and neither of them moved.

"It's time we discussed what this is all about," he said casually. Every pair of eyes in the room rested on Gwen and Mulder. She could feel their suffocating weight. "I really think I should explain some things to you both. That way you'll understand."

"What are you doing with my expose?" Mulder countered softly, unmoving.

The gentleman shook his head. "I'd like to explain-"

"Explain it to us here."

"Please. I assure your safety."

Gwen came towards the man. "Tell me your name then."

The gentleman reached inside his jacket and flipped open a leatherette case. He held it up for Mulder and Gwen to see it. A badge shone dimly in the light. "Special Agent Jeffery Howse. I am with the FBI."

Mulder joined Gwen at his side and examined his I.D.

"I'm willing to tell the truth," he said simply and retreated deeper into the room, pocketing his badge. They followed him.

He stopped in front of a monitor where a woman was busily altering a mugshot of a nameless criminal. "I'm sure you've taken the tour here at the Hoover Building, Agent Mulder. You know that we alter photographs to aid in our investigations, adding years, changing haircuts, anything to jog a witnesses memory so we can catch the offender."

Gwen shook her head. "Then why would you need to alter Fox's photo of the UFO?"

"Because it WASN'T a UFO." The gentleman's voice was hushed so as not to disturb the woman doing the photo altering. He took a deep breath. "Let me explain..."

He walked with them over to a dark corner of the room. "The public is bombarded by information almost every waking moment of their day. Sometimes there is data that they're not 'ready' for, sensitive issues-"

"The government's tests at Ellen's Airforce Base?" Mulder spat incredulously.

The gentleman nodded sagely. "Exactly. They won't be able to handle that information, and until they have a chance to be correctly informed, we have to do a certain amount of damage control."

"THAT's damage control?" Gwen blinked.

"We respect the right to freedom of speech. The First Amendment supports the inalienable-"

Mulder was angry. "But spreading lies and misinformation is fine? Defamation of character is all right?"

The gentleman turned and stared at Mulder. "Perhaps I'm not being clear. We are talking about knowledge of information that is potentially dangerous to the citizenry-"

"Are you saying that in the public's hands knowledge is dangerous?" Gwen cried. "Who are you to decide what's dangerous?"

"Imagine for a moment that you live on a farm in Iowa. You hear that the President is dying, that he has a fatal disease, that he's incapacitated somehow. You would be worried, frightened even, that the entire country might turn to anarchy. What if some country picked this moment to declare war on us? The country would be paralyzed." He nodded at them. "But, WE know that that wouldn't be the case. We would know that despite whatever became of the President, there would be many capable people who could take over for him. There would be no cause for panic."

"Depends who the people taking over were..." Mulder muttered beneath his breath.

The gentleman ploughed through Mulder's comment. "But do you see that if we don't reassure every single person that there is no danger, latent grounds for terrorism and anarchy would spring up everywhere! So, without interfering with the right of people to print and read potentially sensitive issues, we can 'soften' the message, thus avoiding any unfortunate situations."

"Are you doing this to protect them or you?" Mulder snapped.

"For everybody. For everybody. Look at Watergate."

Mulder sneered. "I am."

The gentleman turned to Gwen. "It was a simple, petty crime. A case of political snooping..."

Gwen frowned. "Well..."

"What about the giant cover-up?" Mulder interjected.

"That's my point. Look at the mess it caused. The public lost faith in the people they had elected. It destabilized the country for years, and we're still trying to make up for that damage. Where would this country be now if it weren't for Watergate?" The gentleman sounded almost wistful.

Gwen shook her head. "In my mind, we'd still be governed by crooks."

"I'm sorry to disillusion you, Dr. Gardiner, but that type of thing goes on all the time. Politics is a dirty game and people need to be kept out of it-"

Mulder shook his head. "I can't believe you're saying this."

"Your article is too sensitive for the public, Agent Mulder. We have to take precautions."

"You can't do that-"

"We can. And you should be thankful this isn't China or some little South American dictatorship! You'd be in an unmarked grave now. And who knows?" He looked meaningfully at Mulder. "You SEEM to think that it is. Be careful what you wish for...."

"You pompous son of a bitch..." Mulder hissed.

"Watch who you call names." The gentleman was angry. "I'm protecting the people, Agent Mulder. Not you."

Mulder turned to face the gentleman. "Is that a threat?"

"We don't need to discredit you, Agent Mulder, you're already a laughingstock. Your articles in Omni magazine-"

Before Gwen knew what was happening, Mulder was flying across, face screwed into a tight expression of hatred, his arm swinging out and over. He landed a solid punch in the gentleman's jaw with the weight of his entire body. A bloody white tooth ricocheted off of a nearby monitor.

Suddenly struck, the gentleman tumbled backwards into one of the computer operators, sending them rolling into one another, a chain reaction. He struck the floor with a hollow echoing crack that was most probably his tailbone, his arms and legs scrambling to get up before he had even landed, a grey flannel turtle tossed backwards onto his tailored shell.

Gwen stumbled back and fell against one of the desks, her hands flailing for stability, and landing palm down on the keyboard of one of the computers. An incessant, protesting beep came from the machine and several error warnings flashed onscreen, vying with each other for precedence.

A few of the operators jumped to the gentleman's aid, restraining Mulder, and the gentleman got up, his combed hair askew, and flew his fists into Mulder's belly. The operators streched Mulder taut like an open canvas. With each punch he crumpled at the knees.

Gwen snatched up the keyboard that she was leaning on and fought off the hands that tried to grab it away from her. With a swift tight yank she'd disconnected it and it was soaring through the air towards the gentleman's head. It caught him on the shoulder, right on the bone, interrupting him. He turned around. "Stop!!!" she screeched.

Mulder used the moment's hesitation to bring his legs up and kick the gentleman from behind like a mule. He soared toward a wheeled chair and ended hung up over it, still rolling. The computer operators and their pasty faces clambered away from their stations and huddled together in a corner, eerily silent, watching the fracas without comment.

"Fox! Stop this!" Gwen bellowed, an angry schoolmarm. no one moved to touch her and she went to Mulder's side, where he was being roughly held aloft by two of the workers. "Come on, let go of him!" she snapped at his agressors.

Mulder, hurt and bruised, was slowly released. He stood there, panting for air, clutching his stomach with his bloodied hand. He hadn't seen Gwen so murderously angry since she'd quarrelled with Burton.

"You're absolutely brilliant, do you know that?!" she bellowed at him and turned to the gentleman lying draped over the chair, skating around on the floor. She brusquely helped him to stand, hanging on to his arm. Blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth and left dark spots on his perfect grey suit. The two men stared at each other like animals. The room was silent, Gwen's words hanging in the darkness still.

"Well..." the gentleman said eventually, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think everybody got their licks, didn't they?"

Without warning, Mulder lunged across the room at a computer and threw a blinking montior to the floor. There was a small explosion and glass shattered out over the floor like water, smoke drifting up idly. He turned on another computer and had knocked that over before anybody could react.

"Mulder!" Gwen ran to restrain him. "Don't!" The glass sparkled on the floor like a broken mosaic in the dim light and one of the computer operators caught her and held her back.

The gentleman drew his gun with precision. "Leave that alone." The gentleman's voice was firm and confident. Mulder paused, his back to him. "Let me promise you that this gun is loaded."

Mulder did not reply, his shoulders slumping slightly. Gwen did not struggle with the man who restrained her. The gentleman stepped over to Mulder.

"I understand how you can be frustrated with the "system", Agent Mulder, but this is something that cannot be altered. It is a needed and valued service. It has been here through wars and elections, the changing of the guard, and we are not about to be stopped by you." He waited for a reply.

The gentleman accepted Mulder's bruised silence as an answer and took Gwen's arm firmly, gently pushing her at him. "You've embarrassed yourself badly. Get out."

A day later, Gwen presented herself to the secretary of Assistant Director Skinner, a self-conscious grin teetering on her mouth. Before she could make her case, the secretary had nodded her to Skinner's door, keeping a discreet and respectful silence.

Gwen pushed the door open a few inches and stuck her head in. Skinner was seated behind his desk, Mulder sitting sullenly in front of him. She opened her mouth, an apology pursed on her lips and Skinner spoke, cutting her off.

"We've been expecting you, Dr. Gardiner." His voice was expressionless.

She shook her head at him, still trying to apologize. "Walt, I-"

"Come in." he nodded at the doorway. "Close the door."

She stepped into the room, dutifully pulling the door into place behind her. "You know, of course, that this is entirely off the record," Skinner began. Gwen nodded, unsettled by his pointed formality.

Skinner picked up a white sheet of paper and read off of it. "You are aware that Agent Mulder 'assaulted an agent on Federal Property, interfered with the Bureau's activities, harrassed employees and willfully tampered and destroyed equipment belonging to the FBI', among other things?"

Gwen bobbled her head, nodding and shaking it at the same time. "More or less," she admitted. Mulder stared ahead, mute. Skinner waited for her to continue. She did not. "And you were present during all of this?" he began after a second's pause.

She regarded him levelly. "I was. Are there charges against me too?"

Skinner stood up. "No," he said finally. "I've called you here to inform you that this is where your association with this case, whatever it was, is over."

"But-" Gwen started.

Skinner ground his teeth. "I think we have to put our own spin on this. We're going to pretend that you were never involved."

Gwen looked to Mulder. "But Mulder, you know I-"

Mulder shook his head at her. "No Gwen. Assistant Director Skinner and I decided this between us. We're not going to connect you to all of this."

"You decided? I was there! I ordered the whole investigation-"

"No, Gwen. You didn't." Skinner was emphatic. He snapped up a piece of paper off of his desk. "This is the complaint that Agent Mulder brought to you-"

Gwen snatched the paper from him, angry. She waved the paper at them. "I signed it. Right there." She spoke quickly, her voice high and wavering. "You're not going to say that I'm not involved in this, Walter. Don't protect me. This is my responsibility."

Skinner stood up and took the other end of the contract that she held. "No. It's mine." He lightly tugged the form from her grasp. "I authorized Mulder to take this to you."

Mulder's mouth opened, a dissent half-formed on his lips.

Skinner cut him off, his voice low and controlled. "In certain situations, the buck has to stop somewhere. And in this case, it's me."

"Oh please!" Gwen cried in frustration. Both men stared at her, expressionless. "You don't know what you're saying!"

"The responsibility of this falls to me, Gwen. Charges have been laid. I can censure Agent Mulder for his involvement, but I am not about to drag in a third party, and certainly not someone who is as respected within the Bureau as you. I can't touch you. I wouldn't. I won't. That's that." Skinner nodded to Mulder. "Agent Mulder-," he said, indicating the piece of paper.

Mulder tore the form into several small pieces and then tore those up. The Assistant Director held the trash basket out to him and Mulder sprinkled the paper into it like confetti.

"You are no longer connected with this or any investigation of the offices of the ninth floor, Dr. Gardiner."

Skinner replaced the trashcan and sat down at his desk. He laid his hands flat on the blotter and spoke at them. " What's left is between Agent Mulder and I. Bureau business."

Gwen sleepwalked towards the door, her mind reeling. Her damp hand closed around the cold metal of the doorknob.

Mulder looked up after her. "I appreciate your help, Gwen."

She nodded dumbly and left.

Gwen had wandered in and out of the Hoover building's pallid and maze-like corridors for a while, not wanting to leave. She knew her distant abode would not provide the remedy to the malaise that had seized her. Instead she roamed in and out of hallways and offices, a vague look on her face, feeling homeless and disjointed.

She had barely understood the subtext of her meeting with Skinner and Mulder, and she replayed the scene again and again in her head. She had fought so long and hard to keep herself out of Mulder's crusade that now that she had been barred from it, she was hurt.

Then, in a flash of inspiration, riding up in the elevator, she had reached through and between the other agents that stood between her and the buttons and jabbed at "B" violently. The basement. Her fellow passengers tried not to stare at her and gawked instead at the numbers lighting up over the door like they'd never seen anything like it.

The elevator had emptied out by the time it had sunk to the subterranean level. Even the doors seemed to open reluctantly, but Gwen strode out and managed to retrace her way to Mulder and Scully's office. Scully was there when she arrived, sitting amidst a stack of reports. She looked up and Gwen could see she'd been worrying.

"Hello Gwen." she smiled weakly. She looked pale.

"Mulder's in a meeting with-"

"A.D. Skinner. I know." Gwen went and sat down opposite her. "I was just there."

Scully made a grimacing smile, her lipstick the darkest thing on her face. "How was it going?"

Gwen shrugged. "I can't tell. Walter was pretty tightlipped."

Scully sighed and folded her file shut. "I'm worried."

She bit her lip and stared off. Gwen said nothing. "I'm worried that he'll go and get himself fired. I'm worried that he'll push Skinner too far." She looked down a moment. "I know. I tried to explain how everything happened but... I don't know. I didn't get a chance."

Scully nodded sagely, her orange hair bobbing. "You were against Mulder's involvement from the beginning - do you think that Skinner is angry at you? Will that jeopardize your visits with the assistant directors?"

"I don't think so." She bit her lip. "He was trying to protect me, somehow. But he wasn't pleased, and he was quite...quite...." Gwen trailed off dubiously, lost at how to explain Skinner's harsh forgiveness. Scully seemed to know, though.

"Yes." She smiled wanly. "His manner of questioning can be tough. He's precise." Scully looked at her hands for a second. "But he's fair."

Gwen nodded in agreement.

Scully looked away and Gwen knew she was concerned about Mulder. "Did he really hit someone?"

Scully asked suddenly, and Gwen knew who she was talking about.

"Yeah." She took a deep breath. "And they hit back. It was a brawl. Mulder started it for certain, but nobody behaved like a gentleman. Did someone reallly press charges?"

Her mouth hung open for a minute with no answer, and then Scully began again. "Yes. I can't-" she cut herself off sharply and took a deep breath. "I can't lose him, Gwen," she said at last and seemed to fret herself a shade paler.

Gwen got up and grabbed Scully's mug off of her desk. She disappeared for a moment to the coffee-maker, leaving Scully to clear her emotions, and refilled her cup.

She took her time getting back to her with the coffee, acting like she was trying hard not to spill, and when she returned, Scully had pulled herself together.

"I know he's important to you..." Gwen murmured softly. Scully nodded.

"Yes." She accepted the coffee from Gwen and took a deep sip. "An important friend."

"Just a friend?" Gwen asked quickly and it prompted the expected reaction. Scully's cheeks glowed imperceptibly pinker and she blinked a few times in mock digust.

"Mulder-?" Scully's voice was incredulous. Her eyes twinkled and she suppressed a grin. "You've got to be kidding...!"

Relief flooded through Gwen at seeing Scully's morose mood lighten. "Why not?"

"You've been at me about this since day one!"

Scully laughed merrily. "You date him!"

"Not my type."

"Oh right."

"Seriously."

Soon the two women were bantering and laughing like high-school girls, and Gwen delighted to see Scully relax a little. In her heart, she was worried for Mulder as well, but she could see that Scully clearly had more to be thrown about.

Then during a sudden gale of laughter, light and lilting, the door opened and Mulder stormed in. Frustration radiated off him like heat and it fell like a bucketful of damp sand on Gwen and Scully's crackling mirth. The giggles and retorts plummeted soundlessly from their lips as they watched him march to his desk and unpin the poster that had hung behind him so long. He rolled it up briskly, his expression twisted with anger, the paper rattling like thunder.

The words "I Want To Believe" were the last to disappear and then they too were snapped up.

Scully was the first on her feet. She went over to Mulder and caught his arm. "Mulder, what happened?"

His expression black, Mulder slipped from her grasp and pulled down a cardboard box from atop the filing cabinet. "With Skinner?" He sat down at his desk and yanked open the top drawer. "It's 'wait and see'."

Gwen stood up as well. "Wait and see what? What's there to know?"

Mulder threw the contents of the drawer with haphazard bitterness into the box. "'Censure, suspension and potential reinstatment upon recognizance of my inappropriate behavior'." He tossed a ufo-shaped pencil sharpener into the box.

"Oh God, Mulder..." Scully moaned weakly. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to quit," he said and pulled the second drawer of the desk open. This time he tugged it free of the desk and turned it upside-down, emptying it over the box. "Maybe the Lone Gunmen'll give me a job."

With his other hand he snatched his expose off of his desk and threw it towards Gwen. The glossy photos fluttered out and slid over the floor. Gwen caught the article itself.

"I can't believe that Assistant Director Skinner would leave you with no option-" she stammered, clutching the paper with one hand and picking up the photographs with the other.

"Believe it. He can't touch you, Gwen. He's not your boss." Mulder sat back in his chair a moment, running his hands over his face. "Wait and see or don't wait at all."

Scully was still in shock and she stood as if bolted to the ground. "Mulder - what about the people upstairs, all the fake stories, your expose-? You're just going to leave?"

Mulder stared at her levelly for what seemed like an interminable amount of time, saying nothing. Gwen had the feeling that somewhere deep within him a small churning reaction was happening, but his expression was blank and unchanging. Scully did not move.

Then suddenly, as if he were made of elastic, he snapped a pen to his desk and tugged out a sheaf of paper. A hand groped for his glasses, sitting atop his inbox and they were blindly set on his face. "You're right, Scully." He set to writing.

Scully looked to Gwen, slightly mystfied.

As if unaware that anyone else was in the room with him, Mulder began to read as he wrote. "'To the Editors of the Washington Post. Dear sirs, I have been forced to resign my post as an Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. In the course of my investigations I have gained knowledge of government activities designed to shamelessly manipulate public opinion..." Mulder's eyebrows were knotted with determination as he wrote, mumbling softly to himself.

Gwen glanced over at Scully. She stood there helplessly, watching Mulder scribble, her arms dangling loose by her side. Her expression was sorrowful, her lips were parted slightly, as if she were still about to say something.

"I'd better go..." Gwen murmured softly to the woman standing next to her. Scully's eyes did not leave the top of Mulder's head nor did the agonizingly pained look waver on her face. "Let me know what happens...." She shuffled towards the door.

Mulder wrote like a madman seized with divine inspiration, and Gwen saw a bead of perspiration twinkle on his forehead. "Look out for my letter...." he said, an absentminded parting shot.

As she reached the door of the office, she glanced down at her hand. She still held Mulder's article and photographs. "Oh Fox, your expose-"

Mulder broke his delirium for a moment to look at Gwen, barely taking the pen from the paper. "Keep it." He dropped his head back to his composition. His pen resumed its scratching. "It's old news now...."

Gwen smiled wistfully, but no one saw it. The scene in the room was disjointed and bizarre. Mulder sat hunched over at his desk, scribbling furiously, like an inventor on the precipice of a new creation, and Scully stood numbly watching, a wax statue of herself, unmoving, transfixed with dismay.

Frowning, Gwen turned her back on them and went quietly. no one noticed her leave.

In her deserted, forested refuge, sandwiched between mountains and sky, Gwen quietly remained. Days passed silently, and she managed to wade through a sea of theses, losing herself in lengthy arguments, distancing herself from the events of the days before.

Although she was happy to reimmerse herself into her work for the university, Gwen could not put her experience at the Hoover Building behind her. She worried about Mulder and Scully, and existed in anxious fear of Mulder's resignation. Regardless of what Skinner had done to nominally erase her participation, nothing eased the feeling that the fault of it all was somehow hers. Daily, in

the calm stretch of early morning, Gwen would awake, dress, and march to the edge of her property in the golden dew to retrieve her morning paper. Then, over herbal tea in the kitchen, the new sun reaching through her large windows, she would search the paper, section by section, page by page, to find Mulder's letter.

For the first four days after she had been requested into Assistant Director Skinner's office, there was no sign of anything from Mulder in the Washington Post. Then, at last, on the fifth day, she finally found it.

There, sitting demurely at the bottom of page G-12, was a short letter entitled "FBI's media conduct misleading".

Gwen dribbled tea down her chin in her excitement and snatched up the paper, reading voraciously. She blindly grabbed her dish cloth and dabbed at her chin. Her eyes sawed back and forth over the article, and gradually, she let the dish towel drop, her eyes widening.

"Huh?" she said aloud, rising to her feet, her incredulous voice ringing off her bare walls. She moved towards the stairs, still reading, picked up the phone, and hit the speed-dial for the Hagerstown Uneeda Cab company. It was noontime in Washington when Gwen stepped out of her taxi on Pennsylvania Avenue, the heat and humanity swirling around her as she paid the driver. Her long cotton skirt billowing lazily around her legs, she dashed up the front steps of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, pushing past the immaculate agents in suits heading out for their lunch hour.

She pulled her visitor's pass out of her straw shoulder bag, clipping it to her blouse self-consciously as she moved towards the security station. She signed in, walked through the bleeper and retrieved her folded copy of the Washington Post from the X-Ray machine tray.

Instead of waiting endlessly for an elevator going to the basement, she slipped into the stairwell and jogged down.

When she arrived at the end of the narrow and damp hallway, the door to Mulder and Scully's office was shut tight. Gwen hesitated, suddenly imagining the door swinging open and seeing the office dark and bare, nothing left but two empty desks sitting alone in the dust. The image profoundly saddened her, and she caught her breath for a moment.

At that instant, the door flew open and Mulder, about to stride into Gwen, stopped short. "Gwen!" he cried, grabbing the doorframe for support as he nearly slid into her. He wore a small shoulderbag and his coat was over his arm. "Look, I've got to get-"

She didn't wait. She held the newspaper up to him. "Fox - is this what they did to your letter?"

He took the paper from her and glanced at it briefly. "Yep." he grimaced. "For a full transcipt of 'FBI's Media Conduct Misleading' write to me at-"

"But what is this?" Gwen cried. "'Misleading'? What about illegal! How could they-?"

Mulder patted Gwen's shoulder. "Look, Gwen, Scully and I have to be on a commuter flight to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania in a half-hour-"

Gwen saw his lips moving but she didn't hear him. "Nobody cared? What about CNN? What about Sixty Minutes? The foreign press? Didn't anybody-?"

Mulder shook his head at her. "No."

The lights in the office went out and Scully came to the door. She smiled wearily at Gwen. Even though she looked tired, the haunted look she wore the last time they had met had disppeared. "Hello Gwen, you caught us on our way out."

Gwen was still a subject behind. "And Assistant Director Skinner didn't suspend you...?"

"I'm still here..." An ironic grin twisted Mulder's mouth. He glanced back into the office. "Hang on-" He ducked back into the darkened office and pulled something off of his desk.

Scully looked at her watch. "Mulder, hurry up.

We're going to miss our-"

"Yeah." Mulder re-appeared in the doorway to the office with a newspaper in his hand. He handed it to Gwen. "Here, you can read this while we're away. It's an advance layout copy of tomorrow's Washington Post. It was given to me, now I give it to you. Enjoy." He touched the side of his nose and then headed briskly off down the hall. Scully nodded at Gwen. "Sorry we couldn't talk-" she began.

Gwen opened her mouth to say something but Mulder interrupted her.

"Hey Scully, come on, you're making us late!"

Scully groaned apologetically and waved at Gwen. "See you-" She turned and ran after Mulder, her hollow footsteps ringing down the hallway.

Gwen stared after them, a thousand questions still in her mouth. She looked at the newspaper blankly. Indeed it was the next day's paper with empty squares where some articles would be and gibberish for headlines. The weekly columns existed in their proper formats, and only one headline and photo on the front page was complete. It was the second story.

"FBI Opens Doors to Media" was the header.

"Today the FBI unveils its new open-door media policy," Gwen read, "designed to facilitate communication between the public and the Bureau. Jeffery Howse, Associate Director of Media Relations, explains: 'Up to now, the public has been kept outside of most of the Bureau's business. Sometimes they are confused about the nature of our work. We recognize the important role that the citizenry plays in our investigations. With their help, many criminals have been brought to justice and it is imperative that they be kept abreast of our activities.' Howse proudly boasts of a new 250 line faxing system that will allow the FBI to notify media outlets at a moment's notice-"

Gwen quickly folded the paper under her arm as if it contained dirty photos. She ran to the elevator.

On the fifth floor of the J.Edgar Hoover Building, Gwen was addressing herself to Assistant Director Skinner's secretary, trying to schedule an appointment, when Walter Skinner himself emerged from the office.

It was as if he had borrowed Scully's haunted look.

Gaunt and concerned- looking, he nearly walked by Gwen, lost in thought until she held up her hand. "Gwen-" he began, caught off-guard. "You didn't make an appointment-"

She showed him the two copies of the Washington Post. "Do you know about this?"

Skinner's jaw tightened. He glanced over her shoulder. "Yes," he said quietly. He looked a little awkward.

"Listen, I'm very busy-"

"What's going on? You know that this article is full of lies-"

"I can't talk right now-" he said firmly, his voice low.

Gwen continued to stare at him expectantly, refusing to budge, waiting for an answer. The Assistant Director took her arm and gently tugged her to a corner of the office. They spoke over a large potted plant. "I was given a choice. Sacrifices were made. It came down to either Mulder's job or a cover-up and having the charges dropped." Skinner looked over her shoulder again, his eyes scanning the landscape.

"And you decided that Mulder would stay."

Suddenly it was clear to Gwen. "You got the charges dropped? There's no case against him?"

Skinner nodded solemnly. "I know I made the right choice-" he said, his voice hushed. Suddenly, something in him tightened and he stood straight. It was as if he was a television and someone had changed the channel. "I can't talk right now-" he said in his regular speaking voice.

Gwen's face knit with puzzlement. "Is something wrong?"

Skinner stepped away from her and into the center of the reception area. "Some other time, Dr. Gardiner...." he said distantly, staring out the window that looked out into the corridor.

A man in a grey suit came through the door and paused in front of Skinner. Their eyes locked. The man drew a cigarette out of a pack and slipped it between his lips. He snapped a match in the assistant director's face and lit it, inhaling deeply. Sulfur smell stang Gwen's nostrils.

The Assistant Director turned abruptly, opening the door to his office and disappearing inside like Gwen had never been there. The smoking man turned to her and his eyes travelled down to the two newpapers that she held under her arm. He exhaled slowly, smoke lazily drifting from his lips and curling into the air. He moved towards Skinner's office and then paused, stepping close to her.

The whites of his eyes were yellowed and slightly bloodshot, and she found his skin a dead shade of lifeless grey. He leaned in slightly to share a confidentiality with her. The suit had an ashtray smell and the leaden-coloured fabric seemed insubstantial and thin, as if it were composed of smoke. He held her gaze intently for a moment and then dragged from his cigarette again.

When next he spoke, the words seemed to spell themselves out in his exhaled smoke. "You should learn to take people's advice."

He smiled a razor-thin grin at her and went in to the office, shutting the door slowly behind him.

Gwen shuddered.

Fin.

Title: Son of Gwen
Author: Tracey H.
Written:

Summary: Mulder and Scully come to Gwen's aid when she reports a Close Encounter. Matters are further complicated when they discover that she is pregnant.

Hi there everybody,

Here, at long last, two hard drive crashes later, is the fourth Gwen story. "Son of Gwen" is kind of a continuation of three earlier Gwen stories but, in case you're new, I wrote it so it could stand alone as well. The other three are in the Archive. This by far, is my longest story yet, and it feels like I've given birth myself.

There is a big nod at Rob Langford's story "Truth" in this story, which, incidentally happens 15 years AFTER mine, but still manages to be relevant. It is also found in the Archive under his name, so check it out if you're interested in what the future might look like.

This story mentions some topics which have been known to ruin the odd dinner party, such as abortion, so while everybody keeps their clothes on, I feel obliged to issue a Sensitive Issue Warning. ;) It's nothing political - just a story, folks.

Of course, the characters of Mulder, Scully and Skinner are the property of Chris Carter and 10-13 productions, lovingly used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

If anyone makes it through this story, I'd love to hear what they thought...feel free to drop me a line

Yours,

Tracey H.

"Come in." It was Scully who answered the frantic knocking at the door to her and Mulder's dingy basement office. "Gwen!" She smiled a warm smile that faded from her face almost instantly.

Gwen stood before them in the dimly lit hallway, shaken, pale and silent.

There was no customary greeting or wave. Her hair, carelessly thrown into a bun, spilled out from her leather thong and her eyes were watery and bloodshot. She looked at Scully hollowly.

Scully stood back from the door, taken aback. "What's wrong-?" Gwen shook her head.

Mulder saw that her skin had gone so pallid that her faint freckles seemed to float on her face. Her lips were blue-rimmed. He joined Scully at the door, concerned. "You look awful, Gwen-" he commented suddenly.

The hostage negotiator clutched her straw bag to her chest, opening her mouth. She shut it again, unable to get a good start on a sentence. She took a deep breath and looked sicker for it. "I've really got to talk to you two. It's important. Are you busy?" Her voice was faint.

Mulder nodded. "Sure. We've got some time..." He swung a wheeled chair over to her and sat her in it. Settling himself down on the edge of his desk, he was thrown by her grave appearance, so unlike the joking, smiling Gwen he had expected to see. He said nothing, waited for her to disclose herself. She did not.

Scully sat in front of her, her face lined with concern. She noticed that Gwen was covered in gooseflesh, the pale skin on her arms standing in prickly relief. "You don't look well. Are you alright?" she asked softly.

"Ummmm. No. No." Gwen stared distractedly at her straw bag, which she held protectively over her breast. "I don't think so," she began doubtfully, and smiled a twisted and ironic smile at the both of them.

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances.

"Nooo." She managed a smile and then sighed. "It's weirder than that. I just, well-" Gwen laughed suddenly, some colour coming to her cheeks. "I don't know why I'm worried about telling this to YOU-" She broke off.

"It's all right, Gwen..." Scully leaned forwards and patted her knee.

Gwen still wouldn't release her defensive position. She shook her head a few times, breathing deeply.

"Okay. Okay. Right," Gwen told herself reassuringly. "There was a bank robbery in Baltimore and a security guard had been taken hostage. The Bureau called me in to negotiate, which was fine. Anyways, everything went well and they offered me a lift. It was around twoish in the morning and I told the driver to let me off so I could walk..."

She hesitated and they saw her face drop back to a sickly pale. Gwen's eyes dropped to the floor. "My road's pretty deserted, and-" She came to a dead stop. There was a pause.

Mulder got off the desk. "What?" She gave him a weak smile.

"I know this will grab you, Fox - I saw a big light in the sky."

Scully turned to Mulder, trying not to smile.

Mulder squinted at her. "You're pulling my leg, Gwen...."

"No," she said simply. "I'm not. I saw a huge light over the trees."

Scully spoke softly, barely concealing her incredulity. "You think you saw a UFO?" Gwen wasn't the type to be playing jokes on them and her appearance had her worried.

"Gwen don't mess with me...." Mulder tried to smile but Gwen looked too unnerved and sickly. Something fluttered in his stomach, a nervous excitement. He stood in front of her, a strained expression on his face.

Gwen looked up at him, and he saw her shoulders start to shake slightly.

Tears came to her eyes, glossing them over. "No. I'm not. The only thing I remember is thinking 'Fox would like this-' and then, after that, nothing." She fought to keep her voice calm, but it buckled and wavered with uncertainty. Her voice broke.

She began to sob, heaving and gasping, forcing each word out. Her blue lips trembled. "Something's happened and I don't know what it is. I'm scared." Tears rained down her cheeks unheeded. Mulder reached awkwardly for the box of tissues on the filing cabinet. He was used to people crying during their testimonials, but he was truly unnerved at seeing Gwen upset.

He felt a tight knot rise in his throat.

Scully rubbed Gwen's shoulders, a deep frown set on her red lips. She remembered how Gwen had been so steadfast for her when she had been taken hostage.

Mulder waited until Gwen's weeping had subsided a bit. "Okay, Gwen....if you really think you saw a UFO, you know that we'll have some questions for you. We have to go about this logically-" He handed the kleenex to Scully, who offered them to Gwen. Gwen took four and wiped at her face. When she was done she looked miles better.

"This is terrible. I'm sorry about all of this...I've been up all night."

She blew her nose and wadded the kleenex up into a ball. She tossed it expertly into Mulder's garbage can and turned back to them. "I've got to find out what happened. I'm frightened all the time now. I'm afraid to go home...."

"Where'd you spend the night?" Scully gently sat the box of tissues on Gwen's lap.

Gwen shrugged. "At the IHOP right off of the I-70 at Potomac street."

"The 'International House of Pancakes'?" Mulder laughed despite himself.

Scully let herself grin. "Least you didn't go hungry."

" Well, no..." Gwen grimaced and patted her belly. "But I've eaten so many pancakes that I've been throwing up all morning."

"Really?" Scully expertly touched her forehead. "You do feel a little warm."

"I don't feel warm...." Gwen shuddered. "And then while I was sitting in the restaurant, a man came and tried to sit in my booth with me. 'I know what's happened to you,' he said."

Scully blinked. "What did he tell you?"

Gwen shook her head. "I don't know. He freaked me out. I said 'Ok.' and went to the ladies room. I hid there for about an hour."

"You didn't ask him what he meant?" Mulder spoke softly.

"No," Gwen stared at her bag ashamedly. "I didn't care. I was scared."

Mulder and Scully exchanged looks. Mulder went over to her. When he spoke his voice was soft and understanding. "Okay, Gwen...tell me what you saw."

Gwen's eyes watered a bit more. She tried to steady herself. "Nothing. I don't know. I woke up in a ditch by the road."

Scully sat back in her chair. "What about the light in the sky?" she asked before Mulder could hijack the interview away from her. The pre-emptive strike was not lost on him and he pressed his lips together tightly for a moment.

Gwen whirled to stare at Scully so quickly Scully blinked in surprise.

"Yes. I saw a bright light. It looked like it was coming down and...and..." Gwen found herself searching for details in an empty mind.

"And then I woke up in the ditch. That's all I know. Maybe if I tried harder...."

Scully glanced over to Mulder who was staring at Gwen with interest. While she wouldn't ever doubt Gwen's honesty, she reminded herself that witnesses tended to repress certain uglier aspects of the story. She bit her lip. "Gwen..." she started slowly. "Perhaps you didn't see a UFO. Are you certain that was what happened?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes. What are you suggesting?"

Scully inhaled deeply and looked at her hands a moment. "I'm suggesting that perhaps you were struck by a car or assaulted or that you tripped and fell-"

Mulder was angry. "Scully-"

Scully turned in her chair to face him. "I'm sorry Mulder, but just because she saw a bright light and fell in a ditch does not instantly make her an alien contactee."

Mulder was about to speak when Gwen cut him off. She looked on the verge of tears again. "Look, I don't know what's wrong with me but I feel...."

She moistened her cracked blue lips. "...I don't know. I'm willing to believe anything right now. I just want to be-" Her nose ran and she stifled it with a kleenex. "myself again. All right?"

Mulder nodded, chastised.

Scully pointed at Gwen's straw bag. "Did you check that your belongings are all there? Your wallet, any papers?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes. I spent about thirty dollars on pancakes and orange juice." She looked pointedly at Scully. "And Dana, there's something else-"

"Certainly, Gwen-" Scully smiled reassuringly.

Gwen hesitated. "Could you examine me? I've got some weird stuff happening-" She pulled her sweater up to reveal a welted midriff. The raised red marks wrapped around her waist in a strange pattern, like a strange tattoo. Scully gasped.

"Gwen-" She began in amazement. Mulder knelt next to her and touched one of the welts lightly. The contusions were inflamed and sore-looking. "Oh God, Gwen, what happened to you?" He whispered. Gwen lowered her sweater. Her eyes were rimming with tears again.

"I don't know...." She breathed, her voice shaking. "But Dana, I want to know what this stuff is-"

Scully nodded and stood up, her mind reeling. "Gwen-that isn't normal. We have to get you examined right away."

"We'll need photos...." Mulder said, dazed.

"I might be able to comandeer one of the autopsy bays here to use as an impromptu examination room, if you're okay with that."

Gwen stood as well. She was shaky but refused Mulder's arm. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." She began heavily and turned to Mulder. "And, I have to ask for a personal favor from you too..."

"Sure," Mulder said breathlessly, his mind reeling.

Gwen looked at both of them. "Can I stay with somebody for a few nights?"

Scully went to the door, her face suddenly lined with concern. "You can stay at my place. It's not quite as zen as I hear your house is but there's a fold-out you can sleep on."

"I really really appreciate it." Gwen smiled weakly. Mulder got to his feet and rubbed his head, lost in thought. Scully opened the door.

"I'm going to see if one of the autopsy rooms is free right now." Scully led Gwen into the bright autopsy lab and donned a white coat.

The room was sterile looking and smelled strongly of disinfectant. The green tiled walls were spotless. Mulder entered, but remained at the door, looking around awkwardly. He cleared his throat. "Gwen - if we're going to investigate this properly, I have to hang around. If there's a problem-"

Turning toward the operating table, Gwen pulled her sweater off over her head and wriggled out of her skirt. Mulder averted his gaze and ran his hands over the cermamic wall tiles. "We're all grownups, Fox. Just don't giggle." She sat on the table in a burgundy silk camisole set while Scully snapped on some latex gloves.

"It's all right, Mulder. She can keep her underwear on for this part."

She tucked her red hair under a plastic shower cap. Suddenly, she was Dr. Scully.

"It's very pretty, by the way."

"Thank you. At least they're clean." Gwen replied, trying to smile.

Mulder turned around. He raised his eyebrows, grinning. "Gwen, I didn't think you'd go for such sexy unmentionables."

Gwen grinned gamely at him. "Didn't expect me to be a Victoria's Secret type, huh?" Scully laid some wax paper on the autopsy table and gestured for Gwen to sit.

Scully moved in front of Gwen, peering at her face closely. "There are blue marks on your face. Are they sore?" she asked, prodding Gwen's lips and cheeks.

"Oh-" Gwen muttered embarrassedly. "Are there?" She licked her lips. The bluish colouring faded away. "Blueberry pancake syrop. No cause for panic."

"Ah." Scully took out a stethoscope and pressed it against Gwen's back.

"Deep breath-" Gwen complied, breathing deeply while Scully moved her stethoscope around her back.

Mulder took out a tape recorder and held it out to Gwen. "Can I ask you questions while Scully's examining you?" Scully scribbled down some notes and then took Gwen's blood pressure.

Gwen nodded while the bag on her arm inflated. "Psychologically speaking, the fact that I don't remember could mean I'm repressing something that occurred that evening."

"There is a possiblity that you were assaulted in some way-" Scully mumbled, absorbed in reading the sphygmomanometer.

Gwen sighed heavily. "I know."

"I'm going to need a blood sample," Scully said, ripping the blood pressure cuff off. She swabbed Gwen's arm with alcohol. "I am going to test for any signs of forced intercourse. You might not want to be here for that, Mulder."

Gwen averted her eyes as Scully inserted a needle into her carefully.

"What about the lights in the sky, Fox? And I felt terrible in the morning...radiation?"

"Or pancakes." Mulder busied himself making notes while Scully lifted up Gwen's camisole, examining her skin. "And you're back to calling me Fox. I thought you'd gone off that."

"When I'm in my undies I call everybody by their first name."

Scully turned to Mulder. "This is where the examination gets personal. Maybe you can wait outside for a few minutes."

He nodded. "I'll get the camera."

Scully and Gwen turned to stare at him.

Mulder held his hands in the air. "For the welts. For the welts."

An hour or so later, Scully pulled off her plastic cap, her red hair tumbling down around her face, and admitted Mulder back into the examination room. Gwen was pulling her sweater back on. More colour had come into her cheeks.

"Mulder, you should be here for the prognosis." She turned to Gwen. "Are you all right with that, Gwen? It might get a bit detailed about private things."

Gwen shrugged. "I've got nothing to hide. Now that Fox-" She smiled at him, remembering herself. Mulder smiled back at her. "Now that Mulder knows about my silky undies there's hardly anything left to disclose."

Scully turned to her. "Then you know that you're almost a month pregnant?"

Mulder blinked. Gwen laughed. "Dana, you're kidding, right?"

Dr. Scully shook her head at her, the corners of her mouth turning down at the corners. "No. The pregnancy test is positive. You're pregnant."

"Is this news?" Mulder inquired.

Gwen laughed incredulously. "Dana. That's impossible. I've had all my periods."

Scully showed her a chart. "I'm pretty positive. Sorry to ask Gwen, but have you had sex with anyone within the last month?"

"No. Not for a while. Not for quite a while."

"How long a while?" Mulder asked.

"Like, a two or two and a half year while." Gwen said firmly. Everyone fell silent. When Scully looked skeptical Gwen continued. "I'm not lying. And that last relationship was with a woman, all right?"

Mulder and Scully tried not to look surprised. Mulder failed miserably. "Gwen-" he stammered. "...and, and I thought that you had something going with Skinner...."

Scully shook her head. "Your temperature matches with a pregnancy."

Gwen covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide. "No, Dana. I swear. I would remember-"

Mulder sat on the examination table, his face drawn. He breathed into his hands. "My God, Scully, they've impregnated her."

Gwen shook her head emphatically. "No. I'm not pregnant. I haven't even thought about sex recently. Test me again." She was quickly fading to her translucent pallor.

Scully folded her arms. "Okay, maybe the test isn't that accurate. There are more reliable methods." Scully looked at the floor. "I can send it to another lab to be absolutely sure."

Mulder paced the floor. He turned to face Scully. "Wait- don't just send it to another lab. Is there any way you can do this yourself?"

"Well, no, not really. I've used the most reliable means we have." Scully stripped off of her gloves and rubbed her forehead tiredly. "Why can't we send it out?"

Mulder was emphatic but he spoke softly so only Scully could hear. "Because, Scully, if Gwen has been impregnated by aliens she could be in danger-"

"Oh come on-"

"Scully, listen to me, they'll be back to harvest the baby. It's happened before-"

"Please stop this." Gwen insisted, suddenly foggy. "I am not pregnant. I'm just not feeling well...uhh.." Gwen lurched abruptly over to the corner of the room and retched passionately onto the meticulously antiseptic tiled floor.

She straightened up after a second and Scully passed her a damp cloth. "Here take this, go sit down."

Mulder went and sat next to Gwen, rubbing her shoulders. Gwen wiped at her face with the towel, lost in a daze. "This is the third time I've thrown up today."

Mulder looked over his shoulder at Scully whose attention had been caught by that statement as well.

"That would make sense..." Scully murmured softly, checking her notes. She stared down at the small purply-blue mess Gwen had made on the floor.

"Gwen-" Mulder began softly, and his voice was almost tender. "Gwen, listen to me. There is a possibility that you were abducted by aliens that impregnated you-"

"Oh," Gwen murmured wobbily.

Scully pointed at Gwen. "Mulder! Look out!" Gwen swayed a moment, appearing not to hear, and then slid off the table to the floor in a cold faint.

The world swam around Gwen's head, her vision warping and wavering, lights and sounds lost in a watery haze. She made a feeble attempt to reach for the gleaming stainless steel table, a haphazard gesture, but suddenly it was too far away. She saw her arm stretching across an empty space. It was as if the waxen joints in her knees had melted, giving way suddenly, pouring her softly to the ground.

She lay motionless on the floor, the cool linoleum reassuringly flat and smooth beneath her. She didn't have to open her eyes to hear Scully's footsteps draw nearer.

"Gwen - ?" Scully's voice reached her faintly through a kaleidoscope of coloured lights and dizzying patterns. "Let's get her up on the table." Hands were slipped silently under Gwen's shoulders and she was hoisted through the air and brought to rest on the solid metallic cold of the examination table.

Mulder leaned over her with curiousity. "Is she conscious?"

Gwen opened her eyes and the blinding lights insulted them again. "Yes," she answered and closed her eyes, feeling like she had been woken from a deep sleep. Mulder patted her shoulder reassuringly.

Gwen listened as Scully's high heels walked over towards the wall. "Mulder?" she beckoned softly and Gwen heard the quiet rustle of fabric as she shrugged out of her lab coat.

Mulder's footsteps faded and Gwen could tell that they stood near the wall, watching her. She could feel the wary weight of their gaze. There was silence for a moment.

"It's morning sickness," she heard Scully murmur under her breath. "She's a month pregnant. Those are the classic symptoms."

Mulder rustled papers impatiently. "We have to find out if she was abducted. If she's been implanted with an alien fetus-"

Scully's voice was tinged with a metallic impatience. "Mulder, stop this."

Her voice rang slightly off of the hard tiled walls. "She's at least a month pregnant. The abduction, if that's what it was, happened last night."

"What about 'purity control'? You saw the warehouse where they were incubating alien/human hybrids!" Mulder caught himself starting to shout and dropped his voice.

Gwen exhaled slowly. They thought she couldn't hear them. It was like listening to a movie about yourself. Mulder continued quietly. "This means they're still at it. They would have implanted a month-old fetus-"

"She may need to see a crisis counsellor. Don't give her more ways she can repress what happened to her-"

"We can't waste time, Scully, they're going to come back-"

Gwen's eyes popped open and she sat up suddenly on the autopsy table, the dead come back to life. Mulder and Scully both jumped. "I don't know about this-" she said loudly and swung her legs off the table. Her feet hit the solid floor with a thud. "Maybe this is a big mistake...."

She wobbled and Mulder ran to her side to steady her. "Gwen, you may be in a great deal of danger. There are people who will be very interested in what happened to you-"

"Spacemen...." Gwen mumbled, taking wavering steps towards the door.

Mulder shook his head. "No. Not spacemen. The American Government. Other Governments-"

Scully shot him a dangerous look. "Mulder...she's got to come to grips with her problem before you fill her mind with-"

He turned to look at her, a defiant expression on his face. "She's in serious trouble-"

"How do you know that? You can't even prove that she's been abducted-"

Scully shot back quickly. Gwen put her hand over her stomach, feeling nauseous again. Mulder and Scully were in a shouting match. Her ears rang. "Explain those welts, Scully-"

"I can't explain the welts, but when did that start to mean we should jump to conclusions? Maybe they're an allergy of some sort. Why won't you admit that there's a possibilty she was assaulted?"

"They clamped her to a table-"

Gwen stumbled towards the door. Her shaking hands hit the smooth, solid wood, silding over it to blindly grasp the handle. She took short, quick breaths in jagged gasps.

"I think-" she began softly, and the world around her went grey around the edges. She closed her eyes and rested her weight against the door. "...I think...."

"You'll accept no theory but abduction, no matter how far-out it-"

"'Far out'?" Mulder's lips curled with sarcasm.

"Shut up!" Gwen yelled suddenly and grabbed her head. The force of her voice had sent more blood rushing away from her brain and she was only dimly aware that they turned to face her in shock.

"Gwen...?" Mulder's tone had softened.

She shook her head at them and felt her brain rattling around inside like it had come loose. "This is just too much. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you." The words emptied themselves out of her mouth with a fluid ease and sat in the air between the three. "I mean, this just excites you, doesn't it? Another chance to debate. You don't care about me at all..."

She turned her back on the statement that had come out of her mouth unbidden, and heaved open the door.

Mulder and Scully stared blankly at the wooden door as it swung shut slowly, their faces grimly without expression. A heavy silence sat atop them for a moment, crushing the air between them.

"Well," Scully said, inhaling deeply. "The examination's over."

Gwen's feet numbly hurried her along the hallway, her long skirt whooshing impatiently between her legs. She ignored the stares of the suited agents that passed her by, and elbowed her way through them. Her mind whirled and her thoughts swam and she had to get out of there, out of that tight, airless building, out onto the street, where she could collect herself.

Her skin had become cold and damp, and she heard Mulder's voice in her head, speaking impossible words. "Fetus" "Hybridization" she closed her sweating eyelids. Her stomach rose in her throat, threatening to overflow when she heard her name called, and it sounded distant as if through a tin can. "Dr. Gardiner-"

Gwen's blood froze and she lurched to a stop. It was Skinner. He had spotted her through the glass window in his outer office. He moved to the doorway and nodded his head at her.

"A word?" he asked, in a voice accustomed to not being refused.

Gwen's feet wandered over to him and she fought for normality. "Umm..."

she began. Skinner stepped back out of the hall and she followed.

The secretary looked up and Gwen crushed out a faded smile for her.

Skinner looked awkward and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, leaning in to talk to her. He moved towards the large potted plant, indicating that he wanted to be out of the secretary's earshot.

"Listen Gwen," he muttered self-conciously. "The last time we spoke - I was rude. That was uncalled for."

"Oh..." Gwen managed, unsure of what he meant.

Skinner ground his teeth. "That whole business with Mulder and that newspaper article-" He broke off.

It occurred to Gwen that he was wearing a very nice aftershave, one she liked, but it was making her ill. "I can't stay...." she tried, but her voice was so weak it sounded like a dry croak.

Skinner didn't hear her. "That was a bad situation. And when you wanted to talk I..." he thought for a moment. "...gave you the brush-off. I should-" he exhaled.

"...I've really got to go..." Gwen mumbled, staring at the plant.

"I should apologize." Skinner finished. He cocked his head at her. "Dr. Gardiner are you all right?"

Gwen shook her head and then nodded. "Sorry..." she murmured absently. "I'm a little dizzy..."

Skinner squinted at her skeptically. "Gwen, I think you should sit down." He said it in his regular speaking voice, causing the secretary to look up from her appointment book. "Is something the matter?" He reached to take her arm and she jumped back suddenly, cringing.

"No!" she cried suddenly, stumbling back from him. In a second she recovered herself enough to straighten up. She pushed strands mousy hair out of her face, affecting normality. Dizziness swept around her and she fought to stay up. "It's okay-"

"Why don't you check in at the infirmary," the Assistant Director suggested, with a firm undercurrent to his voice, a this-would-be-the-best-for-everybody-involved type tone. Gwen backed toward the door of the office.

"Thanks, I will," she muttered blindly and rushed back into the hallway.

Mulder and Scully attempted to pick up where the earlier part of their day had left off. Gwen's distraught appearance at their door that morning had sent their plans flying into pieces and now they fought to regain whatever control over them they still had.

Scully tried to lose herself in the pile of reports that waited on her desk, her mind somewhere up above with Gwen, wandering through the building, worrying. Mulder had shoved his work aside and was reviewing case files of alien abductions involving pregnancies.

They worked in silence, not speaking, having exhausted all topics of argument by the time they had made it back to their office. Scully lifted her head from her work and stared at her phone for a moment.

Without warning she picked it up and dialed. Mulder looked over to see what she was up to.

"Is Amanda Wallis there?" she inquired, picking up a tiny plastic vial on her desk and looking at the blood inside. She tapped her finger against the plastic impatiently while she waited. "Yes Amanda? Hi. It's Dana Scully from the-" Scully's face broke into a smile. "Fine. How are you?"

Mulder left the case file on his desk open. Scully never made personal calls from her desk. This was something else.

Scully straightened up in her chair. She set the vial in front of her. "Look, I know it's been a long time, but can you do me a favor? Are you still in charge of testing and typing at the clinic? -Great."

The person on the other end made some sort of joke and Scully laughed.

Mulder watched in fascination.

"Well this is it: I've taken a blood sample and run it through sme of our tests. We've come up with some weird results and I was wondering if it would be any trouble to-" Scully listened for a second and smiled broadly. "That's great. Thanks so much, Amanda. I owe you one."

Scully's smile faded but a hint of it hung at the edges of her mouth, not quite gone. She picked up a pen. "Okay-- I'm going to purolate this to you. It's about 6 ccs in a plastic bottle." She glanced momentarily at Mulder. "I'm not going to label it, okay? It's going to be anonymous. What's the address?"

She scribbled down the clinic's location and nodded at the same time. "Great. I'm sending it out right away." She paused for a moment, the fragments of her smile completely gone now. "And Amanda? Run it through everything." She listened for a moment and nodded in agreement. "Great. Bye." Scully placed the receiver back in its cradle and looked at Mulder, her face serious.

"Can we trust her?" Mulder said softly. She nodded. He pointed at the vial on Scully's desk. "Because that sample might be trou-"

The telephone on Scully's desk rang again. She picked it up on the second ring, a quick reflex. "Scully." Her eyes widened and she sat up in her chair. "Sir-" she began. Something was being explained to her. She looked pointedly at Mulder. "No, I haven't seen her recently-" She was cut off again.

Mulder grabbed a piece of paper out of his trash and scribbled hastily on it.

"Really? Oh, well, yes, definitely, sir. If I see her I'll take her there myself."

Skinner? Mulder's sign read. She nodded and waved him away, plugging her ear with a finger.

"All right. No problem, sir." Scully hung up and turned back to Mulder.

"Skinner's looking for Gwen."

Mulder rubbed his face. "What'd she tell him?"

"Nothing. He said she looked sick."

He sighed, and his voice betrayed a tension. "What if she doesn't come back?"

Scully grinned at his exasperation. "She will." She reached behind her desk and lifted up Gwen's straw bag. "She can't walk back to Maryland."

Mulder quickly became annoyed with Scully's unwavering faith in Gwen's eventual reappearance. He felt that she was refusing to grasp the weight of the circumstances, preferring instead to rely upon her comfortable scientific logic. Over and over he tried to impress upon her the importance of what had happened, the direness of the consequences, but he could not dent her serenity.

Even if it could be proved that she hadn't been abducted, Mulder reasoned, there would still be concerned parties that would want to test Gwen for their own research purposes. This was the kind of thing people were prepared to die for. Whether Scully believed or not.

Unconvinced, Scully insisted that Gwen would return, safe and sound, with no hard feelings, and sure enough, at exactly 5:55pm, Gwen had reappeared at the door to their office. She had spent the rest of the day at the coffee shop across the street from the FBI building, reading old newspapers and eating a copious amount of jelly doughnuts.

Scully and Gwen returned to Scully's apartment, and after she had changed into a nightgown of Scully's, Gwen noticed a slight roundness in her belly. "Look at this..." Gwen marched into the livingroom wearing a large purple nightshirt. She paraded in front of Scully, who sat on her sofa drinking tea, still in her copper slacks, the wrinkled ends of her white blouse unceremoniously tugged out of her waistband. "Look at my stomach."

Scully smiled into her mug of tea. "Gwen..."

Gwen stretched the nightshirt taut across her belly. "I'm getting bigger-"

"Gwen-" Scully shook her head at her. "Stop puffing out. You don't look pregnant. no one'll know for a while yet."

At that, Gwen looked so depressed that Scully felt obliged to continue. "But we'll get the test results in the morning. It might be that we're wrong."

Gwen said nothing, lost in thought in front of the hallway mirror, staring at her stomach in profile. "I'm not puffing out-"

At that the apartment buzzer barked alive, startling them both. Scully sprang up to the intercom and pressed the "listen" button.

"Scully-" It was Mulder. She buzzed him up.

In a moment he was looming breathlessly through Scully's doorway, dressed in a windbreaker and a black turtleneck. Without a word he turned around and locked the door, a gesture that unsettled the two women.

With him was a box with a dial on it. A small hose was attached to its side and, before he spoke, he had unhooked it and passed the hose over Gwen. It sprang to life, clattering and clicking like it were full of enraged crickets.

"You're radioactive," Mulder greeted Gwen.

Scully pulled the hose from Mulder's grasp and waved it around herself a few times. A few randomstaticky clicks were heard, nothing more. Gwen backed away from the two of them, paling. "I'm radioactive?" She sat weakly on the sofa.

Mulder turned to Scully, who waited expectantly for an explanation. "I drove towards Gwen's place with the Geiger counter and sure enough, it went crazy about an eighth of a mile from her house. When I pulled over and checked the place out, it was dark but I saw the ditch. The counter sounded like a standing ovation."

Mulder set down the Geiger counter and went over to Gwen, who sat on the sofa numb with amazement. "Look, Gwen, I know this must be very upsetting to you, but it looks like you have been abducted. They might have impregnated you. Cases of false pregnancies have been documented before-"

Tears filled Gwen's eyes. They hovered in the rims, dampening her eyelashes. "Why would they do that to ME? What have I done? I never even thought about UFOs until I met you...."

Scully sat down next to Gwen, her hands clasped over her knees, saying nothing.

"Listen to me, Gwen. In almost all of the cases, the fetus has been miscarried - rejected by the host." Mulder chewed his lip.

"Almost all?" Scully caught the discrepancy.

"What?" Gwen asked nervously. She fought to keep her voice from being shrill. "What else happens?"

Mulder sighed. "In a few cases, they've come back, re-abducting their subject, 'harvesting' the fetus themselves." He looked down at his hands.

Scully closed her eyes. Didn't Mulder know that he was scaring the daylights out of Gwen? In his fervour for the subject, he had forgotten that the person involved was not an anonymous case study, but their mutual friend.

Gwen sat on the sofa, listening in delirium. She laughed hollowly. "Oh god, what am I going to do?"

Mulder reached over and placed his hand over Gwen's. When their eyes met, his gaze was strangely intense, drilling into her. He was somewhere else.

The only other time Gwen had seen that haunted look was when Scully had been taken hostage.

He spoke softly, enunciating every word. "We're not going to let them come for you. Scully and I won't let it happen. I promise." He reached around to the back of his waist and withdrew his gun from its holster. Gingerly, he laid it in Gwen's hands. "Take this-"

Gwen stared at the black pistol in disbelief. The gun felt cold and dangerous in her hand, like a large meat cleaver. Was this going to stop the inevitable from happening? "What? I can't have this-"

Scully bit her lip. "Mulder, are you sure? You know that isn't legal..."

"Right now I'm not worried about the police."

Shaking her head, Gwen passed the gun back to Mulder slolwly, like she were handing him a red-hot coal. "I don't want it." Her shaking voice was almost firm.

Mulder held the gun in both hands, kneeling before Gwen like he were making an offering. "You need to protect yourself."

"From spacemen?" Gwen asked incredulously, her voice ringing off the walls of Scully's apartment. Mulder blinked, taken aback and shook his head, suddenly exasperated at having to explain.

"Gwen - listen to me, there are people -not aliens- that will want to take you - test you -"

The apartment's buzzer interrupted him, and he sat back on his heels in frustration. He looked over to Scully.

"Are you expecting anyone? Don't answer it."

Scully ignored him and was at the intercom in an instant. "Hello?"

"Dana-?" a tinny voice echoed eerily at her. "It's Amanda Wallis."

Scully nodded at Mulder and Gwen, pressing down on the buzzer. "It's my friend from the clinic."

Gwen turned to Mulder and shook her head. "Look, a gun isn't going to solve any of my problems. There are too many guns in this city."

Mulder nodded quickly. "That's noble of you Gwen but I'm worried that-"

"If they're coming to take me away then so be it."

Her martyr-like resolve frustrated him but he pocketed the gun and said nothing. Fair enough. He could see that she was clearly in no mood to be coerced like a child, and he made up his mind to respect it.

"Amanda-" Scully said, opening the door a crack. "I thought you said you would only have the results tomorrow morning-?"

"I have to talk to you-" Amanda tried to stick her head in the tiny gap in the door. Scully widened it and Amanda, a woman with smiling eyes and a tuft of chestnut brown hair stepped through into the apartment. She stopped speaking suddenly, as her eyes fell to Mulder and Gwen on the sofa.

Scully nodded. "It's okay, they know."

Amanda considered them for a moment and then turned to Scully, pulling a vial of blood from her jacket. "Dana - I have to know. Is this blood sample from you?"

Scully frowned. "No. What did you find?"

Amanda cast another sidelong glance at Mulder and Gwen before explaining. "I've only done some prelims, but what's turning up is incredible. There are anomalies all over the place." She bit her lip. "Either our machines have gone off or I don't know, but something is very unusual."

"Like what?" Scully asked, a little too quickly.

Amanda sighed. "The blood count turned up an exaggerated number of white blood cells, low hemoglobin - a state resembling leukemia but the other factors-"

"What?" Gwen laughed incredulously. "I've got leukemia?"

Amanda turned to her. "Not exactly," she said slowly.

"How'd I get leukemia?" Gwen's voice wavered slightly, a hair away from hysteria. She rose to her feet. "How does someone just get leukemia?"

Mulder stood up as well. He prodded the geiger-counter sitting next to the sofa with his foot, grimacing. "Radiation."

Amanda turned to him. "Yes.... Prolonged exposure to radiation would disrupt the chemical bonds in the blood."

Gwen shook her head in mute disbelief.

Scully lowered her voice. "Can you be sure about this?"

Amanda shrugged. "I can't. You'd need a biopsy of the bone marrow to be absolutely certain, but a lot of the signs are there: the high white cell count, the presence of 'blasts', or immature blood cells...." she frowned.

"But there are things that don't match up. The white cell count suggests that it's only in an early chronic stage, but the amount of those immature 'blasts' is textbook acute. And, she's nearly two months pregnant, which I don't even think is possible."

"Two months?" Scully exclaimed. "But the FBI's kit test had her at barely a month!"

Amanda shrugged again. "I don't know. The clinic's tests are fairly accurate." She turned to Gwen. "Have you experienced a fatigue, a malaise, a loss of weight?"

Gwen nodded slowly.

"That could be anybody...." Mulder murmured skeptically.

"Red skin blotches?" Amanda asked. Gwen blinked, her eyes dull.

"Yes...." She pointed to her waist. "Around here."

Amanda turned to Scully. "What I'd like is to do another run of tests with a new blood sample. I just don't understand any of this. Would that be all right with everybody?"

Gwen nodded and weakly bared her arm as Amanda reached down into a little case she had brought with her, pulling out a plastic wrapped syringe, some rubbing alcohol and swabs. Mulder paced the room. "The immaculate conception...."

Scully frowned but said nothing, waiting with her arms crossed while Amanda expertly slid the needle into Gwen's arm.

"Don't even JOKE about that." Gwen scolded him, wincing at the needle's sting.

"And the biopsy," Amanda said offhandedly while she drew blood, continuing a conversation she had been having with herself in her head. "I know a doctor who would-"

"No." Mulder said suddenly with gravity. "Not yet."

He pulled Scully into the kitchen while Amanda's syringe filled with Gwen's blood, lowering his voice until Scully had to strain to hear him. "This is too big, Scully. Trusting anyone else with Gwen's medical information-"

"She's got leukemia, Mulder." Scully interjected. "We can't deny her treatment." She reached over and turned on a faucet, ensuring that their conversation would be drowned out by the steady burble of water.

Mulder dropped his head in a nod. "I know. It's just that-" He took Scully's arm and pulled her closer to the sink. "that might put her in more danger than she is in already." He pointed toward the living room. "Does Gwen look like she has leukemia, in your medical opinion?" Scully opened her mouth to answer, but he nodded at her, cutting her off. "No," he answered for her.

Scully shook her head. "She may have just developed it, Mulder. Blood tests are used to isolate the warning signs-" Scully began, her voice rising into the clearly audible range.

"You heard Amanda - she said she found immature blood cells indicative of the acute stages of leukemia. Someone is using Gwen as a guinea pig for something Scully, and I don't think we should just waltz her into a hospital somewhere and submit her for testing before-" He broke off quickly. Amanda stuck her head into the kitchen. "All done."

Mulder and Scully whipped around to face her, their guilty expressions identical. She blinked at them both, huddled together by the sink.

"Sorry - am I interrupting something?"

Scully recovered first. "No. Of course not." she moved back into the livingroom with Amanda, Mulder following at her heels. "We'll wait on the biopsy for now-" Scully started, much to his relief. "How soon can the second set of tests be done?"

Amanda pulled her coat on and picked up her medical bag. "Tommorrow morning. I'm going to go straight there now." She glanced over to Gwen who stood staring out the window, holding a folded kleenex to her arm. "I'll be alone if I do it tonight. I get the distinct impression that you want this kept under wraps."

Gwen barely smiled. "Please."

Amanda reached over and patted her arm lightly. "Don't worry yet - who knows how this run will turn out?" She turned and went to the door where Scully stood. "I'll do my best, Dana."

Scully nodded morosely and offered Amanda a weak smile as she held the door open. "'Bye."

A few hours later, after Mulder had departed with his geiger-counter, as the evening had crawled as endlessly as a death-watch, Scully stood before Gwen who had not moved from the sofa all night. Dressed in green silk pyjamas and armed with a bag of Choc-O-Chunk cookies, she prepared herself for The Big Talk.

"Hey..." Scully said cheerily to the pallid woman who sat on the sofa-bed. "I was wondering if you felt like talking?"

Gwen looked genuinely cheered by the idea and smiled broadly for the first time that day. "Don't you have to be in early tommorrow?"

Scully shrugged, settling down on the soft end of the bed and setting the cookies between them. "I don't feel tired yet," she paused. "and I can imagine you've got a lot on your mind."

Gwen sighed. "I guess..."

Scully handed her a cookie. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Gwen munched. "'Choc-O-Chunk' - these are the best!"

As she drew a cookie for herself, Scully was mystified at Gwen's complacent behavior. "You're taking this incredibly well."

"Am I?" Gwen laughed and then feel silent. After a moment, she spoke again. "What should I do? Get angry? I can't blame anyone. Cry? I can't change anything."

Scully nodded. "Have you thought about the pregnancy at all?"

"Yes."

The simplicity of her reply worried Scully, and she furrowed her brow thoughtfully as she moved the bag of cookies aside. "Gwen," she said, trying not to belie the tension she felt. "You know that you'll have to have an abortion."

Gwen stared at Scully uncomprehendingly. "What." Her voice was flat.

Scully shook her head, already regretting her choice of words. "I know. I know how hard this must be, and it's not a decision that comes easily, but unless you miscarry there is no other solution."

"I don't want an abortion," Gwen said firmly.

Scully nodded understandingly.

"I know that the idea may go against your beliefs," she replied softly, absently reaching for the cross that dangled at the base of her neck. "I understand."

Gwen shook her head. "It doesn't go against my beliefs. I don't have a problem with the concept. I just don't want one."

"But Gwen, you can't go to term with this baby."

"Why not?"

Scully stopped for a moment. "Because," she started, taking a deep breath. "Because, if Mulder's right, it's an alien."

Gwen's face was obstinate. "Well, I'll have an alien baby."

"Well-" Scully stammered incredulously. "We don't know if it will even survive. And if it does, we have no idea for how long."

Gwen said nothing.

"And you might miscarry and that in itself might kill you, or maybe giving birth to it might kill you. And even if everything is fine and it survives, Mulder's right, every nation in the world will want to test you, take your baby-"

"So?" Gwen asked, frustrating Scully more than words. "Since when do you listen to Fox?"

"Gwen, listen to me. You may have leukemia - the chemotherapy would almost certainly damage the fetus. And there is a possibility that you wouldn't be alive to care for the baby if it lived - and where would you go? How would you educate it-?"

Gwen shook her head. "I know. I know it all, but I think I want it, Dana." Gwen explained patiently, picking up the bag of cookies and handing it back to Scully. "I've been thinking about that all night and this is the only way it makes sense to me. I'm getting too old to have a baby - maybe this is my last chance? How alien can it be? I'll still be it's mother...."

Scully stared at the bag in her hands for a second, red in the face and speechless at Gwen's indignance. "I - I'm sorry...." she stammered finally.

"I don't know what to say. I feel that you are making a completely unsound decision. I'm sorry."

Gwen realized that Scully was going through her own sort of shock and patted her arm amicably. "Maybe everything is wrong. Maybe I'm not pregnant at all...."

Scully nodded dumbly. After a minute she looked up at Gwen. "Just don't decide anything now, okay? Wait and see?"

Gwen smiled apologetically at her dismay. "All right. We'll see what the second tests say."

Scully stood up, still in a daze. What was Gwen saying? She felt as ungrounded as she did when she had a falling-out with Mulder. It was so clear to her what needed to be done and yet there was something so strangely comforting in Gwen's calm acceptance. Scully was at a loss for anything useful to say.

"We'll know tommorrow morning..." she managed vaguely, rolling the top of the cookie bag closed.

Gwen pulled the warm covers up to her chin, snuggling beneath them. "I feel better Dana, thank-you."

She realized that she hadn't slept in two days, a walking zombie, and she let her weighted eyelids heavily drift shut. She heard the crumple of the cookie bag as Scully set it on the dining table and moved down the hall.

"Goodnight Gwen...." Scully murmured and disappeared into her room.

At 2:35 that morning, when all was silent and dark, tired of tossing and turning, Scully reached out a weary arm to her telephone. She punched a speed dial button and pulled the receiver to her ear, cuddling down beneath her fluffy comforter.

In a moment, a gravelly voice answered her in the darkness. "Mulder."

"It's me..." she said quietly and she could feel him snap awake at the other end of the phone line.

"Where are you? Are you all right?" he demanded quickly, his voice clearing.

Scully rolled over on her back. Her eyes burned and there was no comfortable position to lie in. "Yeah," she sighed, kicking her legs beneath the sheets restlessly. "I can't sleep."

"Oh?" His voice smiled at her warmly through the night. "I wasn't having any trouble for a change."

Scully smiled too and passed a hand over her eyes. "She wants to keep the baby."

There was silence from the other end of the phone line. She imagined that he might have dropped it in shock. In a moment, his voice appeared, calm as ever.

"And you don't think that's wise...." he surmised softly.

Scully sat upright in the bed, covers flung aside. She kept her voice quiet but it lost none of its intensity. "Oh no Mulder, don't tell me that you think she should have it! I thought you were against this."

"Against this?" he repeated.

"Against the whole alien-human hybrid thing, the government's tests-"

"Wait-" Mulder interrupted. "Did I actually hear you say that you think that the baby isn't human? Let me get my tape recorder-"

Scully said nothing at his jibe and rearranged her pillows, stacking them atop of each other. "It's beginning to look like that might be a possibility. I wonder how she thinks she'll be able to take care of it...."

"I don't know, Scully," he said finally.

Scully sank back down into her bed, breathing deeply. "It's a mistake. We have to convince her to abort."

There was a pause. "Scully..." Mulder started. He sounded like he was being patient with her. "I know where you're coming from, but the FBI has no jurisdiction over maternal instinct. We have to go with whatever she decides."

Sighing, Scully pulled the covers over her head. "I know..." she said finally.

Mulder's voice was glum with fatigue. "The important thing is that we protect her somehow, and ensure that she gets medical attention as soon as we can provide for her safety. I know it's hard, but we can't make any decisions for her."

"It's a mess, Mulder...." Scully moaned softly. "But you're right."

"Try to sleep." Mulder said and quietly hung up.

The morning came earlier than usual to the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building, the invirgorating smell of fresh coffee percolating through the airless corridors. Deep in their windowless office, Mulder and Scully sat at their desks, eyes circled with trophies of dark purple rings that attested to their sleepless night. They attempted to finish their reports.

A glittering high-security pass dangled from the pocket of a crisp white blouse that Scully had loaned Gwen, who was bent over the filing cabinet. She sorted through files, pulling them out and rearranging them, her long brown hair tightly tucked in a bun.

The files were only in the vaguest form of alphabetical order, the result of many hurried investigations, and Gwen had offered to make herself useful, straightening things up, making copies and coffee, while they awaited the results of Amanda's tests. A half-hour of straightening, and the office was unrecognizable.

The telephone on Scully's desk rang and they all jumped a foot into the air, exposing the fact that they had all been pretending to be absorbed in their work. Scully snatched up the receiver before it had even rung a second time.

"Yeah?" she asked breathlessly, knowing who it would be. She listened while Gwen and Mulder scrutinized her face for any telltale reaction. "Yes. Yes. Hang on." She covered the mouthpiece of the telephone with one hand and addressed Mulder. "We've got to meet her at the clinic. She wants to show us the results in person."

Mulder nodded although Gwen could see he didn't like the idea much. "Yes. In about a half-hour. Okay? See you." Scully hung up and looked at Gwen. "That was Amanda, obviously."

"It didn't sound like good news," Gwen remarked tonelessly, laying the files in her hand on top of the filing cabinet. Mulder pulled his jacket off the back of his chair, frowning. Scully joined him at the door.

"At least the waiting's over."

Gwen nodded at her and grabbed the straw bag that went everywhere with her.

She smiled bravely at them. "Well, let's go."

Three quarters of an hour later they arrived at the Landsdowne Family Planning clinic in Baltimore. Amanda was waiting for them, standing inside the bulletproof glass doors, dressed in a white lab coat. Outside, a small group of men and women stood on the curb waving signs and pamphlets at the passersby. They grew excited as Mulder and Scully's purposely nondescript car pulled alongside the curb.

"Oh no." Mulder slowed the car to a stop.

"Fantastic," Scully muttered under her breath as she opened the door into the waiting crowd. They gathered into a cluster around her. Gwen got out on Mulder's side as they dumped brochures into Scully's arms.

"Do you know what they do in there?!" one of them shouted in her face.

Mulder grabbed Scully's arm and Gwen took the other, pulling her away from them.

"Doctors kill babies in there!" another shouted, pointing at the nondescript building.

"I know," Scully said acidly, pushing past them.

The gaggle of protesters clambered after them, pushing, clawing and shouting. Gwen and Mulder stepped up their pace and dragged Scully along, her high heels scraping the pavement. A young woman, her faint blond hair tied back in a ponytail, stepped directly in front of them. She held a large placard with a photo of a bloody fetus on it. Tears dripped down her face. She blocked their path.

Mulder had planned to ram right past her but Gwen halted. The girl held the photo up to Scully and Gwen. "Don't do it. Please. Please." Her lips stetched back, trembling in an ugly grimace. "I love you- God loves you- we love that baby- your baby..." she sobbed unintelligably.

Scully closed her eyes and sucked in her breath.

Gwen's face was beatific. "We understand. Thank you for your thoughts," she said calmly and was about to move ahead when an older man, his white hair feathered lightly over his expansive bald spot, joined the girl with the sign.

"I can't let you go in there!" he said, wrapping his arm protectively around the girl.

Mulder ground his teeth, holding back.

"I can't let you-" the older man repeated, bracing himself for a fight.

"Yes you can." Gwen's voice was firm but she smiled at them, years of hostage negotiation sweetening her tone. "We don't want to argue with you. We're going inside-" She nodded at Mulder and they forged ahead, dragging Scully with them.

They got about two feet when the rest of the protesters clawed them back.

A lanky young man grasped both of Gwen's arms, restraining her. "Father forgive them for they know not what they do-" he began, his voice a dry monotone. Gwen struggled angrily.

Scully fiercely shrugged off a woman who looked like a librarian who had tried to hug her.

"THIS is what they do in there!" A middle-aged man held a mason jar with an aborted fetus in Mulder's face.

"Murderers!!" they howled.

"Baby killers!"

"FBI," Mulder said calmly, pulling out his badge. "Blocking an abortion clinic is a federal offense."

The protesters fell silent and stared at him hollowly. After a moment, the librarian woman had decided that it was Scully who needed the clinic and impulsively moved to hug her.

"I'm glad you were born..." the woman blurted, folding her arms around Scully, who stiffened. She pulled out her badge and held it up for the woman to see.

"So am I." Scully grimaced and the crowd shrivelled and fell away from her like dead leaves from a tree. The three mounted the steps to the building, where Amanda unlocked the door for them.

"Sorry about that..." Amanda sighed, locking the door behind them.

"I thought these clinics tried to keep a low profile..." Mulder remarked, staring out the glass doors at the crowd regrouping outside.

Amanda shrugged. "You can't advertise and hide at the same time. They'll find you in the end." She pointed out the door at them. "These guys are pretty tame. All they want to do is hug you. At least there are no crazed maniacs with guns." She took a deep breath and nodded knowingly at the receptionist. "At least not so far."

They reflected on this. Amanda seemed not to notice the lull and busily beckoned for them to follow her down a labrynthine set of corridors.

They came to a small lab lined with long white countertops that ran along the walls. Set upon these were what looked to Gwen like a midway for little glass vials. Tracks ran along from one machine to the other and small glass bottles tinkled busily on this miniature trolley system, the red liquid inside splashing around joyfully. Every now and again, there was a small carousel on which several rows of vials rotated round and round, in and out of a white machine.

"I had a set like this for my hamster." Mulder grinned upon entering the room. Amanda laughed and shut the door behind them all.

"Yes - it's quite the set up."

"You've added some new equipment..." Scully noted in an admirative tone, inspecting the bottle trolley.

Amanda nodded. "We now do the advanced blood typing and testing for almost all of the Physimed Clinics in the Eastern U.S., so we could shell out for a few expensive gadgets."

Gwen frowned at the expensive gadgets that surrounded her. "How could these machines be wrong...?" she asked dubiously.

"Well," Amanda started slowly. "We don't expect them to be. But perhaps if something were strange they could be thrown off." Amanda pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it. "Normally we document all tests in our logs, but I figured that wouldn't be a good idea. These are my notes." She handed them to Scully.

Amanda took a deep breath. "This time the findings concluded that the subject was thirteen weeks pregnant, as opposed to the eight weeks, when I had tested a day earlier."

"I'm still pregnant," Gwen said dully.

"No, Amanda." Scully shook her head as she read Amanda's notes. "I can't work that out - thirteen weeks? The FBI's standard kit test had her at a month, when I tested a day earlier-" She pointed over to a machine that neither Mulder nor Gwen recognized. "And now, according to that - she's nearly three months?"

"But wait, there's more..." Amanda pointed at other large white machines.

"According to these she's got chronic/acute lymphoid-myeloid leukemia. That doesn't exist."

Mulder, silent until now, stepped forward. "What do you mean, 'doesn't exist'?"

"As before, there are irregularities in the leukocyte count which suggest a chronic leukemia, but those blast cells are still there, implying an acute myloblastic state." Amanda waited to see if he had understood. He hadn't.

Scully stepped in and touched his arm. "You either have one type of leukemia or another. You can't have them ALL."

Amanda nodded. "Right." She pointed to Gwen. "And it looks like you have the All-Time Greatest Hits of Leukemia, but you appear healthy."

Scully heaved in a deep breath, resigning herself to the last possibility.

"Could the tests be wrong?"

"I'm afraid not. Again, a bone marrow biopsy would be the definitive way to find out what's really going on, but our machines..." She took a large silver key out of her pocket and moved over to a large white fridge. "...They're not usually wrong twice."

Amanda inserted her key into a padlock on the fridge door and it popped open. She pulled the door wide and bent over, her white coat dragging on the floor, peering inside as if looking for a late night snack. Inside were hundreds more dark vials of blood, each neatly labelled. She moved some of them aside.

"Which is why I've asked you to come here this morning. I've saved the rest of the blood." Her voice echoed out of the refrigerator. "I have a theory about the pregnancy that might be a bit shocking."

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances.

"Am I going to miscarry? Is the baby healthy?" Gwen's voice was thin.

"Too healthy," the voice inside of the refrigerator replied. Sounds of little vials clinking floated up to them. Mulder stuffed his hands in his pockets and frowned.

A moment had passed and Amanda still had her head stuck in the fridge. "Amanda?" Scully went over to her.

Amanda pulled herself out of the fridge and straighted up. She had gone pale. "What?" Scully inquired worriedly.

"It's gone." Amanda spoke slowly, hardly believing herself. "It's just gone. My blood sample." She bent down again and started moving the trays of vials around again. "It was here. It was here yesterday night. I swear."

Mulder leaned with her, and peered inside the fridge. The light inside illuminated his face strangely. "Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure!" Amanda snapped, pulling her head out. An annoyed look twisted her brow. "I tried to ensure its anonymity....but it's not here. This fridge is kept locked at all times."

"Who has keys?" Mulder grew pale himself.

"Two other doctors and myself-" Amanda said and stopped, staring at him.

A change came over her face and she re-snapped the lock back onto the fridge

and moved to the door of the lab. She turned to them, her face grave.

"I'm going to call them both now-" She moved into the hallway. Mulder, Scully and Gwen followed after her flapping white coat.

She had run to the reception desk. "Sue - where's Doctor Rosenthal?"

The receptionist shook her head. "She's in the Bahamas, remember?"

Amanda nodded quickly. "Right. And Doctor Buchanan?"

The woman behind the desk frowned. "You didn't hear? Amanda, Doctor Buchanan was shot last night - he's in the hospital now, his wife called this morning."

Gwen glanced uneasily at Scully, who looked away. Amanda bit down on a

knuckle, a look of pensive distress overwhelming her features.

Mulder went over to the reception desk. "What did his wife say? Was he robbed?"

The woman behind the reception desk shrugged. "She said he wasn't doing very well - that's all she told me. In this town, who knows? It could be a robbery, or abortion protesters, bored kids, junkies...does it matter?"

Scully looked down. "It might," she breathed.

Amanda shook her head in disbelief and then gestured for them to follow her. She turned to the receptionist before leading them down the hallway. "Sue-" she said haltingly. "If - Let me know what happens...."

They weaved their way down empty corridors, Amanda in the lead, walking with great purpose, saying nothing. She stopped in front of a door. As she dug out her keys with hands that shook slightly, Mulder leaned over and spoke quietly.

"Are there any surveillance cameras that we can-?" Before he could finish, Amanda had unlocked the door and led them into a small security station. Blinking video montiors broadcast bland overhead views of the empty corridors.

"I thought of that." She went up to a large VCR-like component and struck the eject button. They waited anxiously while the machine chewed and whirred. Nothing happened. Amanda pressed the button firmly another time and the same chugging noises were repeated. No tape was offered forth.

Amanda gently flipped the plastic flap that protected the VCR's mouth. She slowly stuck her finger inside and moved it around, a bemused half-smile on her mouth. In a second she snapped her hand out and shook her head at them all.

"The tape is gone too." Her voice barely withheld the strain of angered frustration. "All of last night is gone."

"Clever." Gwen frowned.

Amanda numbly shuffled through some tapes on a shelf, shaking her head. After a moment she moved to the door and locked it from the inside. Mulder and Scully stiffened. She turned to them.

"Okay," she began shakily. "You'd better tell me what is going on here."

Mulder looked at her for a long time. "We can't," he said slowly and his voice was heavy with regret. "The more people we tell, the more danger we'll all be in-"

"Bullshit!" Amanda snapped angrily. "I get the distinct feeling I'm already in danger."

Scully bit her lip and moved over to the locked door. Amanda was right to react that way. She bent her head next to the edge of the door, listening outside.

Gwen addressed Mulder. "She's right."

"Yes." Amanda's face was grave. "Explain the blood tests."

Before Mulder could form the sentence in his mouth, Scully had jumped in to explain. "We are investigating the possibilty that Gwen was abducted by aliens. She may have been subjected to experiments and tests by alien beings. I know-" She chose her words carefully. "I know that it sounds unlikely but she exhibits behavior patterns commonly associated with alien abductees, and seems to have been exposed to a high level of radiation, which could explain the leukemia and the anomalies."

Mulder continued. "We believe that she has been impregnated by the aliens as part of an ongoing experiment in hybridization." He glanced at Gwen. "I think that it's safe to say that there are some factions who would be very interested in taking Gwen in for testing themselves. That's why the blood was stolen."

"They shot a doctor for a blood sample?" Amanda cried incredulously.

Scully sighed. "It looks that way."

Amanda wrapped her arms around herself as if she were suddenly cold. She stared at the floor, chewing her lip, her expression misshapen and odd. "Aliens..." she murmured.

Mulder went to her side. "Look, you said you had a shocking theory about the pregnancy?"

Amanda nodded, still reeling at what she had been told.

"Is it more shocking than what we just told you?" Gwen smiled weakly.

In a way, Amanda's reaction calmed her about the way she had been feeling. Mulder and Scully were familiar with these cases, but Amanda's shock had reminded her that the unraveling of events was far from normal. Amanda released a deeply held breath and waited a moment before speaking. "Look, I have a feeling that Gwen's baby, wherever it came from, is advancing at rates ten times faster than normal for fetal development. Like a pregnancy on steroids."

Scully blinked. "Is that humanly possible?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Amanda shrugged. "I don't know if it's because of the radiation or leukemia or aliens or what, but we keep assuming that the tests are wrong. Maybe that's not right. I mean, at this point with three separate runs under our belt, what other logical possibility exists?"

Gwen nodded. "I agree. How long can we afford to be in denial?"

Mulder sighed. "Until we figure out what to do next."

"If Amanda's right about Gwen's rate of pregnancy advancing like that, then we're running out of time." Scully squinted at the ceiling for a moment, doing the math. "At that estimate, Gwen's baby is due in about three days."

Their eyes turned to Gwen's stomach, lost somewhere beneath the white folds of the blouse Scully had loaned her and a full Indian skirt. Gwen stretched the fabric taut over her tummy. A round belly was beginning to appear. "I'm getting bigger."

"Oh Gwen-" Scully sounded insulted. "You should have told us."

Gwen grimaced. "I did. And it's bigger than it was last night, for sure."

Mulder touched Scully's arm before she could reply and she shut her red mouth. There was nothing they could do.

Amanda straightened up. "Well, I think we should do an ultrasound. Now."

In a few minutes they had coverged on the Lansdowne Family Planning Clinic's ultrasound suite. Amanda disappeared into the room, turning on lights and setting up the bed. "Since the only thing we can be sure of is that she's in her first trimester, we'll do a vaginal ultrasound." She called out to them. "And anyways, the picture'll be better..."

Gwen turned to Mulder and Scully, who were about to follow her into the room. She stood there a moment, blocking the doorway to them. "Do you have to come with me for this?" she asked plaintively. Mulder turned red. "Do you have to come with me everywhere? I feel like a guinea pig or a science project."

Scully looked slightly wounded. "We're trying to protect you, Gwen."

Gwen sighed resignedly. "I know."

Amanda came back into the hall. "Could you two wait outside while I get Gwen set up? It'll only be a minute or two and it can be a little embarrassing..."

Gwen beamed gratefully at her. Mulder and Scully nodded awkwardly, Mulder looking relieved. Amanda smiled sympathetically.

"I'll be discreet about it. You won't see anything too personal." Amanda explained gently. "It'll all be set up. I'll call you the minute we're ready to start.

Gwen went into the room, Amanda following after her. She stuck her head

out of the door with a quick smile. "It won't be but a minute, really," she whispered and the door sighed shut.

Alone in the deserted hallway, Mulder and Scully waited tiredly, shuffling their feet on the disinfected linoleum.

"Want to take bets on whether it's a boy or a girl?" Mulder muttered under his breath. Scully smiled wanly.

"If it's even human, " she sighed.

Amanda stuck her head out of the door. "We're ready."

Mulder and Scully followed her back into the dimly lit room where Gwen lay on a hospital bed, knees up, her belly covered with a large white sheet. Her skirt lay over a chair. A small machine with a little television monitor stood on a cart next to the bed. Amanda sat on a wheeled stool at Gwen's feet, staring at the machine intently.

The mound that was Gwen's stomach stood in relief. Even though it was small, isolated by the white sheet that covered her, Mulder couldn't help but notice that it had a dome-like appearance. Gwen's loose and casual clothes managed to obscure her body's shape.

She smiled nervously as Amanda switched on the small television set, adjusting some knobs. "I feel like a minature blimp."

Mulder averted his eyes nervously as Amanda moved her arm around between Gwen's legs under the white sheet. He examined one of the watercolour paintings on the wall. Scully waited by the door, her hands folded in front of her anxiously, watching the small television screen.

"If she's only a month into the pregnancy I don't know what we'll see...."

Amanda murmured, her eyes fixed on the tiny television monitor. The black and white picture flickered and vacillated. "But it's a real-time ultrasound, and if I move the transducer around-"

"There!" Scully cried excitedly, pointing to a ghostly shape in the darkened gloom of the ultrasound monitor. "Something moved!"

Mulder, his awkwardness forgotten, ran to Scully's side. "Where?" he demanded breathlessly.

Gwen's face was flushed. "Oh my God, can you see it?"

Amanda squinted at the flickering fan-shaped display, searching out a dim image. She minutely adjusted the transducer. "Aha! There...HE is."

"A boy?!" Gwen sat up a bit more, straining to see the monitor. The image was knocked offscreen. Amanda clucked her tongue at her and wriggled the ultrasound attachment inside Gwen slightly.

Mulder turned to Scully. "HE!" His voice was high and excited. Colour came to his face.

Scully brought her hands to her mouth, leaning in to see the faint flickering fetus that lingered on the darkened screen. "Oh my. Oh my God," she murmured through her fingers, eyes wide. "There it is. It's a 'he'..." An awed smile came to her lips.

Amanda adjusted the television screen. "Let me try to clarify it a bit..." she muttered, peering at the ghost on the screen. A minute later, she drew back from it, her face frozen. She pointed at a gaunt shadow on the monitor. "Oh, Dana..." she breathed. "You're right. It's not human..."

The grey image floated in a sea of darkness, the waves of the ultrasound fanning across the image every few seconds like a radar. Mulder peered at the screen. A massively enlarged head seemed to squint outward at them with a detached expression. Beneath the huge, almost transparent head, the rest of its body curled away, legs and arms tucked. The eye sockets were tiny forty-five degree slits.

"What do you see?" Gwen cried anxiously at their astonished silence, her voice tremulous. Scully shook her head at the screen.

"I don't know what to think, Mulder..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes glued to the image that fluttered before them. "I never- I just don't know... it's so alien...."

Mulder put his hand on her shoulder and realized that she was shaking.

"Ultrasound images can look like aliens." Amanda guided the transducer around, getting different views. "But this is definitely not human...."

Gwen sat up more, knocking the transducer out of her hand for a moment.

Tears had started to course down her face. "What? What is it?" she cried.

"What do you see? Is he alive?"

"He's alive..." Amanda said slowly, her eyes never leaving the image before her. "But I'd have to say he doesn't take after your side of the family."

She nodded at Mulder. "In the cabinet door over there we store blank video

cassettes. I say we tape this for posterity." She held out her keys to him.

Scully reached out and touched the ultrasound monitor, fingers moving deftly over the glass as if she could touch it. "There is a method of measuring it so we can tell when it was conceived..." she whispered.

Amanda shook her head. "A normal baby, yes."

Mulder returned quickly, unwrapping the plastic off the video cassette, unwilling to miss a moment of what was transpiring. "It has nothing to do with conception, Scully. They might have implanted the fetus in Gwen already half-grown."

Amanda angled the monitor around for Gwen to see. "There he is," she said, indicating the grey shadow on the screen. Gwen sank back against the bed in awe.

"There he is," Gwen repeated faintly, the tears drying on her face. "He looks a little like E.T."

Scully broke into a grin as Mulder slipped the cassette into the VCR located beneath the ultrasound monitor. She noticed that he was practivally hyperventilating.

"This will be the first real proof of the hybridization experiments!" Mulder breathed, pressing the record button.

Gwen didn't hear him. "What are we going to do with the little guy?"

Scully turned to Gwen. "This isn't safe, Gwen. There's no way of ensuring that either you or the baby will survive."

Gwen hung her head. Of course Scully made sense, but seeing the ultrasound further convinced her otherwise. "But he's mine, Dana. He belongs to me- how can I...?"

Amanda measured the fetus onscreen with her fingers. "He looks like he's about three months old. We'd better move fast for an abortion-" She cast a sidelong glance at Gwen. "If that's what we want."

Gwen rolled her head on the pillow, suddenly frustrated. "I don't know what I want..." She closed her eyes.

Amanda turned to Mulder. "That's really about as long as we should go for an ultrasound. Do you have all the home movies you need?"

He nodded. "Yeah, sure..." he said absently, looking over at Scully. She stared unwaveringly at the fetus on the screen, watching the image fade and wink out even after Amanda had clicked the device off.

Amanda pulled out the video cassette from the VCR and handed it to Mulder. "Whatever you decide to do..." she said uneasily. "let me give you some addresses."

She ushered Mulder and Scully out into the hall to wait while she dismantled the ultrasound machine and Gwen got dressed. This time Gwen's drawstring skirt did need a little loosening and Amanda noted this but said nothing.

When they emerged into the brightly lit hallway again, Amanda led them back to the reception desk. The receptionist looked up at the group, her face haggard with worry.

"He's gone into a coma," she said simply. "I got the call ten minutes ago. They don't expect him to come out."

Amanda didn't react to this. Instead she grabbed the rolodex off of the secretary's desk and started flipping through it. "It seems that the other interested parties that you were speaking of have tracked you here." She pointed to some cards in the rolodex, holding it open while Scully copied the information onto a notepad. "So whatever you decide to do, this clinic isn't safe anymore. My suggestion is one of these private surgeons."

Scully finished copying and flipped her notebook shut. She smiled wearily at Amanda. "Thanks for all your help."

Gwen reached out and shook her hand. "Yes, thanks."

Amanda nodded, and opened the rolodex again, checking something. "If you live in Maryland- the National Leukemia Society is in Towson. I would get that development checked out as soon as possible." She grinned warmly at Gwen, walking them to the glass doors in front. "Best of luck with all of this."

Mulder reached out and shook Amanda's hand as well. "We may be needing you again in the future. Is that all right?"

She nodded, smiling gravely as she unlocked the bulletproof doors to let them out. "You know my address...."

Sometime in the middle of the morning, sandwiched between case files that needed to be reviewed and approving reports, there was a bold knock on Assistant Director Skinner's door. He looked up, rubbing his head.

"Come in."

Skinner had mixed feelings about these interruptions. It was a relief to be distracted, the work of looking over problem investigations, reviewing cases that had been closed a tediously detailed job. But at the same time, he felt like he could never get a moment's peace.

A burly agent opened the door wide and stepped through, bustling his way into the office. He seemed broad enough to split the seams of the cheap navy blue blazer that he wore and Skinner smiled at this, although the agent misinterpreted it as friendliness.

It was the Special Agent in Charge of the Criminal Investigations Unit and Skinner hadn't decided to be friendly yet. The agent held a sheaf of papers in his hand.

Skinner nodded at it. "Is that for me, Agent Francusi?"

"Yes sir," Francusi said, slipping them across the desk at him. Skinner picked them up, fanning through them and then set them down again, disinterested. "I was told to make sure you saw a copy." There was a long pause.

"And what is it?" Skinner asked, let the papers lie there. Francusi looked down, his cheeks darkening. The Assistant Director tapped the papers on his desk. "This is twenty pages long Francusi. Could you possibly sum it up for me?"

Suddenly he wanted to be back reviewing case files. Francusi looked awkward. "It's a copy of an act, sir," he said vaguely. When Skinner waited for more, he continued. "It's in the code of federal regulations, which would mean that it's something that we would have to enforce, sir."

Skinner decided that he didn't want to be friendly. "I'm aware that we enforce federal regulations, Agent Francusi. What is it? Is it something that we haven't been vigilant about?" He had to draw fact out of the man like he were a reluctant witness.

"Well," Francusi began, looking uncomfortable in his small suit. "It forbids contact with extra-terrestrials."

Silence hung suspended between the two men.

Skinner shut his eyes. "Is that normally something we concern ourselves with?"

Francusi shuffled his feet nervously. "No sir. But it is a federal offense and anyone who fits this description can be jailed and fined."

Skinner picked the papers up and leafed through them. "Where does it say that? Where did you get this?"

"Title 14, section 1211...right at the back," Francusi offered helpfully. Skinner quickly turned pages, skimming the document. "I was told that it came from the Justice Department."

Skinner found the section and read through it quickly, shaking his head. "'1211.201: 'persons touched directly or been in close proximity to....eligible for indefinite quarantine.'-" He looked up at Francusi in disbelief. "What is this B.S.?"

"I assume we're supposed to enforce it...." Francusi mumbled.

Skinner threw the pile of papers to the other corner of his desk. "This is for astronauts, Francusi. NASA can enforce it."

Francusi shook his head. "No sir. It's for everybody. They're worried about space viruses-"

"'space Viruses'-" Skinner repeated flatly.

"And I've been informed that there is a woman wanted now, under this law. They want us to bring her in." Francusi explained.

"They want us to arrest a woman who claims she's seen a UFO?" Skinner made sure to double-check the babble that poured forth from Francusi's lips. He was normally accustomed to this type of ranting from Agent Mulder. Francusi nodded. "Yes sir. She's pregnant and they-"

"They?"

"The Justice Department wants us to locate her and quarantine her in case her baby is harmed. They said she might be sick and refusing medical attention."

Skinner sat back in his chair. "So now we're the Department of Social Services?" he snapped. Francusi looked downward. "How do they expect us to find her? Put out an APB for a pregnant woman who thinks she's seen a UFO?"

Francusi shook his head, a thin glaze of sweat coating his face. "I don't know sir. I just though you should know."

"It's garbage, Francusi," Skinner announced and picked up his pen. Francusi stood there, slighted. Skinner sighed. "Yes, Agent Francusi, I should know about this. Thank you."

Francusi looked relieved and backed away from him, turning to the door.

"Thank you sir."

"Refer any further queries from the Justice Department to me." Skinner picked up the papers again, his eyes darting over the text. "Don't assign anybody to this case, Francusi. We're understaffed as it is. Okay?" He pulled together a smile for the man.

Francusi nodded and pulled open the door, clearly thankful to be released.

"Yes sir."

The smell of roasting coffee wafted through the powdery orange sunlight that inched its way along the painted walls of the small doughnut shop.

Gwen stared at a copy of the Washington Post that one of the temporary people had left lying on the counter. It was open at the business section and she let her hazy eyes unfocus on the ordered rows of stock figures. The average amount of time anybody stayed in the doughnut shop was a minute and fifty seconds; this she had worked out. People came and went, mere shadows breezing by her as she sat and sat, her baby growing inside of her uncontrollably. She had sat there all through the lunch hour, through to the crawling afternoon, occasionally glancing out of the window at the FBI headquarters thar sat smugly across the street.

Deep inside her straw bag, her phone rang.

The other lost souls perched at the counter with her lifted their heads annoyedly, looking around for the phone's owner. Gwen wiped her sugary fingers on her skirt and rummaged for her telephone. As she bent over her bag, she felt an unusual motion in her stomach, a sensation that was over as soon as she registered feeling it. As she lifted the cell-phone to her ear, she was struck by the strangeness of the entity in her womb. For a second, an embarrassed digust washed over her, a feeling of unwelcomed invasion. A stranger was using her body for a home, eating her food, stealing her warmth. Nausea overcame her.

"Hello?" She tried sounding normal. The patrons of the doughnut shop pretended not to listen.

It was Mulder. "Gwen - where are you?"

"Across the street at the doughnut shop."

"Look, I just got a message from Skinner - the FBI's looking for you. Somehow the Criminal Investigations Unit got sent orders to pick up a pregnant woman who's seen a UFO. Pretty vague, I know, but they're going to start looking."

Gwen said nothing and turned her head to see the Hoover Building outside. It didn't look any different.

Mulder continued. "I've got a copy of the description, 'late thirties, long brown hair, green eyes'..."

"That's not rare." Gwen spoke quietly. She could tell that some of the down-and-outs at the doughnut shop resented her cell phone phone. "I know, but all the same. Stay away from the Hoover Building. Be careful, they're drawing the net tighter."

Gwen rubbed her head. "Where do I go? Can I go home?" As frightened as she was of being alone, she longed for familiarity. She felt more ungrounded than ever.

"Sure. Just don't go shopping for three-toed baby booties - they might alert maternity stores, and stay in touch often."

"Yep." Gwen signed off the phone and stood up. She knew she wasn't welcome any more at the doughnut shop. After she had settled her bill, she hoisted her straw bag up on her shoulder and pulled the door closed behind her. She moved out onto the street to find a cab that would take her, and the creature in her stomach that only half-belonged, home.

The cab did a U-turn in the dusty dirt road that stretched in front of her secluded home and Gwen walked up the steps. As the car rumbled off in the dirty cloud it had kicked up, she was filled with a sense of forboding. The dust settled, all was quiet and suddenly she desperately needed the hustle bustle of the city.

She paused at her front door, feeling something shift in her stomach. It was undeniable this time - the baby was alive. She imagined it tearing apart her womb from the inside with its small but powerful fingers, clawing its way to freedom at the cost of its host. Her hands grabbed the doorframe, leaning against it for support from her dizzy thoughts.

The door swung open loosely, displaying her front hall to her, and it was then that she noticed that the door handle and lock mechanism had been removed, cut away whole from her door. All that remained was a jagged, splintering cut in the wood where the handle used to be.

She did not have to step inside to see that someone had been in. Books were scattered across the floor in the front hall like birds in desperate flight and her Tibetan Buddhist Tanka hung askew on the wall. Her long white curtains dangled lazily in a broken window, and as she stumbled in, she saw homeless plants, their clay pots shattered on the dirt strewn floor next to them.

She stood in the main hall and from there she could see that all the rooms were the same; she kept a spartan existence, and yet someone had taken great care to ensure her few posessions were destroyed or misplaced.

The wind thudded the door dully into the wall behind her, and she jumped, her heart in her throat. The baby shifted deep inside her and she felt assailed from all sides. She had to get back to the state she was in before she had all of this happen to her.

Without another thought, she turned and ran out, leaving the the empty house and door swinging wide in the wind behind her. She was too distraught to call a taxi and she walked along the County Road Nine in a frantic state. Instead Gwen ploughed along as quickly as she could, her cell-phone in hand, the flowering weeds in the road passing underneath her feet. She thought and thought, her convoluted mind making the miles seem like minutes as she plodded onward. Somewhere along the way she made a monumental decision.

Her ankles started to feel hot and balloony and she took off her shoes and sat down in the grass. She called the Hagerstown Uneeda Cab company and in a few minutes the same dusty cab rolled up, gravel popping beneath its wheels.

Gwen dug out the addresses that Amanda had given her for private surgeons and directed the cabdriver to take her there. As if it could read her thoughts, the alien in her womb was restless and seemed to struggle against her the whole time.

At the offices of Dr. Effriam Freed, the receptionist gave her a walk-in appointment, swayed by Gwen's wild-eyed vehemence. As the next patient emerged from the office, she ran over and wedged herself in the doorway. "Dr. Freed - you have to see me now!" she cried, her voice high and insistent, like she were an obsessed fan of his.

Dr. Freed, a balding lanky man in his late thirties, looked at her a moment before speaking. It was a look designed to belittle, but its magical charm fell dead on Gwen and so an expression of mild frustration replaced it.

"I'm sorry - I have some things to add to my report. It'll be a few minutes...." He turned and tried to shut the door on her but she'd worked half of her body into his office.

She shook her head. "No. This is an emergency."

He moved back to the door, lowering his voice so as not to be heard in the waiting room. "I'm sorry Ms. -, but you'll have to wait. If it's an emergency, I'm sure my receptionist can call an ambulance for you."

"No no no. I'm sorry." Gwen managed to get the rest of herself through his doorway and shut the door behind her.

"I don't keep any drugs in my office...." he began, retreating behind his desk, trying to put an object between them.

Gwen hadn't noticed how completely she had unnerved him. "It's got to be now! I was stupid to leave it this long, stupid. But I've changed my mind, and we've got to do something about it right away."

"About what?" The doctor's voice was thin and whiney.

"I'm pregnant - and I need an abortion. Right away."

Dr. Freed looked relieved. He sat down in his chair. "Well, you understand, we can't do that right away - there needs to be tests, ultrasounds-"

Gwen stood in front of his desk. "I've had an ultrasound already."

"How far along are you?" The doctor pulled out a form.

Gwen paused. How could she know for sure. "By now, probably in the fourth or fifth month."

The doctor set his pen down and stared at her. When she said nothing he spoke. "You understand that there is a certain point past which doctors won't abort unless it's life-threatening? If you are in your fifth month, that puts me in the very difficult position of telling you that I cannot perform the operation."

Gwen's eyes widened. "But I can't have this baby!"

Dr. Freed frowned. "Did someone refer you here?"

"Yes. A hematologist at the Lansdowne Family Planning Clinic named Amanda Wallis."

The doctor blinked. For a moment he looked incapable of speech. She thought he had changed his mind. "...Ah yes well...you were misinformed."

Gwen moved to the door. "I need another doctor then."

Freed quickly stood up. "No - don't leave just yet!" he said suddenly, exhibiting more emotion than he had the last few minutes. "Let me see what I can do - I'll make some calls for you, Ms. Gardiner - just sit in the waiting room and I'll phone some of my colleagues...."

Gwen frowned. "No...never mind. I've got a few other names that the hematologist gave me."

The doctor took her arm. "It won't be more than two minutes, I swear. Please just sit and rest a minute..." he said, escorting her to the waiting room and trying to sit her down gingerly. The other people waiting looked up from their magazines. "You must be very tired. Janet will get you a juice from the fridge." He nodded at the bewildered secretary.

"No, thanks." Gwen barely smiled and slithered free of his grasp. "I'll be on my way."

She nodded at the receptionist and headed out of the office. Effriam Freed ignored his receptionist's stare and ran back into his office, slamming the door behind him. He snatched the phone from its cradle and hastily dialed a number, pacing. A moment later he was talking. "This is Doctor Effriam Freed. She was just here. Just now." He listened for a moment, rubbing the bald spot at the front of his head. "No - she's gone. She left a second ago." He stared at the door. Freed's voice cracked. "How should I know? You never told me what to do!"

He was screeching. "She's going to get it aborted."

Sweat broke out on the doctor's face as he listened. "About thirty seconds ago," he said and stopped pacing dead. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "...Well, well yes, I could, if it was necessary..." He glanced worriedly at his desk. "Yes...yes..." he mumbled, his voice slurred with fear. He hung up and pulled open the second drawer on his desk.

Withdrawing the gun that sat atop the case histories, he stuffed it in his pants and decisively pulled open the door.

"I'm going out for a minute...." he announced as he rushed past the front desk and the patients gathered in his waiting room.

The traffic on the busy boulevard sped past the woman waddling quickly on the hot sidewalk. Gwen's mind wheeled around in ellipses and the heat of the late afternoon bounced back up at her from the glittering black asphalt that stretched four lanes out beside her.

She had seen a cab stand further up Memorial Boulevard and she marched onwards towards it, through the exhaust and noisy cars. She needed to clear her mind.

Dana, as always, had been quite right all along and Gwen suffered at the hands of her own caustic thoughts, blaming herself for the whole ordeal.

She should have agreed to an abortion the instant it was offered, but instead, she had blindly insisted on bringing the child to term. What if no doctor would abort it now? The handsome salary the FBI fed her, coupled with her absurdly huge retainer fee, had her wondering if she could bribe a doctor to do the operation. Evil thoughts of making a last ditch attempt to do it herself flooded her mind.

Horrified at her own desperation, and the circumstances that brought her there, she hardly noticed as the wine-coloured Jaguar slowed down and crept along the curb behind her, like a boat mooring. The humid sunlight gleaming dully off of the silver hood ornament caught her eye as the car edged its way to a stop slightly ahead of her.

She walked up to the car as the driver rolled the window down. It was Dr. Freed, still in his shirtsleeves, the hair he had carefully arranged around his bald spot blown askew by the wind.

"Hi...?" she said, approaching the window. He turned and looked at her hollowly, his eyes seeing straight through her. He did not lean out of the window, but instead stayed in the car.

"Ms. Gardiner...." he said, bringing his hand up. In it was a black gun, and it matched the shiny leather interior of the car. With a fluid motion he pointed it at the bulge in her stomach, taking aim.

Without thinking, Gwen fled, turning up a driveway into a Speedy Muffler store that loomed in front of her. A shot was fired and she almost didn't feel the sting on her ankle. The mechanics in their garage, with the door open, car up on the hydraulic lift, didn't turn around. The sound of drills and bad mufflers barely hid the sound of the Jag's door being thrown open, but Gwen heard it, and ran straight into the garage.

As she hurtled herself towards the back door and the alleyway behind, the baby was obligingly cooperative, as if it knew that an attempt had just been made on its life. She flew down the alley, her feet pounding the greasy pavement. She had lost him temporarily, but she kept running, knowing that if he had dared fire on her in broad daylight on a busy boulevard, then he wasn't going to give up easily.

She ducked into the open back door of a Chinese restaurant, the smell of steam and fried noodles hitting her like a humid blanket. The adrenaline flowed like mercury through her veins. Pushing her way through the kitchen doors into the restaurant, she bumped into tables, spilling soups and sending won-tons and egg rolls flying. She ducked behind a sparkling fountain of a buddha in the red and gold entranceway, and half concealed herself behind the bamboo curtains, pulling her phone out of her straw bag.

She frantically dialed Mulder's extension number, her fingers shaking. The phone, as always, was answered on the first ring.

"M-" Mulder had hardly spoken.

"Mulder!" Gwen shouted into the phone. She was so distressed she did not think to call him by his first name. "Mulder! Somebody's trying to kill me!" She lowered her voice until it was a panicked stage whisper.

"What - Gwen?" Mulder asked. "Where are you?!"

Gwen quickly looked around her. "At a Chinese Food Place on Memorial Boulevard in Hagerstown - he tried to shoot me! He came after me in his car - he's still after me-"

Mulder sounded worried and displeased. "Okay, Gwen. Can you drive somewhere?"

"No, no I don't have a car, remember? Oh God - what am I going to do?!"

The longer she stood in the same place, the more nervous she became. Her rapidly expanding size made her difficult to conceal.

"Gwen - get a taxi to the Lansdowne Clinic, okay? Amanda will hide you. Scully and I will meet you there."

"Right." Gwen panted.

"Be careful." Mulder's voice was tense. "And sometime will you please buy a car?"

Gwen signed off and hid the phone deep in her bag with trembling hands.

Emerging from behind the curtain she saw a bemused looking Chinese woman in a red satin jacket staring at her. Gwen smiled weakly and went through the front door back onto the main street again. She stopped only momentarily to look for the burgundy Jaguar.

The car was still parked further up the street, the motor running, emergency flashers on. She moved further up the street, paying no heed to her now wet stinging ankle. A cab passed her by and she waved it down frantically. It slowed to a stop just as Dr.Freed ran out of a laneway between two stores further down, gun in hand. He scanned the street and caught sight of her. Their eyes locked across the distance and it froze Gwen's blood.

Gwen scrambled at the door of the taxi, nearly yanking it off its hinges as she threw herself in. "Go go go!" she screamed at the baffled driver, as she slammed the door so hard she practically rolled the car. The cabbie obligingly pulled out into the traffic. Gwen peered through the rear window. "That man is following me."

The cabbie glanced in his rear-view mirror as Gwen crouched down on the back seat. The doctor spotted the cab pulling away and ran towards his car, parked a block away.

"So he is..." the cab driver remarked with some amazement, and floored the gas. The cab leapt in front of the other cars, cutting a few off, and skillfully went through a red light. "Anywhere in particular?" the driver asked.

Gwen shook her head. "Just get me away from him." She reached down and touched her ankle. Bleeding, she brushed the wound with her fingers and a fragment of something embedded in her leg came loose in her hand. For an instant she thought it was a bullet, but when she looked at it she realized it was a sharp fragment of grey cement. He must have missed completely and struck the pavement, sending a shard of concrete into her.

She held her bloodied fingers up for the driver to see. "Look at what he did."

The cabbie saw, grimaced, and reached into his glove compartment for some Handi-Wipes which he handed over to Gwen. "Wanna go to the hospital or the police station?"

The acidy lemon water of the towelette stung her cut badly. "No," she managed between clenched teeth. "Can you take me to the Lansdowne Clinic in Baltimore?"

The driver nodded, and with the blood-coloured Jaguar nowhere in sight, the taxi pulled onto the I-70.

The cabfare was adding up, and as they approached the Clinic, Gwen checked her wallet. She was down to her last five dollars and insisted on stopping at an ATM so she could pay the driver. The machine smarmily informed her in its bright orange writing that she had "Insufficient Funds".

"My accounts are frozen!" Gwen cried, as she got back in the car. She was near tears. "What am I going to pay you with?"

The driver pulled the cab out of the parking lot and headed towards the Clinic. "Don't worry about it," he said, shrugging. "You were being chased by that guy. You're in some kind of trouble." He winked at her in the mirror. "I hope it wasn't for robbing cab drivers."

She smiled and shook her head at him. "Oh God, thanks so much...." she sighed and settled back in the seat.

The Cabbie nodded. "You got hurt - I'm taking you to a clinic, no problem. Not that I'm an ambulance..." he said nonchalantly and then turned right around to face her in the seat. He made a little jabbing gesture with his finger at her roundening belly while she sat bolted in fear as he drove without looking at the road. "But maybe you'll name the little guy after me, if he's a boy, you know?"

At the very last minute, before they hurtled into the oncoming traffic, the cab driver turned his attention back to the road, laughing.

Gwen went a deep red and stared out of the window, saying nothing.

The three of them rode in silence until Mulder merged onto the Interstate, free at last of Baltimore's clogged arteries, driving freely, the windows rolled down. He pushed the car as fast as he dared go safely, and Gwen's long, loose brown hair buffeted her face in the wind, the speed of the car a dizzying liberation. At last they were going somewhere.

She leaned over the front seat and told them of how she had left the doughnut shop to return home, only to find her house blasted open and raped, and how she had decided at that moment to seek an abortion. She told them of how she had arbitrarily chosen a surgeon from Amanda's list of doctors, and how he had refused and then tried to keep her there, but she had walked out. She told them of how the doctor had chased her in his car and then explained how she had run, lugging her widening body through alleyways and restaurants. She told them about the Clinic and how she had learned of Amanda's death. And lastly, she told them of the strange young man that approached her.

Windows were rolled up, and the sun had finally disappeared below the New Jersey farmlands that they drove past. Gwen lay stretched accross the back seat, eyes half-shut, a comfortable drowse settling on her.

Mulder's face had grown grimmer with every minute Gwen's story had continued, and he drove with a tight jaw. "I don't know if we're going to the right place...." he commented at last.

Scully sat up in her seat. "What do you mean?"

"They're closing in, Scully. They're way ahead of us."

Scully's dismayed face was lit slightly by the instruments on the console.

"What? You think we should change our plans?" she shrugged. "I mean, Mulder, you haven't even told us where we're going."

"Massachusetts," Gwen intoned sleepily from the back. "The Bay State."

As he drove, Mulder reached into his breast pocket and handed Scully an old, scratched, silver key. She turned it over in her hands.

"We're going to the Vineyard," he said, eyes never leaving the darkened road ahead.

"Your father's-?" Scully asked, somewhat amazed.

Mulder's expression did not change. "My Dad's place. I inherited it after he died. That's the key to the front door. Hang on to it."

Scully sensed the residue of Mulder's sorrow and put a hand on his arm.

"Why are you giving this to me?" she asked softly. Mulder shook his head at some thought he had.

"Just in case."

The endless ribbon of yellow line that divided the highway bore itself into Mulder's brain and in a few hours they decided to pull off onto a side road and find a store where they could get some food and stretch their legs.

They followed a sign that pulled them off the toll highway, promising food, camping and a service station at the exit for New Sharon, New Jersey. "We must have made a wrong turn...." Mulder commented quietly to Scully as the roads grew narrower and narrower, tree lined and devoid of streetlamps.

No cars passed them, and no signs interrupted the monotonous forested blackness that enveloped them.

"Where's the highway?" Scully inquired, leaning forwards and pressing her face up against the windshield. "Which way was it?"

Mulder pointed out his window. "Over there - see the light over the trees?"

Without warning, the dashboard lights which had illuminated their faces flashed out, and the car's engine stalled without a sound of resistance. In the darkness, the colour drained from Mulder's face, providing it with a lumination of its own. "Oh no..." His voice was quiet. The car silently rolled to a gentle stop. Scully turned to him in the darkness, her eyes wide.

She reached for his arm. "Mulder...." she said worriedly.

Gwen, awakening from her doze, sat upright. "Is the car broken? Just my luck-"

Blinding light exploded forth, rising over the treetops like an artifical dawn, filling the sky with a luminosity so bright they could practically hear it. It sounded like rushing, violent wind, and over it, Scully frantically fumbled for her gun.

Mulder whirled around to Gwen, who was clutching the seatbelt in the back with a white knuckled grasp. "It's them!" he shouted at her above the unbearable sound of the light. "They're back! Give me your arm!-"

"Oh God!" Gwen screamed upwards at the source of the metallic, chrome-bright glare that shattered the quiet night.

"Give me your arm-!" Mulder dove into the back seat with Gwen and pulled a pair of brilliantly gleaming handcuffs out of his pocket. "I'm not going to let you go!" he hollered at her over the noise and blinding light. He clapped a cuff over her wrist and then the other other his own.

He kicked open the door of the car, and the sound and glaring white light rushed in at them like it were water. He pulled Gwen out of the car, shackled to her, as the inhuman sound of wind elevated to a deafening garishly grinding noise. Scully ran over to them, her hands over her ears.

Mulder gestured off to the side of the road and they ran togther, tripping down into a gully and then up an enbankment into the dense woods. The forest was brightly illuminated, every branch, leaf and log standing out in sharp white bas relief, as if caught in a perpetual burst of lightning. Scully leapt ahead of them, running and fumbling for her handcuffs, stumbling over rocks and plants, while Mulder dragged Gwen along behind him.

Several times she fell and Mulder had yanked her half-up to standing with his cuffed hand and ruthlessly tugged her forward.

The rising wind blew twigs and leaves stinging into their faces, and under the spotlight white light the thrashing leaves' shadows cast a frantically twitching silhouette over the entire forest. Dead ahead of them was a huge tree, moss flashing across its trunk. Scully fell against it as the noise reached a deafening crescendo. Mulder threw Gwen to the tree as well and she clung to it, her eyes tightly shut, even then unable to block out the light. "Gwen!" Scully screamed, the wind whipping the words out of her mouth. "Give me your other hand!"

Seeing Scully's lips move but unable to make out what she had said, when Scully extended her arm out towards her, she did the same and Scully tried to cuff her. Mulder covered his ears with his hands, the roaring sound overwhelming him. It overpowered his knees, and weakly he sank down against the trunk, the rough bark ripping at his shirt, smearing damp moss down one sleeve.

He dragged Gwen down with him and Scully's brilliant silver handcuffs closed around nothing. Gwen grasped the metal circle in her hand and Scully hunched down with them, huddling about the trunk. Caught in the flare of light, they cowered, hands over their ears, the roaring so total that it engulfed all other sound.

Her thoughts blinded and confused, Scully wondered if her eardrums had popped. It was as if within the incredible noise was contained all other sound and it ate up time, removing all references to it in its all-encompassing sound.

For a minute, Scully thought she heard Gregorian Chants mixed into the barrage, the intonation of monks slowed down until it was a omnivorous growl. Gwen, huddled against the tree as tightly as she could, squeezed her eyes shut and saw coloured dancing lights surging and fading. And Mulder, pressing his face into the hard tree bark, would later swear that Nancy Sinatra was buried in the onslaught of sound, vibrating the air. The tree swayed and trembled like it were a skyscraper in an earthquake, and new leaves rained down on them by the bucketful, like stark confetti, covering them up.

And then it stopped. As if someone had flicked a switch, they were instantly returned to the cool, quiet night. Darkness engulfed them, a few leaves still fluttering down from the branches stretched out above. The sweet silence returned, fresh and seamless like a stretch of a calm, perfect lake and no one moved.

Finally Mulder groaned and lifted his head from the tree trunk, pulling his face loose of the bark with some difficulty. "Is everybody okay?!" His voice was gravelly and hoarse, his vocal chords in tattered shards after trying to shout over the noise.

"Was I unconcious?!" Gwen released Scully's handcuffs and uncurled herself. She barely heard Mulder over the ringing in her ears, a roaring residue of what they had experienced. Blood flowed freely from her nose and dripped down onto the white blouse Scully had loaned her, a black stain in the dark.

Scully sat up, a similar nosebleed smeared above her lips. "What time is it?!" She held up her wrist, flashing them her watch, the glass face of it shattered and cracked. She blinked. "Mulder, you're both bleeding-!"

Mulder and Gwen simultaneously wiped at their faces.

"You too!" Gwen noted. "Am I shouting?!"

Mulder stiffly got to his feet. "Probably!" he hollered back at her.

The forest was now midnight black and only the thin sliver of moon filtered down through the remaining leaves of the tree that had protected them. The bushes, trees and logs were vague outlines in the darkness. Mulder helped Gwen to stand, and unhandcuffed her.

"The Bay State doesn't seem like such a brilliant idea anymore..."

A few hours after that, late into the night, Mulder steered his unremarkable car into an all-night convenience store that hovered in a flourescent haze off of one of the deeply forested back roads of northern New York. A little creative clothes swapping was done, and in a moment Mulder stepped out of the car into the neon oasis, still wearing his sap stained shirt. He was followed by Gwen sporting his suit jacket, and Scully wearing her blazer well-buttoned, her blood stained blouse a white wrinkled ball in her hand.

Mulder tugged open the battered screen door to Mike's 24-Hour Stop 'n Go Minimart, dark circles of exhaustion ringing his eyes.

"I don't know why we hadn't thought of this earlier...." Scully mumbled under her breath as she and Gwen stepped into the garishly lit store.

Mulder came behind, closing the door firmly after them, ready to put their plan into action.

Scully scooped up a bright red plastic shopping basket and immediately lost herself in the aisles, amongst the cheesies and toothpaste. Mulder browsed the candy bar section like a wine critic, weighing his options, his back turned as Gwen approached the cash.

Her presence did not go unnoticed by the teenage cashier, who had only feigned interest in his skateboard magazine since she and Scully had entered. They were the only women to appear in the desolate wasteland of his eight-hour graveyard shift. He sized them up, keeping his head bent over pictures of lanky young men like himself, fearlessly defying gravity with their skateboards. The redhead was feisty-looking and wore dark lipstick, which pleased him, but the taller brunette, her long hair tangled and wild, had a friendly expression. His adolescent mind turned to thoughts of threesomes, and the letters page of Hustler magazine.

The brunette approached the cash area. "Hi...." she said breathlessly.

Something stirred in the cashier's pants. This was how every story on the letters page of Hustler began. He laid his magazine across his lap. "Hi."

He tilted his head rakishly at her, his stringy hair hanging in his face.

"I was wondering...." she began, as the redhead joined her at the cash. "...do you have a restroom we could use?"

"Sure," the cashier replied and unhooked the keys from beneath the counter. He handed them to the brunette, making sure his fingers brushed hers. "Just bring them back to me when you're done."

"Of course," the brunette smiled graciously and nodded at the redhead.

"I'll be along in a second..." the redhead nodded back as the brunette sauntered out of the store.

The cashier turned his attention to the redhead in front of him. The fixed expression on her face did not change, even when she pulled her mouth into a cursory smile. She bought bandages, rubbing alcohol, a set of razor sharp Exacto knives, a topical anesthetic for sore gums, rubber gloves and a can of rootbeer.

Gwen unlocked the door to the dark, closetlike bathroom, and was instantly hit with the over-sanitized smell of septic tank cleaner. She closed the door behind herself and stood on the toilet to angle the murky glass transom open a bit more, cool, fresh, unscented air diluting the smell of the chemical disinfectants. The flourescent lighting flashed and flickered off of the dull white tiles.

In a moment there was a knock at the door. "It's me."

It was Scully, and Gwen admitted her. As she locked the door again, Scully laid her bag of provisions on the sink.

"Phoo-" Scully wrinkled her nose. "Smells like-"

"Septic tank cleaner." Gwen finished. "Where do you want me to stand?"

Scully glanced around herself and then pointed at the toilet. Gwen dutifully positioned herself. Scully took an Exacto knife out of her shopping bag and poured the alcohol over it.

"Lift up your hair-"

She swabbed the back of Gwen's neck with rubbing alcohol. Rubber gloves on, Scully squeezed a dollop of the topical anesthetic onto her middle finger and felt around under Gwen's hairline at the base of her neck with the other hand. Her sensitive fingers slid over a small raised lump, and she smeared the anesthetic over it in a few smooth, exact gestures.

"Is that it?" Gwen asked from beneath her hair. Rinsing off her hands and standing ready with the knife, Scully nodded.

"Uh huh. " She sounded distant, absorbed in mental calculations. "Can you feel this?"

"What?" Gwen asked and Scully nodded again.

"Good. I'm going to start. Let me know if it hurts."

"Without a doubt."

And in a moment, it was over and Scully was wiping at the incision with rubbing alcohol. She then positioned and stuck a bandage over the area, like an artist putting the finishing touches on a painting. She folded Gwen's hair back carefully over the spot and patted her arm. "All done," Scully informed her, dropping a small silver chip into Gwen's hand. "This is what I removed."

Gwen peered closely at the glittery metallic chip. "What is it?"

Scully washed her hands. "I don't know. It's almost the same as the one I had excised from my neck. Mulder and I suspect that's why they've been able to track us."

"Hm," said Gwen thoughtfully and dropped it into the toilet. It rotated, twinkling, a star fallen out of orbit, as it sank to the bottom of the bowl. Scully reached over and decisively flushed the toilet.

"Come on," she said in a burst of fresh air, opening the door, and turned out the light.

A few hours after the nondescript car pulled away from Mike's 24 Hour Stop 'n Go Minimart, in the bleary-eyed moments before the sun rose, the cashier, nodding off into a comfortable doze, fell off his stool.

At first he thought he had let his body relax too much and that in his groggy sleep he had tried to stretch or roll over, knocking him off his small seat, but then, as he opened his eyes fully, he saw the store begin to vibrate.

It began slowly at first, shelves trembled, boxes of cereal and cans of soup shimmying their way slowly to the edge and plunging off. The flourescent lights swung and as the cashier scrambled to his feet, cartons of cigarettes tumbled down onto his head, burying him in a pile of tobacco warnings. The soft drink dispenser pitched off the counter, spraying its syrupy carbonation into the air and the shelves began to rock back and forth, pitching and yawing like joyful swings. The magazine rack collapsed, magazines slipping soundlessly to the floor in an avalanche like brightly coloured schools of tropical fish.

And suddenly, a nuclear-cold white flash drenched the store in stark relief. It bleached the colours of the garish cereal boxes, chip bags, and toys, a brightness so blinding the cashier could hear it. The sound tore at the air like a jet engine, shredding apart his very vision.

His retinas were burnt before he was even aware of being blinded, the sterile negative imprint of the wrecked store scored into his ocular nerves, and he struggled to stand, clutching at the counter weakly. He did not see the uniformed soldiers in black pounce upon the store, bursting through the doorway, smashing through the glass.

Their boots crushed the soda-sticky mess of junk food beneath their feet as they swarmed through the store, helmeted and alert, moving nimbly. They went past the cashier to the back of the store, overturning anything left standing, pushing debris aside, searching.

The cashier sensed he was not alone, and he screamed over the sound that choked him, his voice utterly lost, one hand groping blindly toward the men that now flooded back out of the store like a quick stream of ants. One of the black-uniformed men pulled away from the line to stand in front of the unseeing cashier, who reached a terrified wavering hand towards him.

They did not find what they were looking for. They shot the cashier dead.

This time, Scully drove, watching bleary-eyed as the first dew-soaked twinklings of an early dawn began to tint the edges of the sky with gold.

Mulder snuffled and snored fitfully beside her, his lanky frame never at ease in the cramped passenger seat.

Gwen, in the back, was exhausted but awake, and she and Scully had been talking. The swelling mound of her stomach had grown massively during their trip, and the baby's kicking and squirming had subsided a little. It wouldn't be long now, she knew, before the baby would have no need of her and shed her body like an ugly carcass. Even though it frightened her, as each moment passed, Gwen became more at ease with the baby.

The idea grew on her with the same steady sureness that the pregnancy had progressed at, and now as she leaned over into the front seat, she had one hand on her belly protectively.

Scully too, had become more at ease with the concept as well. In fact, as she drove, the sense of time running out compelled her to rethink the way she had behaved towards Gwen earlier.

"I've been thinking about something you said," Scully said quietly in a voice designed not to stir Mulder. "And I want to apologize for the way I've treated you." Her expression did not change.

Gwen smiled tiredly. "Dana...."

"No." Scully's voice was firm, her eyes never leaving the road. "You were right. We treated you like a guinea pig when we should have been supporting you. We got-" Gwen saw her eyes dart briefly over at Mulder, inhaling in loud jagged breaths. "Carried away. I'm sorry."

Gwen shook her head, rubbing the smooth roundness of her tummy absentmindedly. "Don't worry. I wasn't that level-headed myself. " She brushed her long hair back out of her face. "I kinda freaked out on you."

"And the abortion," Scully continued and Gwen realized that she had been tortured by these thoughts for a while. "It's always been a confusing issue for me, and I came on a little too strong. I was speaking as a doctor, and not as a friend. I should have shown more respect for your feelings."

Gwen nodded, and opened her mouth to stop the critique, but Scully went onwards, her face dimly illuminated by the first pale colours of morning.

"I've always worried that Mulder and I get too caught up in our jobs. I try to balance out his enthusiasm with a little scientific fact, but I think I went too far...I should have felt more, shown more empathy." She took a deep breath, and glanced at Mulder to make sure he was still dozing. "I was frightened. I tried to distance myself when I should have been there for you. I'm sorry-"

"Please, Dana." Gwen reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "Don't feel bad. It's nice enough to hear you say that we're friends-"

Abruptly, a police car passing them in the other direction slammed on its brakes and squealed a black streak into the pavement, wheeling into a wide U-turn in their direction.

Scully glanced into the mirror. "Oh-" Her mouth bent in dismay and without warning, she pressed down hard on the accelerator.

The car leapt forward and Mulder was thrown against his seatbelt. He struggled awake, fighting for clarity.

"What happened?" He spoke quickly but his mouth had to catch up with him.

He followed Scully's gaze in the rear-view mirror and then turned around in his seat.

"The police are following us," Scully said by way of explanation, and pushed the car faster, a look of determination settling on her face. Mulder reached into the back and pushed Gwen down onto the back seat.

"Get down-" he told her. She obliged, and lay across the velour seats, her arms crossed over her stomach. The police car matched their pace, its lights flashing silently. He turned to Scully. "You want me to drive-?"

Scully's lips were tight. "No," she said and without warning, swerved the car onto an exit ramp at the last second. Mulder and Gwen were thrown against the doors. "Brace-"

Gwen hunched down on the velvety back seat of the car, and tried to draw her knees up to chest, protecting the roundness of her belly. As the car took another wild spin round, she was pressed hard up against the walls, clenching her eyes shut against the thin protesting squeal of the tires, her stomach in her throat.

The baby inside of her had calmed its struggles, perhaps aware of the turmoils of the outside world. Wind battered at its mother, blustering in from the open front windows, scattering her hair.

Up front the dialogue between Mulder and Scully was muted and terse, a telegraphic set of commands and reponses that triggered the car's wild weaving.

Gwen tried to relax amidst the bumping and jostling, but a feeling of nausea had taken hold of her, worsening with every spin and lurch of the car. Deep within her, something was happening, pulling and stretching outward from inside. She forgot all about the car's violent manoeuvering and inside focussed rapt attention on the gentle widenening motion that she felt.

It seemed to her like she was being pulled taut with an expectant swelling sensation. The baby stirred within her with a soft restlessness and Gwen suddenly felt her stomach clench.

Then the water poured forth between her legs, burbling out like an eager brook, unstoppable and joyous, warm and wet. She half sat up, an expression of surprise on her face. There had been no pain, only the slimy wetness of creation and a damp smell that floated up to her nostrils. A sense of calm wonderment and panic vyed for her attention and words would not come. Eyes wide, she tapped Mulder's shoulder. The faint odour of something sweet and wistful drifted by her.

Mulder turned back to look at her. "How are you holding up-?" he asked and his eyes fell to her hand.

She displayed her wet hand for him to see. A thin translucent liquid traced drips down her pale skin in an opalescent glaze. "...I...I-" She could not speak.

Scully's eyes had not left the road. "Funny - Mulder, do you smell roses?"

Mulder's eyes never left the glittering opalescent fluid that laced its way around Gwen's hand. He placed a trembling hand on Scully's shoulder.

"Scully," he said in an awe-filled monotone. "Scully, stop the car."

Scully was still adrenaline-wobbly from from her razor's-edge car chase, and when she glanced around over her shoulder at their cargo in the back, her throat tightened. Had Gwen miscarried, the fear and the physical distress of her evasive driving too much for her to bear? She emotionally steeled herself. They had come so far, only to find their hopes crushed.

When she turned her head, she saw Gwen roundly propped up on the seat, one arm extended, offering forth a hand that glistened in the sun like mother of pearl and a humid smell of something fragrant and sweet.

"Dana?" Gwen asked softly, as if Scully could supply an explanation. Her skirt had been soaked with something and even in the shadows of the back seat, Scully saw faint strands of misty blues and purples.

A horrible grating sound startled them all out of their confusion. The car had run onto the road's shoulder and was heading for a ditch as the road curved in front of them, the rough sound of gravel rumbling beneath its wheels.

Scully pulled the car over, her mind reeling. Suddenly she doubted how much further she was capable of driving. Edges of panic began to flutter at her stomach. Gwen had broken water or something and it was unlike anything she had ever seen.

"Oh my God," Mulder said numbly, staring at Gwen, his eyes wide with amazement. "Oh my God, Scully..."

At that, something sharp and sudden bit in to Gwen's belly and it folded her up, twisting at her insides. She cried out involuntarily, caught off guard by the strangeness of the feeling. It was as if she had been poked violently from the inside.

The moment it subsided the pain was replaced with an almost tangible claustrophobia and Gwen scrabbled at the door handle of the sedan. The sweet smell of flowers had suddenly become cloying and nauseated her. The door swung open and she practically rolled out onto the gravel roadside in her haste, heaving in fresh air.

Mulder threw open the passenger door and stood up out of the car. "Are you okay?" he asked as she struggled to her feet, her wet clothes sticking to her legs. "Where are you going?" he asked weakly as she turned and hobbled away from the car. His voice had lost any authority it had had. He sounded like a boy whose kite string had broken.

Gwen lifted her head upwards, staring at the sky, and Scully had the impression of a wild animal perched up, sniffing the wind.

Without warning, Gwen took flight, stumbling down the steep gully that bordered the road from the fields, and scrambled up the other side.

"Gwen!" Scully called, suddenly very frightened, climbing out of the car. All that Mulder had joked about immaculate conceptions flooded back to her and she froze. The magnitude of what was unfolding was thrown into stark relief and she realized she was hideously unprepared. What if she were witness to a miracle? No amount of research or empirical explanations would save her. She wasn't ready for this.

Gwen stared at them from the other side of the gully, a feral look of deperation in her eyes. "I can't!" she shouted back, in answer to their unasked questions.

She didn't want to give birth to it, Mulder realized, as she turned and ran headlong into the field. She had taken it hostage and was running away, running from the inevitable.

Mulder glanced back at Scully and there was no mistaking the panic in his eyes. They had only outdistanced the police temporarily - having located their fugitive, they would undoubtedly be back with helicopters and ground crew to scour the low grassy fields in the area.

Close to their ultimate destination, had they cleared the Canadian border there was the slightest hope that they could buy some time for Gwen while the powers that be negotiated with the Canadian government. He had been counting on the Canadians' customary reluctance with extradition cases to give them a few days to get Gwen settled somewhere safe to negotiate from.

And now, some thirty miles shy of a sleepy border crossing in Quebec, Gwen had snapped and taken flight into the fields of Vermont.

"I hope she's running towards Canada," Mulder called to Scully before turning and jogged down the steep incline and up the other side of the gully into the field as Gwen receded further into the distance.

Scully stared after them numbly for a minute, trying to sort out her emotions. Mulder had already faded deep into the grass when she finally moved and before she joined him, she crossed herself with guilty haste.

Gwen ran and ran, her feet flying beneath her, the tall bushes and burrs scratching protestingly at her wet legs, startled bugs fluttering upward from their resting places. Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, fueled by fear, a stumbling blind scramble. She was launched, running, unable to stop, a snowballing leap of panic, oblivious to the pain. Branches and brambles tore at Mulder, holding him back as he pantingly gave chase. The cloudy sky stretched out endlessly overhead, a dull metal grey and as the weedy field spread indefinitely before them, he had a wild thought that perhaps she would make it to Canada by foot.

Terrible, ripping cramps slashed through Gwen's abdomen, tearing through her insides like a hot knife, and she hunched down, still running, propelled by some instinct deep within her. Each pain crumpled her up while she went, doubling her over until she was stumbling over the grass like a hunchback.

In the distance, Scully saw Gwen contort and forgot her fear. These were the recognizable symptoms of contractions and she felt nervously comforted that something had gone normally. She had no idea how advanced Gwen was with them, but she would not get far.

As if on cue, Gwen collapsed in a cumbersome somersaulting heap, an impossibly loud scream of pain and frustration spiralling from her throat.

To Mulder it looked like she had disappeared into the high grass but in a moment or two he came upon her.

She was clenched in a fetal position, covered with sweat, soaking wet and sobbing uncontrollably. Small branches had tangled themselves in her hair and leaves and grass stuck to her damp legs like green tattoos. She had voided her bladder, the sting of urine smell barely noticeable beneath the overwhelming smell of sweet flowers. Mulder dropped down next to her and tried to touch her shuddering arm.

"Gwen-" he began.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed at him, her voice jagged and raw. Her spittle flew. "I'm going to die!"

A minute later Scully caught up to them and her brow furrowed as she knelt next to Mulder. Gwen did not look good to her and what little medical supplies she had brought were a mile away in the car.

Mulder looked up at Scully worriedly, hoping for an expert diagnosis. Gwen thrashed violently beside him, kicking and tearing at the grass around her, her hair plastered against her contorted face and Scully tightened her lips.

"I don't know, Mulder....it seems to be extremely accelerated," she murmured in answer to the look he gave her. "Gwen!" Scully shouted. "You're in labour - try to work with it. Try to breathe."

Gwen grimaced. "I can't. I can't do this. I'm dying." A bit of blood bubbled over her lips as she spoke and she clenched her body tightly again, fighting against the inevitable. Scully shook her head at Mulder.

Mudler felt a wave of dizzy nausea wash over him. "It's tearing her up from the inside," he muttered softly to Scully.

"Go around behind her, Fox - support her." Scully refused to acknowledge what he had said. Mulder nodded obediently and sat behind Gwen and bent his knees wide, letting her rest against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and tried to still her violent jerking.

Scully took a deep breath and realized that she was shaking. She had assisted births before, but never like this. Something was terribly wrong.

Gwen was in tortuous pain unlike anything Scully had ever seen. She was terrified that the baby might not be positioned correctly, something that would certainly kill Gwen if it happened. She was so far from any equipment, and hospitals.

"You're going to be okay, Gwen," Mulder said quietly and found his mouth full of strands of her damp hair. Scully knelt in front of Gwen and folded back her skirt, exposing legs damp with translucent fluid.

"Don't clench, Gwen," Scully said automatically, and hunched down to see better. In a second she straightened up, a twisted expression of amazement on her face. "She's dilated....and I think...I think I can see its head."

Gwen seemed to hear through the blinding pain. "Oh my God, help me..." she moaned as she bucked and resisted. "I can't fight it." Tears of agony trickled freely down her face and ran into her hair. Blood smeared her teeth as she twisted Mulder's shirt sleeve into an unbearably tight, small, knot, cutting off the circulation in his arm. She began to scream deafeningly, her features contorted, over and over with no room for breath.

Scully noticed with dismay that Gwen's reddened face had gone purplish and she reached down between her legs and felt the soft bulbous dome of the baby's head emerging in what seemed like gallons of soapily fragrant fluid.

"Try to breathe, Gwen....try to breathe," she cried anxiously. Gwen's face had started to go blue. Blood and mucus trickled down from her nose and mixed with the tears on her face.

Mulder had gone extremely pale himself, a ghostly expression of panic on his face and Scully knew he was beside himself with horror. He shook his head at her incredulously. "She's dying Scully - she's dying..." he moaned. "DO something!"

Scully made a helpless gesture at him and bent down again to see how the baby was doing. The baby's head seemed to be pushing its own way through Gwen's body without any help from Gwen. The baby was swimming its way out of her body.

Gwen's screams turned to yelping gasps of air, and then Mulder saw something give way in her face, releasing her. She stopped kicking and punching, fell back against him limply, her grip on him falling carelessly loose, her hands falling open. Her head rolled back limply, her mouth wide, soundless and blood-smeared. Mulder became afraid, truly afraid, that she had died.

Just at the moment when Gwen's pain became the most unbearable, it had ceased, simply stopping, plunging her into a cool blackness that was not dark. She lay there for what felt like hours to her, recuperating, trying to regain her breath. She had no sense of the two people with her anymore and she let the memory of them slip softly away. Like she was in a dream she fought to open what felt like already open eyes, and she suddenly saw the grey sky above her, and knew every cloud.

The sky melted and ran, the mottled dark clouds trickling away in a slow explosion of light, bright sparks spiralling outward in pinwheels of shimmering, watery white flame. Lying there alone, Gwen felt no fear and the light illuminated her. She inhaled a deep timeless calm that flooded to every inch of her exhausted shell of a body, warming her, wrapping her up protectively, making her light as air, lifting her from the ground.

Up in the blinding center of light she saw neon-bright figures reaching to her, beckoning and gesturing with oddly long, caring arms. They had no form and spoke no language and Gwen wondered numbly if these were the Buddhist Bodhisattvas or the Christian saints calling for her, commanding her to leave her old, tired life behind.

As her body became weightless and bathed in its own clean light, Gwen understood finally how all pure colours mixed and became gleaming perfect white in the end and sensed that perhaps something similar was transforming her. And then as she neared them, the thought that these were the aliens coming for her, as Mulder had warned, flitted seamlessly through her mind. But Gwen sensed nothing but a soft calm and a cooling peace from the pain, and she realized that the message was not to be afraid and to feel nothing.

Gwen nodded slowly and even though her eyes were open, she opened them again.

"Okay." Gwen said calmly and Mulder and Scully both looked up. Scully was kneeling in front of her bent knees, her arms covered with thick luminescent fluid streaked with blood.

"Gwen - are you all right? How are you?" she asked incredulously.

"Okay..." Gwen repeated. What she had just gone through had crowded the earlier memories of pain out of her mind. Mulder shook his head behind her, still holding her braced against him.

"What happened to you?"

Gwen shrugged. "Was I gone long?"

"Gone? You didn't go anywhere-" Scully tore her eyes from Gwen's face to between her legs and her mouth opened wide. "Oh my God...." she murmured in hushed amazement.

Mulder stiffened behind her. "What is it?"

Scully shook her head dumbly, words escaping her. Mulder saw tears flood her eyes. She moved her lips for a moment, speaking softly, but neither of them heard what she said.

"It's...it's a baby." Scully reached down with trembling arms and lifted the shiny-slick blood-streaked infant up a bit for them to see, the umbilical cord dangling down.

The baby wriggled weakly, its skin an oddly textured translucent blue.

Veins visibly criss-crossed its strangely wide skull, pumping purplish blood almost audibly in laboured, heaving squeezes. Its eyes were small but slanted upwards towards the temples and were retina-less and blank, the whites staring out blindly ahead and Scully stared back at it, a worried half-smile on her face.

"It's not human, Mulder," Scully conceded quietly in amazed defeat. "I've never seen anything like this." She passed the slowly writhing infant up to Gwen, who was weakly reaching forward for it.

Mulder could not take his eyes from the child. An idiot smile of awe sat on his mouth. "But it's human-looking. A hybrid."

Gwen received the baby with nervously welcoming arms, and laid it against her chest. She was suddenly exhausted beyond belief but an inner contenment warmed her. A slow smile grew on her face. "So it's you that's been causing all the trouble...." she said softly to it, and the baby somehow managed to turn her way, as if knowing the voice of its mother. "I think I'll call you Gerald."

The baby made a spluttering, wheezing sound at this and Scully caught Mulder's gaze. Frowning, she shook her head almost imperceptibly at him and when his expression questioned her, she looked away.

Scully leaned over Gwen and started to massage her belly. Mulder stared at her helplessly a moment, an aching sadness overtaking him. He felt his throat catch. They had come so far, and they had manged to keep Gwen's baby out of everybody's hands, but now it seemed the baby was going to slip through their fingers too.

The baby's tiny body writhed and hacked now, as if the air itself was distasteful to it and Gwen looked up at Scully. "Is he going to be all right?"

Scully shook her head.

Gwen held her gaze blankly for a moment and then a flicker of understanding danced through her eyes. Only for an instant did a look of unspeakable anguish cross her face. Then she turned her attention back to the baby. "Ooh Gerald...." she cooed softly, wrapping her arms protectively around it. The strange blue infant gurgled and choked softly, and Scully was struck by how quiet it was. Mulder had fallen respectfully silent, watching the baby wriggle and kick with a mixed expression warping his features. Even the cicadas dropped their buzzing to a quiet hum and there, in the deep grass, Gwen's son's breaths grew more and more laboured, fewer and further between.

A low rumbling sound wafted by them on a chance breeze and as it grew louder, Scully lifted her head. She scanned the horizon but saw nothing.

The rumbling steadily escalated into a fluttering and Mulder stumbled to his feet, spinning round, his eyes searching the sky.

"Scully-" he said nervously. "Scully-"

Almost out of nowhere, black specks appeared, hanging in the sky like a small swarm of blackflies on a steamy Summer afternoon. As they neared, the sound reached a crescendo of thudding air and the helicopters arrived, circling them, hovering and fluttering overhead, flattening the grass around them.

Gwen's baby took a watery, coughing, breath and squinted its small angled eyes shut, oblivious to the wind and thundering sound that surrounded it. Gwen waited patiently for the next breath but none came. She watched its small wide face carefully. A minute passed, and the bluish baby laid there limply in her arms, no further efforts made. Life had gone from it quickly, seamlessly, like the shifting of a shadow and round tears dribbled out of Gwen's eyes.

She looked up at Scully, who was watching as the black helicopters slowly shimmied to the ground, throwing up clouds of dust and grass, encircling them. Her hair lifted in a cloud around her face, stinging into her watery eyes. "That's it," Gwen said softly. No one heard her.

Mulder shoulders slumped in defeat and he squinted in the flying dust as the black helicopters settled to the ground around them. He recognized the strange wasp-like flying machines as military MH-53s but he doubted this was the military. The pilots left their blades twirling as the soldiers climbed out, automatic weapons in hand. They stood at attention in the gaps between the choppers, closing the circle, ringing the small group.

A middle-aged man in a green polo shirt hopped out of a thudding helicopter like it were a golf cart. He pushed past the soldiers and jogged through the tall grass towards them. It was all over now. "What do you want?" Mulder shouted angrily.

"Where is she?" he shouted at Mulder over the thunder of the swirling helicopter blades. Before Mulder could say anything the man's eyes fell to Gwen lying in the grass, cradling her baby.

"Who are you?" Mulder yelled back at him as the soldiers quietly surrounded he and Scully, taking their guns. "What do you want?"

The man ignored him and knelt down before Gwen, staring at the still grey-blue infant in her arms. His shock was visible. "Gwen."

"He's dead." Gwen's voice was toneless, more out of the need to sleep than fear. Mulder finally heard and he fell silent for a second. Scully stared up at the sky, searching for a sign or more helicopters. The thing the soldiers had come for was gone. "You can't have him." Her breath was short.

The soldiers tried to escort Mulder and Scully away, but Mulder struggled, violently. It took four men to restrain him. "Where are you taking us?" he screamed. "What are you going to do to her?"

The soldiers led Mulder and Scully away.

The man in the green polo shirt frowned and snapped a quick gesture to one of the helicopters and a stretcher was unloaded. "We'll take care of her."

Scully whipped her head around as the soldiers roughly shoved her towards a dark coloured van that had arrived out of nowhere. "Where? At one of YOUR hospitals?"

"You're not involved in this," he answered gravely in a commanding voice.

He leaned over to Gwen. "We're not who you think," he said softly. "But we're interested in your baby."

The stretcher was dragged through the grass over to where Gwen lay with her child and she was lifted and loaded, placenta, baby and all. She noted dully that the attendants all wore rubber gloves and wondered if they considered her blood alien too. Gwen lifted her head to the mottled grey sky, staring upwards, looking for a sign of the beings she had seen before.

She felt like an alien.

Gwen's stretcher was lifted up and as they bore her towards one of the helicopters, the man in the polo shirt came forward for the dead child that Gwen held cushioned against her chest. His collar flapped in the wind kicked up by the helicopters.

Mulder braced himself in the back doorway of the van, confounding the soldiers. "Don't do it!" he screamed.

The man in the green golf shirt stopped a few feet short of Gwen when fresh tears burbled over her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry Gwen...." he said quietly.

Even through her exhaustion, Gwen knew what he wanted, and he was nice enough to stand there and wait while she wept helplessly. She gave the infant a weak squeeze, kissed its cool wide forehead and held it out to him. "Don't!" Mulder shouted so violently that one of the soldiers butted his gun into his stomach, causing him to collapse in a heap, doubled over, wheezing for air.

The man came forward slowly and gently took the baby from Gwen. For a moment he stood there, cradling it in his arms like it were a real, living, human baby and in a strange way, it warmed her heart to see her child accepted. "His name is Gerald," Gwen croaked.

The man looked down at the baby's peaceful face. "Gerald Gardiner."

"Yes." Gwen felt dizzy.

"Thank you Gwen," he said solemnly.

Over in the van soldiers were prying Scully away from assisting Mulder to breathe. She looked across the grass as they loaded Gwen, frail and near exhaustion into one of the helicopters.

Gwen lay back fully and let herself be carried away with no protest. She was tired beyond caring. A woman moved busily over her, hooking up tubes. She was strangely familiar.

"Reservoir mask - Fi02 please," she said efficiently and immediately somebody handed her something that she slid over Gwen's face.

Gwen tried to sit up. "Amanda?"

The woman interrupted the flicking of a syringe to look at her.

"Amanda - you're alive!" Gwen spat straining upwards. An attendant gently but firmly pushed her shoulders back down against the narrow stretcher mattress.

Mulder's collar was loosened and he lay spread eagled on the floor of the van, his chest still heaving as the soldiers shut them inside. Scully leaned up against the darkened windows, trying to see Gwen, a feeling of hopeless rage caught in her throat. They were going to kill her.

She caught the glint of the nurse's needle in the dull light and realized that Gwen was being administered a convenient sodium thiopental and potassium chloride cocktail that would swiftly and silently solve the problem of dealing with a witness.

Scully's fingers curled into an angry fist and she smacked the window of the van with all of her might, rattling the dark bullet-proof glass, hot tears stinging her eyes. Mulder, still incapacitated, tried to sit up, but couldn't.

"What?" he wheezed.

She could barely speak. "They're killing her."

He sank back weakly onto the cold floor of the van and covered his face with his hands.

The sting of the needle was nothing to Gwen as she lay back, staring at Amanda's familiar face. Almost instantly, a warm feeling settled over her shudderingly cold body and she felt the edges of her mind begin to go soft round the edges. It would be so good to rest.

"Amanda, you're alive...." she reiterated groggily. Her head felt like it was a helium balloon drifting further and further above the scene.

She saw Amanda nod at her though the dark lace of her eyelashes and she felt comforted. She could no longer resist the temptation to let herself slide into the warm comfortable darkness.

"That's so great...." she mumbled.

Epilogue

Three or four days later the drugs wore off. The first feeling she was aware of was a burning ache in her shoulders, a tight, clenching, pain that spread dully down her back and reached down into her thighs. Gwen grumbled and shifted her barbiturate-heavy limbs slightly with a gargantuan effort, trying in vain to find a comfortable position for her sore arms and legs. She tried to roll on her side, stuffing her throbbing arms under her pillow to distance herself from the pain. Something caught her left arm, and she gave an artless tug harder, wanting desperately to sink back into a sluggish mire of sleep.

An instant later, she sensed someone at her side. Her arm was lifted up and placed next to her as if it weren't hers to control. She mumbled in protest.

"She's coming out of it-" she heard a voice hovering above her speak. There was a soft rustling sound.

A moment later she happily sank back under the dark surface again. Real sleep seemed thin and threadbare compared to the drug-induced coma-state she had been in, and she awoke with little trouble when she heard the door open.

The golf-shirt man who had taken her baby entered the darkened room. As he turned to shut the door quietly she briefly saw into the bright flourescent-lit corridor outside of her room. The setting (or was it rising?) sun left a glowing orange rectangle on the wall above the door. She struggled to sit up and it was only then that she realized that she was practically surrounded by fluffy pillows in crisp white cases. She was in a four-poster bed surrounded by flickering medical equipment.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked softly, nearing her bed.

"Sore." Gwen's voice was rusty.

"You took quite a beating." The man nodded at her. "I'll see if I can get someone to look after that." His voice was barely louder than the whirring of the medical machinery. He looked at her a long time, considering something.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He extended his hand. "I'm Dr. William Rabbitt."

Gwen shook his hand, her arms shaky and weak. She hadn't been killed, and he seemed a nice enough man. "Are you a doctor? Is this a hospital?"

The man laughed suddenly, almost embarrassed. "Oh no, I'm a physicist. This place is-" He broke off, lost for words. He frowned , realizing how long it would take to explain and opted for the easy answer. "Not a hospital," he said finally. "But for you, we needed it to be one, and so--" He gestured at the medical equipment wheeled next to the bed.

There was a soft knock at the door and he turned and answered it. A man in a shirt and tie handed him a large tray. Rabbitt nodded at him and shut the door with his foot.

"Are you at all hungry?" he asked, approaching the bed, and she saw that that there was a massive meal laid out on it for her. Suddenly she realized that she was starving and nodded. He set the tray down in front of her. "Good. Up until now, your diet was liquid...." He nodded at an IV pole standing useless and lonely in a corner. Gwen lifted her hand and sure enough, there was a bandage taped across her wrist.

"Hm," she said and picked up a fork of a distinguished flatware style. It was heavy in her hand and she wondered if it were silver plated. Rabbitt said nothing for a moment, letting her survey her meal with surprise. She glanced up at him in wonderment.

"Penne arabiata, pita bread and white wine." Her voice was flat.

"Chateau Montelena," he said, and suddenly his face was unfriendly. "It's no coincidence. We know what you eat and drink. We know where you go and what you read. We've been watching you for a while."

Gwen set her fork down, her stomach suddenly unready for her favorite meal.

The man frowned. "I want you to know that. I want it to be understood. This is not a free ride and we are prepared for any eventuality." He paused and smiled wistfully. "We want your cooperation and we will try to win it."

"Cooperation..." Gwen breathed softly, contemplating the flatware.

"Yes. And we're willing to buy you off, but know that we don't have to. We prefer to win our friends rather than buy our enemies." Rabbitt smiled amicably and pointed at her meal. "Now, please, that looks delicious...."

Gwen scooped up a forkful of the steaming pasta into her mouth thoughtfully. She held it there in her mouth for a moment, wondering if she should refuse to eat. The food was hot and savoury on her tongue, and she swallowed it down.

"Can I leave?" she asked and shoveled another forkful of penne. The edges of Rabbitt's amicable grin pulled down. "Am I under house arrest?"

He paused, and she knew the news wouldn't be good. "No, but I would be lying if I told you that you can just walk out of here. I'll give you a tour myself when you're stronger." He went over to the door and stood there, looking at her, his hand on the door handle. "Should you be thinking of leaving-" He chose his words carefully. "I would remind you that in your current condition you would not get very far."

"Assistant Director, have we made it clear to you how serious the commitee regards your act of insubordination?"

Skinner sat in a sullen slump at the board table staring straight in front of him, a copy of Francusi's memo under his left hand. He knew what was going on - he was being railroaded. They wanted him to take the rap for one of their snafus.

He tilted his head at them sarcastically, sticking out his jaw stubbornly. "No. You haven't. Explain it again."

Either the irony was missed or they were punishing him. The head of the commitee, a nameless man in a dark blue suit, leaned way forward over the table. "You were given important information that you were required to pass on to your agents and you purposely withheld it from them," the man repeated emphatically. "That shows contempt for the procedures of the Bureau as well as contempt for those working under your supervision."

He nodded at Mulder and Scully, who sat silently at the other end of the table looking worn. The black van had finally dumped them in the delivery garage of the Hoover Building where they were met by ornery-looking members of the FBI's executive office. They were immediately sent to the fifth floor for a "review" of their behavior.

And now, an hour and a half later, they were still there, and it was Skinner's turn to be upbraided. Mulder couldn't bring himself to look at him, and stared at his hands instead, tuning out the droning officious voice that listed off Skinner's shortcomings as Assistant Director. His heart was heavy and dull.

His thoughts were uneasy and restless, flitting by the striking image of Gwen's strange blue baby squirming like a fish out of water, struggling for a life that it never owned. Mostly he remembered Gwen. Scully and he had failed her miserably. He hung his head.

"And Agents Mulder and Scully, the commitee is reluctant to overlook your blatant disregard for-"

Scully suddenly shot forward in her seat, her eyes flashing. "Blatant disregard for what? A woman is dead-"

"Agent Scully this is not the plac-" the man began.

She stood up angrily, her chair shoved backwards. "You denied her medical care so you could take her for tests-" she started, her voice high and frail. Mulder could tell she was close to tears of rage. She had sat the whole meeting beside him, tight-lipped, seething in silent outrage. And now she had broken, the frustration spilling out of her, boiling over in a powerful current. He wished he could have her strength.

"I'm cautioning you Agent Scully-" the man spoke quickly.

Two agents rushed to either side of her, sharp and ready to restrain. They gently took her arms, awaiting further commands. Skinner quickly rose to his feet, indignant. "What the hell is going on here-?" he demanded angrily. Mulder followed suit. His voice was low and threat-laden. "Get your hands off of her-"

Scully tried to shake free of the agents. "How many people did you have to kill to get to her?" she spat, "Whose agenda are you following? Who ordered the tests-?"

"That's enough!" The man in the suit snapped his fingers and two more agents restrained her. En masse they dragged her towards the door. The other executives rose collectively to their feet. "Let it go, Scully." Mulder said suddenly, surprising himself. "Let it go. We can't win this one."

Rabbitt did look after Gwen. The same evening a masseur came in to give her sore, tired limbs a rub down. It was through him that she learned that a week had easily passed since she had been brought there. She had been drugged and tested most of the time, a physical therapist coming in once a day to exercise her coma-heavy appendages. He did not know what had become of her baby.

And Rabitt had been every inch the gentleman, squiring Gwen around the compound, as he called it, on his arm. Her legs were weak and shaky from disuse and he offered her the opportunity to sit at every turn. But she wanted to walk, to be outside, to feel life again.

They were up in the Appalachian mountains, surrounded on all sides by towering granite cliff faces, the grey stone treeless and bald, clawing upwards at the sky. Gwen's hospital had been an old manor house situated in a green plateau that reminded her of a golf clubhouse. It was the focal point of a grouping of rather utilitarian structures, the largest of the several small buildings that huddled together at the base of the mountain.

Rabbitt had not included these warehouse-like buildings on his tour and as they walked into the wilderness, they receded into the background, dwarfed by the grandeur of the mountain range.

"It's time to explain to you what has happened. You've been very patient. Thank you." Rabbitt paused for a moment, choosing his words. "You are very lucky to be alive," he began, squinting off into the distance philosphically. "We got to you in the very nick of time."

Gwen looked at him blankly, saying nothing. He took her arm and they walked away from the compound.

"We heard about what had happened almost immediately and took steps to contact you. I'm afraid some of our attempts were clumsy and must have frightened you - I apologize, it was difficult to be subtle under such time constraints as applied in this case. But rest assured, we are not the people that Agent Mulder and Scully were warning you about. Our interests are different."

Gwen studied the older man's face carefully. She could tell he was being very careful what he told her. "Who were they, then?"

He sighed and turned to face her. "They, briefly, were involved with your impregnation-"

She wrinkled her forehead. "I thought they were aliens?"

"Yes and no," he frowned. "Yes and no. " He started to walk again. "You were very right to be cautious -they would have killed you had they got ahold of you. We, on the other hand, wanted you alive, and had we been earlier, we might have saved Gerald."

His words hung in the clear mountain air, and Gwen looked away, chewing her lip. Rabbitt looked embarrassed and folded his hands in front of him. "We tried to revive him, Gwen," he said softly. "But he was gone."

Gwen looked down and fought back aching tears of strange shame. "Yes."

Rabbitt waited a respectful moment before speaking. "We need you on our side. We need your help, and in turn, we will help you."

"What do you want me to do?" Gwen asked suspiciously. Rabbitt threw back his head and let out a short relieved laugh. They resumed their walking. He led her to a large oak tree and pointed at something on the ground behind it.

Advancing, Gwen saw a flat granite stone plaque, dappled sunlight dancing over its smooth grey face. It was inscribed "Gerald Gardiner - Son of Gwen -1996". A small area of fresh brown earth no larger than a square foot lay directly in front of it. Gwen stared at it uncomprehendingly. "We understood that cremation was in line with your beliefs," he said quietly, hanging back from the shaded stone. "And we felt it was proper to give him a resting place."

"Why?" Gwen asked, suddenly angered. "Why did you do that? Who told you you could do that?"

The man standing before her frowned and clasped his hands. "He was dead."

She turned from him and stared at the small grave. The leaves of the oak tree whispered in the breeze, and the shadows danced across the glassy smooth tombstone like water. She stared at the polished granite until the words chisled themselves into her memory.

"He's not here. This is phony. You've got him dissected into a thousand pieces. You've smeared him onto glass slides. For YOU. For YOUR tests...." Gwen's voice was flat and numb.

Rabbitt nodded solemnly. "We took what we needed. We did our tests. But we're finished with him now - he IS there. I promise you."

Gwen shut her eyes. The words on the tombstone embedded themselves in negative on her eyelids. "Okay," she breathed, and let herself accept it. He moved to her side. "It's you that we want to test. The pregnancy has made some unprecedented changes in your physiology-"

"The leukemia-" Gwen remembered.

Rabbitt nodded. "Yes. And we are interested in trying to cure you. In case it happens again to someone else." He held her gaze. "Because it will. They'll keep trying until they get it right, no matter how many people they have to abduct. And they will come back for you...."

"Fox warned me...." Gwen trailed off, staring at the gravestone.

"Fox Mulder is right," Rabbitt agreed, his face solemn. "And we have a vested interest in making sure that doesn't happen. We need you alive. We need anything you can tell us about what happened. We need you for tests. You are our only clue into what they're doing." He stepped away from the shade of the tree and out into the bright sunlight. Squinting in the sunshine, he held an arm out, inviting her to join him. "Let me explain what will become of you.

She gazed at the small flat rock a moment longer and then went to him. She wobbled slightly and he offered his arm. They walked back towards the buildings.

"In exchange for you co-operation, we will protect you. You will return to your life, your home, your work - all of it, as you had before, provided we can be assured of the utmost secrecy. You cannot, under any circumstance, visit any hospital or medical institution - your medical information will be a private matter between you and us, to assure the secrecy of our tests." He looked over at her to see if she had understood. She nodded slightly.

"However, we will be at your disposal any time of day or night for any problem, no matter how small. If you have a bad headache, we want to know about it. We will have doctors here whose specialty will be you." He smiled warmly for a moment. "I understand that you are acquainted with Amanda Wallis."

The muddy memory of being loaded onto the helicopter flooded back to Gwen and she nodded. "I thought she had been murdered."

Rabbitt nodded sagely. "Well, for all intents and purposes, she has. We made a similar offer to her. She will be maintaining the hematology database for your health research."

Gwen nodded dumbly.

"We require absolute secrecy. There is no other option." He turned and looked back at the oak tree with her. "You are welcome to come and visit your son's grave any time you wish, however-" he dropped his voice low "if we are exposed, I promise you, all evidence that we have been here can be erased. And that includes Gerald's grave. Like we were never here." He let the threat sit heavily in the air for a moment. "As we speak, your home is being outfitted with state of the art digital monitoring devices-"

At this Gwen came to a halt. "You're bugging my house?"

Rabbitt raised his eyebrows at her. "Absolutely. For your own safety. We need to keep track of you. If anyone should...try anything, we'll come for you." When Gwen's dismayed expression did not change, he continued. "You must understand that you are a marked woman - your whole life has changed. We need to know where you are every minute."

He tipped his head towards the stone house and they resumed walking. "I assure you we aren't interested in your personal affairs and every effort will be made not to be instrusive, but it must be done." He stared into the sky for a moment, considering something. "We'd been monitoring you since you were impregnated, but our technique was spotty. A lot fell through our fingers."

Turning to her, he took both of her arms. "It's a pre-emptive measure -they'll be watching too. You'll learn to live with it."

"All right." Gwen nodded slowly. He released her and once more they turned toward their destination.

Rabbitt smiled. "Think of it as your way to contact us. If you ever need us, we'll be listening."

As they approached the fieldstone building, a man in a suit held the impressive white door open for them. Rabbit continued "And they've taken the liberty of straightening things up while they're there. Your home was left in quite a shambles by our unsubtle friends."

"Thank you," Gwen said dully, her mind reeling.

Rabbitt stood paused on the stone steps to the manor. "Just wanting to start off on the right foot. We do, however require that you spend a little more time here, until you're completely recovered."

She nodded and they went inside and stood in the large Georgian entrance hall, as the doorman slowly eased the paneled wooden door shut behind them. An ornate chandelier dangled down from a sculpted plaster ceiling and a wide staircase curled around the wall leading to the second floor, its fine wooden rail spiralling into a tight curve at the bottom of the steps. The marble floor had a circular inlay of an eagle with olive branches wound in its talons embedded in it and Rabbitt stood on it, talking to her.

"We have planned a few grief counselling sessions for you as well, if you're not adverse to the idea."

Gwen shook her head, staring at the unlit white candles in brass wall sconces.

Dr. Rabbitt beamed at her. "Fantastic. You are just as co-operative as we hoped you'd be. You only have to keep yourself from being killed. That should come naturally." He consulted a small spiral-bound notepad that he withdrew from his blazer's inner pocket, humming to himself quietly. He flipped the book closed after a second.

"We would like one more thing from you..." he announced. "We would like you to take a trip somewhere for a month or so. Outside the U.S."

"Where?" Gwen asked.

Rabbitt shrugged. "Anywhere you'd like, as long as we approve it. We'll take care of the expenses, the arrangements. Part of it is a how of our good intent, and the other part is to avoid any questions your sudden disappearance may have caused. We'll take care of the details, calling the university, contacting the FBI. We'll say you went on stress leave. A sabbatical."

Gwen mounted the staircase that led to her room, overcome with images of far-off lands. A sabbatical was just what she needed to fade the last week's events from her memory. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, to save a small place in her heart for her lost child.

Rabbitt stood on the inlaid marble eagle and looked up at her as she slowly climbed the curved staircase. "We are not necessarily the good guys, Gwen," he called after her. "It's in our best interests to have your best interests at heart, that's all."

She looked down at his face and realized he was warning her. "We are not the good guys, but the bad guys are much worse."

Late Summer in Washington had brought a seeping humidity to Mulder and Scully's basement office. The papers and photos pinned to the walls curled upwards as if preparing for flight and a small, overheated oscillating fan that Scully had brought from home sat on the filing cabinet. It barely moved the heavy air as it blew, rustling a few rumpled papers on their desks. Scully's bangs hung limply in her eyes, the rest of her lifeless hair pulled back into a short knob of a ponytail. She sat at her desk, her silk blouse sticking to her damp back. It was a quiet time at the Bureau, a good half of the staff on last-minute Summer vacations, and the Hoover building was a silent, almost sleepy place, filled with dead, unmoving air.

She stared across the room at a newspaper clipping Mulder had hung up. It was an yellowing article from the front page of the Washington Post entitled "Standoff Resolved - Hostage Taker killed by FBI Sharpshooter". Beneath the headline was a bad halftone photo of her and Mulder and Gwen, talking to the Special Agent in Charge.

Mulder had always liked the photograph because it had been taken moments before Gwen had shoved the Special Agent in Charge in the chest, an event which he cherished deeply. Scully had never been fond of the shot because it brought back to many unpleasant memories. That and that the photo made her look like a flood refugee, the ambulance's wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a haunted look on her face. And so Mulder had shelved the photo somewhere.

But after they had both served their week's suspension, and they had returned to work, broken and demoralized, Mulder had dug up the clipping, marched across the room and tacked it to the center of the corkboard, covering a a tabloid photo of a space craft. He had stood there for at least ten minutes, staring at it, saying nothing.

Finally he had turned to Scully and his face was defiant. "Let them tell us to take this down. Let them, Scully."

And Scully knew what he was talking about. The FBI had taken them aside and cleverly reprimanded them, never alluding to what had happened directly, as if it would ruin their credibilty to admit that a woman pregnant with an alien baby had managed to outrun them, let alone mention that the woman that they had killed had been bankrolled by them. They had steamrollered over the whole story and nothing was said about Gwen's disappearance. Nobody noticed. It was as if she had never existed.

And so they had mourned silently. Mulder washed with stinging regret, reliving every disagreement he had ever had with Gwen, and Scully mourned not only Gwen, but Amanda, whom she should have taken the time to know better. Lost in their private grief, they were very little help to each other, and Mulder and Scully moved heavy shadows for several days after their suspension, unable to do anything but remember and rethink. Slowly, the trivialities of work eased out their memories and work resumed at a dull pace in the closeness of the cramped office.

Scully's ponderings were interrupted as Mulder came through the door with a package. He brought it over to her desk and sat it in front of her. "Look at this."

It was addressed to them both and the bashed-up box was dotted with exotic stamps. "We never get mail," Scully noted as Mulder pulled out a pair of scissors and attacked the box. The weak cardboard gave way nearly immediately.

"Maybe the Unabomber finally got my address..." Mulder remarked, pulling a folded postcard off of the top of the package. Unfolded, the postcard revealed a yellowed photograph of the Taj Mahal that had to have been taken in the early sixties. He flipped it over and then looked up at Scully. For a moment he said nothing. "It's from Gwen."

Scully stared at him. "What?"

"She's alive...." He handed her the postcard. Reaching into the package, he drew out a set of jingling golden bangles and a small Tibetan scroll depicting the Wheel Of Life.

"'Dear Fox and Dana'-" Scully read breathlessly. "'Just to let you know I am doing well. Having a wonderful time in New Delhi. Terribly hot, many elephants, fabulous food. Planning to come back at the end of the month. Hope you enjoy these things I picked out. Thinking of you, Gwen.'-"

Scully lifted her eyes from the postcard and they were glistening slightly.

Mulder reached out and slid the bangles onto her wrist. They jangled and glittered on Scully's arm. He squeezed her hand.

"What is she doing in India?" she said after a moment.

"I don't know."

FIN

"I never did give anybody hell. I just told the truth and they thought it was hell."
-Harry S Truman