Title: Cry Wolfe
Author: Alasdair T. McLean
Written: November 1996
Disclaimer: Written by using characters created by C. Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. Elements of Steve Wolfe's background are from White Wolf's Gypsies sourcebook. No copyright infringement or offence is intended. All other characters and ideas created by myself and copyrighted 1995.
Warnings: None. This is a straight X-File.

Summary: Mulder and Scully are ordered to invesitigate the case of a missing boy in Portland, Orgeon, but not all is as it seems.

Author's notes: This is set just after 'Conversations', and before the second season finale.

'The night I left the city I dreamt of a wolf':- 'Cry Wolf' by A-ha.

Part I

10:24pm. Portland, Oregon.

Alan Davis stood alone in his bedroom. A cold wind was blowing through the open window. He was naked, and shivering, but not because of the cold. At fifteen, he was the youngest son of the Director of the InterChem Corporation's West Coast Operations Centre. He clutched at his head as a sudden spasm of pain ran through his body, causing him to cry out in agony.

"NOOO! Please, God, make it stop!" he screamed, "Make it stop!"

The pain only got worse, a burning sensation that seemed to cover his whole body. He looked down, and in the white light from the moon that hung in the cloudless sky, he saw the skin on his arms, all over his body begin to ripple unnaturally as heavy brown fur began to emerge from his skin.

"What's happening to me?" he shouted, terrified beyond belief at what was happening to him.

There was a knock on the door behind him and he heard his mother's voice, worried, "Are you alright, Alan?"

"Noo," he moaned softly. The pain was lessening, and now his body was covered in thick brown fur, his hands were clawed! He raised his hands to his face and ....., "No, this can't be happening."

"Alan?" his mother's voice again, more concerned this time. The door behind him began to open slowly. The room, she saw, was empty, deserted.

"Alan?" Going to the open window she looked down and saw a wolf bolt from their back yard into the forest behind the house.

Two days later. 8:58am. F.B.I. Headquarters. Washington, D.C.

"What is it this time, Mulder?" Dana Scully looked up into Mulder's deep hazel eyes, trying not to lose herself in them, it would be so easy...... Snapping herself back to reality she frowned at him, her expression wary, "The second I passed the front desk I'm told that Skinner wants us in his office as soon as possible, if not earlier. We're in the middle of a case. So, who have you managed to alienate this time?"

"Interesting choice of words, Scully," he teased, smiling easily at her, "Actually, I don't know. I mean, I can't actually remember doing anything that bad," seeing her left eyebrow slowly begin to rise he added, "recently."

The second before the buzzer sounded, Muriel, Skinner's secretary informed the two agents, "Assistant Director Skinner will see you now."

She must be psychic, Mulder thought as he walked into Skinner's office, Scully following right behind him.

The Assistant Director did not waste any time on niceties, "Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, I have something here which might interest you." He indicated a brown manila envelope that lay on his desk before he continued, "Two nights ago a 15 year old named Alan Davis vanished from his parents house in Portland, Oregon, without a trace."

Mulder leaned forward in his seat, his mind racing with the possibilities: a possible abduction, that could bring him a little closer to finding Samantha.

"A runaway?" Scully asked, she had noticed the change in Mulder, and knew what to expect when they left the A.D.'s office.

Skinner nodded, "That's more than likely," he said, a little tersely, Scully thought.

"I didn't think that a runaway was a Federal matter?"

"It wouldn't be if the father of the boy, Richard Davis wasn't a friend of the Senator for Oregon," that explained Skinner's bad humour. He didn't like it when the Bureau was used like that by those who held high public office, but there were other considerations in this case. Considerations that Mulder picked up on very quickly.

"Why us, sir?" he asked, slightly puzzled, "Couldn't someone from the Portland Field Office handle it just as well?"

"I doubt that very much, Agent Mulder," Skinner's voice was low when he continued, "You were requested by name apparently, and then this file arrived twenty minutes ago. It was hand delivered by a British diplomatic courier. Along with a message for you both from Section 10: 'Davis may be involved in Storms. Be careful'."

"What does Mr Davis do, exactly?" Mulder asked slowly, he had a feeling that he knew what the answer was going to be.

Skinner didn't even pause, "He's in charge of InterChem's operations on the West Coast." He glanced at his watch, "Your flight to Oregon leaves in forty minutes."


Steve Wolfe was enjoying himself. He was sitting at the controls of a Cessna Citation and flying an executive up from San Francisco to spend a week or so pouring over the records of the Portland office. Not that Wolfe cared, he was being paid to simply fly the man wherever he wanted. He was being paid to fly. And since Mr Masterson was going to be stuck in an office all day pouring over the accounts that meant that Wolfe would more or less have the week all to himself.

His dark eyes scanned continuously, taking in the instruments in front of him, and the view from the cockpit, as he kept up a near constant lookout.

He had learned to fly in Scotland before he had even left school, getting his private pilot's license through the Air Cadets just after his sixteenth birthday. When he went to University in Glasgow both him and his best friend Will McCormack joined the local University Air Squadron. Wolfe managed to log enough hours to get his commercial licence while McCormack gained his private one. Flying was as much a part of him as the Romany blood that flowed through his veins. A part of his heritage that was obvious only if you knew what to look for.

Most people simply took the dark hair, deep brown eyes, and tanned skin as being of Mediterranean origin. They were wrong. His gypsy blood came from his gran, Mira Wolfe, who was a full-blooded Rom. It was an interesting story how she came to marry and stay with a Scottish farmer. Or rather how he met her. There was more to his grand-father than met the eye. Daniel Wolfe had spent ten wonderful years wandering over the world before he had finally returned home to take up the farm. When he finally returned to Crieff his wife, Mira, came with him. They had raised Steve since both of his parents had been killed in a motor accident when he was only three.

Banking the 'plane slightly to put them back on course for Portland's municipal airport, Wolfe's eyes were caught by a glint of silver in a clearing in the forest below. His gran had been careful to make sure that he knew his heritage and birthright as one of the Rom. He noticed the silvered roofs of the trailers, and the remains of the fires below. If the occupants of those trailers were who he thought they were, something told him that his stay in Portland was going to be a lot more interesting than he had expected.

Only five miles outside town, he thought .....

5:31pm. The Davis house.

Scully was downstairs talking to Mrs Davis, trying to pin down any reason Alan might have had for running away from home: recent arguments with parents, problems at school, problems with friends, etcetera. Mrs Davis had seemed a little overwhelmed by the appearance of the two agents on her doorstep. Oh, she'd been expecting them alright, but it seemed that her way of dealing with her son's disappearance was to ignore it and busy herself with other things, and simply not think about it.

Mulder had never seen a tidier house.

So, to make things easier Mulder asked if he could have a look around Alan's room, to see if there was anything there that might indicate where he was. Unfortunately there was nothing, the room was amazingly tidy - probably due to his mother. Nothing that immediately jumped out at him. So, he did what he always did when he hit a block. He forced himself to relax and just let his eyes roam over the room, letting what he saw there give him a picture of what Alan had been like.

His eyes were drawn to a poster on one wall. Smart kid, he thought, likes the Knicks.

On the desk next to the window was a PC, an expensive one. Mulder let his eyes follow the dancing patterns the screen-saver generated. Why did they have to make them so hypnotic? he thought, having to fight the urge to gaze at the monitor. Walking over to the desk he tapped a key, bringing up a request for a password - a very sensible precaution if you lived with two older brothers and had a baby sister. He made a mental note to ask Mrs Davis if her son kept a diary on his computer. If he did, and had written anything revealing down in it that would make life considerably easier.

From the desk he could look out of the open window, onto the large garden that lay behind the house, and beyond that was the forest. Nice view, he murmured while his mind was unconsciously going over everything he had seen in the room, looking for anything that would be useful. Going to the window he leant out, breathing in the fresh air. There had been a cable from the telephone socket to the computer. Logically that meant it had an internal modem. And since it was still running .. After all there were other ways of getting at protected files.

He stood like that, leaning out of the open window, until he heard the door open and then Scully's even tread. Turning to face her he let his fingers brush along the vertical surface of the window ledge. He looked down and frowned.

"What?" Scully knew that look. His face was blank, except for a slight wrinkling of the brow.

"Nothing. It's nothing," he looked at her, visibly switching his attention from his thoughts to her, "What did Mrs Davis tell you?"

"Not much," Dana shrugged her shoulders, a wry expression on her face, "no family problems, he's doing well at school - straight A's, and he's popular. He apparently gets on well with his brothers and sister. She has no idea why he'd run away like this." She looked at Mulder significantly, "She thinks it may be something to do with her husband's work. Apparently Mr Davis has been acting a little . paranoid lately."

"Hey, just because you're paranoid it doesn't mean they're not out to get you," Mulder couldn't resist making the obvious wisecrack.

"In you're case, Mulder, they probably are," Scully said.

"So, what makes her think it's anything to do with InterChem?" Mulder asked, his voice hardening when he continued, "I mean we already know how competitive they are. And just how extensive their employee care package is." About a year ago they blew up Mulder's apartment in an attempt to kill them both by way of payback for interfering in one of their operations. True it wasn't InterChem itself, but rather a shadowy organisation known as the Storm Project which was believed to be an offshoot of the Corporation. They never did find out why exactly. Although they thought it might have had something to do with an attempt a few months earlier on the life of British M.P. Sir Malcom Marsden.

Despite both Section 10, and the Lone Gunmen's best efforts the amount of hard data they had on the existence of the project was disturbingly small. A few photographs of a modified Beechcraft Starship, with engine pods that appeared to, according to Section 10's best engineers 'utilise an unknown and possibly esoteric propulsive technology'. Translation: technology pirated from crashed U.F.O.s. And a few printouts of computer files hacked from InterChem's system by the Gunmen, and one of Will McCormack's old friends. All agreed that the level of protection the Storm project had on their files was unlike anything else they had encountered. Printouts were the only records of the intrusions since as soon as they were detected, all the hardware attached to the invading system was somehow, for want of a better term, fried. No one could figure out how they were doing it.

So far InterChem had managed to maintain what was so ironically known as 'full denial' in intelligence circles. What was even more frightening was that the Storm Project couldn't function like that unless it had the support of certain people in various governments around the world. But that only left Mulder and those others who knew of the Project with the uncomfortable question of who was pulling whose strings. Mulder, Scully, Will McCormack and all the others who had run-ins with the Storm Project could only be certain of one thing: that they wouldn't like the answer.

"Just some things he's said," Scully looked unhappy with their lack of information, "she wouldn't give any set examples, and I didn't press her on the subject. Besides," she added with an amused glance at her partner, "we're getting side-tracked. We're supposed to be looking for Alan , not investigating InterChem. Remember?"

"Maybe the two things are linked somehow," Mulder suggested as he followed Scully out of the room. As he closed the door behind him he thought, If they are Alan Davis is in real trouble. Mentally looking at various possibilities, and deciding against mentioning them to Scully until they were in their car. "Portland P.D. drew nothing on initial inquiries, and something tells me we aren't going to get anything more than they did."

Scully nodded in agreement as they walked into the living room where Mrs Davis was waiting for them. As soon as the door opened she looked up at them, her eyes begging them to tell her that they knew where her son was, that they had found him already. Intellectually she knew it was an impossibility, but she still needed all the reassurance she could get.

"Mrs Davis, could you tell us if Alan kept a diary? Possibly on his computer?" Mulder asked gently, going straight for the point, "If we could see it it might help us find him more quickly." His choice of words was deliberate. Making it sound as if it was inevitable that her son would be found safe and well in a couple of days.

"I think so, Agent Mulder," she brightened a little, unconsciously responding to the grain of hope that Mulder had given her, "Yes, he did." Her face fell slightly when she remembered something, "He's set up his system so that no one else can use it though. Everything's password protected. We tried to get at it when he disappeared, but..."

"That's alright, it won't be a problem," Mulder reassured her.

Part II. The Truth Isn't the Only Thing Out There

Portland, Oregon.

It was raining. A light, but almost continuous downpour that soaked anyone who was outside in seconds. Steve Wolfe tugged at the collar of his overcoat as he stepped out from the doorway of the rented store that some of the Rom had turned into a small 'fortune telling' set-up. It was amazing how foolish some people could be. How easily they fell for the bujo, or the scams, that the gypsies pulled on them. Anyone who actually believed that their money was 'tainted' as a gypsy fortune teller would often tell them, deserved to lose their money - most of the time, sometimes they were people who were desperate for something to believe. And while Steve had no sympathy with the former, he felt sorry for those who genuinely needed to believe for whatever the reason.

He had been in luck.

There was a danger that the gypsies might mistake him for gaje, and as such try to swindle him out of everything he owned. Which, apart from his car wasn't terribly much. But, while some of the younger ones had smiled at him with a look he recognised as one a predator uses when watching prey, an old man had looked at him with eyes that seemed to be completely black and look right into his very soul.

Wolfe had not looked away, even though the man's penetrating gaze unnerved him in more ways than one. Actually it reminded him of his grandmother.

"And how is Mira?" the old man had asked after what seemed an eternity, then he laughed and said, "I am Jan."

Steve didn't outwardly show his surprise, other than a slightly curious, ">You knew my gran?<" His switch to the Romany language that his gran had taught him at an early age was deliberate.

">In a time and place very far from here. And Daniel also,<" the old gypsy nodded, his eyes turning inward as he remembered, ">For a giorgio he was remarkably like one of us.<" Now when Jan looked at Steve there was humour in his eyes, ">If she had to fall for a giorgio at least her new name was fitting for one of the Lupine family: Wolfe.<"

Steve grinned at the memory, from that moment it was obvious that he had been accepted as one of them. It also solved the problem of where he was going to stay. He had been invited, as one of the family, to stay with them at their encampment just outside of town. Better than any hotel, in Steve's book.

Walking down the street in the rain he looked around, looking for a likely spot to have a drink and a little relaxation. He smiled slightly when he spotted the two F.B.I. agents he had been warned were in town. A tall, slender man with dark hair and a smaller woman with fiery auburn hair. As he watched them from across the street they went into a diner.

"Mulder," Scully sighed when she sat down in the booth, not bothering to glance at the menu, "Skinner isn't going to like this. I mean getting the Gunmen to hack into Alan Davis's computer and download his diary and then break into it is definitely not Bureau procedure. I mean you didn't even ask his mother's permission."


Mulder nodded at the waitress who strolled over to them with a large coffee pot, but before he could answer Scully's question his thought processes where shattered by a familiar voice shouting his first name.



"Grrrrr!" Scully looked first at Steve then at her partner and then growled softly, sexily, low in her throat. A sound that caused Mulder, who had twisted around in his seat to nod a greeting to the pilot, to look at her - the expression on his face changing from shock to amusement so swiftly that only someone who knew him as well as her would have noticed the shift. She looked at him over the mug of coffee that she was holding, such a look of innocent mischief in her eyes that he completely forgot being annoyed over Steve's use of his first name.

Wolfe strolled over to them, tossing the long black overcoat he was wearing onto the coatstand by the door. "So," he said, only slightly curious, "what brings the F.B.I.'s weirdest to sunny Portland? An X- File?"

Mulder shrugged, "We don't know yet. Maybe."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the disappearance of Alan Davis, would it?" he almost laughed at the astonished expression the two partners were wearing. By way of explanation he added, "I have some family staying in Portland at the moment. They told me all about Alan's little vanishing act."

It didn't take Mulder long to figure out who Wolfe meant when he said 'family'. "They didn't tell you anything else, did they?"

Steve smiled as he sipped the coffee that the waitress brought over for him, "Only that two F.B.I. agents were in the area to look into the matter. And that they wouldn't like what they found if they ever got close to the truth." He paused, "Now I'm not so sure about that."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked, leaning forward in her seat, "Do you ..."

She was interrupted by the ringing of Mulder's cel-phone. He held it up to his ear, shrugging apologetically at her as he answered "Mulder. ... Hi, Byers. .... Thanks, that's another one I owe you for. ... What?!? You're kidding. ... Thanks." Mulder replaced the 'phone in his jacket pocket. He looked over at Scully, a puzzled frown on his face. "That was the Gunmen. They're going to e-mail me Alan's diary. And a message that was addressed to me personally."

"What?" Scully wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"There was a file named Mulder.txt in the same directory as his diary. Apparently it's a message for me."

"Spooky," Steve observed, earning another sharp glance from Mulder.

Mulder stood, motioning for the waitress to bring over the bill, "Let's get back to the hotel, Scully. I want to see what's in that file."

"You aren't the only one," she murmured, glancing apologetically over at Wolfe who laughed silently as he stood as well.

"I don't suppose I could tag along?" he asked, something in his tone making Mulder and Scully glance at each other, it didn't sound like a casual request. He knew more than he was telling them.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Mulder said after a moment's thought, "Do you have transport?"

"You could say that," Wolfe grinned at them, "but you have no idea of the cost of a parking ticket if you illegally park a light aircraft."

"Okay, here it comes," Mulder tapped the return key as he logged on to his e-mail account via Scully's PowerBook, "Two files, attached to an e-mail from the Thinker." He laughed aloud when he read the one line message from the Gunmen's best hacker, "'Next time give me something really difficult!'"

"What're those?" Wolfe pointed over Mulder's shoulder at an unusual collection of symbols at the end of the Thinker's message.

"A smiley. It means extreme sarcasm."

"Ah, right."

"Well, well. Scully, what do you make about this?" Mulder pointed to the screen, where a small text message lay.

"Mulder.txt?" she guessed.

"What was your first clue?" Mulder asked.

Agent Mulder,

Whatever happens you must not let THEM find my son.

THEY will be watching you.

R. Davis.

"Who is he talking about?" Scully wondered aloud, "The Storm Project."

"Bastards," Wolfe muttered under his breath, as he remembered what one of the Project's allies had taken from him. When he became aware that Scully was looking at him curiously he added one word of explanation, "Toronto."

She was about to ask him what had happened there, but the look on his face stopped her. Although his handsome face appeared relaxed and at ease, his dark eyes were burning with rage. And then it was gone.

"Let's go," Mulder, who had been scanning the last entry in Alan's diary, stood up suddenly, heading for the door. As he passed the bed where their coats had been carelessly discarded, he threw his own on and passed Scully and Wolfe theirs. "The Storm Project aren't the only ones who could be after Alan," he said as he opened the door, ignoring the rain that had lessened to a faint drizzle, "If he is a werewolf then it could be the Rom as well." He looked directly at Steve as he said it.

Part III. Trust No One

10:31pm. Mulder's room. The Holiday Inn, Portland, Oregon.

"The Storm Project aren't the only ones who could be after Alan," Mulder stood in the open doorway, his eyes locked with Steve Wolfe's, "If he is a werewolf then it could be the Rom as well."

"Yes, it could be," Wolfe admitted

"A werewolf?" Scully gave Mulder the look that she reserved for moments like this, when it seemed like he was about to fly off into the ozone with another one of his wild theories. Then again, considering some of the people she had met recently, maybe this one wasn't so far fetched after all, "What's given you that idea, Mulder?"

"The diary," he said slowly, "The last entry. I'll tell you about it on the way." Turning to face Steve he asked, "How much did you know about this?" The accusation was obvious.

"As much as you," Wolfe admitted, "I knew it was a possibility, that Alan could be a werewolf." He paused, "I didn't know that the agents who had been sent were you two." He paused as Mulder opened his car door and got in, "If the Storm Project are after the boy it would be better for him if they don't find him. Safer."

"Better for the Rom to find him, you mean?" It was more of a statement than a question, both Mulder and Steve knew what the answer was.

"Yes," Wolfe watched them drive off. Looking around he realised that the rain had stopped, and the skies were clearing. The parking lot was bathed in the silvery light of the full moon that hung overhead. A hunters' moon, he thought.

He hadn't liked lying to Mulder and Scully. It was more than that they were friends of Will's, but that he genuinely liked them. Dana especially. She reminded him of Erica Bennett. Both had auburn hair and both were stubbornly sceptical about anything paranormal. The only difference was that one was dead. Enslaved years earlier by a two thousand year old vampire. Under Heimat's control she had tried to kill both him and Lorna Harker. Will had acted to save their lives the only way he could. It was something that he was still dealing with.

The Rom knew what Alan was alright.

The only question that remained was: who would find him first?

Wolfe started to walk back into town.

Outside the Davis house.

"You're telling me that Alan Davis is turning into a werewolf?" Scully followed Mulder around to the back of the house, "And that the gypsies are here to kidnap him?" She shook her head slowly.

Mulder turned and looked at her. She had that stubborn look in her eyes, so all he said was, "Yes." He switched on the torch he was carrying and shone it against the back wall of the house. It didn't take him long to find the window to Alan's room.

"Next you'll be telling me that Steve is a werewolf as well."

She looked up at the sky, exasperated when Mulder said, "Well, he might be."

"It had to be a full moon tonight, didn't it?" She muttered to herself.

"Look," Mulder pointed up towards Alan's window, "on the window ledge."

"The wood is scratched," she realised, instantly figuring out where Mulder would go with that, "claw marks? You think he jumped out of the window. At the very least he would have fractured the bones in his legs when he landed, Mulder. A concrete patio isn't exactly the most forgiving surface to land on from that height."

"A werewolf could make that jump easily," Mulder said, turning around and shining his flashlight out over the lawn and towards the forest, "Shall we?" Knowing that she would follow him, he began to walk over the grass, sweeping the ground in front of him with his flashlight beam.

Scully shook her head at him, smiling despite herself, "I'm not even going to argue with that logic, Mulder."

The first indication that there wasn't something quite right was when the hairs on the back of Steve Wolfe's neck started to raise. He wasn't psychic like his gran, indeed he was as human as Mulder with absolutely no paranormal abilities. But even so, he always listened to his instincts - ninety percent of the time they were bang on target.

This time was to prove no different.

His ears popped. In an attempt to clear his ears he began to swallow rapidly. When they cleared something made him look up towards the moon. Passing over Luna was a shape that Steve recognised instantly. The silhouette of a Beechcraft Starship. The canard foreplanes swept forward as if for landing, but there was something wrong about the way it was flying - it was far too slow, barely moving in fact. He had seen a 'plane like it once before, in Toronto. "The Stormhawk," he whispered.

This confirmed his worst fears for Alan Davis. InterChem were interested in the boy!

He looked around frantically, his eyes searching for something. Alan Davis wasn't the only one who was in danger, Mulder and Scully would be as well.

There, parked underneath a tree!

It didn't take Steve long to hotwire the Harley. Within thirty seconds he was speeding through the streets that were still slick from the days rain, the tail of his dark overcoat whipping out behind him as he headed towards the forest.

"But why would the Rom be interested in kidnapping Alan Davis?" Scully asked as she walked through the forest with Mulder who appeared to be looking for something, what it was she had no idea, "unless they would hold him for ransom? I mean, we've all heard tales of gypsies stealing babies, but from what I've seen and read I'd discounted them as simply being stories told to little kids to scare them into being good."

Mulder shook his head, "For the most part that is all they are: horror stories. But," he paused, sweeping the flashlight from side to side before heading off to the right. Scully really should have known what was coming next, "I have X - Files."

Why am I not surprised? she thought as she listened to Mulder.

"The few cases where gypsy families have been tentatively linked to the disappearance of children - there's rarely any hard evidence - there is usually an indication that the child in question is a werewolf.

"It appears to be for the child's own good," Mulder smiled wryly, "Most parents in that situation don't always handle things well. There was one case where a fourteen year old girl turned into a wolf right in front of her parents. The father had a heart attack and the mother, a police officer, apparently shot the girl and then turned the gun on herself. I say apparently because the girl was never found, and the case was buried in the X - Files."

"So why do the gypsies try to help them?" Scully asked, "From what I've seen most of them tend to look down on 'gaje' like us?"

"The clue is in the name of one of the more powerful families: the Lupines," Mulder explained, "I think that they may have ties to various groups of werewolves. I'm not sure. The person to ask would really be Steve."

"Wolfe," she finished, "Uh, Mulder, where are we going?"

"Shhh," Mulder whispered, "We're being watched."

"Who by? Where?"

"Who are you?" a gravelly voice growled from right behind them.

Scully and Mulder spun 'round, Scully drawing her weapon and aiming it automatically even as she shouted, "Federal Agents!" When she realised what it was she was aiming at she gasped involuntarily. Standing before them was a humanoid wolf about five and a half feet tall. Fur covered every inch of his body, and his hands were clawed, his face halfway between a wolf's muzzle and a human face.

A face barely recognisable as Alan Davis.

"Hello, Alan," Mulder said, stepping forward slowly so as not to alarm the young werewolf, "your parents are worried about you." He had absolutely no idea what to say in this situation. His psychology training at Oxford had covered many things, but dealing with runaway were-creatures was not among them. Alan began to look around frantically. "We aren't alone," he said, fear audible in his voice.

"Stay close to us," Scully said automatically, "we'll protect you." A part of her mind wondered just how accurate that statement was.

At the same moment a blinding light illuminated the forest around them, effectively blinding them, a single gunshot rang out.

Scully cried out in shock and pain as the bullet tore through the skin of her right arm.


"I'm okay, it just grazed me. Who?"

"PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND STEP AWAY FROM THE BOY," an amplified voice came over a loud hailer, nearly deafening them, "IF YOU DO NOT THE NEXT SHOTS FIRED WILL BE FATAL."

Squinting against the light Mulder glanced at Scully, who nodded slightly. Both agents recognised that they had no real choice in the matter. Moving slowly and deliberately Mulder placed his gun on the ground before moving to stand by Scully.

"Who are you?" he shouted.

Not knowing what was happening, and scared out of his wits Alan bolted. He didn't even get a foot before he was brought down by some sort of tranquilliser dart

From about a hundred yards behind them a familiar voice shouted, "They're Storm Project, who else?"

Steve Wolfe stepped out from behind a tree, shading his eyes with one hand he walked up to join Mulder and Scully. When he reached them he shouted towards the light, "If you leave now you might have a chance of survival!"

"YOU ARE NO THREAT TO US," the voice responded.

"True enough," Wolfe agreed, and then he tipped back his head and howled. It wasn't a frightening sound, but rather one that was disturbing in the sense of .... helplessness it conveyed. When he stopped, Mulder leaned over and whispered, "Do you do children's parties?"

Wolfe just grinned.

They could see two figures walking slowly warily towards them, obviously pointing some kind of rifle at them. What happened next occurred so swiftly that none of the humans were sure what happened.

One moment the men were walking towards them, lit from behind by the spotlight that was effectively blinding Steve, Mulder and Scully, and the next the light was out, and there were screams coming from the direction of the Storm Project's people.

12:31am. Five miles east of Portland.

Mulder stood by the vardo, the caravan, that the gypsies' healer occupied. Slightly annoyed that he had been forbidden to enter. "I'm going back in the morning," he told Wolfe.

Steve shook his head, smiling only very slightly, "You won't find anything." Wolfe looked around the clearing where the gypsies had made their encampment, "Even if you went back there just now you would find nothing."

"What about Alan Davis? What about his family?" Mulder asked, the intensity of his gaze startling Steve, although after a moment he realised why, "How will they cope with losing him?"

"Mulder, they already know," Steve spoke softly, almost as if he were afraid that he would be overheard, "It was Richard Davis who brought the Rom into this. He wanted to keep his son safe from the Storm Project."

"And he brought us into it to make everything 'official'?" Mulder was seething. He hated it when people used his work, used Scully and himself as if it was all part of a game. "And you were a part of it, Wolfe!" He grabbed the pilot by the lapels of his overcoat, throwing him up against the metal walls of the trailer, "We trusted you!"


Suddenly Mulder felt a cold pressure on the side of his neck. Someone was holding a gun to him. Reluctantly he released Steve. The gun was lowered, although the hulking gypsy who owned the weapon remained, watching Mulder closely.

"For the record," Wolfe said, his voice completely without anger, "It was InterChem who called the Bureau in. From what I've been told you were supposed to be killed."

"Ah. ... Sorry, Steve," Mulder apologised, chagrined.

"Hey, 'sokay," Wolfe grinned like his namesake, "There's not that many people who trust wolves as much as you." He looked pointedly at Mulder, "Fewer still who would trust a vampire. And you trust both." His expression turned sober, "I gave my word to Will that I would do anything I could to help you. He's my brother, maybe not in blood, but in every way that matters. I won't break that oath."

Mulder looked for a moment at the hand that Steve was holding out between them. Then he grasped it firmly.

"And now that everything is sorted, since the night is still young ..." Wolfe's voice trailed off as his eyes were caught and held by one of the girls who were dancing in front of the fire in the centre of the encampment to a rock tune that was belting out from someone's stereo. "I think it's time to play for my supper." Going to the trunk of one of the cars parked in the clearing he opened it and pulled out a violin case opening it and removing the fiddle and bow from inside, before he walked over to the stereo and pulling the plug. There were cries of protest from the dancers and those who had been listening to the music.

Protests that ceased when he issued the challenge. "Ladies," he bowed to them, a wide grin on his face, "Keep up . if you can."

And then with a flourish he brought the bow gently into contact with the strings, starting off at a fairly easy pace and quickly building up speed. Soon he was joined by others: a whistler, a keyboard player, and someone produced a bodhran. And the race was on.

From the edges of the clearing, Mulder watched, alone with his thoughts.

Part IV. Only You

The truth is in your heart.

Fox Mulder stood alone. Apart from the music and dancing. The firelight reflected in his eyes as he lost himself in his thoughts. He had nearly lost her again. If Wolfe hadn't arrived when he did... He had had to face life without her once before, and he had come so very close to giving in to the darkness that her abduction had left within his soul. It would have been so very easy. Only one thing had held him back from becoming what he most despised in the world: one of them. His need to be with Dana, to let her know that he was there for her. If Melissa hadn't reminded him of that .... He would have lost himself.

The others, Rom mostly, and a few others who Wolfe claimed to be 'family' but wouldn't go any further than that, noticed him brooding and left him alone. Although one gypsy girl, tall with big inviting dark eyes and wild black hair, did try to tempt him into a dance. If he was even aware of her beauty, of her presence he gave no sign. After a few tries she gave up with a muttered, "Gaje!" before returning to her companions. His eyes followed the shifting patterns of firelight, drawing him further still from the here and now.

If I lose her....., he thought, realising that this time it would be even easier to give in to the darkness inside. To just give up all hope, of finding the truth, of finding Samantha, and just take revenge on those people who had hurt him and those he loved. It would be all too easy. Sometimes it seemed like the only thing that was keeping him sane was Scully's presence. Her caring.

Her love?

"Mulder?" Scully reached out hesitantly and touched Mulder's shoulder gently, turning him round to face her. He hadn't noticed her approach, he'd been so lost in his thoughts. "Mulder!" she gasped. His eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill out. She could feel her heart twisting in empathy. The pain in his eyes was almost unbearable. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I....," Not trusting his voice, Mulder reached up one hand and indicated the dressing on her shoulder, visible where her shirt had been ripped to get at the wound.

She started to say something about him being too damn overprotective of her when she suddenly realised what he was thinking. At that moment she realised just how close she had come to death. How close they had both come to being killed.

Suddenly they were in each other's arms, each holding tightly on to the other. Almost afraid to let go. Safe in that loving embrace, they cried, letting out all the emotions they had been bottling up. All the fear, and the anger.

Eventually they became aware once more of their surroundings.

"I - Uh, I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder's eyes were bloodshot, and his face was moist from his crying, "I....."

"Shhh," Dana reached up one finger and touched it to his lips, "it's okay."

On the other side of the fire one of the gypsy girls had been persuaded to join the musicians who had gathered by one of the trailers. The tune had changed from something fast to a gently flowing melody, and when she opened her mouth to sing it was with a voice that was as smooth and clear as could be imagined.

Man's illusions fill my mind Like a sacred flower I have to find

Without being aware of it they began to move slowly in time to the music. Never once looking away from the other. Changing seasons work their charm Clouding these times of calm

Mulder gazed down into his partner's blue eyes, easily losing himself in their depths. But this time, in place of the emptiness of his thoughts he found himself enveloped in a wonderful feeling of warmth.

But only you (only you) can kiss the pain away

His eyes glistened with the remembered pain of her abduction, of her lying dying in a coma in a Washington hospital, and of the sudden knowledge that Pfaster had her.

Scully blinked away the tears that threatened to fall when she remembered seeing him age before her eyes, knowing that in a few hours she would have to watch as death claimed him. And, more recently, the memory of his funeral after his apartment had exploded, of the terrible feelings of loss when she thought that he was dead.

And only you (only you) can wash the stains away

Coming within an inch of killing in cold blood the man he knew only as 'Cancer Man'.

And only you (only you) And only you (only you) know how to make me feel this way.

At that moment it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Mulder to lean down and gently kiss Dana Scully, his partner and his best friend. He pulled back slightly, his eyes widening when he realised what he had done. He started to apologise, but then he noticed the look on Scully's face.

She was smiling, and her eyes glowed with love.

"Scully - Dana, I love you," he whispered.

Her smile widened slightly, "And I, you, Mulder."

And at that moment, in the gypsy encampment, bathed in firelight, with gently lilting music drifting over their heads through the clear night air, all the reasons, all the arguments about why this was inappropriate, fell away. Leaving one inescapable fact: they loved each other, and they were together.

Under that hunter's moon they kissed. Gently, and then more passionately as they responded to what their hearts had been telling them for well over a year.

But only you (only you) can kiss the pain away

To be continued ....

Author's Notes: Written by Alasdair T. McLean using characters created by C. Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. Elements of Steve Wolfe's background are from White Wolf's Gypsies sourcebook. No copyright infringement or offence is intended. All other characters and ideas created by myself and copyrighted 1995.

The song that inspired this (*optional*) ending for the (*optional*) 'ending' in part 4 was 'Only You' performed by Karen Matheson & Capercaillie. Gypsy music it might not be but it seemed appropriate. This is set some time after 'Conversations' in the current timeline of stories I am running and just before the second season finale. Both parts IV & V are optional additions to the Cry Wolfe story and as such *don't* occur in the universe the rest of my stories are set in.

Warnings: If you don't like the idea of a M&S romance developing *DON'T* read this!!!!!! For that matter if you're underage you *really* shouldn't read this either. Same thing goes if you don't like reading about two consenting adults doing what comes naturally and I'm not talking about falling off a bicycle!

Summary: All that has happened to Mulder and Scully in the past two years comes crashing down on them causing them to finally acknowledge the strength and nature of the feelings they each hold for the other. And, for the first time, they act on those feelings.

Part V. Kissing The Pain Away

The truth is in your heart.

There was very little light in the vardo that the gypsies had offered the two agents, as guests of the Rom, as a place to rest and recover from what they had just experienced - and perhaps so that they could watch the agents and determine if they could indeed be trusted as much as Steve Wolfe seemed to think. What light there was came from the flickering fire outside and the thin walls did nothing to mute the soft music that was drifting over the Romany camp like the soft strands of the most subtle of magics.

Man's illusions fill my mind Like a sacred flower I have to find Changing seasons work their charm Clouding these times of calm

And like true magic they did indeed weave their spell over the couple who were wrapped in each others arms as they stood alone by the fire.

But only you (only you) can kiss the pain away And only you (only you) can wash the stains away And only you (only you) And only you (only you) know how to make me feel this way.

At that moment the two people standing alone by the fire realised that the person opposite was the other half of their soul, that which they had been unknowingly searching for their entire adult lives. When they discovered that truth, that they had buried deep in their hearts and refused to acknowledge until this moment, there was really only one thing that they could do.

"Scully - *Dana*, I love you."

"And I, you, Mulder."

And they kissed, slowly, gently at first, both more than a little frightened by what had been revealed seconds earlier. But fear very quickly gave way to a passion that had been long denied. A passion that was only heightened by the strength of their partnership, the unique bond that connected them and allowed them to communicate almost wordlessly when they needed to.

As they did now.

After a while they moved a little apart, their hearts racing and their faces flushed as they stood there only their hands touching.

Dana? Mulder looked down into her clear, blue eyes. He was afraid. Afraid that if he gave in to the desire that was raging through him now after that long, exquisite kiss, and said the words aloud he'd lose her. He had, on some level, always wanted her from the first moment she'd walked into his office, and now after holding her in his arms he wanted her more than he'd ever thought possible.

Dana squeezed his hands gently and smiled ever-so-slightly. "I know," she whispered, her eyes sparking in the firelight, I want you too. Not once removing her eyes from his, she raised his right hand, held in her own. Turning his hand in her grasp she brought it to her lips, gently brushing his palm with her lips.

His eyes smouldered and widened a little at the fleeting contact.

Without another word between them they made their way slowly back to the small trailer that Wolfe had managed to persuade the other Rom to let the agents use. They were after all, his friends, and as such had the right to be made welcome by the Rom.

Mulder closed the door behind him as he turned to face her in the flickering light in the vardo. Dana was standing a few inches in front of him. Close enough to touch, but again the doubts came, "Dana, are you sure?"

She stepped forward letting her arms come up and draw him into her embrace before reaching up and kissing him once, lightly on the lips. "Yes," she said simply, "I am." Then, when his eyes snapped shut and his head dropped a little, it was her turn to doubt, "Are *you* sure?" After all, she was the Ice Queen. Who would want her?

"Yes," he smiled.

With the same instincts that had made them perfect partners they sensed the others decision and acted on it, bringing their lips together once more as their hands began to gently explore once forbidden territory.

Dana lost herself in the sensations as she felt him move against her, his hands lightly caressing her through her clothes as they drifted over her back. He pulled away slightly and let his hands rest on her shoulders, his eyes once more asking for permission, and all the while they burned with his passion and love for her.

Without removing his hands from her shoulders, Dana reached up and slowly undid her blouse a button at a time, watching his eyes all the time and delighting in the way that they seemed to flare and darken as he watched her. When the final button popped free she shrugged, letting the blouse fall to the floor.

This time it was Mulder who moved forward, taking her in his arms, bending down and touching his lips to the smooth skin of her throat to be rewarded with her soft sigh as her arms came up and pulled at his tie and began to work on his own shirt.

Dana laughed lightly as she felt him fumble slightly with the catch of her bra before managing to undo it before it joined their shirts on the floor. A laugh that caught in her throat when his fingers traced a hesitant path to her left breast, a laugh that turned into a languorous sigh when he cupped her there, letting his thumb brush imperceptibly across her hardening nipple even as he dropped a line of kisses along her shoulders and up her throat and neck, stopping to tease one earlobe before he kissed her forehead, eyes, cheeks, and then finally her lips again. His other hand reached around and slid underneath the waistband of her pants and underwear as hers pushed his own pants to the ground with his boxers joining them a second later.

He moved back from her, just enough to let him look at her.

"You're beautiful, you know," he whispered, kissing her once on the lips as he rested his hands on her hips, just above her pants' waistband. He moved lower, kissing his way ever so gently down her neck before he reached her breasts, kissing them, teasing them with his lips and tongue before grazing her nipples with his teeth.

Dana groaned, her hands moving up to tangle in his dark hair as he moved lower, his hands taking her pants and underwear with them. As he removed her shoes and socks, he dropped a lingering kiss into her auburn curls that caused her to cry out his name.

A kiss that became something more as he explored her with his lips and tongue until ...

"Fox!" her hands clutched at him as she convulsed against his face, "Please ....!"

He removed his shoes and socks before pulling her gently into his arms on the small bed in the trailer, just for a moment enjoying the wonderful sensation of being held safe in her arms, and letting his hands drift over her smooth skin, even as her hands moved over him closely followed by her lips.

"Dana!" he managed to choke out when her hands found him and began to stroke along his length, "It's - ah - been a while, and .. Oh, Dana," he sighed as she moved above him and held him gently, moving herself above him so that she was teasing them both, taking him a little of the way inside her and then moving so that he slipped out of her warmth. She held him in her hands, bringing the tip of his penis into fleeting contact with her swollen edges.

"Tease," Mulder grinned up at her, as he brought his hands up to softly caress her face, neck, shoulders, and breasts with the most gentle of touches he marvelled at the woman above him and how just when he thought he had her figured out she always seemed to reveal another facet of her personality. In this case one he had, as much as he wanted to, never expected to see.

"Uh-hm," she leaned forward and kissed him lightly before pulling back, "Do you mind?" She couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face, that of a little boy at Christmas who has just been asked if he would rather play with his new toys or have dinner with some hated relatives.

"I don't think so," he whispered, his hands caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples with feather-light touches, as she leaned over him, "why don't you continue? Just to be sure."

Dana's hands moved his length against her edges, around her, over that place where she most wanted him, "I don't think I can, Fox..." She waited for him to correct her, to ask her to call him 'Mulder', but was only rewarded by his smile. "Fox," she sighed and, at last gave in and let him slip inside her.

If Mulder thought he had been happy when he heard her say that she loved him, he soon realised that that sensation was nothing compared to the joy that penetrated his heart when he heard his name on her lips when she was looking at him with such love in her desire darkened eyes.

He arched up beneath her, his breath catching in his throat at the way he felt inside her. She was so warm, so soft around him. The way she felt to him just then, it felt right. As she rocked back and forth gently above him, around him, her blue eyes never left his as their hands moved gently over each other's bodies.

At first they moved together slowly, their love for each other evident in every move and caress, but soon lost themselves in the moment as their excitement rose to the point where it broke through their control.

Mulder did his best, he tried to slow down, but it was a losing battle. He felt himself rapidly approaching the moment when there would be nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable. He tried to slow down, to wait for her, but he was lost when she leaned forward, her arms moving around him and kissed his ear lobe before whispering, "Fox, I love you."

Man's illusions fill my mind, Like a sacred flower I have to find. Changing seasons work their charm, Clouding these times of calm.

But only you (only you) can kiss the pain away And only you (only you) can wash the stains away And only you (only you) And only you (only you) know how to make me feel this way.

Your hands can heal my blinding eyes, Your fingers melt my icy ways. Words, whispers, sighs and cries, your world becomes my time alive.

But only you (only you) can kiss the pain away And only you (only you) can wash the stains away And only you (only you) And only you (only you) know how to make me feel this way.

Snows are melting here tonight, Winds are silent, fading light. My eyes well like a rising tide, My feet will walk the final mile.

But only you (only you) can kiss the pain away And only you (only you) can wash the stains away And only you (only you) And only you (only you) know how to make me feel this way.

The end.

'Hey, marshmallows are a universal invariant.' :- Sarah Johnson.


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