"Crossing the Line" - Part One An X-Files Story - NC-17 by Jennifer Lyon Jenni10647@aol.com Jennyann@ix.netcom.com Disclaimer: The characters of the X-Files, and all rights thereto, belong to FOX, 1013 Productions, and Chris Carter. PLEASE READ: A long - but necessary Author's Note First, I want to say upfront, and for the record, (in light of recent events) - that this story is meant in NO WAY to downplay the deadly seriousness of bombs and their effects. In fact that very seriousness is vital to the story. However, if you are at all sensitive on the subject, I strongly suggest that you skip this story. You are hereby WARNED - so do not flame me if you ignore it. Second: as well as containing some violence, this story contains adult sexual activity in detail. This is important to the story - but is only a small part of it. Third: This story will be disturbing! It is meant to be. So again, you are warned in advance. And finally: The episode "One Breath" brings Mulder within the squeeze of a finger from stepping over the edge, but allows Scully, and his love for her, to bring him back. The question I address here is: what happens when it is Scully who is driven past her limits; when it is Scully who is ready to cross the line... Office of the Assistant Director FBI Headquarters "Agent Mulder! I'm saying this as a friend. Watch your back, this is just the beginning." With that warning, Assistant Director Skinner was finished. Ever so slowly, Fox Mulder bent his head in acknowledgment, his ice-cold hazel eyes never wavering. Then, turning, he followed his partner out the door. Silently, side-by-side, they stalked down the long hallways, other agents and Bureau personnel sliding out of their way, giving the two set, grim faces quick, uneasy glances. No one wanted to get in their way, one look into Mulder's glittering eyes was more than enough. Scully followed her partner by less than a step, her jaw as gritted as his, her shorter stride faster, but no less determined. They claimed the elevator, but half-way down to their basement office, Mulder pressed the button for the ground level floor, not needing to get verbal agreement from Scully that it was time to take a walk outside in the fresh air, away from eavesdroppers, human and electronic. - - - - - When they reached the sun-lit, carefully landscaped grounds of FBI headquarters, they headed up onto the grass, stopping under a large oak tree. For a moment they both stared up at the huge, long building, then met each other's eyes. "Mulder..." Scully began, but she broke off after saying his name. She was furious, frightened, frustrated. It wasn't even that this was the worst of their cases. Donnie Pfaster had terrified her, Tooms had damaged her disbelief, her own, barely- remembered abduction had destroyed her illusions. It was simply that this case was the last straw. The knowledge that Pink Pharmaceuticals had deliberately infected people with the deadly disease, and that the government had deliberately covered it up, that she and Mulder had been used and endangered... it was one insult more than she could bear. Mulder saw the emotions reflected in her bright blue eyes, a mirror image of his own frustrated rage. A part of him instinctively wanted to reach out and comfort her, another part took its own comfort in her reaction. At least, he wasn't facing this alone. Then shaking aside that thought as too selfish, he frowned, his brow crinkling. "We have nothing, Scully. Nothing." His tone was bitter, each word edged like a knife, and yet his voice was soft, nearly a whisper. "They won again." "No." Scully said, feeling a rush of determination - or simple Scully stubbornness - as her mother would call it. "This not finished. I won't let it be finished." Mulder stared down at her, a look of surprise stealing over his stone-carved features. She let the edges of her mouth curve up in a smile, though it did not come close to touching her focused blue eyes. "I didn't tell you everything, Mulder, in Skinner's office. Once I saw the report on the 'Robert Torrence,' I knew we were finished - officially." Her jaw thrust forward. "What is it Scully?" he asked, hoping against hope that she had something, anything, they could use as leverage to expose the truth. She saw the glimmer of hope in his face, and felt her stomach turn over again, nausea rising in her throat, just as it had done on the phone so few minutes ago. "There were more deaths, Mulder." At the fear that sparked in his hazel eyes, she hastened to add, "Just among the people held in quarantine. Paul's son...and the boy on the bus." "What!" Mulder exclaimed. "But that's not possible! The mother, yes, she got infected caring for the other escaped convict, but the little boy - there was no way. His father wasn't showing symptoms yet, and it's been too long, the mother died two days ago. Surely they didn't let her near him! Besides, I saw the boy on the bus walk away without being infected. You said the sores had to burst in order to spread the disease. It didn't happen, I was there!" He ran out of words, his throat constricting as he took in the set, composed look on her face - the far too composed look. "Scully," he questioned, fear now curling through his belly. "How did you find this out?" She flashed a grin that was more of a grimace. "An anonymous phone tip, which I was able to verify. The funeral for Paul's entire family is being held tomorrow, I talked with his mother-in-law. And then with the mother of the boy you 'rescued' from the bus. They won't tell her more than that he is dead. She was nearly hysterical." "They infected them - killed them. The boy on the bus was old enough - he heard too much. But for God’s sake why the little one? He was too young to know anything." Even as he posed the question he was mentally answering himself. To clean up loose ends. All dead, nice and tidy - except for two FBI agents whom no one would believe. Scully didn't bother answering the question that she knew was rhetorical. Instead, she threw back a question of her own. "What do we do now, Mulder?" Mulder frowned. He knew what he *wanted* to do, several things in fact. One was to find the nearest TV station and report the truth, no matter the consequences to his career - or what was left of it. The next was to go find someone he could consider responsible and beat them to a pulp. The third was to blow Pink Pharmaceuticals sky-high. But none of those options would win Scully over... He stared into her eyes as they met his with fierce determination... or would they? Finally, he decided, perhaps this was the time to see what *she* wanted to do. "What do you want to do, Scully?" - - - - - - Mulder rubbed the towel vigorously over his wet hair as he stepped out of Scully's bathroom, dressed in his pants and unbuttoned white shirt. Yawning, he peered around the darkened living room, eye finally alighting on the still figure standing by the window. He could see the tension in her stance, almost feel the emotions radiating from her. They'd been up all night, talking, debating, arguing. And by these early morning hours, all they had been left with were two options: either accept defeat and move on, or take the kind of action that neither had ever considered possible before. Until now. Walking up behind his partner, he announced himself quietly. "Thanks for the use of the shower, Scully." "Sure," she replied absently, her eyes fixed on the quiet, pre-dawn street. "You okay?" he asked gently, dropping the towel over a chair and placing his hands on her shoulders. She leaned back slightly and sighed, "No." She laid one of her hands over his and turned to face him. "But I'll manage." "We can stop right here and right now," he told her. She shook her head. "We've been through this a thousand times. I can't." She pulled her hand free and walked into the room. "Sometimes, Mulder, I get scared just being in this room. I see Barry coming for me, his fist slamming down on my face... or Tooms in the bathroom. And the way I felt in that prison when I knew I could be infected..." she shivered and hugged herself, then pivoted back to face him. "No more, Mulder. I won't be the victim anymore. If you want out, that's okay. But..." "NO!" He shouted, then paused and lowered his voice. "Don't even think about it. If we do this, we do it together. Or better yet, you leave it to me." Scully walked back over to him and stood up on her tiptoes to glare straight into his face. Her voice was very calm, utterly resolute. "Don't even THINK about going off without me." He nodded silently in response - THAT tone was not to be argued with. And considering what had happened the last time he went off without her, he figured she did have a point. He wished he could keep her safe, but knew that he couldn't. So he was left with keeping her with him. Together they had a far better chance at succeeding at anything, even something like this. Like this... Under the soft light of the table lamp, he could see the fatigue in her blue eyes, their heavy lids underlined by thick dark shadows. "Why don't you get some sleep" he urged. "You won't be good to anyone, including yourself, if you’re asleep on your feet." She began to protest, running her hand through her hair, only to find herself just barely stifling a yawn. His face was adamant, and though she was certain she could not sleep, maybe resting for a while was not such a bad idea. "I'll even tuck you in," he offered, with a lop-sided grin. "Okay," she said, the exhuastion suddenly hitting her as she led the way into the bedroom. Climbing into bed, she settled down, watching him as he pulled the covers up to her chin. "What are you going to do?" she asked. "You should sleep too." "I'll grab a nap later. You know me, Scully. I never sleep much anyway. And I want to make a couple of phone calls, see what I can dig up on Pink Pharmaceuticals. As the saying goes...'Know thine enemy.'" - - - - - "Mulder!!!!" "Scully, it's okay. Dana!" Scully's eyes blinked open to see Mulder's face hovering over hers. She took a deep breath and settled back against the pillows, feeling her sweat drip down the back of her neck and between her breasts. "Easy, it was just a dream," he reassured her, gently sweeping the hair off her cheeks. She nodded, taking another couple gulps of air before she spoke. "What time is it?" "Nearly noon. If you feel up to it, I have a few things I'd like to show you." He eyed her with some concern. "Yeah, just let me take a quick shower, okay." She said, sliding up to a sitting position. "Sure," he got off the bed and stood up. "I'll be in the living room if you need me." "I can take a shower without help, Mulder," she grumbled. He laughed, winking at her. "I could scrub your back. Hey!" he ducked as she threw a pillow at him. "Get lost, Mulder." "Okay, okay," he tossed the pillow back and left the room. She sat still for a moment, then got to her not-so-steady feet and padded into the bathroom. - - - - - The shower did help, and she felt immensely better as she entered the living room, dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and a loose blue sweater. Mulder was bent over her computer, typing away vigorously. "What have you got?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder. "The Lone-Gunmen had a surprising amount of information on PinkPharm," he replied. "And they were able to hack a good bit more." "Why would they be interested in a pharmaceutical company? I thought their forte was the government." Scully asked with interest. "It is. But they branch out, especially when there are strong government ties." "Well, that would make some sense. There's no doubt PinkPharm was getting a lot of cooperation from both the National Guard and the prison authorities." "Not to mention our mysterious smoking friend," Mulder added with sarcasm. "And according to the LG, PinkPharm has been the beneficiary of a very large number of government grants. From what I've read so far, in fact, it looks like about 90 some percent of their funding is government, though it comes from a mix of sources, DOE, NIH, NIAID, CDC, and more notably the DOD." "Alphabet soup," Scully commented wryly. "What kind of work do they do?" "Mostly 'anti-virals' supposedly, drugs and vaccine production. They also seem to be into enzyme studies, and have an ongoing project to develop new medicines from tribal sources, especially from rare plants." "The project Robert Torrence was working on." Scully interrupted. Mulder nodded. "Still, the work that had the LG keeping a file on them has apparently to do with research into animal viruses, like the highly virulent avian influenza viruses, bluetongue, and one called...umm...enc-ceph-alo-myo-card-itis..." He frowned. "Well, the whatever it is, is supposed to be closely related to Foot and Mouth Disease virus, which is illegal to bring into the U.S." Scully nodded. "FMD is endemic in some parts of the third world, and is extremely deadly for cattle and sheep. Apparently, a single viral particle is enough to kill a cow." Mulder grimaced. "Nice stuff. Anyway, there's no proof for this, and a lot of places in the country are working on the same diseases, but the LG think that PinkPharm's research may be less targeted to finding cures and more towards biological warfare." He leaned back to look at Scully. Her face was grim. "Its pretty thin, Mulder," she replied, wishing hope-against-hope that they were wrong. "Those viruses are deadly for their host species, but almost all are non-infectious - or at least non- symptomatic - in humans. The avian flu may devastate chicken farms, but it wouldn't do a thing to you or me." "Yes," Mulder agreed. "But destroying the food base of the enemy is an old battle tactic. And maybe they could engineer something that WAS infectious for humans." Scully frowned, the technology really wasn't that far along yet. At least she didn't think it was, but her mind kept throwing up images of school children being injected with an alien substance, and the sound of her now-dead ex-classmate saying, "By definition, this is extraterrestrial." Seeing the conflict on her face, Mulder threw in his last card. "Whatever they are doing, Scully, they're not making money in the marketplace. In fact, they haven't taken a product even as far as the FDA in over twenty years." He grinned. "Remind me not to buy their stock." Scully pursed her lips, and walked over to sit on edge of the couch. "I like this less and less." "Me, too." Mulder got up and stretched, then began to pace the room. "The bottom line is, whatever the details, they are up to no good." Scully accepted that without comment, then jolted at the sudden sound of the telephone. "Must be Byars," Mulder said. "He was going to try to get me a list of their grant applications." He went over to the computer and clicked on "receive." "Good, here we go, you'd better look at this, Scully. It's not exactly my field." She took the proffered chair and studied the screen. Mulder got up and paced back and forth, walking over to peer impatiently over her shoulder every so often, then resuming his endless circles. He was on the far end of one, when Scully called out his name. "Mulder, come look at this!" "What is it?" He raced over behind her. "Does that name look familiar?" she asked, using the mouse to center the pointer. "Dr. Alan Berube...Scully!" Mulder's voice rose in excitement, as they looked into each other's eyes. "It makes sense, Scully. PinkPharm must be their primary work facility. For all of it: the experiments with alien DNA, biological warfare, everything! If we could get in there..." "And do what, Mulder? Get evidence out? How long do you think they'd let us live, even if we managed it? They killed my friend - and her entire family - because I gave her the Erlenmeyer flask, not to mention all those people at the prison, including their own scientist." "But with proof, Scully, we could expose them!" Mulder was insistent, ecstatic. "I wish I could be sure of that, Mulder," she replied sadly. "But it's more likely that we would end up dead. And even far more likely that they would use other people to get to us. I traded evidence for you once, what if they take my Mom, or my sister. Or your mother. You may not be close, but would you let them kill her?" Mulder paused, his expression turning grim. "No, I mean....No." He shook his head. "We'd just have to be quick. Once everything is public knowledge, they wouldn't be able to get away with something like that." Scully just looked directly at him, silent and still. "Scully, it's our job to expose the truth, not destroy it. I've dedicated my life - everything - to exposing these people. To just destroy all the evidence, after I've worked so hard, risked so much. Scully..." His eyes turned liquid. "It COULD work!" She remained silent. "Scully..." "Mulder," she spoke softly. "If you are ready to take a chance on it, then okay, I'm with you. But think about it. Even if we get some evidence, and expose a piece of it, they will simply pack up the rest and move it -make it conveniently disappear - then start up all over again. In the meantime, they will fight us, use our reputation against us, threaten our loved ones. Even if some people believe us, others won't. And what kind of price do we pay for it? Every time we've played by the rules - tried to get evidence against them - we lose - and people die. I think it is time to stop playing by the rules that they ignore, and hit them where it hurts." Mulder opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again, clamping his jaw tight. He walked over the window and stared out at the busy, mid-day city street, at all the innocent people rushing along on simple errands. He could *taste* the proof that would vindicate him, validate the years he had spent searching, make up for all he had sacrificed from his life in its pursuit. But he also knew instinctively the truth of Scully's words. Somewhere along the course of the last two years, he had lost his innocence, the ability to believe that justice could be found in a court of law or in the public eye. Perhaps it had been when he almost lost Scully, more probably it had been earlier, at the loss of the both the X-Files and his faith in himself. Even though he had recovered them all, he was not the same man he had been before. Scully felt his turmoil deeply as she watched him stare out the window, much as she had done the night before, as though somehow there would be an answer out there. She wished there was something she could say to help him, but this was a decision he had to make for himself. She knew she'd respect the decision, whichever way it went. Above all else, he was her partner, and that loyalty ran deep - deeper even than she wanted to admit to herself. The long seconds stretched into minutes before he turned back towards her, his face shuttered, eyes cold. But his lips stretched upwards into a smile as he spoke. "Let's kick some butt, Scully." - - - - - =========================================================================== From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Crossing the Line" 2/4 "R" Date: 20 May 1995 18:05:34 GMT "Crossing The Line" Part Two: By Jennifer Lyon Jenni10647@aol.com Jennyann@ix.netcom.com Disclaimer: The characters of the X-Files, and all rights thereto, belong to FOX, 1013 Productions, and Chris Carter. PLEASE READ: A long - but necessary Author's Note First, I want to say upfront, and for the record, (in light of recent events) - that this story is meant in NO WAY to downplay the deadly seriousness of bombs and their effects. In fact that very seriousness is vital to the story. However, if you are at all sensitive on the subject, I strongly suggest that you skip this story. You are hereby WARNED - so do not flame me if you ignore it. Second: as well as containing some violence, this story contains adult sexual activity in detail. This is important to the story - but is only a small part of it. Third: This story will be disturbing! It is meant to be. So again, you are warned in advance. And finally: The episode "One Breath" brings Mulder within the squeeze of a finger from stepping over the edge, but allows Scully, and his love for her, to bring him back. The question I address here is: what happens when it is Scully who is driven past her limits; when it is Scully who is ready to cross the line... Beaver's Cove Bar & Grill somewhere in Virginia Keiran Sinclair brushed his hand through his graying hair, and leaned casually back against the bar. He was a short, but broad-shouldered man, who bore a resemblance to a beer barrel. His formerly curly black hair was streaked with gray, and the weight of too many years, and far too many beers, was slowly encroaching on his middle. Still, he was in excellent shape and he knew it. His 'profession' demanded vigilance, and he was the best. Even if no one in his family would admit to it, or him. Well, except for one very special little lady - the one he was presently waiting for. Ever so slowly his eyes wandered around the dimmed bar, watching the rough men, and weary-eyed women mix and wander, drink and play. This was not a place he wanted to bring the one good thing in his life - but she had been adamant. And like the rest of the women in his family - she could not be denied once she got an idea into her stubborn, red-haired head. "Uncle Key," he turned in surprise to see his favorite niece watching him with amusement. How on earth had she managed to sneak up on him like that. "Robin!" he said with rueful laughter, reaching out to hug her. She grinned and reached up to hug him back. Then he stepped back and studied her for a moment. Her fiery hair was bound up in knot at the nape of her skull, and her usually stylish clothes had been replaced by jeans, a long blue tee-shirt, and heavy dark-plaid loggers' jacket. She looked like she was ready for a camping trip, but her eyes were wary and cold. He felt his stomach sink, that was a look he'd prayed never to see on her lovely face. "Dana, It's always good to see you, you know that, but what's with all the mystery?" he questioned seriously. There was a sudden shift in movement behind her, and Key instinctively pulled Dana aside to confront the stranger towering over her from behind. "No, Uncle Key!" Dana protested, grabbing tight to his arm and holding him back. "It's okay. This is my *partner.*" Key caught the emphasis on that word, and all its attendant meanings. "Partner" said in that way meant more than a working relationship, more than a friendship - though not necessarily the obvious conclusion that could come to mind about a man and woman. Key paused and exchanged judging stares with the much taller man. He saw a thirtyish man wearing jeans, a loose black tee- shirt and a black leather jacket. Black hair swept back from a far- too-handsome face, a few dark strands falling over a high forehead, cheekbones arching from a strong jaw and generous mouth. His niece's partner was easily over six-feet tall, slender - even thin - but in the way a runner or gymnast was thin - what was there was muscle and bone. The expression in the dark eyes was intelligent and penetrating - those eyes could read a man's soul. Not too bad, all in all, and at least there was a hint of humor in the lines around the mouth and eyes, though they were now taught and grim. "Keiran Sinclair," Key offered carefully, "but everyone calls me Key." He held out his hand, and waited for the other man's response. Mulder threw the briefest of glances over to Scully, and she nodded barely perceptibly. Accepting her recommendation, he carefully shook the older man's hand, feeling some surprise at the strength of the man's grip. "Fox Mulder," he replied, then he grinned. "But everyone calls me Mulder." Key grinned back. "Your parents didn't like you much, did they?" He felt more than saw the sudden stiffening in both his companions in response to his joke. Uh oh, he thought, he'd touched a very raw nerve. Mulder's jaw tightened, and Key felt himself recoil slightly at the coldness in that expression. He drew a sigh of relief when all Mulder said was a noncommittal "Not much." Seizing the chance to redirect the conversation, Scully broke in. "Why don't we sit down?" Mulder and Key both nodded, and they walked silently over to an empty table in the corner. Once they were seated, they ordered and received drinks from a breasty waitress with a heavy mane of platinum blonde hair, and long eyelashes, who fluttered them at Mulder every time he glanced in her direction, much to his companions' amusement. "Very funny," he whispered between sips of beer. Key and Scully laughed for a moment, then the conversation quickly became serious. "Uncle Key - I wish I could say that this is a social call, but we need your help." He sighed, he knew that had been coming, and it worried him because he knew his niece. She was self-sufficient to a fault, and besides she was a federal agent. FBI agents simply didn't go looking for help from an aged mercenary, even if he was her uncle, unless something was VERY wrong. The quick glance she exchanged with her taciturn partner just added to that impression. "Okay, Robin, spill it," he urged. "Robin?" Mulder had to interrupt. Scully almost blushed. "Just an old nickname," she dismissed it, turning back to her uncle. "We need..." This was NOT going to be easy. Finally she just blurted it out. "We need to get hold of a bomb - or the makings of a bomb - with instructions - that is not traceable. One with enough power to burn a three-story building to the ground." "What?" Key exclaimed, holding his voice down, and letting his face express his shock. "I know it sounds...Well, it is... I need you to trust me on this. It is important." She exchanged another enigmatic glance with her partner. "You don't want - or need - to know anymore than that." "Robin..." Key studied her for a moment. "Do you know what you’re asking?" "Yes," she replied. "And believe me, I wouldn't ask if there were any other alternative. I don't want you involved, but you were the only person I felt we could trust enough to do this for us. It needs to be untraceable, and high quality. With a timer we can set for a few hours, and still trust the thing to go off on time." "Bombs are not playthings," he began, but one look into her eyes and he stopped. This grim, determined woman knew exactly what a bomb was, and exactly what she was doing. It was hard for him to accept that the little girl he had bounced on his lap - the few occasions he'd been allowed into family gatherings - had grown up. Grown up into a very strong, resolute woman. He let his gaze wander from her face to her partner's shadowed countenance. Those glittering hazel eyes were cold, but just as certain. Key felt fear begin to stir in his belly. This was serious, far more serious than he even wanted to know. He turned back to Scully. "I don't want to know what is going on, do I?" he asked. She simply shook her head. "And I suppose that if I don't help you, you'll simply find another source?" This time she nodded. "And there's no way I'm going to talk you out of this, is there?" Again the silent nod of her head. He sighed and leaned back into his chair. He knew he was going to regret this. No, he already regretted it. "Robin, are you really sure this is necessary?" he asked once more. This time she knew he was giving in, and there was a faint trace of a smile on her red lips as she nodded her head yet again. Key picked up his beer, downed the entire glass in a few gulps, then wiped his mouth, and gave in gracefully. "Where can I reach you." "At this number," Mulder's soft, rich voice came as a surprise as he leaned across the table and handed Key a slip of paper. Key glanced at it, then stuck it in his pocket. "Okay, this will take a day or two. I'll call with the meeting place as soon as everything is ready." They nodded. He frowned, then added one last stipulation. "No ‘real’ names from now on. I'm owl, Dana can still be Robin, Mulder..." he studied the other man for a moment, then grinned. "Raven." Standing up, he gave them one more anxious glance. "I hope you know what your doing," he mumbled, then he turned and walked away. - - - - - - Mulder and Scully were both silent as they walked out of the bar, and got onto the back of the motorcycle they had rented. It had been Mulder's idea, and she hadn't liked it at first. But she had come to appreciate the advantages. First, it seemed to give them some additional freedom of movement; second, who would expect a pair of uptight feds to be riding one of these monstrosities; and third, it was very unlikely a bug could hear anything while they were riding it. "Are you sure we can trust him," Mulder's whispered in her ear, his arms tight around her as he steered the bike onto the road. She leaned back against him, and turned her head to bury her face against the side of his neck. It was the only way he could hear her reply. "As much as I trust anyone. He's family, and for the Scully's and Sinclairs, that means a lot. Besides," he could almost feel her smile against his skin. "I am his favorite niece." "Still, this is asking a lot." he leaned his head down closer to hers, breathing in the fragrance of her hair. "I know," she sighed gently. "But he has access to the stuff we need, and we can count on it to be good. Even I don't know much of his past, he was always appearing and disappearing, and we heard rumors of him in Africa, and the middle east - I never knew how much was truth." "Probably about a third of it at most," Mulder grinned into the wind. It was fun to find out that his partner's perfect family had its black sheep after all. "Probably," she answered, nestling in closer. She was so tired, this week had been a nightmare. First the prison and the disease, the stultifying fear that she was infected, and the rush of relief when she found out she was not. Then the horror of the deaths and their frustration at failing to bring justice to bear on them. She had made a promise to a dying man, one she was going to keep - if in a different way than he had hoped. Still, she felt a little like she was sleep walking though this - especially after the long hours she and Mulder had spent weighing option, arguing consequences, coming up against the same brick wall each and every time. Now they were committed...committed to committing a crime. She almost started laughing at that thought as she twisted back around and leaned the back of her head against his chest, letting the wind bite at her eyes and tear at her hair, as they rode at near breakneck speed down the darkened highway. They were federal agents - and they were about to bomb a building. Were they doing the 'right' thing? Probably not. Did she care? Yes and no. Somehow this had gone beyond cases and investigations, law and order, and had moved into an outright war. No longer would she be a victim anymore. No one was going to use her, control her, experiment on her, hurt her, again. Not without repercussions. And repercussion number one was coming up. Wrapping her hands over Mulder's arms, she let herself enjoy the freedom of riding the cycle, the wind tearing the laughter out of her mouth. Mulder guided the bike with expert hands. He loved driving any motorized vehicle, and this was proving to be far more fun than a car. He supposed he probably had a death wish or something, but this was wonderful! He felt like he was flying, and he allowed himself to just sit back and enjoy it for a few short miles, before his mind drifted back to problems weighing on him. He kept wanting to take Scully and dump her somewhere safe, lock her up if he had to, in order to keep her out of this. For himself, despite his initial misgivings, it had begun to feel like a natural progression. Perhaps, he was giving into the darkness as Melissa had put it, but he saw it more as fighting fire with fire. He shivered slightly at that analogy - he did not like fire, and was not too fond of this bomb idea either. But it was a neat solution. Destroy the place the disease had been leaked from, eliminate the main test site for the alien DNA technology, end the 'game' in one swift move. It was a Scully-kind of idea - but he still didn't like her being in the middle of it. Taking chances with his life and career were one thing - he wasn't sure he valued either - but she was different. She was everything to him. If only... He drew a deep breath, and shook his head slightly. No way would she ever let him do it without her. She'd find a way to come after him, and despite the warmth she'd showed him the last time he'd pulled a stunt like that, he'd seen the anger and determination in her eyes. She'd told him once, quietly, to NEVER do that to her again, and he had taken the warning to heart. She MEANT it. And there was a part of him that exulted at that knowledge. He wanted, needed her by his side so badly that he ached inside when she wasn't with him. And there was another set of questions without answers...what was their relationship and what did he want it to be? Seeing the lights of their motel up ahead, he eased back on the gas and clamped down on his emotions. Like it or not - they die was cast. - - - - - The wheels squealed as Mulder yanked at the wheel, forcing the old Ford van off the old paved country road and onto the graveled driveway. His hands gripped the wheel hard, as they took a pair of sharp turns, finally arriving in sight of a cabin. Made of logs and shingles, the small squat structure leaned slightly to one side, an uneven coat of red paint streaked across the front. Two windows with dingy glass panes were facing the small semi-circle of gravel in front, a thin column of smoke emanated from a small pipe on the roof. Mulder turned off the engine and glanced towards Scully who was already opening her door and leaping out. Pocketing the keys, he followed her lead, slamming his door and moving around the front of the truck to stand by her side. Falling naturally into step in the manner of two people long accustomed to walking together, they deliberately, but cautiously approached the door. Mulder struck the door with one fist, the other resting on his hip close to his holstered weapon. On the opposite side of the doorway, Scully was tensed and ready for trouble. Mulder pulled back as the door swung open, relaxing only when the familiar face of Scully's uncle peeked out. Scully stepped around and flashed a quick smile at her relative, receiving a similar stressed grin in return. "Come in," Key said, letting Mulder take the door from him and backing into the interior of the cabin. Scully followed him in with Mulder close behind. The two agents paused as the door slid shut behind them, allowing time for their eyes to adjust to the relative gloom. There was light, emanating from the windows and a pair of old-fashioned kerosene lamps, but it was soft and scattered, leaving large pockets of darkness in the room. A large, hulking black wood stove dominated one corner, sitting catty-corner to a peeling, white-painted steel sink and small buzzing refrigerator. A rickety iron stove was beside the fridge, close to a small card table and folding chair. Across the room, a loft bed stretched out from the wall, leaving space for a small wooden desk underneath. The center of the room contained an over-stuffed, orange and yellow patterned sofa and two easy chairs, one of brown leather and the other matching the sofa. A long, rectangular piece of plywood, propped off the floor by bricks ran along the front of the couch. The walls were covered with maps and papers, and bits and pieces of machinery were lying in piles along the walls and scattered across the floor. At a wave of Key's hand, Scully and Mulder silently walked over to the couch and sat down, facing the stranger seated in the leather chair. Key took the last chair, letting them study each other for a moment before giving terse introductions. Mulder and Scully both saw a large, bulky man dressed in the ever-present blue jeans and a thick flannel plaid shirt. His hair was pitch black and long, drawn back from his heavy-featured dark-skinned face into a thick braid. His eyes were black, and alert, darting from one of their faces to other as he returned their scrutiny, his nose was large and flaring, his hands surprisingly slender. "Crow," Key said, "this is Robin and Raven." The two agents nodded their heads politely, receiving no more than a flicker in response. 'Crow' was still watching them intently. He openly let his eyes sweep up and down Scully's small, feminine figure, a slight sparkle of pleasure lightening his expression as he admired her beauty. Even in the jeans, pull-over, and heavy jacket, she was lovely, her hair glowing a deep burnished copper in the dim light. Abandoning her with some regret, he eyed her partner with less enjoyment, noting the athletic grace of the man's slender body, the firmness of the jaw, the direct and piercing eyes. Crow met Mulder's gaze and held it, neither man willing to give an inch in the battle of wills, until Scully got impatient and spoke out. "K...Owl," she only barely remembered to use his cover name, frowning as she stumbled into it. This got a dark look from Crow, the unspoken thought "amateur" written large upon his face. Thrusting her jaw forward, Scully continued. "Do you have what we need?" "Crow does," Key replied. "But first, there is a question of payment." Expecting this, Mulder asked calmly, "How much?" "Five thousand for the materials, another five for instruction." This was the first time Crow had spoken, his voice was as heavy as the rest of him, strong and rumbling. "Fine," Mulder replied. They had expected this would be expensive, but they had just enough, with a little left-over for emergencies. He had already been setting money aside over the last two years, cannibalizing both an inheritance from his grandfather and a couple of stock-investments. Scully had added in some money of her own, breaking a couple of long-held bonds and depleting a savings account. He exchanged a confirming glance with her, just to be sure she was ready for this, but he need not have bothered. She was set and determined. "Good," Key said. "Do you need to go for the money, or..." "It's in the van," Scully said. "I'll get it." She rose to her feet and left the room. In minutes she was back, carrying a large briefcase. Unlocking it carefully, she set it on the table in front of Crow. He eyed it, then slammed the top shut and put it on the floor by his chair, nodding at Key, who stood up. "I'm out of this now." He paused and looked directly at Scully. "Walk out with me, Robin?" She rose immediately, smiling. "I'll just be a few minutes." Mulder met her eyes, agreeing without words. Mulder and Crow watched each other warily for a moment, then Crow stood up and gestured for Mulder to join him at the table. "Let's get started...Raven," he said, his deep voice tinged with sarcasm. Following the just slightly shorter man towards the small table, Mulder grimaced, wondering why he always got stuck with embarrassing nicknames. As both sat down at the table, drawing their chairs up close, Crow was thoughtfully admitting to himself that this couple's chosen Name-birds were certainly more appropriate than most he had encountered. The woman was as bright as the Robin, her fiery hair and temper matching the bird. And this "Raven" was as dark and sleek as his namesake; his eyes aware and intelligent, he moved with a grace that was inborn and natural, though it was obvious he had had some kind of training. Good, Crow thought. Now if only the man would prove to be even half as intelligent as he looks. It wasn’t that Crow really cared who they were or what they planned to do with the hardware he was providing. As long he had his money and was safely back on his people’s reservation, he was not concerned with happened in the white world. He’d done his time in the army, still had the scars, physical and mental, from Vietnam. Let them blow each other up, he thought bitterly, it made no difference to him. By the time Scully had rejoined them, Crow had put on a pair of surgical rubber gloves and unpacked a large, metal suitcase, laying a serious of objects out on the table top. As she sat down, he handed them both a pair of gloves, and began to identify each as to function, pointing out the salient features clearly, but rapidly. Scully occasionally interrupted to ask him to repeat something, or explain it in more detail, while Mulder simply watched and listened, absorbing everything. When Crow was finished with his instructions, he quickly demonstrated assembly once, then took the device apart, and eyed the still silent Mulder. "Now you do it," he challenged, arching a thick black eyebrow at the other man. Mulder nodded, then reached out and perfectly mimicked the other man's motions, albeit a little slower. His brow creased in concentration, he set the assembled bomb on the table and leaned back in his chair. "Okay." Crow's face ran through a gamut of emotions - surprise followed by suspicion, mixed with dawning respect. "You've done this before," he accused. Mulder and Scully grinned at each, then Scully inclined her head at her partner. "Photographic memory, he's like a walking video camera. His nickname ought to be 'parrot.'" "Haha," Mulder grimaced at her, then shrugged. "I just remember things." "Useful," Crow grunted, reaching over to disassemble the complex. "Your turn," he told Scully. She frowned, trying her best to ignore Mulder's smug look, and focused on repeating the instructions. Unfortunately, she found that both men had made it look easier than it was, and she had to repeat it several times before she was able to put things together with any speed. After about a dozen tries, she felt like she could do it safely enough, and was delighted to see a quick flash of approval on Crow's dark features. "Any questions?" he asked. Mulder had a couple, and they were quickly dispensed with. Packing the components back in the suitcase, Crow placed it on the table in front of Mulder. Without another word, he strode over to pick the money and left the cabin, letting the door slam shut behind him. Mulder and Scully stared after him for a moment, then turned back to eye the large metal suitcase. For a brief moment, neither wanted to be the one to claim it, then Mulder grabbed for the handle. Sliding it towards him, he rose to his feet. Looking down into Scully's grave up-turned face, he asked calmly. "Ready?" She met his eyes and took a deep breath, then got to her feet. "Ready." - - - - - =========================================================================== From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Crossing the Line" 3/4 NC-17 Date: 20 May 1995 18:07:05 GMT "Crossing the Line" Part Three by Jennifer Lyon Jenni10647@aol.com Jennyann@ix.netcom.com Disclaimer: The characters of the X-Files, and all rights thereto, belong to FOX, 1013 Productions, and Chris Carter. PLEASE READ: A long - but necessary Author's Note First, I want to say upfront, and for the record, (in light of recent events) - that this story is meant in NO WAY to downplay the deadly seriousness of bombs and their effects. In fact that very seriousness is vital to the story. However, if you are at all sensitive on the subject, I strongly suggest that you skip this story. You are hereby WARNED - so do not flame me if you ignore it. Second: as well as containing some violence, this story contains adult sexual activity in detail. This is important to the story - but is only a small part of it. Third: This story will be disturbing! It is meant to be. So again, you are warned in advance. And finally: The episode "One Breath" brings Mulder within the squeeze of a finger from stepping over the edge, but allows Scully, and his love for her, to bring him back. The question I address here is: what happens when it is Scully who is driven past her limits; when it is Scully who is ready to cross the line... Lakeside Motel Rm 18 The silver-colored suitcase sat in the corner of the motel room, peeking out from under the dark raincoat casually draped over it. Mulder could feel its presence as he sat down on the edge of the large single bed, rubbing the small of his back. Scully was in the bathroom, her coat, suit jacket and low-heeled pumps already abandoned on top of the small table by the door. It had been a long couple of days. Before dawn the previous morning, they had secreted the motorcycle in the woods close to this motel, then had driven several long hours to the airport in Albany. Dropping the van anonymously into an automated parking lot and leaving the suitcase in a public locker, they paid for a pair of tickets with cash and flew to Baltimore under assumed names. Next, using the restrooms as a dressing room, they changed from the casual clothing into their FBI- standard suits and returned to Albany under their own names. Arriving in late afternoon, they recovered the suitcase from the locker, rented a blue Ford Taurus and drove back to the small town in upstate New York that housed and fed Pink Pharmaceuticals. The time since their ‘public’ arrival had been spent establishing their 'cover.' Playing the very familiar role of federal agents, they had poked and prodded at Pink Pharmaceuticals, trying to force their way onto company property, questioning everyone in town they came in contact with about the company, basically making a loud public display of their interest in it. In effect, they were hiding in plain sight, doing just what Skinner, the Bureau, and the enemy might expect them to do. Mulder let himself flop backwards onto the bed, undoing the knot of his tie and yanking the brightly patterned silk off his neck. He tossed it towards the bedside table, not bothering to retrieve it when it landed on the floor. The rooms they had taken in the small roadside motel were not fancy, but at least they appeared clean. Having grown accustomed to being constantly together, they hadn't bothered with much of a pretense towards using the second room, it was simply another part of the cover. Scully walked out of the bathroom barefoot, her white shirt loose over her skirt, brushing at her hair. She paused at the foot of the bed and stood quietly, watching Mulder as he lay sprawled out on the bed, his eyes closed, chest rising and falling rhythmically. She smiled tenderly, then walked around to the side of the bed. Placing the brush on the bedside table, she climbed up onto the mattress and stretched out beside Mulder. She rested her chin in her right hand, using her elbow to support her head, laying on her side. After studying him for a moment, she slowly reached out and teased the dark locks of hair on his forehead with her free hand, then traced his cheekbones and jaw with light fingertips. His eyes remained closed, but his hand abruptly seized hers and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly, then let his eyes drift open. "Scully," he breathed, meeting her eyes. She gave him her warmest smile, red lips drawing back over white teeth, long dimples curving up into her cheeks. "Hi," she answered, surprising herself with how shy she sounded. This was her partner, her best friend, she knew him almost better than she knew herself, even though they were not lovers. The FBI frowned on sexual relationships between working partners, and she had religiously toed the line until now. But as he slowly returned her smile with his wide-eyed endearing grin, she felt a familiar rush of warmth flood her body. Though she had spent three long years denying that need, she knew full well that she had wanted him almost from the first moment they had met. Things were different now, she thought with satisfaction - they were no longer playing by those rules. As a sparkle lit up her bright blue eyes, she leaned down over him, letting her hair fall over his until their faces were only a couple inches apart. She paused, watching as his lips parted and his face took on a questioning look. "Scully?" he whispered. "Shhh," she replied, finally bending her mouth down to cover his. With a growl deep in his throat, he returned the kiss passionately, their lips clinging to each other, then parting in mutual accord to let their tongues reach out for each other. That contact was electric, sending a shock wave of desire through her body. She felt his shudder match her own, and his hands reach around to pull her down and over so that she was laying on top of him, her legs intertwined with his, her hips pressed into his belly. Fighting, teasing his tongue with hers, submitting to his long strokes across her teeth, then thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth, she savored each taste of him, not holding anything back. He responded in kind, threading his hands through her hair, pinioning her head above his. Finally, they stopped and separated to draw in deep gulps of air, Scully burying her face into his neck, drawing in the masculine scent of his body with each breath. He let his head fall back, his eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded. After a few moments of holding each other, he reached down to tilt her head upwards. "Scully...are you sure?" His voice was thick with emotion, but tentative in tone. She leaned down to give him a fleeting kiss before she answered. "I won't play by their rules anymore. I'm tired of pretending, of being what they expect me to be: Dana Scully, the perfect professional who lives by the book and does what she is told." Her eyes turned cold and angry, her lips thinned as she continued. "And I refuse to pretend anymore that I don't want you, when I do - and I know that you want me." Her look was almost challenging, daring him to deny his feelings or hers. He studied her for a second, not even considering the option of denying those emotions. He knew what life felt like without her, a living hell he never wanted to experience again. So this wasn't really a question for him, he loved her more than life itself - more than anything, even the obsession that was still much the focus of his life. Without her he had nothing. However, it was extremely difficult for him to vocalize those feelings, so he quickly settled for action instead of words. Closing his hand around the back of her head, he caught her in another passionate kiss. Years of denied need exploded in them both, and they grasped at each other with desperate hands. Scully didn’t bother even trying to unbutton his shirt, she ripped it open, then yanked the thin fabric down his arms. He refused to lose one second of his exploration of her body, leaving the shirt bundled under him, caught in his elbows. Far more interested in the chance to touch and taste the skin of his chest and belly, she abandoned it also, pressing her palms flat against his lungs, letting her fingers probe at his nipples. He groaned, arching his back as she began to trace his ribs with her tongue, nibbling and biting at the flesh, her hands working around her mouth, making his breath come in short gasps. One hand digging into her hair, the other ran up and down her back, then curved around a buttock, then down to her thighs. She squirmed against him as that hand forced its way under her skirt and between her thighs, caressing the smooth flesh in long, slow strokes. Spreading her legs wide around his, she gave him full access to her, moaning softly as he teased her, coming closer, closer to the center of her desire, but always pulling away. Finally, refusing to wait a second longer, all restrictions thrown to the wind, she reached down and closed her hand around his wrist, pushing his probing fingers up against the damp lace covering her, sighing in frustration at the thin barrier between them. But he was more than ready to give her what she needed, his own need raging nearly out of control. With one sharp twist of his wrist, he slipped his fingers under the fabric and ripped it away. A cry broke loose from her lips as he moved swiftly to dig a finger up into her, her hips grinding down against him, seeking more, deeper contact. As that sound grazed at his control, the hand holding her hair dragged her face up towards his, pulling her down into another brutal kiss. Squirming against the hand that was inside her, teasing her, possessing her, she met each kiss with equal passion, biting at his lips, his tongue, his jaw, his nose forcing a cry of mixed pain and pleasure from his lips. Her hands drifted downwards to force his pants open and yank them down off his hips, freeing his engorged member to pulse hotly against her belly. A smile of triumph upturning her lips against his skin, she closed her hands around him, one stroking his length, the other reaching below to tighten on the swollen glands. Beneath her, he bucked upwards, his cry swallowed into her mouth. Then, suddenly, his hands moved, gripping her upper arms fiercely, as he threw her off him to the side, levering himself up and over her. She could feel the bruises developing on her arms, but didn’t mind. Releasing a slow growl she arched her hips towards him, trying to lock her legs around his waist. He held her down for a moment, then let go of her arms and reached for her shirt, ripping it open. She stretched her hands up over her head and let him strip it off her, followed by her bra. Then she entangled her hands in his hair and shoved his mouth down to her breasts. He explored the sweet, scented flesh willingly, delighting in the taste of her, the feel of her. He laved each nipple with his tongue, then bit the hard points with his teeth, then moved to lick the sweat from the deep crevice in between. She sighed, her head falling backwards, her eyes closing, as he kissed even further downwards, leaving one hand on her right breast, using the other to undo her skirt. Once that was tossed aside, he propped himself up on his elbows, staring at her naked body with darkened eyes. She reached for him, wanting more contact, but he grasped her wrists and pushed them down under her back. Using one hand to hold both of hers, he let his other drift into the soft tangle of copper-colored curls at the apex of her legs. He teased and pulled at the hair, then dipped his hand down further, following the caresses with his tongue. "Please..." she murmured, "Please, yes..." as he began to suck on the soft, honeyed flesh. Using his fingers to open her, he thrust his tongue into her, then wrapped his arms around her bottom, holding her in place as her body began to shudder and twist, thrusting against each probe of his tongue until she convulsed and lay still. Releasing her, he moved up the length of her body, then gathered her up into his arms, pressing gentler kisses onto her mouth and cheeks. Her eyes closed, she reached out to hold him even closer, moaning as the cramped muscles in her arms complained. He drew her sounds into his mouth, tenderly tracing her lips with his tongue. But she was not ready to slow down, and grasping his shoulders, she tried to push him over. He resisted, continuing to rain kisses on her face, but she was determined. Pulling up one leg, she carefully, but firmly kneed him in the groin. He laughed and gave in, rolling over onto his back, giving her a wounded look, which only made her laugh as she pounced on him. Sitting over his thighs, she bent down to take him into mouth, soothing him with the magic of her lips and tongue. "Daaaana," he murmured, in a hoarse growl, reaching down to dig his fingers into her hair. She enjoyed the heat of him pulsing in her mouth for a moment, then pulled back to strip his pants, shoes, and socks from his body. Then she moved over him with cat-like grace, pressing kisses and bites onto his legs, abdomen and chest. He whispered her name again, then reached out to pull her mouth back to his. They kissed, then she positioned herself over him and drove herself down over his rigid shaft, taking him deep within her. Feeling her come down around him, then begin to move up and down along his length almost put him over the edge. He cried out, head falling backwards against the mattress, his hands reaching out to take hold of her hips. She wound her fingers around his waist, balancing herself as she rode him, her hair floating around her head in a soft red cloud, her lips parted, her eyes shuttered. He went with her motions, thrusting his hips against hers, running his hands up and down her sides. She leaned down to meet his eyes, closing her hands around his and guiding them to her breasts. Her fingers digging into his wrists, she rubbed herself against his palms and fingertips, purring. He watched her with amazed, but desiring eyes, ignoring the discomfort of her grip on the sensitive skin of his forearms. Then he bent upwards to claim a kiss, pulling his hands free of hers and twining them into her hair. He dragged her down on top of him, causing both to fall to the mattress with a soft thud. She responded with a mixture of a groan and a giggle, kissing him hungrily, even as their lower bodies continued to thrust against each other. He felt his control finally slipping out of his grasp, and in nearly mindless hunger, he threw her over onto her back, then drove himself even more deeply into her. She arched upwards, wrapping her legs around his back, gouging her nails into his back. Both lost in a whirlwind of sensation, they tumbled into simultaneous climax, her convulsions forcing his final release, the hot flood of his orgasm adding to hers. One last shudder through them both, then they collapsed in exhaustion, still entwined, her legs locking him inside her. They remained in that position for a while, then he stirred and began to kiss her gently. She sighed and released him, unable to resist a small murmur of disappointment as he withdrew from her. In response, he gathered her up in his arms, stroking her hair, caressing her back, kissing her neck. "Mulder...." she whispered against his ear contentedly. He stopped for a moment, then placed a hand under her chin and tilted her face towards his so that their eyes locked together. His voice was tender, but firm - sincere and loving. "My name is Fox." "I thought you hated that," she replied, stroking his cheek with her fingers. "I do, from anyone but you. Only you, I want only you..." He never got a chance to finish the sentence, her mouth claiming his in a kiss that grew and deepened. And any thought of continuing the conversation was soon lost, as they made love again, this time slowly, gently, easily rocking each other into the depths of ecstasy and fulfillment. - - - - - The sound of the alarm jolted Mulder up out of sleep. Instantly awake, he reached for the clock, slamming the top of it hard. It sputtered, then silenced. Leaning back against the pillow with a sigh, he watched Scully as she stirred, then opened her eyes. "It's time," he told her gently. She nodded and sat up, letting the sheets fall from her with unconcern. She stretched, yawning, then slipped out of bed and reached for the pile of clothes on top of her suitcase. Mulder followed her lead, turning on a small flashlight to give them some light to work by, but not enough to attract attention in the unlikely event someone was up and around at 2 am. Drawing the heavy black sweater over her head, Scully couldn't help wishing for a shower, but then the memories flooded her, and she hugged herself for a moment, her smile unnoticeable in the shadows. She liked having the feel and smell of their love-making still on her skin. It seemed appropriate that she would be walking into danger with him, while her thighs were still sticky with his semen, his saliva still mixed with the sweat coating her body. It sealed them together, bonded them against the enemy as they went to war. For that was how she had come to see this - a battle to win, a war to fight. Behind her, Mulder was all business. Quickly finishing dressing, donning gloves, he walked around her to pick up the heavy metal suitcase. She followed suit, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves before covering them with the dark leather ones. "Ready?" she asked, turning to look up at him. He nodded, then paused. Stepping up close to her he leaned down and brushed her mouth with his. "Now I am." - - - - - The woods were quiet, the sound of their breathing as loud as the breeze that rustled in the leaves. They stepped carefully through the darkness, small flashlights throwing thin beams of light onto the tree roots and stones, ferns and moss. Finding the cycle exactly where they had left it, Mulder quickly stowed the suitcase in the compartment under the seat, while Scully retrieved the bag of weaponry they had concealed nearby, obscured by a heavy rock and a pile of fallen leaves. Hefting it over her shoulder, she returned to her partner's side, again feeling the spark of mixed amazement and pride towards him. When he had left her in a hotel room in Baltimore, telling her to stay there, she had been partially annoyed and partially amused. Typical Mulder to give her that look - the boyish grin, mischief sparkling in his bright eyes - and then disappear. And that expression had been even more pronounced when he arrived two hours later, just as she was about to start searching for him, only to silence her righteous indignation by dumping a bag full of firepower on the bed. Handguns she had expected, she knew they could be bought off a street corner in any large American city, and most small ones. The shock was the pair of submachine guns, large, black and heavy, along with a shining pile of bullets. Scully grinned to herself at the memory, then thrust it away to concentrate on feeling her way over the rough forest floor. Even in the dark of the night, she could feel his eyes on her as she silently handed him the bag. Resting it against the cycle, he withdrew the handguns, checked the clips, then handed one to her. She holstered it on the small of her back, while he mimicked her motions, placing his on his hip. He handed her a second clip, pocketed his own, then closed the bag and gave it back to her. Then he mounted the bike and sat back, waiting for her to take her seat in front of him. Once she was seated, the heavy sack clasped tight in her arms, he gunned the cycle to a start and slowly drove it through the bumps and jolts of the forest, edging them out onto the empty country road hardly soon enough for either of them. But once they were on the pavement, they were gliding easily, Mulder steering the big machine with deft hands, Scully leaning back into his embrace. They had talked over this part of it a million times, changing strategies, searching for an easier way, finally settling on the most direct route. A simple, frontal assault. Break in, shoot anything that moves, plant the bomb and get out fast. Of course, both were aware that nothing was ever as easy as it sounded in theory - and neither was certain they could REALLY do it. The low, long building came into sight around a bend in the road, its gates locked and closed, the windows black and empty. Mulder aimed the cycle for the gate, and yelling into the wind to Scully to hold on, he drove straight for it. the front of the cycle hit the metal gate, causing the latch to screech and break. The cycle slid onto its side, causing Mulder and Scully's knees to scrape against the concrete. But they had hit the gate at about 50 miles per hour, and the impact tore the mesh of the gate free, sending it crashing inwards. Mulder just barely managed to hold the cycle from falling over, and they spun wildly into the abandoned parking lot. Skidding to a halt not far from the front doors, he held the bike upright just long enough to let her off, then he leapt off, and let it fall to its side on the ground. He reached under the seat and drew out the suitcase, even as Scully drew out the two machine guns. They each shouldered one, Scully holding hers ready to use, pointed forward as they raced towards the building. As they got within a few feet of the doorstep, Mulder slipped to the side as Scully began to fire.. The sound of the machine gun bursts mixed with the shattering of glass, as the bullets broke a wide hole in the huge panes leading into the front lobby. Edging through the jagged opening, Scully went first, Mulder coming through almost backwards, eyeing the parking lot behind them. The alarms were already sounding, and they exchanged a quick glance, setting their mental clocks. Five minutes to the center lab, two to set the bomb, five to get out, and twenty to get far enough away. All assuming everything went as planned. "FREEZE!" a high-pitched male voice screamed as a figure broke through into the lobby from the corridor to the right. Scully pivoted as Mulder leapt instinctively out of the way, his left hand holding the suitcase in a death grip, his right bringing the muzzle of the submachine gun into bear. But Scully was firing even as she turned, and the shadowy figure went down with a gurgle. Cold as ice, Scully stepped over to poke at him with her foot. Then she turned towards Mulder and angled her head towards the other inner door. "Go!" she urged. Mulder responded by moving for door, feeling her behind him, covering his back. His heart was pumping, blood racing, his breath came in gulps. He felt almost lightheaded with the adrenaline, every sensation focused and intense, yet distant. He could see every shadow clearly, hear every sound, his movements felt like they were in slow motion. He'd been in dangerous situation before, but almost always he'd been reactive now he - they - were proactive. They were making things happen. Somehow that made all the difference; he felt like he was riding a whirlwind. It was all he could to keep from laughing aloud. Watching every step her partner took, carefully studying the corridor ahead and behind them, Scully ran along behind him, her footsteps light on the tiled floor. She had never felt more focused, more in control, in her life. A distant part of her mind wondered why she was so calm, her metabolism seemed to be slowed down, not speeded up. Her heart was slow, her breathing measured, her mind clear and serene. Every second, every motion seemed as though it was etched in crystal, clear and shining, her senses totally alert. Footsteps and a door creaking up ahead. Mulder immediately dodged to his right, his back slamming up against the wall to the left as Scully mirrored him, her back hitting the wall to the right so that they were facing each other. Shots rang out, bullets buzzing into the air they had been standing in, one coming within inches of Scully's arm as she turned. Both agents fired their weapons in the direction those shots had come from, advancing inch by inch as they fired. Mulder ducked as a bullet hit the wall by his shoulder, coming down flat on the floor, the suitcase clanking as it hit the floor, the machine gun jolting in his grip as he squeezed the trigger. Bright flashes of fire lit up the hallway, illuminating a pair of men edged into a doorway several feet down the hall. One screamed as he was hit, and tumbled to the floor. The other hid then darted out with a screech, only to collapse beside his companion in another burst from Scully. Then silence. It had only taken maybe 30-40 seconds, but the firefight had seemed like an eternity to them both. "Are you all right," she whispered, offering him her hand. He took it gratefully, scrambling to his feet. "Yeah," he replied tersely, grabbing at the suitcase. Falling in step together, they circuited the two bodies and continued down the hall until they came up to a heavy double door with a security lock. Simultaneously, they both backed up against the opposing wall and blasted it. Scully's gun threw a volley, then sputtered and died out, but it was enough. Handing her the suitcase, Mulder leapt for the barrier, kicking out at the door jamb with his foot. It swung open, and he was through it a second later, Scully immediately behind. Tossing the heavy weapon to her, he took the suitcase and laid it out on the nearest countertop. Scully watched him for a moment, then abandoning her empty weapon for his, she raced back for the door to keep watch. With a clamouring heart, but carefully still fingers, Mulder opened the case and pulled out the components, finishing with the innocuous package of explosives. He studied the small brown object for a millisecond, amazed that something so little could pack so much power. Then his eyes hit on the small figure of his partner, standing tense and alert in the doorway, and a smile broke out on his face, even if it didn't touch his watchful eyes. With deft fingers, he assembled the bomb, checking each step twice, his movements sure and quick, though his emotions were tumbling. He had practiced this over and over in the hotel room - but doing it for real was a different. This wasn't an exercise - this was deadly reality. If he made a mistake... No, it was done. And everything looked just as it should. Checking his watch, he set the timer for thirty minutes, his heart skipping a beat as the device clicked into gear, small red numbers flashing up on the digital readout. Casting around the room for a hiding place, his eyes focused on a big yellow cabinet with a large fluorescent radioactivity sticker on the front. Picking up the softly clicking device and cradling it in his arms, he walked slowly, but purposefully over and placed it inside. Once the door was shut, he was moving at full speed towards the door. As he came up behind her, Scully suddenly leapt backwards, colliding with him. They both slipped to the floor, Mulder underneath. More gunshots rang out, causing them both to fight for their feet. Just at the very moment they were standing again, a pair of dark-blue clad guards burst around into the room, guns at the ready. Another fire-war broke out, each person diving for cover or the floor. Mulder cried out as he felt a bullet graze his left arm, but his right was steady as he returned fire with his handgun, hitting the other man square in the forehead. Her opponent distracted by the death of the other guard, Scully lifted the heavy machine gun and brought it down on his gun arm, then up towards his face. She connected with his nose with all of her strength, and bone shattered and cracked. The man cried out, blood flooding out of the wound, but Scully wasn't finished. Swinging the gun around again, she slammed it into his diaphragm, causing him to fall to the floor. "Lets get out of here!" Mulder urged, grabbing her arm to pull her out of the room. "Wait!" she replied. "He's still alive." "Not for long," Mulder reminded her, but she shook her head. "He saw us, we can't take the chance." But they both paused for a moment, killing someone who was writhing on the floor in pain was a lot different from shooting someone pointing a gun - or shooting a gun - at you. That you could justify if you had time to think, and usually there wasn't time for more than simple instinct. But not this, this was deliberate - colder - different. "I'll do it," Mulder offered grimly. "No!" Scully replied. "I will." They looked at each other for a brief moment, each wanting to take the other's offer, yet each determined to spare the other. Finally, Mulder let out a raspy laugh. "Together, then." Scully nodded and drew her handgun. Side-by-side they lifted and pointed their weapons. "On the count of three...ONE, TWO, THREE..." - - - - - =========================================================================== From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Crossing the Line" 4/4 "R" Date: 20 May 1995 18:08:10 GMT "Crossing the Line" Part Four by Jennifer Lyon Jenni10647@aol.com Jennyann@ix.netcom.com Disclaimer: The characters of the X-Files, and all rights thereto, belong to FOX, 1013 Productions, and Chris Carter. PLEASE READ: A long - but necessary Author's Note First, I want to say upfront, and for the record, (in light of recent events) - that this story is meant in NO WAY to downplay the deadly seriousness of bombs and their effects. In fact that very seriousness is vital to the story. However, if you are at all sensitive on the subject, I strongly suggest that you skip this story. You are hereby WARNED - so do not flame me if you ignore it. Second: as well as containing some violence, this story contains adult sexual activity in detail. This is important to the story - but is only a small part of it. Third: This story will be disturbing! It is meant to be. So again, you are warned in advance. And finally: The episode "One Breath" brings Mulder within the squeeze of a finger from stepping over the edge, but allows Scully, and his love for her, to bring him back. The question I address here is: what happens when it is Scully who is driven past her limits; when it is Scully who is ready to cross the line... Pink Pharmaceuticals Research and Development Laboratories They burst out of the building, Mulder leading, Scully a few feet behind, his long legs eating up the ground at break-neck speed. By the time she caught up, he was already lifting the bike off the ground. As she neared, he revved the engine to life, nearly screaming with frustration as it sputtered and died, burst to life, then sputtered and died again. Just as Scully climbed up into his lap, it finally started and held. Wrapping one hand around her, hugging her close, he maneuvered the bike towards the broken gate. Scully let the machine gun hang loose on her shoulder and grabbed onto him, holding on for dear life as they careened toward the gate. "Scully!" his voice screamed in her ear, his eyes never leaving the road. Turning her head, she saw the guard running towards them from the gate, and she reached for the machine gun. Mulder drove straight for the blue-clad, bulky man, the headlights illuminating the insignia on his jacket, pushing the bike to its top speed. Shots rang out towards them as he fired, causing Mulder to swing the bike sideways. As the bike tipped to its side, angling around the man, Scully opened fire, the gun's recoil pressing her back against Mulder, his body absorbing the shock from hers. Then they were through the gate and out on the open road. A quick glance over his shoulder, confirmed for Scully that her shots had been true, and she sank back against Mulder with a mix of relief and disbelief, exhaustion and elation, rushing through her mind. Mulder pushed the bike hard, angling off on side roads in order to avoid incoming police cars. The route was slower, but safer, and the ride was quick. Less than a mile from the hotel, they dove into the woods, pushing their way through the underbrush until they had to get off the bike and push it. Just as they had reached the lake-shore that was their goal, the ground rumbled, a loud distant roar thundering into the night. Even through the dense tree-tops they could see the flare of light in the distance, and they both froze. After the initial sudden blast, things were quieter at this distance, and the sound of their heaving lungs soon dominated the night. Then, moving almost like robots performing programmed tasks, they tipped the motorcycle into the lake, watching the watery mud bubble around it as it sank. The guns were dumped next, the heavy metal sinking quickly into the thick mire. Then they walked around the water's edge for nearly a mile until they hit a path leading up towards the motel. Moving like shadows, they slipped into the bathroom window of the room, and began to strip. The gloves and clothes went into the bathtub for a good soaking in bleach. They used the sink to scrub at their bodies with soap and hot water, the cleansing done more for psychological than physical reasons. Neither had spoken a word yet, neither knew what to say. Finally, after drying themselves with the courtesy towels, they washed the bleach away, replacing it with a flood of water. Then clothes were then left to drain, while they went back into the main room without a word. Both were still stark-naked, and hardly concerned with that fact. Mulder sat himself on the edge of the bed with a sigh, burying his face in his hands, while Scully went to the window and using the drapes as a shield, stared out at the far-distant blaze that lit up the night sky. Shivering slightly, she hugged herself, her eyes focused out of the window, as the tears began to flow silently down her cheeks. Mulder noticed only the shaking of her shoulders, but he was behind her in an instant. "Scully...?" he closed his hands around her shoulders. His touch on her bare skin broke the final barrier, and she broke into loud, convulsing sobs, pressing herself into his embrace. "Scully..." he murmured against her hair, tightening his grip on her. Leaning his cheek against the top of her head, he closed his eyes, squeezing out a few salty tears of his own. In the end there wasn't triumph, or even any satisfaction. He felt sick and shaky inside, and he could feel the grief that wracked her body as it convulsed against him. They stayed in their embrace for a long time, until her sobs lessened into a quieter weeping. He swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed they had abandoned barely two hours ago - though it seemed like a lifetime ago. Sweeping the covers aside, he laid her down gently on the mattress, brushing the hair off her face tenderly. As she felt him move away, she reached for him, grasping onto his arms. "No," she pleaded. "Fox...." "I'm here," he said, getting into bed beside her, and pulling the covers up over them both. She curled up against his side, twining her arms around him. As she pressed her mouth against his cheek, she whispered. "Make love to me, Fox." "Shhh," he replied, rolling his head over so that they were face to face. Bending closer he licked at her still moist cheeks, tasting her tears, then he claimed her mouth with the heat of his. - - - - - Where the sprawling, three story building, with its pink- painted walls and massive glass panes had stood nestled in flowering bushes, green lawns, and rows of trees, there was now a scene of utter destruction. A leveled pile of embers still smoldered, overlain with a sparkling sheen of shattered glass. Here and there, a piece of foundation still stood upright, or bent at odd angles. Bits and pieces were strewn for yards, some barely recognizable, others charred and melted into a shapeless blobs. Men were sorting through the wreckage, crawling over it like ants on spilled ice cream, picking up and discarding fragments, one or two shouts ringing out when something even possibly human was found. Mulder and Scully were both grim as they drove up to the shattered gate. A local police officer stopped them, motioning them to park the car off the side of the road in response to their badges. Mulder eased the car behind a police cruiser and shut off the engine in silence. They exited the car in unison, and walked briskly back towards the gate, nodding at the officer who let them through without question, his young face bearing a look of shocked disbelief. They edged around the chalk-lined spot where the last guard's body had fallen, Scully shivering slightly as the memory flashed before her eyes. "You okay, Scully?" Mulder whispered in her ear. "Yeah, Mulder, I'm fine." Her voice was steady, but her eyes were haunted. As they both strode forward to look at the devastation they had wrought the night before, he rested a hand on the small of her back - a slight touch - but it was enough. They both knew what had to be done - the role they had to play. Whatever regrets haunted their hearts and souls, the deed was done. "Sheriff," Mulder called out to the tall, cadaverous man they had met briefly the previous day. When he approached them, his sigh of irritation was nearly audible, his gaunt features tightening as he came up beside them. Knowing that it was vital to take control, Mulder challenged the other man first, his voice as sharp as a knife's edge. "Why weren't we called immediately?" "We've been a bit busy, Agent..." The sheriff deliberately managed to forget the FBI man's name, having no desire to deal with the Feds. They had given him a headache the day before, which was quickly erupting into a migraine. It was bad enough that he'd lost a friend in this disaster, the idea of turning control of the investigation over to these two suits made him furious. "What happened here, Sheriff?" Scully's voice was cool and soft. The sheriff rubbed the back of his neck and eyed her for a moment. Dressed in a perfectly-tailored black suit, with a silky white blouse peeking underneath, her small feet were in low-heeled black pumps, her bright red hair was bound up in a tight chignon on the back of her head. Cool and professional - and obvious determined to interfere. Though if this was a terrorist bombing, he thought, then maybe he ought to dump it off on this woman and her GQ-model of a partner. Let them pick up this mess....but no. Jimmy had been on duty here last night, his body still lost somewhere in the ruins, and the sheriff was not about to leave the capturing of his friend's killers to anyone else. They were both waiting for an answer, staring at him like he was some kind of backwoods idiot. Straightening his back, the sheriff spoke up briskly, not bothering to hide the hostility in his voice. "Near as we can tell someone broke in here, armed with machine guns, and blew up the place. We only just got the fire under control less than an hour ago, so we haven't had time to pull much out of it yet." He turned to look at the destruction behind him, and added, with a touch of sadness. "And I doubt there'll be much left to find." Then he spun back to the two agents, his eyes narrowing. "What do you two know about this? Does it have anything to do with your investigation? If you knew that this might happen..." "How were we supposed to know that?" Mulder shot out, then his face shuttered, and he continued in a flat voice. "We were investigating possible health and safety violations, relating to the deaths of three scientists associated with Pink Pharmaceuticals over the past year. The evidence we needed was most likely in there," he inclined his head towards the demolished building. "Without it, our investigation is at a stand-still..." He let his voice trail off, leaving the implications open. Had the bomb been set to destroy the evidence? "What kind of violations?" the sheriff started to ask, when he was interrupted by a loud voice. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully!" Both looked over their shoulders, their stomachs sinking at the sight of the familiar man striding towards them, thick and heavy with a large bald spot on the top of his head, trailed by three more men, all in dark suits and sunglasses, all with "FBI" practically branded on their foreheads. Mulder and Scully exchanged quick glances of surprise, then Mulder stepped forward. Spaulding!" he said, with apparent heartiness. "Didn't know you had been reassigned to this part of the country!" Spaulding glared up at the taller agent. "I haven't been reassigned" he started to explain, then broke off, and began again. "Agent Mulder," he said formally, "Assistant Director Skinner wishes to see you and Agent Scully in his office as soon as possible. He assigned us to escort you there immediately." "Did he indeed?" Mulder muttered under his breath, brow crinkling in concentration. Well, actually not too surprising, he considered, though Skinner must be REALLY mad to send out the goon squad. Mulder couldn't help feeling a touch of amusement, however, wondering how Skinner would react if he knew the truth... Spaulding bristled at the mischievous smile that broke out on 'Spooky' Mulder's face. Did the man ever take anything seriously? But before he could say another word, Scully broke in, stepping up beside her partner briskly, eyeing the balding agent with obvious distaste. "If you hadn't noticed, Spaulding, we're in the middle of a situation here. We can't go running off to Washington every time the A.D. snaps his finger, and still be expected to get our job done." "Maybe not, Agent Scully," Spaulding replied, eyeing her with a mix of frustrated desire and irritation. "But the Assistant Director was quite ADAMANT that you return immediately." "That was before the bombing" Mulder argued, in his most reasonable voice. "I'm sure that once you explain what happened, he'll understand. As soon as we have the situation here under control, we'll report in." They didn't really want to postpone the return to Washington, but there was no way they were going to roll over and play dead for Skinner, and certainly not for Spaulding. Besides, it would look funny if they gave in too easily. Spaulding felt his stomach turn over, he was definitely getting an ulcer, and getting chewed out by an angry A.D. over some unstated trouble caused by these two had not helped. And if that weren't enough the A.D. had forced him to come play baby-sitter to this pair of renegade agents, wasting his time and that of three of his men, as though they didn't have anything better to do than play fetch. Not to mention appearing as fools in front of the local law enforcement, a member of which was watching this exchange with obvious amusement. Mulder and Scully stood their ground, gazing at him calmly, refusing to move an inch. Both had encountered 'balding' Spaulding before, and neither had any liking or respect for him. Mulder was quietly branding the man a fool, Scully was remembering with extreme distaste a pass he had made at her at an Academy party. The memory made her queasy, and she favored Spaulding with her very best look of icy disdain. That was the last straw as far as he was concerned. Ignoring the chuckles from the sheriff, he puffed himself up and told them with ringing authority. "The Assistant Director instructed me to escort you back, and I quote 'either willingly or hand-cuffed and hog-tied' unquote. And he doesn't care which." For the first time since the previous afternoon's session in Skinner's office, Spaulding found himself able to smile. Watching them with a smug expression in his small, pale blue eyes, he asked them triumphantly. "Which will it be?" Mulder found that too good an opening to pass up. Baring his teeth in a brilliant smile, he leaned down towards Scully. "Hmmm, what do you think, Scully? Feel like a little bondage?" Though her face remained serious, her eyes sparkled as she glanced consideringly from Mulder to Spaulding, and back again. "Ahhh, maybe later, Mulder. IF you're a very good boy." Tapping his cheek with a fingertip, she turned and walked away. Mulder shrugged and followed her towards the car, leaving a gaping-mouthed Spaulding standing beside an openly chuckling sheriff. - - - - - "What the hell did you two think you were doing!?!?" Assistant Director Skinner raged at the two agents standing defiantly in front of his desk. "Our jobs, Sir," Scully replied blandly. "Your jobs? I have no recollection of assigning you to go around investigating Park Pharmaceuticals! In fact, I have a distinct memory of telling you to leave this alone, Agent Mulder." Skinner was furious. He gave them orders for good reason. When on earth was Mulder ever going to start listening? Skinner sighed at himself for thought - Mulder might listen when hell froze over - but probably not a moment sooner. "The evidence was there, if we'd had more time we could have gotten it!" Mulder protested, his hazel eyes blazing with characteristic fervor. "We were close," Scully seconded. "I'm certain that a couple of the employees were ready to talk..." "Enough!" Skinner yelled. He took a deep breath, instantly bringing himself under control. In a soft, but biting tone, he continued. "I told you to let this go for good reason. Instead you disobeyed my direct order, disappeared from your present assignment without warning, and then got involved with the bombing of a prestigious pharmaceutical company." "Prestigious?" Mulder's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Isn't deadly a better word." "The case involving the prison epidemic is closed Agent Mulder. Finished. Do I make myself clear!" Mulder's face slammed shut, his eyes blazing, his jaw clamping tight. "Un-der-stood," he enunciated. Beside him, Scully nodded, her face betraying no emotion. "Good," Skinner replied, "Now how about explaining to me how Pink Pharmaceuticals got burnt to the ground less than a day after you two arrive in town." "I'd like an answer to that also," came a voice from the shadows behind them. Mulder and Scully both turned, their expressions remaining closed and grim. "Perhaps, YOU could tell US," Mulder attacked angrily. The figure leaning back in its chair, shrugged. "I wasn't there, Agent Mulder. But somehow, you were..." "I certainly hope you don't think WE had anything to do with that, Sir." Scully turned to Skinner, speaking with sing-song sincerity. Skinner frowned, he'd heard that tone from her once before, and he knew she'd been lying though her teeth. But surely, they couldn't... But before he could finish the train of thought, Mulder interrupted. "Blowing up buildings is hardly our style," he said bitingly. "And we lost our last chance of getting evidence to prove Pink Pharmaceuticals involvement in infecting those convicts when the building was destroyed. Rather convenient, don't you think?" He threw a burning glance at the shadowed man, then turned back towards Skinner. The FBI Assistant Director was not happy to admit it, but Mulder had a point. Frowning, he glared at the annoying intruder still seated in the corner, wishing there was a way to get rid of him for good. Unfortunately, that was only likely to occur when Mulder was gone too, and despite the younger man's ability to cause immense trouble wherever he went, Skinner still liked him, more than he wanted to admit. But protecting him was getting more and more difficult - especially when he had to be protected from himself. Seeing the uncertainty on her superior's face, Scully quickly volunteered, "If you'd like us to go back and investigate it, Sir, we'd be glad to go immediately." "NO!" Skinner insisted. "If I find either one of you within thirty miles of the place, I'll have you transcribing bank fraud surveillance tapes for the next three months!" That threat got the expected grimaces, and he sat back with some slight satisfaction. Still, he was definitely feeling uneasy. But there was nothing more he could do except to try to get them occupied on something less likely to cause trouble. Reaching for the top file on his desk, barely glancing at the case identification, he handed it out to Mulder. "Here, this is your next assignment," he growled. "Now get moving!" "Yes, Sir!" Mulder took the file in one hand, executing a mockery of a military salute with the other. Without another word, Mulder and Scully walked together out the door, though not without giving it a good, loud slam behind them. - - - - - They headed for the external grounds of FBI headquarters by unspoken agreement. Ending up below the same oak tree they had stood under only a few short days before, they stood for a moment in complete silence. Then Scully angled her head up at her partner and commented as though she were talking about the weather, "Looks like he bought it." "Yeah," Mulder answered. Conversation died, and they stood together in an uneasy silence. Finally, Scully broke the spell. "It all seems so unreal. Like I dreamed it." "I know," Mulder replied. "But it was real." He stared pensively up at the building. "I just wonder if we accomplished anything." Scully wanted to tell him that they had accomplished a lot, but the words stuck in her throat and wouldn't come out. Had they done more than become criminals themselves? Suddenly she wasn't so sure. Six men were dead, a building lay in ruins, and what did they have to show for it? The satisfaction of revenge? Yes, there was a certain cold comfort in knowing they had succeeding in damaging the enemy, but how much, and for how long? Instead of triumph, they were left with empty questions, no answers - in effect right back where they started. No, she told herself, not back where they had begun. They had both learned a lot about themselves, about their own capabilities, about their own internal darkness. They had lost what had remained of their innocence. A tear found its way down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. Then she glanced up at Mulder's grimly-set, beautifully- carved features, focused intently on the air between them and the building, and felt a small rush of warmth. At least they had each other; they were committed utterly and without reservation, all the barriers broken down. She knew they would suffer for what they had done, probably for the rest of their lives, that neither would ever be the same again, but as long as he was with her, she knew she could handle it. As long as they were together, they could handle anything. Reaching out to twine her fingers through his, feeling his hand convulse around hers, gripping it tightly, she allowed herself a faint smile. "Come on, Mulder," she said. "We've got work to do." Side-by-side they walked back into the building, the small manila file folder tucked haphazardly under Mulder's arm, a grainy photo peeking out of the corner, exposing the battered and bloody face of a teenage girl. - - - - - Skinner winced at the sound of the slamming door, then advanced on the seated figure. "I had better not find out that you or your people were involved in that bombing..." he threatened. Standing up lazily, the other man smiled menacingly. "Save the threats, Assistant Director. We had nothing to do with it." He strode for the door, opened it, then paused and turned. "The question remains, just how much did Mulder and Scully have to do with it." He turned and left. Skinner sat back down on his desk, reaching under his wire-rimmed glasses to rub at his eyes in exhaustion. "How much indeed?" His mind ran in circles, nauseau rising in his throat, then he shut his thoughts down fiercely. It just wasn't possible, he told himself firmly, not Mulder and Scully. Dismissing his doubts, he reached for the next unsolved case on his desk, opened the file and began to read. The End.