True Lies 
By Paige Caldwell 
paigecaldwell@hotmail.com 

Classification: MSR, X

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.  No infringement is intended.

Spoilers: Through "One Son"

Archive: Please do, but drop me a line as to where.

Summary: Sequel to "An Ordinary Life". The ordinary life Scully left the
Bureau for was a lie. Reunited with Mulder, they flee the danger created by
her role as a CDC operative, only to discover the truth isn't what they
believe it to be.

Author's Notes: Many thanks to Kimberly at Clinique's Hidden Gems for her
support in navigating me through the posting process.  And to the readers who
took the time to e-mail their comments and requests for a sequel.


Part One of Three

The main office for the Center for Disease Control was
located in Atlanta, Georgia.  When Dr. Jason Myers boarded a
private jet, sent two days after the bombing of Baltimore
General, he expected to be flown to the agency's headquarters for
debriefing.  He was a renown trauma surgeon, one of the best in
the mid-Atlantic.  He had been chosen to participate in the
Program not just for this recognition, but because of his
reputation as being innovative, a man of dark, impenetrable
resolve.  He was capable of wielding his influence as effectively
as his scalpel.

It was these qualities that drew the CDC's operative to
Baltimore.

Her diminutive size and gender was quickly overshadowed by
her commanding presence.  If she was impressed by him, she didn't
show it.  She was not the type to flatter, nor was she overt in
her attempt to enlist him.  In her pragmatic style, she revealed
the secret of the alien virus.  She met his horrified reaction
with calm, unperturbed eyes.  When he fired off a round of harsh
expletives, she lifted a placating hand and offered a viewpoint
that diminished his terror.  A virus was a virus despite its
origin, she told him.  This particular virus could not only be
curtailed, it could be prevented.  The CDC had a vaccine.  One
that could effectively immunize the public.  One that would
guarantee survival.  His survival if he chose to accept the
truth.

Dana Scully could be very convincing when she wanted to be.

Now she was gone.  Despite tight security measures, the
Program had been compromised.  The results were immediate and
devastating.  In one day, his hospital had been blown into a
seven-story mountain of debris.  That he had survived the bombing
seemed more than arbitrary luck.  It seemed predestined.  It had
been his skill as a surgeon that had saved the life of Scully's
former partner.  It was that man, Mulder, who turned out to be
the one capable of removing the operative from danger.  And, it
was his intrigue with them both that had ultimately saved his
life.

Myers glanced out the window of the jet.  The morning sun
was behind them now. They were not headed South.  They were
flying due west.  His eyes crossed the aisle to where his escort
sat stoned faced and silent.

"We're not flying to Atlanta," he observed.

The man didn't respond.

Myers realized then that distinction had its drawbacks.

*****

When Mulder called Skinner to tender his resignation, there
was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.  When his
superior spoke, his voice was curt and unflinching.

"Your resignation is not accepted, Agent Mulder"

"When I fail to report to work will it be accepted then?"
Mulder matched the man's tone.

"I heard about what happened..." the Assistant Director
began.

"Don't believe everything you hear," responded the agent.

"Hearing and believing are two different things," stated
Skinner.  "I've heard the speculation of domestic terrorism, but
certain coincidences can no longer be ignored."

"Certain conclusions are best left unspoken," prompted
Mulder.

"Then see to it that certain actions are taken," finished
Skinner.

"Thank you, sir," Mulder exhaled in relief.

"Don't thank me, yet,"  warned the Assistant Director.
"You're getting sloppy, Mulder.  You've forgotten a basic rule of
your training."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"Covering your tracks," reminded his supervisor.  "Make the
most of your resources, Agent."

With this admonition, Skinner hung up the phone.

*****

Later that morning, Mulder realized the mistake that Skinner
was alluding to.  Scully's car.  In his panic to get her out of
Baltimore, he had not considered the obvious.  They should have
abandoned her car in the hospital's parking lot.  Evidence that
would have corroborated her death had been clearly visible on
major highways.  He took immediate steps to rectify his
carelessness.  Using one of his Bureau generated alias, complete
with a driver's license and credit card, he rented a car.  That
it was a Ford Bronco was more than a recognition that four wheel
drive might come in handy.  It was a signal to Skinner that his
plan was to go under, as far and fast as he possibly could.

They curved through the countryside of Pennsylvania,
distancing themselves from the major cities, maneuvering miles of
back roads before they stopped.  Together, they pushed Scully's
car down a deep incline that led to a ravine full of underbrush
and trees.  As it careened down the slope, the car suddenly
flipped, and slid along it's roof to where it slammed against the
tree.

"To think I just had it serviced," she said in a dead pan
voice.

Mulder turned to look at her.  She stood at the edge of the
ravine, hands on hips, her lips blowing the strands of auburn
hair that had strayed into her eyes.  Her face was dotted with
perspiration.  It was a hot, humid day and pushing the car had
worked up a sweat for both of them.  On her, it looked good.  The
flimsy material of her blouse clung to her breasts, revealing
more than she realized.  Despite the cuts and bruises, she looked
smoldery, even sexy.

For a moment, he was distracted by the image of making love
to her.  Out in the open field, in broad daylight, even if every
farmer in Pennsylvania was within spitting distance.

But, he wanted more than just the intimacy of her body.  He
wanted her back.  Not Scully, his former partner or doctor or CDC
operative that she had become.  He wanted to regain what the
bombing in Baltimore had shattered...an ordinary life with the
woman he was in love with.

He had discovered that there were facets of an ordinary life
that gave him true contentment.  Sharing her bed was only one of
them.  He had found others.  The feel of the afternoon sun
against his face as they sat on the dock by her harbor side
townhouse.  The crisp taste of Chardonney from a shared wine
glass.  The sparkle of her blue eyes as she dipped her bare foot
into the harbor and splashed water at him.

There were more...so many more.  The sound of her soft
laughter when he suggested that they take turns preparing meals.
He wasn't a capable cook.  She was superb.  Each dinner was a
carefully planned event.  A time to linger across a candlelit
table, but not in the classic, romantic sense.  There were no
soulful glances.  No hand holding.  Instead, the table rocked
with animated, biting conversation.  He would bait her with
topics ranging from the nonsensical to the sensational.  Her wit
would respond with lightning speed and accuracy.  It played out
well between them.  Compatibility was not limited to those who
shared similar ideas.

"Marry me, Scully."

His words were really an extension of his thoughts.  Only
after he spoke them, did he realize that he should have shared
them first.

The vivid blue eyes glided over to his.  They held a flicker
of surprise, then turned bitter.

"Yeah, right," she scoffed.  She spun around and headed
towards the rental car.  He trailed after her, saying,

"I'm serious."

Scully opened the car door.  He reached over her shoulder
and slammed it shut.  She whirled around.  Her eyes fired rounds
of indignation.

"You can't marry a corpse, Mulder."

"You're not dead."

"I'm listed among the dead, or presumed dead," she corrected
herself. "We can't tamper with that by taking out a marriage
license, can we?"

"Why does everything have to begin and end with our jobs?"
he protested.

"Because our survival depends on how well we do it," she
stated in an uncompromising tone.

"Fine.  Have it your way."

His reverie was shattered.  As always, her logic had the
accuracy of a guided missile.

He stalked around to the other side of the car and yanked
open the door.  Looking over the hood of the car, he saw that she
hadn't moved.  She was staring off into the distance,
contemplating what he hoped was a callous disregard of his
feelings.

"You think the corpse might get into the car so we can get
out of here?"

His scathing words had the desired effect. Scully got back
into the car and slammed the door.  He, in turn, slammed his.

They continued down the road for miles, neither of them
speaking, both of them staring out the windshield in silence.  He
turned up the air conditioning to cool down the car which was
stifling with the heat of the afternoon sun.  The brisk air from
the vent blew steadily against her face and hair.  It relieved
the discomfort of her hot skin, but not the raging tension inside
of her.

At first, she had not taken him seriously.  Caught off
guard, she had failed to see that his hazel eyes had been
sincere.  That she had responded with cynicism was really a
defense mechanism.  One she had learned to deploy when faced with
situations which left her emotions raw and her nerves on edge.
He had effectively taught her this strategy by example. When it
came to sarcasm, this man was the master.

And now, he was hurt by her use of it.

She rubbed the bandage across her forehead.  She was still
suffering torturing headaches since the bombing.  A symptom of
trauma.  An emotional manifestation that was far worse than any
of her physical injuries.  Because she was a doctor, she
recognized the signs.

Because she wanted to stay on equal footing with Mulder, she
did not share her diagnosis with him.

Another problem was slowly manifesting between them.  Sexual
tension had finally been released, but professional tension was
still wound up tightly. Her new role in the prevention of
colonization had been grudgingly acknowledged by him, but not
accepted.

He wanted confirmation of their commitment.

She needed to be sure of his motives.

She didn't doubt that he loved her, but knew that his
emotions, however genuine, would not withstand the force of his
obsession.  A compulsion so strong that defeat held no meaning.
He had returned to Behavioral Crimes to lick his wounds and to
wait, poised and ready, for the game to resume.  And, she had
become an integral player in the game, one capable of returning
him to where he wanted to be.

To her, the game was not enticing.  It was cruel.  One with
no rules, only horrid reminders when one made the wrong move.
She had underestimated the danger.  As an operative for the CDC,
she should have been better prepared.  She had known the risks.
The Program had been designed to cloak the truth to prevent the
outbreak of hysteria.  Because of this, she had been able to
justify the flagrant violation of the oath she had sworn as a
doctor.  But now, the ethical dilemma was spinning out of
control.  To continue the Program under this new threat would be
a reckless disregard of humanity.

Scully shuddered.  The airconditioning was no longer
refreshing. It was blowing too hard against her chilled skin.

"Can't you turn it down a bit?" she heard herself ask.

"What, are you cold?"

She could tell that he was still angry by his scoffing tone.

"I didn't think corpses felt the cold," he muttered as he
turned the vent towards him.

An ordinary life.... an ordinary life with him.

The prospect no longer seemed so enchanting.

*****

Myers was escorted to the office of the Assistant Director
who supervised the Program for Eastern Division of the CDC.  He
had not expected such upscale offices for such a remote location.
The plane had landed near the mountains of West Virginia.  A
jeep had met him on the landing strip and driven him through a
series of tunnels that coursed through the hills.  They led to an
underground facility which was the Program's headquarters.

He was seated in front of an impressive mahogany desk that
bore several clues of the Assistant Director he was about to
meet.  His eyes scanned passed the computer and focused on the
desk set.  A leather trimmed blotter...a crystal pen holder... a
Waterford paper weight.  It was distinctly feminine.  Although
the brass name plate gave no clue other than "Assistant Director
D. Scott", Myers was certain that the program's superior was a
woman.

His intuition was right on target.  As the door opened, he
was greeted by a tall, brunette who extended a solicitous hand.

"Dr. Myers, I presume?" the woman smiled generously.

Myers rose from his chair to shake her hand.

"Assistant Director," he responded, noting the french
manicure, the slender fingers and the thin blue veins that ran
underneath her white skin.

"How good of you to report in so quickly."  The woman
released his hand and moved around to the back of her desk.  "The
event in Baltimore has left the Division both stunned and
dismayed."

"It also left three hundred and forty six people dead and my
hospital flattened,"  replied the doctor.

"A tragedy among several.  As you know, Baltimore was one of
three hospitals bombed that day."  The Assistant Director
remarked as she glided into her chair.  She sighed, as she leaned
over to flip on her monitor.  For a moment she gazed at the data
that darted across the screen.

"I don't know what you expect to learn from me other than
what I've already reported." commented Myers taking his seat.

"Baltimore was on my watch, Dr. Myers," the woman said as
she glided the mouse over its pad.  "I'm interested in more than
the number of casualties."

"What exactly are you interested in?"  the doctor asked.

The Assistant Director paused the mouse and clicked the
button.  Another field filtered across the screen.  Her dark eyes
scrutinized several entries as she calmly inquired.

"Where is the operative?"

"Good question." the man rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Where do you think she is?"

The woman's dark eyes slid over to his.

"Her body has not been discovered," she remarked.

"Sifting through seven stories of rubble could take weeks,"
offered the man.

"There are witnesses who placed Dr. Scully in the emergency
room just prior to the explosion," conveyed the woman.

"Are there?" Myers lifted his eyebrow.  "Funny, I was in the
emergency room and I don't remember seeing her."

"So, you mentioned in your report," commented Scott.  She
turned to face him.  She folded her hands and rested them on her
desk.  "Over two weeks ago, you performed emergency surgery on a
federal agent by the name of Fox Mulder."

Myers nodded.

"What can you tell me about Agent Mulder?"  questioned the
woman.

"He came in with a gunshot wound to his upper right
extremity,"  the doctor narrated. "He experienced a hemothorax
which was promptly drained and...."

"I'm not interested in his clinical course," interrupted the
Assistant Director.  "I want to know if he was exposed to the
operative during his admission."

"He was," related Myers.  "Why are you attaching such
importance to Agent Mulder?"

"Why are you protecting Dr. Scully?"  countered Scott.

"You want me to explain the obvious?"  Myers folded his arms
and leaned back in his chair.  "Okay, I'm game.  The Program has
been compromised.  And, I suspect by someone with enough
knowledge to pinpoint the hospitals which hosted the Program.
The CDC has one hell of a leak, Assistant Director.  I just want
to make sure that it's not sitting in front of me."

If the woman was shocked or offended, she didn't show it.
Instead, she studied the man more carefully, as if she was taking
in the details of his face.  His skin had been burned by the heat
of the bomb's explosion.  Not badly, just enough to cause him
discomfort and give his olive complexion an odd, pink tinged
look.

"The Program is fortunate to have you in it, Dr. Myers."

"The Program is in the crapper, if you'll pardon my
expression," retorted the man.  "If the CDC can't protect their
own people and the hospitals which sponsor the program, then
don't expect their cooperation."

"Which is exactly why I need your help." conveyed Scott.

"You overestimate me."

"Actually, I believe that the CDC has underestimated your
influence, Dr. Myers."

"As what?" he sneered.  "A door to door salesman to
unsuspecting facilities throughout the country?"

"No." There was a hint of amusement to her voice.  "We have
those already.  I need you to influence the Baltimore operative
to return to duty."

"Are you telling me that Dr. Scully makes that much of a
difference to the Program?"

"It is imperative that she return to headquarters at once."

"Why?"

"Because where she goes, her former partner will follow."

"We're back again to Agent Mulder," noted Myers.

"If anyone can sniff out a traitor, he can," she advised.
"He's the best profiler that the FBI has to offer."

"Maybe I'm missing something here." Myers leaned forward.
"You need Scully to get to Mulder?" he asked.

"Something like that."

"The CDC is a federal agency.  Mulder is a federal
investigator.  Use your own influence, Assistant Director.  You
don't need mine."

"The CDC prefers that the Bureau remain uninvolved."

"Dr. Scully deserves better than to be used as a pawn,"
Myers stated coldly.

"We're all pawns, Dr. Myers. Players in a highly dangerous
game.  Scully knew that when she accepted her job."

"You should know better than to debate the meaning of
informed consent when speaking to a doctor."

"Perhaps I'm going around this the wrong way," Scott's voice
softened.  She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.
She watched the man's eyes glide up her body.  His black eyes
flickered with a danger she had not only come to recognize, but
appreciate.  His insolence was as attractive as his appearance.
Dark hair, muscular arms, perfect white teeth that flashed when
he grinned.  She had been in a position of power too long, she
thought.  She was too easily intrigued by a man who's haughty
attitude tempted her to more than a challenge of words.

*****

That night, Scully had a difficult time falling asleep.  It
didn't help that Mulder was crunching on sunflower seeds as he
sat propped up against pillows watching late night television.
His annoying habits, once vaguely tolerable, now grated on her so
intensely that her teeth clenched.  While her body was fatigued,
her mind was still awake, racing with an speed that stifled
sleep.  He was not only depriving her of silence and darkness
necessary for her to relax, he was acting like a petulant child.
Pouting, provoking her at every turn.

She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to draw the blanket
over her shoulder.  The majority of the covers were caught under
his weight.  When she tugged at one end of the blanket, he
shifted his leg slightly to give her just a sliver more.

The last of her patience was obliterated by the crack of
another sunflower seed against his teeth.

When she rolled over to confront him, Mulder hoped that his
ceaseless battering at the steel door of her mind was finally
over.  He had been prodding her all afternoon.  At first, out of
hurt and rejection.  Then, out of recognition that she was in
trouble.  She was withdrawing into herself.  Scrutinizing her
participation in a program that had literally blown up in her
face.  He knew her well enough to comprehend that the real danger
was the type she was capable of inflicting upon herself.  She was
sinking fast, not into a pool of self-pity, but of self-
condemnation.

Her tepid eyes narrowed in on him.  He tensed, waiting for
what he believed would be an onslaught of berating, multi-
syllabled words.  Instead, she reached out and grabbed the bag of
sunflower seeds from his lap. Before he could protest, she jumped
out of the bed.  Stalking over to the motel room door, she opened
it wide enough to throw the bag out into the parking lot.

Stunned, Mulder gaped at her.

She slammed the door, locked it and turned around.  The
expression she gave him was not smug. It was so agitated that he
was instantly filled with contrition.

This was not the way, he thought.  He would have to find a
better one.

"Come back to bed," he said in a soft, coaxing tone.  He
turned off the television and lifted the blanket as a peace
offering.

"Don't even think..." Scully warned, misinterpreting his
gesture of tenderness for something else.

"I'm not," he assured her.

When she eased back down onto the bed, he carefully wrapped
his arms around her.  She felt his fingers begin to trace slow
circles through her hair, smoothing it back from her ear.  Her
strain began to ease. She was reminded that not all of his
incessant actions was aggravating.  This one was comforting.
Soothing.

"Try to hold on, Dana," he murmured gently.  "I know you're
having a hard time, but I promise you we're going to make it
through this."

Of course, she would hold on.  She would do it for him.  For
them.  No more star crossed lovers.  They had struggled through a
vacuum of lost time and misperceptions only to be reunited by a
near tragedy.  The revelation of her "ordinary life" had almost
torn their reconciliation apart.  And now, a new threat.  One
created by trauma and guilt.

Mulder continued stroking her hair until her eyes closed and
her breathing became even.  He settled back against the pillow
and stared into the darkness.

"I really do love you, Mulder," came her tiny whisper.

He rolled over to his side and slid his arm around her
waist.

"I love you too..."

Scully drew his arm more snugly around her.  She was
drifting off to sleep.

"Don't let go."

"I'll never let go."

The following day, Assistant Director Scott lifted the
handset to her phone and punched in several numbers with the tip
of her pen.  When a voice answered, she asked,

"Have you found them yet?"

"We located Dr. Scully's car in Pennsylvania.  It's
totaled."

"Took him long enough," the woman pursed her lips and
reached over to her computer.

"They changed cars?"

"They changed cars." confirmed Scott.  She leaned back in
her chair and waited for the information to course over her
screen.  Twining the phone cord around her slender fingers, she
gave Myers his instructions.

Late in the afternoon, Mulder shifted the Bronco in park and
cut the ignition.  He glanced over at Scully who was sound asleep
in the reclined passenger seat.

"Wake up sleepy head," he called out as he gently tapped the
tip of her nose.  She stirred slightly as her head rolled towards
him.  He waited patiently as she drifted awake.  The limpid eyes
gazed up at him.

"Hmm.." she murmured as she shifted up in the seat. "I was
dreaming."

"Good dreams, I hope."

"We were on the dock by the Harbor." She stretched then
continued.  "I almost had you convinced to go sailing with me."

"Oh, yeah, you were definitely dreaming," he chuckled as he
opened the car door.

Scully looked out the passenger window.  What she saw made
her catch her breath.  She got out of the Bronco and stood on the
running board, shielding her eyes against the mid-afternoon sun.
  They had arrived at their destination.  A cabin in the woods.
Tall trees, abundant with deep green leaves, covered it like a
canopy.  A wide porch surrounded the cabin.  Wood steps led down
to a grassy area which sloped down to a pristine, azure lake.

A lake.  It stretched out to the east, fading like a blue
mist, blurring against the forest and hills the bordered the
horizon.

Scully felt tears creep into her eyes.  He had promised
seclusion.  He had hinted that they were going to someplace
remote and peaceful, but she had not expected this.  This was
more than a hideout.  This was a haven....

"You like?" Mulder asked as he came around to the passenger
side of the Bronco.

"I like..." Her voice lifted with a note of pleasure.

Mulder felt a twinge of hope as he reached up and swung her
down to the ground.  Her hands lingered against his shoulders as
her head arched towards the lake.

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Haven't you learned by now that I'm a man of unlimited
resources?" Mulder heckled her.

"Are you also a man of property, Mulder?"

"Hardly," he grinned.  "The cabin belongs to some friends of
mine."

"Friends?"

        "Yes, Scully, I have managed to secure a few friends over
the years."

"You told me once that I was your only friend."

"No, I told you that you were my best friend," he reminded
her.

Her bottom lip began to twitch.  For a moment, Mulder
thought she was going to cry.  Instead, the quivering mouth
turned upwards into a smile.  The first one she had given him in
days.  He felt his spirits lift.  Her smile was like a balm
smoothed over his chafed nerves.  Since they had fled Baltimore,
being with her had been like balancing a tight rope.

By her expression now, he knew that he had reached the other
side.

Scully's ebullient mood continued as they unloaded the
Bronco.  Earlier in the day, they had stopped for supplies and
groceries to stock up what was to be their hideout. In the
supermarket, she had shown little enthusiasm.  But now, she began
to assort the refrigerator of the tiny kitchen with a renewed
interest.

Mulder explained that the caretaker, who lived a mile down
along the shore of the lake, had been contacted by his friends to
prepare the cabin for their arrival.  The electricity had been
turned on.  Plastic coverings that protected the furniture had
been removed and stored neatly in the hall closet.  Windows had
been opened to allow the warm breeze to filter out the musty
smell.  Logs had been piled up by the stone fireplace, for in
this climate, the evenings could still dip down to chilly
temperatures.

"Who exactly are these friends of yours?" Scully wanted to
know.

"They're yours, too," hinted Mulder as he came in with their
suitcases.

Scully shot him a quizzical look as she crossed over to the
bedroom.  Except it wasn't an ordinary bedroom.  It looked more
like a dormitory.  There was no bed, just three cots.  There were
desks cluttered with magazines and papers.  One held a computer.
Another shelved a printer and a paper shredder.

"Lone Gunmen," she whispered, shaking her head.

She should have known.

Mulder deposited their bags in the room.  When he turned to
face her, she pointed to the cots.

"Unless you can specify which one of these is Byers, don't
expect me to sleep on any of them."

The man laughed.  Steering her by the shoulders, he moved
her back into the livingroom.

"The couch pulls out to a double bed," he informed her.  "We
can sleep out here by the fire.  That is, of course, if your
willing to share."

"Well...." she paused and sighed.  "I guess it's alright.
After all, we are best friends."

By the time he finished unpacking, the sun had begun to set.
He found Scully outside the cabin seated on the porch steps that
led to the lake.  Her arms were wrapped around her legs.  Her
chin rested on top of her knees.  Her gaze was intent on the
water which had turned violet in the twilight.  Her eyes were no
longer vacant, but bright with contemplation.  As he sat down
beside her, they glided over to his.

"It'll be dark soon," he said, stretching his hand out to
her. "You want to explore the shoreline?"

Scully took his hand.  She turned it over in hers, spreading
his long fingers out, caressing his palm with her delicate touch.

"I'd rather explore you," she responded softly.

She rose to her feet.  With a strength that surprised him,
she pulled him up beside her and led him back into the cabin. As
she lifted his t-shirt over his head, he drew in his breath.  Her
fingertips traveled down the hairline of his chest, lingering on
the waist band of his jeans.  She rose up on tiptoe to press her
lips against his neck.  They trembled against his skin.

Mulder exhaled slowly, his own body quivering with delight
as her mouth trailed the path of her fingers.  When she lowered
herself to her knees and reached for snap of his jeans, he caught
her hands.  Gripping them tightly, he knelt down beside her.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I don't want to be dead anymore," she murmured. "I want to
feel alive.  I want to feel you."

Mulder released her hands.  With one fluid motion, she
stripped off her shirt, and unfastened her bra.  It was all the
encouragement he needed.  With a low groan, his mouth found hers.
Her lips yielded instantly.  Her tongue traced around his with
such deliberate, languid sensuality that he almost stumbled
backwards.  Her hands slid up his back to steady him.

Their eyes met briefly.  His darted over to the rug before
the fireplace.  Hers motioned towards the couch.  Without a word,
they moved over to it.  While he sat down to unlace his boots,
she rested her hands against his shoulders, balancing herself as
she kicked off one sneaker after another.

Scully closed her eyes as he glided her jeans and underwear
down her legs.  The fading sunlight filtered into the cabin,
casting a soft, golden glow against her skin. He no longer
flinched when confronted with the cuts on her arms.  He no longer
noticed the bruises across her legs or the crusted laceration
across her forehead.  In his vision, she was flawless.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, easing her down onto
the couch.

Scully stretched her arm over her head, sighing with the
luxurious delight.  Mulder.  Only Mulder.  His hands were roaming
her now.  Caressing her.  Exploring her.  She had always
suspected that he would be intuitive as a lover, capable of
quickly discerning what pleased her most.  He was a profiler.
One of the best.  It was his job to get under a person's skin, to
delve into their minds and emotions.  And, there was no
forgetting his library of what she glibly referred to as his
"self-help tapes".  That this man was able to draw sensations
that were both tormenting and exhilarating to her was no surprise
at all.

She groaned as her fingers dug into the back of the couch.
He was teasing her now, stopped briefly to allow her to gather a
fragment of control, only to start again.  When her thighs began
to tremble, he shifted over her, pulling her hips up to his.
Giving her what she wanted the most.  The feel of him inside of
her.

This was being alive, she exulted as her legs wrapped around
his back.  Life was meant to be lived.  Love was meant to be
experienced.  She had been given a second chance.  She would not
turn her back on it again.

"Dr. Scully..."

She blinked and gazed up with eyes that were blurred with
tears.

"The Assistant Director is ready to see you now."

Scully stood up and smoothed the wrinkled skirt to the
business suit she wore.  It had been loaned to her by another
operative and was loose around her waist.  The sleeves of the
jacket were too long, giving her an unkept, wasted away
appearance.  Yet, it reflected how she felt.

She was supposed to have been given three months.  Three
months...not three days.  The precious time by the lake was
abruptly cut short with the appearance of Jason Myers the day
after they arrived at the cabin.  A former ally turned henchman
for the CDC.  His new distinction soured in her mind.  He offered
no explanation of how he had found them, just an urgent plea for
her to return to headquarters.  When she had demanded to know
why, he stared at Mulder with his flashing black eyes and
responded cryptically,

"Because there is a duty to be performed."

There was something wrong.  She suspected from the moment of
his arrival. Hours later, as the jet arrived on the landing
strip, she vocalized her concern to Mulder.  His hand reached
over to take hers.

"It'll be alright, Scully."

"We shouldn't have left the cabin."

"If the CDC could find us, then we weren't safe there
anyway."

"Is that the only reason you encouraged me to come here?"

Her question was pointed.  She loathed her own suspicions,
but they lingered in her mind.

"What are you implying, Scully?"  Mulder asked.

"Just pondering the meaning of second chances," she
murmured.

Her hand slipped away from his.

They had been led off to separate quarters to shower and
change.  When she was summoned to report for debriefing, she had
expected to find him waiting for her in the hallway.  But, he
wasn't there.

Where was he?

She was kept waiting in the hallway for what seemed an
unusual length of time.  Time enough to battle uncomfortable
thoughts concerning the meaning of love, of trust and
unconditional acceptance.  Their days together should have been
enough to abate her fear.  What was wrong with her?  Why couldn't
she believe?

As she opened the door and entered the room, she realized
that believing had been her problem all along.

Oh my God, she thought in horror.  It had all been a lie.  A
charade, orchestrated by the mistress of deceit.  For a moment,
she wavered on her feet, recoiling with shock and revulsion.

"Scully..."

Mulder was there.  He rose out of his chair and came to her
side.  She felt him take her arm to steady her.

"I know this must be awkward," offered the Assistant
Director.

"You know it's more than just awkward, Diana," Mulder
snapped as he gently led Scully over to a chair.

Assistant Director D. Scott.  Diana Fowley.  The same
person.  Her contact within the CDC.

Suddenly, all the lies made sense.  The perfect timing of
her enlistment into the Program.  The daily encrypted e-mail.
Faceless, voiceless contact with her superior, rationalized by
her as a security measure.  The truth had been expertly concealed
by Fowley and blindly accepted by her.  She had wanted to make a
difference.  To feel hope, to move beyond disillusionment and to
step past a partner who she was tired of trailing behind.

Now, she realized the magnitude of her mistake.

Oh my God, Oh my God...

She should speak.  Why couldn't she find her voice?  She
could hear it in her brain.  It screamed over and over what a
fool she had been.  Her lips could not move.  Her mouth was so
dry that even if she could cry out, it would sound no louder than
a whimper.

"Scully..." Mulder lowered himself to one knee by her chair.
Her eyes were vacant, the color of a leaden sky.  They stared
straight ahead, flat and unmoving.

        "Is she alright, Fox?" Fowley started to move around her
desk towards them.

Mulder saw Scully's hands grip the side of her chair.

"It might be better if you give us a few moments alone,"  he
said to Fowley. "Give me a chance to explain what you have told
me."

"Of course," the woman nodded.  She cautiously circumvented
Scully on her way out of the office.

Left alone, Mulder pried her hands loose from the chair.  He
squeezed them tightly in his.

"Dana, look at me," he pleaded.  Her eyes slid down to his.

"I know this is a shock.  Hell, it blew my mind away."
Mulder asserted.  "But, there is an explanation if you're willing
to hear it."

She still said nothing.  Her hands were as cold as ice in
his.

"The scientists who developed the vaccine were not the only
ones who discovered how self-serving their patrons were.  Fowley,
too, realized that she had made a serious mistake."

He took a deep breath and continued.

"Fowley was the one who initiated the contact with the CDC.
She was the one who brought the scientists here."

Scully's eyes flinched.

"She tried to tell me, Scully.  I refused to listen.  I was
convinced that she had betrayed me."

        The woman pulled her hands away from his.  When she tried to
rise from her chair, Mulder stopped her, jerking both she and the
chair towards him.

"Damn it, Scully, listen to me.  Fowley has shown me proof.
Documents that legitimize her involvement.  A commission from
the Director in Atlanta.  She encouraged the CDC to select you as
one of the operatives.  You, Scully.  It wasn't just your science
and background that influenced her choice.  It was your
character, your integrity that made you the perfect choice."

Scully's eyes narrowed in on his.  For a moment, he had the
distinct feeling of being on the wrong end of a shotgun.

"Of all of her lies, that has got to be the most outrageous
one of all," she exploded loudly.

Not only had she found her voice, she continued to vent it
with fury and vocabulary he thought not possible.

"But, what is even more fucking unbelievable is your
pathetic attempt to exonerate her.  That you believe there is
even a fragment of truth to her lies."

"I'm not trying to exonerate her." Mulder started to back
peddle.  "I'm just trying to figure out whether there is a
logical explanation for all of this."

"Don't expect to find it."

"Why?"

"Because you are incapable of using logic when it comes to
this woman."

"For a minute, can you please just push aside that little
green eyed monster of yours and tell me why her explanation is so
impossible?"

"Because Fowley is the infiltrator."

"That doesn't make sense.  Why would she destroy a Program
she helped create?"

"It's called damage control, Mulder.  Think about it.  The
Consortium lost control over their own players.  Their own
scientists.  With them went the vaccine.  What a better way to
curtail the damage then to have Fowley defect with them?"

"She brought them to the CDC.  What a better vehicle to
distribute the vaccine?"

"The CDC is a government agency with its own set of rules
and protocols.  Nothing is done quickly.  Everything is
monitored, scrutinized and evaluated for its efficacy.  As a
result, the process is slowed down."

"Why not stop the process all together?"

"The last time I checked, bombs were designed to do exactly
that."

Mulder shook his head.

"I don't know, Scully. It just doesn't add up.  If what you
say is true, then Fowley has taken an enormous gamble."

"But look at what she stands to gain.  Your Fowley is a
clever player.  With one well planned move she has accomplished
both her professional and personal goals.  Not only has she
crippled the Program, but she has managed to convince you that
she had no involvement in it.  She's playing you Mulder.  As
effectively as she played me."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"She used me, Mulder.  She recognized my insecurities,
knowing I would pounce on any opportunity to find meaning in a
situation that had grown hopeless.  She found the way to separate
us.  She removed me from the equation and cleared the path back
to you."

"You're wrong, Scully.  Remember, I was also cut out of the
equation."

"I don't think she ever intended to cut you out
indefinitely. Just long enough for your craving to grow so great
that you would devour the next breadcrumb, even if it fell from
her hand."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"You tell me, Mulder.  We're here because of you.  What does
she want?"

"She wants me to flesh out the infiltrator,"  Mulder advised
her.

"I'm sure flesh is exactly what she has in mind," scoffed
Scully.  "Yours and hers.  Did you agree, Mulder?"

"I haven't agreed to anything."

"But, you're thinking about it." The woman pushed him away
and rose to her feet.  "What is about her, Mulder, that makes you
abandon your common sense?  Is it because you believe she is the
one capable of satiating all your appetites?"

His eyes suddenly flashed with anger.

"Jesus, Scully.  That was vicious."

"Vicious?" Scully's voice reverberated with indignation.
"You stand before me now, debating which one of us you should
believe, and you dare call me vicious?"

"What I'm debating..." he retorted in an icy voice.  "is how
I can stop all of this."

"You can't."

"I have to."

"Then do it alone." Scully spun on her heel and headed
towards the door.

"Don't do this, Scully."

He followed her.  As she opened the door, he reached over
her shoulder and slammed it shut.  Whirling her around to face
him, he pleaded,

"Don't run out on me when I need you the most."

"You don't what the word means."

"You couldn't be more wrong,"  Mulder whispered urgently as
he pressed his forehead against hers.  "I will always need you.
I will always love the woman that you are.  But, right now, I
really could use my former partner back."

Scully jerked away, her back freezing against the door.

"Look at me," she hissed.  His eyes shot up to hers.  With
one eyes, she directed his gaze to the truth.  He swallowed
hesitantly and nodded.

"True lies, Mulder.  For a lie to be convincing there must
be an element of truth."

Scully reached up to the lapel of her jacket and removed her
CDC identification card.  She placed it into his hand, turning it
so that her access code was exposed.  Without another word, she
left him.

Later that night, Fowley knocked on the door to Mulder's
quarters.  When he didn't answer, she let herself in.  She found
him lying fully dressed on his cot, staring blankly up at the
ceiling.  He refused to look at her, stating coldly,

"Is she gone?"

"Yes," Diana said softly.  "I had Dr. Myers take her back to
Baltimore."

"Baltimore?" Mulder sat up in agitation.  "Are you out of
your mind, Diana?  She's not safe there."

"It's her home, Fox.  It's where she wanted to go."  Fowley
tried to calm him.  "She'll be safe.  We'll make sure of it."

"You're the one with the connections, Diana."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he collapsed back on the bed.  "Get out, Diana.
You're the last person I want to see right now."

"Get some sleep.  Things will look brighter in the morning."
Fowley moved towards the door.  She smiled to herself.  Had he
reacted any other way she would have been suspicious.  His
aversion to her did not sting.  It filled her with hope.

*****

"The trouble you two manage to get yourselves into," Walter
Skinner said as he removed his glasses and wiped the perspiration
from his forehead.

"I'm not the one who is in trouble now, sir," Scully
reminded him.  "Agent Mulder is."

"Let me get this straight," said the Assistant Director as
he reviewed her report.  "For over a year, you've been posing as
an operative for the CDC in an effort to distribute the vaccine
to the alien virus."

"That is correct."

"And, Agent Fowley, the person who initiated the program is
the same person who had been trying to compromise it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?" Skinner asked.

"We now believe that the hospital bombings were a smoke
screen, a way to deflect attention away from the real objective."

"Which is what?"

"To replace the vaccine with the virus itself.  To initiate
the first phase of invasion."

"And do you have proof of this?"

Scully's eyes traveled over to the man sitting next to her.

"That would be me," Jason Myers advised.

"Dr. Myers," Skinner acknowledged him.  "I'm all ears."

"Not to play on words, but so am I."

"What do you mean?"

"Diana Fowley talks in her sleep"

"Excuse me?"

"She talks in her sleep...sir."

Skinner gave them both a look of disbelief.

"That's your proof?" he asked in an incredulous voice.

"Hey," exclaimed Myers.  "I went to great pains to learn
that woman's true motives."

The Assistant Director frowned at the doctor.  Scully sighed
and leaned forward in her chair.

"Sir, Agent Mulder is right now attempting to obtain more
concrete proof.  But, as a former operative, I have the
capability of speeding the process up."

"To do what exactly?"

"To deal the Bureau back into the game."

*****

Out in the hallway, Myers leaned against the wall with his
arms folded comfortably.  He watched Scully pace back and forth,
noting with amusement how her four inch heels clicked along the
floor.

"A masterful performance," he heckled her.  She stopped in
front of him.

"That was no performance," she conveyed.  "That was a
pitiful and most likely unconvincing cry for help."

"I'm not talking about Skinner," responded the doctor.  "I'm
referring to the little drama you and Mulder created yesterday at
the CDC."

"Are those ears of yours really that sharp?"

"Come on spy girl.  Don't they teach you in your line of
work that the walls have ears?"

"And, eyes, or in this case... cameras." Scully lifted her
eyebrows.  "Jason, you never cease to amaze me.  You really are
good at the game, aren't you."

"Dana," Myers gave her his classic swashbuckler grin. "When
are you going to learn that I'm good at everything I do?"

Suddenly, Myers black eyes darted past her shoulder.  She
turned to find Skinner approaching her.

"Okay, Scully.  Time to saddle up.  You've got yourself a
task force."

*****

The FBI task force descended over the mountains of West
Virginia like locust, a swarm of black helicopters which were
camouflaged against the night sky.  They arrived in the pre-dawn
hours when most of the Program's personnel were off duty and
asleep.  The facility had been strategically designed.  Access
could only be gained through the network of tunnels.  Once the
guards outside had been stripped of their weapons and detained,
the task force began their descent to the underground facility.
Wearing protective equipment, their weapons drawn, they weaved
through the maze of the tunnels.

Scully was dressed in all black, her bright auburn hair
tucked tightly into a cap.  Her gloved hand motioned the team
forward.  They crept down the hall of the barracks, silently
maneuvering past the closed doors of operative's sleeping
quarters.  She paused outside the door where she knew Mulder
slept.  She pointed to the door as Skinner glided up beside her.
The Assistant Director nodded, throwing his hand forward for the
team to proceed.

She carefully turned the knob.  It wasn't locked.  She slid
into the darkened room and noiselessly shut the door.  She moved
towards the opposite side of the room where his cot was, each
step taken with deliberate caution.  She did not want to startle
him.  Her eyes strained through the dim shadows. She leaned
forward to whisper his name.

Suddenly, she was seized from behind.  A heavy hand clamped
over her mouth as she was dragged away from the cot.  She twisted
around in her assailant's grasp, thrusting her gun between them.
She gasped for breath when the hand shifted from her mouth to
her neck.  Despite the threat of his grip, Mulder's touch was too
distinct to go unrecognized.

"Mulder," she choked.  "It's me."

Mulder's hand rose up the side of her face.  His fingers
ripped off her cap and sunk into her hair.

"Scully..."  The feel of his breath was hot and urgent
against her cheek.  His lips sought hers through the darkness.
He tore them open with such force that she went weak at the
knees.  Her hands fell limply at her side.  Before she realized
it, the hold on her gun relaxed.  It clattered to the floor.

A loud siren began to wail through the halls.  Mulder broke
away from her mouth and jerked her away from the door.

"Talk about being caught in the act."

"Skinner is leading a task force.  We're shutting the
Program down.  The threat goes way beyond bombing hospitals."

"I know." He fumbled through the shadows to find his duffel
bag. "How did you find out, Scully?"

"Myers told me."  She lowered herself to the ground,
skimming the floor with her hands.  "Mulder, I dropped my gun."

"How did Myers find out?"

"He..." she stopped and reconsidered her choice of words.
"He inadvertently heard it while...while in compromising
position."

"Are you telling me that Dr. Don Juan had sex with Fowley?"
Mulder asked.

"He said she talks in her sleep," retorted Scully.  "You
figure out the rest."

"I don't have to.  I found the proof we're looking for."
Mulder retrieved the disk from his bag and tucked it into his
jeans.  "I got it, Scully.  The distribution plan for the virus,
disguised as the vaccine."

"And, how did you manage to secure that?"

"Relax, Scully.  The way to the enlightenment doesn't always
lie between a woman's legs." here was a tone of amusement to his
voice.  "Unless, of course, we're talking about yours."

"Mulder...."

"You're not going to shoot me are you?"

"You have to help me find my gun first."

*****

The facility was easily overtaken by the task force.  Too
easily, Mulder remarked, as they stood outside the tunnels while
the personnel were escorted out under armed guard.  All was
secure.  The entire inventory of the vaccine which was suspected
to contain the virus had been located in the shipping bay
awaiting transport.  It was to be taken to the Bureau's labs to
undergo testing to confirm that it had been tainted.

Everything was accounted for, but not everyone.  As dawn
approached, the search for Diana Fowley had come up empty.

"Once again, she's managed to dodge us,"  related Skinner,
handing Fowley's identification badge to Scully.  "I found this
on the desk in her office.  It was already ransacked.  Her
computer was destroyed."

Scully's fingers traced the lettering of the tag.

"A.D. Scott," she mumbled.  "Like you say, sir, the Artful
Dodger."

"I'm beginning to think she was one move ahead of the rest
of us," Mulder mused outloud.

"What do you mean, Agent Mulder?" asked Skinner.

"Doesn't this strike you both as a bit too convenient?" he
asked them.  "It was Scully's access code that enable me to
secure this date.  Why was the code still active?  Why weren't
security measures in place?  Do either one of you believe that
Fowley would be that careless?"

"Maybe she was diverted by a new objective," remarked
Scully, as she folded her arms obstinately.

Mulder frowned at her piqued expression.

"Maybe my accessing the distribution data was her objective
the whole time," he argued.

"The next thing he's going to tell you is that Fowley was
really playing a dual role, both helping and hindering the
Consortium."  scoffed Scully.  "That she was and continues to be
the ideal double agent."

"Sounds good coming from her, doesn't it?" observed Mulder
as he nodded his head towards the woman.

"Works for me," the Assistant Director commented dryly.  He
reached out to take the disc that Mulder offered him.  "This game
is far too complicated to worry about the motives, or double
motives of each player, Scully.  I say we gather our winnings and
go home."

Scully's mouth dropped open as the man turned away.  Mulder
leaned over to her ear and whispered,

"Close your mouth, Scully.  We're still on duty.  Now's not
the time for me to slip you the tongue."

"Shut up, Mulder," she growled.  She stalked towards the
field to where the helicopters were waiting.

"You said it yourself," he called after her.  "True lies,
remember?  That for a lie to be convincing it had to contain
elements of the truth."

Scully suddenly stopped in her steps causing Mulder to
collide against her.

"What is your definition of the truth these days, Mulder?"

"That it begins and ends with you."

"Nice save," she smirked.  His hands skimmed up her arms to
her shoulders.  He turned her towards the East, to where the sky
was a glistening mauve as the sun rose over the mountains.

"Look, Scully.  A new day promising a fresh start.  Rather
then get bogged down with trying to figure out if the bad guys
are really good guys posing as bad guys, I say we take Skinner's
advice."

"The part about gathering up our winnings?"

"The part about going home."

*****

Weeks later, Scully was in the kitchen of her townhouse in
Baltimore.  She had just finished seasoning the basil and lemon
chicken that was to be grilled for dinner and was assembling a
salad.  When her cellular phone rang, she reached across the
counter for it, balancing it between her shoulder and ear so her
hands might continue their work.

"Scully.." she answered crisply.  The days of a simple
"hello" were gone.  Her days of a medical resident and operative
for the CDC were over.  She had been reinstated to the Bureau.
Reassigned with her partner to monitor the Project as it began
again.  With new players, new rules and two federal agents to
monitor each movement.  Or, as Mulder put it, to ensure that the
bad guys, posing as good guys, pretending to be bad guys were
banned from the game altogether.

"Ahoy, mariner's daughter," the voice on the other end of
the phone greeted her.

"Mulder, where are you?" she asked as she drizzled a bottle
of balsamic vinegar over the salad.

"Closer than you think,"  he hinted.

"I hope its closer than that," Scully paused as she crumbled
fresh croutons over the bowl.  "Mulder, you do like croutons,
don't you?"

"You know me, Scully.  My craving is so great that I'll
devour any breadcrumb, especially if it happens to fall from your
hand."

What a wise ass, she thought.

"Hey, what's the wine selection this evening?" Mulder
directed her attention back to safer ground.

"How does White Zinfadel sound?"

"How does a glass shared down by the docks sound?"

"How close are you?" she smiled, rinsing her hands in the
sink.

"About twenty yards due east."  He hinted before he hung up.

Drying her hands, she peered outside the kitchen window.  If
he was on the docks, she couldn't see him.  She slipped on her
sandals and reached for the bottle of wine.

When she reached the end of the dock, Scully circled around
in confusion.  He wasn't there.  Believing she must have
misunderstood, she turned to leave.  It was at that moment that
she heard his voice.

"I think the path to enlightenment actually begins with a
woman's legs."

Her eyes darted down to the harbor.  He was lounging
comfortably in the back of a small sailboat.  He gazed up at her
bare legs, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief.  He grinned as
her eyes widened in surprise.

A sailboat.  He had gone and done it.  Only a week ago, he
had suggested that they buy one.  She had discouraged him,
reminding him that their federal salaries couldn't support the
expense of a boat and docking fees.

"Mulder..." she tried to sound stern, but her misgiving was
melting into delight.  The sailboat was stunning.  Perfect.  She
exhaled slowly and kneeled down to take a closer look.

"You like?" He reached up and took the bottle of wine and
glasses from her hands.

"I like..." She studied him a moment. "Wait a minute.  I
thought you flew to Atlanta this morning to meet with Myers."

"Actually, he flew up here to meet with me.  We spent the
morning sailboat shopping."

"Myers..." observed Scully, shaking her head.  Assistant
Director Myers.  The Program's new coordinator.  A man of dark,
impenetrable resolve.  Capable of influencing others, including
Mulder, into decisions they would not have ordinarily made.

"I'm almost afraid to ask how much this cost," she remarked,
swinging her legs over the side of the dock.

"Just a suitcase full of money," Mulder's hands circled her
waist as he lifted her down into the boat.

"I thought that was to be our security measure."

"Scully, we are the security."

"Mulder, this is crazy.  It's irresponsible...it's..." She
paused as her hand glided along the mast.  "It's really
beautiful."

Mulder grinned.

"Myers said you'd cave when you saw it."

"That man really is a pirate.  Capable of manipulating... of
sacking people's resolve."

"He did managed to coerce me."

"And, how did he manage to do that, Mulder?"

"With these." responded Mulder as he pulled out a bottle of
pills.  She peered at the label.  Myers had written him a
prescription for Dramamine.

Suddenly, she laughed.  The sound of it was warm and
inviting.  He leaned over to greet her with a kiss.

"Scully..." Mulder lifted his lips from hers.  "There's
still enough sunlight to hoist the sail and explore the harbor
before dinner."

She reached behind her and opened the hatch that led down to
the tiny cabin.  With a gentle tug on his hand and a glimmer of
excitement in her eyes, she lured him to the berth inside.

"I'd rather explore you," she whispered.

Feedback is most graciously accepted.  Please e-mail me at
paigecaldwell@hotmail.com.