(Headers and Disclaimers in Chapter One)

Chapter 15 of 20

From the top of the stairs Mulder could see AD Skinner
pacing outside the door of the courtroom where Scully's hearing
was to be held.

"This is running late.  Where have you been?" Skinner said.

"Bathroom," Mulder said straightening his tie and jacket.

"Upstairs?"

"It's cleaner."

Skinner detected an odor of dusty and mildew.  He opened
the courtroom door for Mulder and said, "You sure?"

The two men sat uncomfortably on the wooden benches for a
long time.  Skinner grew restless.  Mulder was miles away.  He
would see her again today, talk with her, hear her voice.  He
sighed impatiently and appeared to scan the room in boredom.  It
was jam-packed. He glanced around, nudged Skinner and they
scoped out the room together.

"What's this?" Skinner said.

"Obviously the news media believes she's going to be
executed today."

Skinner adjusted his glasses and turned in his seat.  "I
accept responsibility for this," he said to Mulder.  "I want you
to know that."

"If I know Scully she had something to say about it," Mulder said.

"You do know Agent Scully and that's exactly why you are
in the dark," Skinner said.

Mulder rubbed his mouth; it spoke his impatience with that more
clearly than words.

"It's a long story," Skinner said.

"I'd like to hear it sometime," Mulder said.  "Soon."

Skinner stared at him and, after a moment, nodded slightly.
Mulder crossed his legs and tried to think of seeing
Scully again.  Soon.

Skinner shifted in his seat.  "This is running late," he
said again.

Mulder studied the great seal over the bench with some
interest.

Skinner got up and walked out the door of the courtroom.
Mulder sat quietly, no expression on his face, his hands resting
in his lap.  His feet, however, moved up and down on the balls
and back on the heels.  After a few moments Skinner hurried in,
leaned down and whispered to Mulder, "She escaped.  They're
searching the building.  They've searched her lawyer's car.  The
building is sealed."

Adrenaline rushed to Mulder's arms and legs, but he forced
himself to be casual.  "No need to stick around here, then, is
there?"

Skinner grabbed Mulder's arm and fairly hissed, "They will
shoot her.  They are within their rights to shoot."

"I'm sure she thought of that," Mulder said.

It took four hours for Mulder and Skinner to clear the
building.  Everyone and everything was subject to search.  Mulder
counted two dozen uniforms and an unknown number of agents.  Both
he and Skinner were questioned, although there could be no doubt
they were both in the courtroom long before the escape.

Mulder drove home cautiously, very aware that he was being
followed.  A block from the court he pulled out his phone and
punched in her number, hoping - no, knowing - he would hear her
voice soon.  He heard only a dozen rings.

Mulder slammed the phone shut, tossed it on the empty seat
beside him and rubbed his mouth.  Good thing traffic was light.
He waited for his chance, made an illegal left turn and headed
for Scully's apartment.

No sign of her.  He drove home.  The Gunmen were waiting.
They looked like whipped dogs.

"She jumped out of the garbage truck somewhere along the way,"
Langly said.

"You didn't see her, didn't notice?" He yelled.  He didn't care that
the three men in front of him seemed miserable enough.  What if his
instincts about this escape were wrong-he couldn't bear to think about it.

"She took the little duffel bag," Frohike volunteered.

"I feel much better knowing she has clean underwear," Mulder
said.  

"Agent Mulder, did it occur to you that Agent Scully might
not be, exactly, prepared for this escape," said Byers.

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"That the same physical and mental stresses of the mind meld she's
been subjected to might have-" Byers didn't want to be the one to say
it "- might have had a permanent effect."

Byers may have said it, but Mulder had clearly thought of it already.
Mulder's phone buzzed and he fumbled in his haste to answer.  "Yes,
he's here." He thrust the phone at Byers and listened to him say
"yes, uh, huh, huh-huh, okay.  Thanks."

When he handed the phone back Byers said, "That was Bryon
Waters.  He said Agent Scully seemed very distracted, ill, and a
little hostile when he saw her last.  He also said Henry
Donaldson was alone with her when he came into the conference
room."

"That's a violation of her civil rights," said Frohike.

"He's the one who's been playing with Scully's head from
the beginning," Mulder said.  "He laid the foundation and now
he's building on it."

"Who knows what he's done to her.  That is one seriously
screwed up dude," Langly said.  "We may have put our foot in it
this time."

Mulder stayed home three days never leaving the phone.
Call, Scully, he pleaded to her.  Call, damnit!
Three long, endless days of worry.  Three days of telling
inquisitive policemen and agents that he didn't know where she
was.  Three days of lying to her mother, reassuring her that
Scully was safe.  Three days of berating himself for arranging
her escape.  Three days of racking his brain for places she might
go, then charging out to discover she hadn't shown.

Three longer nights.  He slept - when he dozed - with his
cell phone in his hand.

He was fixing coffee on the morning of the fourth day when
he suddenly knew where to find her.  He could have kicked himself
for being an idiot -- and her for scaring him to death.
************************
Scully unlocked the door, stepped into the apartment and knew
she wasn't alone.  She saw it at once - the overstuffed chair
angled slightly wrong, a table lamp that seemed just a fraction
of an inch too far to the right.

She began to back out of the door slowly, the grocery bag still in
her arms.

"Don't make me run you down."

She froze.

Mulder appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and
living room.  He leaned onto the door frame, the muscles in his
arms tensed from holding his weight and his jaw clenched tight.
The sun from the kitchen window shone at his back through his
white shirt and his tie hung loosely around his neck in a noose.
Scully couldn't recall seeing him so furious.

"Come on in."

She shut the door and set the groceries down on the hall
table along with the apartment key.  He didn't move, but his eyes
raking over her made her strangely self-conscious.  She touched a
stray end of her hair.  She never liked her own hair color much,
but now that it was covered with a black rinse she felt
unnatural.

Mulder snorted.  "This place stinks.  The bureau couldn't do
any better than hot and cold running rats?"

"Did you come to criticize the accommodations -- or take
me back?"

His mouth went slack, then closed in a determined line.
Panic fused his arms and legs with the strength he didn't think
he could have found otherwise.  Mulder covered the distance
between them in four or five quick strides.  She stiffened, but
refused to move.  He wore an impassive expression until he stood
within an inch of her.  He stopped and leaned down as if
confiding a secret.

"Scully, they've done something to you...and you-you aren't
seeing things as they are...mentally.." His face was that of a
tortured angel.

"I was," she said, nodding.  "You're right.  I was...and you
talked me through it."

Mulder knew they hadn't spoken in weeks. "This was a mistake.  
You understand you could get killed.  I made a mistake."

"Actually, I thought it demonstrated good insight." She needed him to
see beyond his fears, beyond his wounded pride, and her
deception.  Of all the things she worried about, she most feared
his need to protect her.  She couldn't let him take her and she
didn't know how to stop him.

"Please understand," he said.  He put his hand on her the
way he would a suspect.

"Mulder, all those times you asked me to believe you, to
follow you on nothing more than faith... You have every reason to
doubt.  I'm asking that same blind faith of you now."

Mulder wavered.  He had come to take her, to hold her
against her will if necessary, to make certain she wouldn't be
hurt until he could straighten things out.  He hadn't considered
that she would be one step ahead of him.  Again.  Arrogance on his
part.

"I'm fine," she said evenly.  "For the first time in a long time..."

He took a moment to study her.  This Scully had a different
lilt to her chin, a customary glint in her eyes that marked her
as the hunter instead of the hunted.  Her carriage was familiar;
her hands steady again.  He felt ashamed; he'd almost put her in
restraints.

"I-it's the hair," he said and dropped his hands.  "Had me
fooled."

The breath whooshed out of her mouth.  "I think it's
Frohike's fantasy color of the month," she said.  She sat down on
the armchair, her knees suddenly weak.  "I thought for a minute
you weren't going to believe me."

He fought the urge to put his arms around her and draw her
next to him.  It made him appear fierce, almost angry.

"How did you find me?"

"It occurred to me to try the obvious.  Our FBI
undercover identities, safe house," Mulder said.

"I knew you'd come to that eventually," she said.

"You scared the hell out of me.  Mind telling me what
you're doing?"

"It was instinct.  I took the chance you offered.  I
followed Langly through the maintenance room and crawled behind
him down the garbage chute - and let me say that is an
experience I don't want to repeat.  I waited until the Gunmen
stopped at what seemed like a great distance from the
courthouse.  It was relatively simple to-"

"I figured the rest," Mulder said.

"I know it - all of it.  Some of it is still unclear, but I
thought talking with you might clear it up.  The problem is, I
can't prove any of it.  It's too improbable to believe.  The
prison, the women and how they are used- the power." Scully
said.  She knew she was talking too fast.  "You were right.  The
robberies and prison are all related."

"I know," he said.

"How?"

"That was the only possible explanation for what happened
to Andy Paige.  And there was a case in Los Angeles - you didn't
get to see that one.  I interviewed the men convicted in the
theft - two young night clerks who simply walked a $1.2 million
watercolor out of an art gallery and left it in the alley behind
a post office.  They told basically the same story you and Andy
do.  Sickness.  Violence.  Memory loss."

"Who's doing this?" she said.

"Don't you know?"

She appeared to concentrate.  "I know Zelda and Bernice
carry out the robberies.  They assume the identity -- the person
-- of guards, clerks or any man with easy access to the asset
they wish to steal.  They take what they want, then leave it
outside for an accomplice to pick up," Scully said.  "The police
don't search for other suspects since they have one or two right
in front of them who are clearly guilty."

"Women do this to men--only men?"

"Not exclusively, but it's easier for women to enter the mind of men.  It
requires no physical contact, there is--"

Mulder couldn't resist.  "Not much fun."

"Apparently the key to the success of what you call mind
meld is interrupting brain patterns.  Since estrogen release is a
key factor in "fertilizing" the neutrons that fire-."

"So women get inside the head of men and take over.  This
is almost a cliché, Scully."

"Bernice bumped into you in the hallway outside the
conference room after our first visit."

"That's right.  I don't remember slipping-"

"And afterwards you were sick?"

He shrugged.  "Bad burrito."

"Sad? Poetic? Sentimental, even weepy?"

"Bad burrito."

"Mulder, not every unsettling experience in life can be
attributed to refried beans."

"Most things," he said.

"Bernice saw things in you-"

"Those weren't my thoughts, Scully.  I found just them
there," he said.

"You knew nothing to change their opinion of me as just
another felon.  Anyone who came to visit me was under suspicion.
Everyone at first."  She hesitated.  He could sense the pain she
would not show him.  "After.. afterwards --they weren't afraid
of me."

"How did they get to you?"  But he didn't really want to
know and she obviously didn't want to tell him.

But she said, "Not just me.  Several other women, including Ann Millard.
They must have trapped her and discovered she was there to
expose them.  They must have driven her to jump over the railing."

"Can they reach you now?"

"There are barriers, techniques to block intrusion.  Mental
self-defense if you will.  Zelda taught me a few.  Just in time,
as it turned out.  I've been trying to recall who..."

She'd lost him.  His eyes bore into hers in an uncomfortable, penetrating
way. He was mad, yes, but she saw sorrow behind it all.  "Mulder?"

It was startling because he said it as though he could
barely stop himself from slamming his fist into a wall,  "Why didn't 
you tell me where you were?" He threw up his hands and his voice became
even louder and angrier.  "No! Let me say it! You were protecting me."

His fury drew the heat from Scully. "I was protecting myself."

"From?"

She didn't say anything at first.  She spent a few moments
examining her fingers as they ducked in and out of each other.

Finally, she said, "I needed to feel.. like myself."

Mulder knitted his eyebrows and his hands flew to his hips in
impatience.  "Which is how?"

"Normal."

"Normal?"

"Mulder, this mind meld technique involves the stimulation
of estrogen as a enhancer.  Research in the late 1980s discovered
that estrogen affects mental capacity, intellectual skills - and
some researchers are following this path now in hopes of
treating Alzheimer's.."

"You're smarter than me because you're a girl? And...?"

"My hypothesis is that in this mind-meld, stimulation of
estrogen, ah, disrupts normal body processes and results in
firing neurons, specifically those in the hypothalamus, that are
not normally called upon.  In women this is expressed in the body
as testosterone.  This creates a chemical imbalance of estrogen-
producing neurons vis-à-vis the ones which produce or require
testosterone.  This imbalance is, thankfully, self-correcting
over time through a surge of, ah, estrogen as well as - well,
that explains why there is extreme violence or hostility in a
female victim immediately after an intrusion and it explains the
sickness, particularly in an unwilling host-"

"-or hostess-"

"-Or hostess.  Such imbalances escalate with each incident
and take longer to reverse.  There is a surge of estrogen, which
apparently activates..." She licked her upper lip and ventured a
glance.  "..certain other reactions as well."

Mulder's anger dribbled away.  He stared at her in bewilderment and 
took a minute to process what she said. 

He was being deliberately obtuse, Scully thought.
Gorgeous, sexy, and definitely, deliberately obtuse.  She shifted
her weight to her other foot and cleared her throat.

Finally he started a slow, sultry grin. "Are you trying to say this
thing leaves you horny and you were afraid you'd force yourself
on me?"

Her cheeks flamed and she made a visual circle of the
room.  "Something like that."

Mulder bit his lip to keep from laughing at her discomfort.  He
leaned down and whispered, "What makes you think you'd have to use
force, Agent Scully?"

Scully gave a feeble, embarrassed chuckle.

He took her right elbow, noting a wince, and guided her to
the couch.  He sought a comfortable place amid the worn out
cushions, finally gave up and just sat down.  She perched on the
edge beside him.

"It's all for a purpose, Mulder.  Revenge.  Greed, power,
these out of body experiences that.."

"You say that like you're surprised."

"I said I owed you an apology."

He shrugged.  "You were hardly in a position to make a
rational judgment.  Do you remember that Donaldson visited you a
few days ago?  What does he want from you?"

"I have a vague notion.  My memory comes back in fits and
starts."

"You know he is capable of mind-meld.  That's what he has
done to you."

"I can't recall hearing of a man who can do this.  The only
case I remember is Zelda's husband, who died as a result."

"Here's another interesting coincidence," Mulder said.

"Henry J.  Donaldson used to be head of the securities and fraud
task force -- the one that arrested Bernice."

"Donaldson has a lot of connections to the two women involved in
this," Scully folded her arms in front of her.  "I don't believe in
coincidence."

Mulder chuckled.  "You believe in Divine Intervention?"

A pop exploded in Scully's head.  She saw 
Donaldson bent over the conference room table, heard him chanting 
her name.

"He doesn't want me to remember! He doesn't want this
charade to end yet." She hesitated.  "I think I'm supposed to
stop the next robbery."

Mulder seemed disappointed.  "I wanted him to be the man
behind all this -- or at least the accomplice.  But he has no
discernible motive - he's independently wealthy, has a
prestigious job, nice family, good reputation -- somehow I don't
think he's a criminal."

"I don't either, although I would actually pay money to
make it true," Scully said.  "No, he wants the robberies to stop,
to expose Zelda and Bernice."

Mulder's lips pursed.  "Done.  I got your email.  I presume
you informed him of all the particulars too.  So why aren't we popping 
beer and peanuts to celebrate your release?"

Now it was her turn to shrug.  "I don't know."

"So this is an undercover operation?"

"Essentially.  Yes -- I don't know."

"Don't know?"

Scully made a strangled sound in the back of her throat.
"I just feel this is my-my job.  To stop it all.  Whether
Donaldson began it and I allowed it -- this is why I went to
prison."

"A mission from God.  All you need are sunglasses and a
blue suit."

She glared at him.

"Say you're right.  That would explain why you were
convicted so fast and so easily.  It's an X-File, so that
explains why it came to you.  And the ability of these women
would even explain why your memory of any undercover operation
was wiped clean by drugs or some hypnosis," he said.  "It would
also tell us how that hypnosis worked --you cooperated.  At least
in the beginning."

"It's not hypnosis.  It's the same sort of mental trickery
Zelda uses," she said.

"Maybe it started as hypnosis... or something like it to weaken your 
mental defenses.  Gradually -- and without Skinner's knowledge --
Donaldson introduced the mild meld to erase your memory and
impair your ability to defend yourself.  He wants to keep you in
that state."

"It makes a certain sense. With Skinner present, Donaldson is someone
I might have trusted enough to-to submit. Ann Millard's murder would have
been a good motivation for that kind of action." She gasped. "Mulder,this 
next robbery needs three women. Three, although it could be done by 
two.  How did he know the next target required three if he didn't pick
it himself?"  She thought about it. "Unless three was the number 
Zelda picked -- to include me, to reduce the danger." 

"The danger to whom?"

Scully shrugged. "To her, Bernice...the men whose bodies they will take
over." She pursed her lips. That sounded right. Zelda needed
a third woman to control the third subject and keep Bernice from killing 
or maiming him to keep him quiet.

"There is another more serious problem," Mulder said.  And he looked
as though it frightened him.  "Think about this a minute, Scully.
It's such an elaborate ruse - falsified documents, signed reports,
judicial manipulation.  A tape of the arrangements, legal
documents to free you, the 302 assignment sheets gone.  Damaged
or missing.  It's too elaborate to justify as merely cementing
your cover."

"Why so much?"

"He doesn't want you to come out of that prison at all -
at least not as a whole, credible person.  And not for a long
time."

Her eyes widened," And maybe he doesn't want to merely
expose Zelda and Bernice, he wants to silence them forever."

"With you a non-factor and the two perpetrators dead or
gone, Donaldson has stopped the robberies, silenced the women,
and eliminated any credible witnesses to this bizarre crime."
Mulder said.

"Skinner--"

"He has an axe to grind.  Thanks to some faulty information
from Donaldson, Skinner's platoon was wiped out."

"My God."

"But this scenario doesn't give us the whole picture."

"It leaves open the question of who concocts the robberies, selects 
targets, picks up the assets?" She shook her head.

"Maybe you know something he doesn't want exposed." Mulder leaned back 
against the couch.  "It can't be something as simple as his aberrant 
lifestyle."

"Aberrant lifestyle?"

"Mr. Donaldson likes to transform himself into a woman and walk with 
a poodle up and down the street to attract men and whistles.  Then he 
or she returns the poodle to a couple in a pet store and comes out as
the Donaldson we know and love," Mulder said.

"A poodle?" Scully laughed.  "You're not serious."

"Well, I don't know what other kind of dog it would be. Looks like one."

She couldn't stop laughing.  She sagged against the couch back next to 
him and they lounged there shoulder to shoulder.  After a while he said, 
"Does that hair stuff wash out easily, because I'm in trouble here.  I 
was expecting a redhead and I'm having a problem relating to someone 
who-" he stumbled, "--isn't."

"I'm not really your partner," she said.  "I was.  But as you can see, 
I've changed." She was uncomfortable with the game all of a sudden.

"I'm glad you're here," he said. "Whoever you are."

She pushed herself off the couch and picked up the groceries she'd
left by the door hours ago.  Scully spent some time putting groceries
away, examining the fruit and vegetables for bruises or signs the
stay outside refrigeration damaged them.

She felt him walk into the kitchen and come up behind her.  She
closed her eyes against the heat of him so close.  Her hand squeezed
the orange it held and studied its tough skin.

"I promised myself that when I had the chance to speak to
you openly and freely again without codes or disguises I would
never take the privilege for granted." She placed the produce in
the refrigerator and shut the door.

"What's stopping you?"

Scully glanced around the kitchen.  She'd cleaned it-cleaned the whole 
apartment from top to bottom.  Washed the linens, scoured the tub, 
burned the scented candle she purchased- all to avoid thinking of this 
very question.  She couldn't say anything.  She looked at him, mouth 
moving like a dying fish. Mulder, pull me out.

He opened his arms and she fell into them nearly groaning with relief.

"Why does this come so easily to you?" she said against his chest.

"Maybe it's too irrational for you to consider."

"No," she said, "for us, for as long as we've been good friends, it is 
the most natural, logical thing in the world."

He pushed her off his chest gently so she couldn't hear his heart break.
"You are my partner, my friend," he said.  "Both of us with many roles 
to play in each other's lives.  Maybe some we haven't explored. Can we 
play cook now.  I'm starved."
********************
Mulder clearly had something in mind besides a vegetation dinner.  He 
picked at his plate.  But it had been so long since Scully had eaten 
fresh vegetables and fruits that weren't old or cooked to death she had 
wanted nothing else for the last four days.  Mulder watched her eat. 
She needed to.  He passed her the butter.  When she was almost finished 
he put down his fork and played with a piece of French bread.

"What I want to know is, why did you agree to do this, Scully?"

"Something I wanted."

"What do you want badly enough to go through hell to get," Mulder said.

She put her fork down and swallowed hard.  She even took a drink of wine 
before she said,  "Zelda keeps asking me that.  What is of value to me?"

"What do you tell her?"  Mulder thought for a moment she might say it.  
He willed her to say it.  He wanted it so much his lips moved for her.

"The X-Files," she said finally.  "I think I value that most, what we 
do - what we do together.  That we do it together."

A slice of bread, doubled over, paused half-way into Mulder's mouth and 
fell back onto his plate.  She was getting there.  Almost there.  "I 
value that too.  And I wouldn't want to miss anything."  He picked up 
his plate and hers, then headed for the kitchen sink.  She couldn't 
see, but he smiled.  "You want the shower first," he asked.

"Yes, thanks." She got up from the table slowly, thinking of what he'd 
said.

She undressed in the bathroom and turned on the spray. Frohike - she 
could see no one else behind this - had included some scented soap, 
a lavender votive candle, and her perfume in the small duffle bag she'd 
pulled out of the garbage with her. Only one change of clothes and 
underwear. But perfume, candles and soap. She washed the skirt and 
blouse and underwear she had just worn, draping them over a towel rack. 
She sighed with fatigue then stepped into the shower.

"I wouldn't want to miss anything." Mulder's phrase resonated within her. 
She soaped her body. Had she missed something?  She spit water out of 
her mouth and allowed more from the spray to fill it. What was she afraid 
she'd missed? Her hands, busy lathering shampoo in her hair, stopped in 
mid-task. The night he came back from training. She missed that -- she 
missed him.