Episode 10x17

This story is based on characters created by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. Characters used without permission. No infringement intended.

TITLE: The Death of Me Yet

AUTHOR: Jo-Ann Lassiter

EMAIL ADDRESS: 70302.3654@compuserve.com

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Post anywhere. Thanks.

SPOILER WARNING: Season 8, only for the reference to Kersh's new title

RATING: R

CLASSIFICATION: S, R

KEY WORDS: Mulder/Scully UST/Romance

SUMMARY: Scully and an ailing Mulder track a killer in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

THANKS: As always, to Gerry.

The Death of Me Yet
by Jo-Ann Lassiter

Teaser
February 5
Deputy Director Kersh's Office
9:16 a.m.

"Mulder, I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes, okay?" Scully paused in the doorway, gently guiding her partner out the door.

At his look of utter befuddlement, Scully had to fight down the almost overwhelming urge to take him in her arms and make him all better. She settled instead for rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades while sending him on his way. "Go on. I'll be right down," she whispered.

Mulder nodded shakily, then turned and walked stiffly away. Scully took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she closed the door behind him, stepping back into the office. She faced the man at the desk.

Kersh wasn't even pretending he hadn't witnessed that touching little scene at the door. "Something, Agent Scully?"

"Yes, sir." Standing tall, Scully squared her shoulders, ready for battle. "Why did you pull Agent Mulder off the X-Files to work on this case?"

Kersh leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I believe I already explained that, Agent."

Scully strode to his desk; she knew enough not to sit unless she was invited. "You said that the Portsmouth office needed a profiler in New Hampshire. What you didn't say is why you're sending Mulder when you've got all the profilers in the ISU at your disposal."

"Two-thirds of whom are out with the flu."

Scully just stared at him. "Sir, Agent Mulder has the flu, too. Yet, you're sending him, and it's not even his *job*."

"Agent Mulder looked perfectly healthy to me," Kersh said, waving her off. "If he's so sick, why was he here?"

"Because he was ordered to be here!"

A long, slow smile grew on Kersh's face, making Scully want to shudder more than she ever had at the sight of any ghost, mutant or Reticulan. "Are you telling me..." Kersh let out a laugh. "...So you're trying to tell me that Agent Mulder, lying in bed with the latest designer flu, got up, got dressed--quite dapperly, I might add--and came in here because he was *ordered* to?" Kersh stared at her, as if actually expecting an answer, then continued without giving her a chance to formulate one. "Forgive me, Agent, but that's bullshit."

Counting to ten under her breath, Scully waited until she was sure steam wouldn't escape from any external orifices before she opened her mouth. "That's exactly what I'm saying." She wondered if Kersh was aware that the soft, controlled tone she'd just utilized was the one that caused Mulder to nearly wet his pants whenever it was directed at him.

Kersh laughed harshly just before he slammed his fist on the desktop. Placing both hands palm down, he raised himself until he was towering over her. "Do you know what, Agent Scully? I don't care. I don't care if it took every last ounce of strength he had to get here; the fact is that he did it. And if he can do that, then he can *damn* well get his ass up to New Hampshire to work on this case."

"Sir, that makes no sense..." Scully felt herself spiraling out of control. "Why didn't you order one of the 'real' profilers out of bed? Why Mulder? He's not--"

"I'm making him useful, Agent. I'm justifying his even being in the Bureau at all. I'm giving him a real case where he can use real skills to find a real killer. And if he wants to keep his job, he'll *do* his job."

Stunned, Scully fell into the nearest chair, protocol be damned. Kersh must have been counting the days to Skinner's vacation so he could pull this stunt. "He can barely stand, sir. How can you expect him to work?"

"Oh, he can work." Kersh smiled again, and Scully felt sick to her stomach at the sight of it. "Agent Mulder's abilities to work while... indisposed... are legendary. That's why I know he can do this." Kersh sat back down, looking much like the cat that ate the canary. "That's why he *will* do this."

"Sir..." Scully leaned forward in her chair, all shows of strength rapidly deserting her. "He really is sick," she said softly. "Isn't there anyone else--"

"No, there is not," Kersh said sharply; then he sighed, and Scully became immediately wary as his face softened into something almost resembling human compassion. "If it makes you feel any better, the Portsmouth people jumped at Mulder's services--and they requested yours, too."

Scully narrowed her eyes, wondering when the hell he was going to tell her this little tidbit of information. After all, she'd been out the door already, only returning to plead Mulder's case. "Mine?"

Kersh nodded. "The local coroner's admitted that he's way out of his league, and they figured that since Mulder's coming and you're his partner..." Kersh looked her in the eye. "Or would you prefer that another pathologist accompany him?"

"No," Scully answered quickly, before he could change his mind. "No. I..." She stood up. "I'll go." Quite aware that she was leaving without being dismissed, Scully strode to the door, opened it and got the hell out of there.

*****

Act I
February 5
FBI Resident Agency
Portsmouth, New Hampshire
8:48 p.m.

"Agent Scully, I'm so sorry. If I had known he was sick--"

The young Supervisory Senior Resident Agent looked beside himself with concern, and Scully wanted to allay his fears that he'd killed a fellow agent. "It's not your fault, Agent Watts," she said, rushing into the conference room where Watts was standing helplessly behind her partner, who lay hunched over the conference table, face down in a river of yellow legal paper. "Do you think you could...?" She smiled weakly at the flustered SSRA.

"Oh. Yes. Yes. Sorry." He started to move away, yielding his position at Mulder's back to Scully. "Is he..." The young man swallowed audibly. "Should I call a doctor?"

Scully shook her head. "I'm a doctor." She laid a hand gently on Mulder's forehead. "He'll be all right."

Watts hesitated a second, his eyes darting to the prone agent. "I didn't know what to do," he stuttered. "He was telling me what he had so far, and he just... bam! No warning, no indication that..." The agent sucked in a breath. "I'll be just outside if you need anything." And he hurried out of the room.

Even as she frowned at the heat her hand encountered, Scully allowed herself a small smile. Watts was okay. Thrilled when she and Mulder arrived, horrified when he took one look at Mulder and discovered how ill her partner was, Scully found the SSRA an intelligent man with a compassionate heart. Instead of dispatching her off to the White Mountains, where the killings took place and the bodies were being held, he had asked her if she'd mind very much waiting until tomorrow and flying up with Mulder. Something about a gas shortage and favorable weather conditions and some other B.S. that he'd conjured up.

Mulder moaned, and Scully gave him her full attention again. "Hey..." She brushed her hand through his hair.

"Scully..." he groaned, raising his head. "Scully, I..." His head fell back to the table. "Scully, please... Please take out your gun and put me out of my misery."

"How is my pistol-whipping you going to make you feel better?" she asked, tugging at his arm until he rose to his feet.

"Funny," he mumbled. "No wonder you went into pathology."

"Come on, Mulder," she said, slipping an arm around his waist. "I'm taking you to the motel and putting you to bed." When she received no indecent comment, not even a leer, Scully knew just how ill her partner felt.

"Scully, I'll give you anything if you'll just let me lie down right here," he whimpered, aiming himself at the table.

"No can do, partner." As she yanked him away from the smooth, polished wood, her hand came into contact with his thigh, and she rubbed it soothingly. "You'll appreciate this in about half an hour."

He froze at her words and stood, staring at her, panic and disbelief on his face.

"What?" she asked.

His face flushed even more than it already was, and he ducked his head. "I can't."

"Can't what?" she asked, pulling him closer to her, snaking a hand under his jacket and around his waist, getting ready to help him out.

"I can't..." He mumbled the rest.

She leaned in closer, trying to see his face. "What? I can't understand you?"

Angry, embarrassed eyes met hers. "I said I can't..." he snapped, then looked away. "I can't make love to you tonight. I don't think I can---"

"Oh, Mulder," she said, sympathetically, finally tumbling to the fact that his mind had gone there after all; she lifted his arm around her shoulders and propelled them toward the door. "I would never proposition you when you weren't well enough to enjoy it."

He angled his drooping head so that he was eye to eye with her.

"Make me better, Scully."

*****

February 6
FBI Field Base of Operations
White Mountain National Forest
Rocky Gorge Campground
11:45 a.m.

Scully snapped off her gloves and tossed them in the hazardous waste bin, looking around at the canvas walls as she strode to the rear of the large tent. Well, it wasn't the worst place in which she'd performed an autopsy, but it certainly ranked in the top five. At least, she reasoned, shivering in the frosty mountain air, there was no need to haul the body back into a refrigeration unit. What the hell kind of a person killed under these conditions anyway?

Gazing down upon the man who might be able to answer that question, Scully hated to wake him. "Mulder," she said, softly, shaking him gently. "Mulder, c'mon. Wake up."

"Wha... Scully? Time to go?" he murmured sleepily, grunting as she helped him to sit up. "Are you done?" He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "God, I feel like shit."

"I know," she said, rubbing her hand up and down his back.

"Find anything?" he asked.

She nodded. "The coroner's reports indicated the cause of death as 'blunt instrument trauma.' While this may be true, there was something done post death which leads me to believe that we're not dealing with your average serial killer."

"What?" he asked, tiredly. She could tell that he was trying his hardest to act interested, but he didn't quite pull it off.

"I noticed a tiny hole just above the ear, so I decided to take a look inside."

At an inarticulate noise from Mulder, she paused, but he waved her on.

"Well, judging from the miniscule amount of matter I found on the skin near the pinhole..." She took a breath. "...I'd have to say your suspect sucked out all of the brain fluid, and a good deal of the brain matter--"

Mulder's hand immediately covered his mouth. "No more. Don't tell me anymore." He struggled to his feet with her aid. "I need fresh air."

Once outside, he gulped in several breaths and looked around. "Is there anyplace warm around here?" He stuffed his hands into his pockets and tried to burrow deeper inside his jacket. "You can give me all the gory details, and I can make a few more refinements to the profile if I can find somewhere to write."

Scully nodded. "The rangers' cabin. Behind the hospital tent. It has real heat and hot water."

"Great," he said, heading in that direction. "Let's make the additions before we head up to the first crime scene." Mulder coughed into his gloved hand, a harsh biting sound that Scully thought had to be hurting his throat.

Scully wanted to tell him to forget about the crime scenes, that he should be in bed, resting, but she knew he couldn't. Not with Kersh breathing down his neck. "Mulder, why are they making you do this?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

Mulder doubled over with a series of hacking coughs before he answered her. "Because they know I can do it," he said, out of breath.

She steadied him, returning his nod of thanks. "That's what Kersh said."

"Ah," Mulder said, trying to suppress another cough. "The fabled iron profiler legend knows no bounds."

"So it's true?" Not that she doubted it, but to hear it confirmed appalled her.

He gave her a sickly smile. "You're witnessing it first-hand."

She pulled him to the edge of the woods when his next bout of coughing unsettled his stomach. Holding him as he vomited up the water and crackers she'd made him consume earlier, she found her thoughts straying to the deputy director.

And what a bastard he was.

*****

February 6
Ranger's Station
12:45 p.m.

"You're kidding, right?" Scully stared at Special Agent Dale Forsberg as she watched a second head sprout up from between the man's shoulders. "You don't seriously expect us to ride in one of those... things."

Forsberg shrugged. "It's the only way to get up there. That, or walk."

Scully planted her feet and shook her head. "Neither of those is acceptable."

"Acceptable or not, Agent Scully, those are your only options."

"We came here by helicopter. Why can't we--"

"It's too thickly wooded up there. There's no place to land, and you don't want to be lowered down in those crosswinds."

Scully was at a loss; she wondered if Mulder would forgo the visits under the circumstances. Then she heard Kersh's voice spewing all that garbage about Mulder's job, and she knew he couldn't.

"Are you sure there's nothing else we could take?" She glanced at her partner, curled up on a cot practically on top of the stove.

Forsberg's face softened, following her gaze; he shook his head. "I'm sorry. You were originally scheduled for the regular four-wheelers, which only seats one, but we thought it might be better if you took the two-seater." The agent reached behind him and picked up three sheets of yellow paper with her partner's handwriting on them. "Agent Mulder's drawn us a pretty good picture already. Does he really have to go up there?"

Scully looked at Forsberg, then back at Mulder. Did he? Again she heard Kersh's voice and again she knew that even if they could get away without visiting the sites, they shouldn't because it would only come back and bite them--bite Mulder--on the ass when they got back to D.C. and it was discovered that they hadn't touched all the bases.

"Where'd you say it was?" she asked, facing Forsberg again.

He walked over to a window, and Scully followed him. "Right there." He pointed to a lean-to in which she could see a group of four-wheeled vehicles, one of which, the two-seater which resembled a mini-jeep, was to be their transportation. "If this was any other winter, you'd be on a snowmobile," Forsberg continued, "but we've gotten hardly any snow this year so you'll have to take the four-wheeler."

"We're going to freeze," she muttered, gazing at the open-air car.

"Uh, they gave us these..." Forsberg produced a bundle of cold-weather gear from thin air. "Snowsuits, gloves, hats, goggles and boots."

Scully took the articles, not even curious as to whom the 'they' might be.

They were going to freeze.

***

Act II
February 6
Somewhere in the White Mountain National Forest
2:25 p.m.

She had to give credit where credit was due. 'They' had actually provided the correct sizes--for both of them. Not only was she attired properly, after half an hour of driving exposed to the frigid mountain air, she was not quite the popsicle she'd thought she'd be.

Mulder, however, wasn't faring so well. As she glanced at him, huddled beneath all the blankets she could wrangle out of Forsberg, she doubted that anything short of a blast furnace could warm her partner.

"How are you doing, Mulder?" she asked.

"Okay," came the muffled reply. "How much longer?"

She glanced quickly at her watch, then at the folded trail map she held pressed between her hand and the steering wheel. "About ten minutes."

The wind caught a pocket of the map and tore it out of her hand; when she made a grab for it, the four-wheeler ran off the trail and nearly smashed into a tree. As she fought to get them back on the trail, she abandoned her hold on the map, and it flew out behind their heads.

Finally getting the vehicle back in control and on the trail again, she skidded them to a stop. She gazed over at her partner, who was dazedly unburrowing himself from his nest. "Look," she panted, "I know you don't feel well, and I'm sorry, but I could really use some help with navigation."

His expression changed rapidly from frightened to confused to shamed, and she immediately felt awful for yelling at him. "Where's the map?" he asked, in a quiet voice.

Scully secured the 4-wheeler and stepped out. She gestured to the woods around them. "I'll... find it. You..." She pointed at him. "... stay here."

Mulder nodded, then reached across and grabbed her arm. "Scully, wait! It's right here."

Following his gaze, Scully snatched the map from where it lay plastered to her seatback by the wind. She smiled at him, getting back in and handing him the map. "Maybe our luck is changing." She caressed his cheek as lovingly as she could in her extra-thick insulated mittens. "Maybe you'll be feeling better soon."

"Maybe," he agreed cautiously, as he gathered the blankets around himself. "Is the wind picking up?" he asked, and she could see him trying to keep a firm grip on the trail map.

"Yeah," she said. "The higher we get, the windier and the colder it's getting."

Scully put the vehicle in gear and sent them bouncing over rocks and branches and tree roots again. Mulder made a sour face and pulled the blankets more securely around himself.

"Peachy," he said.

**

February 6
3:47 p.m.

They were at the third site when Scully realized that their earlier luck had been just as she'd feared: a fluke. Instead of getting better, her partner's condition had worsened to the point where she felt not only concern for his well-being, but for his survival.

"Okay, Mulder, we're almost there." She relaxed the death grip she had on him only for the two seconds it took for her to maneuver him into the four-wheeler. "You with me?" she asked once she had him settled in.

"With you," he wheezed, then broke out into a coughing fit.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the seat beside him, she quickly uncapped it and held it to the lips of the still-coughing man. "Try to drink some water," she told him, tilting the bottle. "Your throat's too dry, and it's making you cough. The last thing you need is oxygen deprivation."

She managed to get some down his throat, and the coughing eased but the wheeze didn't; her partner was literally gasping for air.

"Okay, that's it." She stalked around to the driver's side and got in, starting the engine. "We are getting the hell out of here. Kersh can just kiss my ass."

"Why should... he... have all the fun?"

Shocked to hear him speaking, let alone coherently, let alone alert enough to make a ribald comment, Scully looked at him in wonder. His eyes were closed, his breathing was labored, but he was smiling. "Thank you, God," she said, and Mulder's eyes snapped open. She smiled at the hopeful look on his face. "Feeling better now that you're not running around out there?"

He nodded, then leaned his body into hers and rested his head on her shoulder. "Do me a favor?" he asked in a whisper.

"What?" she answered, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer as she felt him begin to shiver.

He encircled her with the arm that wasn't pressed between their bodies and his head slid off her shoulder and onto her chest. "Scully... Mm..."

"What is it, Mulder?" she asked gently. "What do you need me to do?" Her hand traced soothing circles on his back while she pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

She felt him hugging her with all the strength he had. "Christ, Scully. You're already doing it."

Moving back a little so that she could see his face, she allowed an expression of amusement to come into her eyes. "And here I thought I was doing it for me."

His eyes slid shut, and he snuggled into her. "Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

His voice was breathy when he spoke. "Just wanted to tell you that I love you, and..." He struggled to take a breath. "I..." His arms loosened around her, and his head grew heavy against her. "I'm going to..." His body went totally slack in her arms, and she knew he'd passed out.

She held him for a few minutes, then shifted him so she could buckle him in. Gazing at him with a mixture of sympathy and affection, Scully sighed as she engaged the engine. She positioned the map half under her bottom and started down the mountain.

They hadn't been on the road fifteen minutes when she came upon the moose.

**

February 6
4:08 p.m.

It was a bull moose, and it was big. And it was standing about ten feet away, smack in the middle of the trail. Even if Scully hadn't read the literature on vehicle/moose collisions and the ensuing human fatalities, she would have chosen to avoid something twice her height and weight--jeep and Mulder included.

She slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel sharply to the right, in the only direction that wouldn't get them killed outright. The change in terrain was drastic. Whereas before they'd been traversing the gentle slope of the trail, they now plummeted at breakneck speed down the steep mountainside. Braking did little to stop wheels sliding on dried pine needles and loose pebbles, and when the collision with the birch tree seemed inevitable, Scully let go of the wheel and grabbed onto her partner.

She almost cried when, at the last possible second, the jeep veered off to the side and came to an abrupt stop inside an elder bush. For about five seconds, all Scully did was hold tightly to Mulder and breathe. Then she felt a sharp pain in her side and found that not only was the jeep inside the bush, but the bush was inside the jeep. Those parts of the bush that hadn't been broken off during the crash were poking and prodding every which way above and around them.

Craning her neck to her left, Scully sucked in a breath when she saw the bloodied tip of a broken branch dangling a few inches away. Carefully, she changed position, relieved when the level of pain in her side increased only slightly. At least it was a clean stab wound; if a piece were still in there, she would have felt it.

Ignoring the burning in her side, Scully turned to her partner. He looked relatively intact, at least injury-wise. She was worried, however, that their wild ride down the side of the mountain hadn't produced so much as a peep out of him. She peeled off a mitten and felt his skin, then frantically looked around for a way to get them the hell out of there.

Mulder was burning up. His fever was higher than when they'd started back, and she needed to get him to a medical facility ASAP. But how, dammit? The jeep was literally embedded in the bush.

Judging by their position about a foot off the ground, Scully guessed that they'd been airborne the last second or so. Lucky for them the bush had been there to stop their attempt at finding a really fast way down the mountain.

Almost afraid now to look out the front windshield, Scully gasped when her gaze beyond the brush encountered nothing but blue. She was suddenly grateful that the bush had taken it upon itself to hug them so firmly to its bosom. All the same, they had to get out of there. Even the strongest of branches--and these didn't look particularly strong--could snap, and send them careening to their deaths.

She unbuckled herself and then Mulder. Reaching beneath her, she pulled out the map and tucked it inside a pocket, then tossed any supplies she could get her hands on out the back, onto the ground behind the jeep. She took a breath and looked for the safest direction in which to disembark. With the front of the jeep tilted upward, the rear was nearly sitting on the ground behind them, so the decision was, for once, an easy one. Once she got Mulder into the storage area in the back, he should literally roll right out. The hard part would be getting him there.

There was no way she could lift him out without causing some movement to the jeep; she had to wake him.

"Mulder..." She tapped lightly on his cheek, and when she got no reaction, she pulled his hood away from his head and put her lips to his ear. "Mulder... Come on. I need you to wake up."

He made a sound that was part moan/part whimper, and Scully swore she'd get even with Kersh for this somehow.

"Hey, partner. We're in a little bit of trouble, and I need your help," she told him when his eyelids fluttered.

"Whazzit, Scully? Whassmatter?" he slurred.

"We ran off the road, and we need to get out of the jeep. I'll explain more fully later, but for now I need you to help me, okay?" She hated talking to him like he was a child, but in his half-awake state it was the quickest way to get through to him.

" 'kay, Scully." He nodded clumsily, as his eyes kept drooping closed.

"Good." Scully climbed up onto her seat, then crouched down and held onto the sides of his head with her hands. "I want you to get up on the seat, Mulder. Like me. See?" She waited while he blinked his eyes a few times, trying to focus.

Then his head tilted back, and he looked up at her. His mouth hung open, and he blinked lazily. "I don't know if I can."

Sliding her hands to his shoulders, she leaned forward until she was face-to-face with him. "Sure, you can," she said in her most reassuring voice. "I'll help you. Okay?"

She pulled him up until he was kneeling on the seat, his feet hanging over the edge, his chest flush with the seatback. He laid his head on his folded arms. "I don't feel well, Scully," he said, his voice shaking. "I really don't think I can climb up there."

"Can you try, Mulder? We need to get out of here, and I can't lift you." Spotting his blankets where they'd slid to the floor, Scully retrieved them and lobbed them out the back with the rest of their supplies.

Suddenly, everything spun around her, and she found herself sitting back down, Mulder's anxious face looming above her. "Scully! Scully! What happened? Are you all right?"

" s'okay, Mulder," she said, as the world settled back on its axis around her. "I have a minor injury, and got a little light-headed for a minute."

"You're hurt?"

She saw the alarm in his eyes and patted his cheek. "It's no big deal." She tried not to grimace as she climbed back onto the seat.

He was wide-awake now, she was pleased to see; concern for her well-being had knocked him out of his stupor. She couldn't resist giving him a hug for it. Then she tugged on his arms, trying to pull him up.

"Don't Scully. I can do it." The determination in his statement might have convinced her were it not for the tremor in his voice.

She laid a hand on his arm and spoke to him gently. "Mulder, I'm not hurt that badly. If you need my help, take it."

He seemed to debate the issue, then nodded his head. "Thanks," he said, quietly.

She smiled, then gripped him under his arms. "Ready?"

Giving her a nod, he let her pull him up while he concentrated on getting his feet under him. When he was finally upright, she panted, "Okay. Up and over."

She made a mental note to laugh later at the look of astonishment that came over his face, but for now she just crawled over the seat and gave a yank on his hands. She could only think, "Oh, shit," as Mulder practically soared past her to land heavily in the back of the jeep before tumbling out onto the sloped ground. Scully scrambled out after him as she heard the snap of a branch, and the jeep's front end dropped a couple of inches.

Pulling Mulder clear of the jeep, she watched in horror as the heap of metal finally became too much for the bush, and their only means of transportation trundled down the mountain, quickly disappearing from sight. A loud crash signaled its demise as it made contact with a tree or a rock or God only knew what.

Scully tightened her hold on her partner, unwilling to allow the same fate to come to him. Looking up, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the trail about thirty yards above them. Their flight down the mountain must have only *felt* like miles. Well, at least if they had to hike, it wouldn't be on the treacherous mountain itself but on the mild--in comparison--incline of the trail. Plus, their chances of being rescued were greater on the well-marked, well-traveled trail.

"Scully--" Mulder began, but broke off when he was overcome with a series of coughs. Scully held him and rubbed his back until he calmed, then examined his face. They were a little further down the mountain, so the air wasn't as thin, and Mulder could breathe better, but he looked done in enough just from the flu.

"Mulder, I want us to get up onto the trail," she told him gently. "We need to climb up there." She pointed to the slight clearing behind and above him.

He didn't even look. He just nodded and reached out a hand to her. Slipping his arm around her neck, they made it a couple of feet before Mulder collapsed onto his side.

"Oh, Mulder..." Scully felt so bad for him as he lay panting and sweating in the frosty mountain air. She picked up the blankets and covered him with them. "Maybe we can wait a few minutes."

Again, he just nodded, but there was no mistaking the gratitude in his eyes. Taking a corner of one of the blankets, Scully patted his face dry, then stood up. "I'll be right back," she told him.

She checked the surrounding area for the items she'd salvaged, and recovered everything that was within reach. Forsberg had provided her with a knapsack, and she'd stocked it with water, aspirin, packages of tissues, and an assortment of granola and candy bars she'd bought at the motel's snack area. The jeep had been equipped with a length of rope, spare tire, first aid kit and a walkie-talkie. Scully sighed. With the exception of the first aid kit, which had been within easy reach, she hadn't had a chance to save the other items before they lost the jeep.

She wondered if she should try to get to the jeep; that radio would come in mighty handy now that they were stranded. As she trudged back up to Mulder with her cache of supplies, she decided that the risk was too high that she'd sustain an injury. She also doubted the radio had survived what sounded like a teeth-shattering collision.

Pausing briefly to glance at her partner, Scully carried the knapsack, a couple opened bottles of water and the first aid kit up to the trail. Her side was feeling uncomfortably wet and sticky, and Scully hoped that the bleeding had stopped. Mulder's being sick was bad enough; she didn't need both of them incapacitated.

She paused a moment to catch her breath, then made her way back to Mulder, giving a startled yelp when she lost her footing and started to slide down. She had just started to gain momentum when she felt Mulder's arm snag her around the waist. Grateful though she was for his stopping her, she couldn't hold in her cry of pain as his arm dug into her wound.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I'm sorry," Mulder practically sobbed, but he didn't let her go until they both stopped sliding.

Scully had to wait a few seconds until she could think clearly again, and then she turned around to look at her partner. Tears were in his eyes, and he looked frightened to death.

"Mulder, it's okay. I'm okay."

He nodded his head that he understood, even though the remnants of his anguish remained in his eyes. With a shaky hand, he reached over and gently wiped her face of tears she hadn't realized she'd shed. Scully grasped his hand and kissed his palm, then pressed it to her face. For a few moments, she closed her eyes and let sensation take her over as she let herself feel how much she appreciated having Mulder in her life.

The heat from his hand, however, brought her back to reality damned fast. She opened her eyes to find Mulder gazing at her with what could only be described as loopy contentment. He looked like he was about to pass out but was enjoying himself too much to do so. Well, whatever worked, she thought, suddenly feeling an overpowering need to grin at his expression.

Mulder's eyebrows rose a couple of notches at her smile, and she couldn't resist--she just had to hug him. Mulder reclaimed his hand and hugged her back loosely, mindful of her injury.

Although she truly hated to break their embrace, she needed to capitalize on his temporary fortitude and get him up to the trail. "Mulder, can you walk?" she asked, pulling out of his arms far too easily for her liking. "Can you climb up there with me?"

Nodding, he clambered to his feet. The lightheartedness of a few seconds ago had been replaced by an air of gravity. "Actually, Scully, I think it had better be right now, because in about three minutes I'm going to pass out."

She gave a short nod and jumped to her feet, then doubled over when the wound in her side reminded her that it was there.

Mulder reached out to her, and she took his hand, more to help him than to accept any help he had offered. Still, she found herself relying on his aid as they picked their way up the mountain. About halfway up, they reversed position, and she took the lead as Mulder's strength began to flag.

"Almost there, Mulder. Come on. Just a few more feet." His lips were pressed tight, and she could see him trying desperately not to cough. She felt an adrenaline burst kick in and pulled him the remaining distance.

As soon as she let go of his hand, Mulder fell to his knees and started coughing; he hunched forward, his head resting on his folded arms. Scanning the area, Scully located one of the water bottles and scooped it up. She knelt beside Mulder and gently coaxed him upright; uncapping the bottle, she handed it to him. He suppressed his coughing long enough to take a couple of swallows, and that seemed to do the trick

He gave her a smile of thanks right before he fainted.

**

1989
Quantico, Virginia
10:41 p.m.

"Hey, Mulder..."

Mulder looked up quickly as the door slammed against the wall. His vision darkened momentarily as the room faded from view, then it wavered back in until he could focus on the source of all the noise. Neil Valenti, his immediate supervisor, stood hands on hips, a frown of disapproval on his face. "You got that damned profile done yet? I promised it to the A.D. forty-five minutes ago."

Looking down at the notepads scattered over the table, Mulder reached for one, then checked himself. "Which one was yours?"

"For Christ's sakes, Mulder. The Jacoby case."

"Oh... Right." Mulder picked up a blue file folder and held it out to the agent. "Just finished it a few minutes ago."

Valenti looked peeved. "Then why the hell didn't you bring it to me? You knew I was waiting for it."

Mulder wanted to curl up on top of the table and cry. Or die. At this moment, he didn't care which. He was up to his ears in profiles, all of them "top priority," and he felt like death--most definitely not warmed over. He was too damned cold for that.

"Sorry, Neil. I've got these others to finish, and--"

Valenti snatched the folder out of Mulder's hand. "Yeah, yeah. That's what you always say."

Mulder closed his eyes as Valenti left as brusquely as he came. "Because that's the way it always is," he said to the empty office.

**
February 6
Present Time
8:51 p.m.

"Sorry..." Mulder mumbled in his sleep. "I... finish..."

He moaned, squirming in her arms as though trying to escape from his dream. "Please... just want sleep few hours... Let me..."

When he folded in on himself, and his shoulders started shaking, Scully couldn't stand it any more. "Mulder," she called gently. "Hey, come on. It's only a dream." She touched his arms, and his reaction was immediate, wrapping her in a bear hug and holding on for dear life.

"Mm... Scully. You came. You came to save me."

When he rolled them over, pinning her beneath his body, Scully became mildly alarmed. "Mulder, what are you--"

"I'm so tired, Scully, but they won't let me sleep." His eyes were open, and he was looking at her, but she suspected that Mulder was still a long way away.

Reaching out, she brushed her fingers through his hair. "Who won't let you sleep?"

"Valenti, Rogers, Wattumbi... all of them. Can't sleep. Need to work." His eyes closed. "So tired, though." He turned his head away to cough. "And sick. They won't let me sleep when I'm sick."

Her anger with Kersh flared when she heard that. When she caressed his face, his eyes opened, and he gave her a lazy smile. "But you let me sleep, Scully." His eyes closed again, and he reopened them with an effort. "Did you come to make them let me sleep?"

Her heart went out to him at the hopeful expression in his eyes. "That's right, Mulder. You sleep, and I'll kick their asses if they try to wake you."

Smiling dreamily, he slid off her until only his head lay pillowed in her lap. He looked at her, and she could tell that he had snapped out of his dream. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

She sat up and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Of course it is."

He sighed happily and snuggled in closer, wrapping one arm around her waist. "I wish I had you back then, Scully." He gave her a squeeze. "I'm so grateful I have you now."

Scully gathered all the blankets and covered them both. She slid down, pulling Mulder up until his head was resting just beneath her chin. Kissing the top of his head, she hugged him to her. "As well you should be."

She felt him shake with silent laughter. "Ah, God, but I love you, Scully."

"I know you do, Mulder." She ruffled his hair and settled her cheek atop his head. "Sometimes that's the only thing in this life that I *am* sure of."

**

1989
Quantico, Virginia

"Maybe we should lay off him for awhile. I mean, *look* at him."

Jack Godfried's voice reached Mulder's ears through the crack in the door and even though he was puking up everything he'd ever had to eat, Mulder felt himself flushing with embarrassment. When he could pause enough to take a breath, he stretched an arm out and slammed the door shut.

He wanted to stay where he was forever. He might be sick, it might smell pretty rank in there, but he was alone. He had privacy. And there were no babies dying in there. No kids with their hands chopped off, or their intestines removed or their tiny bodies violated in any other number of unspeakable ways.

Here he needed only to concentrate on one thing: making sure his aim was on target.

An impatient rapping on the door made him cringe. "You almost done in there, Mulder? Some of us are on deadline, you know." It was the despised voice of the recently promoted Neil Valenti, and it gave Mulder an incentive to keep puking.

"Mulder!" Valenti was pounding on the door now, and Mulder wished he'd just shut up and go the hell away.

"For Christ's sakes, Mulder. Can't you do this on your own time?" The voice was right next to him now, and Mulder was so pissed that the jerk couldn't even give him five minutes to be sick that he momentarily rose above his bodily ills to address the man.

"I don't have any of my own fucking time, Neil. You and your co-workers see to that." Mulder indicated the door. "Get the fuck out. And try working on your own damned profile for once. I'm too sick." Mulder turned back to the toilet.

"No fucking way!" Mulder's shoulder was grabbed, and he was jerked upright to face Valenti. "You just get over yourself, Spooky, and get your head back in the game where it belongs."

Mulder pulled out of Valenti's grasp and sank back down to the floor. "I can't. I can't do it any more. I can't eat, I can't think... Hell, I can't even sit up any more." He let himself slide onto the floor. "Lemme sleep, Neil."

"You can sleep later, Mulder. For now, I want--"

"No!" Mulder sat up with the rest of his energy. "It's always 'later.' You or Bill or Frank--" He stopped, frustrated when he couldn't remember the names of the people he worked with every day. "You--all of you--need me every second of every day and every night. For God's sake, Neil, I haven't been to my apartment in days."

"That's not my problem," Valenti said, dismissively.

"It damned well *is* your problem, because I quit." Mulder pushed himself to his feet, anger giving him temporary strength. "I fucking quit."

He tromped out of the bathroom and stalked out the door, nearly colliding with Patterson. Then he pulled out his cell phone, called a cab and got himself admitted to the nearest hospital.

**

February 7
Present Time
6:16 a.m.

Scully's eyes opened and fell on her partner, lying beside her. His restless shifting and his mumbling had awakened her, but since he didn't seem to be in too much distress, she let him sleep while she slipped outside to relieve herself. She thought she'd take care of her wound while she had her clothes undone, but it was too cold and windy, so she hustled back to the blankets and her warm Mulder. Once under the covers, she peeled back the layers of clothing to reveal the injury.

The wound wasn't too deep, but it was oozing pus, so she cleaned it, disinfected it, and slathered on a generous amount of antibiotic cream from the first aid kit. A gauze pad, folded in quarters, and an extra large bandaid were all it took to complete her ministrations. Satisfied with her work, she lay back down by Mulder's side when he began whimpering.

She caught enough of his dream for her to get a better idea of what life had been like for him back in his 'glory' days. Now she had no trouble understanding why he loved their office in the basement. It also gave her more of an insight as to why Mulder often had difficulty working with other agents.

It saddened her to think that he'd been abused so badly by his fellow workers. It angered her to know that he still was--and that she was a willing participant. She wondered how far up the ladder this blatant mistreatment of her partner went. If she had protested Kersh's actions, would anyone have listened?

Mulder came suddenly awake with a cry of surprise, and Scully hastened to comfort him. "Hey, easy there, Mulder. It was just a dream." She rubbed a hand across his back as she spoke in a soothing voice. "You're here with me: Scully."

She felt a rumble against her chest and realized he was laughing. "You are the first person I think of, Scully, and the only one I would care to be stranded with in the mountains in the winter, so it wouldn't have been too much of a stretch for me to guess that the 'me' was you." He lifted his head and smiled at her.

"I take it you're feeling better?" she asked, both amused and annoyed by the smugness in his tone.

"Yes, I feel better. Not much, but a definite improvement over last night." He sighed. "Let me warn you from experience, though--it won't last. I'll be feeling rotten in no time." He pulled gently from her arms and got to his feet. "While we're in the 'eye,' so to speak, should we try to make some headway in getting out of here? Or at least a little further down, where it's not as cold and windy."

She shivered, missing the warmth Mulder had been sharing with her. Nodding, she stood, taking his hand up when he offered it to her. "You're right. It's getting light out, so we should be able to follow the path okay. Hopefully, we'll meet a rescue team before we get too far."

Mulder turned and directed his gaze back up the mountain. "How far from the ranger station do you suppose we are?"

Scully took the map out of her pocket, located their last known position, then found the ranger station. "We're actually not in too bad a position. We're about an hours' driving time away, but we weren't going much over fifteen miles per hour."

"We've gone fifteen miles?" Mulder asked.

"Well, the trail twists and turns and rises and falls..." She stopped. "The elevation for this mountain is only around 4,500 feet. Could we really have covered fifteen miles when it's not even one mile high?"

Mulder nodded. "Easy. These trails are blazed for enjoyment, not for the quickest way up and down."

Scully sighed. "Doesn't anyone ever need to get down in a hurry? What do they do when someone's hurt?" She held up a hand at the question forming on his lips. "I took care of it while you were asleep. It was just beginning to become infected, but I think I headed it off."

Mulder nodded, apparently satisfied. "Is there anything on the map?"

She shook her head. "I already looked. If there is, it's not on this map."

Mulder gave a frustrated grin. "Figures. Nothing could ever go that easy for us." He helped Scully gather up their supplies, hesitating when he came to the four wool blankets.

"It'd probably be easier if you wore them," she offered.

Mulder ducked his head, a sure indication that he'd had the same thought, but would not have voiced it; he didn't want to admit that he craved the extra warmth, a sign that he was feeling better.

"Would you mind sharing them?" She was so happy that he was well enough to put on his brave front that she tried to soften the blow for him. She held out a hand, and he grinned as he shook out two blankets, draping them over her back.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said, spreading the remaining two around himself.

She shook her head, once again having figured him out correctly, yet underestimated him at the same time. "You are one of a kind, Mulder," she said, smiling.

He hefted the backpack beneath the blankets and gazed at her, a sparkle in his eye. "That's part of the reason you love me, isn't it?"

He was thrilled by the answering twinkle in her eyes. "You know it, partner."

**

February 7
6:25 a.m.

Scully watched with amusement the almost jaunty gait of her partner as he walked ahead of her. Happy that a few words from her had rejuvenated him this much, it also saddened her that he still grasped onto these tiny expressions of love the way a drowning man did to a life raft.

Was she so stingy with them before? Had she so rarely shown him how much she cared for him that any crumb she'd thrown his way had become, to him, equivalent to a banquet?

She wasn't a very demonstrative person. Surely he knew that that was why she didn't throw platitudes of love his way every time she wanted to. Daring a look at him, she smiled when he turned to her as though he'd felt her eyes upon him. Hell, he probably could.

Catching up with him, she placed a hand on his back. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," he said, nodding. He indicated the spot she'd just vacated. "What were you thinking about just then?"

Reluctant to reveal her shortcomings to him, she shrugged and offered him a half-truth instead. "I was thinking how much better you were doing."

He frowned as if he knew she wasn't being totally honest with him. "Oh," he said, turning his attention back to the path. "I'm feeling better, thanks."

Suddenly, the disappointment she saw on his face, and felt in herself, became unbearable. "I was thinking about how much I love you," she blurted out, "and how I don't seem to tell you enough."

He stopped then, and she plowed into his back. Before she could peel herself off his backside, he did a one-eighty, holding onto her shoulders before she could move away. Relocating one hand to caress her cheek, he smiled gently. "Thank you," he said softly.

She shrugged. "I thought you needed to know."

Chuckling, he touched his forehead to hers in a gesture she'd come to associate with his deep affection for her. He kissed her forehead, then tilted her head so that she had to look into his eyes. And then she understood.

He knew. He'd always known.

***

Act III
February 7
7:06 a.m.

Mulder cursed softly as he trudged along behind Scully. He'd felt the change come over him a few minutes earlier, but hadn't mentioned it to his partner. The further down the mountain they could get, the better off they'd be, so he'd kept to himself the fact that with each step he took he was feeling poorer and poorer. He wanted to keep going until he absolutely couldn't go on any longer.

Scully turned her head to check his progress, and before he could blink, she was at his side, taking the brunt of his weight as he slid bonelessly to the ground. "Oh, Mulder," she said, softly. "You should have said something."

He shook his head. "I was okay until a couple of minutes ago."

"You should have said something then."

Giving a tired smile, he shrugged. "Thought I could keep going awhile longer." He let his eyes drift shut. "Must be getting old."

She settled him a little more comfortably against a tree trunk. "We're both getting old." Kissing him lightly on his forehead, she uttered, "But as long as we do it together, I don't mind."

Opening his eyes, he fought to bring her face into focus. "Do you really mean that? Do you... would you... grow old with me?"

She smiled then, a huge grin that he'd never before seen gracing her features. "Well, not right away, but... yeah." Her gaze shifted down to their clasped hands. "I think I have to," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Wow," Mulder said, just before he fainted.

**

February 7
7:09 a.m.

Scully laid the last of the blankets over her partner, narrowed her eyes, and squinted up at the sky. She was certain that those fluffy grey clouds rolling in were up to no good.

Where the hell was their rescue? Didn't *anyone* notice that they hadn't returned? At the very least, someone should have missed the damned jeep thing. And just where in the bloody blue blazes on this blamed mountain were she and Mulder anyway?

Scully brought out the trail map and opened it to their last known position. It was dismayingly close to the summit. She cursed herself for not paying attention to landmarks on her drive down. Absurdly, she wondered if she'd be able to locate the site of their "mishap" if she looked for a picture of a moose.

The loud "snap" of a branch breaking off to her right sent Scully scrambling into a side pocket for her gun. Just as her hand closed over the weapon, a gravelly voice ordered, "Hold it right there."

Her finger on the trigger, her thumb about to flick the safety off, Scully froze.

"Let go of whatever it is you've got a hold of in there, and bring your hand out slowly--and empty." Scully looked toward the voice and found a bear of a man holding a shotgun against her partner's head. "Or your boyfriend here gets his pretty face messed up."

"Okay," she said, in what she hoped was a calm voice. "Okay, I'm doing it." Relinquishing her hold on the hard steel, she drew her hand out carefully.

"Good," the man intoned, nodding and licking his lips. He looked almost as nervous as she did. "Now reach in two fingers--no thumb--and pull it out."

Scully did as directed, and as soon as her weapon was in sight, he snatched it out of her hand. She was relieved to see that Mulder was no longer in the gun's sights.

"What about him?" the man asked. "He got a gun, too?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding, wondering whether or not she should volunteer information about their professions.

"Get it." The barrel was once again held against Mulder's temple. "The same way as yours."

Scully nodded, pulling the pile of blankets off Mulder. Kneeling beside him, she patted him down until she felt the hard lump at his side. She reached into his pocket, pulled the gun out, and offered it to their captor.

After the man had deposited their weapons in his jacket pocket, he indicated the ground near Mulder. "Sit down." He gestured to the unmoving Mulder. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's sick," Scully answered. "Flu," she added, in case the man should think Mulder had some highly contagious disease and decide to put him out of his misery.

"Well, for godsakes, cover him back up," the man said.

Surprised, Scully hastened to comply. Since it appeared that the man wasn't the ogre Scully had thought him to be, she took the time to tuck the blankets snugly around her partner. "Thank you," she said, sincerely.

"What are you two doing up here? Don't you know there's a storm coming?"

Scully's gaze took in the gathering clouds. "I suspected as much." She sighed tiredly. "I crashed our four-wheeler trying to avoid a moose."

The man snorted. "Wise move."

Scully studied the man as his thoughts seemed to drift. "Are you going to let us go?" she asked.

"You still haven't told me why you're here." The shotgun, which had been pointed toward the ground, swung up to cover her and Mulder.

"My partner and I were investigating the sites of some murders which took place up here."

The man's demeanor changed from irritated to interested. "Are you law officers?"

Scully hesitated, then nodded, deciding that it would be in their best interests to tell the truth rather than be caught in a lie. "FBI."

"Son of a bitch," the man cursed, and his face seemed to... ripple. Scully blinked, wondering if she'd just seen what she thought she saw. "Get him up," he said. The man jerked his weapon at Mulder, and Scully quickly turned her investigator switch to 'off.' "You're getting out of here now."

Wanting nothing better, Scully rousted her partner. "Mulder," she called, slapping his face lightly.

Mulder groaned and rolled away.

Casting a quick glance to their captor, Scully latched onto Mulder's shoulder and gave it a shake. "Come on, Mulder. I'm sorry, but you have to get up now."

Suddenly, Mulder gave a wail of anguish. "Nooo! Scully, you promised. You said you'd kick their asses!"

"What's he talking about? Kick whose asses?" the man asked, growing more and more agitated by the second.

Scully thought it best to come clean on the first attempt, rather than try to pass it off as nothing. "He was dreaming earlier. Remembering when he was a young profiler and his colleagues wouldn't let him sleep. He was so good they didn't want to let him stop to rest." She brushed a hand through Mulder's hair lovingly. "Even when he was sick." She looked up at the man. "I told him I'd kick their asses so he could sleep."

The man's features softened to an expression of understanding. He looked at Mulder, then turned his gaze to her. "I'm sorry, but it's necessary. If you don't get out of here in time, you'll know why."

A plethora of scenarios, culled from too many years of x-files, ran through Scully's mind. She didn't know which would apply in this situation, or if it was an entirely new one, but she certainly didn't want to wait around to find out. She thanked her lucky stars that their roles weren't reversed. It would be just like Mulder to want to see what would transpire.

She leaned in until her lips were grazing her partner's ear. "Mulder, we have to go. There's a man here, and he says we have to leave. He has our guns, and he said we have to leave now."

She didn't know which part registered, but Mulder's eyes opened, and he made an effort to sit up. "What? What, Scully? What's going on?"

"We need to go," she said. "I need to get you up, and we need to go now."

His confusion-filled eyes blinking, Mulder nodded his head. "Okay. But I'm feeling pretty fuzzy. I don't know how long I'll last."

"I know, Mulder. And I'm sorry." She knelt beside him. "But there's something... urgent... in his insistence that we need to get out of here."

"Whose?" Mulder was blinking owlishly at her, and Scully read the confusion in his eyes.

"There's a man here," she repeated. "He has our guns, and he says we have to leave."

"How?" he asked, and she saw that the cobwebs had finally cleared from his mind. "Didn't you tell him that's what we've been trying to do?"

He met her eyes, and she knew what he was going to say next. She cut him off before the thought could be fully formed in his brain. "No," she said. "I'm not going without you."

Expecting a rebuttal, she was surprised when he drew in a ragged breath. "Thank you," he said, quietly. "I was terrified that you might finally listen to me."

She shook her head. "Never happen."

He laughed, then turned serious. "I feel like shit, Scully. I don't know how far we're going to get this time."

"He says there's a storm coming." When she leaned down to help him up, she whispered in his ear, "But I don't think that's the real reason he wants us to get moving." She took the arm Mulder reached out to her. "He's afraid for us."

"Why?" Mulder asked, as Scully levered herself under his arm and raised him to a standing position.

"I don't know." She shook her head. "I only know that it's something we don't want to be around for." She turned so that she and Mulder were facing their captor. "I just need to pick up our supplies, and we'll leave."

The man held up a hand. "Let me." He handed Scully the knapsack and the blankets.

Accepting them, she nodded to the items in the man's pocket. "What about our weapons?"

Their captor hesitated a second, then reached into his jacket and pulled out the guns. "Here," he said, handling them as if they would burn him. "Now, go." He pointed his arm down the trail. "And don't stop until you're off this mountain."

Scully looked down the trail, then back at the man. "Do you know how far we are from the bottom? How long will it take?"

"We're a little more than halfway to the summit. Should take you a couple of hours."

Scully sighed in frustration. "My partner is sick. We're not able to travel very fast." She gave her partner an apologetic smile. "He's already passed out twice. I doubt very much if we'll make it down that fast."

The man shook his head slowly. "I sincerely hope you're wrong about that."

"Why?" Scully's patience was beginning to wear thin. "Why do we have to leave so quickly?" Not that she didn't want to; it's just that they couldn't. Not with Mulder in the condition he was in.

The man seemed to be considering his words carefully before he finally spoke. "Because you're in danger from this killer you're tracking."

Scully was alarmed. "He's here? He's close?"

The man nodded solemnly. He indicated the path. "Go now. And put in as much distance as you can to the bottom."

Scully held the man's gaze for another second before she latched onto her partner and led him back to the path. After they were out of sight of their captor, she wrapped all the blankets around the two of them, huddling closer to Mulder for warmth. "How's that?" she asked, adjusting the hood of his snowsuit so that it was more snug around his head.

"Fine," he croaked, and she could tell he wanted to be anything but upright.

"I know," she said softly. "I promise... you can sleep for a week once we get out of here."

Hell, he could sleep for a month, a year, he could have his way with her whenever he wanted. Just as long as he made it out.

**

February 7
8:36 a.m.

Surely, Mulder thought, death could not be any worse than what he was going through right now. If it wasn't for the fact that it would endanger Scully's life, Mulder would have succumbed to death's allure long ago. He felt like he'd been walking for days.

It was snowing now. Just putting one foot in front of the other was almost more than he could handle. He'd already fallen a few times, and stumbled even more; he wanted to cry every time Scully forced him back to his feet.

His foot caught on a jutting rock, and he went down--again--landing hard on his knees.

"Oh, Mulder..." Scully mourned, dropping to her knees beside him.

Knowing what was coming next, Mulder felt his eyes fill and his nose become stuffed. He sniffed and tried to blink back the tears, but found that he just hadn't the strength any longer. He bowed his head, braced his hands on his thighs, and gave in to the despair and self-pity that he'd been fighting off for the last hour and a half.

"Mulder, I'm so sorry," Scully said, enfolding him in her arms.

"I can't... go on, Scully," he said, his voice hitching. "I don't want to give up, but I just can't... do it."

"Mulder..."

He braced himself for the pep talk, even as his tears continued to drop onto the snow.

"I'll try to find us some shelter."

Surprised, he looked up. She was regarding him with so much tenderness that it almost overwhelmed him. He sniffled, reigning in his tears. "Is it safe?"

She shrugged. "I don't really know." She hugged him tighter. "I only know that I can't stand to see you suffering any longer."

He took a deep breath, suddenly feeling ashamed; the snow melting beneath his knees seemed like a good thing to look at. "I'm sorry I'm not stronger," he said, quietly.

"Stronger?" she asked, and his head snapped up at the near hysteria he heard in her voice. She released him from her embrace and grabbed his head so that he had no choice but to look into her eyes. "Mulder, this whole case you have been nothing *but* strong. I don't know how you ever made it this far." She shook her head, letting her hands drop to her sides. "I know I couldn't."

He shook his head vehemently. "If it was you, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You would rather die than show me any sign of weakness."

He saw the flash of anger in her eyes. "I--" Then she stopped abruptly and sighed. "You're probably right." She took hold of his hand. "But that doesn't make me stronger." At his questioning look, she dropped her gaze to their joined hands. "That just makes me less open, more afraid to show you how I really feel."

He nodded, sensing the truth in her words, feeling more like he thought a man should feel around a woman, and especially around the woman he loved. "Okay if I wait here?"

She nodded. "I'm not going too far. I'm just going to look for something off the beaten path, so to speak." Smiling, she wrapped all the blankets around him before standing up. "I should only be gone a few minutes."

He couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive, both at her going off alone, and at his being left alone, in a snowstorm, with a killer on the loose. Yet, he returned her smile and nodded at her parting.

Her footsteps muffled by the fresh snow, it was only seconds before he felt like he was the only person left in the world.

**

February 7
8:58 a.m.

When she saw Mulder seated upright, his back against a tree, his eyes closed, his hands limp and unmoving in his lap, Scully's breath caught in her throat. "Mulder?" she asked, not caring if he heard the quiver in her voice, not caring about anything except if he was alive.

To her surprise and great relief, his eyes opened immediately.

She released a shaky breath. "How are you doing? I thought you were... asleep."

He looked just as relieved at seeing her there as she was at seeing him still alive. "I was too scared to sleep. I thought..." Taking a deep breath, he seemed to be regrouping his thoughts. "I thought that if I fell asleep, I might not wake up again. I thought I might not see you again." The hint of a smile touched his eyes. "I thought you might not be too happy to come back and find I'd expired."

She laughed, now that she could, now that he *hadn't* expired. "You're right. I'd have been royally pissed if you'd died before we got to do everything I want to do once we get out of here and get you well."

His eyes lit up. "Such as?"

"Oh, you know... the usual. Hugging, snuggling, kissing, making love like bunnies..."

He laughed. "I'm glad I stuck around, then. I definitely don't want to miss out on any of that." Then his smile faded, and he shuddered violently.

"Come on," she said, reaching down to grasp his hands, helping him to his feet. "I found someplace dry."

Leading him off the trail and onto the sharper incline, Scully tightened her grip on him, following her bootprints, then the markers she'd left when her footsteps were no longer visible because of the falling snow.

Mulder seemed a little stronger now; the rest had apparently done him some good. When she announced that they'd reached their destination, however, Mulder threw himself through the opening and lay on his side, shaking. Scully clambered over him, through the entrance, into the shallow cave. She dragged Mulder the few feet to the back of the cave, then hauled him to an upright position when he began coughing uncontrollably.

The episode lasted about a minute, ending with Mulder trying to suppress the cough by breathing through his nose. Scully slung the knapsack off her back and uncapped a water bottle, offering it to him. It was a few minutes more before he could calm himself enough to chance a sip.

By this time, his eyes were tearing and his nose was running, and he could barely draw in a breath between sips.

"Dammit, Mulder, why didn't you say something? We could have stopped to rest." He had given no indication that he was in any sort of distress.

"Couldn't stop," he gasped. "If I stopped... I might not be able to... move again." He sucked in a breath. "Couldn't chance it."

She sighed, nodding; she would have done the same. "Here," she said, softly, handing him some tissues from where she knew he'd stashed them in the pockets of his snowsuit.

"Thanks," he mumbled, yanking off his gloves to accept the Kleenex. After making himself more presentable, he let his eyes wander, examining their accommodations, while his breathing evened out.

"It's not much," she said, "but at least it's dry." She eyed the entrance. "As long as the wind doesn't change."

"It's great," he said. "Can we do anything about blocking that doorway?"

It was about five feet high and three feet across, but as Scully pictured the insignificant amount of brush they'd passed that could be useful as a screen, it appeared double that. "I'll see what I can find," she said, crawling toward the exit.

"Wait!" Mulder called, stuffing his hands back into his gloves. "I'll help you."

She laid a hand on his thigh. "You're too sick." To emphasize her declaration, she brushed a bead of sweat from his forehead with her thumb. "Stay here and rest."

He looked like he was about to argue with her when he suddenly dropped his gaze and nodded. "Don't go too far." She heard a host of emotions in that utterance, and she loved him for feeling every one of them for her.

"I'll be careful," she acknowledged. "I'll button up." She kissed him on his lips. "I love you, too." And please don't be ashamed, she added silently, hugging him tightly.

"I can't help it," he said into her hair. "I should go with you."

"Not when you're this sick, you shouldn't." Letting him go, she gave him a gentle shove; he acquiesced and lay down. "I'll be right back," she said, burying him under a mound of blankets. "Warm these up for when I get back." She smiled and threw him a wink.

"I'll do my best," he returned, grinning.

She took in one last glimpse of him before darting out into the snow.

"You always do," she said, softly.

***

Act IV
February 7
3:16 p.m.

"Well. It's about time."

Even through his sleep-addled brain, Mulder heard the laughter in her voice. "What time is it?" he croaked. He took in the darkness outside the partially-blocked entryway. "What day, for that matter?"

"Same day, but it's a little after three." She followed his gaze. "It's still snowing. That's why it seems so dark."

He felt no small amount of panic that they were trapped on a mountain with little food, a serial killer on the loose, and useless cel phones. Not to mention that one of them felt like total and absolute crap. His only consolation was that Scully wasn't the sick one. He'd much rather that their fate rested in her hands instead of his. "Are we in any danger?"

"Not at the moment," she answered. "We're out of the snow. We have plenty of 'water,' and I have a small supply of the best junk food the hotel and ranger station vending machines had to offer."

"God, Scully, if we had a TV, this would be a regular resort." A pebble dug into his backside as he slowly sat up. "A soft bed might be a plus, too." His bladder let its presence be known when he shifted to a more comfortable position; he remembered the winter wonderland surrounding them. "Indoor plumbing could be an asset, as well."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I knew that a long time ago," she said, then indicated the doorway with a tilt of her head. "Better get out there while there's still enough light to find your way back."

He nodded, tossing off the blankets and donning his hat and gloves. Scully moved the brush aside and crawled out ahead of him; he was surprised to find her fully dressed for the outdoors as well. "Are you coming with me?" he asked.

Her head bobbed a 'yes.' "I'll turn my back to give you some privacy, but we'll be standing ass to ass, Mulder. I'm not losing you because you couldn't find your way back from a potty break."

He felt exulted and insulted at the same time. "I can--"

"I know you can," she said softly. "But you're ill. And I'm a little more familiar with the terrain." She looked around at the almost total whiteness. "What little we can see of it."

His eyes took in the monotonous vision of trees and rocks, all covered in snow. Ten feet out, he knew he'd be lost. "Lead on, then, McDuff."

Taking hold of his arm, she walked them to a tree not too far away . She faced him toward the tree, then did an about-face. As he pulled off one glove with his teeth and fumbled his way through layers of clothing, he felt her at his backside. "You weren't kidding that we'd be ass-to-ass, were you?"

"Nope," she answered. "Although we're really more ass-to-back."

He smiled as, finally, he reached his goal; he tried not to sigh in relief while he was emptying his bladder. He also tried not to think of how close Scully was and that she was privy to his every movement. Finishing, he groaned in pleasure. "Oh, God. That feels much better." After tucking and zipping and re-gloving, he turned around and grasped her shoulders gently. "All set." When she faced him, he kissed her on the forehead. "God, I love you."

She raised an eyebrow. "And that's the best you can do?"

Always up for a challenge, Mulder leaned down to capture her lips with his.

He didn't know if it was because of the kiss, the altitude or the flu, but he felt himself growing light-headed and broke off. "I'm afraid *that's* the best I can do for now," he puffed, leaning heavily on her.

"What's wrong?" She was gazing at him with concern.

"A little dizzy," he said.

She wound an arm around his waist, taking on part of his weight as she started them back. "You need to eat, and we need to get some fluids into you."

"Okay." It had been awhile since he'd eaten--and then lost--his breakfast. He wasn't feeling so much nauseous any more as he was feeling tired, achy and light-headed. By the time they reached the cave mouth, he was shaking and sweating.

Scully lowered him gently to the floor; when she left him to move the brush back into place, he closed his eyes, trying to will himself back to some semblance of normal. Feeling her settling beside him, he opened his eyes a crack. She was holding her arms open to him.

"Come on, Mulder," she said, gathering him in her arms.

He didn't hesitate even a nanosecond. He wouldn't have thought he could fold himself into a small enough bundle to be gathered to her bosom, yet there he was. Gradually, through all the layers of clothing, her warmth seeped into his chilled bones; he sighed in contentment.

Scully hugged him tighter, then pulled away a little. "Feeling better?"

"Feeling warmer," he told her. He still felt like crap, but at least it was warm crap.

Scully's arm left him, and he felt her reach for something. "What'll it be, partner? I have a wide assortment of candy bars, granola bars, cookies and crackers."

He sat up, trying to get a peek into the backpack she was unzipping. His stomach felt a little rebellious at the thought of putting something in it. "Um, crackers?" He met her gaze for a second. "The blander, the better."

Out the corner of his eye, he saw her nod in understanding. The sound of cellophane rustling brought his eyes to her hands. Removing a plain saltine, she offered it to him with a shy smile. "From my soup last night."

He smiled gratefully as he took the cracker and bit into a corner. Bless her for anticipating what he hadn't even considered. A little embarrassed that she apparently knew his body---and its weaknesses---better than he did, Mulder let his gaze drop down to his lap as he nibbled on his second cracker.

"So why all the food?" he asked, curious as to why his health-conscious partner was carrying around a horde of junk food.

A fleeting smile came to her lips. "I knew we were coming up here today. And I knew that you wouldn't be eating much in the way of 'real' food. So I got a few things that might tempt you to eat, even if you weren't hungry."

Warmed that she'd given so much thought to his well-being, Mulder squeezed her hand. "Thanks," he said quietly. "Thanks for looking after me so much better than I look after myself."

She squeezed back. "It used to be my job, Mulder, but now it's my pleasure." A smile suddenly sprang to her face. "I suppose I should make some glib remark about its being to my advantage to keep you in top condition---and while that may be true to some extent, it's not the reason." Her expression softened to one of affection. "The fact of the matter is that I care about you. I care about how you're feeling, and I want to help you feel better." Her eyes hardened, and her lips compressed to a thin line. "I hate that Kersh could send you out here when you're so ill. I hate that it's even a consideration, that because they've abused you in the past, he thinks that gives him the right to order you to work when you should be home in bed. I'd like to see that bastard show up for desk duty---much less field work---with a hundred and three degree temperature."

She was red-faced and puffing when she finished. Mulder couldn't help it: as shitty as he felt, he was tickled pink. "I've mentioned that I love you, right?"

She looked at him then, gave a laugh and threw her arms around his neck. "You may have told me once or twice."

He smiled against her neck, but jerked back when he felt something wet on his cheek. "Hey," he said, brushing a finger under her wet eyes. "What's this about?"

She shook her head. "I just get so angry sometimes." Using the back of one hand, she wiped her eyes dry. "The way you were treated. The way they still treat you." She took a deep breath. "It just pisses me off."

He swore he could feel his heart swelling up into his throat. He had to swallow before he could speak. "I don't know why you love me, Scully, but I'm glad you do." Reaching out, he pulled her back into his embrace. "I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life."

Scully gave him a hug and then gently disentangled herself. He caught the tail end of the pleased smile she had been wearing. Nodding to the cracker he still held in his hand, she told him, "You can start by eating something."

Shaking his head in amusement, he dutifully finished off the cracker. She promptly handed him another one. By the time he'd consumed all the crackers from all the packages---eight crackers in all---his stomach felt settled enough for him to try something with a little more flavor. The adventurous side of him told him to go for the jalapeno Doritos, but the more practical side of him (he was surprised by this; he didn't think he had one) made him choose the vanilla wafers.

After eating half the bag, Mulder no longer felt hungry. He folded down the top of the bag and handed it to Scully. "Thanks. I've had enough for now."

She regarded him with a suspicious glint in her eye. "Is your stomach okay?"

He was surprised to find that it was; he nodded. "Yup. It's fine. I'm just full." He ran an appraising eye over her petite form swallowed up in all her winter garb. "What about you? You have to eat, too."

She chuckled, reaching into one of the pockets of her snowsuit, pulling out the wrapper to a granola bar. "Already ate." She offered the wrapper to him.

He frowned. Is that what she called a meal? "You have---"

Another wrapper appeared under his nose. Twinkies this time. Mulder nodded his approval. "Okay," he said in a gravelly voice.

Before the thought that his throat was dry could even develop in his mind, Scully produced a bottle of water. Accepting it, he raised his eyebrows. Well. Wasn't someone taking this Mrs. Spooky thing right to heart?

"There's nothing spooky about it, Mulder," she said, and he nearly spit out the mouthful of water he was about to swallow.

Oh, no? he thought, swallowing the liquid, his eyes widening on the question he was unable to voice.

"No," she replied, a smug look overtaking her features. "It's all about being able to read you." Taking the bottle from him, she re-capped it and put it aside. She let her hands play over his face. "Of anticipating what's going through that delicious mind of yours."

He couldn't prevent the enormous grin from spreading over his face. "Delicious?"

She sidled up closer to him, her hand skimming down his face to gently caress his neck. "You are delicious through and through, Mulder."

He felt a shiver run through him at her words. "I think that's my line, Scully."

She shrugged. "Can't say I've ever heard it from you." She snuggled in until she was practically in his lap. "You don't use it, you lose it."

Never one to be accused of inactivity, Mulder wrapped his arms around her and pulled her the rest of the way onto his lap. "Oh, I've used it," he purred in his best sexy voice. "Just not out loud. I think I was afraid you'd pummel me into a ball of mush."

Pushing herself out to arm's length, Scully's amused gaze captured his eyes. "You might end up a ball of mush, but it wouldn't be from my pummeling you."

Trying to wrap his mind around what that might entail, Mulder groaned. "Scully..." he whined.

She batted her eyelashes. "What?" she asked, innocently.

How could anyone with a three-inch layer of bulky clothing be so damned sexy? Surprised to find himself reacting to her under his own sixteen layers of winterwear, Mulder pulled her back to his chest, burrowing his nose under her hood and into her hair.

"Love you," he said, touching his lips to her neck gently. The closeness of her shoulder beneath his ear was too much to resist; he let his head drop down, and uttered one last, "Love you, Scully," before he drifted off.

**

Only the slightest bit miffed that her Romeo had fallen asleep just as things were heating up, Scully eased herself off Mulder's lap and gently lay him down on the "bed" of pine needles that had accumulated in the cave over the years. With a sigh, she leaned back against the wall, contemplating Mulder, the cave, the mountain outside their 'doorway,' the killer, the FBI...

Jolted awake from a sleep she couldn't even remember lying down for, Scully panicked for a few seconds while she tried to remember where she was. The feel of pine needles beneath her hand and the agitated moan of her partner brought her up to speed fairly quickly.

Pulling off a glove, she laid her palm on her partner's cheek, disquieted by the heat she found there. His thrashing calmed upon her initial touch, but started up again when she removed her hand to reach for the water and the first aid kit. Abandoning her search for the moment, she rested her hand on his forehead.

"Mulder," she called softly. He moaned in response. "Can you open your eyes for me, partner?" She massaged his face gently as she spoke to him.

"Save me..." he muttered. "Scully, save me... They won't let me..." He broke off suddenly with a sob that broke her heart.

"Leave him alone, you bastards!" she yelled. She leaned over to speak softly into Mulder's ear. "There you go, partner." She pressed her lips to his ear in a kiss. "Come on now. Come back to me now."

"Scully," he sighed. His head turned until his lips met hers, whether intentional or by accident, Scully couldn't tell. "Thanks," he whispered into her mouth, before his breathing evened out.

"Sure thing," she muttered, irked that he'd fallen back to sleep so easily while she was now wide-awake.

About to lie back down and give it the old college try, she shivered when the sound of a howl reached her ears. She froze, trying to determine just which mountain creature could be out there, and hoping that her 'door' would be effective at hiding them.

After a few seconds, she heard stealthy footsteps as they trod over the snow-covered ground through to the crunchy leaf cover below. Even though it had been snowing steadily for a few hours, only a couple of inches had managed to accumulate, and she could see, with the brightening sky, that the snow had stopped altogether.

While one portion of her brain marveled that she'd apparently slept twelve hours straight, another pondered just what could be stalking them. Slipping her hand into her pocket, Scully removed her weapon, checking the clip and releasing the safety. She debated whether or not to wake Mulder, then decided that, hell, misery loved company, and wouldn't he just be all the more miserable if she didn't wake him.

She leaned in close to his ear, shaking his shoulder while she whispered, "Mulder, wake up."

His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, Scully was distracted by how utterly endearing he looked. "Whassrong?" he asked, blinking those glorious eyelashes over those gorgeous eyes.

Giving herself a mental swat upside the head, Scully filled him in on their potential visitor. "Someone or some thing is outside. I need you to back me up in case it decides to come in."

His grogginess dissipated in an instant. She gave him a hand a he struggled to sit up. "Thanks," he puffed out, breathing heavily. "Do you..." He reached inside his pocket, drawing out his gun. "...have any idea what it could be?"

She shook her head. "Whatever it is, it's treading slowly and carefully." She gave him a grave look. "Almost as if..." She trailed off.

"As if it knew we were in here," he finished quietly.

"Yeah." She watched as Mulder flicked his safety off as quietly as he could, then they turned their attention to the entrance, both weapons trained on the doorway.

Within a minute, loud snuffling announced the arrival of something most definitely not human. Holding her breath as the outline of a very large biped loomed into view behind the brush, Scully grit her teeth to tamp down the feeling of panic that was starting to build.

Suddenly, the bushes were swept aside, and what looked like Godzilla in armor plating stood glaring in at them. Scully's mouth went dry. She lowered her gun and reached for Mulder's hand. There was no way bullets were going to penetrate that hide. If she was going to die, she was going to do it connected to Mulder in some way.

Mulder, too, lowered his weapon. Grasping Scully's hand in his, he went her one better by pulling her into a crushing embrace. Scully closed her eyes and hugged him for all she was worth, love and regret now overshadowing the all-encompassing fear she'd felt only a few seconds ago.

"Scully..." Mulder murmured, and she heard his voice---as well as his heart---breaking. She felt him swallow as his throat constricted with tears.

"I know, Mulder." She hugged him tighter. "Me, too."

As she waited for the beast to strike, it occurred to her that the death blow was taking an unusually long time in coming. She cracked open an eye, hoping that by some miracle...

It was crouched down, staring at her, regarding her with curiosity. 'Intelligent?' she wondered. "Mulder," she whispered.

His head shifted forward a little, and his cheek pressed into hers as he peeked around her head. "What's it doing?" he whispered back.

The thing was now regarding them with an expression of amusement, irritation, and indulgence. "I *can* hear you, you know."

Scully's mouth dropped open.

Mulder jerked back in surprise so fast, he cracked his head against the wall. "Son of a..." he began, then broke off abruptly.

As much as Scully wanted to ascertain that he was okay, she couldn't take her eyes off the refugee from Japanimation that had just addressed them with a British accent.

"You'll never apprehend him with *those*." The creature was gazing distastefully at the weapons being held limply in their hands.

"Uh..." Scully began. "Wh..." She cleared her throat and tried again. "What should we use?" Then the absurdity of the situation hit her. "Who the hell are you? And who the hell is 'him?'"

The beast laughed in delight, and Scully was surprised that she knew this, because the only sound that reached her ears was a growl. "Oh, I do so adore your attitude," it said, in that damned accent again, and she was really hard-pressed to match that voice to that... er... face. "I," the beast began, his countenance losing all trace of humor, "am..." He paused again. "Oh, bloody hell. Just call me 'Targ." You'd never be able to pronounce the Kilartian version."

Scully blinked. She ran though her mental database of all known languages, including popular, archaic and defunct. "'Kilartian' was not among them.

"Where are you from?" Mulder asked, annoying the hell out of her that he'd come to the conclusion a split second before her: that their friend was not of this world. Or dimension. Or plane of existence.

She jerked her head. When had believing in aliens, demons and time travelers become so matter-of-fact, so second nature, to her? Thinking all Mulder's attention was devoted to the creature, Scully jumped when he touched her lightly on the arm.

"You okay?"

The warmth and concern in his voice knocked her out of her thoughts and back to the present. It also served to vanquish any lingering vestiges of irritation and jealousy she'd harbored toward her partner. She was not surprised to find his gaze upon her, and not the creature. "I'm okay," she said, trying to convey by her tone that she really was. Breaking their eye contact, she addressed Targ. "Who are you?"

The creature dipped its head, a movement that looked so out of place, given its fearsome appearance, yet also quite natural. "Like you," he indicated her and Mulder, "I am a law officer."

Scully nodded. She'd suspected as much. "Are you from..." Throwing a sideways glance at her partner, she decided to fulfill her own curiosity, and shock the hell out of him as an added bonus. "...from another planet or another dimension?"

Mulder did not disappoint. "Wow, Scully." She turned to find him studying her, his expression one of awe, surprise and delight.

Blushing a little, even though she'd expected just that reaction, she returned his smile before turning her attention back to Targ.

"Actually, from both," he replied. "And another time."

"The future?" she asked.

Targ shook his head. "The past. The much distant past."

"Really?" Mulder asked, and Scully shared his wonderment. She thought how truly gratifying it was to finally experience that sense of belief, of acceptance of something at face value, just because someone told her it was so.

"Yes, really," Targ answered. He gestured to the winter wonderland outside, a little impatiently, it appeared to Scully. "Now since you obviously didn't take my earlier advice about leaving this mountain--"

"The old man," Scully interrupted. "That was you."

Targ nodded.

"Why didn't you just tell us?" Scully was a little irked by that whole 'mystery man of the mountain' performance now that she knew it had been Targ all along.

"I had no intention of revealing myself to you." He indicated their surroundings. "Now, however, you give me no choice." Taking a moment to sniff the cold, crisp air, he returned his gaze to her. "Retic has your scent."

"Retic? Is that who you're after?" Mulder asked.

"He is, yes. And since you are now involved, you can assist me in capturing my prey." He sniffed again. "Although considering the carnage he's wrought, 'prey' is not too appropriate a term."

"Is he responsible for the deaths up here?" Scully asked.

Targ nodded. "Yes, And in my home. And in the country you call England."

"Is that where you..." Scully raised her eyebrows in question. She tilted her head. "The accent?"

Targ stared in incomprehension for a moment. "The language is the same, but the... dialect... is not?"

"The accent is distinctly British, yes," Scully told him, something still puzzling her. "The old man, though. You didn't use that accent with him."

Targ seemed put out. "Of course not," he reproved her. "That would have been as out of place as your seeing me like this."

Scully exchanged a look with Mulder. 'Probably more so,' she thought.

"So..." Targ rubbed his 'hands' together in expectation, then indicated the area outside the cave. "Shall we?"

Assisting Mulder to his feet, Scully said, "I don't know how much help we'll be. You said our weapons were useless, and if he's built like you, we aren't about to overpower him." She regarded her partner, leaning heavily on her; he looked like he wouldn't last upright more than fifteen minutes. "And my partner's sick. He won't be able to help us much." Placing her lips to his ear, she whispered, "Sorry, Mulder."

He nodded shakily. "It's okay," he said softly. Then he lifted his head to observe the alien. "I'm afraid she's right. It's all I can do to stand. I'm not going to be any help to you in a fight."

"Not to worry," Targ tut-tutted, shooing them out of the cave. "He'll do fine."

The smugness in the alien's tone didn't escape Scully. She stopped in her tracks, holding onto Mulder tightly so that he stayed with her. "No," she said, when Targ turned around to face her.

"I'm afraid it's the only way," Targ replied, and the only thing stopping Scully from giving him an earful was the fact that his tone really did convey regret---and that he was probably right.

Mulder was to be the bait.

**

February 7
5:45 p.m.

If he'd ever been more miserable in his life, Mulder couldn't recall it. They'd selected a patch of flat land, cleared a small area of snow, and started a fire. He was dry and relatively warm, but he wanted to be anything but sitting up, pretending he wasn't dying.

Targ had assured them that Retic was in the vicinity, if not the immediate area, and would soon be paying him a visit. The alien law officer had masked Scully's scent from his adversary, and Mulder gained no small relief from the fact that the only life being risked in this ploy was his.

He knew that she hated the situation and that she was worried about him; he hoped that that worry wouldn't cause her to do anything rash or reckless. His normally level-headed partner tended to come a little unglued when his life was in danger. Although she rarely displayed any evidence of this, it was a secret she'd revealed to him when their relationship had finally, finally, *finally* evolved to the next plane.

The snap of a twig off to his left jerked his attention away from the fire. Mulder's breath caught at what was now approaching him. Although smaller than Targ, an air of viciousness clung to the alien like a second skin. The smile it gave him was not meant to comfort.

As the creature moved closer, and neither Scully or Targ appeared to be coming to the rescue, Mulder thought some action in his own defense might be advisable. Drawing his weapon out of his pocket, he flicked the safety off and pointed it at the alien; he was relieved to find his hand steady and his aim true---for all the good it would do.

Unlike the inaction he'd taken with Targ, Mulder did not lay his weapon down; even though he knew it would have no effect on the heavily-armored creature, it made him feel like he had some control over his fate. Aiming for the alien's eyes, Mulder got off two ineffective shots before the creature was upon him. Its mouth opened wide, engulfing the first part of him it reached: his outstretched hand---his outstretched hand with the gun.

As the teeth were closing over his arm, Mulder fired into Retic's mouth. The alien howled, and Mulder yanked his wounded arm free. Enraged, the alien backhanded Mulder, sending him flying until a tree broke his flight.

Right before he passed out, Mulder saw Targ, and then a stormy-faced Scully appear out of thin air. He almost giggled at the thought that if looks could kill, Scully's could annihilate. He almost felt sorry for the alien.

And then he grew puzzled because her glare was not directed at Retic, their enemy, but at Targ, their ally.

**

February 8
6:50 a.m.

His eyes, when he opened them, were met with the sight of gray and green. He groaned in disappointment; he'd hoped to be waking up in a nice, warm bed, Scully by his side...

He turned his head, and there she was, cuddled against him, sleeping like a baby. As awareness returned to him, so did all the aches and pains that reminded him he still had that blasted flu.

Suddenly remembering the last few minutes before his unexpected nap, Mulder jerked up in alarm.

"What? What?" Scully reached for him in her confusion, and Mulder cursed himself for waking her.

"Shh. It's okay. I'm sorry I woke you." He rubbed her back, then looked at his arm. Wasn't that arm recently in the mouth of a bad-tempered alien? And didn't that bad-tempered alien try to chow down on said arm?

"Targ fixed it," Scully told him, and he could feel the distaste in her voice.

"Shouldn't he have?" he wondered.

She nodded. "Of course. The jerk. It was the least he could do after trying to feed you to that overgrown iguana."

Mulder furrowed his brows in confusion; he replayed the entire encounter with Retic until it became clear. "He had no intention of rescuing me, did he?"

Scully shook her head angrily. "No. And since he had me in that damned... stasis field... I couldn't do anything, either." She looked away. "Except watch."

"Scully..." he started.

"No, Mulder," she cut him off. "No matter what you're going to say, there is no comparison. I was going to watch you die. I knew it was going to happen, and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop it."

"But it didn't happen." He gazed at her, puzzled. "Why didn't it happen?"

He was so pleased to see a smile on her face, he almost didn't care about the answer. "You shot him in the only place where some damage could be done."

Mulder blinked. "So I killed him?"

Scully hedged a moment before answering. "You incapacitated him. While Targ was debating whether or not Retic would recover enough to finish you off, I took Targ's weapon and ended the debate." Her features turned surly. "He's lucky I didn't do the same for him."

"But why? Why didn't Targ try to capture Retic once he was down?"

Scully's lip curled into a sneer. "It appears that right after Retic has 'fed,' he lapses into a 'digestion' period for about five minutes. Targ was going to use this time to subdue him and transport him back."

"But you didn't let him," Mulder said softly.

"That coward," Scully spat. "Willing to sacrifice another living being so that he didn't have to break a sweat." She drew in a shaky breath, then captured his gaze. "I wanted to kill him. Because he used you, and tricked me, and nearly got you killed." She paused. "And for what he put me through."

He rubbed a hand up and down her arm. "I can only imagine what it must have felt like---and just thinking about it scares the hell out of me. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

She nodded stiffly, and he could tell she was trying not to cry. "Oh, Mulder. When I watched your arm disappear into that thing's mouth, I thought for sure I was watching you die."

She threw herself into his arms, and he felt her tears on his neck. He had no witty remark to make, and no words of comfort to offer for a pain of this magnitude, so he just held her tight and tried not to cry himself.

He wanted to slap himself when, after only a few minutes, what had begun as a small tickle grew into a full-blown coughing fit. When he could finally get a breath, he found their roles were reversed, with Scully holding him upright, her hands offering support as well as comfort.

"Sorry," he wheezed.

She gave him a severe look.

"Sorry," he said, apologizing for apologizing. Then the absurdity of his words hit him, and he smiled goofily.

Scully laughed, and Mulder was so thrilled to see it that he forgot about his illness and their situation and his near-death and laughed with her.

All too soon, reality seeped back in. The grim look returned to Scully's face before it softened into one of concern. "We should try to get out of here. Do you want to give it a try?"

What he wanted was to curl up in Scully's arms until either he felt better or spring arrived, whichever came last.

He surprised himself by telling her just that.

She smiled sadly. "I wish you could rest, too. You need to rest." She stood up, then helped him rise to his feet slowly. "When we get home, and I get you into bed, I'm not letting you out again for anyone. You're going to stay put until you're well, and until I'm good and ready to let you go."

It sounded terrific to him, but he was worried because the reason it sounded so good was the promise of sleep--and nothing else. He looked at her glumly. "I think I'm losing my sex drive."

Her eyebrows set a new height record. "What?"

He let his gaze drift down to his boots. "When you mentioned you and me and bed... the only thing I want to do is sleep."

She shook her head. "Oh, Mulder," she chuckled.

He looked back up, feeling silly. "It's probably just temporary, huh?"

She clutched his arm possessively. "I can almost guarantee it."

Laying his hand over hers, he patted it lovingly. "In that case, let's get started on the road to recovery."

***

Epilogue
February 10
Deputy Director Kersh's Office
10:08 a.m.

"Bears?" Deputy Director Kersh stared at Scully over the top of his wire rims. "Your suspect was eaten by bears?"

"Taken."

"What?"

"The suspect was taken by bears. We couldn't find any trace of him, so it's assumed he was eaten."

"That's your professional opinion?" Kersh challenged.

"That is the professional opinion of the White Mountain Parks Department rangers."

Kersh sighed. "You're certain it was him?"

"Yes, sir He attacked Agent Mulder, and he admitted to the murders." Even if it wasn't quite true, even if it was Targ who'd told them about the killings, it was as close to the truth as she was willing to put on paper.

"Very well." Kersh's eyes scanned the office. "Where *is* Agent Mulder."

"Home. Recovering from the flu."

Kersh didn't seem in the least affected. "Really. When do you expect him back?"

"About one to two weeks." She was about to offer more of an explanation, then decided not to bother. Kersh didn't care, anyway.

"I see. Dismissed, Agent."

Meeting Kersh's diffident eyes with a cold glare of her own, Scully nodded and left.

She stopped off at Skinner's office, arranging to take a few vacation days with his assistant. After she thanked the woman, she took the elevator to the basement, grabbed her coat and her briefcase, and went home.

**

February 10
Dana Scully's Apartment
12:21 p.m.

Clutching her bundles tightly, trying to make as little noise as possible, Scully sneaked past the sleeping form on the couch; she nearly dropped the three grocery bags, two lunch sacks, and one pharmacy package when Mulder uttered a raspy, "Hi."

She placed her parcels on the counter and returned to his side, shucking her coat as she did so. "Hi," she said, softly, touching the back of her hand to his still-hot skin. "How are you feeling?"

He licked his lips. "Not too great physically, but much better mentally."

She smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. Sleeping in a cold, dark cave and traveling on a snowy, unfriendly mountain were harrowing under the best of circumstances, but when a person's not at his best, and is downright ill... well, it was enough to make a grown man cry. She brushed the hair out of his eyes, her fingers tracing his brow gently. "Are you hungry?"

He mulled it over for a moment before he answered. "I think so." He sniffed the air, and Scully could smell the tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen. "What did you bring?"

"Roast chicken breast and a salad for me, and chicken broth--with crackers--for you." She indicated the bags on the counter. "I'm willing to share if you think you can eat some chicken."

He turned slightly green and swallowed hard before he answered. "No, thanks. I'm going to stick with the soup and crackers."

She rubbed her palm along his upper arm. "It's okay. At least you're eating something."

After they'd been picked up by the ranger--who had only questioned their whereabouts because of the absence of the jeep thingy--then choppered back to Portsmouth, she'd driven them straight to her place. She'd put Mulder in her bed, from which he hadn't budged until this morning when he'd relocated to the couch, and the comforting drone of the television.

He'd had no appetite for two days, and it had been all she could do to get liquids into him. That he was now hungry enough for soup and crackers was encouraging. She was glad she'd stopped at the grocery store and stocked up on crackers, bread and a variety of soups, from clear broth to the more hearty vegetable ones.

"Do you want me to bring it in here?" she asked.

He sat up slowly, and didn't seem inclined to move. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, eyeing her dining room as if it were a thousand miles away.

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