Title:  Nothing Important Happened 3 -- Hell Bound
Author:  Vickie Moseley
Summary:  post Existence series that takes a 
different path than Season 9.
Category:  MSR, A
Rating:  E for everybody
Disclaimer:  The characters belong to 20th Century 
Fox and 1013 Productions.  The idea for a ninth 
season belongs to somebody, but they're smart to 
remain nameless.  I tried to fix things, but I didn't 
infringe on the copyright.  Frankly, I doubt anyone 
involved would recognize the place.
Authors notes:  I'm thinking on making this a series.  
Let me know if I should.  
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com <mailto:vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com>

Nothing Important 3 -- Hell Bound

by Vickie Moseley 

Near the Nolichucky River

North Carolina

4:35 am 

The cabin was dark as Doggett made his way up the gravel drive.  He'd
left his car at the main road, tucked in the undergrowth.  He was
dressed for night recon -- completely black, head to toe.  His shoes
were soft-soled and he purposely walked in the grass at the edge of the
drive, just as he'd been taught in Ranger School.  Finding the security
system circuit board nailed to a tree about half way to the house had
been child's play.  He laughed silently as he thought of the three
nutcases who had installed it, thinking it was state of the art.  The
'art' was a work in progress -- always being updated.  Every measure
they'd installed now had a countermeasure and more.  It had taken mere
seconds to disable the system, leaving the cabin in the woods defenseless. 

He'd been thinking of how it would go down during his trip out here. 
Mulder would undoubtedly attack him, Scully would run for William.  He
could take Mulder out, permanently.  It would have to look like an
accident, something plausible.  A gun pointed the wrong way in a
struggle, something easy to explain.   

He'd rehearsed his little words of comfort as well.  "Dana, oh my God,
I -- I was just trying to find you!  I didn't mean to kill him, oh God,
I didn't mean to kill him!"  Yeah, she'd fall for it.  She'd grown to
trust John Doggett long ago.  Funny how a well-placed knife-slice to the
back will do that for some people. 

He was almost to the cabin when he stopped and held up a tiny device, a
modified infrared system.  This one was so sensitive, so delicate, it
allowed him to sense movement inside structures.   

No heat signatures on the first floor.  Not unexpected.  The sleeping
quarters were in the walk-out basement, protected in part by the
hillside the cabin was built into so he knew nothing would register down
there.  That was fine, he knew where the bedroom was located, it had
been under long range surveillance for a few days. 

Sleeping quarters.  It would take steel nerves for him to stay calm if
he found them in bed together.  Dana was only 4 weeks post-partum, but
it wouldn't surprise Doggett if Mulder had already taken her to his
bed.  It infuriated him to think of Mulder making love -- no, screwing
her.  But then, Scully was pretty tough.  Maybe he'd tried and she'd
fought him off with those ice dagger looks that only she could affect. 
Dana Scully on a bad day was enough to make any man's balls shrink to
the size of peanuts.   

Doggett had no doubt that Dana Scully was loyal to her former partner. 
Now tangled in that loyalty was a sense of continued responsibility for
the life the two of them had created.  But after being around her for
the past 8 months, John was not convinced that it was really love.  He
was positive Dana Scully had never really been in love.  He'd seen her
file, the file the Bureau didn't even know about.  He knew her choice in
men and Mulder had been just the last in a long line.  Dana Scully
always fell for men in authority, men who taught her at various points
in her life.  Father figures.  She was searching for her father, lost
all those years to the sea and then more recently to the grave.   

Come to Daddy, Dana, he chuckled to himself.  He was more authority
figure than Mulder could ever hope to be.  That wimp had never even
fought in a war, had never commanded men to go out and kill or be
killed.  Sure, he might have been a good field agent, a good profiler --
once a long time ago.  But what did Fox Mulder know of authority?  If
anything, Fox Mulder had become a bane to the very government that once
employed him.  How Dana could love a man who so totally thwarted
authority was a constant dilemma for Doggett.   

But all that would end this dawn.  After Mulder was out of the picture
it would be so easy to make her fall in love with him, Doggett knew
that.  He was on his way to capturing her heart during those three short
months between Mulder's funeral and his 'resurrection'.  Damn Skinner
and his snooping! 

He was at the back of the basement where it walked out into the small
cement patio.  He braced himself against the side of the cabin, mentally
preparing himself for the battle to come.  He would enter silently but
then make a noise.   

Mulder slept to the left side of the bed, high-powered remote
surveillance of the couple had supplied that information.  Good, the
left side was the side closest to the glass sliding door.   

Mulder kept a weapon on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. 
Again, good -- Doggett was wearing a vest.  Only a headshot would be a
problem and he knew from Mulder's file that the man tended to shoot
low.  Perfect.  John's aim was true and for this shot he would aim for
that point right between those damned hazel eyes. 

A deep breath.  Ten, fifteen more minutes and Dana Scully would be
sobbing in his arms again.  He would never forget the feel of her body
as it weighed him down in that school in the desert.  She was slight of
form, but her strength was incredible.  She'd been crying for Mulder
then, too.  That's ok, it's going to be all right, Dana.  I'm sorry, I'm
so sorry.  I'll take care of you Dana, you and William.  We'll raise him
together, just the two of us.  It will be all right. 

Shaking his head to dissipate the fantasy soon to be reality, he
gripped his Glock tighter in his hand and approached the glass door. 
There wasn't a bar across -- Mulder put way too much faith in the
technology of his old friends.  Just a simple lock at the handle and the
thin wire in Doggett's left hand made short work of that.  He glanced at
his watch as he slid the door aside.  4:46 pm.  So 4:48 or so would be
the time on the death certificate.  He would have to remember this date
and time to celebrate for the rest of his life.  The day and time his
life changed for the better. 

A few steps into the room and he was just a foot from the bed.  Time
for some noise.  He reached over to the dresser and knocked a small,
framed picture over before assuming a firing position. 

Something was wrong, very wrong. 

No one moved.  Doggett could make out vague shapes on the bed, but he
now took a moment to listen closely.  No sounds of respiration.  He knew
better than to think either of the occupants were that quiet.   

The bed was in shadows.  Doggett stepped over closer and pulled at the
edge of the comforter covering the two shapes.  Two king sized pillows
were revealed, lying in the position of two bodies. 

Doggett's fantasy day had just gone straight to hell. 

Weed Hope, New Mexico
Two weeks later 

Dana Scully stood in front of the mirror and finished toweling her
hair.  It was wet and therefore still too dark to see properly, but
already it looked foreign on her head.  She picked up the blow dryer
from the counter next to the sink and then thought better of it.  In the
rickety old Air Stream trailer, the added voltage of a hair dryer was
just likely to blow the circuit.  She combed through her locks, now
curlier and much shorter than at any time in her life, and took a deep
breath.   

Her hair was now cut well above her collar.  With the help of a perm
solution, the natural curl was forming ringlets around her head.  When
it dried it would very short and very curly.  She had always hated the
curl in her hair, preferring the straight, sleek look.  But then, that
was the whole idea -- to change her looks in subtle ways -- first the
dye job to make her a light strawberry blond and now the curls.  The
card of cheap earrings Mulder had insisted on picking up at the Wal-Mart
would complete the disguise.   

She closed her eyes, thinking of all that they had left at the cabin. 
The cabin had been completely outfitted, waiting for them.  Their
current domicile, a 1950s era Air Stream trailer with two bedrooms and a
kitchen that was not up to code, was a definite step in the wrong
direction, but no one but they knew of its existence or location.   

From what Langly had told Mulder on the payphone outside Odessa, Texas,
whoever had broken into the cabin had been pretty angry to find them
gone.  Much of the furniture in the bedroom had been trashed, including
six slugs from an unidentifiable weapon in a tight pattern where Mulder
had previously laid his head.  There was almost no doubt now -- someone
wanted her partner dead.  When she opened her eyes and looked in the
mirror, she knew it was time to face their new life on the run. 

She opened the door of the tiny bathroom and stepped out into a
Lilliputian hallway.  She could hear Mulder's footsteps as he paced the
living room.  It wasn't an unfamiliar sound, but this time it was
different.  This time his pacing was accompanied by song.  An old rock
classic, the Who, if she wasn't mistaken.  He was singing their son to
sleep with Pinball Wizard? 

". . . the kid plays a mean pin-balllllllllll," he murmured as she
entered.  Scully at to admit, at least he was attempting to give the
song lullaby-like qualities. 

"Look, William, it's Mommy!" Mulder cooed as he turned so that the baby
on his shoulder could see her walking into the cramped living room. 

"He's dead to the world, Mulder," she whispered as she lifted the
infant off his father's shoulders.  "You do good work." 

"Hey, I've had plenty of time to practice," Mulder smirked in reply. 
He reached over and touched one of her locks.  "Still wet.  Can't wait
to see what the woman I'm sleeping with looks like," he teased. 

"And speaking of which, we have to talk.  About the beard," Scully said
with stern voice.  "It scratches.  And not just me.  William looks like
he has rug burn." 

"He's way too young -- " Mulder stopped in the middle of that very male
thought and sighed.  "Scully, I think I'd look ridiculous as a red
head.  Besides, two red-heads in one family is dangerous enough," he
added, touching the soft fuzz adorning their son's head. 

"I'm not suggesting we dye your hair, Mulder.  I just think the beard
is not the way to go." 

"Mustache?  Wouldn't be so scratchy," he suggested.  "How about one of
those mustache-beards that just lines my mouth and chin?" 

"And looks like a woman's . . . " she stared pointedly down at the
zipper of her own jeans.  "No." 

"Then give me some ideas here, Scully.  You're the one who decided we
had to have disguises." 

She stared at him for a moment and then nodded to herself. 
"Highlights.  Blond highlights in your hair.  And a shorter cut.  And
you start wearing your glasses." 

"Glasses?  Scully, I haven't worn my glasses since . . . I only need
the contacts for reading, you know," he said, shaking his head. 

"Glasses.  All the time.  The wire-rimmed kind you wore when I first
met you.  That's your disguise.  Or we could dress you up in drag. 
You'd look great in a long wig and pantyhose with high heels, Mulder,"
she said, barely containing her chuckle.    

He gave her a bored look.  "I don't think so," was his over the
shoulder reply as he turned to walk down the hall she'd just exited. 
She followed him into the miniature room across from the bathroom.  It
contained only a battered crib and an equally battered changing table
and still it was overcrowded.  Mulder watched as Scully laid William in
the crib and then shooed her out of the room ahead of him. 

He disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing minutes later
clean-shaven.  He found her in the living room, folding laundry. 
Reaching down, he took her hand and pulled her toward the last room of
the trailer, their bedroom. 

"You are taking a nap," he directed. 

"My hair's still damp.  It'll flatten out and look funny," she objected. 

"It's almost dry," he replied, running his fingers through the now
strawberry locks. 

"I'm not sleepy," she answered, taking his hand and kissing it.   

"Scully . . ." 

"Mulder, in all the excitement of leaving the cabin, running out here
to New Mexico, finding this place, you've failed to look at a calendar
recently," she told him with a tilt of her head. 

He looked at her in confusion until suddenly her words sank in. 
William was six weeks old.  Their six weeks of abstinence was over --
but it had been much longer than six weeks.  It had been a year since
their last trip to Bellefleur together.   His confusion turned first to
delight and then to shyness.  "Are you saying . . . " 

It was her turn to be shy.  Maybe this wasn't what he wanted at all. 
She hadn't pressed him on the matter after his return, even though she
desperately wanted that closeness again.  Still, maybe he wasn't ready
for that yet.  Maybe he needed more time, with all the changes they were
making so quickly.   

"Mulder, I'm not . . . I don't want you to think I'm pressuring you . .
."  She dropped his hand and moved around him toward the other living
room.  "Never mind." 

"Scully."  He grabbed her hand and turned her toward him.  She still
refused to look him in the eyes, so he reached up and touched her chin. 
Finally she was locked in his gaze.  "Scully, can I take a nap with
you?"  His voice was soft, husky, just the way she remembered it from so
very long ago.  She knew they might sleep, but not right away.   

Her smile was all the answer he needed.  She clasped her hand atop his
on her chin.  "I would love that," she said.   

It had been so very long.  Their last time together had been in a
knotty-pine paneled motel room in Oregon, almost one year to the day. 
They'd had such a short time together before that -- one night after a
crop circle hoax, stolen afternoons for the next couple of weekends --
and then he was gone.   

His thoughts were back to the first time as he helped her pull off her
shirt and shorts.  She had initiated the moment, just as he'd always
dreamed.  "I still can't believe . . . " he said softly. 

"What?  That we're here, together?" she sighed.  She struggled with the
button on his jeans for no more than a second until she was successful. 

"No, that it took us so damned long," he replied.  He leaned down and
took possession of her mouth, his hands not stopping or slowing.  Soon
she was completely nude before him.  When he looked down, he found
himself in a similar state of undress.  "But at least we know how to go
fast when we need to," he quipped. 

"I don't want fast today.  I want slow," she told him.  She pulled on
his arm and they fell onto the double bed.  "Slow.  Nice and slow," she
sighed again. 

"I can handle slow," he murmured and leaned over to kiss her lips once,
twice, more until she closed her eyes in bliss.  She ran her hands
through his hair and opened her lips to him.  They drank deeply of each
other, remembering and making new memories in the process. 

"I missed you, oh, God, Mulder, I missed you so much," she moaned.  "So
long, so very long . . . " 

He kissed the tear that leaked from her eye.  "Shhh, it's over now. 
I'm here," he murmured.  "I'm here and I'm never leaving again."  He
continued his kisses down her cheek, moving over to nibble lightly on
her earlobe just to hear her gasp and feel her squirm in his arms.  From
their first night together he'd learned and memorized all the ways he
could make her melt and he intended to put all that knowledge to good use. 

She arched her neck, leading him downward.  He suckled at her throat
and then felt something wet against his chest.  When he looked down, her
breasts were leaking milk.   

"I'm sorry," she muttered, reaching for a tissue next to the bed.  He
stopped her hand. 

"Don't," he ordered.   He turned her face toward him, his eyes sought
her permission.  "However, I don't want to take food out of my kid's
mouth," he vacillated.   

"The supply is pretty much unlimited," she said. 

"I've never done anything like this," he admitted, looking down at her
breasts. 

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you did, unless you were bottle-fed," she said
with a grinned.  "Go ahead, Mulder.  It's OK." 

He closed his eyes and slowly took her nipple into his mouth.  She felt
the tug down deep in her core as he began to suck once, twice, and then
started lapping and nipping.  It felt wonderful to her, erotic and sexy,
totally unlike the feeling of warmth and contentment she got when
William fed at her breast.   

She'd wondered if she would want Mulder to avoid her milk-heavy breasts
when they made love, but now she had her answer.  She wanted his
attention there now more than ever.  But after a few short minutes, her
nipples started to hurt. 

"Careful," she warned with a hiss.  "Your son has your intensity and
attention to detail," she added, softening her words. 

"I like that in a kid," he muttered, now kissing the soft mound. 
"Scully, I'm so . . . I can't describe . . . " 

"Then stop trying," she replied and with her hand on the back of his
head, she guided him to her other breast. 

He'd figured out the signs by the time he started work on her other
breast.  When he felt her muscles tighten, it was time to stop pulling
and start kissing.  Still, the sensation was incredible.  The breast
milk tasted sweet on his tongue.  Her skin was so warm and soft, just as
he remembered.  He thanked God, a supreme entity he was finally
beginning to understand, for his memory and for the ability to commit
this moment to memory.  He wanted to relive these precious moments
forever. 

He knew that his time at her breasts was limited so he started kissing
down her stomach. 

"Touch me, Mulder, please," she groaned.  "It's been so long . . ." 

At his first kiss, her back arched off the bed.  He looked up at her
over her still red curls and grinned.  "Too long.  But no longer," he
said and went back to his efforts.  In moments she was sighing, gasping,
trembling beneath his tongue and lips.  Her essence on his tongue was so
familiar; the landscape of her body was so intimate to him.  He closed
his eyes and set about giving her pleasure. 

She was his constant.  Even when it seemed his world had completely
forgotten him, she was there to anchor him, make him whole. 

She was his touchstone.  Ripped from her family, she followed him,
never wavering in her complete trust and confidence that together, they
could withstand any assault, overcome any obstacle. 

She was the mother of his child.  He'd had doubts, serious doubts about
what a child would do to their relationship.  He knew how much Scully
had wanted to adopt and keep Emily, how Emily's death had affected her
for years afterwards.  He was terrified of bringing a child into their
world, a world of danger and menace.  But that was when he loved her --
before he fell in love with her. 

After their first night together, Mulder found himself wanting a
child.  He wanted to give her whatever she desired -- a child, a normal
life, even if it meant giving up his quest.  The fact that they had
found each other just a little after he had learned the truth about
Samantha's ultimate fate had helped.  He'd told her the truth in the
parking lot of the little cafe in California -- he really did feel like
he was at last free.  Free to love and be loved.  

He poured all the love he felt for her into his actions.  She was
quivering with passion, moaning with the unbridled pleasure his tongue
and lips were providing her.  He sought out the tiny bud of nerves and
tugged it between his lips, suckling it as he had her nipple moments
before and she was lost, exploding and imploding right before his eyes. 
He'd never seen her look more beautiful.

 Mulder quickly crawled up to lie beside her and gather her in his
arms.  He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead until she melted
boneless against the pillow and his forearm.  Slowly she opened her
eyes, her sated smile all the reassurance of her love he would ever need. 

"That was . . . well, I don't want to say 'well worth the wait'," she
chuckled.  "That was . . . incredible." 

"Not bad for a guy pushing forty," he said. 

"But the party isn't over," she reminded him.  Her hand traced down his
arm, over his hip and took his length in her palm.  "We'll see what we
have in store for you." 

He stopped her hand and bit his bottom lip between his teeth.  "Scully,
as much as I really love it when you do that -- it will bring this party
to a grinding halt real fast."   

He moved over her, about to move between her legs when he stopped.  "Is
there a problem?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.   

"Um, maybe.  Since we didn't think we could have children -- and we
sure never bothered to use anything to prevent it before . . ." 

She chuckled again and reached over him to the tiny cabinet that served
as a headboard.  The box she pulled out was a new label, but a brand he
recognized.   

She smiled up at him.  "Got it covered.  Did you know that Missy and
Bill are only one year and two days apart in age?" she asked sweetly.   

"So I guess that means they aren't technically 'Irish Twins'," he
quipped. 

"Oh, you've heard of those, have you?" 

"The Vineyard had its share of people of Irish decent, Scully," he
reminded her.  "However, I would prefer it if any sibling of William's
was a little farther in the future."  He turned the box over in his
hands.  "Now, it's been a while since I've encountered one of these
devices.  I guess it's like riding a bike, though, huh?" 

She took the box from him and opened it, deftly pulling out a plastic
wrapped disk.  "Let me do the honors?" 

"That would be a pleasure," he sighed, lying back on the pillow. 

She tore open the packet with her teeth and Mulder thought the
afternoon would be over that very minute.  Her tiny hands rolled the
condom on his length and he gritted his teeth to keep control.  Finally,
she was finished and she sat back on her haunches to admire her work. 

He looked down his body.  "It's colored," he said dubiously.   

She shrugged.  "I grabbed the first box I found on the shelf.  I didn't
really look that closely." 

"I like it," he decided.  "It's kinky.  Like you."  Then he took her by
the shoulders and flipped her on her back so that she was lying on the
bed and he was poised over her again.   

"I'm kinky," she giggled.  "Oh, sure.  Blame it all on me." 

"If you hadn't been such a damned sexy woman, Scully, I wouldn't have
needed all those videos or those leather cleaning bills for my couch,"
he told her sternly, but the twinkle in his eye exposed the lie for what
it was. 

"Less talk, Mulder.  More action," she demanded and pulled him down
into a scorching kiss. 

His first thrust in was tight and a little painful, but they both
stilled and soon Scully urged him to move.  The condom was just enough
to take the edge off the sensation and he managed to control his release
a little longer.  Scully hands dug into his biceps -- it hurt and felt
wonderful at the same time.  He leaned down and kissed her deeply.  When
she screamed out his name, he found himself joining her in release. 

They calmed down after a few moments; sweat drying on their bodies. 
Mulder rolled off her, but not before showering her with kisses on her
face and neck.  Scully ran her thumb over his lips, swollen from their
kisses.  "I love you," she whispered. 

He bit his lip but the sob broke through his resolve.  Before she knew
what was happening, Tears were streaming down his face and she was
hugging him and stroking his back.  "Mulder, what is it, what's wrong." 

He drew in a shaking breath and then slowly turned so that he was
holding her gently against him.  "I guess, Scully, I know you've told me
that you love me, but I've always said it first.  It was always in
response to my statement, my declaration.  And I was fine with that.  I
never once doubted that you do love me.  But just now -- that was the
first time you said it first.  And that just blew me away."  He grabbed
for the tissues she'd earlier discarded.  "Um, real mood killer, aren't
I?" he tried to joke. 

She kissed him, several times, first on the eyelids and then his
cheeks, drying his tears.  Finally she pulled back and looked at him. 
"I will always love you, Mulder.  Always and forever.  When I say it
first, when I say it after you, even when I forget to say it at all. 
Always." 

He nodded, kissing her forehead.  "I guess 'me too' would sound a
little trite." 

She socked him gently in the arm.  "Enough of this.  I was promised a
nap and I intend to have it.  Now quiet down, quit blubbering," she
said, pulling his arm around her as she rolled on her side away from
him.  "And if the baby wakes up -- it's your turn to get him." 

"Scully," he said as he spooned against her back, "you always say the
most romantic things." 

The Next Morning 

Scully woke up the next morning to find the other side of the bed
empty.  She stretched and yawned, listening closely.  No sound of
singing, no sounds of any kind.  She shook her head.  Even after six
weeks, it was difficult to get used to her two early birds. 

Their nap the day before had done wonders, both for her body and her
spirits.  It was the first time they'd been together since his return.
There were moments back then when her confidence lagged and she thought
he saw her as repulsive in her pregnant state.  But one look from him,
those 'I adore you' looks she'd seen on his face for years convinced her
that wasn't the case.  Now she knew the problem had been both of them,
dealing with everything separately when they should have been dealing
with it all together. 

They'd made love a second time during the night.  Muscles that hadn't
been used were a little sore as she rolled out of bed.  She sniffed the
air and smiled.  At least Mulder had made coffee.  Since the trailer's
electric was tricky at best, they'd purchased a small coffee press.  It
had taken some time to get the hang of it, but Mulder had taken on the
task with relish and now she was certain she wouldn't want to go back to
coffee that came from a machine.   

When she wandered in to the kitchen, she found he'd also left a note
next to the press.  "Scully, went hunting.  Be back with breakfast." 
She frowned, not liking the sounds of that at all!  William was too tiny -- 

Just then the front door opened and Mulder breezed in, William in his
'snuggly' pack strapped to his father's chest.  "Morning, beautiful." 
Mulder smiled and kissed her softly before wiggling out of the pack. 
Second hand stores had become their salvation, Scully thought as she
gently extracted the baby from the carrier. 

"Mulder, would you like to explain this note?" she asked, nodding
toward the paper on the table.  

 William was asleep so she took him in to lie down in his crib.  When
she returned, Mulder had set the table with two bowls of cereal and
milk.  At least the refrigerator and air conditioning worked in the
trailer.  The daytime temperatures frequently soared above 100 degrees. 

He smiled and handed her the rucksack he'd bought on their last foray
to the Good Will in Alamagordo.  "Prickly Pear," he announced, as she
cautiously hoisted the fruit up for closer inspection. 

"Cactus," she equivocated. dropping it back in the sack. 

"C'mon Scully.  I saw it on the Food Network," he shot back, taking the
fruit to the kitchen counter.  He started rummaging through the
silverware drawer. 

"You saw how to make pasta with squid ink on the Food Network, and
we're not eating that, either," she reminded him. 

"Give it a chance." 

"Everything that goes in my mouth eventually goes into your son,
Mulder.  I'll stick to the bananas and Kashi we bought the other day." 

"So, what's on the agenda today?" he asked, his finger in his mouth
where he'd acquired one of the cactus needles.   

"Oh, you know, bathe, diaper, feed, nap -- the usual.  Mulder, what are
we doing here?  How long are we going to be hiding?" 

He sighed and turned to face her, leaning against the counter.  "I
don't know exactly.  I told the guys we probably wouldn't be in contact
for a while.  Basically, we're on our own." 

"In a rented dilapidated trailer in the middle of the desert," she
intoned with a frown.  "With a well of questionable duration," she
added, pushing her bowl away and folding her arms. 

"I think . . .  I think we need to make some long term plans. 
Contingency plans." 

"I'm all for that," she said.  "How much money do we have left in the
drawer?" 

He went to the bottom drawer and pulled out a tin shaped like Shea
Stadium.  Shaking it, he came over to sit across from her at the table. 
"Sounds like . . . twelve hundred and some change," he said in his best
Kreskin voice. 

"That won't last long," she sighed.  "Where do we go next?" 

"We'd probably do better going south, in to Mexico," he said with a
shrug.  "The money would go farther in some of the rural areas." 

She chewed on her lip.  "Yeah, where health care is next to
non-existent." 

"The alternative is to pop our heads up long enough to get cash and
head north." 

"Canada is so cold with winter coming on soon," she countered. 

"Scully, what do you suggest," he said, trying to keep the exasperation
out of his tone. 

She stood up and started to pace the small kitchen.  "I guess I feel
like we should be working on something, anything . . . like the vaccine." 

"We have no equipment, and that would cost a fortune to capitalize," he
noted.  "Not to mention we'd be tossing up red flags all over the place." 

"The guys have no leads on anyone who could help us -- or anyone we
could be helping?" she asked, leaning against the counter he'd just
vacated. 

"Nothing they were willing to share last time.  They are working on it,
Scully.  It just takes time." 

"OK, we go south.  But not too far.  I don't want to be in the jungle." 

"I'll go out to the car and get the maps.  I'm sure we can find
something." 

She looked around the small trailer.  "Gee, I might almost miss this
place," she joked. 

He aped a grin at her.  "No you won't.  You're' taking me and William
with you." 

Turkey Run Park

Northern Virginia

10:46 pm 

Doggett leaned against his car, stewing.  He was furious with himself
for being so easily eluded, but more than that, he was nervous about
what was about to transpire.  His first face to face -- and it wasn't to
congratulate him on a job well done. 

He'd torn the cabin apart, literally, looking for clues.  Of course,
there were none.  Scully's car had been found at a used car lot in
Elizabethtown, Kentucky, but the seller had not traded it in.  It had
been a cash deal since the owner had clear title according to the DMV in
DC.  No other car dealer in the area had made a cash sale that day or
any day that week.  The trail that should have been red hot was now ice
cold. 

It didn't help matters that he was forced to keep up appearances.  He
and Reyes had been on three cases since Mulder and Scully's
disappearance.  More than anything he wanted to drop the charade, tell
Kersh to stick it up his ass or better yet, put a bullet in the sucker's
brain.  But repeated attempts to plead his case with his faceless higher
ups had gone unheeded.  His superiors made it clear that he was to stay
in the FBI and more specifically the X files Division at all costs.  The
last call he'd received informed him of a time and place for a meeting. 
That's why he was standing in deep fog near the bank of the Potomac
River waiting . . . 

"You aren't contemplating jumping, are you, John?" came a voice from
the darkness.  He drew in a breath as Alex Krycek appeared out of the
clouds of moisture. 

"Shit, you startled me," Doggett said, easing his hand away from his
weapon.  "They sent you?" 

"I am higher up the food chain, John," Krycek reminded him.  "So, you
fucked it up again.  That's twice, John.  Three strikes and you're out,
you know." 

"I went with the best intel I had at the time," Doggett protested
angrily.  "Someone must have tipped them off!" 

"Ya think?" Krycek shot back sarcastically.  "This isn't G.I. Joes in
the backyard, John.  Mulder is alive today because he's smarter than
anyone who has ever gone against him.  From where I'm standing, he's
smarter than you." 

Doggett narrowed his eyes and wondered at the consequences of a
headshot in the other man's right eye. 

"It would be the last move you ever made, John," Krycek said amiably. 
That sent another shiver down his spine -- Doggett had no idea what
powers this guy had, if any, but reading minds seemed to be on the list. 

"So what do we do?" Doggett growled. 

"Well, this is where the real fun starts," Krycek said, holding up a
small vial.  

"What is that thing?" 

"A replica of the chip in Dana Scully's neck," Krycek offered, handing
him the vial.   

"Is it a homing device?  Why the hell didn't you tell me?" 

"Not a homing device, per se.  It's more of a . . . I guess dog whistle
is a bit crass.  But the point is, if we activate the chip, Scully will
come to us." 

"So why haven't you activated it already?" Doggett demanded. 

"There would still be the issue of the baby.  See, Scully would have an
undeniable urge to go wherever we directed.  But she wouldn't
necessarily bring the baby with her.  In fact, we're pretty sure she
would leave both Mulder and the baby behind." 

"But she would tell us where they are -- once we interrogated her,"
Doggett suggested. 

"I'm sure, under the appropriate amount of 'inducements', she could be
persuaded to give us that information," Krycek agreed smugly. 

"How soon can it be activated?" Doggett asked, returning the vial to
Krycek's good hand. 

"It will be activated as soon as you're in position.  It might take a
while for her to arrive, you understand, but since we have no idea of
their location, we can't take the chance that we won't be ready." 

Doggett nodded.  "Will there be a facility or will we have to move her?" 

"It will all be waiting there."  He reached into his pocket for an
envelope and handed it to John. 

Doggett looked at the contents -- a plane ticket and a map, and over
the roof of the car to the river rushing nearby.  "You know, Mulder will
try and stop her from leaving." 

Krycek smiled.  "Don't worry.  She'll kill him if he tries.  She won't
even realize who he is, simply that he's standing between her and her
destination." 

"Would she harm the baby?" 

"I'm sure Mulder won't let the baby anywhere near her when he figures
out what's happening.  He'll try to stop her himself.  And that will be
his ultimate undoing." 

"Damn, I wanted to kill him myself," Doggett groused. 

"Don't worry, John.  If you don't manage to screw this up, too, at
least you'll have your prize at the end.  Scully, all yours and wrapped
up with the big bow." 

For the first time in weeks, John Doggett actually smiled. 

To be continued