87 Shades of Black III: Night Sky By Slippin’ Mickeys red_phile@yahoo.com Classification: MSR, Series Rating: PG-13 Summary: Part three in the series “87 Shades of Black.” Just when you think you’re out, they suck you back in. Spoilers: Nada. Disclaimer: If we lived in a communist community, I wouldn’t have to write this. But we don’t, so I do. They belong to Chris Carter, although they should belong to everyone. And they kind of do. But anyway, not mine. No money. So sad. Oh yeah, and the entire first paragraph comes from the mind of Tom Clancy, not Slippin’ Mickeys. I read it and it fit so perfectly that I had to steal it. So I did. The names were changed to protect the characters. Again, I’m begging not to be sued. :) Archive: Ask, and I’ll most likely give you permission. Trust me. Feedback: Feed me. Oh yes, feed me. red_phile@yahoo.com 87 Shades of Black Part III: Night Sky By Slippin’ Mickeys It had to be the shock of the moment, Mulder thought. He seemed to be two people at the same time. One part of him looked out the window of the lunchroom of CNN’s Washington bureau and saw the fires that grew from the remains of the Capitol building—yellow points springing up from an orange glow like some sort of ghastly floral arrangement, representing over a thousand lives that had been snuffed out not an hour earlier. Numbness suppressed grief for the moment, though he knew that would come, too, as pain always followed a hard blow to the face, but not right away. Once more, Death in all its horrid majesty had reached out for him. He’d seen it come, and stop, and withdraw, and the best thing to be said about it was that his children didn’t know how to close their young lives had come to an early conclusion. To them, it had simply been an accident they didn’t understand. They were with their mother now, and they’d feel safe in her company while their father was away somewhere. It was a situation to which both they and he long since had unhappily become accustomed. And so Fox William Mulder looked at the residue of Death, and one part of him as yet felt nothing. XxXxXxXxXxX The event, or string of events actually, that brought Mulder back to Washington D.C. were set into motion almost before he had left the Capitol city 5 years earlier. And because of these events, he found himself, 5 years older, 2 mortgages later, and with a considerably larger family than he had left with, looking over the city he used to call home with a long face and nasty feeling deep in his gut. Colonization had begun, or at least he thought it had, and no one even knew it yet. XxXxXxXxXxX 4 Years, 6 Months Earlier: The flat, gray landscape passed Scully’s window, seemingly unchanging. They could have been travelling in a circle for the past two hours and not have been able to tell the difference. The only thing that seemed to change were the mile markers. But the monotony of the trip didn’t bother her. In fact, it calmed her. This trip wasn’t business, though she hadn’t been on one of those in months. It was a vacation pure and simple, and the best part was that Mulder was still sitting beside her. Driving. He glanced over at her and smiled, turning on his headlights. The days had been getting steadily longer, but it was still dark by 5:30. They hadn’t gotten on the road that morning until well after noon, and had to head back to the house twice to retrieve things they’d forgotten to bring. It had been a spur of the moment trip, but luckily, they hadn’t left the city limits of Ann Arbor on either occasion. “Were they worried when you called in sick?” He asked her, turning the radio down so they could talk. There hadn’t been anything but country and NPR on for the past hour, anyway. “Yes,” she answered, “but I ‘fessed up and told them I needed a vacation day today and Monday, and they didn’t seem to mind. Dr. Prasad is there anyway.” “The two of you still getting along?” “Fabulously.” Scully had been introduced to Seema Prasad the week before. Her superiors had wanted to bring in another doctor to the Pathology department later in the year, but Scully’s announcement of her pregnancy after her first trimester had spurred them into hiring the Indian woman early, so that the position would be filled when it came time for Scully to give birth. The two women had had instant chemistry and their first day working together, two different lab technicians had come into the room they’d been in, to see what the uproarious laughter had been about. She was going to be sorry to leave the woman behind in the spring, even if it was only for maternity leave. “That’s good,” Mulder nodded to himself, “I guess we’re both lucky I don’t have any Friday classes.” “What about your office hours?” Scully hedged. “Eh, nobody comes, anyway.” “Mulder,” she warned, her tone almost surprised. “What?” He said, chancing a look in her direction, “I asked Kayla to be there for me. It’s not like anybody is going to show, anyway.” He’d mumbled the last sentence and Scully ignored it, instead teasing him about the previous. “Kayla, huh?” “Do you have a preoccupation with my teaching assistant, Scully? Every time I mention her you get that weird little tone of voice. ” “I don’t have any kind of preoccupation with your TA, Mulder, but she certainly has one with you.” “What are you talking about?” He asked. Scully shook her head, Mulder’s powers of perception were distinctly selective. “She so obviously has a crush on you, Professor Mulder.” Mulder looked a bit startled for a moment, but then turned to her with that shit-eating smirk of his. “Jealous?” He asked. “Of her crush?” Scully feigned incredulity, “Of course not. I’ve got one of my own.” With that, she put on a smirk of her own and reveled in the pleasant hum and heat inside the van that had nothing to do with the climate control system. XxXxXxXxXxX Vance Carson looked up from the steaming cup of coffee in his hands and took a deep breath of fresh air. It was the first time that winter that his nostrils actually threatened to stick together. The winter had been cold, but mildly so, and Sharper & Earnest, the shipping company he worked for, had started their vessels out on the Lakes for spring that week. He’d been a lakeman for the better part of his 37 years and had been crew aboard a ship in February only once before in all of them. His captain, Sean McTierney, had been wary about shoving off from Chicago three days before, but had agreed that if the weather didn’t change, they’d certainly stand to make a great deal of money from the amount of iron ore they could deliver in the months they had until next November. None of the bays on the Lakes had frozen over that he knew of, except for a few, far to the north on the shores of Lake Superior. The bow of the William Joely made slow headway through the waters of Lake Michigan, slowed by the icebreaking fixture firmly affixed to the forward hull. Though it had slowed their progress to Detroit, Captain McTierney had refused to leave the Chicago pier without it. Vance peered over the bow, only an hour left on his watch duty, and then back along the 300 feet of ship to the William Joely’s stern. A lone light shone in the upper deck in the cabin, indicating that Bruce Abbott, the first mate of the ship and helmsman of the moment was still manning his station. Vance pulled his wool knit cap lower over his ears and made his way down the ladder and along the ships side, glancing down at the clamps holding down the 3,000 pound hatches that covered their shipment of ore, assuring himself that they were all clamped securely. He glanced over the edge of the ship, down at the dark water of the lake, and up at the shore several miles away, a very few lights shining in the dark of the early February morning. He threw up a silent thank you to the saints that looked over seafaring men and the ships they sailed on, that the water had remained calm, the only waves that lapped at the ship’s hull only a few feet high at their peak. The last thing the ship would need was the wind and waves picking up as they made their way through the Straits of Mackinac and into Lake Huron, halfway to Detroit, and halfway home. The sooner the ship made port, the better, thought Vance. He’d had a bad feeling about the early spring trip since he’d received the phone call from Bruce the week before, asking if he’d crew. Glancing at his watch again, which he found he’d done far more frequently in his younger days, showed that the time was 3:45 am, leaving him only 45 more minutes until his watch was over and he could retire down below where warm sheets and warmer temperatures were beckoning his tired body. Halfway to the helm now, he paused for a moment. Wondering if his ears were deceiving him. He stood stock still, listening raptly for the humming he’d thought he’d heard over the port side of the ship. After a moment, he shook his head, mentally berating himself for thinking he heard anything over the reverberating engines below him, and the waves methodically breaking over the ship’s bow. However, a few minutes later, as he was climbing the metal staircase that lead to the helm, he heard it again, undeniably. Climbing back down, he moved to the rail along the ship’s port side, his head cocked and ears attentive. It was a low, throbbing sound, and he could only guess that it was coming from somewhere in the water. The humming intensified, and he brought up the small binoculars he kept in his front pocket to his eyes. The only illumination of the night was the Cheshire Cat moon smiling down on him, and the stars, plentiful outside the light pollution that dulled their luminance in the cities far to the south. The scant light illuminated nothing out on the water, and yet the humming seemed to increase in intensity and volume. Vance reached for the Motorola radio handset attached to his belt, and put in a call to Bruce up in the cockpit. “Bruce, this is Vance, come back, over.” The radio crackled a moment, a strange feedback emanating from it that lasted not two seconds, and then with Bruce’s voice. “Vance, what can I do for you this fine morning, over.” “Are you hearing this? Over.” Vance spoke, his breath puffing bursts of steam that settled white and thin on the black plastic of the radio. “Other than the engines?” Bruce said, his tone confused. “Over.” “Yep,” Vance responded. “Over.” “Sorry, buddy. I’m not hearing anything. I’m directly over the engines. Over.” Vance paused for a moment, squinting out over the water, and brought the radio back to his mouth. “Are you picking up anything on the radar? I swear I hear something out there. Over.” Bruce Abbott set down his handset on the countertop in the cockpit and made his way over to the radar console. The display showed nothing out of the ordinary, but as he was about to turn back toward the radio, the display went black, and then flashed back on with a loud beep. Momentarily confused, Bruce paused, and reached for the portable radio. As he was doing so, the power in the cabin shut off, and the customary rumble of the engines below him went completely dead and silent. “What the hell…” He said to himself, and then he made his way to door leading out to the deck of the ship. He opened the door and took a step out, about to swing down and onto the small ladder descending down to the deck, when he froze. Below him, he saw Vance Carson frozen in place also, gazing out over the water to the port side. Following Vance’s line of sight, Bruce saw it too. Under the water, about 200 yards off the ship was a yellow light, shining brightly under the murky water of the lake, nearly the size of a large truck. Bruce heard the humming then, it seemed to be emanating from the light. Instantly, the light—whatever it was, came speeding toward them, faster than any kind of marine craft Bruce had ever seen, and shot underneath the ship’s hull, pausing without effect now, not twenty feet off of the ship’s starboard side. “What the hell is that thing, Bruce?!” Vance shouted to his first mate, staring dumbfounded over the hulk of the ship and at the unidentified object just under the water’s surface. Bruce couldn’t speak and merely shook his head, his eyes not moving from the craft. Just then, the object, it’s luminescence still an eerie yellow moved slowly aft of the ship, and then the water above it parted, and the craft rose up slowly out of the lake. It’s shade of light shifted then to fiery blue, and the light that shone from it grew brighter and brighter. It rose up slowly over the hulking ship and hovered above it, water pouring over it’s sides and splashing coldly onto the steel of the freighter. Bruce shifted a little toward the door of the cockpit, unsure if he should move, but fright spurred him on, and he moved backward slowly. Suddenly he jumped, adrenaline shooting through his veins, as the ship’s power shot back on, and the engines below him roared to life. XxXxXxXxXxX “It’s beautiful up here,” Scully said, her hand wrapping around the water glass in front of her, as her eyes cast out the large bay window they were seated in front of. “It’s beautiful in here,” Mulder countered quickly. Scully was quick to notice that he hadn’t looked around the restaurant at all when he’d said it, his eyes remaining steadfastly on her. She turned to him slowly, regarding his enigmatic smile with small one of her own. “You’re flirty tonight,” she said without pretense. Mulder merely shrugged at her and went back to eating his entrée of grilled whitefish and garlic potatoes. Scully took another sip from her water glass and then rose to excuse herself for the third time that evening. “I should really stop drinking that water,” she said, rising. She made no effort to tell Mulder where she was going- frequent bathroom breaks were old-hat that night, already. Nevertheless, Mulder still rose when she got up, the gentlemanly gesture bringing a smile to her face as she walked away. Gender equality aside, she loved when men did that. Mulder sat back down as she made her way to the restroom and leaned back in his chair, satisfied—his stomach and heart both full. The spontaneity of this trip had surprised him coming from Scully, but he’d agreed that it was just what the doctor ordered, so to speak. He’d been actively seducing Scully for the past few odd months. The kiss they’d shared earlier in the week merely a prelude to what he’d been planning. Despite what they’d lost, domestic bliss had satisfied a part of Mulder he thought had long since dissipated. It had been difficult to adjust at first to his new way of life. To switch gears so quickly from single-minded truth seeker to a normal professional American. But he’d concentrated on Scully, and marveled in what they’d always had but hadn’t yet discovered. The fact that she was pregnant, the fact that the child was his, struck an awe in him that pushed the lingering thoughts of regret completely out of the picture. True, the consequences that had brought about their current situation and her pregnancy had been anything but ideal and not the least bit planned, but the 180 of their lives fit them both surprisingly well. They’d discussed recently what the future held for them, and how it affected the search for the truth that they both had never really stopped thinking about. Mulder had thought about it long and hard, and decided that the best thing to be done was nothing at all. He had bigger fish to fry at the moment, in the form of the woman that crossed the room to him right then, and the child in her belly. Mulder rose and pulled her seat out for her, a gesture to which she gave him a sideways glance for, but accepted nonetheless. He reseated himself and speared an asparagus that was threatening to fall off of his plate. The smoking man, Krycek, and whoever else was involved in placing them in their current situation had been correct in predicting the tailspin that resulted from what they’d done— kidnapped and impregnated Scully and then effectively using it as leverage to force them both to give up—but what they hadn’t counted on, never counted on, was that the action only spurred them both on further in their desire to find out the truth. And while this certainly slowed their progress, and brought about the added obstacle of a child to protect, it only added fuel to the fire of their hunger to carry on. And carry on they would, Mulder mused, but only after he’d figured out a sufficient way of protecting the child, Scully, and lastly himself from the dangers that delving back into anything X- Files was sure to bring about. He’d been promised that much from the smoking man himself. “Third time the charm?” Mulder asked quietly from behind his pint of beer. “I certainly hope so,” Scully responded, “I’m surprised my pork chop isn’t cold.” “I held it over the candle while you were gone,” Mulder lied. Scully merely smiled at him and Mulder again sat back and looked out the window before him, pushing his empty plate toward centerpiece. “Full?” Scully asked in between bites. Mulder nodded and gazed out over the bay that the restaurant sat on. The boat slips were all empty throughout the pier, and the breakwater spread out just beyond them, reaching out into the water toward the horizon. The breakwall served no purpose at the moment, as there were no boats to protect, and eerily no pounding waves to protect them from. The small white lighthouse that sat at the end of it flashed it’s red-lighted beacon morosely into the dusky sky, the crescent moon rising up behind it. “It’s getting late,” Mulder said, leaning forward onto his elbows and looking at Scully over folded hands. “Any dessert tonight?” “I think I might,” Scully said, surprising him. He cocked his head and looked at her—she never usually ordered dessert and it made him wonder what other surprises she had in store for him that night. “The tiramisu looks good.” She finished her dinner and ordered one when the waitress came to clear their plates. They finished it off quickly with the two spoons she brought with it, and Scully went to retrieve their coats while Mulder paid. She met him at the door and offered him his new coat, shoving on an endearing knit cap while he put it on. They stepped out and onto the sidewalk, a blast of cold air hitting them full force from the lake as they exited. Mulder paused and blew into fists. “What I wouldn’t give for valet right about now,” he said. Scully simply grabbed his hand and pulled him around the side of the building and up the street to where they’d parked the car, not even a block from the restaurant. “Sissy,” she said conspiratorially as she crossed to the passenger side of their van. Mulder held up the keys in front of him and squinted his eyes at her. “You know, if you weren’t pregnant,” he said, finally hitting the unlock button on them, “I’d take my sweet time.” XxXxXxXxXxX Mulder dropped Scully off at the enormous front door of the resort which they’d checked into earlier that evening, and parked the car in the parking lot around the side of it. As he walked back toward the hotel, his fists shoved deep in his pockets for warmth, he took in the serenity that surrounded him. The sounds of the forest that entreated upon the rugged resort, were muffled by a thick blanket of snow that covered everything from the roof of the hotel to hills that stretched skyward to the east. He could barely make out the soft sound of the surf of Lake Michigan beyond the resort to the west. Their room had a spectacular view of the lake, which stretched out to the horizon and further beyond that. Mulder guessed that the resort would be teaming with people in the summertime, eager to partake in the sandy beaches and dunes that stretched as far as the eye could see to the north and south. As it were though, the only other tourists in the area were a few skiers that seemed to be more interested in the limited nightlife of the city nearby in which they had eaten dinner, than the rugged forests and deserted white beaches that surrounded them here. Mulder only hoped that the revelers weren’t too loud returning when the bars closed at 2am. He’d gotten enough of that living in the student district in Ann Arbor. He then wondered when exactly it was that he’d gotten so damn old. He breathed in the peace while it lasted, and reached for the large ornate door that lead into the reception area of the resort. Scully was there waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the fireplace that sat in the middle of it, staring at the flames as they licked her face with warmth and light. When she looked up to him staring at her, she flashed him a smile that rivaled the light of the fire and stood. “You know what time the slopes open tomorrow?” She said, matching her step with his as they made their way to the staircase that led to their second floor suite. “Who cares,” Mulder said, shifting his right hand to the small of her back, “we’re on vacation.” “Free lift tickets, Mulder,” she said, slowing her progress and turning to him a little. “My point exactly,” he answered, “we didn’t have to pay, we can use them at our leisure.” “Someone is looking forward to sleeping in,” Scully intoned, not without humor, as she pulled out the key card from her coat pocket and slid it expertly in the door. “I’m looking forward to more than that,” he responded enigmatically, slipping into the bathroom as soon as he closed the door behind him. When he emerged, he found Scully sitting on the sofa that faced their elongated balcony with her shoes and socks unceremoniously piled next to her on the floor. Her eyes were closed, and Mulder walked quietly over, not sure if she was dozing or merely resting her eyes. When the couch dipped from his added weight at the other side, her eyes fluttered open, stayed warmly on him for a moment and then shifted toward the balcony and stayed there. There wasn’t much to see out of the window, but she gazed at what beauty she could. Mulder did the same, occasionally stealing glances at the beauty inside the room as well. After a deep, contented sigh, Scully unfurled her legs and dropped her feet into Mulder’s lap, sinking deeper into the couch. “I’m glad we did this,” she said with a soft voice. “It seems freeing somehow, getting away from it all.” “How do you mean?” Mulder asked in an equally gentle tone, genuinely curious. “I don’t know,” Scully floundered for a second, stretching her legs and feet out in Mulder’s lap and giving her toes a good curl before relaxing. Mulder took it as a hint and picked one of her feet up, beginning to gently massage it. “I think,” she began again with a quick smile of thanks to him, “I think it’s just that we were thrown into this so quickly and it was such a big adjustment that we immediately got into habits and ways of doing things without having ever taken a step back to look at the big picture. I guess I see this get-away as an opportunity to do just that.” Mulder nodded his agreement at her and picked up her other foot, giving it equal treatment. “And in this picture,” he said, moving his gaze from her face to his lap, “what do you see?” For the first time in a long time, Scully got the impression that Mulder was a harboring more than a little hope, but instead of pursuing it as he’d been doing lately, he kept it to himself in a boyish way that more than a little endearing. “I see you,” she answered, “I see me. But I can’t quite make out the rest.” “Well,” Mulder said, setting her feet down on the couch next to him with purpose, “let’s see if we can’t clarify it, then.” With that, he crawled up the couch along the length of her body like a cat and stopped when they were eye to eye. “How about that?” He asked, giving her a soft, quick peck on the end of her nose. She fanned her fingers through his hair on either side of his head and answered him with a wicked flattering of eyelashes and a predatory kiss. XxXxXxXxXxX Scully came awake slowly to the feel of Mulder’s hot breath across her bare neck. She could tell by the way he was breathing that he was awake. She rolled over slowly, stretching her naked body languorously while she moved. When she was fully turned over, she was met with a large smile and sleepy eyes. Mulder’s head was propped up on his arm and the sheets were pulled down far enough on his body to reveal most of his torso. Scully enjoyed the sight for a moment before she spoke. “Hey,” she said in a quiet, scratchy voice, “what time is it?” “A little after three,” Mulder answered, reaching across to push a piece of hair back from her forehead, his eyes following his actions. “What are you doing awake?” Scully asked him on a yawn. He regarded her for a moment, resting his other hand on her distending belly for a moment before he lifted his eyes to hers. “Come on,” he said, slipping toward her side of the bed in an effort to get her to get out of the bed as well, “I want to show you something.” She acquiesced, however reluctant to leave the warmth of the covers, and he immediately followed. She stood next to him for a moment while he grabbed the large goose down quilt from the bed and wrapped it around both of their shoulders, taking her hand and leading her toward the balcony. Once they were up to it, he lifted his hand out and pointed to the sky just above the lake and trees to the right. “Look,” he said. Scully’s eyes followed his finger and she saw it. Above the treeline that skirted the lodge and a bit of the shoreline, the Northern Lights were dancing in the sky, yellow, green, and blue. She stood for a moment with him, watching the lights play across the vast expanse, and then turned to him. “Let’s go out there,” she said, “along the shore. I bet they’re amazing from out there.” Mulder suddenly looked at her as though she’d grown another head, and said, “we’re naked.” She ignored the look and walked out from under the down comforter, enjoying the feel of the cold air on her naked skin as she walked to the armoire. “Then get dressed,” she said simply. XxXxXxXxXxX The snow crunched under their feet as they made slow progress toward the lodge’s staircase that led down to the lakeshore. Luckily, they found that someone had had the decency to salt the steps, and it made the going easier when they reached them. As they descended the few steps and stepped out onto the shore, the dark sand mixing with the dusting of snow that ensconced the beach, Scully sucked in a quick breath. The lights were even more brilliant from the vantage point on the shore, and lit up the northern sky almost like fireworks. Scully missed the accompanying noise they would bring, but only for a second, and reveled in the sight before her and utter silence around her. Mulder stood just beside and behind her, and rested his hands on her hips, his warm breath fanning over her hair. He watched the lights dance in equal silence, his fingers flexing and squeezing her hips every so often, letting her know he was enjoying the show just as much as she was. The water was exceptionally calm at that moment, and only made an occasional lapping noise far out to sea. After a few minutes however, Mulder found that the sound seemed to be increasing in frequency and volume, and turned his gaze from the lights in the north to the water stretching in expanse to the west. At first, he could see nothing, almost ready to ascribe to sounds to breezes blowing across the lake, when movement caught his eye. In the black of the night, he never would have seen it, but with the stars and the moon, and the brilliance of the Northern Lights playing off of the water, he could see it. A black shape coming steadily closer to the shore, low to the water. At once, Mulder grabbed Scully by the arm and moved her behind him, shielding her from the object as best he could. She opened her mouth to ask him just what the hell he was doing when he turned to her and brought his finger to his lips, pointing quickly to the shape on the water. At first confused, Scully scanned the water and saw nothing, but then, she saw it too, and tugged a little on Mulder’s arm, trying to step around him a bit so she could better see. “I think it’s boat,” she said at a whisper. His attempt to shield her irritated her a bit and she tried to move closer to the water to get a better look. Mulder grabbed her arm and gave her an apologetic grin. “Maybe if you had your gun,” he said, barely at a whisper. They both then turned back to the object and saw that it was, indeed a boat. A small life boat by the looks of it, and off of a flash of reflected moonlight, they could see the oar dip into the water frantically, the lapping sounds on its hull getting louder and more frenetic. “Hello!” Mulder then shouted out over the water. Scully grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and in return, he turned to her. “Who the *hell* would be out on the water in February?” He asked her. She merely shook her head and continued to watch as the craft moved closer. “Hello!” Mulder shouted again, louder this time. Suddenly, they could make out a head as it popped up to the bow of the small craft and they heard scraping and shifting against it’s hull. “Hell… Hello!!” A voice called back at them. “Are you okay?” Mulder shouted back in a voice meant to sound friendly and helpful, but he took a step back away from the water and pulled Scully with him nonetheless. “Help me!” The voice shouted, the oar dipping back into the water frantically and sending the boat lurching forward until it ground against the sand and rocks near the shore. The man in the boat then rocketed himself over the side and splashed into the frigid water, running at them. “Help me!” It shouted again. “You gotta, you gotta help me!” With that, the man collapsed into a shivering heap on top of the mix of sand and snow. Scully brushed by Mulder and leaned down to help him, Mulder on her heels. “My name is Carson,” he said through chattering lips, “Vance Carson. I crew on the William Joely and you gotta help me. You gotta help them!” XxXxXxXxXxX Mulder sat at the table in the small dining area and ruminated about the night before as he waited for Scully to come down for breakfast. After nearly ten minutes of getting the man to try to calm down, and follow them inside the lodge to get warm, they finally did have him sitting by the fire with a blanket around his shoulders, and the sheriff on the way. They had to wait another 45 minutes after that for the sheriff to get their statements and actually process what exactly had happened. It took no small amount of coaching from Mulder. It had been a long night for both of them, and each was equally wary of what had actually happened. They had decided to skip the skiing, sleep late, do some shopping around the Marina District and leave a day early. The threat, no matter how unlikely, and the import of the UFO tale that Vance Carson had spun had made them wary, Scully especially so, and the mood and ambiance of the weekend had been sufficiently broken. Fucking figures, Mulder thought, as he looked around the fairly full dining area and signaled to the waitress that he needed a little more coffee. As soon as you stop looking for a UFO, one comes along and finds you. As much as it seemed to scare Scully, it intrigued Mulder, but warily so. The waitress came by once more and asked if he was ready to order. “Not quite yet,” he said, “I’m still waiting for someone.” “Will your wife want some coffee too?” She asked, and he didn’t bother correcting her assumption, he rather liked it. “I think so,” he answered, “but decaf.” The waitress nodded and went off in search of the decaffeinated carafe, and Mulder leaned back once again, looking around the room. Two men were seated to the table immediately to his left, and their conversation caught his attention. “I can’t believe what happened here last night,” the man on the left said, reaching for his bagel and smothering more cream cheese than was necessary on it. “I know,” the other man answered, flashing the other man’s bagel a look of disgust as if he’d just been told it contained a highly infectious strain of leprosy. “It’s crazy,” the other man continued. “But I heard that the man’s ship was anchored in the bay in Petoskey this morning. The kids have never seen a ship that big before. I’m taking them down there once they finish up with breakfast.” “Yeah,” his friend responded, still eyeing the bagel with disdain. “It’s a good idea. Mind if I take my kids too?” “Not at all,” the man said, “I was just about to offer.” Their conversation continued but Mulder had heard all he’d wanted to. The ship anchored in the bay aroused his curiosity. He wondered to himself if he had the time to run into town and check the boat out. If he stayed in his car and simply drove down the waterfront, it was surely safe for him. He wanted more than ever to know what exactly had happened, and what, if anything, about the freighter would attract a bona fide UFO. He decided he’d run into town quickly while Scully was showering and have a quick look. Just as he’d made his decision, Scully entered the dining area and made directly for their table. Mulder rose to greet her and was pleasantly surprised by longer than customary kiss on the lips for his effort. “Morning,” she said, flashing him a dazzling smile and folding her napkin in her lap as she sat. “Good morning,” Mulder answered, a smile of his own creeping unbidden across his face. “I ordered you some coffee.” “Great,” she said, picking up the menu, “I’m starving. What looks good?” “I think I’m having the cherry french toast,” he answered. “Good,” she said, “I want to try that. I’ll get the country hash and we’ll share.” “Sounds like a plan,” Mulder said as the waitress finally arrived at their table with the carafe of decaf. They ordered their breakfast and ate it with relish, discussing everything but what had happened the night before. Mulder could tell that the subject had become instant taboo. When she had finished what was on her plate and what remained on his, Scully sat back, her hands finding her belly and rubbing it lightly. “What time is check-out?” She asked. “It’s supposed to be at eleven,” Mulder answered, “but I talked to the girl at the front desk and she said we can wait until one or two. We were supposed to have the room until tomorrow, so there isn’t anyone checking in.” “Oh great,” Scully said with a satisfied sigh, “in that case, I think I may give the Jacuzzi a try.” “That should be nice,” Mulder said a little absently, his eyes following her hands at her stomach. “You mean you don’t want to join me?” She asked slyly. Mulder smiled at her to show that the offer was tempting, but turned her down. “No, you should relax a little,” he said, “take some time to yourself. I think I’m going to head into Petoskey and have a look around.” “Taking some time for yourself, too?” Scully asked quietly, reaching across the table to take his hand. He gave it a squeeze and continued to hold it. “You could call it that,” he answered. They signed the check and headed back toward the staircase that led up to their room, hand in hand. Mulder stopped at the bottom as Scully took a step up and turned to him, for once eye-level. “Enjoy your dip,” he said, bringing the hand he was holding to his lips and kissing her palm. “I won’t be long.” With that, he turned and headed out the door of the lodge and out to their van. It didn’t take him long to get into town and find the entrance to the waterfront drive. He drove along it and parked near the end, in a section that he guessed was the town’s answer to make-out point. The freighter was anchored not far off of the pier, in between Petoskey on the bay’s southern shore, and Harbor Springs on it’s north. There were many people walking along the empty docks and taking pictures of the enormous ship, milling about and clustering, most likely discussing the ship and the last time one had anchored in the area. Mulder looked out to the ship again and studied it. He couldn’t ascertain anything that would differentiate it from any other ship, and wondered what exactly about it attracted UFO activity. He looked out to the people milling about once more and was surprised at the number of people that were now swarming around the docks and shore, clustering and pointing at the anchored freighter. There was excitement in the air that he could pick up from his seat in the van nearly 300 yards from the closest person. Suddenly, a sheriff’s cruiser pulled out onto the waterfront with it’s lights flashing, and the sheriff and two deputy’s that Mulder recognized from the night before got out of the car, and moved toward the ever-growing crowd of people. Mulder zipped up his coat and shoved on his gloves, turning off the van’s ignition and pocketing the keys. He opened his door and starting walking toward the crowding masses to find out just what the hell was going on. XxXxXxXxXxX Scully sat on the edge of the red Jacuzzi watching it fill. She was about to shed the clothing she had thrown on for breakfast, but decided to hit the controls for the water jets on the wall before she did so. She turned the knob that controlled the water temperature up a bit and hit the button for the jets. Nothing happened. She hit it a few more times and then made her way to the bedside phone to call the front desk. When she was met with a beeping busy tone, she decided it would be easier to simply walk down and inquire about the exact operating procedure of their Jacuzzi. As she made her way down the stairs, she picked up the conversation that the receptionist was having with another patron, and stopped dead in her tracks. “Any plans for the day, sir?” The receptionist asked. “I think I’m taking the kids into Petoskey,” the man answered, “that big freighter is anchored in the bay and I want them to have a look at it. The William Joely is it?” The receptionist nodded and smiled back at him. “That should be fun for them,” she said, “that boat seems to be the buzz of the day around here.” “That’s for sure,” the man said, and then turned to take a seat on the sofa that sat in front of the fireplace, checking his watch with a slight amount of irritation. Scully stood frozen on the staircase and tried to mentally digest what she’d just heard. Mulder had gone into town to see the ship. She knew it. Anger battled with abject fear in an attempt to overtake her emotions. She was suddenly furious with him for both not telling her what he was doing, and for the fact that he was doing it at all. At the same time, a panicky prelude to terror nudged at her mind, and she grabbed at her distended belly, trying to calm herself. It was then that the receptionist noticed her. “Mrs. Mulder?” She asked, “is there anything I can do for you?” Scully shook her head and headed the rest of the way down the stairs. “No. Thank you,” she said, and then turned to the man sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. “Sir?” She asked politely and more calmly than she felt, “would you mind if I tagged along with you into town?” XxXxXxXxXxX Mulder squeezed his way through the crowds of people and made his way toward the sheriff from his right. “Would everyone please just calm down!” The sheriff shouted above the mumbling noise of the crowd. “I know you’ve heard the rumors, but please, there is nothing wrong with this ship or it’s crew. I ask you please to all just go home!” A few negative remarks were barked out at him, and he stood back, a bit miffed. Mulder watched the scene unfold for a few minutes, trying to pick up snippets of conversation from the crowds of people around him. Apparently, the UFO rumor had gotten out and spread like wildfire. He then made his way to the sheriff and was about to step up to the man when he felt a tugging on his elbow. He turned to find it’s source and froze for an instant. “Scully?” He said, turning to face her in full. Her eyes were wild, and he saw the emotions warring behind them, both fury and fright. “What are you doing here?” “I could ask you the same thing,” she said, and Mulder recognized her tone. It was calm but barely kept in check. He immediately mentally kicked himself in the ass. “I was just,” he started, but knew anything that came out of his mouth right then would sound as stupid as he felt. “It’ll be all right, Scully,” he said, flashing her a small smile of reassurance. “I was just…” He lifted his eyes from her and caught himself again. He looked to the left at the crowd of people and his mouth paused, mid-sentence. A gripping fear seized him as he again scanned the faces of the people standing around, looking for confirmation of the one thing he hoped he hadn’t seen. And then, he saw it again. Krycek. He’d been walking in between the many people, and paused at that moment, staring directly into Mulder’s eyes. “You were just what?” Scully asked, her calm tone slipping somewhat as she took another step closer to Mulder. “You were just *what* Mulder!?” Mulder then tore his eyes away from Krycek and stared down at Scully, effectively stopping her mid-rant. She paused and looked up at him. “Mulder, you’re making that face.” He only nodded and grabbed for her hand, pulling her away from the crowd and back toward the van. “Mulder, what is it?” She asked, trotting somewhat to try to keep up with his pace. “Let’s just go,” he said, not taking his eyes from the target of their van. She squeezed his hand and stopped, causing him to stop as well and swing to back to face her. “Mulder you’re scaring me.” “Come on, Scully let’s just get in the van,” he said, turning to walk, but she wouldn’t move. “Mulder?” She asked again, her frightened tone infusing every question she wanted to ask. “Dana,” Mulder said, in a voice he was trying hard to control, “get in the van.” Scully blinked once and quickly complied, his use of her first name scaring her into action. She slammed the passenger door shut behind her and swung her seatbelt on, turning to Mulder in the same movement. He already had his on, and jammed the keys in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. He threw the van into gear and only when they were on the road and past the crowd of people did he look at her. “Mulder what is it?” She asked quietly, afraid of the answer. Mulder turned to her and gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles white. “It’s Krycek,” he said, “I just saw him.” XxXxXxXxXxX It hadn’t been a good week. Mulder had almost been resigned to sleeping on the couch. The fact that Scully didn’t want to be alone in their own house while she was sleeping, however, made his own private dog house a living hell. He made a turn up the small sidewalk that led to the hospital’s main entrance where he’d walked from his last class to pick Scully up every day that week. He felt horrible for what he’d done, and wasn’t comfortable leaving her to do her customary walk home from work. She was standing just inside the entrance reading the school newspaper and waiting for him. “Hey Mulder,” she said, folding it under arm, “how was your day?” Her tone hadn’t indicated that she actually *cared* how his day had been, but it had been a few more words than he’d gotten in the past three days combined, and he took it as a good sign. “It was good. How was yours?” “Fine,” she answered, but didn’t take his offered arm as they started the short walk from the University of Michigan hospital to their house. When Mulder grabbed her to steady her as she slipped on a patch of early March ice, however, she didn’t shrug him off. Perhaps they’d be able to sit down and have a talk after dinner, Mulder thought, she’d been too angry at him on their trip back down to Ann Arbor, and had claimed exhaustion every other night that week. Mulder did feel guilty for doing what he’d done, but he honestly, at the time, hadn’t thought it’d been dangerous. He was merely trying to satisfy a curiosity in a non-threatening way. He’d obviously been wrong. Though they’d been alert since they arrived back downstate, neither of them had noticed any indication that they were being watched. Mulder began to wonder if he’d even ever really seen Krycek at the waterfront that day. Mulder shook his head when he realized Scully had said something to him and was waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry, what?” He said apologetically. “I said,” Scully said, her earlier irritation rearing it’s head once more, “I have an ultra-sound tomorrow morning, did you want to come with me?” “I wouldn’t miss it, Scully,” he answered, his tone supplicating her to forgive him. “Okay,” she said, her own tone answering his a little more kindly, “it’s at 10.” They turned onto their block and crossed to their side of John Street. As they climbed up their steps, and Mulder fished out his set of keys, he turned to their next door neighbors, a group of four young men who at that moment were enjoying an early evening round of beers. “Morning, professor!” One of them called over cheerily. “Good evening,” Mulder answered him, smiling. “Evening. Right,” the student answered back, and Mulder turned the key and held the door open for Scully, waving to the boy as he followed her inside. “So,” Mulder said, taking her coat from her and hanging it up next to his own, “have we decided whether or not we want to know?” At Scully’s confused look, he continued. “The sex,” he went on, “do we want to know the sex of the baby?” Scully sighed at him and turned toward the kitchen. “It’s up to you,” she said, her level of sudden stoicism frightening Mulder somewhat. He followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the countertop while she rummaged around in the fridge. “I think I’d like to know,” Mulder said with a searching smile. “Well then, we’ll find out,” she replied, opening a container of pineapple and leaning against the fridge while she ate it. “Scully your level of apathy right now is scaring me.” Scully sighed and put the container of pineapple on the counter behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut with her forefinger and thumb, and turned back to Mulder. “Mulder it’s not…” She rubbed at her face and searched for the right words. “It’s not apathy. It’s… It’s me being angry and afraid and not knowing what to do about it.” Mulder merely sat there in silence, not knowing how to respond. “What you did this weekend, Mulder,” she said, shaking her head and walking toward him, “Why did you do it? Why did go snooping into something that you knew, you *knew* threatened our safety and the baby’s? Especially at a time when the strands of our personal relationship were so…” She finally sighed and leaned her hands against the countertop facing Mulder, looking him in the eye. “Tenuous.” “To be honest Scully,” he answered, “I didn’t think of the situation as all that threatening. I mean, I know we weren’t supposed to go out looking for the paranormal, but I wasn’t prepared for the paranormal to come looking for us.” Her face softened a little, but she made no move to answer him, obviously awaiting a little more explanation. “Scully, when I think about it, what I did scares *me*. I would never, never do anything like it again.” He stood and crossed over to stand beside her. She turned to face him. “I swear Scully, from now on, if a UFO goes that way,” he pointed to his left, “I go *that* way,” he finished, shoving his other hand sharply to the right. “This ,” he moved his outstretched hand to her stomach and rested it there, “is too important to me. Understand?” She continued to look at him, and he wasn’t sure she did. “Scully, I didn’t go out there because I long for what I gave up when we left. I don’t. In fact, I’m glad we left. I’m glad I’m here with you. There isn’t anywhere I’d rather be.” Scully gave him a small smile and leaned into him, leaning her forehead against his chest. “I’m sorry for the last week,” she said, bringing her hands around his middle to hug him tightly. “You have nothing to apologize for, Scully. Nothing.” He replied, returning her hug fiercely and planting a solid kiss to the top of her head. “Now,” he said, backing up a little bit to get a good look at her, “why don’t you go change and relax, and I’ll do dinner tonight.” She smiled up at him and squeezed him one last time. “Sounds good,” she said, and headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Mulder’s mood sufficiently perked up, he turned on the radio that sat on the window sill above the sink and cranked up the volume to the classic rock station that it was preset on. As Lee Michael’s “Do You Know What I Mean” came on, he shimmied his way to the fridge, no doubt looking ridiculous as he bounced his ass along with the music with his head shoved in between the shelves looking for something decent to cook. When he popped up again with a head of lettuce in one hand and a tomato in the other, he whirled around to find Scully standing in the doorway of the kitchen sporting an enormous smile. He paused for a second, embarrassed, and then decided to hell with it, and continued grooving his way on over to the countertop. He saw Scully’s shoulder’s chuckle and she reached for her purse that she’d left on the counter, and headed back upstairs. As he was getting out a knife from the silverware drawer, the phone hanging next to the refrigerator rang, and he reached for it. “Hello,” he said, pulling it’s cord along with him as he walked to the sink to turn down the radio. “Leave the radio on, Mulder,” the voice answered. Mulder froze until recognition dawned on him and he found his voice. “I told you to never call here,” he said, his voice a venomous hiss. “We had no choice, Mulder, it’s urgent,” it answered. “Frohike, so help me God,” Mulder began, but Frohike interrupted him. “Mulder we’ll make this quick,” he said, and Mulder brought his other hand to his ear trying to better hear what the man had to say above the din of the music. “We’ve been keeping track of Krycek like you asked us to before you left.” Mulder didn’t say anything and the man continued. “We lost him for a while, but earlier this week, we found him again, and intercepted a cell phone call. You need to hear it.” Mulder nodded to the phone without reply, and Frohike took it correctly as an indication to play the recording for him. “’It’s me,’” one voice began, obviously not Krycek’s, “’I think maybe they’re onto me.’” “’Why would you say that?’” Krycek’s voice replied. “’Because, they left, and then they came back to the house, then left again and came back again. I think they knew I was following them.’” “’They don’t know anything,’” Krycek answered. “’Trust me, they wouldn’t still be there if they knew they were being watched.’” Mulder’s gut felt like it dropped out from under him as the voices continued. “’You’re sure?’” The other voice asked. “’Yes,’” Krycek said, “’stay at your post, and call me if anything *really* changes.’” “’How much longer?’” “’Scully’s how many months along, now?’” “’She’s got about 5 more,’” the man answered. “’Then that’s how much longer *you’ve* got,’” Krycek answered, “’there won’t be any need for you once the baby is born. We won’t need to watch them anymore, and once we have the kid, they won’t be able to find us.’” Mulder almost dropped the phone. So they didn’t want their child as leverage after all, they just wanted their child. Frohike stopped the recording then, and got back on the phone. “You’ve got to get out of there, Mulder,” he said, “you’re going to have to go underground.” “Yeah,” Mulder said absently, and then “but… Why? Why would they want our baby?” “Do you really have to ask yourself that?” Frohike said after a pause. “It’s immune,” Mulder said, realization dawning on him, “it’s immune to the alien virus.” “That’s what we think too,” Frohike said, and then he shifted gears. “Mulder, go to the location we arranged before you left, and we’ll go from there. You know what to do, we’ll talk to you then.” With that, the man hung up, and Mulder stood there with the phone still to his ear for a few moments. Then, like a flash, he hit the switch on the radio, shutting it off and nearly spinning into the sink below, and ran upstairs, taking them two at a time. When he burst through their bedroom door, he found Scully sitting on the bed, calmly retying her shoes. He stopped at the end of the bed, out of breath, and expected Scully to jet upright and ask him what the hell was the matter. She didn’t however, and simply met his frantic gaze with a steady one of her own. “Scully,” he said, “grab a bag and pack up as much as you can. We’ve got to be out of here in ten minutes.” “Fuck you, Mulder,” she said poisonously. He stood struck dumb, not knowing what to say. When she didn’t move, he moved to the closet and grabbed a duffel bag, tossing it on the bed next to her. “Scully, we need to get out of here. I’ll explain later.” She curled her hand around the bag, and looked at him pointedly. “Explain now.” He stood there in silence. “I heard the phone call, Mulder. I picked it up the same time as you and recognized the voice. What else have you been keeping from me?” Mulder glanced around the room, not knowing what else to say. He’d only told the Gunmen to keep track of Krycek before they’d left. Nothing more. He thought he’d told her so. Maybe he hadn’t. “Scully, I…” He stopped when his eyes landed on three packed bags sitting by the bed room door. Scully then stood and shoved the duffel bag into his chest. “Pack whatever else you want,” she said angrily, “I think I got most of it.” She moved to the window that looked out the side of their bedroom then, and froze. “Mulder,” she said quietly. Mulder moved to the window and followed her gaze. One of the “students” that lived next door to them had just left the house and was moving stealthily along the front yard towards theirs with a large automatic handgun in his grip. “Stay here,” Mulder said, and moved with purpose to the nightstand next to the bed and removed his old service weapon. He cocked it, shut the door behind him and made his way slowly down the staircase, his gun at the ready. He saw a shadow at the front door, and moved beside it quietly. The man silently opened the door and inched his way inside, obviously not thinking that either of them had seen him. As soon as he was inside, Mulder burst out from behind the door, and cold cocked the man before he knew what hit him. The man crumpled, and Mulder dragged him inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He pulled the man toward the fireplace and dumped him unceremoniously onto the tile in front of it, flipping off the preppy hat off of the man’s head to get a good look at his face. Not recognizing him, Mulder kneed him in the groin to make sure he wasn’t faking unconsciousness, and when it provided no response, he raced back upstairs. He flung the door open and walked directly into the barrel of Scully’s gun. “Jesus, Mulder,” she said, dropping her arm. “Sorry,” he apologized, and then grabbed two of the largest bags, shoving his gun into his jeans and leaving Scully the smallest to carry. She glanced at the man as they made their way to the front door and she paused when she saw it. “Barin Corey,” she said, as Mulder opened the door for her. “He worked at the hospital with me.” She nearly deflated then, and Mulder rushed to her side, shouldering the bag she was carrying, and leading her toward the open door. “Come on, Scully.” He threw their luggage into the side door, and helped Scully into the passenger seat, worrying more than a little at her sudden empty state. He then got into the van himself and nearly peeled out of their driveway and onto the street. He buckled his seatbelt and turned to her, throwing her a worried glance. She looked straight forward and didn’t return it. He was about to open his mouth, when she finally did hers. “Why, Mulder?” She asked. “Why us? Why the fuck is it *always* us?” Mulder didn’t have the answer to it and she knew it. She reached across the console and grabbed the fabric of his pants in a death grip. He put his own hand over hers to calm her. “It’s going to be alright, Scully,” he said. “It will.” She pursed her lips together, trying not to let any tears fall from her eyes, and then spoke. “Where are we going to go?” She asked. Mulder gave her hand a squeeze. He didn’t know, but he was determined to find it. There was somewhere out there where they’d be safe. There had to be. He was sick of living east of the syndicate and west of the aliens. “We’re going somewhere where we won’t be the ones in the dark,” he said, “we’re going somewhere where there’s a new shade of black.” XxXxXxXxXxX THE END… Until Part IV, anyway. Thanks for sticking with me! Feedback me! red_phile@yahoo.com