~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

UNIVERSAL INVARIANTS

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Twelve: Jungle Love

The one-year anniversary of Patty Waeleski's disappearance 
arrived without fanfare.  Her name had long ago disappeared 
from the papers and the minds of everyone not directly 
involved with the case. For most people it was just another 
routine Monday.

Scully wondered if anyone was still looking for Patty; if 
Mulder still walked the streets at night searching for 
clues.

She sat slumped in her chair as Ethan puttered around the 
kitchen.  He stuck a bagel with cream cheese on it in front 
of her, but Scully ignored it in favor of black coffee.  
Ethan sat next to her and stole back half the bagel, which 
he proceeded to bite into with a loud crunch.

"Let me guess," he said while chewing.  "New students 
today?"

"Maybe.  I confess I haven't even checked the schedule."

"You know, when I met you, you were all excited about the 
melding of young minds into future forensic pathologists.  
I thought you liked teaching."

"I did.  I do."  She sat up with a sigh.  "It's just..."

"What?"

"I like learning more."

He sipped his own coffee.  "That's what you were doing on 
the X-Files?  Learning?"

"Well, sure.  I hadn't done that sort of work before."

"Dana, *nobody* had ever done that sort of work before.  
With good reason."  He paused.  "At least teaching won't 
get you killed."

"Ethan," she said, taking on a tone of warning, "whatever 
happens, I'm not going to stay in that lab forever.  I 
didn't join the academy with a lifelong dream to show 
others how to cut up a dead body."

"I know, I know.  I'm just hoping for a slightly duller 
assignment next time.  Maybe something like organized 
crime."

Scully imagined herself performing autopsies on men wearing 
cement shoes.  "Pass, thanks."

Ethan crunched some more bagel.  "How's Mulder holding up?  
If you're moping, he must be haunting the basement like a 
ghost, nose pressed up against the old office window."

Scully felt more like the ghost in this situation.  Mulder 
passed her in the halls and did not even see her.  She 
found herself making up reasons why she had to go to the 
third floor, near the bullpen.  Sometimes she would see him 
at his desk, head bent low over whatever busywork they had 
supplied him for the day.  

Once she thought she had caught him looking at her.  Scully 
had waved, smiling.  But she looked like a fool with her 
hand stuck in the air when Mulder did not wave back.  

"It's just strange," she said aloud.  "You get used to 
working with someone every day and all of a sudden they 
split you up with no warning."

"Dana."  He covered her hand with his own.  "You're not 
responsible for Mulder anymore.  He got along fine before 
you met him and he'll do okay now.  You'll see." 

"Yeah, sure."

"Hey, did you tell him we're getting married yet?"

Scully looked reflexively at the ring on her finger.  
Mulder hadn't noticed her long enough to ask.

"We haven't had much chance to talk," she hedged.

Ethan smiled.  "Better tell him by September or he'll miss 
the ceremony."

~*~*~*~
Scully felt just a little crazy as she waited for Mulder in 
the garage of the Watergate Hotel.  His insistence on a 
smoke-and-mirrors display made her concerned for his 
sanity, but at the same time she got a secret rush from 
being included in the conspiracy.  That Mulder believed 
these precautions were necessary meant he still felt the 
work was important.
 
 That he was willing to meet with her meant he believed she 
was still important too.

At the last second, she slipped her engagement ring off 
inside her coat pocket.  That conversation could wait until 
later, until they weren't playing Spy-versus-Spy in a 
parking garage.

Scully's heart tripped over itself when she heard footsteps 
in the shadows.  She froze on a gasp, trying to make out 
the man's shape as he walked towards her.  Mulder's shoes 
came into view, then his legs.  Finally his face became 
visible in the dim light.

"Four dollars for the first hour of parking is criminal," 
he said.  "What you got better be worth at least forty-five 
minutes."

Scully relaxed in relief. "You know, Mulder, from... from 
back there, you look like him."

"Him?"

"Deep Throat," she said, chagrined at her confession.

"He's dead, Scully. I attended his funeral at Arlington 
through eight-power binoculars from a thousand yards away. 
Now, the picture frame was turned down, you wanted to talk. 
What have you found?"

"I wanted to talk but I haven't found anything."

A car engine started to life, headlights momentarily 
flooding the garage.  Mulder took a step closer to Scully.  
"It's dangerous for us just to have a little chat, Scully. 
We must assume we're being watched."

"Mulder, I haven't seen any indication..."

"No, no, of course not. These people are the best."

"I've taken all of the necessary precautions. I have 
doubled back over my tracks to make sure that I haven't 
been followed and no one has ever followed me. The X-Files 
have been terminated, Mulder. We have been reassigned. I 
mean, what makes you think they care about us anymore 
anyway?"

"So why have you bothered to come here covertly?"

"Because I realized that it was the only way that you would 
see me."

"So what do you want?"

"To know that you're all right."  He just stared at her so 
Scully continued. "Mulder, you passed me today within a 
foot, but you were miles away.  I know that you feel
frustrated that without the bureau's resources, it's 
impossible for you to continue... "

"No, it..."

"Well, what then? When the bureau first shut us down, you 
said that you would go on for as long as the truth was out 
there. But I no longer feel that from you."

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" he asked.

"Yes." 

"Did you check out the Palomar observatory?" Scully shook 
her head.  Mulder went on: "From 1948 until recently, it 
was the largest telescope in the world. The idea and design 
came from a brilliant and wealthy astronomer named George 
Ellery Hale. Actually, the idea was presented to Hale one 
night. While he was playing billiards, an elf climbed in 
his window and told him to get money from the Rockefeller 
Foundation for a telescope."

"And you're worried that all your life, you've been seeing 
elves?"

Mulder slumped against the wall, crouching down near the 
pavement.  "In my case, little green men."

Scully knelt with him.  "But, Mulder... during your time 
with the X-Files, you've seen so much."

"That's just the point. Seeing is not enough, I should have 
something to hold onto. Some solid evidence. I learned that 
from you."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment.  "Your 
sister's abduction, you've held onto that."

"I'm beginning to wonder if... if that ever even happened."

"Mulder, even if George Hale only saw elves in his mind, 
the telescope still got built. Don't give up. And next 
time..."  She stood up and touched his head, ruffling his 
soft hair. "We meet out in the open."

~*~*~*~

Next time, as it turned out, they didn't meet at all.  
Mulder disappeared without a word to her.  She would not 
have even known he was gone if Skinner hadn't called her 
into ask about Mulder's whereabouts.

At first she was hurt.  Mulder had deliberately left her 
out of the chase.  It seemed she was dispensable after all.

Then she grew worried.  Maybe he had not had time to leave 
her a message because he was in trouble.

You're not responsible anymore, Ethan had said.

Scully pulled Mulder's apartment key out of her purse and 
turned it over in her hand.  He hadn't asked for it back.  

Scully decided the least she could do was go feed the fish.

She opened his apartment door cautiously.  All the lights 
were off.  Inside the rooms smelled like him, of leather 
and summer heat.  She felt the heavy silence drawing her in 
deeper. 

Her ears burned hot. Her breathing quickened.  She was ten 
years old again, sneaking into her parents' bedroom to find 
out what secrets they held in dresser drawers.

No sign of struggle, she noticed with a tinge of relief.  
Mulder's dress shoes sat by the coffee table.  His suitcoat 
lay draped over one end of the sofa.  

Scully noticed a can of soda sitting by the computer, half 
full.  He hadn't bothered to finish it.  Scully switched on 
the machine.

~*~*~*~

Growing up, Samantha had owned a tin box toy called the 
Easy Bake Oven.  Mulder felt like someone had popped him 
inside.  Instead of a lone light bulb to cook his insides, 
he had the Puerto Rican sun banking him alive.

The temperature in the tiny satellite control room had to 
be hovering at the century mark.  Mulder downed bottle 
after bottle of water only to have it immediately evaporate 
off his skin.  Sweat matted his hair to his head.  His 
eyeballs felt fried.

The toilet didn't work, so Mulder ventured out into the 
jungle every time he had to take a piss.  Giant leafy 
plants seemed ready to devour him, slapping at his arms and 
face while the mosquitoes honed in for a feast.

His lone companion lay dead on the table.

Night fell.  Mulder forced himself to stay in the room with 
the body.  With the walls closing in, the screeching sounds 
from outside, Mulder felt a creeping sense of paranoia.  

He was next.  They had sent him here to die.  

With shaking fingers, he grabbed his tape recorder. "The 
day is... the time is 10:30. Although not a qualified 
pathologist, I will record my observations of the body in 
case at some future time, decomposition should obscure 
forensic evidence."

Mulder circled Jorge's body.

"The subject, perhaps victim... is Hispanic male, 
undetermined age. There are no overt external injuries 
apparent. There are no indications of any lightning 
strikes. No singeing of the hair or burns of any kind."

"The subject was discovered in sitting position. Rigor 
mortis having set in, a little less than half an hour had 
elapsed. The skin is strikingly affected by goose flesh. 
The body shows signs of intense cadaveric spasm. The 
expression reflects..."

Mulder leaned in for a closer look at the man's face.  "My 
God, Scully. It's as if he's been frightened to death."
Mulder crossed to the reams of paper spit out from the 
machine.  Jargon and jibberish, or proof of something more?

 "The print-outs received in the transmission indicate 
contact with another lifeform and yet I cannot see them. 
Even if I could see them, would they really be there? How 
do I know this isn't some classified military satellite? 
These transmissions are from the Voyager, for God's sake. 
Could extraterrestrials really have intercepted them? Or is 
this just some elaborate joke played on those who want to 
believe?"

Mulder tossed aside the printout in anger.  "I was sent 
here by one of those people. Deep Throat said 'Trust no 
one.' And that's hard, Scully... suspecting everyone, 
everything. It wears you down. You even begin to doubt what 
you know is the truth."

Outside, everything became eerily quiet.  Mulder cocked his 
head, listening.  He glanced over at Jorge, who had not 
moved.  All of a sudden the walls started shaking.  The 
machines blinked on and off, some falling to the ground 
with a loud crash.

Mulder raced to stand near the body.

White light poured in through the windows, nearly blinding 
him.  On the tape, the machine taunted him with his own 
words: "Deep... Throat... said... "Trust... no... one..." 
Deep... Throat... said... "Trust... no... one..." 
The door flew open and wind forced Mulder back against the 
wall.

He held his breath and awaited the truth.

~*~*~*~

Scully took her ring off again on the plane to Puerto Rico.  
The sun streaming in through the oval window caught the 
diamond, making it wink at her with a mocking, laser-beam 
twinkle.  Engaged couples traditionally left each other 
love notes.  Instead, Scully had taped a hurried scrawl to 
the refrigerator that gave little explanation as to where 
she was going or why.

With NSA agents on her tail, she could not risk telling 
Ethan about her jaunt to Arecibo.  "Dear E.," she had 
written, "Work emergency has taken me out of town for a few 
days.  Will call as soon as I can."

But the dirty truth, the part she could barely admit to 
herself, was that she did not know it was an emergency.  
Mulder could be sunning himself on a sandy beach for all 
she knew.  And yet here she was, grasping at any excuse to 
chase after him again.

The plane touched down in early morning, sun lazing low in 
the sky like a sleeping tiger.  Already the air had 
dimension, fat with humidity and punch-drunk on leafy 
vegetation.  Scully rented a car and used her broken 
Spanish to ascertain directions to Arecibo.

"No one goes to that place anymore," said the brown-skinned 
old man working the counter at the airport.  "The soldiers 
shut it down a long time ago."

Which, Scully supposed, was just like hanging welcome sign 
out for Mulder.

The men who built the Arecibo site must have wanted to get 
as close to the sky as possible.  Scully coaxed her car 
along the dirt road up the side of the steep hill.  The 
farther she climbed, the thicker the trees became.  
Branches slapped and cracked off against the sides of her 
car.

At last she reached the top and found the shack that 
appeared to be the main control room.  Scully got out, 
pausing to look around at the barbed fences now overrun 
with vines.  She saw no sign of Mulder.

Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she stepped 
through the tall grass towards the door.  Humidity had 
sealed it tight as a tomb.  Scully leaned her full weight, 
shoving until it burst open and threw her into the room.  

She recoiled at the smell of death.  Heat radiated back at 
her.  Everywhere, she saw electrical equipment littering 
the ground.

"Mulder?" she called, venturing deeper.  She fought the 
urge to cover her nose and mouth with her arm.  "Mulder are 
you here?"

She gasped when her foot hit a body half-hidden by reams of 
paper.

"Mulder!"  She spotted him on the floor at the back.  His 
neck was bent at a funny angle and she feared instantly 
that he was dead.  Scully made her way over to him.
  
"Mulder," she said, kneeling by his body.  His shirt was 
soaked in sweat.

She turned her flashlight on and shone it in his face.  His 
eyes opened.

"Mulder," Scully said again, weak with relief.  "I was sure 
you were dead."  Mulder said nothing, blinking slowly at 
her.  " Mulder? It's Scully. Dana Scully. Do you know where 
you are?"

She helped him sit up. "They came, Scully... the ones that 
took her. They were here."

He rested heavy hands on her shoulders, and a chill went 
through her despite the heat.  "Here?" 

Mulder crossed to the worn-looking tape recorder.  "On the 
tapes... the tape. Evidence. Proof.  And the transmissions, 
it's all here."

"Proof of what?"

"Contact. And these print-outs... it's here. And the man... 
We'll have to examine the body. There'll be more proof."

In the distance, Scully heard a rumbling. Her heart sped 
up.  "Is that them?"

Mulder listened and then shook his head.  "No, this isn't 
it."  He grabbed his binoculars and went to the window.  
"It's the Blue Berets Crash Retrieval Team. They'll kill 
us. Help me with the body."

"We don't have time," Scully said as the approaching vans 
grew louder.

Mulder struggled with the dead man.  "Help me!"

"Mulder, we're never going to be able to get the body out 
of the country!"  She grabbed his arm.  "We have to go. 
Evidence is worthless if you're dead!"

His bicep rippled under her hand as he fought her words.  
She felt him relent and started running for the door.  
Mulder grabbed her keys and took the wheel just as the army 
vans rolled to a stop across the grass.

"Hurry!" Scully urged.

Men with large guns poured out of the truck.  Mulder 
brought the engine to life and roared down the hill.  The 
tape he had taken from the control room bounced around at 
her feet as Scully clutched the door handle.

Bullets ricocheted off the back of the car.

"Hope you got the extra insurance," Mulder told her through 
gritted teeth.  He turned the wheel sharply.  Gravel spit 
up against the car window as they hurtled down the hill.

Scully risked a glance over her shoulder.  "I think we lost 
them."

"We lost most of the evidence," Mulder shot back.  "That's 
all they care about."

Scully scooped up the tape.  "Not everything."

Mulder eyed it.  "We need to find someplace to think, 
somewhere we can lie low until they call off the dogs.  You 
have cash on you?"

"Of course."  She watched him, his eyes intent on the road 
in front of him.  So focused Mulder often was on the 
nearest goal that he sometimes lost sight of the big 
picture.  "Mulder, they're looking for you back home.  The 
NSA had agents searching your apartment."

He looked surprised.  "What does the NSA want with me?"

"I didn't stop to ask."  She gave him a brief synopsis of 
her cat and mouse game with the agents at the airport.
Mulder grinned at her.  "Not bad, Scully.  That's some 
impressive detective work.  You know, we could use somebody 
like you at the FBI."

"I tried that.  Turns out I spent all my time chasing after 
my pain-in-the-ass partner."

Mulder sobered.  Keeping his gaze on the bumpy road, he 
groped blindly at her with one hand.  He squeezed when he 
connected with her knee.  "Thanks," he said.

~*~*~*~*~

They found a pair of cheap, out-of-the-way bungalows to 
rent for the night.  The senora who gave them the keys also 
directed them down the street for food, where Mulder picked 
up a pair of burritos and cokes.

He made it back just before the late afternoon storm.  Rain 
fell in sheets from the sky, splattering against the wide 
tropical leaves outside Mulder's open window.  Scully sat 
on the wide stone ledge inside the room, enjoying the 
cooler air even as the humidity curled the ends of her 
hair.

Mulder lounged on the bed, licking his fingers between 
bites of beef burrito.  "I can't remember when I ate last," 
he said.  "Maybe that's why this tastes so good."  He wore 
only jeans, having stripped off his ratty T-shirt and 
removed his socks and shoes.

"No, it's really good."  Of course, she hadn't eaten much 
in two days either.

"I was thinking we should take separate flights back."

"Why?  They're hardly going to wonder where we're going."

"They will if we split up.  Besides, it will give us a 
better sense of who's following us."

"They're good, Mulder.  The ones after me were undercover.  
They care enough about this to at least attempt some 
subtlety."

"There was nothing subtle about the men who chased us 
today."

Scully shivered, remembering the bullets whizzing past 
their car.  She looked out at the rushing rain.  "Look at 
it come down.  You don't see rain like this back home."

"Like they gutted a rain cloud with a hunting knife," 
Mulder agreed.

Scully turned with a smile.  "Lovely image.  Thank you."

"Hey, that's an ugly rain.  It'll wash you into the sea if 
given half a chance.  Look at the way it pounds everything 
into the ground."

Scully watched the rain for another moment and had to 
agree.  "I may have to row back to my bungalow," she said, 
turning around again.  She stopped when she saw Mulder 
sitting up with his feet on the floor.  He was holding the 
back of his head.  "Mulder, are you okay?"

Scully slid off her perch and went to check him out.

"Yeah, I just sat up too fast."

"Are you sure?" She touched the lump at the back of his 
head with gentle fingers.  "That's quite a bump you have 
there."

"It's not that bad."

"Mulder, you were unconscious when I found you.  Here, lie 
back."

Mulder reluctantly stretched out on the bed.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"  Scully touched his shoulders 
and then his ribs. 

Mulder cleared his throat.  "No."

"Here, follow my finger but don't move your head."  She 
moved her index finger back and forth in front of him, 
feeling better as his eyes tracked every move.  "Dizziness?  
Nausea?"

"No.  Really, I'm fine."

"What's that?"

"What?" He touched the side of his neck where she was 
looking.  "It's a scratch."

Scully leaned over him for a better view.  "Okay, I guess 
you're right.  It doesn't look too deep."

"Scully."  His voice rumbled near her ear.

She turned her head.  "Hmm?"

"It's okay.  I'm all right."

They were almost nose-to-nose.  Scully had braced herself 
on each arm, nearly straddling him.  The sound of rain 
filled the room as they stared at one another.

Scully's gaze drifted to his full mouth, all pink and wet.  
Just another fraction and she could taste him.  Just a 
little closer.  Just a small taste...

She could feel herself leaning down.  Her eyes drifted 
closed.  She felt the heat of him, smelled the salt of his 
skin.

They kissed.

Nothing tentative about it; Scully sunk into the kiss, 
covering his mouth even as he opened under her.  She tilted 
her head, noses touching.  Her tongue rubbed purposefully 
against his lower lip until he moaned.

The vibration passed through all the way to Scully's toes.  
She kissed him deeper, pressing him into the pillow.  Still 
she hovered over him, not touching anywhere but their 
mouths.  Mulder's hands came up and rested on her ribcage.  
He caressed her lightly through her T-shirt.

You should stop now.  It's not too late to stop, Scully 
told herself.
  
But it was monsoon love as Scully felt herself splitting 
open like the sky, rain roaring in her ears she tried to 
eat Mulder's mouth right off his face. He gripped her waist 
and pulled her down hard against him.  Her fingers splayed 
apart on his pillow; her breasts rubbed against his chest.

His thigh, strong like the jungle trees, worked between her 
legs.  Everywhere she touched he was hard, muscles pulled 
taut under supple skin, rough denim covering the ridge in 
his pants.  Scully pressed down on him, her face going up 
in flame as his erection rode between her thighs.

She was wild, feral -- desperate for him to pierce her and 
pop the tension building inside. His hips bucked under her, 
trying to answer her.  Scully held his face with both hands 
so she could show him with her tongue what she needed.

Mulder moaned and rolled her under him.  He arched his 
torso back, biceps flexing as he pinned her under his 
considerable weight.  His eyes bored into hers as he 
started a hard roll with his hips, pressing her deeper and 
deeper into the mattress.

Scully spread her legs and held onto his arms, stroking 
over the rough skin of his elbows as Mulder attempted to 
fuck her with their pants on.  She turned her head away, 
brain beginning to grow fuzzy.  The rain splashed outside.  
Mulder panted above her like a tiger in heat.

Her toes curled against the bed.  She bit her lip.  So 
close.  Almost.

"Ah," she said, face scrunching in frustration.
Her hands clawed at the front of his jeans.

"Yeah, yeah," Mulder encouraged, breath hot on her cheek.  
He nipped her chin as she struggled to part the button on 
his pants.  The fact that he was still thrusting his hips 
at her made it difficult.

She held back a sob as his pants came free.  "Mulder..."

He wriggled out of them and his boxers, leaving her cool 
and breathless on the bed.  Only when he collapsed on top 
of her again, the head of his penis riding high on her 
thigh, did Scully realize they'd accomplished only half the 
battle.

Mulder didn't seem to notice.  He was kissing her deep and 
hungry, his hands having worked under her shirt to tease 
both stiff nipples through her bra.  Her cloth shorts rode 
up between her legs with the friction, forming almost 
painful crease.

She broke the kiss and leaned her hot forehead against his.  
"I need... I need..."

He yanked her shorts and underwear down in one smooth 
motion.  Scully welcomed him back with a hard squeeze 
between her naked knees.  She shuddered as the length of 
his erection poked hot against her.

"Mulder," she said again, running her hands through his 
hair over and over.  It passed like wet silk between her 
fingers.

His stubble reddened her skin as he kissed her neck, her 
ear.  His clever fingers stole between her legs and Scully 
stiffened, levitating off the bed.  

The sticky skin of their bellies met and parted as Mulder 
worked himself into place. Scully held her breath as she 
felt the tip of his penis slip inside.  Mulder's breathing 
became shallow, labored.

They both looked down to watch him enter her.

Scully leaned her head back into the pillow.  She felt him 
filling her, going deeper.  His jagged breaths tickled the 
side of her face.  Time stretched out.  Neither said a word 
as he penetrated her this first time. She heard herself 
whimper, brow wrinkling in near agony as Mulder could push 
no further.

Slowly, he began to move, giving her several delicious 
inches.

Scully lifted her hips, seeking more, and Mulder picked up 
the pace.  She stroked the slick, smooth heat of his back.  
She kissed the prickly skin on his jaw.

Mulder sucked in tight, hot breaths and gave her even more.  
Scully screwed her eyes closed, reaching back to wrap her 
hands around the wooden bars of the headboard.  Mulder 
worked faster and deeper, shoving her up against the 
pillows with the force of his thrusts.

She wrapped her legs around his middle.  She gritted her 
teeth and arched her head back.  It was too much.  
Pinpricks of light burst behind her eyes.  She felt herself 
stiffening, every muscle bracing for the terrible 
onslaught.

"No, no," she said, tossing her head to the side.

"Yes," Mulder ground out.

He fucked her harder, dragging her with him to the edge.  
Scully gasped in one last gulp of air before orgasm hit 
like lightning.  Her mouth froze open; her body shook and 
shook.  She gripped the bedrails as tight as she could.

"Scully," Mulder said, and she answered with a wail.

His hips slipped from their rhythm, his ass clenching. 
Scully felt him heaving as he rode the same wave.

Shaking and spent, she lay paralyzed under him and could 
not open her eyes.  The room spun crazily around her.  What 
have we done? she wondered.

Mulder's weight slackened on her.  She could feel him 
studying her face and forced herself to meet his gaze.  She 
lay there, split open and wide-eyed while he searched her 
face.  Hair stuck to her temples.  Tears streaked her 
cheeks.

Mulder just stared at her for a minute before leaning down 
to touch his lips to hers.  Gently, tenderly, his tongue 
soothed the bruised spot her teeth had created during their 
frenzied mating.

Scully kissed him back.  After a moment, he pulled away and 
rested their cheeks together.  Scully let go of the wooden 
bars, aching muscles protesting each tiny movement.

She wound her arms around his neck and held on tight.

~*~*~*~

In the morning, they drove to the airport in silence.  
Mulder kept glancing in the rearview mirror to see if they 
were being followed, but he did not look over her way.

Scully knew it was up to her to say something.  She was the 
one with the fiancé at home.  But so far all she could come 
up with was, "What the hell was that?"

She remained quiet, scared to leave this place and scared 
to stay.  Mulder steered them confidently over the bumpy, 
muddy road.  The passing palm branches waved at her, 
bending under the heavy summer air.  Scully tilted her face 
to the breeze.

"We just have to get home," Mulder said, breaking the 
silence.

"Right.  Home."

As they reached the main road, Scully saw a plane taking 
off in the distance.  They would reach the airport soon, 
board a flight and go back to their opposite sides of the 
city.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the 
salty wind.

"I'll buy us the tickets," said Mulder as they approached.

Scully turned to him.  "We're going separately.  Remember?"

His blank look said he hadn't.  "Yeah, of course.  I'll 
just meet you back there then." He gave an uneasy glance 
behind them.

Scully didn't have to look.  She knew this place would be 
following her for a long time to come.

~*~*~*~

Evening shadows stretched like long, lazy black cats by the 
time Scully arrived home.  She grew weak-kneed and dizzy as 
she reached her front door.  Ethan would take one look at 
her and know.  Her hair frizzed at all angles; she wore a 
permanent flush.  She could still smell Puerto Rico on her 
skin.

She cracked the door and hesitated just a minute before 
setting her bag on the other side.  The living room was 
quiet.

Relieved, Scully went to the kitchen for a bottle of water.  
As she cracked it open, she heard the TV playing softly in 
the bedroom.  She took the water and walked down the hall, 
pushing open the bedroom door with the flat of one hand.

Ethan lay in bed, looking wan.  His eyes were closed.

Scully tiptoed in for a better look and he roused to give 
her a half-smile.  "Hey, you're back."

"I'm back," Scully said, too brightly.  "But I have to say 
you don't look so good."

He shook his head.  "Flu or something.  I've been lying 
here all day.  Did you have a good time?" he asked as she 
came around to feel his forehead.

"It was work," she said.  "You have a fever."

"Mmmm, yeah, probably."  His eyes drifted shut.  "Glad 
you're back," he said, giving her arm a clumsy pat.  "Gonna 
sleep now, okay?"

Scully left the room in search of a cold compress for his 
head.  She pulled one out of her freezer and reached into 
her jacket pocket for a handkerchief to wrap it in.  The 
cloth came out in one jerk, sending her engagement ring to 
the floor with a tinkling clatter.

Scully snatched it up.  She rocked it back and forth 
between her thumb and one finger before setting it gently 
on the kitchen counter.

Compress in hand, she went back to Ethan in the bedroom.

~*~*~*~

Two days later, Scully found Mulder in the tape room.  She 
stepped barely inside, her back plastered to the door.  

The small windowless room left little area to maneuver.  
"Hi," Scully said, swallowing with difficulty.  The last 
time she and Mulder had been alone together in a private, 
confined space, they had both ended up naked.

Mulder looked up.  "You're not going to believe this, 
Scully."

"What?" She took the seat next to him.  

Mulder had cued up the tape he'd taken from Arecibo.  He 
hit play and the tape curled around, but all Scully heard 
was a faint hissing noise.

"It should be right here," he said, sounding frustrated.

He gave the rewind button a forceful punch.  But a replay 
of the tape produced nothing new.

"The entire tape is blank," Mulder said. He removed it from 
the player. 

"You know," said Scully, "an electrical surge in the outlet 
the storm may have degaussed everything, erasing the entire 
tape."

Mulder did not reply.  He stood up and started putting the 
tape away.

Scully looked at her lap.  He had nearly died, and for 
what?  "You still have nothing," she said with sympathy. 

Mulder busied himself with the recorder.  "I may not have 
the X-Files, Scully, but I still have my work."

Scully waited.  He did not look at her.

"And I've still got you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

End chapter twelve.  Continued in chapter thirteen.

Many thanks to Amanda for proofing! *smooch*

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