Storms

Storms
Part 1/5

The noise built. It wasn't just in his ears it was in his body. It was making his hands shake. Making his legs grow weak. And all he wanted was to do was curl up and hide. Except there was nowhere to hide.

The tingling was making his hair bristle, making his teeth hurt. It was scratching at his hands, trying to claw back his fingernails.

He opened the car door, Sergeant Martin Deacon would make one last bid for freedom. One last desperate run to get way from the lightning storm that had chased him along the road and that seemed to be content to follow him alone.

But there was nowhere to run. All anyone would find would be a charred, lifeless body.

Dana Scully walked into the basement office that housed the X-Files. She had a new case for Mulder to look at. And then she had some news to tell him. A letter in the mail, innocuously arriving with the super discount offers and the payment demands. It was a letter that could change her life. It was, maybe, even a letter that should change her life. The thing she was struggling with was whether it would be a change for the better.

She sat down and listened to her partner talking to an exceptionally nervous looking young man. The badge on the man's shirt identified him as Special Agent Martin Gregory. She vaguely recalled the name from one of her occasional training day's at Quantico. A brand new Agent. She recognised the routine, a raw new recruit primed up with a heavy batch of 'Spooky' stories and given the job of taking a stalled investigation to Fox Mulder.

Mulder had taken pity on the jumpy figure next to him. Not only had he marked up the scene of crime photos and notes he'd even bothered to explain the reasoning. "Your suspect had no time to hide a weapon of the size the ME described. Or at least none to hide it so well the search team couldn't find it. But he had time to melt it. Ask the ME to consider the possibility of a deep frozen spike of some liquid. A stabbing then the evidence dropped into the hand basin. Blood and weapon flushed away."

Agent Gregory looked nervously at Mulder, then at Scully. He quickly said thankyou and almost ran from the office.

Mulder turned to Scully. "Am I really that bad?"

Scully nodded and shrugged, then started talking. "You know Mulder if you keep that kind of logical explanation up someone's going to get suspicious and arrest you for impersonating a Federal Agent."

"Sheesh. You know the penalty for impersonating a Federal Agent?"

"Nope."

"No, me neither. I'd better start working on the weirdness level."

"Not just yet, while your mind's still clear I've got a case for you to look at."

Mulder looked intently at his partner. "Go ahead but I hope it's more interesting than the one Gregory got sent here with.

"Autopsy reports suggests that the man died from multiple injuries. ME says if he didn't know better he'd say the man was stoned to death."

"If he didn't know better?" Mulder queried as he studied the pictures of the victim and the place the body was found.

"The ME's pretty convinced he was killed where he was found, there are indentations on the dirt round the body but it was smooth underneath it. Yet there are no stones anywhere to be seen."

Mulder looked back at the photographs. Leant his head back for a few seconds then responded. "Hailstones."

Scully looked at him. Improbable but certainly not impossible. Mulder was definitely on form this morning. "Ok. Looks like you're on a roll. What about this? The body was found the wrong side of a 15 foot high electrified security fence. The security camera images have been reviewed. There were no low flying aircraft or helicopters in the area. It was as if the body just fell from the sky. And from the amount of damage to the body it was as if the body had only fallen about forty or fifty feet so there was no way the craft could have been missed."

This time he puzzled a little more over the image but responded almost as quickly. "Freak whirlwind. There are records of them being strong enough to pick up people and then drop them down dozens of yards later."

Scully thought about the reply. "I'll check with the local weather centre. You know if you're going to solve all this stuff so quickly we're going to be on part time work soon."

Mulder shrugged and looked at the stack of 'odd stuff' that people sent through to him and wondered if Scully would get her wish. Not before 1999 he reckoned. And that was assuming nothing weird happened between now and then.

"Ok." Scully continued. "This one's not going to faze you at all then. A victim of lightning."

Mulder scanned the autopsy image. "So?"

"He was in an aircraft hangar. A metal building. He'd got out of his car. His car interior showed lightning damage as well."

Mulder sat up quickly. "A metal building? And inside a car? Not lightning, they'd act like Faraday cages, you can't get hurt by lightning if you're inside a metal box. Was he in an open doorway or something?"

"Ah. So you do remember some science then Mulder." Scully said gently. "No. Too far away from the door for any kind of spark gap effect to be in play. "

"Where did these deaths happen?"

"Argon in Texas. Last Friday night. The Sheriff's department aren't used to unexplained deaths. The electrified fence is around a military airfield. The hangar is part of the same complex. The man who was stoned, " she nodded appreciatively to Mulder, "hailstoned to death was found on the road outside."

Mulder was already rummaging through the filing cabinets.

Scully recognised the response. It didn't surprise her any more. Her partner seemed to have committed a good percentage of the old X-Files to memory. "You recognise the place?"

"Not the place. Deaths by strange weather phenomena. Usually linked," he paused knowing that she was going to hate his next words, "usually linked to sightings of lights in the sky."

She groaned. "UFO's?"

"Did I say UFO's? Lights in the sky."

She nodded apologetically.

Mulder pulled out three files from the cabinet. "So when do we leave?"

Leaving Washington didn't take long. It never did. They had had plenty of practice. The flight delivered them to Texas.

SHERIFF'S OFFICE - NEXT MORNING

Dana Scully knew the score, of course she did. She was asking the questions and the Sheriff was talking straight through her, addressing his replies and observations to Mulder. It wasn't Mulder's fault, he was trying to do the right things to show through his own body language that he was listening to Scully and expecting the responses to go to her. The messages the two Agents were sending out weren't that subtle. Anyone with an ounce of sensitivity would understand them. Unfortunately the Sheriff was just a jerk. It wasn't as if it was a new experience for her, but that didn't make her feel any happier about it.

Mulder listened and watched. He liked to let her make the early running, it meant that his own questions were like punctuations, catching people off guard. It was one of the things that worked so well about the partnership. Sometimes they swapped roles, him as the gentle questioner, her as the sudden change of pace. But the Sheriff was wearing her down, they'd been through this so many times before with idiots who didn't know her abilities, doubted her strength. But Scully's voice, though it had the same solid professionalism that always rang through, now contained a little edge of irritation, an edge that Mulder didn't like the sound of.

Mulder decided to intervene. "Sheriff Clarke, You seem to be having a lot of problems answering Agent Scully's questions. Is there something you haven't told us?"

The Sheriff stiffened in his chair. "I'm not having a problem with anything."

Scully moved in for the kill. "I'm glad to hear it. Now perhaps you'd like to tell me again about the men who died."

The Sheriff looked at Mulder. Mulder ignored him and waited for him to turn to look at Scully. The Sheriff swallowed and addressed his remarks to the female Agent.

The tension level in the room didn't drop but they got through the questions without further mishap. The Sheriff offered them the usual courtesies and promises of help. Only the lack of sincerity in his voice reminding them that they were unwelcome strangers in his stable routine.

As soon as they were outside the office Mulder looked at her. "You know what they say Scully, he's just a good, plain honest country boy at heart. Salt of the earth."

She took a deep breath as if to launch into a speech.

But Mulder didn't give her a chance. "A moron."

She let out the breath and looked at him. "I just get so sick of it."

"Me too. Come on, time to go the airfield." He smiled and let his hand brush against the small of her back.

She pulled quickly away from him and headed to the car.

Mulder suddenly realised what he'd done. < Smart, really smart. She's just sat through an hour of chauvinistic crap from that Sheriff, then you make a joke about it. Then you pat her on the back likes she needs reassurance. No way is she going to think that it's patronising. Lucky you studied Psychology, if it hadn't been for the years of training, you would probably have told her not to worry her pretty little head about it. >

He kicked an imaginary stone off the sidewalk and got into the car.

The trip to the airfield had taken them no further on. Even Mulder's nose for trouble hadn't triggered his warning systems. The military base was scarcely even secure. Pilot training, not a lot else. Nothing fancy, nothing top secret. The fences and the cameras were only to protect the weapons stores. Nothing exotic.

By late evening they had collected the security videos from the airbase and had settled in front of a TV in Mulder's motel room.

Mulder kept rerunning the security videos. Despite the seriousness of their contents he was finding it hard not to laugh. Nothing except blackness in one frame then a brief blur and a body lay on the ground. "There's no other explanation, it's got to be David Copperfield."

Scully frowned. "What's wrong with the odd weather phenomena business then?"

"You mean apart from the fact that the weather centre labelled it as highly improbable. And the fact that there are no signs of anything else being disturbed, no showers of frogs, not even a shower of leaves. And the other two deaths. I mean I can take the hailstones as a related meteorological freak event but lightning inside a metal hangar?"

Scully stared back at the screen. She wasn't at all sure why she felt obliged to argue with him on this. He was clearly right but it was such a blow. When she'd been handed the reports she'd feared the worst, another of those apparently paranormal unsolvables. Then Mulder had handed her some nice logical, scientific explanations on two out of the three incidents. But that had just made it all the worse when the explanations ran out on the third.

Mulder reran the tape of what had gone on at the hangar. The cameras were only on the entrance to the building. But it was clear as the victim drove into the hangar that there were brilliant flashes coming from inside the car.

Mulder suddenly tapped the table and turned to Scully. "I've got it. I just wasn't concentrating. It's ball lightning."

"Oh great. Three freak weather phenomena including one that doesn't exist."

He looked back, faking a quizzical expression. "Which one doesn't exist? Hailstones. Whirlwinds. Or ball lightning."

"You know very well which one. The case for ball lightning is a long way from being proven."

"I see." A gentle humour rippling into his voice."So now we have to equate 'not proven' to 'does not exist'. That's going to put a bit of a damper on our investigations isn't it?"

She frowned again. "Ball lightning?"

"It can survive inside metal frames it's even been seen inside the passenger compartment of a plane."

"By people who've had too many complimentary drinks from the bar."

"What's too many?"

She refused to smile, that would be tantamount to encouraging him. "So are you going to write the case closed report then?"

"That would suggest I thought it was just a freak storm that the weather centre missed."

"That is what you're saying, isn't it?"

"I don't think so. There looks like an intelligence at work here. The locations. The absence of damage except to he victims themselves. Even the choice of victims."

"The choice of victims? You're suggesting someone chose them?"

"All men, all travelling alone. Someone or something chose them."

Scully sat back in her chair. She had misgivings over this case. A kind of strange foreboding that something very wrong might be happening. She couldn't pin it down. It was giving her a headache. Making her uncomfortable. She had misgivings about a lot of things today. She still hadn't told him about the letter and the longer she left it the harder it would get.

Mulder watched her. He wanted to ask if she was feeling all right. But he knew what the answer, or rather the non answer would be. < I'm fine Mulder. Just a little tired / got a headache / fed up with being hassled by you. > Or whatever today's platitude might be. He shrugged in his chair, "it's been a long day Scully, why don't you get some rest?"

She looked back at him as if he'd startled her from a quiet dream she was having. "I'm fine Mulder."

"Ok. So why don't we get some rest."

She started to make a joke, "we Mulder, that an invitation?" Then she stopped abruptly and said goodnight and returned to her own room.

Mulder listened to her footsteps then heard her close the door to her room. He flicked the video back to life. He wasn't expecting to see anything new but it helped him to concentrate. By the time he went to sleep he didn't need the video to replay the scenes of crime.

Dana Scully leant against her bedroom door and tried to shake the cobwebs out of her head. Not for the first time she was questioning her work on the X-Files. Those glimpses they'd caught of a conspiracy against the people had destroyed her faith in government, even in her own role as an employee of the FBI. Those glimpses of the inexplicable she'd seen had made her doubt her faith in science. She wasn't sure which hurt worst.

Mulder just raced through it as if it was meaningless, a set of clues to solving a riddle. As if it didn't matter what the motives or the justification of the conspirators might be. As if it didn't matter that ghosts and spirits and spells could cause terror and real physical damage. It didn't challenge his faith, he didn't seem to have any. But it challenged hers. And sometimes she wished her faith was intact.

So why was she still here? She'd been on course for great things in the Bureau. So people said. She'd wanted to do great things.

It was strange she went out on every X-File determined to prove that it wasn't an X-File. She'd seen so much, experienced so much. But none of it counted, they had so little hard evidence. And if they had hard evidence, what then? Then it would be even worse.

She'd lost so much. Overshadowing everything was Melissa's death. Yet sometimes she almost forgot that, she felt so ashamed when that happened. Sometimes she found herself worrying about her stalled career. Sometimes she caught herself looking wistfully at family and friends, their houses and their children. But the worst was when she slipped into that dark place and thought of her abduction and the threat of long term consequences of the illnesses the MUFON women had suffered.

To walk away now. Would it be a betrayal if she did? Of Melissa. Of her own experiences. Of Mulder.

Probably. But could she ever be happy again while she worked with the constant reminders and the constant danger? Would she ever feel safe? Would she be allowed to have faith in anything or would those last few vestiges of belief be torn from her by something Mulder claimed was the truth.

And this case. The first two deaths could be attributed to extreme weather phenomena. Even the third with its ball lightning wasn't digging that deep into the realms of science fiction. She could have seen that, she had the knowledge, she had the training. It was just as if right now she didn't have the inspiration. Had she really become so dependant on Mulder's off the wall theories that she had run out of insight herself? She brooded some more. And to make it worse this time the theory wasn't even that off the wall.

She had the opportunity to walk away, to emerge from the X-Files if not unscathed then at least alive. Some would even think she'd be emerging triumphant. Such an opportunity, such a decision.

She quietly hung up her suit and let the shower wash away her thoughts.

Part 2/5

THE MOTEL - THE NEXT MORNING

Mulder checked the clock and unravelled himself from his jogging clothes. Plenty of time. Over an hour before Scully would arrive to meet him for breakfast. A chance to have a leisurely shower and catch up with some reading on the weather.

Scully stood at the door. She'd already knocked twice. She was ridiculously early but she knew she wasn't going to get any more sleep and she'd heard him moving around an hour ago, she'd like to check over the files. And of course she really did need to talk to him before they started work for the day.

She opened the door, the chain wasn't on, he must still be out jogging or something.

Dana Scully had spent the previous weekend at her mother's for a family reunion, a christening of a new niece. The weekend had been fine, there had been that one minor argument with her sister in law but nothing she couldn't handle.

Coffee. That would be good. She went straight to the kitchen unit. The coffee looked freshly made. She poured herself a cup and headed back to the chair.

She nearly collided with a wet and naked Fox Mulder heading the other way, towelling his hair as he walked. He spoke quickly, "hey that could have been dangerous, the coffee's hot. I must need my ears testing, I didn't notice you come in."

He wrapped the wet towel round his waist. Scully hadn't said a thing. He suddenly felt a bit nervous. "Come on Scully aren't you supposed to say one of those Doctor things like, you've got nothing I haven't seen before." He wasn't normally that self conscious about his body. For one thing it wasn't that important to him.

She stared at her feet then stumbled out a reply. "Yes, that's true of course but last time you were sick."

He gave her a startled smile. "I'd sort of imagined something a little less specific, but I guess you're right."

He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom to get dressed. He didn't close the door, he wanted to chat and he trusted her not to peek. He thought about that for an instant and his brain told him that his explanation didn't really hold water but he ignored it, it was harmless.

Dana Scully stood in the bedroom trying to regain her composure. Of all the stupid things to say. She started to go through a long list of better replies. It wasn't as if in her line of work she didn't get plenty of practice at hiding her reactions. But he'd really caught her off her guard this morning. Maybe he hadn't noticed. Yeah, fat chance of that.

In fact she was less worried about what he thought it meant than what it was telling her. She was so good at hiding her feelings she could hide them from herself. Was that slip up deliberate? She tried to think of something to focus on from the case. She looked into the bathroom and felt relieved, he was half dressed. Still no shirt but at least he was wearing trousers.

He turned as he heard her in the doorway and she stepped back blushing. "Scully, we can't go on meeting like this. How long have you been stood there?"

She shuffled and hesitated. "Oh, not long."

"Good. So you don't know my guilty secret then."

She looked puzzled and very serious as he joked with her. Guilty secret. She stood silent.

Finally he couldn't take the silence. "Black boxers. What do you reckon, self indulgent or just bad taste?"

"How about just the senseless act of a fashion victim."

He smiled and started to fasten the buttons on his shirt. When he looked back at her there was something in her eyes that made him tense up. "Are you feeling ok?" In a gesture she was only too familiar with he lightly pressed her shoulder and directed her to the chair.

She couldn't look at him. "Scully," he said again. "Scully? What's wrong? Is someone ill? Are you ill? What's happened?"

Why did his voice have to sound so damned easy to talk to. She felt like running but she knew he wouldn't let her. He touched her hand, then moved away to give her back the personal space, the room to open up.

She looked at him. The psychologist, the colleague and the friend looking at her. She couldn't bottle it up. What she had to say was bad enough. But if she said nothing he'd just imagine something even worse and would end up nagging her for the rest of the day. And she really did want to get this off her chest.

"It just crossed my mind that it's more than three years since I last saw a naked man walking around."

He tried not to look confused and wondered if he was supposed to apologise. They'd always flirted a little, just for fun. He hadn't offended her with his remarks about boxer shorts had he? And he'd got so used to her being there and being his friend as well as his partner, that maybe he didn't always treat her with the respect he should give her as a colleague. He hesitated then said that he was sorry.

She puzzled over the word. Sorry about what? That he'd been walking round his own bedroom? Sorry that she'd seen him? Or sorry that there had been no one in her life since she joined the X-Files.

His mind replayed her words. < It's three years since I last saw a naked man walking around. > There had been no one since she'd worked on the X-Files. His brain had gone into overdrive. His first thought was that he was glad, but he quickly felt guilty about that. So did that mean that working with him had taken away another part of her life? It was no surprise. He kept her busy. Even when they weren't working he disrupted her social life with stupid phone calls. And she didn't seem the type to go in for one night stands. He couldn't think of anything to say.

She looked at him. He looked so sad, so apologetic. She gave herself a mental kick. That was all she needed, her partner feeling sorry for her

Pity. She didn't want it. She didn't need it. Not from her brother's wife. Definitely not from Mulder. < A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. > Why did everyone who heard that she wasn't living with someone or at least dating assume that she was an unhappy spinster longing for a man? She started to attack his assumption that she, Dana Scully, needed a man to make her life complete.

Mulder fell back under the unexpected tirade. He hadn't meant to imply. He never dreamed. She was the most perfectly self contained person he'd ever met. More was the pity as far as he was concerned. He felt too embarrassed even to try and defend himself.

Then he noticed the room was silent. He looked at her. She was clearly waiting for a reply. But he didn't remember there being a question. He swallowed and tried to think of something he could say that wouldn't make things worse. He wanted to tell her that she was right, whatever her reasons, whatever she wanted, she was right. But it sounded stupid and he still felt the urge to apologise.

He looked at her tense shoulders. She was either going to cry or she was going to hit him. He hoped she'd just hit him and get it over with. He struggled and tried to say something. "I only meant that I'm sorry if I embarrassed you and I'm sorry if it's the pressure of working on the X-Files that makes it hard for you to choose what else to do with your life."

Careful wording. She wasn't finding it easy to stay angry. In any case she wasn't angry with him, she was angry with herself. He was just getting the overspill. To her disgust, she found she couldn't stop herself talking. "It's not the work that stopped me. It's me."

"Then why are you unhappy about it?"

She was shocked how easy it was to talk to him, so she kept going. "Because it makes me feel abnormal, unattractive, cold. And I can't even claim it's just because people only see me as a professional. I had these big ideas about how I'd make an impact with my work, how I'd excel. And most times when we're on cases together nobody thinks I'm even worth talking to. At every investigation I'm just your sidekick. The little woman trying to prove something by working in a man's job."

"No one who's worked with you thinks that."

"I'm fed up of constantly having to prove myself to strangers, it's most of the people we meet in the field. It doesn't happen when I work alone. When we're together they seem to think I'm either ornamental or passing through on the way to a white picket fence and a tribe of babies. You've seen them. They talk to you and ignore me. Even the ones who think you're a flake do it."

"I don't treat you that way."

"I didn't say you did. In fact, you don't even think of me as a woman. A surrogate sister to be looked after maybe, but not a woman."

"I don't think of you like that."

"Which bit am I wrong about? You thinking I need looking after, viewing me as a surrogate sister or the not remembering I'm a woman."

"I don't want a surrogate sister." He mumbled the words out, then steadied a little. "And, we're partners, don't tell me you don't try to look after me."

"But you're not going to argue about not viewing me as a woman. If it had been another woman who'd just walked in on you, you would have covered up quicker, you'd have been embarrassed, you'd have apologised immediately. But no, it's only Scully, one of the boys. So it doesn't mater. "

Silence

She glared at him. "What, no smart ass reply."

"I've already apologised."

She stood up and walked to the table. "And that's it. You don't want defend yourself? You don't want to tell me I don't understand?"

"What am I supposed to say?"

Scully wanted to carry on shouting at him then suddenly realised she had no idea why. What did she want him to say? "Forget it. I'm just a bit over emotional." She looked at him as he stared nervously up at her. "Hormones." She said sarcastically. "You know, woman stuff."

"Forget it? We spend most of our waking hours together and after three years you finally get round to telling me that you don't like the way I treat you. And then you tell me to forget it."

"It didn't bother me, I just assumed you treated everyone like that. That you were too obsessed with work and you didn't really have that much interest in women, apart from on video."

He felt a sudden surge of annoyance to go with the discomfort he was already feeling. "Great. We've done the obsessive, the porn, the missing sister, the people who think I'm a flake. We've had the suggestion that I try to look after you, when it's patently obvious that I regularly fail to. And you round it off with asking me if I'm interested in women. Is that a polite way of asking me if I'm gay or are you just reminding me I don't have a life? Any other buttons you'd like to push?"

She frowned. Had she really been working quite so systematically through the list? What was she really asking him. She stared at the floor.

He closed his eyes, he'd said more than he'd planned, time to back off. "We need to call a truce. I'll be more careful."

She recognised that he was redrawing the lines. She appreciated that, there were some spectres she wasn't ready to confront. Not now, maybe not ever. "I'll try not to push your buttons."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before settling to prepare the day's work.

Rachel Myers looked out of her window. She hadn't meant to kill them. It wasn't that she didn't wish them dead. She did. But she'd wished for lots of things over the years and none of them had ever come true.

She'd wished that she had got to know her father. She'd only been four when he died. A pale memory in a pilot's uniform.

She'd wished that her mother and sister had got out of the car with her after that bus hit them.

And for the past five years she'd wished some forgotten relative was going to show up. She'd forgive them if they told her they'd been out of the country, in hospital, in prison, anywhere. Any excuse would do, anything not to be so alone.

She looked at the bedroom walls. A prison. A cage. Her foster parents probably didn't view it like that. That just showed how little they knew about her.

When she was an eight year old it had been bad enough. They were understanding. She was depressed, how could it be otherwise after such a tragedy. She was withdrawn, they tried to pull her towards them, she kept her distance. They sent her to the therapists. She functioned.

Now she was thirteen. Very old. Older than her big sister would ever be. Older than she'd imagined she was ever going to be. And all those fires in her soul, in her heart, in her mind. All the ones they'd damped down. The embers had started to glow, then flicker and now they burned.

Mulder hadn't looked at Scully as they drove to the airfield. Scully had kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. They tried to talk about the case.

For the moment Scully was happy to work with the idea of freak weather conditions creating very freaky storm phenomena. She had been reading up on the latest theories on ball lightning, she wasn't quite ready to run with it, but it would do until something better came along. As far as she was concerned it was just a matter of checking up on the facts, writing the report and closing down the enquiry with a 'natural causes' verdict.

Mulder wasn't so comfortable with the idea of natural causes. He'd taken to referring to the hailstones, the whirlwind and the ball lightning as the probable murder weapons. He wanted to see who or what had committed the murders.

The open discussion that should be going on between them seemed to have been replaced by a nervous stalemate where each made a statement expressing a viewpoint and the other ignored it.

"You go looking for paranormal explanations even where you yourself recognise that a purely scientific explanation is perfectly satisfactory. You even came up with the scientific explanation yourself. Just pat yourself on the back for being smart and let's go home."

It was tempting. Mulder was not enjoying the case. But he got paid to solve crimes and stop lives being lost, not for putting together smart reports and handing them in on time. Well at least that was what he had always liked to think.

He had a nagging doubt about the deaths. A nagging doubt that ran deeper than just his usual mistrust of coincidence. If the weather had gone mad that night, why no reports of dead animals? Why no damaged buildings? Why did no one at the airbase, or in the town, or in the weather centre see or hear anything. How could three incidents of such intensity not have left some other evidence apart from three dead bodies.

They would investigate. They would review the information. Then they would either book the first flight home or they would get down to business.

THE AIRBASE

Back at the airfield Dana Scully was asking the questions.

The Base Commander ran through the histories on the two victims he knew.

Colonel Andrew Hughes, a pilot, pensioned off after an accident nine years earlier. Another man had died in the same crash. Hughes had always said how lucky he felt to be alive. No one would think he was lucky now. Years as a test pilot, then a pilot instructor, then survives a horrific crash. Then he gets killed by getting thrown around by a freak whirl wind.

Sergeant Martin Deacon, a mechanic. Been at the base ever since he completed his training eight years earlier. A good man with a young family. Killed by? Killed by some electrical accident. The Commander couldn't bring himself to say ball lightning though he was happy enough that there were more things in heaven and earth than.............

The Commander looked at them again. Now they'd come up with explanations that tied the deaths to freak storms he didn't really understand why they were still asking questions about the victims. "I'm not quite sure why you are here. I mean I know you guys can claim it's in your jurisdiction and all that. But doesn't the Bureau have too much real trouble on its hands than to deal with the weather and accidents?"

Dana Scully agreed. "We just want to get the facts accurate then we'll be out of here. Routine."

Mulder started to reply but Scully glared at him and he just thanked the Commander for his time.

BACK AT THE MOTEL - THAT AFTERNOON

Dana Scully sat in her motel room and reread that letter. The one that had arrived last Friday. The one from the FBI appointment's committee telling her that she had been shortlisted for the head of forensics job in the New York office. Shortlisted? She hadn't even applied. She knew what it meant. Someone had decided she should be offered the job and provided she behaved at the interview they would formalise the offer.

If it hadn't just arrived in her mail, she wouldn't have even thought about it. She'd given up thinking about changing jobs a long time ago, about two minutes after she met Fox Mulder for the first time in fact. Of course a lot of water had flowed since then. They'd been closed down. She'd been shipped out to Quantico, but at least that didn't mean giving up on her home and moving further from her mother. As it worked out, it didn't even mean giving up on Mulder and working on X-Files. He'd just found a way of involving her even though she wasn't his partner. And he'd even ended up working on X-Files despite them being closed down.

A lot of water had flowed. And a lot of blood. She'd grown up working on the X-Files. She'd given up her safety and even some of her beliefs to work with Fox Mulder.

She should be dancing in the streets. Not just a promotion. A promotion to a high profile job that would leave her on the fast track to a senior management appointment.

She'd heard about it before of course. Being head hunted. She giggled, she doubted that there were many other people in the Bureau who'd had literal experience of that. She remembered her neck on the chopping block and then the sound of gunfire as Mulder arrived to save her from the axe. Would Mulder spring into action again to save her from this new batch of head hunters? Did she want him to?

The timing had been shockingly appropriate. Over a year had gone by since Melissa's death and Mulder's near death. She'd switched off her feelings, clamped down her emotions to avoid being paralysed by those events and the memory, or rather lack of memory, of her abduction. Just recently she'd felt brave enough to start to lift the lid. The horror stories were becoming just memories and were no longer haunting her waking hours.

She'd been actively considering getting a life, considering doing more than just go to work and visiting her family. She'd actually taken to looking at men again, considering possibilities not just threats.

That was what had made her sister in law's remarks so ironic. She was just getting ready for action then her brother's wife decides she can lecture her on how to spend her time. It was enough to make her stay single just to show she could. Funny really.

She had some tough decisions ahead of her.

Scully had been looking for a good moment to tell Mulder the news. She'd been convinced all weekend that she was going to tell him as soon as she saw him on Monday. But by Monday morning something had got in the way. Then she'd got into that stupid row with him in his bedroom this morning. < Hormones > She muttered grimly. Give them an inch and they take it a mile.

After the argument she didn't have the nerve to tell him about the job interview. She'd get back to it. Once the temperature got back to normal.

Mulder couldn't put it down. This was not the weather playing tricks on a random collection of people. There was a link between the victims. Something chose them. He could feel it. He could smell it. He could touch it. He decided to forget about how the people died and just concentrate on who the victims were. Treat it like any murder investigation. The MO could wait till later.

He told Scully he was going to find out some more about the victims. She'd just shrugged. He knew what that meant. She thought there was so little validity to the case that she couldn't even be bothered to tell him to take care. She'd decided to sit in her room and write the closedown report. Fine. Well that was her report, he'd write his own, once the case was closed.

Mulder went to talk to the people who the third of the victims worked with. A bus driver. No known enemies. No known life. He'd always been a bit of a recluse. And after the accident five years ago he'd become even quieter. He'd blamed himself for the death of that woman and her child. Though everyone knew it hadn't been his fault, there had been a mistake during maintenance on the steering of the bus.

Another coincidence. Another of the victims involved as a survivor in a fatal accident. Mulder was trying to convince himself about coincidences but he didn't really believe in them.

He'd take his new 'evidence' back to Scully. He would not be flying back to Washington tomorrow.

Scully listened and let him drag her back out to the car.

It was just another straw in the wind. It didn't mean anything. They would follow it up of course. They could do the first part now. Go down to the library and dig out the newspaper articles on the bus crash and the plane crash. They could get the official versions of the same incidents from the base and the bus company in the morning. Then she could tell him that there was nothing worth investigating and they could go home.

She looked him over. Who would look after him if she didn't? Even the Agents who understood how good he was as an investigator were scared of him. And that was only counting the ones who liked him. The rest just claimed to be puzzled by how he'd managed to hold onto a job.

< Who would look after him? > She giggled quietly. She couldn't even look after a dog. Her dog got eaten on one of their cases, if Mulder was relying on her for protection he'd better check her track record. She giggled some more.

He heard it again. The first chuckle he could have mistaken for hiccups but the second time he was able to get a quick look at her, she was giggling. Why? He'd heard her laugh but that seemed like forever ago. These days he was lucky to see her smile. He corrected that, he had to be unlucky to see her smile. The only times she smiled at him was when he was coming round in a hospital bed. It was infectious, he smiled at the sound.

She got suddenly embarrassed and turned away so he couldn't see her face. Of course that just meant her fit of giggles got worse.

Mulder couldn't stand it any longer. "What? What's funny? Did I forget to get rid of the clown make up this morning?"

Oh no. Now it was bad. Now she really did have hiccups as well as uncontrollable giggles. Pretty soon she was going to black out because she couldn't breathe or her ribs were going to give up. "I was thinking about my dog." She spluttered out.

"Your dog? Queequeeg?"

"Yes." She gasped before banging her head on the window. Eventually she pushed the giggles far enough down to get her breath back.

Mulder watched her. Ok, so he'd found it hard not to laugh when the cannibal dog had got cannibalised but Dana? What had got into her? Talk about mood swings. She'd spat fire at him that morning. He found it hard to believe that she could be in a mood to laugh now. Hysterics? Hysterics from Dana Scully? No way, he couldn't even think of a sentence that could contain the words in such close proximity.

"The dog made you laugh?"

"No, I was thinking about you but then I thought of the dog."

"Oh, I'm flattered. At least you thought of me first."

That was enough to crack Scully's tenuous control and the giggles returned at full force. Mulder stopped the car before he lost the ability to drive.

[Sorry about that gratuitous nude scene. It just sort of crept in and then I couldn't find a way to get rid of it again. I'll try to be more careful in future - Joann]

Part 3/5

Dana Scully's remaining tingles of laughter died down pretty quickly as she saw what Mulder had printed from the microfiche. A five year old report describing the death of Jane Myers and her daughter Anna, who died when their car was hit by a bus. A nine year old report on the death of Lieutenant Alex Myers in an accident that had left Colonel Hughes injured.

"Too many coincidences, Scully. Way too many."

She said nothing. But somewhere in the back of her mind she was starting to agree.

THE MOTEL - THE NEXT MORNING

Mulder had been careful. When he got back after the run he put the chain on the bedroom door before he went to the shower. If Scully walked in on him again he wasn't sure if he'd promote anger or laughter and either way it wouldn't do anything for his feelings of paranoia or his ego.

There was something on her mind. Quite what he wasn't sure. He'd like to think it was something good. Something positive. He'd lain awake last night trying to think what it could be. He'd been pretty horrified when he'd realised that all the things he could think of that were good for her would be bad for him. A new job. A lover. A life. Even a new dog. One way of another they were either fatal or injurious to him. He knew it was a selfish response so he wouldn't let her see it. But he only had to pretend to her. He didn't have to pretend to himself.

They visited the air base again this time asking to meet anyone who knew the dead Lieutenant or who might know his family.

Scully led the questioning, mostly because Mulder looked like his mind was hundreds of miles away and she wanted to get it over and done with. She still did not believe there was a case. "A case of macabre coincidence, perhaps." She'd said grimly. But she did believe that it wasn't right to drop the work with so many loose ends. Mulder would just end up brooding and resentful if they did that.

The tie in to a family's tragedies seemed plain enough. What about the tie in to someone who might want revenge?

Mulder was convinced about the link and the avenging intelligence at work in the killings. But who or what was supplying the intelligence. A vengeful ghost? He wasn't fond of ghostly explanations, too convenient, too indeterminate a scapegoat. And why would the ghost of Mrs Myers or her daughter Anna take five years to decide it wanted revenge? Or if it was Lieutenant Myers why had it waited nine years?

Surely this had to be the work of a living person, someone who's life had been ripped apart by the deaths, someone who was now ready and able to fight.

They looked through the files on the family that the airforce had held to pay the pension. One surviving daughter and no other obvious close family. The daughter still lived nearby with foster parents. They'd need to get more on her family background and then go and visit tomorrow.

Mulder watched Scully carefully over dinner. He'd insisted they take the night off not just work straight through with a bag of sandwiches. She had tried to avoid him saying that she'd prefer to go to her room, write up her notes and grab a burger. He was not going to let her avoid him. He was a skilled investigator, he might be the Bureau's most unwanted but he hadn't lost the ability to get answers when he needed them.

She shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze.

When he was absolutely convinced he had her attention he started talking. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm just thinking about the case."

"Doubt it. You've said next to nothing about the case apart from tell me that there isn't a case."

She saw her opportunity to escape. All she had to do was feign annoyance. He'd panic and back off. "Are you saying I'm not pulling my weight?" She said aggressively.

He wasn't buying it, his voice stayed steady. "I'm asking you what's actually got you so preoccupied."

She kept up her show of defiance. "You are accusing me of acting unprofessionally."

"I'm accusing you of having more on your mind than just this case. And I don't think that's unprofessional. I've got more on my mind than just this case."

"Such as?" She said sharply, still determined to turn the tables, still determined to stop his questioning.

"Such as you've spent the last two days thinking about telling me something and avoiding the issue. At first I thought it was something good that had happened for you. But the longer you leave it the more nervous I get that it might be something bad and I'm getting worried."

She settled back. It was hard to get angry, it was even getting hard to act angry. She didn't want him to worry. She tried to say it. "No there's no bad news. Nothing for you to worry about."

She fidgeted nervously. < Good one Dana. Good lie. Of course he would think her leaving the X-Files was good news. > She swallowed.

He studied her words and movements. She was going to make him work for it. "Ok so you can just give me yes/no answers." He smiled cagily. "If I can get an explanation in twenty questions what do I win?"

She looked away.

He started the questions. "Are you considering leaving the X-Files?"

She hesitated but she knew she had to tell him some time and it might just as well be now. "Yes."

"For a new job?"

"Yes."

"Away from Washington?"

"Yes."

"With the Bureau?"

"Yes."

"Have you been offered Head of Forensics in New York?"

"Yes." She paused. "No." She paused again. "Maybe."

He leant back in his chair. "Surely, I've got to get a bonus prize for getting it in five."

"We didn't agree terms even for what you would win if you got it in twenty."

"Congratulations."

She stared at him. His tone wasn't sarcastic, it wasn't even accusing. It wasn't any of those things that she could have dealt with just by telling him to mind his own business. She almost ran back to her bedroom.

Mulder paid the check, went back to his room, got changed and went out jogging.

Mulder kept hoping his paranoia gland would kick into action. He'd like to persuade himself that promoting Dana Scully was just a less crude and therefore more effective way of splitting them up. It would have been nice to convince himself that he was in the middle of a conspiracy that was once more focusing its malicious attention on him.

Unfortunately he couldn't convince his mind to give him the luxury of such an egotistical explanation. Dana Scully was an extraordinarily talented pathologist. She was a skilled investigator. And, here he did allow himself a quick piece of self aggrandisement, she'd respected his ability to analyse crimes and crime scenes and he had helped her develop a sharp eye for detail that sometimes outpaced his own.

She was, unquestionably, the best person for the job. It was a big jump to make. She would be skipping a couple of supervisory grades. He couldn't resist a smile at that one, even after he stopped thinking of her as a spy, he'd often suspected that she'd been sent in to be his manager. And if she'd kept him in line 80% of the time then a well motivated team of twelve scientists could scarcely be a cause for concern.

Scully arrived back from a run of her own and went to Mulder's bedroom door. She couldn't hear the TV and the lights were out. No way had he gone to bed. She decided to sit out on the porch and listen to the night and wait for his return. Her run had cleared her head. She'd treated him pretty badly. She'd deliberately not told him, forced him to drag the information out of her and then she'd just run away.

"Hi. This seat taken."

She looked up and smiled, startled to find he'd managed to get so close without her noticing. Maybe he wasn't the only one who needed their ears testing.

She almost cooed the words in reply. "So. Good run?"

"No mutants, no men in black, no lights in the sky, no ball lightning. A bit dull really."

"Do you think I'd find New York dull?"

"Well it's a big place so I'm sure they have their fair share of mutants and I don't doubt they've got a full contingent of MIBs."

" What do you think I should do?"

"I don't understand."

"Should I try for it?"

His heart skipped a beat. He'd promised himself that he would at least retain a modicum of self respect at the end of this. His selfish thoughts would stay just that, just thoughts. His words wouldn't give the game away. "You're doubtful? I can't imagine anyone who'd do a better job."

"But is it the right job for me?"

He frowned, she was making this hard. Pretending to be delighted at her happiness was one thing, being expected to talk her into taking the job was quite another matter. He didn't think his acting skills were up to that. "It's a wonderful opportunity. I'm proud of you." There, he'd said it. Now if she'd just leave him alone he could escape to his room and wallow in self pity for a few hours.

"Anyway I might not get it. They just say I'm shortlisted."

"How long ago did you apply?"

"I didn't."

He nodded. "Those are the best sort of interviews."

She allowed herself a brief smile and tried a joke. "How would you know?

He smiled in reply. "Ah well even the misconduct proceedings are easier if you already know they've found you guilty and it doesn't matter what you say."

She swallowed. Who would look after him if she left?

THE FOLLOWING MORNING AT THE MOTEL

Scully studied Mulder, he'd given her another of his mini lectures detailing the evidence and his theory.

She'd told him about her possible promotion. He'd been supportive. She felt like crying on his shoulder and telling him that she didn't want to leave. But that would have been dishonest. She did want to leave. Or maybe she didn't. She hadn't really made up her mind. Her emotions were running high, boiling up just below the surface. If she was going to get through this case she was going to have to shut them down.

So she was at her most professional. Or was it her coldest. She was rationalising the evidence, picking apart the chain of assumptions that Mulder was using. Mulder could feel the chill coming from her. He understood why it was there. He was finding it easier just to talk facts about the case than to talk about the fact that it might be one of the last ones they would work on together.

She looked up from the official reports on the accidents. "We still don't have anything Mulder."

"So you said."

"The third victim has no obvious links to either accident. The person most directly affected by the death of the Myers is a child, Rachel Myers. You're not accusing her of this are you?"

"I haven't even met her. Since when did I accuse people without evidence."

Dana Scully tried to stop herself from reacting but it was too late. He'd already seen the look in her eyes, he read it as meaning 'all the time'. She hadn't meant it so harshly.

He spoke coolly. "The link is Rachel Myers. The motive is revenge. The murder weapons are the storms."

"And the evidence is? What? Sparse? Inadequate? Entirely absent?"

"You mean do I have something I can take to a Court? Of course not. Do I have something I can take to Rachel and use to try and get her to talk to me. Yes. And if I'm right about this, will I try and use that information to stop any more killings. Yes. I've got enough to try and that means I have to try."

"You've got nothing. Do you know how much energy there is in a lightning strike, in a hailstorm, in a whirlwind?" She paused for an instant while he looked dejectedly at the floor. "Well take my word on this it's a lot more than the human body has available."

"Hailstones have always been associated with poltergeist assaults, it's one of their weapons. There are reports of hailstorms actually occurring inside buildings that are under attack."

"Poltergeist. What next Mulder? You going to ask me if I think Rachel has recently reached puberty and we're watching a rerun of Carrie?"

"If you mean are poltergeist attacks often associated with adolescent girls then the answer's yes. It's even got echoes in religious history with the ritual cleansing of women and girls."

"Ritual cleansing, ritual chauvinistic crap. You suggesting we reintroduce it?"

"I'm suggesting that fear may have been a motive as well as control."

"Any other superstitions you'd like to see revived. Perhaps we could start ducking witches again."

"I'm only saying that we should go and talk to Rachel Myers. I'm not suggesting that we have her burnt at the stake."

RACHEL MYER'S HOME

Dana Scully studied the floor. What was he trying to prove? That he could work with or without her? And that he could work without her even when she was still stood right next to him? This was doing nothing for her temper.

She'd felt so up and down in the last few days. The down side to lifting the lid on her emotions was the way they kept finding their way out even when she'd decided to batten down the hatches again.

Rachel's foster parents were furious. Rightly so. Their daughter who'd been through so much had just been put through a grilling by a Federal Agent. To make matters worse Dana Scully wasn't even going to be able to defend him this time. She couldn't claim that they had found the murder weapon in her room or her fingerprints on the victim's possessions. No, all that had happened was that her partner had left a young girl hysterical by accusing her of summoning up weather storms.

Good one. For the first time, she felt almost relieved that she had that job interview lined up. There was little point worrying over quitting as his partner, he wasn't going to have a job for much longer. Not unless she could get him on a flight back to Washington and find some way of calming things down here. She made her mind up. She'd rescue him from this. It would be a parting gift. But not before she told him what she thought of him.

She waited until they were both safely back in the car with the doors closed. "That was inexcusable."

"What?"

"Driving that child to hysterics."

"I didn't."

"Really." She paused and glared at him. "So who did?"

"No one. If she was actually hysterical she wouldn't have been able to keep in control. She was play acting."

"That's ridiculous. 'Keep in control', what's that supposed to mean?"

He looked unhappily back at her. "It's something you used to be good at."

She glared at him. Good. He was making it easy for her to leave.

Keep in control? Fine, she had plenty of control. She took the emotion from her voice. "We're on the 6 O'Clock flight out of here. I'm going back to see that girl's family to try and make sure you've got a job to fly back to. Just try and keep out of trouble until I get back."

"You'll have to forgive me if I seem less than grateful. I won't be flying tonight. And I'd prefer the suspect to have regrets in her own time not be given a clean run by my partner."

Scully got out of the car and walked back to the girl's house, her eyes were flaming with fury. And regret. She didn't want their last case together to end like this. That was when she realised it. She supposed she should be grateful to him for it. He'd clarified the situation perfectly. She wanted that job. This was their last case. A success in the final case would have been nice but she'd make do with this. Walk away and no regrets.

Mulder leant his head against the steering wheel. No regrets. He didn't regret anything he'd said to Rachel. He had not made her hysterical. He had made a point of not upsetting her. And he didn't regret anything he'd said to Scully. Though he did regret how easy it seemed it was for him to upset her.

He watched her leaving the house. Her professional soothing expression, he hated that look, especially when it was used on him. But she was using it on Rachel's foster parents and from the knowing looks they were giving her and the pitying glances they were throwing at him she'd talked them out of an official complaint. How could she, what was she trying to do to him? Was this just some sick way of making sure he didn't regret her leaving.

Rachel lay on her bed and smiled. Fox Mulder, great name, his folks must have had a sense of humour. And so did she, it was just that not everyone appreciated it. Her little fit had done the trick. She didn't think it was going to. Instead of getting embarrassed and apologising when she'd started to scrunch her hands and get hysterical he'd just sat and smiled. Not much of a smile, just enough for her to know that he'd got the joke.

It was so funny. His partner had come to her rescue. Then when her foster parents kicked up a fuss. His partner had gone to his rescue. But looking at him in the car he didn't look like he wanted rescuing.

With a pang that might have been regret she realised that maybe she hadn't wanted rescuing either. It would have been good to get it off her chest, to ease her conscience. She wasn't sure if it was real. He seemed to think it might be real though.

But tomorrow morning she would find out for sure, one way or another. Either it was just a silly, dreadful coincidence and she'd rustled up the whole thing from her overwrought imagination or it was real. If it was her imagination then she could tick herself off for being stupid and she'd get a clear conscience. If it was real then she would know she had the power to change her life and she'd get revenge.

If she'd planned it herself it couldn't be better. A bus full of her classmates off on a trip. She wouldn't be going, she was going to have a stomach upset tomorrow. That would be another thing her parents would blame on the FBI man. Then if things worked out they would forgive him, because in a roundabout way he would have saved her life.

Scully kept watching him. He kept his eyes locked on the road ahead. She tried to talk. "I had to do that. You know I did."

"Whatever."

"Look. There was no way I could let you get yourself suspended or fired over something like this. We haven't even been able to identify a crime."

He just kept looking straight ahead.

She couldn't take the silence but she'd had enough of trying to sound apologetic. He could apologise to her. She'd saved his job. She didn't deserve this. "Fine. Get yourself fired on your next case. When I don't feel obliged to bail you out."

"So how did you rescue me this time. Oh. I know. You gave them that little selection you gave me the other morning. Obsessive. Difficult childhood. No life."

She sat up straight in the seat.

What could she say. He was wide of the mark but he wasn't completely out of court. < I just said you were tired and frustrated and you forgot for a moment that you were dealing with a child. > She said it in her head. She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. Instead she just said that they weren't that hard to convince, that they'd sometimes felt the wrath of Rachel's emotions before they remembered the difficult life she'd led and soothed her instead.

Mulder stopped in front of the motel and waited for Dana Scully to get out.

She was about to close the door when she realised he hadn't switched off the engine. "Mulder. Why aren't you getting out of the car. We need to pack."

"You need to pack. I'm not leaving."

She closed the door and whispered goodbye as he drove away.

Part 4/5

He'd worked alone before. He'd do it again. Though working alone when she was actually still physically next to him was harder than he ever imagined possible. He'd felt relieved when she got out of the car. He headed back to the airbase. He needed to link in the third victim with the other two. Why did Rachel want him dead? Was there anyone else she wanted dead.

< She doesn't know her own strength. > Ironic, but true. Wishing a thing and having it happen was shocking enough. Having it happen and not putting it down to weird and twisted coincidence would require a particularly strange imagination. Precognition if she was inclined to mysticism. But cause and effect? To believe that, you really had to be a believer in extreme possibilities.

He'd wanted to sow the seeds of that belief in Rachel's mind. He'd hoped that the combination of self examination she was going through coupled with the idea that the FBI might be keeping an eye on her would be enough, if not to make her confess then at least to stop her repeating the test. Now with the watchful eye of the Bureau apparently removed he couldn't guess what her next action might be.

Mulder knew he'd done this before. He'd dug out the paperwork on Sergeant Deacon and on the crash that had killed Lieutenant Myers. Deacon wasn't there. He wasn't in the ground crew. He wasn't even a trainee at the base. He'd arrived over a year after the crash. The story was exactly the same as it was when he read it yesterday. He closed his eyes and tried to think.

It hit him only as he closed his eyes. Scully had finally left him. He put the thought to one side. He had a case to solve. He also had something to prove. To himself and to her.

Mulder started the search again, this time at the bus company. Sure enough the mechanics from the air base regularly moonlighted as evening shift maintenance workers at the depot.

He looked back to the accident report from five years ago. The report gave nothing away apart from the fact that it was a mechanical failure and blaming human error. The wording was careful, bland, sanitised for use by an insurance company was Mulder's guess.

Mulder reviewed the files from the period around the incident. Heads had rolled. The man responsible for purchasing spares had been fired. The suppliers had been changed soon afterwards. At a guess it was all about faulty spares but officially they'd put the blame on part time mechanics. And the leader of the evening shift was Sergeant Deacon.

That Rachel Myers blamed Deacon would not come as a surprise. It certainly didn't surprise Mulder. He was convinced. He'd been convinced before he found the link, he was absolutely convinced now. The question was, was the revenge over?

The one thing that Mulder had got from the meeting with Rachel was that she felt bad about it but that she wasn't sure why she should fell bad, wasn't sure if it was anything to do with her. She'd wanted them dead, Mulder didn't doubt that. But she was shocked when they'd died.

She was flexing her muscles. There were other people she wanted dead. He knew it. He could feel it. She wasn't a killer. Yet, she wanted them dead. And it had, of course, been death by natural causes. What could be more natural than the weather?

Mulder understood it perfectly. There were people he wanted dead and he wouldn't kill them. But if it were just to happen, that his tormentors were found dead? He wouldn't grieve for them either.

He had to convince Rachel that if any more people died, then natural as the cause might be she would still be responsible. That what had happened so far was coincidence or accident but if something else happened it would be deliberate.

He puzzled over the problem for a while. He couldn't achieve anything by going back to Rachel's house. He wouldn't be allowed to see her. The complaint from her foster parents would definitely go off to Washington. Scully would get a call on her cellular, drag him out of the house and she'd probably shoot him. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. A pretty bizarre partnership, amazing it had lasted so long.

He put the thought behind him and decided on a different approach. If he couldn't talk to Rachel he needed to talk to one of Rachel's friends and find out who else Rachel might have a grudge against.

He called her teacher and got himself invited over.

Mulder listened to Rachel's teacher describe the quiet, morose girl. The picture she was painting was bleak. Rachel was an outsider, her regular stays in hospital for emotional crises and minor accidents had isolated her further.

Mulder came away with the sick feeling that looking for Rachel's friends could be a slow and not very productive job. As for the people she might have a grudge against, how about the whole of her class at school.

Rachel was going on a school trip tomorrow. A bus load of kids out on a geology field trip. Mulder wondered about how to tag along, he headed back to the motel to think about it.

Dana Scully stood in the airport building, hoping that at any moment her partner would see sense and come hurrying up to the desk. As the minutes ticked away she knew it wasn't happening. Finally she walked back to the desk, showed them the FBI ID and explained that her partner must be on the verge of breaking the case and that she didn't need the seats after all.

She couldn't explain what she was doing even to herself. But she'd never run out on him before and she wouldn't do it now. She caught a cab to the motel.

She knocked on the door of his room. Mulder opened it. He smiled and chose not to ask her about the flight. < She was back. Just one more time for old times sake.>

Scully quizzed him on what he'd done after he had dropped her off. He recounted what he'd found out about the mechanic and how neatly the last piece had fallen into place. He told her about Rachel's lonely life.

They thought about their next move.

Dana Scully lay awake. Was it possible that Mulder was right? Of course not. Malevolent weather, controlled by an evil poltergeist called upon to give a young girl the opportunity for revenge.

But then she'd seen a lot of things that weren't possible. She remembered being thrown against a wall by a small child who vanished when the Calusari exorcised his brother's body. She remembered a man who had looked so like Mulder when she opened the motel room door but who attacked her and who didn't look at all like Mulder afterwards as he held her on the bridge. She remembered a man burnt alive when there was no fire.

She didn't want to believe in this. If she believed in this then her days as a scientist were over. How could someone who wasn't a scientist lead a Forensics team? And if Mulder was right even when he came up with an explanation this stupid, how could she leave him?

Rachel concentrated and thought and dreamed. She dreamt of the creek that her school trip bus would need to cross and of the ludicrously small and rickety wooden bridge it would need to cross over. It was the only sensible route to the rock formations that her geology class were off to study. It was amazing that it was still in service. Yet, it had been inspected only a few weeks earlier by the highways department and given a clean bill of health.

She thought about it. She could see the beetles boring through the wood softening the very heart of the pillars. She could see the connecting pins as they changed from iron to rust. She could smell the damp and the fungus that was eating away at the foundations. She could hear the creak of failing timber against sagging metal brackets.

The whole idea was stupid. She knew nothing would happen. The deaths had been freak accidents. If anything they were gifts from her parents to make up for all the Christmas and birthday presents that she'd missed. She didn't have that kind of influence over nature. She didn't have that kind of influence over her own body let alone the weather. So now she'd dream of revenge over the ones who taunted her and the others who ignored her. Just a dream though.

Mulder had to talk to Rachel again, or at least he had to be able to watch her with other people and find out for himself if the second hand reports from her teacher were accurate. If he knew it was over and that the time for revenge had passed, then he would let the case go. Scully could write whatever she liked into the field notes. He wouldn't argue. She could write case closed on the file and underline another page in her life. Then she could underline it again to mark it as the end of a chapter. Then she could move on.

But if it wasn't over. What would he do then? He'd do what he would have to do. He'd try and stop people from getting hurt. And if it brought about a confrontation between him and Rachel's foster parents? Then that was fine. And if it brought about a confrontation between him and Scully. Then he would cope with that. He suspected it wouldn't come to that, he got the feeling from her that she wasn't going to fight him on this. She might not want to help but she'd decided that she could at least come back.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING - RACHEL'S SCHOOL

Mulder watched the students in the yard. He hadn't seen Rachel yet. That didn't concern him, if she was lonely and friendless among the crowd of faces then she might have preferred just to be alone, away from the crowd. She could just show up at any minute, climb on the bus, walk to an empty seat and wish for invisibility. He watched the seconds tick away.

Scully would travel with the students. She would arouse less suspicion and concern if she travelled alone. And they couldn't take the risk of Rachel seeing him and screaming. Play acting or otherwise.

The time drifted towards 8 and still no sign. The teacher appeared and spoke to Scully. "I've just spoken to her mother on the phone. Rachel's not feeling very well. Her mother puts it down to her getting so upset yesterday." The teacher looked suspiciously at the car containing Mulder. "She got upset by your colleague apparently. Is she in trouble?"

"Not the way you mean." Scully said without explanation.

Scully walked back to the car and got into the passenger seat. "She's not coming. Too upset apparently. Now she's got a stomach upset."

"Of course. My fault I presume."

"And that's what everyone else presumes as well."

"Thanks."

"Well aren't you the little ray of sunshine this morning."

"Any reason why I should be?"

Scully didn't need his whining, there was a snap in her voice as she replied. "I came back didn't I. I can't think why. You clearly didn't need me. You were getting along so well with Rachel's parents and I'm sure you could get along just as well with her teacher."

For a split second Mulder wanted to drive to the motel. Get packed. Fly home to DC. Wave her off on the next flight to New York. Then he remembered this was his case. He was the only one who thought it was a case and if he was right, then he was the only one who could crack it. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was no more capable of apologising for the deteriorating atmosphere between them than she was. And that was fine. Apologies weren't needed.

He started the car.

Scully drummed out the words. "So are you going to tell me where we're headed or should I guess?"

"Rachel's."

"Now how did I already know that."

"You've got psychic powers you've been holding out on me?"

Scully kept her voice polite but form. "I don't know if I'll be able to stop her foster parents from a complaint if you go after her again."

"And I don't know if I want to read any more probability studies on the incidence of freak weather formations."

"You really believe this stuff don't you?"

"I told you I was willing to go with David Copperfield right at the start of this case, but you wouldn't accept that explanation either."

"What are you going to do when we get to Rachel's?"

"Stop the car."

"And then?"

"Make her hysterical."

"Mulder you're going to be laughing your way to the unemployment queue if you keep this up."

Scully sat back against the seat and considered it. One last time for old time's sake. She'd run with him. She'd even play interference for him. But she wouldn't let him torture that unhappy young girl who'd been through so much. Didn't he understand her pain? Usually he'd be falling over himself to empathise with her. Survivors and victims. He'd always been a soft touch for them. Lucy Householder. The little boy who'd got messages from his TV set when his sister went missing. Even his mother.

She turned to him and said in a voice that offered no room for argument. "I'll talk to Rachel. You talk to the foster parents."

He inhaled noisily. But then stayed silent considering the idea. Gradually he relaxed the muscles in his arms and shoulders. At last he replied. "Ok."

She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't going to fight her on this. She would treat him like her partner one more time. "Any particular questions you want me to put? Anything you want me to look for?"

They talked until they stopped outside Rachel's home. Partners again. At least for now.

Scully knew that Mulder hadn't been behaving all that differently to normal. She was the one who was different on this case and whether that difference was a conscious decision to distance herself or an unconscious lifting of the lid on years of pent up irritation she couldn't tell for sure. Maybe now she was seriously contemplating leaving she'd given herself permission to tell him what she thought about his theories and not just to act as some dumb sounding board asked for the occasional scientific tidbit to bolster his preconceptions.

They knocked on the door to the house. One car in the drive. Rachel's foster mother answered the door, nodding politely to Scully before turning to scowl at Mulder.

"I'd like to talk to Rachel if I may. And Agent Mulder has some questions he'd like to ask you afterwards."

Karen Jackson relaxed immediately. Dana was ok, she wouldn't lose patience with her fragile child. Mrs Jackson had no desire to talk to Mulder but at least if she did then she would know where he was and that he would get nowhere near Rachel.

Scully noted the change in Karen Jackson's posture and knew she was softening a little. "Please come and sit in on Rachel's interview. It's just an informal thing."

Karen Jackson shook her head. "No. I'm sure you'll be fine with her."

"It's best if you're there."

Mulder studied the floor. Definitely by the book. But that was probably ok right now. Right now, he couldn't think of anything better to do.

Mulder sat in the kitchen, the unspoken deal was that if he stayed away from Rachel, Mrs Jackson would try to help. Mulder could feel his frustration rising but trod it down. It would buy him time to think. Scully would ask the right questions. She'd gather real answers. Mulder didn't doubt her ability as an interviewer. Mulder decided to give himself the luxury of a few quiet moments thinking before he made his next move or his next remark.

He didn't like the way his thoughts took him. It was too dreadful to contemplate. If Rachel wasn't quite sure about the curse or the power she seemed to have, perhaps she would try something more. If she was going to try again, she might try something so awful that no one would blame her. He thought of a bus load of school students out on a day trip. He thought of their derided and lonely class mate in the other room talking to Dana Scully. He thought about it and he hoped that he was wrong.

Rachel stared at the Scully woman. < Did Rachel know the names of the people who'd died? Had she seen anything strange the night they'd died? Had she had any strange dreams or nightmares, before or since the deaths? Had she dreamt about anyone else getting hurt? >

What a stupid set of questions. Stupid questions demanded stupid answers. She provided them. Seen anything? Of course not, they lived nearly five miles from the base, how could she have seen anything. Dreams? She didn't have them, at least she didn't remember them even when she did. Rachel looked unhappily at her foster mother. "I used to have nightmares. But they were a long time ago." She said solemnly.

Mrs Jackson felt like crying. Hadn't once been enough? They'd forgiven the first intrusion by that male Agent yesterday after this female one had begged forgiveness for him. Then they show up again, while Rachel was home from school feeling unwell and they were dragging all the nightmares back into her life. It was intolerable. She would make them leave and if they came back she'd call the police. Then she would call her husband. Then she would complain to their superiors.

Rachel spotted the look on her foster mother's face. Perfect. Looked like it was now or never. She started to cry and shake. Her mother moved to her side putting an arm around her and started screaming at Dana Scully to leave.

Scully stood up and started to pull nervously away. She'd done exactly the same thing as Mulder had done the day before. Put too much pressure on an unhappy child. She thought of her questioning and felt ashamed. She'd asked the same sort of impossible, nonsensical questions Mulder had given her. In a last show of loyalty to him she'd betrayed herself as a scientist but more dreadfully she'd betrayed herself as a human being. She mumbled apologies to the mother and daughter and walked away.

As soon as she entered the kitchen she met an agitated Fox Mulder heading out. He spoke quickly. "Did you get anything? Where is she?"

"I've left her crying in her mother's arms."

"It's the school trip, Scully. If anyone's at risk right now it's them. We've got to get the trip cancelled."

Mulder's anxious voice sobered up Scully's thoughts. "What are you talking about? Didn't you hear me. I've left her in tears. Do you have no feelings left?"

"Trust me. Just this once more. Get them to stop that bus. If I'm wrong it won't do any damage. Their trip will get delayed but that's all."

He didn't bother to say what it would mean if he was right.

She stared at him. His eyes were pleading with her. She'd put her self recriminations on hold for one more time. She regularly disagreed with him on the interpretation of evidence, on conclusions, on explanations but she'd seldom known him to wrong about the action needed from them.

"Please Scully, find some way to stop that bus."

"And you'll be doing what?"

"Talking to Rachel."

She swallowed hard. And prepared to argue. But what was she going to say? Tell him not to talk to her? She couldn't claim that she could do a better job.

He walked into the family room. No sign of Rachel. "Mrs Jackson, where's Rachel?"

Now it was Mrs Jackson's turn to turn away crying. "Leave her alone. Why won't people leave her alone."

But Mulder was out of the door before the warning words were spoken. He looked out into the yard then into the street and caught a glimpse of white T Shirt and blue jeans running into the drive to another house. He followed her.

Scully had decided to roll with it. Forget the doubts. She called the school and got the cellular number for the teacher who was leading the trip. As she pushed the numbers she willed herself to forget her misgivings. The digital voice at the other end of the line told her the same story as it had on her first two attempts. Out of the service area. The bus was heading for a deserted canyon in what was in any case a sparsely populated district. It was hardly surprising.

Scully started on her second line of attack. She called the bus company. Were they in radio contact with the driver? Yes. Or rather no. Apparently not at the moment. The bus was too many miles away and too much in the radio shadow of the canyons.

Scully moved to go and find her partner. Just how sure was he? Should she be sending up a police helicopter or something. The bus now had almost an hour's head start on them and they had no idea what route it would be following. She started to leave the house to find Mulder. She walked in on Mrs Jackson.

Scully looked nervously towards the sobbing woman. "I'm sorry, Mrs Jackson. Do you know where Agent Mulder went?"

"I don't know where they are. He's followed Rachel. She's not going to talk to him. He'll just upset her more. I trusted you."

Scully stopped in her tracks torn between her loyalty to Mulder and her desire to comfort and apologise to this woman. But overriding both of those feelings was the dread that unless she did as Mulder suggested something dreadful could happen. "I trust him. We wouldn't be doing this unless we needed her help."

"Her help with what? How can she possibly know anything that would help you?"

Scully struggled with her scientific mind. There was no easy way to say what Mulder thought was going on or what Scully feared might be happening.

Mrs Jackson studied her and spoke quietly. "This is about Rachel's dreams isn't it. She knows things. Sees things that are going to happen. You think that she's seen something in her dreams?"

Scully felt so much tension in her body even breathing was an effort. She looked at Mrs Jackson. "Yes. Something like that. We think she may have some fears about the safety of the people on the school trip."

Karen Jackson breathed out heavily. "She seemed afraid this morning, but I thought that was just because she had got upset yesterday."

Scully nodded reassuringly. "Do you know what route the school trip is taking today?"

"There's only one route, they have to go over the Red Heart Bridge. We went up to much the same place a couple of week's ago. It's a lovely spot but very isolated."

"Was Rachel with you?"

"Of course."

"Did you see anything out of the ordinary?"

Part 5/5

Mulder was sitting on the garden wall talking quietly, insistently, to Rachel. Rachel was still shouting. "It's ok Rachel. You don't have to scream at me. I just want you to talk to me. I think there are some things you want to talk about."

Rachel felt a shiver of doubt and fear run through her. He just kept talking. Not impatient, just persistent. She became quieter. After minutes she summoned up a reply. "I've nothing to talk about."

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. The first words were the hardest. He kept the pressure up. "Are you sure? Are you sure you've not seen something, felt something, as though someone you know might be in danger?"

She looked at him. He was offering her a get out clause that she might just have sensed something bad. An escape route so she could tell him what was going to happen without admitting that she was to blame. What was going to happen? She was thinking as weird as he was now. She'd just had some stupid daydreams and now she was imagining that they were real.

But he kept talking and she kept listening.

At last she broke her silence. "I had a strange dream last night." She paused she watched his head nod with reassurance. "It was about the bridge, the old one over the creek. I think it's rotten. Weak."

"And is this a bridge that the bus from your school trip has to go over?"

"Yes, it's almost the end of the route."

Dana Scully had finished talking to Mrs Jackson. A bridge by the canyon that the field trip was on its way to study. Old, rickety, rusty looking. She'd mentioned its decrepit appearance to Rachel.

Scully put in a call to the Sheriff's office. < A helicopter? Where did she think she was, Washington? > She had no time to argue, so she just told him to get one on the track of that bus immediately.

Scully knew that she couldn't bet on anything arriving from the next town in time to deal with it. Even if the Sheriff sprung into instant high pressure action the delay would still be there. But there was little more she could do without evidence. She needed to talk to Mulder. She needed his reassurance that they were doing the right thing.

Mulder led Rachel back to the house. She was calm now. Almost relaxed.

Mulder looked over at Scully, "is the bus coming back?"

"I couldn't contact it. It's out of cellular range and the bus company private radio can't reach them. I've asked the Sheriff to intercept them with a helicopter."

Mulder frowned and spoke quietly, nervously. "Rachel thinks the bridge may be faulty."

Scully turned to Rachel. "You were over there only a week or so ago weren't you. Did you see something wrong when you were there?"

Rachel looked startled. Another escape route. "I don't remember seeing anything odd but maybe that's why I had the weird dream."

Mulder nodded his approval. Then looked at Scully, "I think we should get moving." He turned to Mrs Jackson as they left. "We'll let you know if Rachel was right about the problem."

They returned to the car and started to drive. The bus would be over an hour into its journey, that meant it was at least half way to the Bridge. It was almost academic how fast they drove but that didn't mean he could bear to stick to the speed limits. There was just that chance that they might have been delayed leaving the school or maybe they'd had to stop somewhere. Just a chance that maybe they could catch them before they reached the bridge.

The chance that they didn't want to talk about was the chance that the police helicopter wasn't going to get to the bridge before the bus.

Dana Scully called the Sheriff again but he wasn't in his office. His Deputy knew that they'd requested a unit to come out from the nearest base but didn't know if it had taken off yet. He gave them the phone number of the control centre.

Scully's next call was to the police helicopter base, she started talking to the controller. "It's not been dispatched yet?"

Mulder's grip on the steering wheel tightened and his foot pushed a little harder on the pedal. The frustration Mulder was feeling was compounded by the fact that he could hear only half of the conversation. Dana Scully could hear both sides but it wasn't making her feel any better. She held it together, calm and insistent.

Mulder turned to look at her.

She kept on talking with that urgent. no nonsense professionalism that got action. "How long will it take for one from another base to get to Red Heart Bridge." A pause. "Ok, if that's the best you've got." A pause. "Yes. Immediately."

As she pressed the call end button she was breathing heavily and she could almost hear Mulder's heart beating, she could certainly hear her own. "The nearest unit was already on a job, they were sending it once it got back."

"Don't tell me." Mulder said dispassionately. "And the Sheriff told them that it would be ok for us to wait and not to call one up from out of the area."

Scully sighed her acknowledgement. "They say they'll have a unit at the bridge in under an hour."

"Not soon enough."

He could be right, she knew that, but she couldn't just say it. "It could be. It's a lot quicker than we'll get there. The bus may have left late, be running slow, the traffic leaving the town could have delayed it."

"Of course and of course the bridge may not be about to collapse."

"Stop and turn around." She said sharply and suddenly.

"What?"

"Head back to town, let's go to the Airbase. The police will be at the Bridge before us. But if we can get someone out from the base..."

By the time she'd finished the words, the car was already facing back towards town.

The guards on the gate were used to seeing them. They accepted that if Mulder was talking in that harsh, heavy voice and saying that they had to see the commander urgently it was probably true. The Feds had been models of good manners and patience when they'd been asked to sign in and have the car checked out on their previous visits. So that urgency probably meant something. They waved them through.

The Base Commander got a call from the gate about his visitors and was already walking to the door when the Agents arrived.

It was an unspoken thing. Dana Scully would get the Commander's cooperation. Mulder hung back as she went in to action.

Her voice was tight and intense. The Commander listened.

She saw the Commander waiting for an explanation of why she was so convinced that there was a problem. She felt a sudden pang. Four years ago she would have had no doubt how to reply, four years ago she wouldn't even have made the request in the first place. Even two years ago, she would have covered the request in a fog of not quite truths, < worried about a mechanical fault on the bus, odd noises reported from the bridge > Something. She remembered how appalled she'd been at Mulder for the way he gave evidence in Court. Tooms. Modell. Mulder had just said what he thought and ignored the way the Judges looked at him as if he was the one who should be locked up.

She kept it tight. "Sir. Can we discuss this once we're in the air. We aren't 100% sure, but we can't take chances when there are lives at stake." Quiet, softly spoke, but quite definite.

The Commander recognised the tone and gave his orders.

Scully and Mulder walked over to join the helicopter as it went through its pre flight checks.

Scully turned to her partner and spoke nervously. "Do you really think that bridge has a problem?"

"Don't know, we should call the highway's people though and get an inspection done."

The engine noise drowned out further attempts to talk. They strapped themselves and a couple of minutes later they were looking down at the near deserted road.

Mulder glanced at his watch, he didn't like what it kept telling him. Time was running out. But they'd done everything they could and now it was up to fate. Every minute felt like an hour. He turned to look at Scully and knew that his expression at that moment would be a mirror image of hers.

There was time. Enough time. Provided they weren't unlucky. Provided this wasn't the one day a school trip left on time, that this wasn't the one time when there had been no traffic delays leaving the town and provided that they hadn't got a school bus driver who was a speed freak. And even then this only mattered if the Bridge was faulty. He half smiled as he tried to imagine explaining the misuse of police and air force helicopters to a disbelieving Assistant Director. Actually that conversation would be fraught enough even if the bridge was falling down.

But he'd be happy to be proven wrong over and over again if it meant no one was going to die. For some things certainty was important, because closure couldn't occur without certainty. But for this, no certainty was required. He didn't have to be 100% confident. Not even 50%. He wasn't sure where the acceptable limits were. But he was certain that this time, he was doing the right thing even if it turned out there was no problem.

The pilot pointed out a shadow on the ground. A bus. He moved in low so that the bus driver could see him. After the pilot was sure he'd got a reaction, they landed on the road ahead of it.

The teacher recognised the two Agents as they approached the bus and listened in mystified silence as she heard their advice to cancel the trip. She didn't understand it, but no one sent out a military helicopter unless they had cause for concern so she did as they asked.

The Agents stood close together watching as the bus turned and pulled back towards town . The only thing either of them was feeling was relief.

Mulder turned to Scully. "Thanks."

She was surprised. He seldom said that to her and she seldom said it to him. It was a word that would get devalued if they used it too often. She didn't think she deserve it this time.

Scully felt the same tug of emotions playing over her body that she had felt several times that week. She was working with him again. She was as relieved as he was that the bus had been stopped. But she'd come so close to abandoning the case and abandoning him if he didn't drop the case. And now she was relieved that they'd stopped a school trip for no good reason other than something a young girl had seen in her dream. Where was the scientist in that?

She replied solemnly, scientifically. "There may be nothing to this you know."

"Of course, but thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt."

They had turned back the bus and now they decided to fly on to stop anyone else from using the Bridge until the engineering inspection was done. Scully strapped herself back in the seat of the helicopter. If there was something wrong at that bridge she worried over how was she going to rationalise that.

THE BRIDGE

A poke at the bridge woodwork with a penknife had given them enough to make them feel like they'd done the right thing.

The look of horror on the face of the surveyor was enough to confirm it. The Highways Department would review the last inspection. Check their processes and procedures. To find that a structure could deteriorate so quickly.... Either gross incompetence by their engineer or a frightening new mode of failure in this kind of bridge. The bridge would stay closed until it could be rebuilt. A car might just have made it across. But a bus. A bus would have been the last straw.

That night as the Agents sat in the diner by their motel they were both confident in the knowledge that they'd done the right thing. Mulder was happy with the day's work.

Scully still hated that she had done the right thing but for no good reason. She was working on an explanation. The girl had been there a couple of weeks ago with her family. But the bridge had only been inspected a month before. Could it really be that the girl had seen something the surveyor hadn't. Scully explained her theory to Mulder.

To her frustration he just smiled back at her. "Yes. And she's a better meteorologist than the weather centre.

She swiftly moved to safer ground and an apology. "You were right about Rachel." He allowed himself another smile. "What that she summoned up storms of poltergeists?"

She smiled in return. "No. Not that. I accused you of mishandling her, making her hysterical. I was wrong. You understood her."

"I knew she had something she needed to tell someone."

"It should have been me who was in tune with her."

"Why? Because you're a woman? A bit sexist, don't you think?"

She laughed and felt sad. "Sorry, I seem to be throwing a lot of it at you this case. What do we do now?" She paused and he looked hesitantly over at her. "About Rachel I mean."

"Talk to her."

"About the three deaths?" She said nervously.

"Not really, there's nothing we or she can do about them."

"But you think she was responsible."

He looked back nervously. "I think she caused them to happen and that isn't the same thing."

"Are you going to tell her that?"

"Not really. I'm going to tell her that just because she's seen bad things sometimes and wanted bad things to happen sometimes, it doesn't mean that they have to happen. She didn't know that when she saw those storms. But she knew it when she saw the bridge and she saved those people's lives."

Scully smiled. A wave of relief pulsed over her. "So I don't have to go to court and tell them about poltergeists."

"Weather forecasts, even for bad weather, are not Federal offences."

She smiled again.

He looked suddenly serious again. "I have to talk to Rachel though. She's going to need someone to talk to later on, but I'll get her started."

THE FLIGHT HOME

Dana Scully had done plenty of brooding over the last few hours. The self recriminations coming at her thick and fast despite the fact that they had done the right thing. In fact in some ways that just made it worse. They'd done the right thing against her training, against her judgement. They'd done the right thing but only because Mulder had begged her to.

She was punching out the words. "If you had listened to me. If any other Agent had taken up this case. All those people would be dead."

Mulder leant his head back. "We've no way of knowing that. Fate."

"I know it. If I'd made you go back to DC and that bus had crashed I'd never have forgiven myself."

"You can't think like that." He said quietly. "There are too many ways for things to go wrong that aren't our fault. If you try taking the blame for all of it, then it destroys you."

"That sounds like the voice of experience."

"Right." He said, a flicker of humour in his voice.

"I don't want to leave you."

He felt a shiver run along his spine. < But you will do.> He said nothing.

She sighed and started talking again. "Sometimes, I feel like I hold you down, like you could fly if I let you go."

He almost smiled. < Yeah right. Fly. Crash. Burn. >

She hated his silence, she prepared to startle him out of it. "Who would you want as a partner if I get that job?"

< Nobody. > "Lois Lane?"

< Ask me to stay.> "Funny, I don't remember her joining the Bureau."

"She's undercover, has been for sixty years, ideal for the X-Files."

"She looks like she's got her hands full."

"Yeah, suppose so. And her memory for faces isn't that good. She never even spotted that Clark and Superman were related."

"Maybe not the ideal partner then."

< You are. > "Pamela Anderson?" He said, feigning a light heartedness that he wasn't feeling.

"She's fictitious."

"That's what people say about the things that we investigate."

"No they are real. I may not always agree with your explanation but I've never doubted that the cases are real."

He looked up at her. < Except this one. > But he understood what that was about. She'd been distancing herself from him. He understood it, because that was something he did to her.

So he didn't argue, just said softly. "I know."

"I don't want to give them up." < I don't want to give you up.>

"I don't think you would get away with double booking your time. I'll phone you when I get a good one and you can try and talk some sense into me."

"Do you think I'm letting them get away with it?" She spoke jerkily, then forcing the words out in a staccato rhythm. "You know the ones who killed Melissa, who kidnapped me, who took your sister."

"I think they've been getting away with it for a long time and you're as likely to damage them by being the Head of Forensics in New York as you are chasing ball lightning with me." < There. > He'd said it. He'd suspected as much for a long time, but he hadn't expected to have to say it out loud.

"You wouldn't leave the X-Files though would you?"

"No." He knew the word had come out harder than he'd intended, so he softened his next words into a joke. "And I doubt if anyone will be shortlisting me for promotion."

"Will you be ok?"

< No. > "You're not my mother Scully, you don't have to look after me. Unlikely as it might sound I was Spooky even before I met you."

She hated it when he did that. Put himself down. She knew it was self defence. "I don't want to go."

He felt feint. Was he supposed to ask her not to go? < Why can't I just pretend about this for a while longer. > But he couldn't pretend that he didn't care. "I don't want you to go. But it's such an opportunity, I'd never try and hold you back, I want you to fly."

"I don't like flying on my own."

< This was unfair. She was giving him permission to hold onto her. > It would mean it was his fault if she stayed. And it would mean it was his fault if she left. It took him a long time before he finally mumbled a reply. "Nor do I."

"Then we shouldn't."

He reached across the seat armrest to pick up her hand and turned to watch the clouds roll past the window.

Oh no. First a gratuitous nude scene then a soppy ending. Aargh. Sorry about that.
If you're still with me, thanks for reading it