[FEBRUARY 10,  11:20 AM]

	"Jack would've wanted you to have this, Chris."  The young boy took the 
nameplate from Scully's hands and ran his fingers over the gold lettering.  The park they 
sat in was empty, a chilling breeze making empty swings creak slowly as they moved.
	"Special Agent Jack Willis,"  boy read aloud quietly.   "He said that I could be an 
FBI agent when I grew up.  Just like him."
	Scully steeled herself for the boy, who dissolved into tears in her arms.  She 
rocked him back and forth and let him cry for the big brother he had lost and denied 
herself her own tears.  She wanted to be strong, for Chris and for Jack.  The wind 
swirled leaves around their feet, the whistling of the wind drowning out the sound of 
sobs.

	She had a surprise on her desk when she returned from Forest Lawn.  A 452 
form outlining a mandatory three-day leave of absence had been signed, sealed, and 
delivered.  	Article 89, paragraph 12, FBI policy required that any agent involved in a 
hostage situation take time off from the Bureau, three days required, more 
recommended.  But it wasn't the form that surprised her,  it was the note that was 
attached to it, written in a blocky, bold print.  
	"Go home,"  it read.  Scully thought that Mulder would've been the last person in 
the world to agree with the book.  She immediately picked up the phone and dialed his 
cellular number, then hung up before it connected.  Mulder hadn't been in the office all 
day and the presence of the note told her clearly that he did not want to speak with 
her.  She crumpled the note up in her fist, angry, the low, quiet, maddeningly calm voice 
of his echoing in her mind, saying,  "It means...whatever you want it to mean."
	It was just as well that Mulder wasn't there.  Scully knew that if anyone said a 
word to her at that moment she would have given into her emotions.  Instead, she 
gathered her things hastily and went home.

	She had really gone home.  Scully now sat at the kitchen table, a mug of tea 
steaming in her hands, a warm, full feeling making her drowsy.
	"Mom, let me help you with those."
	Margaret Scully turned off the water at the sink and looked reprovingly at her 
daughter.
	"Dana, don't be silly."
	"Then come here and sit down, talk to me."  She could see that her mother was 
still upset.  She had kept the description of her time as a hostage simple and toned 
down, even though she knew her mother had already read the official report.
	Margaret wiped her hands on a towel and sat with Dana.  "Dana, honey," she 
began, "don't you think you should leave word with someone that you're here?  I don't 
want you to get into trouble..."
	Dana pursed her lips and felt her anger flare up again.  "Mom, I told you.  This is a 
mandatory leave, or else I wouldn't be here.  I'm fine, really."  She sipped her tea and 
watched her mother's hands wring the dish towel.
	"You don't know how happy I am to see you.  After what you've been through?  
You need this time off."
	"You sound just like him!"  Scully blurted, placing her cup on the table much 
harder than she had planned.  Her mother looked at her with alarm.
	"Don't you want to call up that partner of yours and let him know what's going 
on?"
	"No, mother.  Didn't I just finish telling you what happened?"  Scully had also 
filled her mother in on what *wasn't* in the official reports- including Mulder's theories.  
"Of all people I thought you would be rational about this, be on my side."
	Her mother reached across the table and placed her hand on hers.  "Dana, I am 
on your side.  Be reasonable..."
	"I don't want to speak with him.  Not now."  Scully stood and put her mug in the 
sink, indicating that their discussion was at an end.  "I'm tired Mom.  I'm going to go to 
bed."
	Margaret Scully stood and gave Dana a hug.  "Darling, get some rest.  You're 
home now."   Scully nodded and tried to smile.  She moved to the doorway, only to be 
stopped by her mother's voice.  
	"Dana?"
	Scully turned towards her mother.  She hadn't really noticed before just how 
weary her mother looked.  
	"I'm so very sorry about Jack."
	Scully  nodded numbly.  "Goodnight."

	Dr. Matt Brewer was not an FBI agent.  He was an outsider hired to help keep 
the government's finest sane in an insane world.  And today, like every day, he had a 
very full agenda.
	He pressed the buzzer on his desk and looked up to see a young woman step 
into the office and sit on the couch opposite him.
	"Good morning, Agent Scully."
	"Dr. Brewer."
	Matt knew from experience that the best way to handle these people was to 
come straight to the point.  From the way Agent Scully was fidgeting, the sooner the 
better.  He picked up the file and cleared his throat.
	"I know you don't want to be here, Dana..."
	"That's right.  I wouldn't be here if it weren't Bureau policy."
	"But here you are."  Dana sighed heavily and twined her hands in her lap.
	"Yes."
	"Then let's make the best of it.  I see you were involved in a hostage situation.  
They had you for almost four days?"
	"Yes."  Matt watched Scully carefully, but the agent remained calm and 
composed.
	"You were in restraints?"  Matt noticed the first hesitation on her part.
	"Yes.  I was handcuffed to a radiator."
	"I'm sorry I have to ask you these questions, Dana, but we need to talk about 
what happened to you."
	"I understand.  But I'm fine now, really."
	"Were you frightened?"
	"At the time, yes."
	"And how do you feel now?"  Scully licked her lips slowly and Matt noticed her 
hands again, moving in her lap.
	"I'm okay now.  It's over."
	Matt looked at the file again and began the real questioning.
	"Dana, did they threaten you?  Injure you while you were held captive?"
	"Yes."
	"What did they do?"
	"They threatened to kill me if I didn't obey their instructions.  He hit me."
	"He?  Agent Willis?"
	"Yes.  No, I mean...it's all in the report."
	Dr. Brewer saw the fright and confusion in Scully's eyes.  "I read the official 
report, Agent Scully.  In it is no mention of Agent Willis being party to this situation.  
Are you telling me you didn't report that he was an accomplice to Lula Philips?"
	"NO.  Dr. Brewer, he was- being coerced.  If you read the report, you'd 
understand..."
	"I also read this report,"  Matt held up another file, a file that bore the prefix "X", 
"it tells a slightly different version."
	"I am not here to smear Jack's name."  
	"Jack?  You were close to Agent Willis?"
	"Yes."
	Matt paused again, well aware of the anger Agent Scully now was emanating.  
This situation was much more complex than he realized.
	"How did it feel to have him strike you?"
	"What do you mean, how did it feel?!  Doctor, this is not doing either of us any 
good.  I'd rather not waste any more of your time, or mine."
	"Dana..."
	"No,"  Dana Scully stood and headed for the exiting door, "I log in and I log out.  
The Bureau has helped me quite enough for today, thank you."
	Matt cringed at the sound of the door slamming shut.  Officially, Agent Scully 
had fulfilled her duty and was free to go and not return for a session.  And he couldn't 
think of a good reason to bring her back.  She certainly had a lot of anger bottled up 
inside, but that was natural and would subside in time.  What he couldn't figure out 
was where all that anger was actually centered on.

 	Scully looked down at her wrists which still bore the marks where the handcuffs 
had chaffed them.  She shivered, then continued packing her suitcase.  A footstep 
approached.
	"Yes, Mom?"
	"Dana.  It's only been three days.  Are you sure you don't want to take more 
time off?  They let you, don't they?"
	"Mom, I've been away from work long enough.  I'm fine."
	"Dana, you brought work home with you and haven't relaxed a minute while 
you've been here.  I think you should stay.  Your brothers want to come and visit too;  
we rarely have time together anymore."
	Dana paused her actions and felt the guilt rise up into her throat;  it would be 
nice to see her brothers, have the family all together.  They hadn't been all together 
since...
	"No Mom.  I'm sorry but I need to get back.  I feel so out of touch as it is...I'll be 
fine, really."  She gave her mother a warm reassuring smile but was sure that the smile 
didn't reach her eyes.  Her mother smiled back, unconvinced, and turned away from the 
door.  Scully sighed and continued packing.  She really did feel out of touch-  but it had 
been so nice at home.  She had kept herself deliberately occupied, busy, so she wouldn't 
have to think about what had happened four days ago.  Many times she had thought 
about picking up the phone to talk to Mulder, but something always held her back.  She 
didn't know if her hesitation was more about her not wanting to hear his theories or 
not wanting to hear her own...  She shut her suitcase with a slam.  She didn't want to 
think about it, she wouldn't...
	"Dana."  Scully jumped and turned again to the doorway.
	"Mom?"
	"There's, uh, someone here to see you,"  her mother had a puzzled, disconcerted 
look on her face that made Dana concerned.
	"Who is it, Ma?"
	"Hi Scully."  He entered the doorframe, a swirl of dark trench coat and towering 
over her mother.  His hands were in his pockets and he was still dressed in a suit;  it 
looked like he had come straight from the office.
	"I'll leave you two alone."  her mother said, then left hurriedly.  Mulder smiled 
and nodded at her as she moved past him, then turned his smile on Dana.
	She didn't realize how much she had missed him in those three days until she 
saw that smile that seemed to brighten the whole room.  She felt tears coming to her 
eyes but said firmly,
	"Geez Mulder, this is a surprise.  I would've thought this was your chance to be 
rid of me."  Her voice sounded harsher to her ears than she intended, but seeing him 
now reminded her of what her life was like without him.  She didn't want to feel that 
alone, abandoned, ever again.
	Mulder moved tentatively into the room and sat on the corner of the bed near 
her, concern in his eyes.  He glanced out the door then said, quietly, "Dana, I came over 
here today because you haven't returned any of my calls."
	Dana opened and closed her mouth, then blew out a frustrated breath.  "My 
Mother,"  she concluded.
	Mulder's eyes softened and he murmured, "She must love you very much."
	"She can be- overprotective.  I can't believe she didn't tell me you called."  Dana 
could not summon up the anger she had built up towards Mulder over those three days 
and felt so much better now that Mulder was there- a ridiculous feeling of relief.
	"She associates me with work and the FBI is the last thing you should've been 
dealing with these days."
	Scully raised a brow,  "You aren't here about work?"
	A furrow deepened in his forehead and he leaned in slightly, "Dana I was worried 
about you.  As a friend."  He stood up quickly and went to the window.  She had hurt 
him, somehow.  She stood quickly and moved to his side.
	"Mulder, I'm glad you're here,"  he turned to look at her, a puppy-dog look of 
hope in his eyes that made her smile, "glad."  She watched his shoulders relax and he 
smiled at her again.
	"So how have you been?  I see you're packing.  Are you sure you want to come 
back to work?" Scully heard the concern in his voice.
	"Yes, Mulder.  I'm sure.  I need to get back to work.  Now just give me a minute 
and I'll be ready to go."
	He paused a minute, then gestured towards the door.  "I'll be downstairs."

	Mulder wandered into the kitchen where Margaret Scully was pouring cups of 
coffee.
	"Mrs. Scully,"  Mulder began, as she turned and handed him a cup without a 
word, "thank you."
	"Agent Mulder."  
	They moved silently from the kitchen to the living room.  Margaret sat in an 
armchair and Mulder sank onto a couch opposite.
	"Mrs. Scully...how has Dana been?"  Mulder was startled by the cold look 
Margaret Scully gave him.
	"She's hurting, Agent Mulder."
	"I'm sorry.  I wish I had been there to help her through this," he let his unsaid 
question hang in the air.
	"I didn't give her your messages because she didn't want to speak to you."
	Mulder felt her words stab at him, even though Dana had just told him 
otherwise- could she have been lying?
	"You must love your daughter very much."
	"I do."
	"You aren't the only one."
	"Did you know Jack Willis, Agent Mulder?"
	"Not very well.  I know that he and Dana were close once."
	"Yes.  He was like a father to her."  
	Mulder digested this piece of information.
	"She told me they had dated for a year."
	"They were close for a year.  Dana never felt very comfortable about getting 
involved with an instructor while she was still in the Academy.  They were more 
like...father and daughter."
	They heard footsteps on the stairs and their conversation stopped.  Mulder 
watched Margaret step up to Dana and give her a tight hug.
	"Dana, I've just been speaking with your partner."
	Dana looked at her mother sideways and said quietly, "Mother, Mulder saved 
my life."
	Margaret quickly turned back towards Mulder, a new look of respect forming in 
her eyes.  Mulder smiled sheepishly and looked at his feet in reply.
	"I see."
	"I've got to go now, mother.  I'll call you."
	Dana swept out of the room and Mulder moved to follow when he felt a hand 
on his arm.  
	"You know, Agent Mulder...I had a dream that Dana was in trouble, in danger."
	Mulder looked into Margaret's eyes, intrigued, and simply nodded.
	"I'd had this dream before, many times, when Dana first went on duty as an 
agent.  But just recently, when I have this dream...someone's there.  Someone's there 
to help her."
	Mulder nodded again, realizing Margaret Scully's deep beliefs.  He murmured,  
"That person will always be there for your daughter."
	"In my dreams?"  She replied, smiling just a fraction.  "Thank you, Agent Mulder.  
It's been nice speaking with you."
	"You too, Mrs. Scully."
	
	Mulder joined Dana in the car where she had been waiting for him.
	"You seem to have hit it off with my mother."  Mulder could have sworn he 
heard a trace of annoyance in her voice.
	"Your mother has a heightened awareness that..."
	"That I lack?"
	"That I find refreshing."  Scully smirked and Mulder started up the car.  "You 
know Scully, I wouldn't be surprised if you also had the same psychic awareness that 
your mother appears to possess."
	"Did my mother tell you about her dreams?"
	"She seems to believe in them."
	Scully sighed, "I know."
	Mulder glanced over at Scully and decided to cut right to the chase.  "You did 
have that dream about your father."
	Scully visibly tensed and brought her head around angrily to glare at him. 
	"What the hell does my father have to do with this?"
	"I just think that..."
	"I've already seen the Bureau psychologist, Mulder."  Mulder decided not to press 
the issue any further- yet.
	"Okay.  I'm sorry."
	Scully ran a hand through her hair and retrieved a file from her attachΘ case.
	"So, where are we headed?"
	"Back to the office.  I've got some photos I want to show you."
	
	WATCHING THE SHIPS- pt. 2,  by peggy li  Oct. 24, 1994

	Mulder held open the door for Scully, the two of them sweeping into the office 
with a comfortable coordination that belied their three-day separation. 
	"Okay Mulder, what have you got for me?"
	Mulder shrugged out of his jacket and fumbled around his desk for a file.  He 
handed it to her, scratching his nose and avoiding her gaze.  She took the file from him 
warily.
	"What is this?"
	"The FBI believes there is a serial killer working in ------, Virginia.  Four victims 
were found with identical MO's."
	Scully looked at Mulder from underneath her lashes, "Did the VCS ask you to 
take this case?"
	"I volunteered."
	Scully raised an eyebrow but did not voice what she thought Mulder's actions 
meant- that he had been waiting for her return.  She leaned against the edge of her 
desk and turned the pages of the report.  When she got to the sheaf of photos, she 
stopped breathing.  The black and white picture framed the body of a young woman, 
clothed and dead.  Her body had been tied into a drycleaner's plastic clothes bag and 
she had evidently died from suffocation.  Scully turned to the next photo, which was a 
close-up of the woman's hands;  bound in handcuffs.  Scully bit her lip but said nothing, 
feeling Mulder's eyes upon her.  She flipped quickly through the rest of the photos, each 
detailing the bodies of identically-bound victims.  When Scully looked up, her eyes were 
cold and hard.
	"Have you formed a profile yet?"
	"No,"  Mulder replied quietly, "I'm still working on it."
	"Let me go through these autopsies and then we can confer later."
	
	Mulder watched Scully move to her desk, her exterior not ruffled a bit by the 
disturbing photos.  He pursed his lips in frustration;  he knew that the past two months 
had been a very difficult one for her.  But she was so damn stubborn that she denied 
herself the natural reactions to the situations she'd been in out of some overdeveloped 
sense of stoicism.  It was only a matter of time before she would be overwhelmed... 
and Mulder vowed to be there when it happened.

	Scully and Mulder were going over Mulder's profile when the call came through.
	"Mulder.  Where?"  Mulder listened for a minute, then hung up the phone and 
reached for his coat.
	"Something?" she asked.
	"Yeah, they've found another one.  At the docks."
	Scully felt her heart sink and grow cold as she scrambled to pick up her coat and 
follow Mulder out the door.

	They sat in silence in the car, both painfully aware of the scene they were 
hurrying to see.  Scully stared out the passenger window as rain began to fall and 
splash drops of moisture on the glass, obscuring her view.  She heard Mulder flip a 
switch and the swishing squeaks of the wipers as they came on.
	"Mulder..." she began quietly;   Mulder didn't reply.  "Mulder, have you ever been 
involved in a hostage situation?  As the hostage?"
	"There were some times."
	Scully turned from the window to watch Mulder's profile.
	"How did you handle it when it was all over?"
	Mulder did not glance in her direction.  "After the first time, I threw up when it 
was over.  Then I psychoanalyzed myself to the point of distraction.  I told myself I had 
to be smarter, faster, a better agent, so it wouldn't happen again.  When it did happen 
again, after it was over I knocked back a few beers, howled at the moon for being such 
a lucky bastard, then knocked on wood."
	Scully turned back to the window, not wanting to bother wading through what 
was fact in Mulder's story and what was embellishment.  "Why can't you let me do the 
same, Mulder?"
	"Because Dana,"  Mulder turned to look at her, "because this time I was at the 
other end of the phone."
	Scully brushed a hand over her window as if the rain was the cause of her 
blurring vision and then looked down, into her lap, hoping Mulder couldn't see her face.
	"And,"  Mulder added, turning his eyes back to the road, "because it's never 
over."
	Scully nodded slowly, her right hand moving to rub her left wrist, as the rain 
began to pour down in earnest.

	Mulder and Scully flashed their ID, passed the police lines, and entered the dark, 
squalid apartment complex.  
	Water dripped in the dank hallways, sputtering the flares that marked the room 
they were looking for.
	"Detective Carson?"  Mulder asked as they stepped into the room, his eyes 
giving the scene a cursory glance.  A man in a dark trenchcoat motioned to Mulder from 
the other side of the room.  Mulder waded carefully around the crime scene and 
headed in that direction.
	Scully remained transfixed in the doorway, her eyes locked on the latest victim 
of the "Cleaner" killer.  
	The body was wrapped in the trademark plastic bag, the stenciled warning 
"keep this bag away from children" positioned across the frozen look of terror on the 
woman's face.  Her clothes were neat and expensive, distinctly out of place in the 
unfurnished, dilapidated room.  The photographer stepped away from the body to get 
a new angle, allowing Scully to see her hands.
	She had been bound in handcuffs, like the rest of them, but this time her wrists 
were chained to a fixed object resting against the wall.  They were bound to a large 
metal radiator.  
	The sight of the wrists straining against the coils of metal, the smells of the run-
down wooden room, the cold breeze that hit her face, brought back a torrent of 
memories for Dana.  Suddenly it was her on that floor, her wrists bound in handcuffs, 
the scuffling sounds from the next room over making her nauseous.  She felt her body 
sway, then Mulder was there at her elbow.
	"Scully, are you all right?"
	"Mulder, give me your keys."
	"What is it?  Scul..."
	"Give me the keys NOW Mulder!"  Scully felt herself beginning to hyperventilate, 
her hands ready to dive into Mulder's pockets, if necessary.  She had to get out of that 
room.
	"Scully, if you're going somewhere, I'm going to drive you."  Mulder steered her 
by her elbow quickly away from the crime scene, dismissing the Detective with a wave 
of his hand.

	The rain had stopped, leaving everything dark with wet and smelling alternately 
fresh and musty.  Scully hurried into the car and slammed the door, regaining control of 
her breathing with effort.
	Mulder climbed into the drivers seat and began driving without saying a word, 
turning onto the freeway and driving seemingly without direction.
	Scully sat silently in her seat, feeling terribly embarrassed and humiliated.  She 
let many minutes pass, trying to find words to say.  Finally, she simply asked, "Where 
are we going, Mulder?"
	"Somewhere I think you need to be,"  Mulder replied enigmatically.  Scully 
shrugged and pulled her coat tighter around her body, grateful just to be traveling 
away, as if she could run from her memories.

	Scully started awake at the stillness of the vehicle.  She didn't remember when 
she dozed off and couldn't tell how much time had elapsed.  The sky was still cloudy and 
gray and didn't indicate the time of day.  The door to her side opened and a brackish 
breeze entered the car.
	"Come on, Scully."
	Scully stepped out car, Mulder shutting the door behind her.
	"Mulder, where are we?"  she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
	"It's okay, Scully,"  Mulder replied, gesturing towards a footpath with a slight 
nod of his head.  Scully frowned, but then began walking down the path.  As she 
walked, the terrain became familiar and the sounds of the ocean became clear to her 
ears.

	Mulder followed slowly behind Scully, losing sight of her for an instant around a 
bend, and then skidding down a slight slope to see her still figure standing on the edge 
of the cliff, her back to him.  The sea air stirred her hair and her trench coat, the grim 
cloudy skies swirling overhead and all around, threatening more rain.  Mulder had never 
seen anything more beautiful in his life.
	He reached her side and saw the tears streaming down her face.  She turned to 
look at him and Mulder simply nodded slightly at her, managing a small smile of 
understanding.
	"Why did you bring me here, Mulder?"  she whispered, wiping tears from her 
clear blue eyes, looking more vulnerable than Mulder had ever seen her before.
	"I brought you here, Dana because...your mother said you were still hurting.  I 
wanted to come to the source."
	"Why couldn't you let me deal with this my own way, Mulder?"  Scully's voice 
held a tinge of anger but was more like a plea, "You left me to work things out on my 
own, remember?"
	"Because Dana...I want you to trust me.  Like I trust you."
	Scully said steadily, looking into Mulder's eyes, "I do trust you, Mulder.  So tell 
me...what do you think really happened to Jack?"
	Mulder sighed and looked out upon the water.  "Scully, you still don't 
understand.  You know my theory...but it doesn't matter what I think.  What matters 
is what happened to you."
	Scully sat on the grass, drawing her knees to her chest and sniffling a bit.  
Mulder lowered himself onto the grass as well, procuring from the depths of his coat a 
handkerchief.  He could see she needed to talk about this and patiently waited until she 
was ready.  When she began speaking, it was into the ground and rapidly.
	"He- he hit me.  This man, whom I had trusted for so many years, he hit me."
	Mulder grit his teeth, "I'm sorry..."
	"I couldn't understand it.  I could not understand what I had done..."
	"You didn't do anything to deserve it, Scully!"  Mulder said fiercely.  Scully 
continued speaking as if she didn't hear him.
	"It was so cold...my wrists hurt.  I couldn't show fear, couldn't be afraid;  but I 
was terribly afraid, Mulder."
	Mulder bowed his head, wishing he could make this easier for Scully and 
reminding himself that she needed to go through this.  A part of him ached with regret, 
an old regret;  if only he could have prevented all of this...
	"Then there were the sounds.  From the other room."  Tears began to flow 
again from Scully's eyes.  "They were talking and laughing and- he was making love 
to her!"  The last words came out slowly, sounding bitter and angry and 
disgusted.  Mulder felt his own anger rising to his throat, but remained 
silent.  Scully paused, and then regained some composure.
	"And then...it was Jack.  He was dying.  I didn't get a chance to tell 
him...anything."  She turned to look at Mulder, "And then he was gone."
	Mulder held her gaze and said gently, "Like your father."
	Scully swallowed hard but her gaze did not fall, "Yes," she said softly, "like my 
father."
	Mulder unfolded his arms and drew her to him, letting her know she did not 
have to be the stoic, unflappable Dana Scully;  that he was someone who could 
understand loss, understand pain.
	They sat, huddled in the chilly sea air, when the sun broke through the clouds at 
last, low upon the horizon.  The fading rays kissed the water, shedding a reddish hue 
across the sea, Scully's hair flaring along with the brilliant sunset.
	After a time, Scully wiped away the last of her tears, spent, and swatted at 
Mulder as she drew away.
	"You can be the hostage next time, Mulder." she managed.  Mulder opened and 
closed his mouth, speechless.
	
	Scully glanced over at Mulder, the streetlight illuminating his features only 
partially as he pulled up next to her apartment complex.
	"Goodnight, Scully."  he said.
	Scully fleetingly touched Mulder on the hand and hastily exited the car, not 
looking back, but hearing the car pull away as she unlocked the door to her apartment.
	She took off her coat and wearily sat in the darkness on her couch.  She reached 
over to her purse and pulled out the watch that she had given Jack and felt the 
smooth glass and cool metal beneath her fingers.  A man whom she admired very 
much was gone- it didn't matter how he died or when he died- what mattered was 
the friendship and love they had shared.  Scully stood and moved to her bedroom, 
turning on the lights and putting the watch away into a jewelry box.  She paused at 
the picture on her dresser;  a picture of her on the shoulders of a man in uniform.  Like 
Jack, her father was a man she wasn't able to express her feelings with.  And like her 
father, Dana didn't need to have last words with Jack;  she already knew what 
would've been said.
	Scully sighed and picked up her phone, hitting a speed dial number.  The phone 
was answered on the first ring.
	"Hello?"
	"Hi Ma,"  Dana said, smiling into the receiver.
	"Dana!  I've been trying to reach you all day.  I wanted to tell you that your 
brothers are here and we want you to come down.  Dana?  Dana darling, are you 
there?"
	"Yes, mom.  That sounds wonderful,"  Dana felt fresh tears coming to her eyes, 
but this time, tears of happiness.  
	"Dana, are you all right?"  her mother asked, concerned.
	"Yes mom, I'm... better.  I'll tell you about it when I get home."

	Mulder sat at his desk, mulling over the Cleaner case.  He glanced over at Scully's 
empty desk and felt glad at the thought of Scully finding comfort and support at home 
as she took another day or two off from the Bureau-  he also felt a bit jealous.  Mulder 
shook his head, burying that line of thought, and turned back to his work when the 
phone rang.
	"Mulder here."
	"Agent Mulder?"
	Mulder sat up in his chair and said with surprise, "Mrs. Scully?"
	"Yes...I'm using Dana's phone."  Mrs. Scully paused for a moment and then said in 
hushed tones, "Dana doesn't know I'm calling you."
	"Is everything all right, Mrs. Scully...?"
	"Yes yes, Agent Mulder.  Thanks to you."  Mulder was beyond flattered.  He 
replied solemnly,
	"No, Mrs. Scully.  You have a remarkable daughter."
	"But sometimes she doesn't see things the way we do, does she."
	"Not always...but she keeps her mind open to the possibilities."
	"I just wanted to thank you.  For being there for her.  For protecting her."
	Mulder swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.  "I can't..."
	"Oh!  I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, but I hear Dana coming upstairs.  Take care."  The 
phone clicked dead, and Mulder stared at the receiver before placing it back in it's cradle.  
A warm feeling filled his soul at the thought of Mrs. Scully's kindness, but at the same 
time, her words filled him with dread.
	Mulder sighed and turned back to his papers, letting his mind wander to more 
pleasant topics, such as what needed to be done upon Scully's return to the office...

[PRESENT DAY]
	Mulder was back in the office.  Everything was where they had left it, down to 
his posters and photos on the wall.  Mulder was amazed that they hadn't touched 
anything- until his eyes rested on the file cabinets.  They were empty.
	Mulder picked up his phone and dialed quickly.  "Give me Skinner, this is Agent 
Mulder."
	"Skinner here."
	"Skinner, you've given me the X-Files back, but where are they?!"  Mulder had 
had enough of these games.
	"Agent Mulder, I don't know what you're talking about.  I'll have someone find 
out what happened to them right away..."
	"Let's just hope that these are something that you can find."  Mulder 
slammed down the phone and sat down angrily in his chair.  He put his 
hands to his face and stared at the empty, silent desk across the room.  
	"I couldn't protect you,"  he whispered to the void.

	Mulder glided through the water, his strokes coming in a steady rhythm as he 
neared the end of his workout.  He was grateful for this time of day, when he could 
concentrate on his body and shut out the rest of the world.
	As he flipped at the far end of the pool, a figure at the other side caught his 
eyes and he stopped short.  The slim, petite figure dove into the water, a tendril of red 
hair peeking from underneath a swimmer's cap.  
	Mulder dove under the lane partition, and under the next one, and the next, 
nearly crashing into other swimmers, making his way to her lane.  
	The swimmer stopped and treaded water as Mulder pulled off his goggles and 
gasped,  "Excuse me?"
	The woman pulled off her own goggles and Mulder's hopes fell.
	"I'm sorry, I- I thought you were someone else."
	Beating a hasty retreat, Mulder pulled himself out of the pool and reached for 
his towel.  Rubbing his face hard, he tried to erase the image of *her* from his mind.  
In the past few days, everything had become Dana.  He was seeing her in 
every crowd, in every hallway, always just out of reach.  
	Tossing the towel around his neck, he headed for the locker room.  It was 
almost time for lunch with Margaret.

	Mulder walked into the restaurant, dressed immaculately in a suit and tie 
although his face had a two-day growth.  Seeing Margaret Scully, looking tired but 
resolute, seated at their usual outdoor table, made Mulder wonder who needed these 
meetings more.  Coming closer and seeing her smile at him, he realized they both 
needed this time together.
	"Hello, Mrs. Scully."
	"Agent Mulder."  There was the usual awkward pause.
	"No, nothing new today."  Mulder said as gently as he could.  Cursing the truth, 
Mulder could not meet Margaret's eyes, so he picked up a menu.
	"I see.  Agent Mulder, I'm afraid I can't stay for lunch with you today.  My 
church is having a fund-raiser and I volunteered to help them."
	"No problem.  I'll see you tomorrow?"	
	"Yes."  Margaret stood, but paused before turning to leave, placing a hand on 
Mulder's shoulder.  "I know you are doing everything you can."  Mulder bent his head a 
fraction;  she said this every time they met.
	"I'll call you immediately, if I hear anything."
	Margaret nodded, a small smile on her lips, and moved off, leaving Mulder alone.
	Mulder felt alone, more alone than he had in a long time.  He had been over the 
situation a hundred times in his head, realizing that speculation and might-have-beens 
were a waste of his time and energy.  One fact, however, stood out in his mind;  she 
should not be paying for his actions.  Why didn't they take him?  Why?  The torment he 
was going through now was his answer.
	He fingered the broken gold chain, safely tucked into an inner coat pocket.  They 
had taken everything from him;  his sister, his work, and now- a piece of his soul.  He 
had seen Scully in perilous situations;  attacked by Tooms, nearly killed by prehistoric 
insects, shot in the chest, held hostage for ransom, but nothing like this.  This was 
Unknown.
	Mulder closed his eyes, feeling the sunshine beat down upon his lids and 
imagining the chain as whole again, a complete golden circlet that began and ended 
with Dana;  gathering strength from her memory.  
	Fox Mulder was not a stranger to the Unknown- but neither was Dana Scully.  
Mulder gripped the chain in his hand, feeling the small cross dig into his palm, and 
believed- believed in his heart- that he would find her.  Or she would find him. 
	He opened his eyes.  He had waited and watched long enough.  Mulder reached 
for his cellular phone.
	"Danny?  Yeah, it's Mulder.  Thanks Danny, but there's nothing yet.  In fact, I 
need you to help me out.  Call up a listing for me of all the supermarkets, convienience 
stores, minimarkets, any stores that would have a UPC scanner within a ten mile radius 
from Scully's apartment- also along the route from Headquarters to her place.  That's 
right, thanks Danny."
	Mulder shut the phone with a snap and shoved it back into his coat pocket.  It 
was beginning.  He knew that the truth was out there.  He knew that Scully was out 
there.  And they'd find each other, somehow.

WRITER'S NOTE:
I've decided to continue with this storyline and writing about Scully's return.  I take this 
moment to warn you readers that I will be using elements detailed in the spoiler for 
the episode ONE BREATH.  I have not, repeat, *have not* read the actual script- what 
you read here is a blending of my original vision and my interpretation of the possible 
events occuring in ONE BREATH.  Read at your own risk!   Send your comments, flames, 
to:  madge@uclink.berkeley.edu
Many thanks and much gratitude to those who have read my work and written to me.  
Enjoy.


WATCHING THE SHIPS- pt. 3,   by peggy li Oct. 26, 1994

[DAY 1]

	Mulder approached the store clerk, his badge in hand.  This was the seventh 
store he'd visited en-route from FBI headquarters to Scully's apartment and at each 
place he received the same reaction;  a look of outright fear.
	"Excuse me, I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI.  I'd like to speak to the clerk that 
was on night duty four days ago."
	"Uh, I was."
	The short woman with olive skin and a shock of tousled black hair looked at 
Mulder blankly, a trace of fear in her eyes.
	"And you are...?"  Mulder prodded, placing his ID back in his pocket.
	"Chelsea Dawkins."
	"Do you remember this woman?"  Mulder held up a photo of Scully, the wide-
eyed, fresh-from-the-academy photo from her ID.
	"Oh, sure, yeah.  She was in here real late at night.  Is she some sort of criminal, 
or something?"  The woman was beginning to show some interest now, rousing herself 
from her previous stupor.
	"No, she's a federal agent.  She's been missing for four days.  Did anything 
unusual happen while she was here?"  Mulder glanced at the red beams of the laser 
scanner, catching the eye of Dawkins, who bit her lower lip, thinking.  It took her a 
minute to catch onto his subtle hint.
	"Yeah, something really strange happened right before she left.  The cash 
register went haywire- it took us half an hour to get the thing working again."
	Mulder felt his investigating skills unsheathing their claws, "Was it this register?"  
he asked, pointing.
	"Yeah, that's the one."
	"Do you have any receipts or records for that transaction?"
	"Sure, we keep all receipts in a logbook.  We even kept all the junk the machine 
was spitting out just in case the repairman would need to see it."
	Mulder eagerly followed Dawkins into the back room, where she pulled out a 
logbook for the week.  
	"I need to get back to work,"  Dawkins said, handing Mulder the papers.
	"Thank you,"  Mulder gave her his most winning smile, then turned to the stack 
of register paper.  It wasn't hard to find what he was looking for;  a long segment of 
ticket tape bearing a series of seemingly random numbers and symbols.  Mulder deftly 
pocketed the paper and left everything else exactly where he found it.
	
	Legs nearly breaking into a run, Mulder rushed to his car and glanced around 
warily before entering and reaching for his cellular phone.  The line was picked up on the 
fifth ring.
	"Lone Gunmen."
	"I've got something for you.  I'll be down in twenty."  Mulder clicked off the 
phone and revved the car engine to life.

	"This is it, guys."  Mulder pulled out the paper strip, holding it in his hand and 
feeling very much like he was holding out a fresh piece of meat to a pack of voracious 
terriers.  Langly, his shaggy blond hair unsuccessfully hiding his age, leapt up out of his 
seat by the phone and Byers, his beard unsuccessfully hiding his youth, joined him at 
Mulder's side, taking the paper carefully from his hand.  Mulder let them scurry off with 
the ticker tape, both men mumbling in hurried, excited tones, while he approached the 
one member of the Lone Gunmen who was not caught up in the investigative frenzy.
	Mulder found Frohike sniffling in his chair, bent over his camera on the pretense 
of cleaning it, but only succeeding in wiping the teardrops from the lens as rapidly as 
they fell upon it.  He placed a hand on the rotund man's shoulder and tried to ignore the 
conversation in the background.
	"Frohike, Scully would hate to see you like this."
	"This is wild!"
	"Mulder, where'd you get this?"
	"They've got Scully.  The bastards!"
	"I know it's tough, Frohike.  It's hard for me, too."
	"Looks like some sort of  third-level fractal code.  Pyramid?"
	"Shhhya!  Don't you think they'd come up with something a bit more insidious 
than that?!  That code's being used by over a hundred organizations in the US alone."
	"Why'd they take her, Mulder?"
	"You've got to remember that this fragment was probably being used way back 
in the sixties, at least."
	"I think the operative question at the moment is not 'why' but 'where'."
	"Mulder, leave Frohike alone."
	Mulder turned away from Frohike reluctantly and joined Byers.  "What can you 
tell me about that code?"
	"Not much, I'm afraid.  It looks to be a fairly standard algorithm, used in various 
trades..."
	"Could it be used , say, to catalog items?"
	Byers nodded slowly, "Yes, that would seem likely."
	Mulder brought a hand up to rub his lower lip, then pulled a small manila 
envelope from his pocket and handed it to Byers.  "There was a metal fragment to go 
along with that code.  Scully had a tech at Headquarters analyze the piece before she 
was abducted.  All her files are gone and the tech never filed an official report.  But he 
saved some of the data."
	Frohike had moved out of his chair and snatched the envelope from Byers' hand.  
He said firmly,  "What do you want us to do, Mulder?"
	Mulder looked into the eyes of the motley group before him and felt that things 
were looking up, at last.
	"I want you to find me the source of that code.  Or a way to trace this metal 
fragment.  This is the only evidence I have and I won't ignore any possible lead."
	"This isn't going to be easy, Mulder..."  Langly began.
	"Since when did you guys back away from a challenge?"  Mulder replied.  
"Besides," Mulder's voice grew quieter, "this is not just a case.  This is Scully."
	The room grew still, the hum of the tape machine whirring in the background 
the only sound.
	Frohike broke the silence by sighing, "She's a number one hottie."  Everyone 
bowed their heads for an instant, then looked up again, a new feeling of gritty resolve 
in the air.
	"Go home, Mulder,"  Byers said, "we'll be in touch."
	Mulder nodded gratefully at the Lone Gunmen and left them to pour over the 
meager evidence.  They were his last and best option;  if anyone could unravel a 
conspiracy, it would be them.

[SOMEWHERE, DAY 1]
	There was a bright white light, searing her eyeballs even through her tightly 
shut lids.  Sharp pains stung her cheek then grew achingly numb, blood filling her mouth, 
the metallic-warm taste bringing Dana back from drifting into unconsciousness.  She lay 
on the cold, pebbly-textured surface, making the prudent decision not to get up.  
Cracking her eyes open as the unnatural light faded away, Dana could hear in the 
distance the sound of feet approaching at last, crunching on the gravel.  Strong hands 
lifted her up by her armpits, throwing her bodily to one side.
	"What's going on here, ladies?"  The warden had pulled out her nightstick and 
was eyeing Scully and her assailants.
	Scully brought the back of her hand to the corner of her mouth, wiping away 
the trickle of blood, and glared at the two blond women standing across from her, 
dressed like she in florescent prison orange.
	"Nothing, " she grated from between her cracked lips, "just a- 
misunderstanding."
	The burly warden nodded and moved away, perfectly content to leave her 
charges to thrash out whatever differences they had on their own.  Scully braced 
herself for another attack, but her attackers' attention had already wandered, and 
Scully was left standing by herself in that corner of the yard.
	Her knees suddenly began to tremble, and Scully sank to the ground, her whole 
body soon shivering.  The pain in her jaw from where she was struck and hit the ground 
returned, the numbness leaving a sharp stinging that pierced with every movement.  
Scully ran her tongue around her mouth slowly, checking for damage, and ran her hands 
over her body systematically, checking for injury.  
	Scully had awakened in a straight-jacket at this women's correctional facility 
three days ago.  The last thing she remembered was being pulled out of her car trunk 
by Duane Barry, and then...she woke up in her cell.  Scully learned quickly that this 
"correctional" facility housed violent, psychotic, and delusional prisoners.  
	Naturally, Scully had tried to explain to the orderlies and guards who she was, 
but all attempts at outside communication were denied;  the whole staff was 
somehow convinced that Dana was a patient, and they treated her as such.  Scully 
was stunned to discover that they even anticipated parts of her story;  her kidnapping 
and her status as an FBI agent was thought to be part of her delusion.  After Scully had 
been "disciplined" for her protests by a dose of Thorazine, Scully had become much more 
guarded about what she said, and when.  Her priorities were suddenly re-arranged; she 
now simply wanted to survive.  She had a feeling that whoever- or whatever- had left 
her in this place and orchestrated this conspiracy against her would also be back for her.  
Until then, Scully wanted to stay healthy and be ready for whatever was to come 
next.  She wanted to stay sane.

	Like some inmate in a bad B-movie, Dana scratched a line in the plaster of her 
cell wall to mark the end of the day.  Four grooves were there now and Scully 
wondered briefly how many more would join it.  Shaking herself from that line of 
thought, Scully readied herself for bed.  She could drive herself insane thinking about 
what was going on the outside- going on with Mulder.  Dana needed to have faith.
	She pushed aside the heavy leather straps and buckles on her bed, repulsed, and 
settled down to sleep.  The tiny room and the antiseptic white of her cell made her feel 
as if she was sheathed in a cocoon.  She felt as if she was waiting, but waiting for 
what she did not know.
	Scully huddled into a fetal position, closing her weary eyes and wondering hazily 
whether or not her food had been drugged that night.  Before drifting off into a murky 
sleep, Dana began her nightly mental exercises, designed to keep her from losing all 
touch with reality.  It began with her last conversation with Mulder-  she imagined him, 
sitting across from her at her desk, going over in her memory their conversation, step 
by step.  Forming as many details as she could recall, her thoughts invariably focused on 
remembering Mulder's face, his lips forming every word, his eyes saying so much more 
than his words ever did...
	Scully guarded her thoughts, clung to them, as all around the wails and cries and 
sounds of the night echoed from the other cells beyond.

	Mulder jerked awake, sending the TV remote flying across the room, the 
bunched up trench coat that was serving as a pillow tumbling to the floor.
	He had been dreaming of her again, his overactively morbid imagination 
placing her this time in a pen that was alternately hot and cold;  she had 
been crying out his name.
	Mulder rubbed his face with his hands, some corner of his mind wondering grimly 
whether being earth-bound and in the hands of some "black" government organization 
would be any less torturous for Scully than a more other-worldly possibility.  He 
wondered, in some hardened part of his soul, if he should be wishing that Scully was 
dead rather than...
	The phone rang shrilly and Mulder scrambled to pick it up on the first ring.
	"Mulder here,"  he said eagerly, his voice betraying his grogginess.
	"Agent Mulder?"  Mulder felt his anticipation flow out of his tensed body.
	"Mrs. Scully.  What brings you calling this late?"  Mulder felt a beat pass 
between them and then Margaret began to speak, her voice clear and tremulous.
	"I- I know this will sound silly, but...I had another dream."  Mulder sat up on his 
couch and leaned his head against the bracing firmness of the wall, sighing into the 
darkness.
	"What did you see?"  he asked softly.
	"She was in a room- everything was white.  There were many voices, hurting 
her.  I'm frightened, Agent Mulder!"
	"It's okay Mrs. Scully, its okay," he soothed, the muffled sound of crying on the 
other end of  the line bringing a tightness to his own throat.  "It was just a dream."
	"I know,"  Mrs. Scully replied, quickly.  "I'm sorry to have woken you..."
	"No,"  Mulder laughed tiredly, "I wasn't asleep."  There was another pause at the 
other end of the line, then Margaret Scully said simply, "Goodnight, Agent Mulder."
	Mulder felt odd, as if a weight on his shoulders had been shifted.  His head was 
beginning to hurt.  "Goodnight." 
	No sooner had Mulder closed the connection did his phone ring again.
	"Mulder."
	"Yo, special agent.  We got it."
	Galvanized, all traces of sleep driven from his frame, Mulder scooped up his coat 
and crashed through his room to get to the door, not bothering to pause and call back 
Margaret Scully.

	The unmarked van, it's lights turned off, rolled slowly down the street, stopping 
just out of reach of an illuminating street lamp.  The suburban street with moderately 
expensive-looking houses was still and quiet.
	Mulder sat shotgun, with Byers at the wheel.  The back of the van was a 
jumble of electronic gadgets, and in the midst of it all sat Langly, a pair of outrageously 
large headphones over his ears.
	"One occupant, sitting in the room left from the front door,"  Byers reported, 
sighting a house two houses down through infra-red scopes.
	"Watching "The Simpsons" on TV,"  the blond added from his station in the back 
of the van.  
	"Can you tell me what he had for dinner?"  Mulder quipped, eliciting chuckles 
from his companions.
	"No security systems or silent alarms in sight."  Langly flipped some more dials 
and switches on his equipment, then pulled off the 'phones and scooted up behind 
Mulder's seat.
	"He's all yours, man."
	Mulder nodded curtly and carefully opened his door.  Fingering his holster, he 
paused and turned back to the Gunmen before stepping out.
	"What I'm about to do isn't exactly Bureau policy,"  Mulder began.
	"Mulder, Mulder, Mulder,"  the blond Gunman said, shaking his head.  "Been 
there, done that, bought the T-shirt.  Don't sweat it, man, I'm enjoying myself!"
	"Besides," added Byers, with a nervous stammering laugh, "at the first sign of 
trouble I'll have the pedal to the metal."  The Lone Gunmen both burst into frenetic 
giggles while Mulder smiled in grim amusement.
	"Don't say I didn't warn you,"  he replied, moving out onto the pavement.  He 
made his way to the house, able to see through slightly parted curtains the bluish glow 
of a television screen.  As he climbed the steps to the porch, he could make out the 
droning of the set and someone's laughter.
	Mulder considered his options, his hand moving his coat aside to free his 
sidearm- then he placed the gun in his pocket and simply pressed the doorbell.  After a 
minute, a fortyish man, slightly built, answered the door.
	"Yes?"
	"Doctor Brunswick?"
	"Yes."  Mulder could see the man becoming more nervous with each passing 
second.
	"Fox Mulder, FBI," he pulled out his ID, keeping his other hand over his weapon.  
"I'd like to ask you a few questions."
	"Sure,"  Brunswick replied, sweat appearing on his upper lip, "come in."
	Mulder stepped into the house, his eyes never leaving the doctor.  Brunswick 
edged towards a drawer in a table near the door and Mulder immediately brought up 
his gun, shutting the door quickly behind him.
	"Freeze," he ordered, and Brunswick stopped in his tracks.  Putting his hands up 
over his head, Brunswick began blubbering and whimpering.
	"Don't take me, please don't hurt me," he rambled, obviously in a panic.  This 
was something Mulder did not anticipate.
`	"I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not going to take you anywhere.  I 
just want some information."
	"They didn't send you?"  he asked, staring wide-eyed at Mulder's gun.  
Mulder lowered it a fraction, trying to reassure the man.
	"No, I'm FBI."  Brunswick began trembling again.  "Listen to me,"  Mulder 
commanded,  "you have something, a metal fragment.  It has a code on it's surface.  I 
need to know where you got it from."
	Brunswick shrank from the authority in Mulder's voice, his hands lowering and 
becoming a blur of movement.  "I've got it!  I've got it!  They wouldn't tell me what it 
is, so I took it.  They'd kill me if they knew..."  Unexpectedly, Brunswick charged Mulder 
and Mulder reacted instinctively, knocking the doctor out with the butt of his gun.
	"Damn it!"  Mulder cursed at the unconscious body at his feet.  He hauled the 
body to the living room and deposited him in an armchair, then began a search of the 
house.
	He came upon the doctor's lab coat, hanging in a closet, and searched the 
pockets.  He came away empty, except for an ID tag bearing Brunswick's photo.  
Pocketing that, Mulder left the house and returned to the parked van.
	"Anything?"  Byers asked, starting up the engine and speeding the car away 
from the scene.
	"I'm not sure,"  Mulder replied, handing Langly the ID.  "What do you know about 
this place?"
	The Gunman whistled, "Mason West?  The Devils Island of "correctional" 
institutions?  Come on, Mulder, you can't tell me you haven't heard of this place."
	"Why, should I have?"
	"It was in our special Christmas double issue!" the Langly blurted, offended.
	Byers chimed in, "20/20 was going to do an expose on the place, but 60 
minutes wanted a part of the act, and while the two hashed it out, the facility slapped 
legal lockout to all media."
	"What goes on there?"  Mulder asked, his instincts tingling.
	"It's a top-security correctional facility.  Loony bin.  Super-psychotics.  And..." 
Langly paused for effect, "the occasional political embarrassment.  Even you would be 
surprised as to who they have there."
	"Elvis?"
	The Gunmen burst once again into wheezy laughter.  "Jeezus, Mulder.  You 
know how to think big, don't you!"
	Mulder picked up the ID and read it again.  "It says here that Brunswick was 
chief of staff for the men's facility."  He looked up inquiringly.  "Is there a female 
division?"
	"Sure,"  Langly replied easily, then his expression turned to one of disbelief.   "Are 
you thinking that they're holding Scully there?"
	Mulder rubbed his lower lip, deep in thought.  "You've got to get me in there."
	"Mulder,"  Byers replied, "there may be a slight problem getting you in."
	Mulder looked from one man to the other, his eyes burning with a steady 
determination.  "Get me in,"  he said tightly.
[DAY 2]

	Mulder paced back and forth inside the small office of the Lone Gunmen, his 
patience worn to the breaking point.  It had taken them all night to set up the proper 
connections and papers, and only now did they hit pay dirt;  a woman claiming  to be 
Dana Scully was listed in the records of the Mason West Women's 
correctional facility.   Mulder read her file while the Gunmen worked on 
making his false ID.
	The file said a Jane Doe had been picked up wandering the streets of Pico, a 
small lumber town in the state of Washington.  She had been mumbling about being 
abducted by aliens and was suffering from exposure.  She was brought to Mason West 
in the nearby town of Marlboro, where the facility soon ID'd her to be a patient who 
had escaped from a mental institution in Oregon.  How and why she ended up in 
Washington, no one knew.  It was decided that she be kept in Mason West for 
observation.  While only occasionally violent, the patient from the Oregon institution 
was known to be highly imaginative and delusional.
	Mulder threw the report aside in disgust, grudgingly respecting the tactics of 
whoever had set up Scully in this manner.  Any story Scully would have to tell would 
sound pretty "out there" to anyone who would listen.  And it was only a matter of a 
few false papers, fuzzy photographs, and misplaced blood tests to have her be 
│mistaken▓ for another patient.  They had covered their tracks brilliantly.
	"Here you are, Mulder."  Byers handed Mulder a laminated ID tag, formerly 
belonging to Dr. Brunswick, but now bearing a photo of Mulder.  "And here's your 
papers."
	Mulder took the papers handed to him and replied gratefully, "Thanks."  There 
was a moment of silence as the Gunmen looked at Mulder, obviously hoping he would 
change his mind.  Mulder grinned lopsidedly and held up the ID to his lapel, "Do you think 
it clashes with my outfit?"  The Gunmen shook their heads, laughing, and sent Mulder 
on his way with some last-minute instructions.

	Scully could hear voices outside her door, but couldn't get her eyes to open.  Her 
arms hung limply at her sides and her mouth was parched and numb.  The clanging of 
the opening door startled her, but she felt nothing as arms began lifting her up off the 
bed.
	The Thorazine was messing with her head.  Scully frantically tried to remain 
calm, willing her mind to go over the chemical structure of Thorazine, those orderly, 
precise chemical compounds...but it was no use.
	Dana was hallucinating.  She told herself she was, and the constant buzz of 
voices just out of range of her perception reinforced her conclusion.  Yet she liked where 
she was, and wanted to stay.  It was pleasantly detached;  it felt safe.
	Her arms were tired, very tired.  Scully looked down at her hands to find them 
grasping wooden oar handles.  Her vision widened to reveal that she was seated in a 
small wooden rowboat.  She was floating;  bobbing up and down gently in a mirrored 
pool of water.  A green forest surrounded the small lake and birds chirped in the 
distance.  She took a deep breath and could taste the crispness in the air.  She felt free 
and alive and hypnotized, the boat bobbing up and down in the water in a soothing 
rhythm.
	She felt calm and content, but then the hairs on the back of her neck alerted her 
to something on the horizon.  People were watching her.  Standing on the shore, 
dressed in mourner's black, holding umbrellas to shield themselves from the non-
existent rain. Watching.  Scully squinted her eyes but did not recognize anyone 
completely, although she knew she should.  She picked up the oars and began to row 
towards the shore, her arms aching in protest.  Scully rowed harder, but couldn't 
succeed in making even a ripple on the surface of the water.  Panic gripped her throat 
and she turned to call to the people on the shore, but could not find the words. Then a 
man stepped forward from the rest of the onlookers.
	He was tall and dressed somberly in a dark suit.  He was faceless to Scully, and 
she wondered who he could be.  The birds had stopped chirping and Scully could hear 
only the lapping of the water against the side of the boat.
	"Hello?"  she called, straining to make out his features.  The distance between 
the boat and the land stretched, putting Scully's mind into a spin- the closer he walked 
towards her, the farther away he was.  He was walking on water now, and Scully 
thought wildly how that was impossible, not possible, not scientifically feasible!  He 
stopped walking after a moment, still a blur to Scully's hallucinating eyes, then raised 
one of his arms.  He was holding something out to her and Scully reached for it, but 
couldn't move. The object glinted gold in the light.  Her hand moved to her bare throat 
and a uncomfortable feeling filled her being.  She wanted to reach the man, 
desperately- she wanted to join the people on the shore.  A coldness was numbing her 
legs and Scully looked down to find in horror that water was leaking into the boat.
	"No!"  she cried out, her voice bouncing back to her from the surrounding trees.  
"No!"  
	Scully struggled with her hallucination, fighting the chill that was seeping into 
her body and mind, then cried out a word with such force she knew she had to have 
voiced it somewhere in reality.  "MULDER!"

	Mulder stood in front of the barred gateway, not the least bit discomfited by 
the inspecting gaze of the prison guard.  He pulled his hands out of his lab coat pockets 
and smoothed the folds of his skirt, smiling amiably at the other woman.  He hoped he 
was a convincing sight;  suited up in a comely brownish outfit, pantyhose and heels, 
with a long blond wig to top it off.  The Gunmen had volunteered to do his makeup for 
him, an offer which he had politely declined.  With a little blush and a smear of red 
lipstick, Mulder was dressed to kill.
	"It seems that you are authorized to see this patient, but..."
	"If I'm authorized, I'd like to see her now."
	The guard frowned, her orange-lipsticked mouth becoming a line on her creased 
face.  "Very well.  But I will have to inform the front office."  She hit a buzzer on her 
station, and Mulder entered the females-only portion of Mason West.
	The pale white corridors stretched out in front of him and his heels clicked on the 
linoleum floor.  Mulder made his way through the ward without a backward glance.  He 
wasn't sure of how much time he had, but he wasn't about to leave without Dana;  he 
was prepared to use force, if necessary.
	Rounding a corner, Mulder approached Scully's room.  Motioning to the orderly 
stationed at the end of the hall, Mulder flashed his ID and motioned for her to come 
over.
	"Unlock this for me, please."
	"Doctor, I can't..."
	"Just do it!"  Mulder thundered, and the orderly stooped down to the lock,her 
eyes wide withh surprise.  She swung the door open with a clang, and stepped aside 
hastily.
	"Thank you,"  Mulder said sweetly with a toss of his hair, then he turned to look 
inside.
	The room was empty.  Mulder felt the pit of his stomach twist and he turned 
once again to the orderly.
	"Where is this patient?" he demanded.
	"That's what I've been trying to tell you, doctor.  She was moved this morning!"
	Mulder watched the orderly stomp back to her station while he slowly closed 
the opened door.  A nauseous knot of fear gripped his insides and Mulder hurried out of 
the corridor, rushing to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the ward, rushing to find 
a new lead, any lead, on where Scully was now.

	Mulder threw down the wig in anger, black mascara running down his face in 
ghoulish streaks.  "When I got there they had already moved her!"  The Lone Gunmen 
shrank away from him, heads bent in defeat.  "How could they be anticipating our 
every move?"  Mulder threw himself down in a chair.  "I'll never find her now," he 
grated out in frustration, burying his head in his hands.
	"Wait!  I've got something- hold on."  Mulder looked up at Frohike, who had one 
ear to a headphone.  After a minute he sprang up in amazement.  "Found her!  She's 
being held in the intensive care unit in Seattle Memorial Hospital- brought in late this 
morning, found on a roadside."
	"What's her condition?"  Mulder asked frantically, already tearing away at his 
outfit.
	"Didn't say.  But her family is already there."
	Mulder couldn't believe it;  he had been searching for days to find Scully, through 
all possible means, only to have her mother find out where she was before he did?  
Something was wrong.  "I wonder why Margaret Scully hasn't contacted me," he said 
aloud.
	"Only one way to find out,"  Byers replied.

[SEATTLE, WASHINGTON]
	Mulder walked rapidly down the hospital corridor, disturbingly similar to the 
hallways in Mason West.  He had taken the fastest plane possible and had occupied the 
time by scrubbing the last traces of makeup from his face and attempting to contact 
Margaret Scully.  For some reason, she wasn't answering his calls.
	Mulder spied the room he was looking for and ran to the door.  He reached for 
the handle when a formidable man dressed in surgeon's scrubs stepped forward, 
blocking his way.
	"Excuse me, is this Dana Scully's room?"  Mulder asked, wondering if he had 
made a mistake.
	"Yes, it is.  I'm sorry, but you aren't allowed in.  Only near relatives..."
	"Like hell I'm not."  Mulder would not be turned away, not when he was so 
close.  He fumbled in his pockets for his ID, his face contorting into an angry mass, "Fox 
Mulder, FBI.  I'm Dana's partner, I need to see her!"  Mulder craned his neck to look 
through the window on the door, and could see the back of a small woman;  a woman 
with bobbed red hair.  Mrs. Scully was not within his line of view.  "She's not dead!"  
Mulder's voice reverberated down the hallway and the surgeon motioned to some 
security men.
	"No, Mr. Mulder, she's not dead."  The doctor informed him,  "But she is in a 
coma- she's on a respirator.  Her family is following Ms. Scully's last wishes."  Mulder 
gaped in disbelief;  he couldn't understand what was being said to him.  "They are going 
to let her go."
	Mulder felt his body sag limply, realizing then that he was being restrained by 
two security guards.  He shrugged off their hands and murmured, "No..."  then louder, 
"NO."  He leapt at the door, pounding on it with his fists, then yanking it open, startling 
the group of people within.  "Scully!" he cried to the red-haired woman, who turned at 
the sound of his voice...and wasn't Scully.
	"It's all right.  He stays."  Margaret Scully, seated next to the single hospital bed, 
nodded to the security men who were advancing again on Mulder.  "Agent Mulder.  I'm 
glad you could join us.  I wanted you to have a chance to say good-bye."  
	Mulder was still staring fixedly at the woman before him, who looked 
remarkably like Dana, with the same fair complexion and auburn hair.
	"I'm Dana's sister," she said to his unasked question.  Mulder regained some of 
his sense of balance.  
	"I didn't know Dana had a sister."
	"There is a lot you don't know about Dana,"  Mrs. Scully replied from her chair.  
Mulder willed his head to turn, willed his eyes to look upon the figure lying on the bed, 
and felt all sense of balance he had shatter.
	She looked peaceful and beautiful.  Her hair combed neatly, contrasting sharply 
with the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed.  Dana looked beautiful to Mulder even 
with the mass of tubing coming out of her nose and mouth, even with the dark purple 
bruise on one side of her face.  He felt hot tears welling up in his eyes even as his soul 
rejoiced at the sight of her.
	"I know that she's a fighter, Mrs. Scully.  I know that you should give Dana a 
chance to fight for her life!" he dropped on his knees to Margaret's side, his voice filled 
with anger, with pleading, with some unseen element that Mulder hoped could call 
Scully back into consciousness.
	"It's her living will, Agent Mulder,"  Margaret replied calmly-  the calm that 
comes from finally dealing with all grief and crying all the tears that could be shed- "she 
doesn't want to be left like this."
	Mulder squeezed his eyes tightly as if that would drive the words out of his 
head.  It was evident that Mrs. Scully had already made a decision.  He opened his eyes 
and locked them onto Margaret's,  "You've got to give her a chance to come through 
this.  If you let her die, you will create more suffering than you tried to spare."  Margret 
Scully blinked but was unflinching.  " I've got to know what happened to her, Margaret.  
I have a right to know!"
	"Dana doesn't need to know, anymore."  Margaret replied harshly, her voice 
rising.  "Hasn't she been through enough, Agent Mulder?"  Mulder opened and closed his 
mouth, at a loss;  he didn't know what to do or say that could change Mrs. Scully's 
mind.
	"I can save her," he managed to say finally, through gritted teeth- and at that 
instant, he truly believed his words.
	Margaret's eyes softened and she said gently, with detatchment, "I'll give you a 
moment, if you like.  I've already said my good-byes."  She stood, and motioned for 
Scully's sister to follow.  Mulder called after them, unable to hide the bitterness or sobs 
in his voice, 
	"Is this how it ended in your dreams?"  he asked.  Margaret Scully's back 
stiffened but she exited without replying.
	Mulder was left with Dana.  He pulled himself up onto the vacated chair and 
drank in every detail, committing every aspect of that room into his memory.  The 
antiseptic smells of paper gowns, the hissing rasp of the respirator, the way the 
sunlight framed Scully's face.  He couldn't believe it.  He was thinking about her as if she 
were already gone.  He took her hand in his, whispered to her still form, "I won't let this 
happen to you.  You've got to-"  and couldn't continue.  Mulder buried his face in the 
sheets by Dana's head and simply cried.

	Mulder stood at the foot of the bed while Margaret Scully stood by Dana's side, 
holding onto her daughter's hand.  He clasped his hands in front of him and closed his 
eyes, listening to the rhythmic swishing of the respirator that was keeping Scully alive, 
a swish for each breath.  Dana's sister had refused to participate in this last act and sat 
outside the room with Scully's recently arrived brothers, trying to comfort each other.  
Only Margaret stood beside Scully now, her hand hovering over the red switch on the 
respirator's control panel.  A doctor stood nearby, watching the EKG and other life-
support monitors.
	"I love you Dana,"  Margaret whispered, "God bless you!"  
	"Sweet dreams, Dana,"  Mulder murmured, his body feeling strangely heavy, his 
mind refusing to turn.  He opened his eyes to look at Dana one last time before she 
died.  Her body was sheathed in a white glow and she lay unnaturally still.
	A loud click made Mulder flinch;  Margaret Scully had turned off the respirator.  
Mulder shut his eyes again and listened, ears straining.  There was a final, sighing hiss as 
the respirator ceased pumping life.  He could hear clearly the beeping signal of the EKG, 
the heartbeat steady, not so steady, then coming only in intermittent bleeps.  He 
opened his eyes and watched the sheets on Dana's chest move up and down with her 
breathing;  all he could see was their whiteness.  First one breath without the 
respirator- then another.  He prayed to any and all gods that Scully would keep 
breathing, just one more!  A third breath rose and fell under the crisp sheets, then all 
was still.  Mulder heard Margaret Scully break into a long wail, sending shivers down his 
spine when he thought he could feel nothing more, a wail that was soon joined by the 
electronic wail of the flatlining EKG.
	"I'm very sorry,"  the doctor said, sounding as if he were a great distance away.  
"She's gone."
	Mulder's world slammed to a halt, all images occurring now in slow motion.  
From the corner of his eye he watched the doctor guide Margaret out of the room, 
leaving him alone with Dana. 
	He watched the sheets, unable to look away.  She was being taken away from 
him.  And he couldn't move, couldn't speak.  There was a voice, speaking in his head.  It 
was gentle, jibing, reassuring.  The voice told him, "Don't worry about me, Mulder.  I'll 
be all right."  He felt his body begin to tremble and he wanted to believe.
	 There was stillness in the room.  Silence.  Mulder blinked.  Once.  Twice.  In a 
paroxysm of anger, he moved to Scully's side and gently removed the offensive tubing 
from her face, smoothing down her hair.  He paused, still unable to turn away.  Slowly, 
tenderly, he leaned down and placed his lips upon hers; a stolen kiss.  A tear rolled off of 
Mulder's face and onto Scully's.  Brushing it away, he could still feel the warmth in her 
skin.  
	He sat on the chair by her bed, crying.  He knew he was making sounds, but he 
heard nothing.  There was a great void inside him, one he knew he could never fill.  
There was silence.
	With no warning, a sound roared through Mulder's ears, a crackling burst of noise 
that nearly threw him across the room.  Mulder dared not move and then he saw it 
again;  the sheets of the bed, bobbing up and down.  Dana rattled one short, uncertain 
breath.  His eyes opened wide, and he shouted at the top of his lungs, "I need a doctor 
in here!  NOW!"  He sprang to his feet and put his cheek to Dana's lips, feeling a hot 
breath hit his skin.  The world snapped back into place with a rush, and Mulder felt 
reborn- sounds, smells, all assaulting and overloading his senses.  Mulder laughed in 
near-hysterical relief and squeezed Scully's hand, turning at the sound of the doctors 
rushing into the room.
	"She's alive,"  Mulder stated triumphantly.  The doctors leapt immediately to her 
bed and began working on helping her revive.
	"Well I'll be damned,"  murmured one nurse as Scully sucked in yet another 
independent breath, "I'll be damned!"
	"She's alive,"  Mulder said.
	He spun on his heel towards the doorway, where Margaret Scully stood, a look 
of ultimate shock on her haggard face.  Mulder strode forward and enveloped the slight 
woman in a tight embrace, laughing in pure joy.  His voice was soon joined by the rest 
of the Scully family as they filled the small hospital room.  Margaret clung to Mulder's 
frame, fresh tears coming to her eyes and prayers crossing over her lips. 
	"A miracle, Agent Mulder, a miracle!" she cried.
	Mulder had to agree.

	Mulder rested his elbows on his knees as he sat and watched Margaret Scully 
kiss her daughter on the forehead.  She smiled at him from across the room and exited 
with the last of the doctors, who were still talking to her animatedly.
	Mulder stood and stretched his lanky frame, enjoying the sensations of being 
alive.  He gazed down upon Dana, the rays of the setting sun just touching her face.  
There had been an instant in their long relationship, an instant that had made Mulder 
realize just how much he loved Dana Scully.  There was a sunset at that moment, too.
	"Mulder."  Her voice was weak and raspy, but Dana was lucid, and more 
importantly, alive.  She was struggling to sit up in bed.  
	"Hey Scully,"  Mulder said lightly, moving to sit on the bed beside her.  As he sat 
he was nearly choked by her surprisingly strong clasp.  Enjoying the feeling of Dana in his 
arms for only an instant, Mulder quickly lowered her back down upon her pillows.  
"Please Dana, don't."
	Scully leaned back on her pillows, exhausted by her effort.  "Why not Mulder?  
My God!  I knew that you'd be here- I knew that you'd be the one to help me."  She 
held her gaze steadily upon his eyes.  "I believed..."
	Mulder bent his head and couldn't look into Scully's grateful eyes.  "Scully...it 
should be me lying in that bed, not you."  He felt a hand on his and Scully leaned into his 
line of vision.
	"Mulder, none of this was your fault.  None of it!"
	"You're alive,"  Mulder stammered,  "that's all that matters."  He looked deeply 
into her eyes and said deliberately, "I don't know what I would have done without you."
	Scully smiled, her eyes glistening, and squeezed his hands.  There were no words 
to express what they had to say to each other.
	Mulder reached into his pocket, and pulled out Scully's gold chain.  Scully laughed 
softly as Mulder put the chain back on its rightful owner. "Thank you,"  she murmured 
as Mulder smiled gently.
	"We have a lot to talk about,"  he said, watching Scully's eyelids flutter closed.
	"Yeah Mulder, like why you look like shit,"  Scully said sleepily, "and you have to 
tell me how I got here."
	"I was hoping you could tell me,"  Mulder replied, but could see that Scully was 
already falling asleep.  He rose slowly from the bed, only to be stopped by a hand on his 
arm.
	"No!  Mulder...could you sit with me?  For just a little while?"  her voice drawled 
off groggily, "I only want to sleep for a minute...I'm so tired..."
	Mulder placed Scully's limp arm under the sheets and drew the nearby chair 
closer to the bed.  "I'll be here,"  Mulder murmured, listening to the measured, even 
breaths of Dana's tranquil slumber.  "Right here."

the end...
Hey people.  This is just the story that wouldn't die!  =)

WATCHING THE SHIPS- EPILOGUE  by peggy li  Oct. 31, 1994

	Mulder closed his eyes and tapped softly on the door before entering.  Stepping 
through the heavy door, he opened his eyes to find *her still there*, sitting up in 
her hospital bed and smiling at him.  Her presence was like a balm to his 
wounds, recent and past.
	"How are you feeling today, Scully?"  he asked, smiling also.  His reply was a 
muffled sneeze.  "That good, huh?"  he teased, picking up the huge bouquet of flowers 
that was by her bed and moving them to the other side of the room.
	"Thanks, Mulder,"  she sniffled, "I'm feeling okay."
	"Admirer?"  he asked, motioning to the flowers.
	"Brothers,"  Scully replied, patting the sheets by her side with her hand.  Mulder 
obediently sat at the corner of her bed and they locked eyes for a long minute until 
Scully said, "Any word?"
	Mulder shifted a bit, "Like we suspected, Mason West is denying any knowledge 
of your being held there.  The patient they identified you as has turned up once again in 
the Oregon institution.  No one is talking."  Mulder watched a crease appear in Dana's 
forehead and her eyes turn distant.  "Can you remember anything else?"  he asked 
gently.
	"I- I don't know where to begin," she replied slowly.
	"What's the last you remember of Duane Barry?"
	Scully looked down at her hands and fiddled with the ID tag on her right wrist, 
her hair falling softly and partially obscuring her face.  Mulder watched her do this and 
his mind flashed back to a similar tag, this one smeared with blood and auburn hairs.  He 
gritted his teeth and said with understanding, "I know this is hard for you."
	A tear dropped from Scully's eyes and onto the sheets, but she waved Mulder 
away with a small gesture.  "No Mulder.  Every detail counts.  I understand we have to 
do this."  She looked up at him with steel in her eyes, "I need to know what happened 
to me."  Mulder nodded patiently.  Scully's voice grew quiet and detached;  she did not 
look into Mulder's eyes.
	"The car stopped.  I heard Barry get out of the car, then he opened the trunk 
and shined a flashlight at me.  When I looked away from the light..."  Scully arched a 
brow at the memory and said matter-of-factly, "he hit me with it."  She resumed 
looking at her hands.  "When I regained conciousness, I was in what we now know was 
Mason West.  I told you what happened there."
	Mulder nodded again and moved from the end of the bed and closer to Dana's 
side.  
	"They must have moved you in the morning, before I arrived."
	"They used Thorazine to knock me out, but I believe they miscalculated 
somehow and I slipped into a coma.  Perhaps they panicked and that's why they left 
me on the roadside."  Neither of them voiced the obvious end to that sentance, "to 
die."
	"I guess we'll never know what they planned to do with you."  Scully looked at 
Mulder sideways,
	"I'd rather not know, thank you."
	"But I need to know, Scully."  Mulder stressed his next words with more 
emotion than he liked to reveal, "I need to know if you're safe!"
	Scully tilted her head slightly and a smile tweaked the corner of her mouth, "I no 
longer have that metal fragment in my possession.  I think that's all they really 
wanted, in the end or they would have-  killed me."  Mulder felt the anger rise to his 
eyes and Scully added, "He did tell us that the truth has never been more dangerous."
	"The X-Files have been re-opened and we just go about our business like none of 
this ever happened?"  Mulder replied angrily, stepping away from the bed to pace 
around the room in frustration.
	"As long as our business is still the Truth, Mulder,"  Scully replied passionately, 
watching him pace, "they can't hide from the truth."
	Mulder brought a hand to his lips and nodded thoughtfully, wondering how Scully 
the skeptic always managed to reaffirm his beliefs-  he realized how dependant 
he had become on their partnership.  When the hand dropped, his lips were 
smiling.
	"Ah!  I've got some stuff for you."
	"Oh really?  What did you bring me, Mulder,  the Weekly World News?"
	"Nope.  I picked up your things from the front desk.  Your mother brought you a 
change of clothes but I thought you'd want these back."
	Mulder handed Scully a small box from which she fished out her earrings and her 
watch.  
	"Thanks, Mulder.  When *do* I get out of here?"
	"Your mother said she'd be here in a minute.  Which reminds me, I need to get 
you a wheelchair."  
	Scully groaned, "Oh Mulder..."
	"You know the rules, doctor."
	"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were enjoying this."
	"What I am enjoying is seeing you in that hospital gown."
	"Get a life, Mulder!"
	"You are feeling better!"  he smiled.  Before Scully could retaliate, the door 
behind Mulder opened and Margaret Scully entered with a bundle in her hands.
	"Dana!  How are you, dear?"
	Dana gave her mom a hug and replied, "Just fine mom.  And I can't wait to get 
out of here."
	"I brought you a change of clothes,"  Mrs.  Scully replied, dumping the bundle on 
Dana's lap, "you'll be home just as soon as we can."  Dana began placing her earrings 
back on and both women stared at Mulder expectantly.
	"Oh!  If you'll exuse me,"  Mulder said, grinning as he turned to the door, "I'll just 
go get that chair."  He opened the door to leave and let Dana get dressed when her 
voice stopped him.
	"Mulder!  What time is it?"
	Mulder turned back towards Scully, who was staring at her watch with wide 
eyes.
	"Eleven thirty," he said, growing concerned.  "Why?"
	"Mulder,"  Scully replied, her eyes tearing themselves away from the watchface 
to look at his, Mrs. Scully staring at Dana's face in puzzlement, "my watch says ten-
fifteen."  Margaret Scully's face whipped around to Mulder's, her eyes questioning the 
signifigance of her daughter's discovery.
	Mulder opened his mouth and closed it, his eyes still locked with Dana's.  He said 
slowly, "Welcome back, Dana,"  and retreated out the door.
	
	"Dana?  Dana honey?  Dana?"  her mother asked, worried.  "What does that 
mean?  So your watch is slow- I don't understand!  Dana!"
	Scully slowly brought her eyes away from the door and back to her mother's 
face.  She blinked and shook herself, "It's- nothing mom.  My watch probably got 
stopped somewhere along the way and got restarted.  Yes, that must be what 
happened."  Scully began pulling into her clothes as her mother watched her, unsure.  
	"That does happen sometimes, you know,"  Margaret said, trying to reassure 
her daughter  even though she didn't understand why she needed to.
	Scully looked back towards the door as Mulder entered backwards, a wheelchair 
in tow.  "Yes,"  Scully replied softly, "sometimes it does happen."
	"Are you decent?"  Mulder asked, his back still turned towards them.
	"Yes,"  Scully replied with amusement, "you can turn around now, Mulder."
	Mulder whipped the chair around and brought it right up to the bed.  "So Scully, 
ready to go?"  
	Scully hopped out of bed and sat in the wheelchair, smiling.  "I could get used to 
this kind of service, Mulder."
	"Gee Scully, you're heavier than I thought."
	
	As they proceeded down the hallway, the barbs flying back and forth with 
lightning speed, Margaret Scully wondered, after all these two had been through, what 
more could possibly happen to them?  She watched Mulder and Dana together as they 
waited for an elevator, and a reassuring thought formed in her mind;  that whatever 
happened to them, she knew neither one would be facing it alone.

END! (at least, I hope so.  There's still a couple of days until the episode airs...:)