********************** Iced 09/15 A sudden noise from the bathroom startled Mulder out of his thoughts. For a split second, he was sure someone had broken through the door upstairs, then he realized he'd been asleep. Legs that had fallen asleep bunched up on the couch refused to move quickly. He stumbled out of his seat in time to see Skinner's back as he went into his bedroom. Damn! Not only had he fallen asleep, he'd been that way long enough for Skinner to return and get ready for bed! His friend must have come down, found him sleeping comfortably on the couch, and left him there. Great. What did that say for his desire to apologize? It must have looked like he was totally unconcerned! Mulder walked to his room, wincing against the sharp tingling as the circulation returned to his legs and feet. Skinner's door was shut, so there was no easy way to enter into a conversation. He went into his room and ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the door that separated the two rooms, still skewed from Skinner's entrance some weeks ago. A light was still on, shining under the entryway. Mulder sighed heavily and sat on the edge of his bed, wondering what to do. He couldn't wait too long, that was the one thing he was sure of. The longer he waited, the less sincere his apology would sound. Mulder stood and began to pace his room, thinking of what to say and worrying about Skinner's reaction. During one pass, he reached out with nervous hands and picked up the little sculpture. It had a nice weight and feel, and kept his hands from wringing in frustration. "Just go in there and get it over with." Mulder chewed his bottom lip and made another pass around the room. What was the worst that could happen? "Oh man." That wasn't something he wanted to consider. But that's what it was all about, wasn't it? Walter wouldn't kick him out. He wasn't that kind of person. Walter was honorable, patient beyond anything Mulder could imagine, and he was his friend. Mulder stopped at the door and took a deep breath. The light was still on, so Skinner was most likely reading in bed. Before he could change his mind, he slid the door open and walked through, heading straight for a chair situated against the far wall facing the bed. His determination carried him to the chair, then abandoned him as soon as he sat down. Skinner was in bed, sitting up with a pillow padding the wall he leaned against. The book he'd been reading now rested on his leg as he gazed at Mulder, obviously waiting for an explanation for the unannounced visitation. His nerve now gone, Mulder sat in the chair, lips pursed, and stared at the statue he still had in his hands. "You were right, I'm sorry." He spoke to the sculpture and prayed he could get this all out. "There isn't anything you have to do. I had no right to doubt you after all this time." Risking a glance up, he found Skinner listening quietly, all the stone gone from his eyes. Bolstered by the silence, Mulder continued. "I've never had anyone I could trust before -- or I don't remember it, so I didn't realize it until now. I didn't -- I didn't realize trust was a choice." He swallowed and looked up, finally able to look Skinner in the eyes. "There was something about you right from the start, something that made me feel safe. And over the weeks, you've done nothing but prove that. And I didn't mean -- when I said those things, I never meant to mistrust you. I just -- I wasn't thinking and I got scared. But I chose to trust you then, and I know it was the right choice." He took a deep breath and glanced down at the statue in his lap. "I'm sorry you got mad tonight, it was my fault." Skinner picked up the book and shut it, then set it on the table beside his bed. He tapped the mattress by his side, waiting until Mulder relocated there. "Mulder, I wasn't mad, just frustrated." "I know, I know. I was confused. I still am, really. I mean ..." Mulder could feel the fear swelling back up, but this time he knew where his anchor was. "I don't know what to think." "I can understand that, Mulder. So can a lot of people." Skinner shifted against the pillow he was leaning on and brought his legs up so he could rest both elbows on his knees. "McMurray was an exception, not the rule. All the people I talked to tonight were concerned about how you were handling this, and what it meant about the only time in your life you can remember. They want answers too, Mulder." "But I don't know if I do." Mulder shook his head and held the statue closer. "I don't know what the truth is anymore." "Mulder, nothing that happened in the past can hurt you." Skinner's eyebrows creased with seriousness. "We know now you aren't the only survivor, but we also know you were alone here for all that time." He reached out a hand, tentatively touching the younger man's leg. "I, for one, want to know why." Mulder nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I do." He glanced down and shrugged. "Listen to me, there's nothing in the past you need to be afraid of. Nothing we find out is going to change the way things are for us right now." "How can you be sure?" It was his biggest fear. What if they found out it had been his fault? What would happen to their friendship then? "I know you." Skinner held his gaze with dark eyes that never wavered. "And I know me. And I know that no matter what we learn, *if* we learn anything, it won't change the person you are today." "Even if that person made you mad today?" "Mulder, that's what it's all about. Friends can get frustrated with each other, even a little exasperated. Lord, knows, you've give Scully enough to be exasperated about." He laughed and squeezed Mulder's leg. "It doesn't change anything." It was time to come clean. "I think -- I think what I was doing ... I was afraid you might leave, so I was trying to push you away." "I know." Skinner shook his head a little. "You might as well know, Mulder, you can push all you want, I'm not going anywhere." The hand moved from his leg, up to his shoulder, and tugged, pulling him into an embrace. A wave of emotion passed through Mulder and he let himself relax for a moment, savoring the feeling of trusting and being trusted, of caring and being cared for. He sighed as he looked back down at the sculpture he was holding. The head of the figure was smooth, and felt almost soft under his finger as he stroked across it. "Can we find them again?" Skinner inhaled deeply and ran a hand up to push Mulder's hair back. "Probably not here. We need to find out where they came from, where they've been living all this time. And how many are out there." Mulder nodded at the statue. "So ... what do we do now?" He looked up and saw a slight smile tug at the corner of Skinner's mouth. This time the expression was all too clear, and it warmed the last of the uncertainty from his mind. "Now, we get some sleep." Skinner nodded toward the watch on his arm. "In the morning, we start poring over those maps we made with a fine-toothed comb. Peters is sending teams out to cover the areas we haven't recorded yet, and we're going to take a look at the terrain with a better trained eye, now that we know for a fact there's something to find." He reached around behind him and settled one pillow down, then tugged a second one out for Mulder. "We're going to find the answers, Mulder. Even if it's just you and I doing the looking." "I'd prefer it that way." Mulder gripped the statue, then wordlessly handed it to the other man. "I really am sorry, Walter. You said you believed me, I had no reason to doubt you." "No, you didn't. Now get some sleep." Skinner smiled and gave Mulder's arm a pat, waiting as the younger man rose and stripped to boxers and T-shirt, then crawled back into the bed. "We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow." "Right." That was as close as he got to actually sleeping. Apologizing to Skinner had been easier than he expected, which in turn made him feel like an idiot. Of course he was going to be forgiving, that was the kind of person Walter was. It was also the kind of person Mulder wanted to be. But the rest was still in chaos. His mind refused to settle on one thought, or make sense of the ones he had. By the time he managed to find a focal point and begin relaxing, it was time to get up. Walter was already in the bathroom when he realized the lights were on in the room. If he got up now, he could start breakfast and have it ready by the time his friend was dressed. Or, if he waited his turn in the bathroom, he might get a few more minutes of sleep. Within seconds, Mulder began drifting off, only to be jolted awake by a rush of adrenaline. "Damn, I hate when that happens." All thoughts of sleep were gone, so he pushed his legs out from under the blankets and resigned himself to the new day. After breakfast, Skinner left to oversee the organization of several reconnaissance teams, leaving Mulder to set up the first of many maps for study. He made a large carafe of coffee, and set up a plate with meats and cheese, so they could work right through without having to break for lunch. The worktable was large enough to display big maps, those they printed on the plotter. Mulder first studied an overview of the area surrounding Nihility Station, trying to decide in some logical manner which direction would be more likely to produce the very thing he still refused to believe existed. "What did I always believe? There are no safe havens outside the station compound." He snorted. Another lie. All those times, he had imagined hearing a vehicle rumble in, a plane fly by over head, even hiking far enough out on the ice to climb a drift, circle a hill, and find someone. Of course, that was just one of his many daydreams. Now they'd all been shattered, just as his reality had. Fine. He'd deal with it, since there was nothing else to do. He'd find these survivors, for Skinner if nothing else, then they'd all get their answers. But now he knew. All that time, he hadn't been left alone by happenstance -- he'd been deliberately abandoned. The only logical shelter was a cave, but it would have to be one whose opening could be secured at night. The terrain was riddled with mountains, hills and icy rises, nearly all of which had ice caves or caverns. To the north, south, and even west were plenty of possibilities. "Just pick one." Mulder called up the first map in order, and began a slow process of intense study, square mile by square mile. "You're going to go blind, Mulder. You need your reading glasses." "I wear glasses?" "Can't you tell?" Mulder squinted back at the map. "Well, now that you mention it..." He massaged the side of his neck and pointed at the map. "I've been looking for caves in the north. The weather is the calmest there. It's the only place I can imagine anyone living." "I agree." Skinner pulled out a chair beside him and sat, glancing at the map. "A cave or series of caves that could be secured at night. But we don't know how large or how small." With a sigh, he stood and pointed to the lunch platter Mulder hadn't even touched yet. "You want something to drink with lunch? I'm going to the galley for a minute." "Yeah, thanks." When Skinner returned, they ate lunch and talked about the possibilities in the northern mountains, then returned to the detailed study Mulder had started. Much to his surprise, and delight, his partner didn't request a review of the landscape already examined that morning. So they began where he'd left off, scanning the details until their eyes dried with the concentration. Twice, Skinner forced their retreat to the kitchen for refreshment. They spent the rest of the evening scanning the northern section and discussing each potential shelter they found. All of which either had too large an opening to possibly secure, or too many entrances scattered about the icy cliffs. And no sign of any life in or around them. The next few days passed in much the same manner. Skinner would spend the morning hours at the station, discussing the progress of the search teams and coordinating the next excursions, then he would join Mulder's studies, with new maps and information from the other groups performing much the same task. Each time Skinner left, Mulder remained behind, setting up the new map segments and beginning the scrutiny. He preferred being alone, away from the watching eyes that seemed to follow every move he made upstairs. It was an irritation he finally confessed on the third evening. "I don't know, but it started before this, sometime just after ... just after that night, outside." The memory of that night still gave Mulder a chill. Skinner inhaled sharply, then shook his head as if he'd just recalled something of grave importance. "You say people are watching you? Sometimes following you when you go up?" "Yes. And don't say I'm imagining it, either." "I won't. Because you're right, they are." Skinner's jaw clamped down hard, flexing the muscles to either side of his face. "And I know just how to stop it." Mulder never asked what his friend meant, or what he'd done, but from that evening on, he noticed a distinct drop in the number of eyes following his every move. Skinner persuaded him to take a few hours away from their studies and retreat to the hot tub for a much needed rest and mental regrouping. It was just the ticket. Steaming water enveloped him to the neck as he situated himself on the ledge he knew so well. Skinner found the deeper ledge to his liking, the one that set Mulder's chin under the surface when he tried it. The heat provided a soothing massage to muscles stiff from long hours of concentration. But Mulder found his thoughts still straying to the maps. "A cave is the only answer, isn't it?" Skinner stretched and leaned his head back against padded edge. "It's the only one that makes sense so far, Mulder. Unless we find something new farther on." "But what? I mean, you can't secure a valley and those crevices in the ice don't seem all that conducive to safety. Unless they built something, some kind of structure." "If they have, we'll find it." Skinner sat back up and looked at Mulder. "The manifest listed two 'cats and four trackers, and when we landed here we found only the one old 'cat and the one tracker McMurray stole that day. All the other vehicles were in the cargo bay of the plane we came on." "I never knew what happened to them, but then, I never knew a lot of things." Mulder glanced at the steaming water and traced a pattern of ripples. "If they left in those, and used them as shelters, they could have traveled for months, years even. As long as the batteries held up. And they could have switched to solar power, like I did, for the summer months. They could be anywhere on the ice, maybe even have reached one of the other stations closer to the sea." "We've got time to find them." "But that would also limit the number of them, wouldn't it?" Skinner nodded. "I'd guess, even crowding them together, they could fit around thirty." "I don't know." Mulder pushed the ripples away, then watched them bounce off Skinner's chest and travel around the pool. "I'm still having a hard time imagining them living out there, let alone traveling very far to do it. I don't care what lies I've been pumped full of, those creatures aren't one of them. They come in the dark, in the cold, when the generators run. You've seen that." "Yes, I've seen that." Skinner leaned back again and looked up at the ceiling. "I think their ability to leave the security of this station depends on the reason for their leaving." The heat of the water and security of the company prevented the chill from spreading very far through Mulder's spine. "I know. I try not to think too much about that." They'd discussed this before, and Skinner was keen on his knowing their friendship was secure, no matter what the truth turned out to be. Mulder sat back and let the water soothe his stiff neck. They spent nearly an hour resting in the water, then walked home through nearly deserted hallways. Neither had much of an appetite, so Skinner fixed something light. "We should take a better look at the north slope of that mountain from last night. There were so many shadows there, it would be easy to miss something." Skinner handed a plate over, then joined Mulder on the couch. "That mountain is part of a small group, too steep to take the trackers over. We should get a better scan of them all if we can." "Why can't we go over them?" "These 'cats can't get that kind of traction, especially on the ice and at that sharp an incline. They'd go so high, and then begin to slide. Mulder shook his head. "Then they couldn't have, either." "Probably not. But I think you're right, there's a lot of potential around those mountains. Something's just not right about them. I don't understand why they didn't show up on any of the aerials we brought with us." He sighed and rubbed his temple. "We'll give them a second look, and see about sending a group around the other side." "Why can't we go?" Skinner looked up and popped a chunk of meat in his mouth, eyebrows raised in a question. When he finished chewing, he shrugged. "There's no reason at all, Mulder. But the recharge cycle is coming up; we'll have to wait. We can finish the maps we have while we wait." "Good." Mulder nodded. "I feel like we need to get out and start physically looking or something." "You know, I'm proud of the way you're handling this." Surprised, Mulder looked up. "I'm serious. I know this isn't easy, but you're not running from it anymore." "Don't be so quick to give me credit." Mulder bit off the tip of a carrot stick. "I'm not doing this for me. I want to find them because you want it." He shook his head and tossed the rest of the vegetable back down to his plate. "Believe me, that's the only way I'm getting through this. You want to talk to these people, so I'm helping you find them. Anything else, I'll have to deal with when it comes." Skinner laughed, then reached out and patted Mulder's arm. "Fair enough, partner. Fair enough." They spent the rest of that evening examining the detail of the west face of the mountain Skinner named Trouble, trying to see into the shadowed areas all around the base. Mulder managed to get good detail out of the maps, but it brought them to a point so small in area, it took the better part of the night to cover one square mile. "Mulder, come on, it's after midnight." "What?" Mulder looked up, blinking against the room's lights. He'd spent so long staring at the map, he couldn't refocus quickly. "I wanted to finish this section tonight." "You've been getting intimate with the same square foot for twenty minutes." Skinner reached out and flipped off the table light, dissolving the map into darkness. "You're so tired, you could be staring at a sign that said 'We Are Here' and you'd miss it." He put both hands on Mulder's shoulders and literally lifted him out of the chair. "Come on, it'll be there in the morning." "All right." Reluctantly, Mulder let himself be removed from the table, but quickly found he had to lean into his friend for support when his cramped legs refused to take direction. "Come on, Mulder. You get extra points for staying power." Skinner led his partner to the bathroom, then propelled him inside. "But you'll do me no good if you go blind staring at the same patch of shade all night. So get some sleep." Mulder agreed even more once he'd washed the exhaustion from his face and brushed his teeth. The promise of sleep could no longer be ignored. Somehow, he managed to get out of his clothes and into the bed before he succumbed. The next day was the start of the recharge, with the station's inhabitants preparing for the almost certain visit of the creatures. Taking a break from the maps to help secure the area was a welcome relief, instead of the eerie dread it usually was. Mulder was pleased to note he no longer seemed to have an audience wherever he went, and even managed to duck out to his storage building without the feeling of being followed. Whatever Skinner had done, it worked. Having a focus helped the times they ran the generators to pass easier, and the exhaustion every night kept the nightmares at bay. Three times, Mulder found himself being forced away from the maps late at night, with Skinner insisting he get some rest. Once, Mulder did wake with a start in the dark hours, unable to recall the dream that had caused it. When he got up to use the bathroom, the bed was empty and he saw a light on in the living area. "I thought you said these things could wait till morning." Mulder reached the work area and looked at Skinner through sleep-blurred eyes. "I know, I know. I just couldn't sleep." Skinner flipped off the map light and stretched. "This stuff haunts you in your sleep." "You too?" Mulder leaned against the table, propping his butt on the edge. "I don't like mysteries, Mulder." "I thought you did." Skinner shook his head then stood up. "I like a mystery I can solve." "But you can, now." Mulder pushed away from the table and Skinner draped an arm over his shoulders as they went back to the bedroom. "I mean, you and I both saw him. As much as I didn't want to believe it, it's true. There are survivors, and we'll find them." "You're right, partner. We'll find them." Skinner gave Mulder's shoulder a squeeze, then pushed him down onto the pillow, pulling the blanket up on one side before climbing in on the other. "Maybe tomorrow. Good night." "Good night." Mulder's return to sleep was almost immediate, and filled with a very satisfying dream. The first one he'd had in a very long time. **************************************** "Here, take this, too." Skinner looked up, then accepted the small unit Peters handed him. What's this?" "Something a little fancier than those radios we've been relying on. In case you find something interesting we should know about right away." He nodded and stuffed the hand-sized unit into the only empty pocket he had left, low on his left thigh. "Will do." Peters seemed to hesitate a moment, standing between Skinner and the glaring overhead light. "Listen, while you're out there ..." "What's eating you, Frank?" Skinner secured the pocket with a quick tug on the zipper and looked at the colonel. "Something's on your mind, just come on out with it." They were -- in all practical sense of the word -- alone. There was plenty of the usual hustle and bustle in the bay, more so now that search teams were being organized and sent out, brought back in, regrouped, and sent out again. The entire group had a new mission now, aside from whatever they had been sent down here for. Or maybe not so new. Maybe just a new place -- out on the ice, instead of the station. Same mission. But for now there was no one within easy earshot. "Things have changed now, obviously." Peters sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Nothing is what it seemed to be here, since we came, but more so now. I just want you to be careful out there. Keep your eyes open, and keep in touch." Skinner's eyebrows knit together as he pondered the colonel's advice. "You're the one most likely to find anything, if indeed there's anything to find. You're better trained in this sort of thing, and now that we have proof of more survivors, I know you'll be on this till they're found." If this was some kind of pep talk, it was unnecessary. Time was wasting. "I just want you to be careful, don't take anything -- or anyone -- for granted." Suddenly it became crystal clear. Skinner's jaw spasmed for an instant, and he felt his eyes narrow at a man he'd considered reliable. "We'll both be fine." The only way he could keep from insulting the colonel was to deliberately misinterpret his intent. By the look on the man's face, Skinner knew they both understood each other in that moment. Peters straightened up, but wasn't able to gain any height on Skinner. "I have people to protect, Mr. Skinner. That includes you. I didn't ask for you to come, but you're here, and that makes you my responsibility." He tugged at the bottom of his shirt in a reflex action. "Daily check-ins, plus an immediate report of any human life signs. Understood?" "Yes, sir." Skinner stopped short of saluting, since he was far from being confined by the strict code of the military. The anger that began to bubble up when Peters turned and left was quickly suppressed when he spotted Katherine dashing up the rise toward his 'cat. "Oh good, you haven't left yet." The exobiologist was out of breath when she reached the far end of the hangar. "Unfortunately, no." Skinner drawled, glancing back in the direction of the station. "What can I do for you?" "Well, first off, you can take care of yourself out there." "You too? What the hell is with everyone all of a sudden?" Katherine leaned back, blinking in surprise. "Did I miss something? I just want you and Mulder to be careful, heading out into new territory. I don't trust those aerial maps we came down with. The whole damn range is missing from them!" Damn! Skinner inhaled deeply and shook his head once. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean -- never mind. We'll be careful." He smiled to repair any insult and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down into soft brown eyes. "Wish you were coming?" "I do, in fact. I'm dying to find a way to get a closer look at those other things you found, the balls. I have a feeling you'll have a far better chance than I will." Katherine clutched Skinner's sides, grabbed his shirt, and shook him in mock frustration. "Which brings me to why I'm here seeing you off. I know you two will be busy, but I was hoping you could get me some tape on them, if you find them. I'm dying for more info on what those sons of bitches eat, and this might help me get the study back on a scientific track." She released his shirt and Skinner removed his hands from her shoulders so she could pace around the area. "I need to learn more, and this tracking business has been a complete failure. If I can learn more about their food source, what it is, where it came from, maybe get a better idea of the ball creatures migratory habits, their breeding habits, interspecies relationships, anything! I need more information." Skinner laughed and stuffed the new light-weight portable habitat shield into the pack he'd been filling. This one didn't have the support rods that sank into the ice. This one could move if need be. "You scientists, you're all alike. You remind me of another woman I know -- always demanding more information." "Mmm." Katherine grinned. "You'll keep an eye out for me, then? Bring back some tapes?" He glanced at the roof, making a show of his consideration. "I'll do what I can." "Fantastic! I knew there was a reason I liked you." With a quick kiss on his cheek, she turned and started back down the hall. "Hey, Skinner. Where's your partner?" "I dunno, Tom. But I wish he'd get his ass up here so we could get going." The head mechanic laughed, then waved for the 'cat behind Skinner's to begin rolling out into the snow. When it was out and the large doors were shut again, he sauntered over and helped load gear. "I thought I was going to have to shoo him out of here last night, he was putting such an effort into going over the pre-trip, I was afraid he'd fall asleep under the damn vehicle." "He might as well have. When I got back from a meeting late he hadn't made it past the couch." Skinner stowed the last of their gear and secured the locker door. "You have those maps for me?" "Sure do." Tom led the way back to his small office at the far end of the bay, then produced a hard copy of a contour map, the latest amalgamation of the aerial maps they'd had from the beginning, and Hector and Amanda's combined efforts to incorporate all the new data that had been gathered. "Perfect." Skinner gazed at the map, scanning the edges where their travel plan would begin. "Mulder got these all loaded up yesterday afternoon, first thing. This is the first of the mountains, here to the left." Using a stylus to point, Tom explained the areas Skinner and Mulder had already planned to check out. They both spoke out loud, detailing the daily travel plan and any possible deviations from it. Halfway through the second week's itinerary, Skinner felt a strange tingling sensation at his collar that grew in intensity quickly. He reached up, rubbing beneath the small piece of metal pinned there, but just as suddenly as it had begun, the silver stopped vibrating. He hid his perplexity with a question regarding the 'cat's engine limits and felt the flat piece with two fingers. Tom's answer was ignored, but a movement out of the corner of Skinner's eye wasn't. Mulder had just entered the bay, and without a moment's hesitation near the 'cat, was marching straight toward the office as if he ... Of course! Skinner turned his attention back to the map while Tom continued. He'd nearly forgotten about that hidden aspect of the strange material his 'medal' was made from. This was the first time the other man had used his little trick, and he probably even carried the tracker with him. Skinner had to be at a computer in order to launch the file he used to track the device planted on Mulder's necklace. But Mulder could use a small, hand-held unit whenever he wanted to find out where Skinner -- or at least that bit of metal -- was. Handy little trick, but it clued the wearer in whenever the seeker was looking. "'Bout time you woke up." Skinner admonished his friend when Mulder joined them. "We're all set." "Why didn't you wake me?" Mulder looked questioningly at Skinner after a brief nod of hello to the head mechanic. Skinner physically turned his partner around so they could exit the office and walk to the 'cat. "If my getting up, taking a long shower, making and eating breakfast didn't wake you, I sure wasn't about to." "Oh." "You're no good to me if you're gonna fall asleep halfway out today; we've got a lot of ground to cover." He climbed into the 'cat behind Mulder and strapped in. After receiving clearance, they slowly pulled out. The entire first day was spent in virtual silence as they sped toward the mountain now officially known as Trouble. With the exception of idle directional comments or questions, and one or two stops for bathroom breaks and some lunch, the day passed in a quiet calm that Skinner relished. Unlike most of the people Skinner had been saddled with in the past, Mulder never seemed to mind the quiet. He didn't take it as being ignored, and never tried to force a conversation that neither of them wanted to have. It was probably due to the time alone, with no one to talk to. Whatever it was, it was a welcome change from Sharon. She never failed to interpret Skinner's silence as anger, or some kind of unspoken insult. Just when a nice quiet stillness would settle over the house, she'd insist they discuss something, no matter how inane a topic she picked. And if he refused to engage in the conversation, she flew into one of her moods. Skinner knew it stemmed from some kind of insecurity, but he never could get her out of it. Now why on earth am I thinking about her? It was years since she died. He hadn't thought about her in a long time, but now his mind brought her in so clearly, he could almost hear her voice. Puzzled, Skinner shook off the thoughts and checked the time. In another hour they'd stop for the night. The cycle was over, the batteries charged, but he knew Mulder would be inside the 'cat and locked up tight before the twelfth hour arrived, so they'd have to stop if they wanted to get dinner cooked before then. They rode on for another forty-five minutes, then found a good level spot near an unusual crevice, and Skinner called an end to their day. During dinner, they spoke of the mountain hovering before them, and where best to begin looking. Mulder kept up his side of the discussion well, but Skinner could see his underlying nervousness. "We may not find anything at all, Mulder." Skinner stirred the pot and glanced at his partner, on the other side of the habitat. "I know." Mulder nodded, then looked up and smiled with completely faked enthusiasm. "But we might find something, too. The sooner the better, right?" Skinner nodded and pursed his lips in thought. "Are you hoping we do?" "Sure, of course." Mulder shrugged and pulled his statue out of a pocket, stroking it unconsciously. "Better to get everything out in the open sooner rather than later. I'd be glad if we did. Yeah, we could get everything back to normal sooner if we did." "You're faking it, aren't you?" Skinner dropped his spoon into the pot and eyed his friend. "For my sake, right?" "Yep," Mulder admitted bluntly. He shrugged. "Listen, it's the only way I'm gonna get through this with anything left of my sanity. This is for you, that's all. Something you want to find, and I'm helping you out. That's what friends do, right?" Skinner smiled a little. "Right." If Mulder needed that to hold onto, he wasn't going to argue. They began packing up the dinner gear and closing up the new habitat as the twelfth hour approached. Skinner watched his friend securing their supplies. He'd been holding up well, all things considered, after they got past the initial shock and fear. It took some doing, but Skinner was able to convince the others that Mulder no longer needed so many watchful eyes following him around all the time. McMurray wasn't likely to come back, and in all likelihood was dead. Their scrutiny, though well meant, only served to add to the younger man's paranoia at the time. Skinner laughed quietly to himself and packed up the cooking unit. Mulder was certainly an interesting character. One minute a shy, almost subdued individual, happy to work quietly by his side and enjoy the company. The next, a thundering mass of confusion and repressed anger looking for an outlet. It reminded Skinner of a small creature he'd once heard about ... something from a long time ago -- elementary school ... what was it? The gear was secured, the habitat down, and the hour hand of his watch was passing twelve, so Skinner joined his partner in the cramped 'cat. Even with no generators on, no sign of the creatures, neither man pretended to want to sleep in the habitat. What was that animal? Like a well-trained team, both of them managed to set out their sleeping sacks and get into positions side by side -- Mulder on his side -- comfortably within the crowded confines of the well-supplied 'cat. Skinner waited for Mulder to get situated, then he got comfortable on his back and stared up at the ceiling, preparing his mind and body for sleep. What was that animal? Damn, it was going to drive him crazy! And it did. The entire night, Skinner's body tried to sleep, but his dreams insisted on actively seeking out a name he wasn't even sure he'd ever remember. By morning, he felt mentally drained. Mulder got up first, so Skinner forced his mind clear of all thoughts and tried to get a few minutes more sleep while his partner made breakfast. Listening to the various sounds outside the 'cat was both soothing and irritating. He yawned and that nagging voice of responsibility he hated so much forced him up and dressed, and out into the cold. He scanned the area. "Where are you going?" Mulder looked out from the habitat where he had the small cook stove set up, but made no move to join his partner. "I'm just gonna stretch my legs, and take care of business." Skinner stretched, then scratched his head, running a hand down over his face to try and wake himself up more. Mulder nodded and went back to his meal preparation. "Breakfast in twenty minutes." "Yeah." With a yawn, Skinner acknowledged the statement and tiredly stumbled in the direction of the crevice, intending to make use of it in lieu of facilities. As he stumbled forward, still half-asleep, following the lantern's light, something moving across the snow caught his attention. It was one of the ball creatures, small enough to seem harmless, and it was alone. The creature looked up at him with large, round eyes, and yawned. "You and me both, fella." Skinner dug Katherine's recorder out and pointed it at the small animal. "You and me both." Skinner wandered back to the 'cat, oblivious to the small ball which rolled happily behind him, until a strangled shriek from Mulder arrested his movement. The other man was tumbling over his feet, scrambling frantically for the 'cat, breakfast forgotten. Skinner shook off his surprise and dashed forward, just barely sliding an arm into the 'cat as Mulder tried to shut the door. He forced the door back open and clambered in, panting. "What is it? What's the matter, Mulder?" "F -- food," the younger man stammered. "What?" "The food. It - it followed you." He lifted wide, panicked eyes, pleading, "Why didn't you tell me you saw them?" Skinner shook his head, reaching out to grab Mulder's arm and pull him from the corner he was cowering in. "There was just the one, Mulder. A tiny one. And to be honest, I really didn't think about it." Mulder didn't speak, but his breathing was returning to normal. "Do the other ones come when there's just one of these round things?" "N-no. I don't know. I don't think so." "Have you seen them alone before?" "Sometimes." It was astonishing. If Skinner had asked these questions half an hour ago, he would have shrugged and answered honestly that he didn't know. But now the information was there, just ripe for the picking. "Are you OK?" Mulder swallowed hard, and nodded. "But I don't think I can go back out." Skinner squeezed his shoulder, then said, "Let me look." He moved to the front of the 'cat and looked out. "Gone. Not a sign of it. I can't believe the range of color those things have." He turned and looked back at Mulder. "Will you be OK, while I finish breakfast and pack up?" "I hate this." "It's OK, Mulder. It's not your fault. You can't help the way you react. And I should have been more alert. I knew those things could mean danger, and I wasn't thinking since it was just the one." "I'm sorry." "Nothing to be sorry about. Now, are you OK for me to go back out?" "Yeah." Skinner ducked out and finished cooking, then set two plates aside on the warmer while he packed up. He was back in the 'cat shortly, plates balanced on one arm, a coffee pot in the other. Mulder took the plates, then leaned around him to slam the door, locking it. He poured into two mugs, passing one to Skinner as Skinner passed a plate to him. "Oh, yeah." Skinner sniffed the coffee appreciatively and took a sip. "I don't know what those things are, but they're cute as hell." He stabbed a pancake, folding it and stuffing it into his mouth. Mulder chuckled. "Cute? I suppose. Did you try to reach out and touch it?" "I was asleep, Mulder, not stupid." At least not completely. "Why?" "If you stand there watching them, they don't care about you. I've even had them jump on my lap. But reach out to touch one, and they spring into the air so damn high, you can't even follow where they land." Mulder shook his head in wonder. "One minute they're cute and furry and curious, the next minute -- BAM! They're gone." Skinner started to fold another pancake, looking down at his plate as he listened to Mulder. Suddenly, it hit him. "Tasmanian Devil!" "Excuse me?" Mulder looked up, then around them, confused. "That's it! Damn, that thing was haunting me all night long!" Skinner felt so triumphant, he forgot how little sleep he'd gotten because of it. The look on Mulder's face was priceless. "I got this thing stuck in my head last night, and for the life of me, I couldn't remember what these animals were called." He shrugged and tried to pass it off without having to explain why he wanted to know the name of the animal Mulder so reminded him of. "O -- kay." Mulder turned back to his breakfast and lowered his voice. "And they think I'm crazy." His partner's wary delivery made Skinner laugh again. They finished breakfast and packed up, heading straight for the base of Trouble. Mulder's anxiety level picked up slightly as they approached the mountain, so Skinner kept him busy searching the area for a good place to start their ascent. Trouble was actually a group of mountains, arranged in an almost perfect circle, but with no clear pass or ridge low enough to climb up and over. The trackers and Snowcats were limited to what they could do. The mountains could be traveled around, but there didn't appear to be a way over. The original maps revealed a partially occluded bowl formed by the mountains, as well as a plethora of caves, tunnels and canyons. The source of that occlusion was unknown, but appeared to be fog, or steam, or some such vapor, which was patently impossible, given the location and climate. It would take a week to circumnavigate the entire grouping, and until they could find a way up and over, the interior sections would remain unexplored. But the caverns and caves were what Skinner wanted to check out. He knew, as did Mulder, the best chance of surviving the dangerous nights would be in a shelter as secure as a cave, providing the entrance could be closed or secured. But they also knew, or at least assumed, that the caves were the most logical place for the creatures themselves to live. They had to be somewhere when they weren't feeding, and while they seemed to move *through* the snow, it was unlikely they lived *in* it. By mid-afternoon, Mulder found a gently sloping rise, ascending to a plateau near the largest of the caverns they had been able to scan, and Skinner dropped the 'cat into low and headed up. Before securing the vehicle, he let Mulder do a complete thermal scan on the area. "Looks clear." He tilted the panel so Skinner could view the results. "None of them, anyway." Skinner didn't have the heart to mention that they might not register on a thermal scan. Nothing was a sure bet, and this seemed to help reassure his skittish partner. "Great, let's get settled." Skinner unclipped his safety harness and gave Mulder's shoulder a pat as he stood. "I'd love to get a peek at that cavern first, see what's what before dinner." "You really are anxious, aren't you?" Mulder followed him out of the 'cat and nodded toward the huge cave entrance visible several yards away. "I'm sure we won't find any station people here, Mulder. It's too open, and there's certainly no sign of life here." He glanced around the plateau, then looked at his friend. "Listen, if you want to stay here, maybe start dinner, I can check this one out myself." He turned to the ice wall before them. "It's nothing more than a big wide hollow, but there might be tunnels branching out further inside. I just want a quick look around." "No, I'll come." Mulder reached up and pushed some hair out of his face, tucking it up into the hood of his parka. He stared past Skinner at the cave's entrance. "The scans showed nothing big is living in there, anyway." "OK." Skinner reached back in the 'cat for his pack and pulled out a light and Katherine's recorder. "Let's go." He led the way, with Mulder shadowing his left side. The cave mouth was wide, at least a hundred feet long and twenty feet high, opening up to a huge, high-ceilinged cavern. The floor was covered in snow, blown in by the wind, but there were no stalagmites or stalactites to be seen. Skinner wished fleetingly that Amanda was with them. Rock. This was her forte. If there was rock under the ice, she would know. He whistled appreciatively at its size, then flicked on his light and scanned the walls. They gleamed whitely in the bright light, pock-marked in many places with holes and entrances. "Looks like we found a honey-comb." "A honey-comb?" Mulder shuddered as something flashed through his mind. An image of a woman, a familiar woman with red-hair, running from a swarm of angry bees. "Bees," he breathed, nearly bumping into Skinner when he stopped to scan the walls, then sheepishly smiling in apology. Skinner cast him an odd look. "Yeah, well, not in this case. More just something full of holes." Skinner directed his light to one of the darker regions. "This opening has more tunnels, probably leading to caves and other tunnels." He stepped forward and peered at the closest opening. "You know, if these mountains really are riddled with holes like this, we just might find one to lead us all the way through." "Oh man." Mulder shook his head and backed up a few steps. "You can't, Walter." "Mulder, I'm not rushing into them right this minute. But that is what we're here to do." He lowered the light and looked at his friend. The man was pursing his lips and shaking his head, apparently arguing with some inner voice. "You said you thought you'd be OK with this. Do we need to go back out?" Slowly, Mulder stopped shaking his head and took a deep breath. "Just ... slowly. OK? We're just gonna check this one out now, right? Then scan the others before we go in?" "Of course." Mulder seemed to relax, so Skinner aimed the light around again, then pointed to a large indentation in the rock wall to his left. "Why don't you look around over there. Just see if there are any more openings in that direction, and how many. I'll check this other side. Don't worry." Skinner held up a hand to forestall the question he knew would follow. "I'm not going into any of them, and neither are you. Not yet." "Right." Mulder hesitated, then walked to the side of the cave and rounded a slight corner. He turned his light on, watching over his shoulder as Skinner walked farther back. The cavern seemed topless in spots, where the ceiling was so high his small light couldn't find the rock above. It was warmer here in the cave than it was outside, a fact that Skinner would loved to have discussed with Hector. There was no way this cave could be secured, but the fact that it had so many tunnels and side caves made it a very good candidate for clues. If this cave couldn't be sealed, but it did in fact lead -- by way of a network of other tunnels and caves -- to an area that could be secured, they might very well have found their missing group. Exploring these caves could take weeks, or even months. Skinner considered calling the station and having Peters send out a larger team, but then changed his mind. No sense in calling out the troops if each cave turned out to be another dead end. He and Mulder were scheduled for a ten day exploration anyway; might as well get done what they could and go from there. "Hey Mulder? Find anything interesting?" Skinner made his way back out to the center of the cavern and let his voice echo toward the left side. "Mulder?" He glanced out at the stars, their light shining brightly against the endless velvet of the night, wondering if his partner had gone back out to the 'cat. "Mulder?" Skinner reached the side of the cave and found the corner Mulder had gone around. It led to a side section of the cavern, separated by several huge boulders -- *boulders,* not ice -- that made up the corner wall. "Mulder?" Standing in a pool of moonlight, Mulder stood stock still. He was staring at something Skinner couldn't see, something that had his eyes open wide, his jaw clamped shut tight, and his entire body shaking. "Mulder!" Skinner hurried to his side, but got no reaction from the terrified young man. Quickly, he turned to see what was in the room with them, and felt his own heart skip a beat. "Oh my God." The cave bubbled out before them with a much lower ceiling than the main room, with a rock bottom and an almost perfectly flat floor. As a cave, it was marginally interesting, the lack of ice moved it up into a real curiosity, but it was what they found on that rocky ground that had both men speechless. Skins. In perfect rows, lined up head to toe. There were hundreds of them, each with approximately a foot of space between them. He turned on the light and scanned the room, stunned by the numbers and placement. It took a minute for him to shake off his initial shock and remember his nearly catatonic partner. "Mulder." He turned and blocked the younger man's view with his body, clutching Mulder's shoulders. "Look at me." Blinking, Mulder refocused and seemed to see Skinner for the first time. "They're just skins. There's nothing alive here, we're OK." He stared into his friend's swirling eyes, looking for some sign he was coming out of his shock. "You with me? It's OK." Slowly, Mulder nodded, but said nothing. "I'm going to have a look around. Stay here." Mulder nodded again, then took a step backward so he could lean against a boulder. "Just stay here, you'll be fine." Skinner waited until his friend sat on the rock and blinked a few times, then he turned back to the spectacle before him. If the skins weren't surprising enough, everything else Skinner found certainly was. Each skin was lying beside an assortment of objects he could only assume were put there on purpose. They all seemed to have a section of cloth beside their heads, a dried carcass of one of the ball creatures, at least one or two pieces of a parchment-like material, with indecipherable scratching on it, and placed in the right hand, a small statue like the one Mulder had. Each one had the same assortment of items in various degrees and amounts, but each had the exact same statue resting in its hand. Skinner reached out and picked one up, turning it over in his hand. Skinner glanced back to where his partner was sitting. "Are you OK?" Mulder nodded quickly, just once, but said nothing. He was sitting down now, on the ground, with his back against the rock. Both legs were pulled up and his arms wrapped around them. He couldn't seem to stop staring, but Skinner could see his gaze at least moved around the scene now, instead of being blankly frozen in place. "I'm gonna contact Peters and show him what we found." Skinner walked back to where his partner sat and pulled the new communication device from his pants pocket. Without even thinking, he handed the silver statue to Mulder so he could handle the comm unit. Just as the communicator found the station's signal and sparked to life, he realized what he'd done. Mulder was holding the metal, staring at it in apparent fascination, not the horror Skinner expected. Before he could apologize or retrieve the item, Peters' voice echoed in the cavern. "Skinner, what have you found?" "You're not going to believe this, Peters." "Push the button in the upper corner, Skinner. You can send a video feed with this thing." Skinner raised his eyebrows in surprise but did as instructed. Slowly, he walked around the chamber with the device pointed outward, his light shining out in front to better illuminate the scene. "Any chance our lost predecessors did this?" Peters' voice echoed slightly off the rock walls as it emanated from the communicator. "Doubtfu," Aaron replied. "Walter, can you get closer on the artifacts?" Skinner obliged by kneeling beside one of the skins. "At first I wasn't sure what the parchment was, but they're all resting on top." "Like grave markers?" "That was my thought." Skinner reached out for one of the pieces of paper. "No writing I recognize. But I don't think it's random." "Hard to say." Skinner wasn't sure whose voice that was, and he didn't even try to guess. "Peters, are you bringing a team out here?" "The tracker's being readied as we speak. Aaron, Katherine, Amanda and I. The others will come out in a couple days, with more equipment." "All right. Mulder and I will stay here, see what we can find and record. You should reach us by tomorrow evening, if you come straight out and don't stop." Skinner stood and turned the camera back to himself. "We're on our way." Peters' comment must have cleared the room, because the background conversations faded. "Walter?" the doctor spoke up. "How's Mulder handling this?" Skinner glanced in his partner's direction, then pointed the camera there. The younger man was still sitting on the ground, his back against a boulder, but the look of shock had been replaced by a deep expression of puzzlement. The silver statue, still in one hand, was being fingered absently while he looked around the room. "He's doing fine, actually. It was a shock at first, for both of us. But he's fine now." "Good. But keep an eye on him, will you? I'm afraid of what these shocks are going to do. Too many more revelations, and those repressed memories might snap what's left of his psyche closed tight." "Don't worry, he'll be fine." Skinner terminated the call, then looked back at Mulder. "I'm gonna get some more samples, Mulder. Why don't you head out and get dinner going? We'll want to eat and be in the 'cat before much longer." Mulder blinked, then looked at Skinner, eyebrows creased. "What? Oh, right. OK." He stood, dropped the little statue as if dismissing it from his mind, glanced once more around the chamber, and left. Skinner sighed, watching him go. He retrieved the odd metal figure and tucked it into his own pocket. His friend's reactions were a little puzzling, but they could be attributed to shock and surprise. Actually, Skinner was relieved to see him handling this strange discovery so well. Perhaps, knowing this room represented hundreds of dead monsters, he felt more relief than fear. But if that was the case, it probably meant Mulder hadn't made the other, more upsetting connection. "These are definitely headstones." Skinner palmed the parchment he'd shown Peters and the others on the video, then glanced out at the spectacle. Headstones, personal items placed with each body. The skins arranged in a recumbent position, all with forearms crossed over chests. Each had cloth, other bits and pieces of things, stone and metal of various shapes, small arrangements of dried flowers and herbs, and food. If humans didn't do this, it meant something more profound than Mulder was ready to handle. Skinner wandered around the cave for a while longer, taking film of various specimens and different angles. "Another piece to the puzzle?" He looked around at the skins. "Or another puzzle entirely?" With a sigh, Skinner took one last look at the cave, then turned and walked back out to the 'cat. Mulder had been busy, setting up the habitat and fixing dinner in the short time Skinner had sent him out of the cavern. They had an hour before their curfew, and already the younger man had dinner ready, the heavier gear shifted out of the way, and inside, their bedrolls laid out. Skinner wasn't at all sure how his friend was handling this new discovery, but in all outward appearances he seemed fine. Mulder glanced up from the fire. "Dinner's ready." "Great." Skinner found their container of fresh water and washed up, then sat by the heating unit and dished up a bowl of the stew. He wanted to gauge Mulder's reactions before they got much farther along. By tomorrow afternoon, they would no longer be alone here, and anything the man was feeling would be tenfold around the others. He sat back close to the wall, facing his partner, but before he could say anything, Mulder looked up. "You don't think humans did this, do you?" A little startled, Skinner blinked, then shook his head. "No, I don't. It's possible, of course. But I don't think so." He watched his friend absorb that answer with creased eyebrows and a slow nod. Not the shaking, shocked reaction he'd expected. Was there going to be an explosion, or a complete collapse inward? Did he understand the implications? "It's a graveyard." The statement was delivered as if Mulder was speaking to himself. "Yes, I think so." "Animals don't do that." Skinner inhaled slowly, watching Mulder closely. "No, they don't." Mulder nodded and began eating. "You've never seen anything like this before?" Skinner's question was answered only with a shake of his head. "Have you ever seen one of their skins before?" "I've never seen a dead one before." Mulder answered without looking up from his plate. Skinner was perplexed by the younger man's responses, and his seemingly calm reaction after the initial shock of finding the room. It wasn't a good sign, but he decided to let things ride for the time being. Something might be brewing in that damaged memory that needed a little breathing room to come out. "When they come, are we staying here or moving on?" "We'll stay here for a day or two, then see how things shape up." Mulder nodded, then finished his meal in silence. *********************************** After dinner, Skinner cleaned up and packed away their cooking gear. The sky was an incredible velvet black, with stars shining down on them from every angle. The moon, visible overhead, was hardly even half. He glanced toward the wall of the habitat, watching the electricity of the shield dance blue over its transparent sides. Mulder was sitting near the wall, turning something over and over in his hand. It was one of the parchment-like markers he'd taken from one of the skins, and its presence reminded Skinner of the silver statue he had safely hidden in his own pocket. What it could mean, he wasn't sure. But he intended to search around the other remains in the morning, before Peters and the rest came. When Mulder finally put these statues together with his own, well ... he didn't even want to think about the reaction it would cause. Skinner finished cleaning up, then glanced at the starry night sky again. Venus was low on the horizon, a surprisingly clear celestial object even amongst the clarity that the Pole evoked. He reached out and touched the cook stove, testing its warmth, then closed it for the night, ready to turn in now. When he looked up, the sight of Mulder still sitting there, gazing at the paper in his hand nearly made him drop the unit. "Hey, Mulder, you ready for bed? We've got a busy time tomorrow." Skinner moved as casually as he could in the cramped habitat, hoping his remark wasn't going to startle Mulder into panic when he realized how late it was. "Yeah, sure." Mulder didn't even look up. Still looking at the parchment in his hand, he stood, exited the habitat, and walked slowly back to the 'cat. What's going on inside that head now? Skinner quickly closed down the shelter, then followed him to their vehicle. This wasn't a good sign. It couldn't be. His little Tasmanian devil was throwing a curve ball. Once inside the 'cat, they fell into a quick routine of undressing and getting situated. Even with some of the larger gear now outside, the 'cat wasn't the most spacious of sleeping areas. When the moon rose a bit more, its light shone through the windshield, illuminating the cargo area. Mulder slept with his back to the windshield, while Skinner slept facing it. The dark and the moon didn't bother him as much as it did his friend. Skinner got situated, but Mulder remained sitting up, still examining the same bit of parchment. He decided to do some exploring. "Do you think that was just dyed on there? Stained, somehow?" "No." Mulder shook his head and held the paper so that the moonlight hit it at an angle. "The marks are embedded." He couldn't help noticing the serious expression of contemplation on the younger man's face as he watched the light bounce off the surface of the parchment. "How can you be sure?" "I know. I did this once, a long time ago, I think. I can't remember how I did it, but you do it when you make the paper." Mulder never took his eyes from the parchment as he spoke. "No two will ever be alike." Skinner chewed the inside of his cheek, considering where to go with this. "Are you remembering anything else?" "No." It wasn't a very reassuring answer. Skinner adjusted his position a little. "Do you remember who made your statue?" Mulder looked up as if he suddenly remembered he wasn't the only one in the room. After a pause, he shook his head. "No, I don't remember." Skinner decided then to let it wait. "Better get some sleep, Mulder." Mulder nodded and finally put the paper down, then backed up so he could lie down. The moon had moved far enough up to decrease the light shining in on them. "You were wrong, you know." "About what?" Mulder rolled over and pulled the blanket to his shoulder. "You said they did what they did because they were just animals. You were wrong." Nothing Skinner could say would have pierced the silence. Nor would it soothe the sudden, inexplicable pang that shot through his chest for one instant. It was the pain of innocence lost, of trust broken, of reality revealed. But whose loss it was, he wasn't sure. The next morning brought more of the strange silence. Mulder constantly examined the strange markings even while making breakfast, saying little. This time the quiet stillness felt wrong to Skinner, but he decided the best way to navigate this one was to watch, and wait. His friend didn't appear angry or aloof, but his attention was completely devoted to the paper and its odd symbols. Skinner hurried through breakfast. His friend's silence was becoming unnerving. "I'm gonna head back up there. Peters and the others will be here in a few hours." Skinner gathered some things he'd need in the dark cave and began filling his pockets. When one hand touched the statue he had taken, he cringed inside. "You can stay down here if you like." "No." Mulder stood and quickly moved to Skinner's side. "I'm coming with you." Skinner looked up, meeting his friend's gaze. There was an urgency there he couldn't account for. "OK. Do me a favor, then. If you're going to help, carry this." He handed over Katherine's recorder and Mulder accepted it willingly. "Let's go then." He led the way, and this time they bypassed the main cavern completely, heading straight for the side room. The cave seemed darker than it had the previous day, but Skinner was sure it was just his imagination. He sent Mulder around the perimeter to set up lights, and fought off the worry of what was to come. If the man happened to come out of this shock-like trance, wake up and realize what they had here ... "That's good, right there, Mulder." Sometimes the best battle strategy was to march straight in and take what came. Skinner set about taking note of the objects next to each skin. He walked up and down each row, looking at the various bits of metal, cloth and other substances. Now and again, he knelt down and ran his fingers through the remains, amazed at the softness of the scales, the velvet feel of the black skin. He noted the small statues hidden in the folds of the skins, finding one in each one he looked in. He glanced up and looked around the room. His friend had been walking up and down the rows himself, apparently recording each skin. Skinner found him several rows down and to his right, but what he saw stopped his question. Mulder was kneeling beside the largest specimen in the row, the one Skinner had removed the parchment from. He was touching the skin with two fingers, running them slowly over the forehead and down the side to the chin. Skinner sat back on his feet and watched quietly. After a moment, Mulder reached into his shirt and brought out the parchment scroll. He looked at it, then at the skin, then very gently he replaced the object exactly where it had been found. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings, and his audience, as Skinner looked on. When the item was back on the animal's skin, Mulder again touched it with gentle fingers. Skinner swallowed and watched the spectacle. Something was going on here, something Mulder might not even be aware of. But what it was and how he should deal with it, he wasn't at all sure. Before he got the chance to decide, they weren't alone any longer. The arriving 'cat pulled up beside theirs, and the occupants wasted no time disembarking. The sound of their arrival brought Mulder back to his feet, and he quickly fell into step behind Skinner as he walked to the mouth of the cavern. "Peters, we're up here." Skinner turned slightly to glance at Mulder standing beside him. Now that company had arrived, the younger man appeared to be right back to his normal self, shadowing Skinner and keeping quiet. "Skinner, Mulder, my God, what a find!" Peters was the first one there, followed closely by Aaron, Katherine, and two other assistants Skinner couldn't recall the names of. "You can say that again." Skinner stepped aside slightly and let the new arrivals see the cave in all its glory. Aaron whistled appreciatively at the sight of the skins in the cave. "Incredible." "They do have intelligence!" Katherine's triumphant exclamation was followed by a quick glance at Mulder, then to Skinner. The look of apology on her face couldn't hold up against her amazement and surprise. "I mean, that's my theory. We haven't got the facts yet, of course." Skinner shook his head and gave her a look he hoped she could interpret. It was time to let the chips fall where they may and pick them up again, maybe this time putting them away in order. "This certainly raises more questions." He turned and looked at Peters. "Like, do the radios back to the world work yet? Have you been able to inform your employers of what you've found?" The other man waved the questions away. "We're going to have to set up a base camp here, Skinner. I have two more teams on their way in trackers. We can use the vehicles as shelter to sleep." Peters looked out over the cave floor and shook his head. "Not that anyone is going to want to do much sleeping. This could be the find of the century. Definitely the most important thing we could have discovered." "I bet." Skinner didn't bother to hide the scorn in his voice. He was certain this was exactly what these people had been sent to find, whether they knew it or not. "Or we could be completely wrong here. Let's not jump ahead too far," Aaron cautioned. "This still could be the work of humans. Maybe our missing people displaying their victories? I think we need to go about this slowly and with our heads." "I agree." Skinner motioned for them all to proceed farther inside, then glanced back at Mulder. His friend was right beside him, eyebrows creased, with a very set jaw. Skinner reached around and put his arm over Mulder's shoulder, pulling him inside with the others. "Come on, Mulder." There was a long silence for the first several minutes as the full impact of the cave's contents hit each of the newcomers. As they recovered, each one moved about with great care not to step on or disturb anything, trying to get closer looks around the room. Skinner followed along behind Peters, pointing out the objects next to each skin and showing him the similarities. He stopped once to look for Mulder, and found him perched on a large boulder against the far side of the cave, near the center, watching everyone with intense concentration. So intense, it sent a shiver down Skinner's spine. Peters set off down another row, and Skinner came up to Aaron. "Can you tell the causes of death?" "Loss of epidermis." Skinner just looked at the man. "Sorry. I don't know. I'll have to study them. Katherine probably has a better chance than I do of figuring that out. At least, I hope so. This is the first time we've been this close to one of these creatures, Skinner. Alive or dead, I've never had samples to work with before. I'll have to build a DNA database, study the composition. Katherine will probably know more than I do about them, but this is a fantastic start." Skinner nodded and looked at Mulder again. The man looked dark and menacing, sitting unmoving in shadows and watching everyone with an unwavering gaze. The shiver returned, and he suddenly knew why. "He almost looks like one of them himself, doesn't he?" Aaron's description made Skinner swallow hard. "He was fine before you came. You know how he is with people around." "Is he fine, Walter?" Aaron looked up from the skin he was scanning, then stood and glanced again at Mulder. "How's he handling this?" Skinner inhaled slowly and deeply. "I'm not sure anymore." He looked at Aaron. "I think there's still an element of shock at work here, but earlier..." He paused, calculating the risks. "These parchment things, I took one from the big one over there yesterday, and all night long Mulder was examining it. Then today, he puts it back where it came from with ..." "With what?" "I dunno." Maybe this wasn't such a good idea? Skinner looked at Aaron. "He put it back with ... with reverence. I mean -- I -- I'm not sure that's the right word." "Well, what is?" Skinner's jaw clenched, then relaxed. "He was touching the skin, in this real gentle way. Then he put the scroll back right where it had been. And all this time he's looking at the thing as if ..." "As if he felt something for it?" Aaron supplied. Skinner shrugged. "I don't know ... maybe." He sighed and looked at the skin they were standing beside. "It's nothing like I expected from him in a place like this." He stopped short of mentioning how Mulder stayed outside past the *thirteenth* hour for the first time in weeks, seemingly unconcerned. "I think it might be because they're dead." Aaron glanced once more around the room. "We know how terrified he is of these creatures, and rightfully so. Maybe ... Maybe seeing so many of them dead, knowing they can die, maybe that's affecting him deeply but in a different way? A more positive one." "Positive?" Skinner questioned his choice of words. Well, it has to be having a deep impact. It might be just the thing to bring out some of that memory of his." Skinner nodded, then sighed again. "Maybe." "No!" Aaron and Skinner looked up as one, startled by Mulder's shout. "No! Stop this!" Mulder had launched from his perch and was running toward one of Katherine's assistants. "You can't do this!" "Mulder!" Skinner leapt over a row of skins to join his partner. The young woman holding the artifact was looking to Katherine for support against the angry man shouting at her. "Tell them they can't do this! It isn't right!" Mulder turned to Skinner, his eyes blazing with anger. "What's wrong?" Skinner reached out a hand, but didn't try to grab the younger man. His anger was plain for anyone to see, even in cave's the low light. "They're moving things! They'll disturb this place! They can't do that!" Mulder's shouts were directed around the room, but his gaze only met Skinners. "They're studying these finds, Mulder." "They're disturbing this place!" Mulder turned angrily toward Katherine. "You can't do this; they belong here!" "Mulder!" Skinner stepped closer and this time took hold of Mulder's arm. "They're not disturbing anything." "Yes they are! This is a graveyard! You can't invade this place -- it's sacred!" "Mulder, we're not going to ruin anything, I promise you." Aaron stepped closer. "We're all scientists here. We know about sacred places and we have respect for that." Mulder looked at Skinner with fire in his eyes. "They're only going to record what they find, Mulder. And scan everything. They don't have to remove anything to do that." Skinner saw his friend's eyes soften just slightly, but his expression remained angry. "Trust me, please, Mulder." Katherine pulled her assistant aside and stepped closer. "We've learned a lot about disturbing things. All we want to do is get a record of everything there is. Anything we move will be recorded and replaced exactly as it was found, I promise." Mulder stared at Skinner as if he was trying to see through his eyes. "Promise me." "I promise, Mulder. They know what they're doing. Nothing will be taken." Skinner let Mulder pull out of his grasp. The younger man nodded once, glanced back at the others, then turned and walked quickly out of the cave. "Where did that come from?" Katherine stepped closer to Skinner and glanced at Aaron while the others returned to their recordings quietly. "I don't know." "What does he remember? Why would he say this is sacred?" Skinner turned to Aaron, then shook his head. "Just be sure not to remove anything, OK?" They both nodded, then he turned and left, trying hard not to think about the statue in his pocket. He found Mulder and took him on a forced hike over the nearby glacier, up and down the icy mountainside. Mulder didn't seem overly upset, but Skinner had to maintain the conversation to keep him from falling into a brooding silence. When they were both sufficiently tired, they returned and set about making dinner for everyone. Peters and the others remained in the cave until the eleventh hour, when Skinner retrieved them and brought them down for the meal. Thankfully, the group was also quite tired from the excitement of the day, and conversation was limited to the question of sleeping arrangements. Skinner ignored their discussion, knowing he and Mulder would be in their 'cat. "I think tomorrow we should move on." Skinner settled down, looking up at the ceiling. "There's still a lot of mountain to check out, and by the looks of this cave I think we stand a good chance of finding some more. Maybe even one that leads into that bowl." "OK." Mulder was sitting up again, but this time looking at hands that held nothing more than a piece of his blanket. Skinner looked at him for a moment. "Are you OK, Mulder?" Slowly, Mulder shook his head, but he didn't look up. "Something you want to talk about?" Skinner kept his voice quiet, but he knew no one outside could hear them. Mulder continued to stare at the blanket he was picking at. "All of the answers are inside my head, aren't they?" Skinner sat up and leaned against a crate, watching his friend. "Some of them are. Maybe not all of them." "Why don't you go in and get them, then?" Mulder looked up, his eyes full of puzzlement. "If it's all there, why not go get it?" "It's not that easy, Mulder. You know that." Skinner paused, searching the younger man's eyes. "We've talked about this before, about how dangerous it could be." "That was when I didn't want it." Mulder glanced back at his hands, then looked up again. "What if I want it now?" Skinner sighed. "Do you?" Mulder shrugged and his gaze again fell to the blanket. "Mulder, it's not that easy." Skinner spoke gently, trying to be honest for both their sakes. "Even if you want the memories to come back, they can still hurt you. Not so much emotionally, but subconsciously. I've seen it happen. And even then, it's not something just anyone can do. Aaron has a little experience in the matter, but that's all." He leaned forward. "I've seen what can happen to a man even when he wanted it done and had experts doing it." He didn't tell his friend that he was that man -- a man who had spent his life looking for a sister taken in a dream dredged from a questionable memory. "Trust me, Mulder, it's better that you don't." "The memories, they're coming back." Skinner blinked. "You're remembering something?" Mulder nodded at the blanket. "But they don't make sense." He looked up. "I want it to make sense. I want this all over with, so we can get back to some kind of life. I want -- I want you to know." "You want me to know what?" "Everything." Mulder shrugged, then looked up. His hazel eyes were full of confusion and pleading. "I want you to know what happened, what kind of person I am. What made all of this happen." "Mulder, I already know a lot of that. I know what kind of person you are; the rest is inconsequential. It'll come out in time." Mulder looked around their cramped sleeping area as if he was searching the walls for something. "I know those scrolls. The symbols, the marks, I know them. I've touched them before, I've made them before. I know what they are, but I -- I can't remember." His gaze fell back to the blanket in failure. "I know what they are, but I can't remember." "You will, in time." "What if I don't?" Skinner felt so helpless, it hurt. "You will. Just give it time." Mulder nodded, then scooted back and lay down. "We'll move on tomorrow, and see what else this mountain is hiding. All right?" "Promise me they won't take anything away from here while we're gone." "I promise, Mulder." Skinner laid back down and stared at the stars visible through the windshield. "I won't let them take anything away." From either of us. ***************************************** Mulder didn't want to leave, but he knew he couldn't stay here and watch them disturb things. Skinner promised they wouldn't, that they'd just record and scan, but Mulder was afraid. Mostly he was afraid of what was happening to him. Feelings were coming back, pictures in his head again with no explanation connected to them. He knew this place, or something about it. And it didn't frighten him. But dammit, he didn't know why! Skinner was up there now, telling Peters they were about to leave. He believed this mountain held more discoveries, and Mulder had to agree. As long as they were the ones finding these things, and calling in the troops afterward, he figured he could handle it. When Skinner returned they quickly boarded the small 'cat and left, heading around the mountain grouping on the west side. Mulder watched the map, following their trail as they moved around the base of the first mountain. He didn't realize how intensely he was studying it until he nearly bit through his lower lip. The pain startled him out of his thoughts, but a quick rub of the injury relieved the throbbing. "How about there, just below that discoloration on the ice?" He looked out the windshield in the direction Skinner was pointing, then looked back at the screen. "Um ... yeah, there's an opening down below that ridge. Looks deep." "Great, let's have a look." Skinner slowed, then pulled the Snowcat to a stop. Trouble dominated the sky beside them, and Skinner pondered the hidden possibilities the mountain grouping held inside its bowl. "Think we'll find a way inside?" Mulder didn't like looking at the mountain; he felt as if it was trying to draw him closer, and he didn't want to know why. "I think it's a good chance. It's probably a dormant volcano, which is why these caves are warmer and there's rock instead of ice inside. After centuries, the volcano broke up and the land changed, turning what was one mountain into a group." Which didn't explain why they didn't show up on the aerial survey maps, but Mulder didn't need to hear that. Mulder nodded, watching the pattern his hands made as they moved back and forth on his lap. "I know that parchment. The symbols, I know them." "Do you remember how it's done?" Skinner asked quietly. "I'm not sure." He shook his head and started chewing on the formerly abused bottom lip. "I think ..." Something was there, something his hands remembered doing. "It's not really paper -- it's part of them. You use a stylus, and fresh blood, and it sinks in." Mulder was staring at his hands, seeing them make symbols he couldn't remember, couldn't understand. He became aware of Skinner, sitting quietly beside him in the 'cat. "And when you work it in right, it stays. The blood stays. It -- it becomes part of them." "Where do you get the blood?" Mulder shook his head, but his gaze remained fixed on his hands. Running a finger over the palm of the other hand kept the flashes alive in his mind, but they still made little sense. "It has to be fresh. But not red. Not ours. Just -- just the right color." "What color is right?" The question was a foolish one, how should he know? Mulder looked up, feeling a sudden rush of frustration. "I don't ... not red! Never use red, it ..." His eyebrows knit together sharply as he stared at Skinner. Had that come from him? Confused, he looked back at the hands in his lap, searching for more answers. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard a gentle voice from somewhere outside his head, speaking softly over the massing turmoil. "Do you remember why? Why do you write on the skins?" Green! Steaming! Choking! It flashed bright and brilliant as if screaming at him from inside his mind. It hurt! The symbols were shrieking, demanding to be heard, but he didn't understand what they were saying! Why couldn't he understand what they were saying? "No!" With as much force as he could muster, Mulder pushed into the cargo bay, the symbols dancing away as he slipped into his parka and was halfway out the door before Skinner made it that far. "Mulder!" He turned, arms raised in defense until his eyes met Skinner's. "I'm sorry! I don't remember! I can't remember!" Skinner was holding his arms, searching his eyes with great concern. "It's all right! It's all right, Mulder. You don't have to remember." Mulder's heart was calming down as the heat of his anger cooled rapidly. "I'm sorry. It shouldn't be this hard. One second it feels like everything's there, then I try to touch it and -- Poof! -- it goes away." "It's all right." Skinner slowly released Mulder's arms and put one hand on top of his head. "It's in there. Don't try to pull it out, Mulder. Let it come to you." Dejected, Mulder looked down and nodded once. Skinner ruffled his hair gently, and for an instant, he imagined that hand pulling out the thoughts he couldn't find. Then the hand moved, and the sensation of isolation returned heavily. "What if it doesn't come?" He looked up, to reassure himself it was the isolation that was imagined, not the hand. Skinner shrugged almost imperceptibly and looked out over the landscape. "Then we don't need it." He could deal with anything. Mulder was sure of that. And if he was just pretending, then ... well, then Mulder would have to deal with it. But for now, he was content to believe his friend capable of moving Trouble Mountain all by himself. He needed very much to believe that. "Let's go exploring, shall we?" Mulder nodded and turned to go, stopping at Skinner's hand, gentle but firm, on his arm. He turned to see the older man holding out the sweatshirt he had given him weeks ago. He shed the parka, then slipped the sweatshirt on, slightly embarrassed to have to be reminded to dress, but grateful for the care the simple action demonstrated. The hike up to the opening was a short one, but despite the freezing temperature and thin air, Mulder found himself sweating when they reached it. "Stick close to me this time, Mulder." Skinner glanced at him before entering the large cavern. Mulder shook his head and looked up at the ice-covered rock. "We won't find anything in here." He moved forward and entered the cave first. For an instant, he thought he saw an odd expression on Skinner's face, but in that same instant it was gone, so he proceeded. The cave looked much like the first, large and open with ice and snow covering the floor and walls. This one didn't contain as many tunnels or holes, but it went further in before coming to a narrow halt. Mulder thoroughly searched the rocks and each tunnel, scanning for heat signatures, but finding no signs of life. Two of the tunnels appeared to go deep, but when they moved into them, using the sonar scanner, dead ends were found. Skinner was disappointed, Mulder could tell. He wanted the answers to be found right around the next rock, or just inside that next opening. When they weren't, his face became just that much more serious, that much more tired. It made him wish again they could reach inside his head and pull out everything they wanted to know, but mentioning it again would be futile. Skinner would refuse, he would get frustrated, and they'd both be right back here, searching empty caves and traveling around a mountain that didn't want them. They completed the search of every open area they could walk, climb, or crawl into, and found nothing more than ice, snow, and more ice. By the time they exited the main cavern, Skinner looked worn out. "I'm sorry. Maybe tomorrow?" Mulder hoped his enthusiasm sounded genuine. Skinner smiled tiredly and draped an arm over the other man's shoulders. "Yeah, maybe tomorrow." Dinner that night was a quick but hearty stew. Skinner took some time alone, working on his laptop, making notes and recording their fruitless day, while Mulder cooked. They ate in silence. He wanted to attribute the lack of conversation to simple physical exhaustion, but it was making him uncomfortable for the first time. Usually evenings spent in quiet company were a pleasure, since Skinner didn't require conversation at all times. It was something Mulder still wasn't used to, and he tended more often than not to fall into silence at times like these. Only tonight, it didn't feel right. Twice he started to say something, to try and get his friend to open up. But each time he changed his mind and went back to his meal. If Skinner was just tired, then talking for no reason wasn't going to make him feel better. If he was angry at something, then he'd talk about it when he was ready. "I'm sorry about yesterday, blowing up at those people like that." Mulder rinsed out his bowl in the wash basin he'd set up and glanced at Skinner. "I didn't mean to scare anyone." "You had a valid concern. Maybe your method of delivery could have been a bit more tactful, but tact has never been your strong suit." He smiled slightly, tipping his head in Mulder's direction, and the younger man was again reminded that this man knew someone else, had come for someone else, maybe even *wanted* someone else, than this stranger who had taken over his life. He turned back to the dishes to hide the rush of color that filled his face. "Anyway, I don't think you frightened them." Skinner seemed to think about something for a minute, then stood and brought his bowl over. "Do you remember graveyards? There wasn't anything like that at the station. The other people --or their bodies -- just seemed to have vanished." Mulder shoved the bowl into the soapy water and shook his head. "I don't remember. But I read about it, somewhere. It's like, there are things that I know because I have always known them, then there are things that I know because I read them, then there are things that I remember -- things that almost feel like someone put in my head, instead of me getting them the normal way." He shook his head. "But no, there isn't anything at the station. The people just disappeared. They," he choked a bit on the words, "the monsters, they took everyone. And everything." He was silent for a minute more. "I thought people bury their dead under the dirt. You couldn't do that here." "Most cultures do, yes." He looked up and saw Skinner rubbing the bridge of his nose, the glasses bumping up and down as his finger moved. "You're trying to work this all out, aren't you?" Skinner blinked and looked at him, then shrugged slightly. "Just thinking, Mulder." "You're trying to figure this all out, but you don't have enough to go on." Why couldn't he just reach inside his own head and pull this stuff out for him! Angrily, Mulder shoved a hand through his hair. "Dammit, I wish -- I ... " "Mulder, stop it," Skinner admonished. "We're both working with what we have. You're not holding anything back and I'm not coming up with anything useful. Not yet." He sighed. "I'm sorry this is so frustrating for you, but it will work itself out." Mulder nodded, more to assure his friend that another bizarre mood swing wasn't about to launch itself than any real assurance on his part. He knew he was being selfish again, angry at himself for not being able to remember and expecting Skinner to solve the problem. At least he didn't mean to be. He just wanted to be able to tell Skinner everything he wanted to know, so he could know the truth. Whatever it was. "Come on, let's get some sleep." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and pulled a sleeping bag from the rack over their heads. "Tomorrow's another day." "Yeah." Mulder busied himself with setting up the sleep area. He was sure sleep would evade him, with his mind still spinning fruitlessly on its search for information that wasn't there. Dreams plagued him the entire time, but none of them carried the gut-wrenching fear of his usual nightmares. These weren't dreams of black, clawed death, but of bright green liquid that bubbled and oozed and made it hard to breath. Green that made symbols on the skin, like tattoos, symbols that would tell a story. And he knew how to tell the story and to make the story. He saw hands -- his hands -- working the stylus across the skin, holding his breath as the pen moved, telling the tale that had to be told. A cut when the sharp pen went wrong, and drops of red that fell on the fragile skin, searing it, tearing it, making its owner cry out. None of the dreams gave him answers, though. They simply came and went, leaving behind a strangely familiar sensation and a feeling as close to resigned dread as anything he'd ever known. ********************** Iced 10/15 The next morning they moved farther on, hugging the mountain range and searching out more caves. This time the silence was pleasant as each man concentrated on the task at hand with complete scrutiny. The ground around them was changing, subtly, almost imperceptibly, but it was changing. It wasn't so cold -- though a rise of three degrees hardly made a difference in this place. And the snow seemed thinner, the ice gray in places, instead of the pristine white they had become accustomed to. Skinner pointed up at one dark area nestled against an ice cliff, then pointed to another one above. "Maybe that one." "No! Back down there!" Mulder looked up from the maps and pointed, looking through the windshield for the first time in hours. When Skinner looked at him questioningly, he pointed to the thermal scanner. "Look." Clear for both men to see, in a blinking display, were several pockets of heat, progressing into a tunnel that plunged deeply into the heart of the mountain. "I'll be damned." Skinner rolled forward, looking for a way up, but then gave up. "We'll have to climb up and hike in. How many more readings can you get?" Mulder made a few adjustments, feeling his partner's tempered excitement. The display shifted, showing a larger area, the pockets of heat increasing in size as the tunnel went deeper and deeper into the rock. "I can't find the end." "I think we found our next target." It took nearly an hour to get ready and make their ascent. Skinner had to perform what he called feats of antigravity in order to scale the steep ledge, and Mulder followed along, secure in the knowledge that his friend would not let anything happen to him. At least not here on the ice. Inside -- keeping him safe might be even beyond Skinner's capabilities. At one point, his footing slipped, the piton breaking loose and dropping to the ice below, as he dangled, held only by the cord that bound him to the man above. It took a few minutes, but Skinner made it to the top and then hoisted the younger man up. He was sweating when Mulder pulled himself over the edge. "Remind me not to nag you to eat so much," he said with a grin as he helped his agent to his feet. "That was amazing." Mulder whistled appreciatively at the man's abilities, then added, "Thanks." Skinner shrugged casually, then flashed a sideways, cocky grin. "It was pretty good, wasn't it?" He laughed and pointed upward. "Let's go have a look." Carrying packs stuffed with supplies so that they would not have to descend before the last possible moment, they moved on toward the cave. "Look at this." Skinner was the first to reach the opening, shining his powerful light into the tunnel. The light at the end was swallowed by the distance. "Can you get any farther now?" Mulder had the thermal scanner in hand, as well as the sonar scanner used for mapping the rock walls beneath the ice. He swung them both up and aimed them into the tunnel. The display lit up again, heat pockets visible within the tunnel, growing larger and more numerous as the passageway went deeper. The sonar beeped as it bounced against the walls, and the temperature gauge on the corner of the unit climbed another degree as they watched. "It's beyond the range." Mulder looked up at Skinner. "Does that mean it goes all the way through?" Skinner's eyes were sparkling in the dim light. "We'll find out soon enough." "Wait a minute!" Suddenly alarmed, Mulder reached out and grabbed Skinner's arm. "We're going through? Right now? What about ..." He let his voice trail off, but nodded over his shoulder toward the starry night sky, and their only means of assured safety, the Snowcat forty feet down the ledge. "Relax, Mulder. I just want a look. We'll head in and see how far it goes. Here." Skinner reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. "It's the eight o'clock now. So we have ten hours until we need to be concerned, right?" He glanced at the face of the illuminated timepiece, then handed it to Mulder. "We'll walk no more than four, then have four to walk back. That gives us a nice two hour margin of safety." Mulder inhaled deeply, gazing at the watch in his hand. There was no way of knowing where they were, what they were walking into, but he had no choice. This was the only way Skinner would get his answers. But he intended to keep the watch in hand and the time in mind at all times! "OK. Let's go before I change my mind." Skinner smiled and patted his back, then nodded down the tunnel and began leading the way. It was wide enough to allow side by side travel, but Mulder preferred to position himself slightly behind and beside his taller partner. He kept the thermal scan working, so they wouldn't be surprised by anything up ahead, but having Skinner be the first to find anything they came across gave Mulder a sense of security. The farther they went, the more his need for that feeling deepened. The tunnel was drying out as they moved inward, the ice and snow giving way to rock in places, and the temperature continued to creep upward. Once they'd ventured far enough inside for the mouth to no longer be visible behind them, the full scope of the thing began to hit. Mulder could practically feel the mountain around and above him. A sense of being inside the belly of a massive ball of stone pressed against his mind. The thickness of the walls around him was so oppressive, it became easy to imagine the mountain itself was a living thing, with mass and substance. Not a creature in the usual sense, but Mulder felt certain something with this much presence deserved his respect. They plodded onward, through the tunnel, while their lights bounced around rock walls and disappearing ice ground. There were no signs of human life, no signs of the others, and no signs of any more of the skins. Skinner stopped to look at and record a couple of odd geologic formations for Amanda, but they never slowed too much. He wanted to get as much distance covered as they could before the four hour limit was up. And that meant eating on foot. Mulder wasn't hungry, but his constant nervousness had dried out his throat, so he carried his water bottle while Skinner chewed the dried meat and searched the ground for clues. "There aren't any footprints." "No, but there are enough of these." Skinner stepped over another of the odd black marks that seemed to be seared into the rocky ground. "I'd like to know what caused these. They almost look like the marks left behind when a bomb goes off in a tightly contained space -- intense heat in a focused area." Twice they stopped to take further sonar readings, but each time the soundings faded toward the end. It was a phenomena they soon learned was caused by the tunnel taking a severe turn, putting their once straight path into a right angle, before jogging around to head in the proper direction again. Skinner concluded the tunnel must be like the others, a labyrinth around and through the mountains, only this one might actually be the one that got them in to the center. Mulder glanced at the watch. It had been four hours; time to return. He looked up and saw Skinner pausing for a drink from his own water bottle. They'd have a margin of two hours, and the trip in so far had been uneventful. Nothing blocked their retreat, except the black stains on the rock. Nothing in the tunnel had proven dangerous, and the opposite end could be just a few miles more. "How we doin' on time, Mulder?" He put the watch into a pocket and nodded. "We're fine. Let's keep going." "As soon as the tunnel straightens out again, take another reading. We have to be getting close. And it's getting downright hot in here," he added as he unzipped the heavy parka. Skinner motioned with his head and they continued on, working their way through a strange series of twists and turns. By the time they were back in the right direction, he stopped. "See if you can ..." Mulder looked up when his partner's sentence trailed off. Skinner was staring at the dirt, aiming his beam straight down at his foot. "What is it?" "I hit something." Skinner reached down and dug his fingers through the sand. After a second, he pulled out a small, metal pin. A Lieutenant Colonel's insignia. "What ...?" Mulder had to swallow against a suddenly dry throat as he stared at the small piece of metal in his partner's hand. "No." Mulder changed his focus and saw Skinner's face. His jaw had clamped down so hard, even the vague light from his own small lantern showed the rippled muscles in his face. Skinner held out the light. "It's McMurray." "Walter!" Mulder's shock caused him to miss a beat, and the other man got ahead of him, running down the tunnel. "Wait!" He let the scanner slam against his waist and dashed after his friend. "If he's alive, I'm not leaving here without him!" Skinner called over his shoulder. Mulder kept running. His heart pounded with each step, fueled by apprehension and the sudden surprise. McMurray was the last person he expected to find, and the shift in focus was hard to follow, especially at this pace. Skinner finally came to a halt when the tunnel made another turn and branched into several directions. He had a hand up, stopping Mulder behind him. "Give me the scanner --" Before he could finish the sentence, something flashed to their left. Mulder heard Skinner's shout, then felt his friend slam into him. Before he could comprehend what was happening, the entire mountain came crashing down. ******************************************** Orange spots flashed painfully before his eyes. Mulder reached up to shield them, then realized they were still closed. A hand touched his face, moving to his forehead. Someone must have pulled the mountain off him. But what about ... "Walter?" Oh God! The mountain hadn't moved, it was sitting right on top of his head! "Take it easy, Mulder." Mulder opened his eyes, blinking back against the painful throbbing in his head. He was lying down, on some kind of bed, with Skinner sitting beside him looking down with concern and fatigue in his eyes. "Wha ...?" He sat up, or at least, he tried. An action he thought would bring him to a sitting position ended with him leaning over Skinner's lap, trying very hard not to be sick. "Slowly! You have to move slowly." Skinner held him for a moment, then eased him up to a sitting position, all the while keeping hold of his shoulders. "What hit us?" Mulder held his head, trying to push the pain out. "You mean who. And I suspect it was a pipe or club or some kind." They were seated on a heavily blanketed stone bed. "Look at me." He searched Mulder's eyes, then nodded satisfaction with what he found. "I'd think you'd remember this. You've been knocked on the head enough times. It hits you like --" "Like the mountain came down?" The sharp pains were turning into a strong, deep pounding. "Yeah, something like that." Skinner's hand moved up to Mulder's head. "Is it any better now?" "I think so." He nearly moved his head in affirmation, but realized in time how painful that motion would be. "Where are we?" "I'm not sure." Skinner turned and nodded toward an opening. "But we're not locked in." Mulder looked up, then around, seeing their surroundings for the first time. They were in room -- a small hollow of a cave -- with a fire burning in a pit in the center, two blanketed beds, several large boulders with candles and dishes sitting on them, and a wide-mouthed opening that seemed to serve as a doorway without a door. "McMurray did this?" "No, I don't think so." Skinner pointed around the room. "It's been here too long, and that door leads out to more caves and tunnels." "You looked?" Suddenly the realization that they had been moved out of the tunnel and taken somewhere, by an unknown assailant, was kicking in. What if he'd woken up alone? How long had they been there, and what was going to happen if they couldn't leave? McMurray wanted them both dead; why weren't they already? "I haven't been farther than the door; I was waiting for you to wake up." Skinner stood and pointed to a low, flat rock. "All of our stuff is here, with the exception of my sidearm. They emptied our pockets but only took the weapon." "They?" Mulder slowly eased his feet off the sleeping-pallet and sat on the edge of the stone, waiting for a rush of nausea to pass. "Has to be more than one. I can hear voices in the distance." Skinner pointed to a pair of metal bowls. "They left food, and water, so they don't mean to kill us right away. But the water is laced with that sedative." He looked at Mulder again. "I never asked you where that came from. Now, I'm not sure I want to know. Anyway, I'm not sure if it's meant as medicine, or to drug us." More than one. The others were alive after all? Then they were here. And in control. "Walter, what do we do now? Why did they attack us? Where are they?" He could no longer chalk up the man in the compound as an imagined nightmare. "We're going to find all that out soon enough, Mulder." Skinner returned and reached down, helping Mulder to his feet. "How do you feel?" "I'm OK." The nausea had passed, thankfully without incident, and the pain in his head was reduced to a nasty headache. Skinner turned toward the doorway and Mulder grabbed his shirt, fighting the desire to climb inside it to hide. He was suddenly too afraid to be embarrassed by the action, and clung to his partner while they exited the small room. "Whatever we find, Mulder, we have to be careful. Until we know what we're dealing with." He swallowed hard and nodded, then released one hand from its death grip on Skinner's shirt, but not the other. They left the room and entered a tunnel hallway, nearly identical to the one that had led them inside the mountain, but wider. Voices could be heard in the distance, echoing as if through a vast chamber. Skinner turned left, toward a glowing orange light, and began walking cautiously ahead. After a few yards, their hallway opened up, and Mulder's world fell apart. They were standing on a ledge overlooking a cavern so massive in scope and riddled with levels, rooms and tunnels, it would take weeks to map out completely. Below them in the center of the main level was a group of large fires, glowing orange and yellow and full of life. Surrounding the fires were a number of men and women, each going about a cooking chore, laughing and talking amongst themselves. The entire cavern was strewn here and there with the usual accouterments of human life and living. Blankets hanging on lines, food being prepared in large quantities, people scurrying back and forth as they completed tasks. Mulder felt numb inside, as if his brain had stopped functioning completely. There were at least fifty people here, maybe more. And on the other ridges and ledges they could see ringing the cavern, people came and went, entering and exiting various tunnel corridors and smaller caves. There were people here, a society. Living and breathing and eating and sleeping. His people! It felt as if his mind was closing off, refusing to accept this information. Slowly, Mulder shook his head and backed away from the sight. He still had hold of Skinner's shirt, but his fingers had gone numb and released the fabric when his back hit the rock wall. He was vaguely aware of Skinner turning to face him, but his eyes wouldn't focus. "Mulder." He tried opening his eyes wider, but that didn't help. His gaze was fixed somewhere near the ground and he couldn't raise it. "There's your answer." Two years of solitude and isolation were pressing down on him, adding to the throbbing in his head. "All that time I was alone ... they've been here." He shook his head again and felt Skinner's hands on his arms. Suddenly his eyes focused and he looked up. "Why?" Anger was trying to build up through the confusion. "I want to know why!" "Mulder ..." "Why, Walter? Why wasn't I here? Why was I alone?" "Take it easy, we're going to find out. I need you to ..." Skinner's sentence trailed off and his gaze moved from Mulder's face to somewhere behind him. "Hello." Mulder spun around and took a half-step closer to his partner, blinking. Facing them on the sandy ledge was a small child, a girl, looking up at them with a big smile and a dirt-stained face. "Hello." Skinner answered her without moving forward. "You're new here." She pointed to Skinner, not even glancing at Mulder. "We're from the complex." Suddenly the girl erupted into a scream, turned around and ran quickly away, still screaming at the highest pitch Mulder had ever heard. Alarmed, both men looked around for signs of trouble. Several people below looked up, saw them standing there, then seemed to shrug acknowledgment and returned to their tasks. Mulder's heart had leapt into his throat and he had to swallow hard to get it back down. "You frightened her." They spun again, this time in the opposite direction. Now facing them was a woman, around Skinner's age, dressed in brown ragged clothes. Pale blue eyes peered at them from behind dirty gray hair. "She'll have nightmares tonight, for sure." The woman pointed in the direction the young child had run. "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to scare her." Skinner glanced at Mulder, then back to the woman. "What's your name?" Mulder stared at the woman, his eyes narrowing with concentration. She was totally unfamiliar; he had no feeling that he should know her. The pain in his head was nothing now to the twisting knots in his stomach. The woman glanced at him and shrugged. "Andrea." Suddenly she stared into his eyes and her own brow furrowed. "You're him -- the one. Still alive, aren't you?" Mulder felt a chill grip his body and he pressed sideways, touching Skinner. If the ground gave way beneath him, and this all became the nightmare, he wanted something to hold on to. "Who? Who am I?" Slowly, Andrea reached out and pressed three fingers against Mulder's chest. If he hadn't been leaning against Skinner, he would have bolted right then. When she touched him, he heard her sudden intake of breath and the hand pulled back quickly. "You are real!" With awe, she looked at Mulder, then Skinner, then back again. Suddenly she shook her head. "No, you can't be. I'm still sleeping." That announcement seemed to fix everything. With a satisfied smile, she turned and walked away. Mulder was dizzy. "If you ever need something to go by, Mulder, that is what crazy looks like." Skinner stepped around and faced Mulder. "Listen, we're going to have to be very careful here. I don't know what's going on, but until we can figure this out, we'll have to go slowly. Understand?" "No." Mulder shook his head and focused on the center of Skinner's chest. He needed a reference point for reality, or what little there was left of it. He just wanted to melt into the rock wall and let Skinner go find all the answers, then come get him on the way home. He didn't even want to know what the answers were anymore. The only thing keeping him from willing himself into the rock was his need to stay as close to his partner as possible. "No, I don't understand any of it." "Just stick with me, Mulder. I'll take care of us, OK?" That he understood. Mulder managed one quick nod, then moved into step beside Skinner, keeping his partner between himself and the open area below. They followed the ledge around the bowl, snaking in and out of tunnels as they made their way to the lower level. On the way, they passed several small caves like the one they'd woken up in, each filled with beds, small fires and personal items. It was a city, a stone-carved version of the complex, with a huge center area apparently for eating and working, and smaller caves and hollows for personal space. And it was hot! People wore nothing more than long sleeved shirts and light jackets, or the occasional blanket poncho. Mulder could feel his hands starting to shake, so he clutched Skinner's shirt once again, determined not to stray more than a foot from his only protection. He fully expected, any second now, for someone to grab him from out of nowhere. Someone he should know but didn't. All of these people knew him, with the exception of the children. He had no memory of children. But then, he had very little memory of anything. They rounded a corner and found themselves at the far edge of the open common area, facing a huge communal kitchen. In the center of the room was a low table heavily laden with plates of steaming meats, vegetables and several other dishes and platters. Mulder stepped closer to Skinner, hiding partially behind him as they scanned the scene. He was afraid of recognizing anyone, and afraid he wouldn't. Several people milling about glanced at them, but none were impressed by the presence of these two strangers. "Be careful, Mulder. I don't like the looks of this." Mulder looked up, about to inform his partner how unnecessary that suggestion was, but before he could speak, they were approached from behind by a man with clear green eyes, a man he did know. "Don't eat the food." Skinner spun around. "Norton!" He took a step forward but Mulder held onto him. "I should have known you and the others would be here too. Where's McMurray?" Norton looked like a frightened animal. His eyes were wide, and held an element of madness Mulder had never seen before. The man pointed toward the open room, his voice a desperate whisper. "McMurray's with their leader somewhere. Sorkowski is dead. They're mad, Skinner! You've got to help me get out of here! These people are mad!" "Help you?" Skinner was incredulous, but also kept his voice lowered. "You tried to kill us, then stole a tracker and broke McMurray out." "I know, I know, and I'm sorry." Norton glanced from Skinner to Mulder and back again. "It was crazy, I admit it. Please, you gotta help me! Take me back. I'll stand trial, I'll do whatever you want, just get me out of here!" "Walter?" If this madman thought these people were crazy ... Skinner glanced at Mulder, then glared back at Norton. "Why don't you just leave?" "It's not that easy." Norton shook his head, then nodded toward the dining area. When Skinner and Mulder glanced that way, they saw everyone in the huge room moving toward the tables, preparing to eat. "They put something in the food here; it'll put you to sleep until you get adjusted to it. I think they use it to keep everyone docile." Mulder looked up at his partner. "What do we do?" "You have to get to the food before they cook it, and there's water in a cave down below." Norton moved forward, but walked around them in the direction of the large table. "Welcome to Nihility, Agent Mulder. This is the *real* nothingness." They turned and Mulder felt Skinner move to stop Norton, but he pulled his friend back. People were watching them now, people with wide eyes and dilated pupils, and strange expressions on their faces. The low table seemed to hold everyone, and branched off in several places. He estimated sixty people sitting there, all talking and passing food around. Four of the closest to them looked up and smiled, then several moved aside and made room for Norton, who sat down but didn't reach for any of the food. A man older than Skinner waved to them, then patted some pillows on the floor, making a place for the two of them. "Come, sit." The man smiled and nodded at the food. "This will be your place now." Mulder wanted to turn and run, but Skinner pulled him to the table and they sat on the pillows piled up on the sand. Sand! They were in the Antarctic -- why was it so warm? Somewhere deep inside him, his primal fear of warmth and heat started to grow again. He stared straight ahead, trying not to look at anyone for fear he'd recognize them. But the fear he wouldn't was stronger. They were at one of the ends of several connected tables, so Mulder had Skinner between him and the nearest of the strangers, then an open shot to bolt if he felt the urge. Only ... bolt where? "Can you tell me how we got here?" Skinner spoke very casually, as if he wanted to engage the older man in simple conversation to pass the time. "My friend and I were just walking in one of the tunnels, then woke up here." "Yes, yes." The old man nodded, reaching for a slab of meat. "You were in the tunnels. It's forbidden to be in the tunnels." He spoke matter-of-factly, then handed them the plate of meat. Skinner glanced at the plate, then handed it along with a quick shake of his head. Mulder could smell the musky scent of the sedative even without getting closer to the food. It was in everything, as if they used it for spicing. "We're not from here; we didn't know about the tunnel." "No, I wouldn't think so. No one is from here." Mulder felt a chill grab his shoulders, then the icy trickle as sweat began to slide down his back. He shivered in Skinner's sweatshirt. He risked a quick look around while Skinner spoke to the mad old man. Now and again someone looked in their direction, but they seemed to take little notice of the newcomers. He kept himself from staring too long at any one person, but so far none of them were sparking any memories. "Is there someone in charge here?" "Yes, there is." The old man leaned closer. "He doesn't eat with us, he lives up there." Both Skinner and Mulder turned to see where the old man was pointing. It was to a ledge, nearly at the top of the cave, where light could be seen coming from another cave room. "I'd like to meet him. Will he come down, do you think?" "Likely." The old man wiped a hand on his shirt and held it out for Skinner to shake. "Name's Armentraut." The first group's biophysicist! Skinner accepted the hand. "I'm Walter Skinner, this is --" "I know that one." Mulder stared at the man sitting beside Skinner. "How?" He kept his partner between him and the stranger, but used that as his source of what little courage he could muster. "How do you know me?" Armentraut shrugged and reached for more meat. "Everyone does. Though some think you're not real anymore." A wide smile crossed his face and he stabbed a finger at his chest. "But I know better. I know you're real. It's them that ain't!" The finger moved in a sweeping gesture to include the entire room. Skinner glanced at Mulder and shook his head, a gesture he took as caution. The old man was happily munching on some dried apples, waiting for more questions. "How long have you all lived here?" Skinner nodded around the room, including everyone. Armentraut shrugged. "Forever, it seems. We're not from here. No one's from here. But you can't leave, the tunnels are forbidden." Another shiver ran down Mulder's spine. What if they were trapped here? What if his inability to remember anything had brought Skinner here only to be trapped? Someone would find them, they had to. Yes, Peters would. He'd come looking for Skinner, see the 'cat and ... But would they come up? Would they make the climb and follow the same path in the tunnels? Not for him. But for Skinner, yes, Peters and the others, they'd come looking for Skinner. "Where are you from, then, if not here? How did you come to be here?" Skinner's questions were beginning to circle the old man's insanity. "We followed. Not much to that, is there? We followed, and now we're here. Never follow someone when you don't understand." Armentraut suddenly waved a hand. "You're here now, you'll know. I'm tired of this game. Perhaps we can play again tomorrow?" Skinner sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Yes, tomorrow." Armentraut grinned happily, then picked up his plate and stood, walking away in the direction of several others who seemed finished with their meal. Mulder tugged Skinner's shirt, leaning closer. "What are we going to do?" "We're going to find someone with some real answers." Skinner stood and reached down to help Mulder to his feet. Dinner was over, even Norton had walked off somewhere. "Let's see if we can't find the person in charge." He nodded over Mulder's shoulder, to the fire-lit cave above. Mulder sighed and pushed some strands of dark hair from his face, then rubbed tired eyes. "Walter, I don't understand this." "I know, Mulder, neither do I yet. We're dealing with various levels of insanity here, I think. Probably brought on or perpetuated by eating that sedative in every meal." Skinner glanced back at the table, then around the room at the people milling about. "I'd guess long term exposure causes some form of dependency or mental apathy." He cast an appraising look at his friend. "I'd like to know where that herb came from, and why you don't seem to be affected like these people. You've used it quite a bit." "I want to go home." He was ready to concede defeat here and leave, let Peters send some team in to talk to these people, find out the truth. They could write up a report and he'd read it sometime, maybe. Memory loss had some advantages, and he'd just been getting used to it. "I want to find out what the hell's going on." Skinner looked down. "I want to find out what kind of people can do what they did. Following someone -- or something -- blindly. Abandoning you without a care. And Mulder, these people seem to be here against their will. We need to get to the bottom of all this once and for all. You with me, Mulder?" He knew that would be Skinner's answer, knowing the kind of man he was. But damn, he wanted to go home! Mulder managed a weak nod. "Come on. Let's see if we can figure this maze out and find our way up there." Skinner pointed to the room above, then put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and started walking toward a promising-looking opening at the far end of the cavern. The tunnels snaked around the edges of the cavern, and at several points plunged deeper into the mountain, leading off into other branches and maze-like trails. They were well-lit by oil-filled lamps and candles, some hanging from odd-looking holders and candelabras, while others just sat on small rocks jutting out from the walls. Mulder followed Skinner closely, trying not to look around too much. Now and then someone would pass them with a strange nod or expression, but more often than not, they were ignored. Each time someone approached or came near, Mulder tried to avoid eye contact. He needed to recognize these people, but he was afraid to at the same time. After several wrong turns and dead ends, Skinner finally figured out the maze and found the proper path leading to the top. Mulder ignored convention and embarrassment and clung unashamedly to his partner's belt with two fingers of one hand. Skinner didn't seem to mind, so he continued the practice through each of the tunnels and paths. Using his friend as a shield to hide behind when they came near one of the inhabitants gave him the opportunity to glance the strangers over without being looked at too closely. He couldn't understand how casually they were taking it. It was as if they'd been expecting new arrivals. As if they'd been expecting him. They finally reached the upper level and found themselves in a straight line path looking toward the opening they'd seen from below. Skinner nodded silently and Mulder looked up, seeing the same thing. "Guards?" "Looks like it." The cave mouth had two sentries, each holding some kind of weapon. "What do we do?" "Introduce ourselves," Skinner answered wryly. He stepped forward, passing a side tunnel, then stopped suddenly when a hand reached out and touched his arm. Mulder nearly jumped out of his skin. This was getting exhausting! "Don't bother tonight, gentlemen." Skinner turned to face the owner of the hand that stopped him. He glanced back at Mulder, then looked at the man. He was older, possibly Peters' age, wearing a dirty blanket that dragged the dirt floor. His face wore the fragments of a snow white beard, contrasting with his dark jet eyes and dark skin dramatically. The old man looked at Mulder, and a strange, almost sad smile crossed his face. "We were looking for the man in charge." Skinner nodded toward the guarded entrance. "I understand he's in there." The old man nodded. "Yes, he is. But when the guards are out, no one gets in. You should try again tomorrow." He waved at them both, gesturing them into his tunnel. "Come, talk with me. I have no guards." Skinner looked at Mulder again, then seemed to be weighing their choices. After a moment, he nodded and followed the man down the path with one last glance at their missed goal. "My name is Skinner. Walter Skinner. And this is --" "Yes." Their guide interrupted, then stopped at an entrance and motioned for them to go first. He smiled kindly, then nodded at Mulder. "This is the one." Mulder didn't want to go in. He didn't want to talk to any more of these people who knew him, didn't want to hear any more of their cryptic remarks or confusing statements. But the anchor he was attached to was going in, so he had to follow. They entered a rather large cave, glowing soft orange with the light of a fire and several candles. The old man pointed to the fire and stacks of blankets, obviously used for seating, then made himself comfortable on one, smiling up at them. Skinner moved to the closest, but Mulder declined sitting. He was too shaky to sit still, and too afraid to look closely at this man. His raging emotions and confusion were also wearing him out, and the mere act of sitting down could finish him off for the night. It was easier to move slowly around the strangely furnished room and look at things, anything. "They call me Healer." The old man smiled, calmly watching Mulder move around the room. He turned to Skinner. "I used to have a name, actually. But that was before." He waved a hand in the air, dismissing the notion. "Now, I'm just Healer." Mulder glanced at the man during a sudden -- brief -- moment of bravery, and scanned his face for something recognizable. Failing, he looked at Skinner and found his partner watching him quietly. "And you're Fox Mulder." Startled, Mulder looked at him again. "You know me?" It was a stupid question, he knew. "Of course!" Healer looked incredulous. "Everyone does." He turned to Skinner. "But you're new." "I'm from the complex," Skinner offered. Healer shook his head. "No, you're not. You haven't been here long enough to be from there. You're from out there." He pointed to the cave's ceiling. "The World, right?" Was this man sane? If he was, he was the first one they'd met so far who might have what Mulder didn't want: answers. "Yes. I'm from the FBI, actually." Skinner leaned forward slightly. "I'm part of the second team. We arrived a few months ago, looking for you. Mulder was the only one there." Healer nodded knowingly. "Yes, yes he was. He was supposed to be dead, you know." He glanced at Mulder, then pointed a finger at him. "He told us you had died. But I never really believed it." Mulder could only blink back at the man. "Who told you that?" Healer looked back at Skinner. "He did. Our infamous leader. Mulder knows that. Ask him." "No." Skinner shook his head, looking like he was going to loose his patience soon. "Mulder can't remember." The old man looked confused. "Mulder was injured, two years ago. He can't remember anything." Healer stared at Mulder. "Is that true?" He could only nod at first, glancing from Healer to Skinner and back again quickly. His throat was painfully dry, and required several swallows before he could form any words. "Yes, it is. I -- I don't remember anything, any of you." He shrugged apologetically and looked to Skinner for help. Healer was shaking his head, looking down. "Nothing?" Skinner looked at Mulder as a strange silence filled the small room. After a moment, he cleared his throat and got the old man's attention again. "He was alone there, for almost two years, thinking all of you were dead." "Yes, I imagine he would think that." Healer looked up again. "Just as well you should." Frustrated, Skinner shook his head. "Listen, this is getting tiresome. We came here looking for answers. Why did you all leave the complex? If you knew we were there, why didn't you come back? Why leave Mulder behind, alone?" His voice rose with each question, making Mulder fidget nervously as his gaze darted back and forth between the two men. "Morgan led us here, so here is where we are." Healer's words echoed through Mulder's head like lightening. A face appeared in his mind, blurred and dark. He heard another voice, feminine and close. "Morgan was right. He can save us. You're insane, Mulder! You'll kill us all if we stay." The words, the face, the feelings were making his head spin. "If he is blessed with no memory, better for him." Mulder felt stunned by the flash in his mind, and Healer's words. In some eerie slow motion, he saw Skinner reach out angrily and grab the old man's arm. "Listen, I don't know what the hell's going on here --" "Walter, no!" Mulder stepped forward, fueled by an almost out-of-body sensation. "Leave him, let's go." He wanted out of here, now! "Mulder --" Skinner protested, but stood. "Please!" Mulder clutched his partner's sleeve and pulled him away from the fire. Skinner's dark eyes flashed, then he turned to stare back down at Healer. "We can talk tomorrow." Healer waved them on. Reluctantly, Skinner nodded toward the cave's entrance. He put a hand on Mulder's elbow and led them out, back to the walkway. One glance up the path confirmed the continued presence of the guards. "Please, Walter!" Mulder begged him to forget that room, at least for now. That voice in his head kept repeating, getting louder and more frightening with each minute. His heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it might burst through his chest. "All right." Somehow, through a blurred fog and the echoed voice in his head, Mulder found himself back in the room he'd woken in. He was sitting on the sleeping-pallet, staring down at the sand, wondering idly how Skinner had managed to find their way back. 'Morgan was right!' The voice was haunting him. 'You'll kill us all.' "Mulder." Skinner was right. He really wasn't ready for the truth, was he? "Mulder, don't close down on me." Numbly, he looked up. Skinner was kneeling in front of him, eye level. "Are they sane? Or am I crazy?" "No, you're not crazy." Skinner's voice was soft, but his tone urgent. "What would that say of me, huh?" "But these people ..." He knew these people. "There's something going on here. They've been ingesting that sedative for God knows how long, or why." He paused, gazing into Mulder's eyes. "We'll find the truth, Mulder." Mulder shook his head. "I don't think I want to know anymore." Before Skinner could reply, a shadow moved in the hallway, then Norton appeared, looking in at them. "I brought some fruit, and bread. I get this before they add that drug. And water." Norton held out a bundle, wrapped in dark cloth. When no one moved toward him, he set the offerings down. "You have to get me out of here, Skinner." Skinner stood, eyes blazing jet black. "Get you out of here? You're lucky I don't kill you right here!" "I wouldn't do that if I were you!" Norton held up both hands and backed up a step. "They have a very -- unique -- way of punishing crimes here." Skinner stopped a few feet from Norton, grinding his teeth together. "I'm too tired to deal with you right now. Get out of my sight till I decide what to do with you." Norton looked at Mulder, then turned and left quickly. Skinner retrieved the food and water and carried it back, sitting beside him on the pallet. "It's clean." "I'm not hungry." Mulder wanted to crawl inside himself and shut the world off. Just turn it all off. "Drink this." Skinner held out a container of water. When Mulder shook his head, he put it in his hands. "You're dehydrated. Drink!" Mulder sighed, then took a drink. His hands were shaking. After a few more swallows, Skinner let him set the cup down. "Get some rest. I'm gonna try and rig a door." Skinner rested a hand on Mulder's shoulder for a moment. "What? How?" There was no door. He watched his partner stand and walk to where their gear had been placed. "I packed those two small portable habitats, and they left them both here with us." Skinner picked up the small unit. "I think I can stack them." Mulder fuzzily remembered the shields, but ever since that night, he'd paid very little attention to the updates. "Try to rest, Mulder." Reacting was automatic. He knew there would be no sleep, not for a long time. But he made the effort, lying on the heavily padded sleeping-pallet and pulling the quilts over his shoulders. From his position, he could watch everything Skinner was doing. He set the first habitat in the doorway, then placed the second one upside down on top of it. Some fiddling with wires, and a couple changes on the control setting and he was ready. With a glance back at Mulder, he flipped the switch. In a blue flash, a wall of electricity flew up from the shield, stretching out and up. Within seconds, all but the very top of the cave entrance was sealed in sparking blue. "There." Skinner nodded in satisfaction, then walked to the other sleeping pallet and sat down, looking at Mulder. "That'll keep out any visitors." Mulder pressed his head deeper into the blankets making a pillow and stared blankly at his partner. He could feel his thoughts slowing down as he willed all memory to fade. He watched Skinner undress to his shorts, then lay down. "We'll be safe in here, Mulder. Try to rest." "I'm scared, Walter." "I know." He pulled back the blanket that covered his bed, patting the spot beside him. "I want to go home." Mulder was moving, getting up and padding over to him, then crawling in beside him. Skinner sighed, watching as the younger man curled himself into a ball, tucking himself up tight next to his friend. "I'll get us out of here, Mulder. I promise." He rolled over, throwing an arm over his erstwhile agent, tugging the still thin body back against his chest. "But I want to find out what's going on here. These people might need our help to get out too." He paused and Mulder gave him a half-hearted nod. "Listen ... whatever happened, whatever the truth is, it won't change anything that already is. It won't change you and me." Mulder shifted, turning to focus on the soft brown eyes of his friend, fighting the encroaching numbness. "What kind of friend would that make me?" It was what he needed to hear, and the look in those warm eyes confirmed it. Mulder closed his eyes for a moment, hanging on to those words. He meant to open his eyes again, but the lids were suddenly very heavy. "When you find those answers, then can we go home?" "I'll take you home, Mulder. I promise." Mulder nodded, moving his head to lie in the hollow of a strong broad shoulder. The sleep he thought he'd never find enveloped him in a soft warmth, carrying him gently into rest. *********************************************** Skinner gave up pretending he was going to get more sleep and got up, careful not to make too much noise. His senses had gone into battle mode since his first waking up in the cave. Had he been more alert in the tunnels, they might have been able to avoid being surprised in the first place. He was still kicking himself for that. But now, at least, everything was working. His internal alarm had woken him every half hour to check their makeshift door, and his mind worked overtime to map out the caverns and tunnels he'd seen already, matching them with the dead ends and the tunnels they'd yet to walk through. During 'dinner,' Skinner had been under the assumption the huge cavern was completely enclosed, but a quick glance at the right time proved that wasn't the case. The gaping mouth was actually draped with a patchwork of dark cloth, matching the color of the rock walls, giving the illusion of security. Only the fact that these people ran no machinery to speak, used neither batteries or generators, kept him from pointing that out to his partner. But did that protect this group when the creatures needed to hunt? And what about the unusual heat of the caverns? No ice, no snow. A crack in the rock that let the molten rock of the inner earth rise up and heat this place? Was that even possible? Had they actually found a habitable area safe from the creatures? But what of the people themselves? So far he hadn't didn't think there was a sane one among them. Or at least, not one who was willing to provide them with straight, simple answers. They acted as if they expected visitors, or as if they'd expected them. There was no surprise from them at seeing Mulder, aside from the few who had thought he was dead. Yet none of them seemed willing to explain why. And where the hell had *children* come from? Babies, he could understand. But these were half-grown children! And there were a lot of them. Skinner sighed and rubbed his face, then pushed the blankets off his legs and swung them off the pallet. After putting his clothes back on, he walked quietly back to check his partner. Mulder was still asleep, but even in rest he looked tired. Skinner gently laid a hand on the younger man's forehead. It was slightly warm, probably from stress more than anything. All that talk about being ready for the truth had been for Skinner's benefit. He knew full well the man wasn't ready, not for this. Hell, he wasn't ready for this! Whatever *this* really turned out to be. He pulled the covering up farther over his partner's shoulder, then walked to where their gear had been placed. Thankfully, with the exception of his only weapon, they'd been allowed to keep everything else they were carrying. After breakfasting on half of the leftover safe food, Skinner tried to scan their immediate area for others. He couldn't get readings out of their small cave, probably due to the energy the habitats were emitting, but until Mulder was awake he was reluctant to turn off the barricade. They still had a small fire warming the cave from a center pit, and on closer inspection he realized it wasn't burning wood, but rather several lumps of something he didn't recognize. There was no odor, and it seemed to burn continuously without altering strength. He'd noticed in several of the cave-rooms they passed the evening before a number of people had cooking implements set up over their fires, and one or two had been cooking. So the rooms acted as homes, with a central gathering place for those who felt so inclined. Which meant the number he'd counted at dinner weren't all of the people here. Which raised the question: where did these other people come from? Another inspection of their room revealed a nearly hidden section, behind more of the brown cloth used as curtains. It hid an area obviously used as a washroom of sorts, with a basin that could hold water and a separate one on a stool-like contraption for wastes. Quite an interesting setup, but a far cry from the shower he craved. Skinner sat back on the empty sleeping-pallet and pulled the statue from a pocket. He'd counted himself lucky in finding that first, when he woke from the blow to the head. It had been set on the rocks along with all of their other belongings, where Mulder could have found it before him. He turned the gray piece over and over, letting the metal shimmer in the orange firelight, and sighed heavily. Finding the statues in the graveyard had been a shock, but he'd meant admit he'd taken one to Mulder that evening. But he hadn't, and the proper timing escaped him. Now he was torn. If he brought it up now, it might just add to the man's confusion. And he'd have to confess having found it earlier. No one he'd seen so far had one, or even anything similar. In fact, now that he thought about it ... he hadn't seen any evidence of this metal in use by anyone there. No cooking utensils, no jewelry. Nothing. Mulder stirred, so Skinner quickly pocketed the statue and got up, walking to his partner's side as the younger man sat up. "I can't believe I slept." Mulder blinked heavily and pulled himself to a sitting position. He ran a hand through his hair and shot a glance at their protected doorway. "You were exhausted, Mulder." At least he'd been able to afford his friend enough security to allow himself to sleep. That said more than a lot of things for Skinner right now. "I found a bathroom, believe it or not. You have to walk right up to it before you can see the thing; it's in a crevice. And," he held out some of the water Norton had brought, and pointed at the fruit and bread. "These are safe, so have some breakfast." Mulder nodded reluctantly and pulled his legs up, sitting cross-legged on the bed while Skinner remained seated on the edge. He picked up a piece of fruit and fingered it, staring down at his hands. "Do you think we're going to find out what happened from these people?" Skinner inhaled slowly, lining up his thoughts. "Well, we've already learned a lot. We know this is where the group you were put with went, and this is where they've been all this time. It's no wonder we didn't find any sign of them earlier. But there are too many people here for just that group. And children! Why are there children?" He glanced around the cave. "We know they found a way to protect themselves from those creatures; we just don't know exactly what brought them here in the first place." "Maybe they figured out those things only attacked the station?" Mulder offered. "I mean, what if that's it? What if they only attacked there because it was such a foreign thing?" "But they attacked the trackers, and us." "The trackers are foreign too, so were the 'cats." Mulder shrugged. "Maybe caves were the answer all along." "I'm not so sure it's that simple. They were attacking the people, after all, not the buildings." Mulder nodded, then ate some of the fruit. "We know they left you behind thinking you were dead, and maybe that's the only reason. Whatever accident gave you that memory loss and head injury, they may have assumed was fatal. Although that doesn't excuse them from finding out for sure." "Why would they leave, though? If the caves aren't safer than the station, why leave the only safe haven they had?" Skinner sighed, contemplating the question. "There had to have been something at the station that frightened them more than the creatures." "But there wasn't anything there, besides me." "Stop that." Skinner gave his friend a stern look. "I don't care what happened, or what they think happened, nothing can be so bad that a large group of people would leave their only security because of one man." He continued the look until Mulder nodded. "Thinking like that isn't going to help either of us. There has to have been something else, something they were more afraid to stay with than be without." Mulder shook his head. "I've been wondering that for two years, and I can't figure it out." "Has to be something else." Skinner shook his head then patted Mulder's knee and nodded toward the curtained room. "There's some water in there. Get yourself cleaned up and we'll see if we can find some answers today." Mulder nodded and moved out from under the bed covers, then found the makeshift washroom. "Is this natural, do you think?" "The caves? I'm not sure." Skinner glanced at the walls around them. There were marks here and there, but nothing like he'd seen before. "I don't remember seeing any heavy duty boring machines on either group's manifest. At least, not the kind they'd need to hollow out this much rock." He reached out and touched the smooth stone. "They could have just gotten incredibly lucky, considering the layout here. Maybe this was a few odd groupings that were joined together by just knocking out a wall or two here and there. But it's the heat that really has me puzzled. Why the hell is it so damned warm in here?" While his partner washed up, he decided it was time to turn off their "door" before the battery was too drained of power to use again. After the dancing blue arcs vanished, he checked the charge. It was down by ten percent. Mulder came out from behind the curtain still drying his face on a small cloth. He hesitated a moment when he noticed the open door, then continued back to sit on his sleeping pallet. "This thing held up better than I expected." Skinner returned the two units to the rock with the rest of their belongings and picked up the thermal scanner again. "Is there any way we can put it back up while we're gone?" Mulder nodded toward their gear. "No, not without leaving the unit outside the door, so we could turn it off. I don't think anyone's going to steal this stuff, Mulder. They had plenty of opportunity when they brought us in here." Skinner aimed the scanner out the door, but got few readings beyond the entrance. "Damn. I thought the shield was the problem." Mulder stood and walked over to look at the display. "That's the same thing it was doing in the tunnel." He shrugged and pulled damp hair from his face, twisting it into a temporary ponytail that began to untwist almost immediately. "I think it's the heat." Skinner looked back at the scanner, then creased both eyebrows. "The heat? It should pick up heat." "Yeah. But isn't it calibrated to low temp base, looking for anything higher than that base? It's way higher than the base in here. It's not that it's not picking up anything -- it's picking up everything." "Well, let's go meet this Morgan person. Maybe he can give us an answer." The look that flashed through his friend's eyes didn't go unnoticed. Nor did Mulder's sudden hesitation. "What is it?" "I don't ..." Mulder's gaze fell to the floor. "Are you remembering something?" Skinner stepped closer, trying to get his friend to look up. When he did, he shook his head and ran a hand over his dark hair. "No, not really." "What do you mean, not really? Is there something you want to talk about, Mulder?" "No, there's nothing there." Mulder shook his head, perhaps a little too quickly. "I keep thinking I should suddenly remember something about them." His nod included everything outside their small room. "I knew them, after all. Seeing them again should have sparked something, shouldn't it?" Skinner inhaled slowly, considering his reply. "You knew me, too, and you don't remember. I had thought seeing these people might bring something back, since you were with them more recently. And it still could, in time." He paused, knowing nothing he could say was going to make the younger man happy, either way. "To be honest, Mulder, I have no idea." Mulder nodded, accepting the answer. "Listen, if you do remember anything, even if you don't understand it, you can tell me. Right?" "Yeah, I will." Skinner held his partner's gaze for a moment, then nodded toward the corridor. "OK, come on." He led the way out and turned left, mentally reviewing his own memory of the maze of tunnels and connections. Almost immediately after leaving the security of their small room, he felt Mulder's hand clutch the same spot on his side, holding his shirt just above the waistband of his pants. If this was going to be a habit, maybe he should sew in some kind of handle? It was security, he knew, and it served both of them the same. Knowing Mulder was using him as a physical shield against the strangers and the fear they represented made Skinner feel all the more protective of him. It was like having a timid parrot on his shoulder. One he had to guard against theft. The path up to the top level where he'd found the guards was relatively easy to traverse. A slow but steady incline, three switchbacks, and one short tunnel that gave the impression of backtracking several yards before opening back up. They passed Healer's hallway without incident this time, and found the entrance to the leader's lair unguarded. Skinner paused, looking back at his partner. "You OK?" Mulder replied with a quick nod and a flex of clenched jaw muscles. Not very reassuring. "Just relax. Nothing's going to happen while I'm around, Mulder." "Just don't leave me alone with these people." "Not a chance." Skinner stepped forward and parted the curtain draping over the cave's entrance, holding it for Mulder as well. The two men stepped into a large, almost perfectly rounded room. The high ceiling was draped in more curtains, hanging down in billowing cascades of color. They were a far cry from the drab, dirt-brown of the curtains and blankets seen around the rest of the cavern. In fact, the entire room seemed draped, pillowed and swathed in color. There were furnishings strewn about in various groupings, some made from metal, some fashioned out of stone, and many simply piles of cushions and pillows strategically placed. The center of the room held a large, ornate table several feet from the ground, with overly stuffed and heavily decorated pillows set about for seating. Candles lined the walls, while several small to medium sized fires, burning the same strange material, lit and heated the space. Skinner took everything in instantly as he quickly scanned the room for its occupant. Almost the same instant he saw the movement behind a purple curtain, he felt tension in the hand holding his shirt. "Greetings." The purple curtain parted in billowing puffs, discharging a man dressed in white robes adorned with blue and purple sashes. "I was about to send for you." A hand extended, then waved toward the center of the room, inviting the visitors to enter. "We should have spoken last night, but I had business to attend to. Please, do come in." The smile that filled a face not much older than Mulder's served only to light perfectly whitened teeth. Skinner stepped forward three paces, keenly aware of the scrutiny the robed man was training on Mulder. This was the enemy. It was written all over his face, and shining in the clear blue eyes. It was war all over again, only much more subtle than the crude slash-and-burn of Viet Nam, or the assault weapon street battles of the drug wars. He could feel it in his blood, in the instincts that raised the hairs on the back of his neck as he watched their 'host' approach. Something deep inside Skinner tingled with anticipation as the old familiar feelings came rushing back. He almost had to fight back a smile. In one instant, the two men had sized each other up, and no doubt this man already felt himself the victor. That would be his first mistake. The man paused near a small table that held a pitcher and several stone cups. "Can I offer you a drink? Have you had breakfast yet? There's usually always something being cooked down below." "No, thank you." Skinner eyed the man calmly, waiting for the game to play out. "Ah, where are my manners? My name is Jeffrey --" "Morgan." Both men turned to look at Mulder. Skinner kept silent and made certain there was nothing of surprise showing on his face as he calmly turned back to face the robed man. Morgan was the senior military man on the first team. "But I just go by Morgan," Morgan finished, nodding at Skinner. "Like our friend here." He turned again toward Mulder. "I'm surprised. Your expatriate, McMurray, told me you had lost all memory of life before the accident." Mulder didn't reply. "It's true," Skinner offered. "When we arrived, Mulder had no memory of the group, or where you had gone." He glanced around the room, then let his gaze fall coldly back on its owner. "Obviously, you had all come here." Morgan smiled and dipped his head slightly. "I can see where there could be some confusion. Of course, everyone assumed Mulder was dead." He raised a hand to his chest. "I must take some of the blame there, admittedly." He turned to face Skinner, ignoring Mulder completely now. "You see, after the accident, I was the one who took Mulder to the medical bay. By all accounts, I assure you, he was dead." "Why did you leave?!" Mulder's shout startled Morgan, but it was the look in his eyes that caught Skinner off guard. His partner had taken a half-step forward, bringing him even beside Skinner. His posture was nothing short of defiance, but there was pure rage in his eyes. Skinner schooled his own features into a calm mask to support this sudden turn of events. "To save our people!" Morgan's shout was held in check, and he quickly changed his tone. "You really don't remember, do you?" Mulder had no reply, so Skinner cleared his throat. "Look, I'm sure we could go on like this for days, but we didn't come here to play guessing games." "Then why did you come?" Morgan's robes swirled around him as he turned and stepped again to the small table, pouring himself a drink. "We didn't ask for any help. We can do our job just fine." "My name is Skinner. Assistant Director Walter Skinner, of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Mulder is my agent." Skinner kept an eye on Morgan as the man walked slowly around the table. Mulder stood motionless beside him, doing the same. "I joined a group coming down here to ostensibly shut down the station, gather the research, and bring Mulder back. Our pilot was killed and we're stranded here now, until the sun comes up again." He didn't add that he was sure that had been the plan all along. "You're far too late." Morgan waved a hand around the room. "There is no research. Only this humble group of workers, performing a necessary task for the survival of the species." Skinner's jaw clenched in frustration, but he forced it to relax. Playing this man's game was one thing, but falling into any of his traps was another. "You were trained scientists." Morgan set his cup down, then motioned for them to step closer to the curtained wall. "Trained scientists may have come here two years ago, Mr. Skinner." He reached up and pulled a long cord, parting the curtain when Skinner and Mulder approached. "But a skilled survivalist kept them alive." The parting of the curtain startled Mulder, who took a step closer to Skinner. An alcove was hidden there, and one of the skins hung there, in a parody of life, the body stuffed and the claws extended. He turned quickly, grabbing Mulder and pulling his head into his shoulder, blocking the gruesome view. "A survivalist who knows how to keep people alive, and how to kill." "You didn't kill it." Mulder's voice was muffled, and Skinner could feel his thin frame shake, even as he struggled to speak. "What?" Morgan roared furiously, and Skinner felt Mulder blanche, but he held his ground. Pulling out of the older man's grasp, he slowly faced Morgan on trembling legs. "You. Did. Not. Kill. It." The two men stared at one another for a long moment, then Morgan shrugged and averted his eyes. "I'm not so sure your memory is as gone as I've been told, *Fox.*" Skinner watched the silent stand-off, then turned to face Morgan again. "You still haven't answered the question. Why did you leave the complex?" "It's not that simple, Sir." Morgan backed away two steps, then turned and moved to the center of the room before turning back again. "Life is very complicated. And life here, doubly so. Before I can begin to explain something you may never understand, you need to have more information." "I'm not getting much information at all yet." Skinner could feel his tension level increasing, partly due to the stress he could see building on his friend's face as they struggled to play Morgan' game. "Then let me help you." Morgan again extended his arm, this time toward the doorway. "I'll give you the grand tour, let you see how we live here, what we do. Perhaps then, the other answers will make more sense to you?" "Let's hope so." Skinner glanced at Mulder. His partner was glaring at their host with pure hatred, but his posture suggested the young man who was afraid of strangers. Skinner wanted to just fold him up, stuff him in a pocket, and pull him back out again after he'd found all the answers and made it all better. But he couldn't. *************************************** They followed Morgan back out to the walkway, then through the maze of tunnels and switchbacks that led to the main cavern below. There were fewer looks sent their way this time, as most of the inhabitants were busily rushing about in purposeful activity. The huge cloth that had covered the back of the cavern was pulled back and tied with large ropes, showing an opening into a tunnel and in the distance, they could even see stars. Beside Skinner, Mulder froze, clutching his arm. "I know." Skinner glanced at his friend, then moved his arm around Mulder's shoulders, gently getting him back in motion. "It's OK, we're fine." Of course now he knew that during the night that wall had been an illusion. Maybe that was how it was done? Illusion, smoke and mirrors? It fit in with the theme here. "How do you keep yourselves safe, when the creatures roam?" Morgan smiled up at the curtain, then shot Skinner a quick glance. "You'll soon learn we are safe here, Mr. Skinner. Colonel McMurray told me you're aware of the earth's new predator -- or at least the South Pole's." "People died again. You could have prevented that if you were there." Mulder's voice was low but easily heard by the two men as they all exited the open cavern mouth. "You were there," Morgan's reply was barely civil. "Oh, but you forgot *them* too, didn't you?" Skinner had just decided pummeling the answers out of this man might be the easier way to get things done, when he saw the two guards from the previous night approach, weapons strapped to their belts. Without a word from their leader, the two men fell into step behind the trio as they continued out of the cave. "As you can see, these caves provide the perfect shelter. We have mild climates down here in the bowl; the cold is no longer an issue." Morgan led them on a gentle path around various structures and caverns where workers scurried about grinding, baking, steaming and soaking all manner of things. "We have tradesmen, now, and skilled craftsmen. It helps to occupy the time when we are not working on the project." Morgan's voice was full of pride, but couched with conceit as he continued the tour. Skinner did his best to hold on to what little patience he still had, and kept a close eye on his partner, as well as their guards. He recognized one of them as part of the team who had knocked them both out in the tunnels, and they no doubt were along for the tour to maintain their leader's safety. The only thing more dangerous than a madman was the man protecting one. The air was warm and deceptively comforting, and through the now open 'wall' he could see the mountain range seemed larger than he'd expected, with the bowl set much lower. A glance back in the direction they'd come revealed the caverns behind them. They moved toward the opening into the valley and then stepped out. Out onto the face of Antarctica clad only in shirtsleeves and jeans. The cliff face they resided on was nearly straight for several yards, then began craggily jutting up and out, stretching completely up to where the snow layer began again -- far above. Skinner quickly scanned the area, barely listening to their tour guide. He was looking for their tunnel and a way out. He'd assumed the tunnel he and Mulder had found came out into the caverns somewhere, but during their exploration so far, he'd seen no evidence of it. Obviously guarded for some reason, he would expect to find it blocked or barricaded in some way if the goal was to keep the occupants inside. If they wished to prevent visitors, the entrance should have been concealed or closed. It occurred to him then that the tunnel could be anywhere. He had no way of knowing just how long he and Mulder were unconscious. A blow to the head could put a man down for ten seconds, or ten hours, depending on the strength and skill of the one who administered it. Their tunnel out of this place could be anywhere. "As you can see, we live very well and comfortably here. And safely. We've successfully colonized the Pole, and have a thriving community." Morgan ended the tour on the top of a slight rise, affording a view of the valley stretching out below them. "Why didn't you move the complex here, then? If this bowl is as safe as you say?" Skinner glanced around the area, but he couldn't see any of the other mountain foot-holds from where they were, let alone any sign of a tunnel or cave. "The complex has nothing we needed. We took what we wanted, and left the rest." "There's equipment there, tools. Items you could have used to build safer dwellings, vehicles. Scientific equipment." Morgan shook his head, smiling slightly. "We took what we wanted. You forget, we have work to do. The project. And many of our people did die, you know." Morgan's eyes flashed darkly, but he held Skinner's gaze, never once looking at Mulder. "Our scientists, our technicians, all dead. The first attack came a scant week after our landing. Our leader ..." This time his gaze did shoot to Mulder for an instant. " ... was killed in that first attack, along with our other three top experts. They were the only ones who really knew what the project was all about. I was military. A mere security force." He shrugged. "After the first deaths, it was a crap shoot. Every few weeks, more deaths." "But there are more people here -- many more than were on the original team." "Yes." Morgan smiled, but didn't offer to explain. "And children. I've seen children. Too old to have been born in the last two years." "Yes, we care for the children, too." Again, that queer smile that spoke of things still hidden, words still unspoken. "Some of your scientists survived, I've seen them." "Yes. Healer is our oldest. He was our head physician." Morgan's jaw clenched for a moment and he turned to gaze out over the landscape. "You can imagine what life here did to advance his career. He's our Healer now, poor man. What's left of him. He teaches the children the rules, and everything else they need to know." He turned back to face them. "He'll teach you our rules. And tell you anything else you might want to know, eventually." "Eventually? You mean like you are?" Skinner felt the frustration enter his voice, and he let it show this time. "All in good time, Skinner. As I said, you'll need all of the facts, in order to truly understand." Morgan motioned to the guards. "These two can show you where Healer is, if you can't find the way back." "I think we can find what we need." Skinner tilted his head and managed just enough height over Morgan to give the impression of looking down. It had the desired effect, sending a flash of anger through the man's eyes. An instant later, he adjusted his own posture but failed to match Skinner's. "We'll just look around, if you don't mind." "Of course, help yourselves." Morgan's smile was accompanied by a nod of his head. "Once you see how we live, you'll understand why you'll have to stay." Before Skinner could reply, Morgan turned in a swirl of robes and walked away, immediately flanked by his guards. "Walter --" "Don't worry, Mulder. We're not staying any longer than we have to." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and turned to face him. "I know this isn't easy. I'd like to punch this jerk myself, but we're into something deep here. I don't expect you to understand it all, but we have to be very careful." Mulder was looking up, matching Skinner's gaze. "We're prisoners here, aren't we? Everyone is." "I think so. He definitely rules by dominance, and if he isn't doping these people with that drug to keep them compliant, then they must be doing it to help themselves cope." He glanced around quickly, trying to find some of the workers. "I'd like to watch the food prep, see if the drug is being added during or after cooking." "Norton said he found food, didn't he?" "Yes, and it was clean. And water. There's a spring of some kind under that mountain, providing the water we can hear down below. Running water in Antarctica." He shook his head in disbelief. "What the hell is going on here?" He looked back down at Mulder. "Listen, we're safe enough here as long as we can keep ourselves from eating anything they cook, and don't break any of their rules. Whatever they are. And however they've done it, they seem to be safe from the creatures here. We will be too, if they are." "I don't want to be safe here, Walter. I want to get out of here!" "I know, I know. We will. But until we can figure this all out, we might not be able to go home." He paused, taking a deep breath. None of this was helping the other man, he knew. "I don't know where the tunnel is that we came in through. We could be miles away from it, or it could be right inside that cavern somewhere. Obviously they guard the thing, unless it was a fluke that got us caught. If it was as easy as walking out, Norton could have left." "So we're trapped?" Skinner shook his head. "Not trapped. You're never trapped as long as a way out exists. And we have two ways out of here. The tunnel when we're ready, or a rescue from the others when we're late getting back. Either way, we'll get home." "What about them?" Mulder nodded toward a small group working in a cave nearby. Something must have clicked, if he was considering other people now. "We'll have to see what's going on first. If they want out, we'll get them out." "But what if the others want in? Skinner, what if this place is safe? The others should move here if it is." "We'll see." He turned and began walking back toward the caverns. "Let's go back and eat. Then I want to explore this area. If we can't scan inside the caves, maybe we can map out this valley." When they returned to the caverns, Skinner had no trouble retracing their route back to the room they were housed in. He wanted to ask Mulder if he'd managed to memorize the layout yet, but that might imply he'd have to navigate the cavern alone at some point. Skinner knew the young man wasn't ready to entertain that idea yet, so he let it go. Mulder retrieved the sonar and thermal scanners and slipped them into his back while Skinner found their water bottles, now empty, and slid each one into a pocket. When he turned to leave, they found a young woman standing in the doorway, smiling at them, with bundles of cloth in both hands. "You'll need these soon." She held out the offering and her smile widened when Skinner accepted it. "Fresh clothes. We have a laundry below -- we call it the cellar -- where the heat leaks up." "Thank you." "Have they shown you the baths yet? They're down there, too." Her gaze flicked to Mulder, then returned to Skinner. "When you want your clothes done, you just leave them down there. They take turns, mostly the children." "We will, thank you." Skinner set the clothes on his sleeping-pallet with another nod of gratitude. "No one will steal them. No one steals anything here. It's the law." "What's your name?" Mulder's question drew a blinking stare from the girl, as if she'd forgotten the other man was there. "Oh, I'm Rita." She smiled again, having regained her composure. "I knew you once." With that, the girl turned and vanished down the corridor. "Everyone knew me once." Mulder ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. Skinner had watched the short exchange from the back of their cave. He glanced down at the bundle Rita brought them and fingered the soft, pale cream-colored cloth. Where did it come from? Another mystery. "She was one of the seismology techs, I think." "No, I don't remember her." Mulder turned, answering a question that hadn't been asked. His eyes were ablaze with frustrated anger, but cooled instantly. "I don't know, maybe I will later. I just --" "It's a lot all at once," Skinner supplied. "Let's go look around." He put a hand on Mulder's back to guide him through the door, and felt the minute shift in the younger man's body as he unconsciously leaned into touch. He still wore the FBI sweatshirt, the emblem on the back was ever so slightly faded, but the name on the front still read clear. Skinner was glad his friend he'd chosen that shirt before they left on their tunnel excursion. It had kept him warm since these people had removed their parkas, probably helping to stave off the serious shock Skinner had seen so often in other victims. And -- he willingly admitted -- considering the circumstances they were in, he liked having his name emblazoned across his partner's shirt. These people didn't care about Mulder. He did. *********************************************** The cellar Rita spoke of was directly below the main cavern, down a steep walkway with steps carved out of the stone. It led around in a semi-circle until it reached the bottom, depositing the two men on the far side of a steam-filled cave. Skinner had to constantly remind himself of where they really were. It was like being in another world, light years from the frozen wasteland that was the smallest continent. Lit by only candles, fires and lamps, all fueled by the same still unknown substance, this level stretched on deeper than the cavern above, with a much lower ceiling. In the center of the room was a bubbling hot spring, glowing green and blue from some kind of fungal mineral growth clinging to its sides. Snaking out in three directions from the main pool were several man-made channels leading to other pools, which in turn fed others in patterns around the entire cave. Three of the smallest pools were being used to launder various cloth items, while another was soaking and steaming cooking pots. Skinner wandered around the room with Mulder close at hand, inspecting the setup. It was well done; spreading the heat out from the central pool effectively heated the floor of the room above them. Farther in the back, two rooms were separated by large, heavy curtains. Outside the rooms were carved the universal symbols, identifying them as men's and women's showers. That was a blessing, if they were going to be here much longer. Not exactly the private shower he preferred back home, but he wasn't going to complain too much. The shower used steam from the heated water to force it up through a tube, then rained it down over the occupants of the large, smoothly carved room. Lamps around the walls defied the spray of water and burned brightly through the steam. Mulder wasn't too impressed, but the curtain did allow for privacy, and it appeared as if that time of day was a good time to be down here, since they hadn't found anyone yet. Towels were folded and lined the walls outside both rooms, with a pile near the far corner for wet ones to be deposited. It took a little convincing, but Skinner was beginning to feel the need for a fresh change of clothes and a good, hot shower. They returned to their room and retrieved the clothes Rita had brought. Skinner emptied his pockets and placed the silver statuette carefully under the blankets of his sleeping-pallet, then they went back down to the still-deserted basement and got cleaned up. Mulder was reluctant to trade in his shirt for the new one after their showers. "She said no one steals here, Mulder. So far, we haven't had anything taken." After some consideration, Mulder set his sweatshirt down with the other clothes in need of washing, and pulled the new shirt over his head. The scars on his side were visible even in the dim light of the cave. They were barely healed, so hadn't faded at all, but the shirt covered them well. In fact, it was quite long. Pale cream cloth, as soft as cotton, fell nearly to his knees, contrasting the dark brown of the pants. The color and size made Mulder look smaller somehow, swallowed up in the clothing. But it suited him, too, with his dark coloring and the long hair that still fell haphazardly to his shoulders. "What now?" He looked up, having reluctantly accepted how the new clothes looked. Skinner finished pulling his own new shirt down and tossed his other one to the pile. "I want to find Healer. He's supposed to tell us the laws here; maybe we can get something out of him today." He smoothed down the shirt, surprised the clothes fit so well. The shirt was loose enough not to be binding, and surprisingly warm for its lightness. He wondered briefly what it would look like with a handle sewn into the side. Mulder had only been clinging to him when they were near other people, but inside the caves that was almost constantly. The climb back up to the level Healer's room was one that afforded them several glimpses of the main cavern, with its huge curtain pulled back. Mulder made it a point not to look, and switched sides so that Skinner was between him and the view. How they managed to secure this cavern during the creatures' feeding was still one of many mysteries he intended to solve. It was possible that the height of the mountains and the fact that they were inside a bowl as secure as any ancient castle might be what was keeping the monsters from finding a way inside. But that didn't seem likely. If the creatures were indeed cave dwellers themselves, it stood to reason at some point they would have found a way inside this area through the same, or other, tunnels as he and Mulder had. Simply camouflaging the openings shouldn't work against animals with the level of intelligence he'd seen displayed. Skinner was sure they had shown signs of politeness and society that night he and his partner had spent trapped under the shield. But what of these caves? Animals who needed the dark of night, must surely live in caves or underground. The burial site was inside a cave much like this one, and relatively close by, providing they were still near the same mountain they'd entered yesterday morning. The burial cave alone led to even more mysteries as yet unsolved, including Mulder's strange behavior. Skinner sighed. There were too many fragments demanding answers, and each time he sought out the truth, instead of uncovering fact he was running into more shadowy brick walls. He had to try and clear his mind, and open it to what he could find. Maybe it really would clear itself up when he'd seen more? Maybe the answers were right here in front of him, and he was trying too hard to see them? Maybe I should just find McMurray and haul his ass back to the station, and to hell with the rest of them. "Ah, they said you'd be coming soon." Healer startled Skinner out of his thoughts when he stepped into the corridor. "You'll join me for the evening meal. I was bringing in fresh water, for cooking." The old man waved with one free hand, motioning them to enter his short hallway. In the other hand he held a large pitcher, sloshing water over the lip when he moved. "I don't think --" "No, no, nothing to fear," Healer interrupted, holding back the curtain so they could enter his room. "We're eating fresh tonight. I'm supposed to instruct you. I need a clear head when I instruct newcomers." So they knew they were eating a drug with their food. Skinner nodded for Mulder to enter the room, then followed. "Why don't you want a clear head all the time?" Healer brought the water to his main fire and poured some into a large pot hanging over the flames. Inside the pot, large chunks of vegetables and a dark meat were stewing. "I like to eat in my room. Some days the crowd downstairs is nice, but I'm the Healer. They never let me sit in peace. Too many questions." And apparently very few answers. "Please, sit. I have wine." Healer pointed to the large pillows near the fire, then stood and retrieved a small container and three metal cups from a shelf. Skinner walked to the pillows but remained standing, accepting the cup of dark red wine. He sniffed it carefully, then decided not to risk it. He watched Healer turn to Mulder and saw a strange look of hopeful pleading cross the man's face before he held out the cup. Mulder shook his head once, and Healer's face flashed some disappointment before he turned back and set the container and unwanted cup on a small table nearby. "Please, make yourself at home." The offer was directed at Mulder, then Healer turned to Skinner and sat down, facing him. "We'll be alone here. No one comes up when I'm teaching, not even Morgan." Skinner sat, setting his cup on the ground beside him. Mulder again declined to sit at Healer's fire, and instead began to look around the room. "How long has Morgan been your leader?" "Our leader?" Healer's gaze became vacant for an instant. "Since we came, I suppose." "Came? Here, to the caves?" Skinner glanced up when Mulder moved away and started walking toward the back of the cave. Healer's room was filled with all manner of things, some crudely fashioned out of raw, natural materials, others obviously machine made, obviously from his former home to the station. Mulder began examining the contents of one shelf. "Yes, here. It feels like forever, but it hasn't been." Healer shrugged and stirred the pot. "How many forevers can there be?" He glanced up at Mulder. "Please, feel free to touch anything you like." He turned back to Skinner. "I'd like him to feel comfortable here. Do you think he ever could?" Skinner studied Healer for a moment. The hopeful look was on his face again, and there was regret in his watery blue eyes. A strong feeling of pity filled Skinner as he looked at the man who had once been a trained physician, a man of high education and skill. How had that person become the erratic, evasive man sitting there now? Could insanity be an after-effect of life in the Polar South, and not a result of ingesting the sedative overly much? But Mulder ... "I don't know." He wanted to berate this man for the actions of his group, but he decided against it. For whatever reason, he was beginning to feel sorry for Healer, as well. "That might depend on what you can tell us." Healer nodded slowly, again stirring his pot of stew. "The laws are simple here. I'll tell you them first. While we eat." He filled three large bowls with the stew, then brought out a plate of breads and cheese. Mulder returned to Skinner's side and without a word took the piece of bread and bowl of stew that Skinner handed him. Healer nodded in approval. "All crimes here are punished by death, which is one reason we have no crime." Healer offered both men cups of water with their meal, and Mulder sat for the first time, next to Skinner, while Healer remained on the opposite side of the fire. "Isn't that harsh?" Skinner sniffed at the stew, recognizing it as a beefy vegetable. "Yes, and it works. Theft, murder, fighting, even accusing another of a crime with no proof, all are punished by death. We haven't had a crime here since ... well, the new man, one of the others, he did break our law." "New man?" "Yes, he came with the rest. I never did learn all their names." He smiled apologetically. "Norton? McMurray?" Healer nodded. "Those two I know. I taught them the laws. But the other man wasn't here long enough." "What did he do?" Skinner recalled Norton's plea the night before to be rescued from this place. "He tried to enter the tunnel." Healer shrugged. "The tunnel is forbidden." Skinner felt Mulder tense up beside him, so he tried to remain casual. "The tunnel leading into this place? Why is it forbidden?" "The tunnel leading out," Healer corrected. "It's forbidden, that's all. The tunnel and the outside are too dangerous. You can't survive out there. It's cold and dark, and the cre -- the creat -- when they grow hungry, and it's dark, they ... you cannot survive out there." He shook his head once with finality. "No, the tunnels are forbidden." "I have." Mulder set his bowl down and stared at Healer. "I've lived out there for two years. Alone. By myself. With no one. And now he's here. And the others who came with him. They live out there." Healer shook his head. "I would expect you to live. I would expect nothing less." He reached into the pot for more stew and filled his bowl. "The tunnels are forbidden." Mulder shook his head and stood again, resuming his exploration of the room's contents. "He's brilliant, you know." Skinner turned back to Healer. "Yes, I do. But how do you know?" Healer's face broke into a wide smile, full of pride. "I was on the team, the testing team. Amazing man, simply amazing." He shook his head sadly and his smile faded. "But they took it all from him." Mulder hadn't even turned around at the mention of his brilliance. He continued to examine the odds and ends in Healer's room, occasionally picking up an object for closer, intense study. "How do you keep safe here? Don't the creatures come into the tunnels?" "We're safe here." Skinner leaned forward, trying to keep himself in a conversational tone. "But how? How are you safe here, with no doors or wall to cover the entrance?" "We've studied them. For years, we studied the animals." Healer took a swallow of his wine and gazed into the fire. "We're scientists, after all. They're just animals, like any other. It took time, but we studied them and learned. Now, we're safe." "What did you learn? We would be very interested in what you know about the animals. The group I am with has scientists, too." Healer pursed his lips in thought. "Do you think they'd like to learn, too? I could teach them, it's what I do now." "Yes, they would. You could come back with us, and teach them what you've learned." "I'd like that." Healer looked up at Skinner, then his eyebrows creased. "But, the tunnels are forbidden. Your people would have to come here." "What if the tunnels weren't forbidden? Would you leave, come back with us?" The man's eyes sparkled for a moment and he glanced up at Mulder, then back to Skinner. "But, they are forbidden. And the station is dangerous; it's why we left. This is the only safe place." Skinner shook his head. He felt like he was handling a piece of fragile glass, and he was keenly aware of what this place was doing to the eggshell walking around the room. Sharon would never have believed him capable of this kind of careful juggling. "Mulder has always lived at the station, and we live there now with the new group. We're perfectly safe. But we'd like to learn what you know about the creatures, and about this place. The others would very much like to meet you." "I'd like that." Healer shot a look around the room, locating Mulder who was at the far corner, closely examining an oddly shaped box. He turned quickly back to Skinner and leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Does he truly remember nothing?" Skinner's jaw clenched and he had to force it to relax. "No, nothing. Not yet, anyway." "Then take him away from here!" Healer's voice was an urgent whisper, but he couldn't see Mulder approaching them from behind. "Take him away before he can remember!" "Why?" Healer was startled to his feet, and Skinner followed suit, eyeing his partner. "Why take me away before I can remember?" Mulder's eyes were flashing with anger, and Healer backed up a step, moving closer to Skinner. "Why won't you tell me what made you leave?" "Mulder, take it easy." The man couldn't see how mentally fragile the old man was, probably because he was close to breaking, himself. Healer straightened up slightly, regaining some composure. "The universe rarely grants second chances." His voice was calm again, all sense of urgency gone. "What is it the children say when they're playing a game? Do-over. Yes, they call it a do-over." He shook his head. "The universe doesn't grant do-overs often, Mulder. Your memory loss is a blessing! Our inability to forget is our curse." He turned suddenly and put a hand on Skinner's arm. "Make him understand. You're his soul; you can make him understand." "Understand what?" Skinner found himself looking down into terrified eyes, as Healer glanced from him to Mulder and back again. "Leave this place if you can. Keep him the way he is, and make him understand it was never his fault!" Healer released Skinner's arm and moved away from both men. "It was never your fault. That's all you need to remember." He waved toward the door. "Leave me now! We can talk another time, if you're still here." Mulder took a step forward, then stopped, staring at Skinner. "Leave me now!" Healer shouted at them both, then quickly walked to the back of his room. ********************** Iced 11/15 "Come on, Mulder." Skinner sighed heavily and took Mulder by the arm, guiding him out of Healer's cave. "What did he mean?" "I don't know." He continued down the short tunnel to the main walkway and glanced up toward Morgan's entrance. The guards were again in place, and armed, so they continued back the way they'd come. "He's mad, Mulder. I thought we were going to get some clarity for a minute, but he could be too far gone." They returned to their room and found a huge, brown cloth curtain hanging from the outside as a makeshift door. Inside, someone had delivered several bundles containing more blankets, cooking utensils, a large, heavy pot and a frame to hang it over the fire, bowls and cups, and their cleaned, folded clothes. "Someone wants us to feel at home." Skinner inspected the curtain. "This hangs outside. At least we can put the shield up on the inside, and no one will see it." Mulder walked straight to his sleeping pallet and sat down. "I don't understand this place, or these people. Why can't they just explain it?" "I know, it's not easy." Skinner investigated the other new items in the room. "If Morgan isn't forcing them, they at least understand the effects of that drug, and for some reason willingly take it." "Why?" "I don't know." Skinner sat on the pallet and shook his head, looking at his partner. "Perhaps the drug is somehow connected to why the creatures don't come here." Mulder had pulled himself up completely onto his pallet, with both legs tucked up under him as he stared into the fire. "What kinds of things did you find when you were looking around in there? Anything interesting?" Mulder shook his head slowly, still staring at the flames. "I noticed some things that looked pretty modern, probably from the complex. Others looked like they were handmade. I can't fathom a doctor leaving all of his equipment behind, especially if he's the only one they have." His partner had no comment. Skinner sighed and rubbed his nose. He was beginning to feel in over his head, and was wishing, not for the first time, that Scully was here. "Listen, I want to go out and get some fresh water from below. Will you be OK staying here?" Mulder nodded, then slowly brought his attention from the fire. "I can stay here." "You're sure?" Skinner stood and retrieved the water bottles. There was a bowl of water near their fire, but he could smell the sedative heavily infused in it. "You can set up the shield if you want. I won't be gone long." "I'll be fine." Mulder seemed to be confident, and coherent, so Skinner accepted it. "I don't think anyone will bother you; just keep that curtain closed. They all seem pretty -- polite -- here. A little nuts, but polite." Skinner hesitated a moment longer, then picked up the containers and left, pulling the curtain over the cave mouth as he left. The trip down to the main cavern was quick, since most of the occupants were down below, cleaning up after their evening meal. Skinner paused when he reached the bottom, looking at the giant curtain that was again covering the protected passage out to the valley. He couldn't fathom that alone keeping the creatures out. Maybe they really didn't come into this mountain retreat? He sighed. One way or the other, it looked like they were going to find out. He followed a well-worn path near the far edge of the cave and found it led to a separate section going down into the lowest level of the cave. He tried to stay as unobtrusive as he could amongst the people who were coming to and from showers and those who were cleaning up from supper. Skinner filled the water bottles quickly, and headed back up, passing only two other people on his return trip. He wanted to stop them and see if they would be more willing to talk, but he also wanted to hurry back to his partner. He'd promised never to leave Mulder alone, and after their talk with Healer, he felt more protective than ever. The man seemed insane, but there was something of truth -- or desperation -- that made Skinner rethink his first impression. Whatever was going on here, it had affected everyone deeply. There could be more victims here than villains. God knew there were more than enough mysteries to go around. Skinner made his way back up to their level, now passing several people on their way to and from other caves. No one stopped him, aside from having to pause now and again on narrow sections to allow someone to pass. He was greeted with smiles and nods for the most part, and the occasional stare. His were the only normal eyes, clear and drug-free, as far as he could tell. As he approached their room, he listened for the hum of the shield. Instead of that, he heard a frustrated voice. Mulder's voice. Skinner hurried to the curtain and pulled it aside, pausing for an instant in case the shield was active after all. It wasn't, but the agitated man inside certainly was. "Mulder?" "It's not right." Skinner stopped just inside the cave. Mulder was at one wall, scratching frantically at the rock. Several other sections of wall around the room had bloodstains on them, standing out stark against the stone. "It's not right." Mulder continued to beat against the wall. He shook his head sharply, then moved to another section of rock. "What's not right? Mulder, what are you doing?" Concerned, Skinner set the water bottles down and walked up to his friend. Mulder shook his head again, then ran a dirt and blood-covered hand through his hair, staring at the walls. "It isn't right. Something's not right. It should be here, but it isn't." A twist of fear knotted Skinner's gut and he had to swallow hard against it. He lowered his voice and gently placed a hand on Mulder's shoulder, hoping to bring him back. "Mulder, talk to me. What isn't right? What are you looking for? Maybe I can help you?" Mulder glanced at him, but immediately turned back to the wall and began scraping at the rock again. "Something isn't right. It should be here." Skinner looked at the hands rubbing the dirt away from the stone, slowly shredding the tender flesh from the digits. They were covered in dirt, and blood. Oh, God, don't let me lose him to this! "What? What should be here, Mulder?" "The answer!" Mulder turned suddenly, flashing angry eyes at Skinner. "I'll know it when I find it! We're here; it's here! Why can't I see it?" Skinner took the opportunity and grabbed Mulder's hands before he could return to his frantic task. The anger in his changeable eyes flashed again, then cooled rapidly and began to slide into a vacant glaze. "Mulder, if the answer is here, we'll find it. Let me help you." His friend stopped trying to return to the rock, so he led him back to the sleeping-pallet. A gentle tug on the younger man's arms got him to sit down. Skinner was able to examine the bleeding hands. "If you could tell me what it is you're looking for in these walls, I can help you find it." "It isn't right." Skinner retrieved one of the water bottles and uncorked it with his teeth. "You're remembering something. Tell me what it is. It doesn't matter if nothing's making sense, just talk to me." He had to keep him talking, keep him there. Mulder shook his head slowly, gazing at the dirty gray walls. I'm out of my league here! Skinner never felt more keenly aware of his own inexperience. He was no doctor! How in the hell was he supposed to guide Mulder through this and have him come out the other side sane? What if he ... No, you don't go into a battle then freak out halfway. This was no less than a battle for Mulder's sanity, and Skinner hadn't refused a battle yet. He found some clean cloth in the newly acquired offerings, soaked one end with the fresh water, and began gently cleaning away the dirt and blood. "Mulder, look at me." He reached up and touched his friend's chin, turning his face until their eyes met. It took a moment, but the younger man seemed to finally focus on him. "Talk to me." Mulder swallowed, holding Skinner's gaze with a puzzled expression finally replacing the anger. "I don't -- I'm not sure what it is." "That's OK, just tell me what you think." "It's not words, not really." He shook his head and looked up, shrugging. "I keep hearing a voice -- a woman's voice -- in my head." "What is she saying?" "I -- she keeps telling me it's my fault." Mulder stopped and swallowed again, unable to meet Skinner's gaze. "She says Morgan will save them, and I was wrong." "She's from before? Something you remember?" His partner nodded. Skinner poured more water onto the cloth and got the palm of Mulder's right hand clean, exposing several scrapes and a purple bruise forming. "Is that all she says? She doesn't tell you why?" "No. Nothing else. I don't -- her voice, it's not familiar. I don't think I've heard her here." Skinner nodded, working on the other hand now as gently as he could. He had to keep the man talking, keep him from folding up into himself where he might wall out the world and remain. "Morgan is an interesting character. I don't trust him much. But you remembered his name." He carefully washed the dirt from a scrape over the knuckles on Mulder's left hand, watching his face for any reaction. "When I look at him ..." Mulder paused, his eyebrows creased in concentration. "It's like -- I feel like I'm coming up against a blank wall, in my head. I don't know where his name came from, it was just there suddenly." "What about Healer? He was the physician at the station. His room is full of some interesting things, some of them look pretty modern." Mulder's hands, when cleaned, weren't badly injured, but they were bruising quickly. "I suppose." Skinner decided against bandaging the scrapes. He put the water bottle away and got up, then sat down beside his friend. "You were doing a lot of looking around in there. Find anything interesting?" Mulder shrugged, looking at his hands. "Not really." He looked up suddenly, staring into Skinner's eyes. "He didn't have any." "Any what?" "Wouldn't they want to collect things? Like the others? Take away bits and pieces from the dead? Isn't that what people do?" Skinner swallowed, sensing they were back to the start of the issue. "I don't know, Mulder. It could be a lot of things. Maybe they don't know about the other cave. Maybe they have more respect for the dead. I just don't know." "But Morgan had things. He had the skin. Why? Why doesn't anyone else have anything?" Mulder was searching Skinner's eyes for the answer. "Some things are pretty complicated for very simple reasons." Skinner took a deep breath, praying he could handle this correctly. "In this case, this Morgan is obviously in charge. He must have used force, or manipulation, to get into the position of power he has now. Most people doing that use others to help them get there. They manipulate, using fear or deceit." He paused, wondering how much of this Mulder was following. The old Mulder would have understood instantly, but without the social referents, this was all virgin territory to this man. "To do that, they create laws under the guise of safety. Maybe he convinced them it was harmful to take things, not safe for anyone but him. Maybe he uses his ability to be around the skin to maintain his control. He probably made it against the law for anyone else, punishable by death. But why, I don't know." Mulder seemed to be absorbing the information, trying to understand it. His eyes were unfocused and his gaze wandered back to the walls. "What are you looking for?" "I don't know." He reached out and touched a patch of smooth rock, stroking it gently this time. Skinner closed his eyes for a second. There was something here, something that was haunting Mulder, and he couldn't find it. What good was he to his friend? "It's not here in words." Mulder continued to touch the wall, but he looked back at Skinner. "I feel something -- something about this. But I don't know what it is." He looked at the wall again. "Something in here isn't right." One toe began to dig at the ground. He shifted and unconsciously reached out, snagging his little statue. The damaged hands began to stroke the smooth metal. "They all had one of these." "Do you know why?" Mulder lifted one hand and stared at the open palm, studying the scrapes for a moment. He looked up again and shrugged, helplessly. "I wonder if they're all the same." Gritting his teeth against his deception, Skinner moved from the sleeping-pallet and swiftly retrieved the statue he'd hidden under the blankets of the unused bed. He had no excuse for withholding the discovery, but it was time he owned up to the consequences. "Does it look like this?" Swallowing back the last of his hesitation, Skinner offered up the small sculpture. Mulder looked at the piece and blinked, then slowly reached out and picked it up with one hand, turning it over carefully. "Where is this from?" Skinner's heart skipped a beat as he prepared to face his deception. He'd had, after all, Mulder's best interests at heart. "I found it at the burial site, near one of the skins." He waited for a reaction, but the younger man was too intent on the thing in his hand. "I meant to show it to you that night, and see what you thought ..." He swallowed once and waited. The figure in Mulder's hand had consumed his complete attention. He was moving it back and forth, tilting it now and then, and staring with intensity. "Mulder." Skinner was sure this silence meant more harm than good. He would have preferred a good scolding for having taken the little icon after Mulder's vehement insistence that nothing be disturbed. "What is it, Mulder?" Skinner put a hand on his friend's arm, trying to get his attention. When he did look up, his eyebrows were creased, and his eyes filled with confusion. "You see?" He held up his statue, then the new one. "What?" Equally confused, Skinner looked at the two statues. Same basic shape, same basic design, but each was slightly different, indicating they hadn't come from a mold. Whatever Mulder saw, he didn't see. He didn't understand any of it. "I don't see anything." If he'd known what to say, he would have happily lied just then. Mulder shook his head and continued to hold the statue up. "It's there. Can't you see it?" The look in his friend's eyes gave Skinner a stabbing pain in his chest. If something was there, he had to find it, for Mulder's sake! Determined to sit there all night, he looked at the statues again, trying to clear his mind of his own perceptions. The piece bore the same shape as Mulder's, with elongated silver legs supporting a small body and misshapen head. Long arms were crossed over the torso, and on the face was just the slightest indication of features. There was a symbol on the chest of each figure, an intricate, curlicued design, twisting and intertwining with no beginning and no end. The pieces were the same, except for ... "Wait, I see ..." Skinner reached out and took one of the sculptures, then held it up to the fire light. After confirming his discovery, he looked at the other one. The symbols *were* different. "But, why?" Mulder sighed deeply and pulled his legs up, hugging his arms around them. "You see it, don't you?" "The markings on the torso, they're different, aren't they? Skinner looked at the piece in his hand again and repeated, "But why? What does it mean?" Mulder shook his head, then rested his chin on his knees. He reached out and took his sculpture back, gently tracing the marking on it. "This means this is mine." Skinner blinked, then rubbed the other piece with his thumb, gazing at it. "But you don't know why?" Without warning, Mulder exploded from the pallet and turned back, gripping the older man's shoulders as he towered over him. "Listen to me! You have to keep this!" Mulder pushed the statue in Skinner's hand up against his chest. "Promise me!" "I will, I promise." The day's strange turn of events was getting stranger still. "Mulder, listen to me -- I think you should get some rest." Skinner took his friend by the arms and led him, unresisting, back to the bed. The younger man looked exhausted, and these mood swings were taking their toll, on both men. "We've got a lot to think about; we should both get some sleep, OK?" Mulder willingly pulled off his shirt and pants and practically melted under the blankets without a word. "I'll set the shield up on this side of the curtain, we'll be fine in here." Skinner found the shield right where he'd left it, then closed up their new curtain and reset the electrical barrier. He was aware of Mulder's gaze on him until the shield was activated, then the young man sighed quietly and closed his eyes. He was also keenly aware of the silver-gray statue he'd tucked in his pocket. The metal was warm, not cold as he would have thought. His taking the piece from the cave of skins hadn't even bothered Mulder one bit. Nor had the fact that Skinner found it days ago, and had kept it hidden. The only importance it held, and its new source of mystery, was its strange marking. But right now, the only mystery he could ponder was his partner's insistence that he keep the thing. And he interpreted Mulder's instructions as keeping it with him at all times. It wasn't worth arguing, or questioning. At least, not now. Not when he was more concerned with Mulder's mental well being. Skinner undressed and slipped under the blankets, facing his friend. He felt lost, and more than a little bit out of his sphere of knowledge. He could be 'helping' Mulder right into a complete emotional breakdown without knowing it. All that talk of being there for him ... What the hell did he know about this kind of thing? Skinner took a deep breath and rolled onto his back, staring up at the rock above. Mulder moved in his sleep, one arm reaching out to rest lightly against his side. The younger man still had the statue clutched in his hand, and without moving, Skinner reached down to his pants on the floor and pulled 'his' statue out, holding it loosely in his hand. He could feel the heat from the metal. It radiated outward in an oddly comforting manner, and the weight in his hand was a constant reminder of the match in Mulder's hand. Whatever it meant -- whatever the statue truly stood for -- he was happy to have it. The man at his side stirred again, and he reached out to stroke his back and murmur a soft reassurance. "We'll be OK, Mulder. I promise." ******************************************** Mulder woke shivering. The cave was eerily lit by the dancing blue of shimmering electricity. He'd rolled away from Skinner in the night, and now the man slept quietly on the other side of sleeping-pallet, apparently warm under the thick layers of blankets. Skinner had given up enough sleep in the last couple of months to Mulder's illness and nightmares, and he was reluctant to wake him by pressing an ice cold body into his warm space. But, damn! He was cold! Two attempts at curling up in a tighter ball failed to warm him, so Mulder gave up and got out of bed, hurrying to his pile of clothes at the far side of their cave. He quietly dressed in the clothes he'd arrived in, pulling on pants, socks, then the sweatshirt with Skinner's name emblazoned on the front. Immediately he felt warmer, but even he knew it was probably only the psychological effect of being back in clothes that were his own. Once dressed, he found Skinner's watch, then walked back to the second pallet to remove the blanket. With the dark covering wrapped around his shoulders, Mulder sat down near the fire, positioning himself between Skinner's bed and the flames of their unending fire, facing their shielded door. A glance at the watch showed him how early it was: just four o'clock in the morning. He'd never been overly concerned with time that he could remember. He'd never had a schedule to keep before. Even the coming of the monsters had faded from his mind because he simply knew that it was safe if you didn't go out. No calendar was necessary to remind Mulder when the cycle would occur; the gauges on the batteries had always been enough. But this timepiece of Skinner's held some fascination. It had been places he couldn't remember, had been part of a life that was vanished to him now. This simple collection of gears and switches had more history than he did. It had lived in his world, known his life, seen his friends, then traveled with Skinner -- his friend -- to this very spot, nestled in Mulder's left hand. He found that fascinating. One hand drifted up to touch the cross at this throat. It, too, was part of a world vanished to him. He conjured up the image of the red-haired woman, the image of Scully. He'd only had brief flashes of her, and he wasn't even completely sure this image *was* her, but for now it was all he had. She'd sent him this cross, a reminder that she had faith in him. A reminder that he had to be true to himself. And she'd sent him Walter. The man who lay sleeping now, but whom he knew would wake immediately if something went wrong. Who was this woman who sent him everything that was important in his life? He looked at the watch again, then slipped it into his pocket. World traveler the watch might be, the cross -- and unending symbol of things greater than he; but both were just as stuck here at the Pole as he was. And these inanimate objects didn't care that strange things were happening all around them. Mulder sighed and fingered the cross and its tiny tracer once more, then glanced over his shoulder at Skinner. He knew he should turn off the shield and save the charge, but he couldn't bring himself to get up. Finally warm, and not willing to wake the older man from his much-deserved rest, Mulder chose to sit there and enjoy the peace inside his head. He remembered last night's antics as if he'd watched it all from the other room. The irrational confusion that filled his head with no logical reason, demanding he search for something with no clue as to what. Or why. It was so plain to see, he couldn't even explain it to himself. But the answer had to be there, somewhere. And the whole thing had revealed that Skinner had a statue, too. Maybe the statues were part of the answer. Though they really just raised more questions. The habitat's blue light bounced around the room, casting an eerie glow as his shadow flickered and jumped with soundless activity. He had no answer for what the statues meant, where they came from, what they were made of. But something in his mind was screaming the importance at him, and until last night, when he'd shown Skinner, he had wondered if it would ever make sense. Something about the markings on the statues was critical. The markings were an identifier, or perhaps, a history, but whatever they were, they were crucial. Skinner could see it; he knew how important it was. And now that he knew Skinner had a statue too -- *that* statue -- he felt satisfied, secure. Maybe now that he had another piece of the puzzle, his friend could solve the mystery and they could go home? He felt sure if he could show Skinner enough, he'd figure it all out. But that done, he still didn't know why he was here. Or how he'd come to be alone when there was a whole population of people living in the mountains. Or where the damn mountains came from. Or what it all meant. For that matter, he didn't understand Healer, or Morgan, or any of these people. And he didn't want to know. But he had to. So much for peace! He'd give anything for the chance to stop thinking for an hour or so. And for something to tie his hair back with. It must have gotten longer without his noticing, as it often did. Long strands of dark brown kept falling forward, obscuring his vision on either side. For the third time that morning, Mulder pushed the errant strands away by running one hand over the top of his head. Skinner never had this problem. No hair on top, and what little he did have, he kept so short it was probably still regulation length. He turned slightly to look at his friend, who was still sleeping soundly. It was that regulation air, that aura of authority, with the attitude and carriage of a warrior, that made Mulder feel so safe. People could see what kind of man he was, how dangerous he could be. He wondered if that look was something Skinner had learned and developed, or if it was just him. Either way, he was thankful to be behind him, or as was more often the case, attached to his side, rather than the focus of that honed skill. Movement beside Mulder caught his attention as Skinner woke up, looking over at him. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, I was just cold. It was either this or climb on top of you." For an instant, Mulder feared his scattered thoughts had been out loud, waking his friend from a good night's sleep. "Did I wake you?" "No, no you didn't." Skinner pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes, holding one edge of the blanket up. "You should know by now I don't bite. You want to get some more sleep?" Mulder shook his head. "Nah, I'm not tired anymore." Skinner wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, scooped up the little statue that had fallen from his grasp in sleep, then joined Mulder on the dirt floor in front of the fire. "You OK?" "Yeah." Mulder nodded, adjusting the cover around his shoulders while Skinner got comfortable beside him. "I'm sorry about last night." Skinner met his gaze and smiled slightly. "Mulder, it's --" "No, really, it was a little crazy." He shook his head, trying to make sense out of the strangeness in his mind. "I just -- it was like I knew I had to look for something, my *hands* knew, but my head didn't have a clue. I had to let them look and hope I could catch up. It was ..." "Frightening?" Mulder swallowed, then nodded. "Yeah, it was. It's like everything I need to know is right there in front of me, but I can't find the path to get to it. And going on like this puts me right about on the same level as Healer and the other crazies." "We'll find it, Mulder." Skinner hitched the blanket higher over one shoulder. "And if we don't, then it wasn't important." Mulder looked at his friend for a long time, scanning the warm brown eyes hidden behind the glasses curiously. "Can I ask you a question?" "Of course you can." Skinner turned slightly to face him. "How come you're always so understanding?" Skinner's answer was a confused arch of his eyebrows. "Well, you are. More than I could be, that's for sure." Mulder shrugged. "I mean, how much stranger could things get here? I should have all the answers, but I don't. And every time I -- flip out -- you just tell me it's gonna be fine." Skinner laughed and shook his head. "What would you rather I did?" "I dunno. Yell, maybe? Get mad now and then?" "What good would that do?" Their eyes met for a moment, and Skinner smiled slightly. "Look, Mulder, I wish I had all the answers right now, and I could explain everything to you and we could go home happy. But I don't. Pushing you to find something that may or may not be there wouldn't do either of us any good." Mulder shrugged, glancing at the fire. He almost wished pushing would work, but being the brunt of this man's anger wasn't something he ever wanted to volunteer for. Skinner sighed heavily. "Mulder, if I could pack you up in that useless plane and fly us both back to civilization, I'd do it in a heart beat. Let these whackos keep their little secrets and manipulative mind games. But I can't. The best I can do is try and help you find what you lost, without losing you in the process." Mulder looked up, and the glint of silver from the statue lying on Skinner's lap caught his eye. "I'm in uncharted territory here, Mulder. I'm a fighter, a cop, an investigator. But this is way beyond me. And God knows I'm no psychologist. The only way I know how to chart the unknown is slowly and carefully." "Does that mean, when this is over and we've got it all figured out, you're gonna get angry with me?" Skinner's smile broke into laughter again. "Only if you deserve it, Mulder. And don't look so worried -- you've lived through a few of my tirades before." Mulder laughed shortly and nodded, looking again at the statue. After a moment, he reached out and pressed the silver against Skinner's bare leg, then moved it upward to rest over the man's heart. A scream of sound flew past his ears, random noise, at ear-splitting level. But the sound made no sense, there were no words. Just noise, loud and mixed. And a kaleidoscope of colors swirling past. He could feel it in his hands, feel the sounds vibrating against his skin, melting into him until he was hearing with his fingers, his arms, his whole body, seeing with his skin, his tongue, his toes, and he began to shake. "Mulder?" You'll kill us all! They're coming back! Get indoors! Quickly, get everyone inside, they're coming! "Mulder, what is it?" Sound ran past him in a blur of motion, people screamed and pushed, keeping him from the door. He wanted to get outside! God, they were coming and he was fighting to get out! The hand that touched his arm brought Mulder back to reality with a snap. He blinked a few times, then focused again on the statue he was still pressing against Skinner's chest. "I -- I saw something. I'm not sure what it was, but I saw something." Keeping his hand from shaking with the shocking memory was too hard, so he reluctantly let it slip off his friend. "What? What did you see?" "I don't -- I'm not sure." A chill made Mulder pull his blanket around his shoulders more tightly. He turned to stare into the fire. "It's like some kind of strange dream, where you remember images but you can't find words to explain them." "That's all right, Mulder. Don't try to explain them, just try and describe what you saw." He sighed and pushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, then looked up at Skinner. "There were sounds, lots of different sounds, some of them in patterns, but it was all so loud. Still, it was like -- like it meant something." Mulder shook his head and glanced around the room. "I don't know what. I couldn't even tell where it was coming from, what was making the sound." "That's OK. What else?" "Colors. Bright, swirling colors in dancing patterns that flew past too quickly to read." "And?" "I think -- I hear people screaming, shouting that 'they're coming', and everyone's running." "The creatures, maybe?" Mulder looked up and met Skinner's gaze. "I think so. But I'm running to the door. Like I want to go outside. That can't be real. It has to be something else." Skinner began chewing the inside of one cheek, contemplating what he had said. "It can't mean that. These people, they're shouting for everyone to get inside. But I -- there's also a voice saying that I'll kill them all." Mulder's gaze fell to the ground, then sought out the flames of their fire. "It can't mean that." "I'm sure it doesn't mean what it seems to." Skinner shook his head slightly. "But it does mean you're trying to remember something." He reached out and fingered the little figure that had dropped into his lap again. "There's something here, too. Someone or something made these, and they mean something." Mulder laughed shortly. "Well, if you figure it out, let me know." He pushed back more hair that had fallen into his face, then looked up suddenly at Skinner and pointed to the statue. "I want you to keep that with you. But keep it hidden." If someone here found it, they might take it from him, and that thought scared Mulder, though he didn't know why. Skinner looked at him, fingering the figure. "I'll keep it in the cargo pocket of my pants, if it's that important." "It is." Now he was supposed to know why. But he didn't. All he knew was that statue needed to be with Skinner, and he had to make damn sure it was never lost! "Mulder, I found this in the graveyard, remember?" "Yeah, you said that." Skinner continued to hold his gaze with a slight look of concern. "It was with one of the skins, and I took it with me." He paused, but Mulder wasn't sure what the problem was. "I know." "That doesn't bother you? That I took this from the graveyard?" Of course, he'd made such a fuss before. "That's different." "How is it different?" That was a good question. Mulder's eyebrows knit in confusion. He knew, but he didn't know. In fact, he could show Skinner why -- why what? "C'mon, let's go." "What?" Mulder scrambled to his feet and shrugged off the blanket. "Outside. The tunnel that leads into the valley. If we hurry, the others won't be up." Skinner got to his feet quickly and tossed his blanket aside. "Hurry for what, Mulder?" He began to pull on the clean clothes, not waiting for the answer. "I won't know till we get there." Mulder smiled apologetically. It was last night all over again. The consuming need to find something that he wouldn't recognize until he did. If he did. He knew the night was long and would last months longer, but still he felt a need to hurry. "OK, let's go see what we see, then." Skinner was dressed for the most part, with pants and shoes on. His shirt was in one hand and he motioned to their door with the other. "Turn those off and toss 'em here." Mulder complied, gently lobbing the habitats to Skinner so they could be put under their new clothes. He led the way out into the main walkway, then paused, waiting for his friend to take point. "We just have to get outside, away from these lights." Skinner didn't hesitate, and took the main path leading down to the huge open cavern on the lower level, pulling his shirt on while they walked. They passed no one on the way, and noticed almost every cave entrance they passed was curtained, the occupants probably still asleep. The large curtain in the main room was pulled closed, but there was a smaller flap on the far corner that blew gently, letting in a warm breeze. So warm, it was hard to remember they were still at the South Pole. "I think I might know where you're going with this, Mulder." Skinner pushed aside the curtain and stepped outside first. "Good, 'cause I haven't got a clue." Mulder paused for an instant, suddenly realizing what he was doing. A hard swallow and a hand on Skinner's arm, and he was out and standing under the stars. "Oh, God." "It's OK, I'm pretty sure it's safe here." Skinner turned so he could take Mulder by the arm and gently pulled him a few steps away from the entrance so the curtain could flop back. All the light from the fires and candles inside vanished behind the heavy cloth. Suddenly an urgent, pressing feeling shouted inside Mulder's head. He didn't stop to try and understand it. With both hands, he scrambled at the button on the pocket on Skinner's calf, pulling the statue out. Skinner produced the other one, the one that was Mulder's and held it out as well. Whatever he was looking for, it just wasn't right. Without an explanation, Mulder pushed Skinner sideways, then three steps farther to the left, following along so he didn't have to take his hands away from the big man. Skinner complied without argument or question, stepping where Mulder pushed. After another adjustment, a shaft of moonlight hit the statue from the side, reflecting back softly. "There!" Mulder felt triumphant -- and confused -- at the same time. He pointed at the silver and looked up into Skinner's eyes. "It's there!" But Skinner couldn't see it, not with Mulder moving around so much. "Hold still." Mulder froze, fearing the worst until Skinner put a hand on his arm. "I can see it in yours." "You can see it move?" A wave of relief washed over him. He stood still, staring at Skinner's statue. Lit from within by the moon and starlight, the tiny symbols on the statue began to grow and move. The markings shifted in the soft light, bouncing on the surface as if dancing there. Fascinated, he watched mesmerized as the symbols shifted and changed across the surface of the small figure. Growing, moving across the torso, down the legs, then dwindling down to nothingness, only to be born again. Mulder knew his own was doing the same, providing the light hit it just so. His held a different pattern, a different message. He knew that as well. Now maybe Skinner could figure out why. A few minutes later, a cloud drifted across the moon and the light faded. As quickly as they had appeared, the markings vanished, leaving only the gray metal of the sculpture. Mulder looked at Skinner, eyebrows raised. "You saw that?" Slowly, his friend nodded. "Come on, let's go back." Skinner put his hand on Mulder's back and ushered him back inside the cavern. Mulder swallowed, nodding. "OK, so what does it mean?" Skinner pulled back the curtain and stepped back into the candle-lit corridor, shaking his head. "I have no idea. But it's something." He ran a hand over his face, then touched Mulder's shoulder. "Come on, let's get some breakfast." Breakfast? How could he think of breakfast at a time like this? They'd just made a monumental discovery of ... of ... They'd just found out that ... "Yeah, I could eat." Skinner led the way back out through the main cavern, where people were beginning to mill about, then down to the lower level, where unprepared food was stored. They breakfasted on fresh bread and cool, clear water in silence, each thinking over the morning's strange events. Mulder hoped his partner was coming up with better thoughts than the ones plaguing him. "What do we do now?" He tossed aside a crust and wiped both hands on his pants. "I'm in the mood for a walk." "What?" Mulder looked up at Skinner, squinting to see in the still dim lights. "A walk?" Was he losing it? They had things to figure out, a tunnel to find. They had to get done whatever it was Skinner hoped to accomplish here and get home, and he wanted to take a walk? "We've seen that valley from the tunnel." Skinner stood and looked to back toward the stairs. "I want to know what else is out there. Why is it so damn warm in the caves? In the valley, too. Didn't you notice when we went out? The whole damn bowl has to be seventy degrees. No snow in sight. Shit, you could plant crops there when the sun was shining. Probably where they got a lot of this." He turned and pointed in several different directions. "And I want to know where our tunnel out is." Mulder shifted and nodded slowly. "And you don't have any idea where?" Skinner shook his head, looking down at his partner. "We're about to try and find out." He reached down and helped Mulder up, then put a hand on the younger man's shoulder and began walking back toward the stairs up. "I've had about as much of these lunatics as I can stand for a bit, so I thought we'd go for a stroll." "I'm with you." Mulder nodded vigorously. Anything to get away from these people! But before they could go, they had to get a few things. And that meant going back up through the caves to their chamber. He hated walking around inside when the people were out and about. They always looked at him with their drug-dulled eyes, as if they expected him to say something momentous. Some of them looked afraid, others curious or confused, as if they didn't believe he was who he was. Mulder tried hard not to look at them very long, afraid he might remember someone, and afraid he wouldn't. The instant they entered the cavern, his hand sought out Skinner's shirt and he quickly fell in step beside him, melting into his partner as if he was his shadow. From there, he could watch the people walk by without feeling affected by them. As if he was watching from high above it all, with detached disinterest. "What's this?" Mulder stopped at their door, peering inside the room. It was filled with large, soft pillows and thick, heavy blankets, arranged in a semi-circle around their fire much like the seating in Healer's cave. Skinner walked inside and pointed to another pile of fabric, then turned to Mulder. "Looks like we have a good fairy or something." "What's that?" Skinner turned. "Ah, it's an ancient myth about --" "No, that." Mulder pointed to a folded piece of cloth on Skinner's pillow, held in place by a small rock. "Oh." Skinner walked to the bed and picked up the cloth. "It's a map." Mulder finally entered the room, glancing from side to side as he quickly made his way to his partner. The cloth Skinner held was actually a piece of skin, like the parchment pieces they had found in the other cavern. This one had a crude map written out in black. It came with a note. "It's Norton." Skinner tilted the skin toward the firelight. "'There's something you have to see, before you'll understand.'" Mulder reached out and took a corner of the map, gazing at the lines drawn there. "See what? Understand what?" "I guess we'll have to go find out." Skinner folded up the hide and shoved it into one of the pockets on his pant leg. "Wait, we can't trust that guy." Mulder tugged on his partner's shirt when he turned to gather up the pack and a water bottle. "I don't. But we were heading out anyway." Skinner handed Mulder the pack, then clipped the water bottle to his belt, opposite the side he knew the younger man would be holding on to. "Norton is afraid of these people, remember? He wants us to help him get out of here. That means we can use him." Mulder shook his head and stared down at the pack in his hands. "I didn't say trust him, Mulder, just use him." Skinner put a hand on his shoulder and Mulder looked up. "OK?" "Yeah, OK." He slipped the pack over his shoulders and gave their redecorated room another glance. "If they think this is going to make me feel like nesting, they're wrong." Skinner laughed. "I don't think we have to worry about that. You've got a nest already. And the sooner we get this place figured out, the sooner we can get you back to it." Mulder nodded his agreement and followed his friend back out into the walkway, then blended into his side as best he could for the walk back down and out. From the cavern below, they could see two guards once again posted outside Morgan's cave on the higher level. No one stopped them, or questioned their direction as they left the caves and walked out into the tunnel to the bowl. Several men were hauling back the main curtain and Skinner commented on the elaborate system of weights and pulleys required to handle such a task. Mulder still didn't understand how a simple curtain of cloth could protect anyone if the monsters chose to come, but he didn't plan on hanging around long enough to find out. They had to get out of here before the creatures came. Somehow he doubted that would happen. The mountain-rimmed bowl housing the valley provided protection from the outside weather, and served as a guardian against too much snow turned to rain and over-flooding. What the hell was the source of all this heat here at the pole? The hot spring in the 'basement' was a good indication of more hot water elsewhere, and an obvious clue to the heat's source, if they could find where it came from. They were actually sweating before they even reached the ridge. The rock itself was like a huge spine, growing out of the mountain beside them and stretching nearly all the way across the valley. But it was an easy climb to the top, and a gentle slope downward. At the top, Skinner called a halt and they broke out their lunch, eating quietly. "Can I look at that map again?" Skinner replied with a nod, so Mulder reached out and unzipped the pocket he'd seen his partner put the hide in, then sat back and spread the crudely drawn map out over his lap. The ridge was easy to identify, giving him a point of reference from which to begin. Farther on were some markings he took to represent a large stretch of flat land, but off to the side, hugging the mountain beside them, was something he couldn't quite figure out. It appeared as if the ground got rocky, and steeper, then flattened into a plateau that blended into the mountain wall. There was a X mark on the plateau, and a circle around it, marking it as something they were suppose to notice. After that, the bowl ended butt up against the rest of the mountain range as it came around and enclosed the entire valley from the opposite side. Obviously Norton wanted Skinner to go to the plateau, and see what was there. And just as obviously, Skinner was doing it. But the fact that it was one of McMurray's men doing the suggesting gave Mulder a decidedly uneasy feeling. Still, he was sure Skinner knew what he was doing. Mulder sighed and folded up the map, then returned it to the pocket on Skinner's left thigh and lay back on the ground, closing his eyes for a few minutes. Lunch digested easily, and the contented satisfaction of being out of the caves, away from the people, and actually not being *cold* lingered in him like a warm, sleepy feeling. After a few minutes of listening to the peaceful sound of Skinner's even breathing, he felt himself begin to drift into a nap. The sound that brought him back to reality wasn't human. "Did you hear that?!" Mulder sat straight up then scrambled to his feet, looking around quickly to locate the source. Skinner was on his feet seconds behind his partner. "What? What did you hear?" "I heard -- I --" There was nothing around them rocks, and stone, and sandy gravel. "I heard something." He stopped looking around and gazed up at Skinner. "It was something I know." What was it? He'd heard that sound before, many times. What was it? "Animal? Human? What did it sound like?" Skinner had been looking around, but shrugged when he, too, found nothing to be alarmed about. He knit his eyebrows in concentration, trying to recall the sound. It was fading already, as if perhaps he'd dreamed it from the start. Then it happened again. Mulder looked up instantly. By the look on his friend's face, the sound hadn't been his imagination. Skinner looked around again, searching for the source of the high-pitched, vibrating sound. It stopped seconds after it had begun, leaving no echoing trace. After a moment, he looked at the ground. "It sounded far away, like maybe it was being carried through the rock or something." Mulder looked at the ground near their feet, then glanced around the immediate area. "Carried from where?" "I don't know." Skinner shook his head, then nodded in the direction they had intended to travel. "But I'd guess that way." Of course. Mulder swallowed and looked back up at his partner. "I don't suppose ..." He raised both eyebrows and let his voice trail off. "Would you rather stay here? We're alone, the area is safe enough. You should be fine." He could. If he said he wanted to, Skinner would let him stay behind and wait. There was no accusing stare of condemnation in those dark eyes. "No, I -- I'll come with you." He knew that sound from somewhere! "I don't think it's an animal. I just can't think what it is." Skinner smiled and glanced over Mulder's shoulder past the ridge. "Well, let's go find out then." They followed the ridge across a narrow section. Ahead of them sloped a slight rise of dirt and rock that formed the base of a larger, steeper hill. According to the map they'd been given, the plateau should be visible on the other side of the smaller rise, hidden now by the steeper section of rock. Both men were hot and quickly began to sweat. No sun, and still this incredible heat! "The first thing I'm doing when we get back is hitting those hot springs." They started up the rise, picking their way over loose rocks and sliding dirt. Mulder laughed shortly, shaking his head. "I don't care if you spend all day in there, I'll just be happy to get back." He tested a rock for stability, then stepped over it. Skinner glanced over his shoulder, then continued to the top of the hill and turned to give Mulder a hand over the ridge. "Back to the caves, the station, or the world?" "I dunno. Maybe the station, for now. Maybe I could make sense of some of the files now." "You think you could break the encryption?" Mulder paused at the top of the hill and swatted some dust from his pants. It was easier to consider how dirty he'd gotten climbing up then accept the strange, twisting sensation in his gut. Did he really believe what he was thinking? Puzzled, he met Skinner's gaze. "I think I may have done it. For protection." Skinner's eyes opened a bit wider, then narrowed as he considered what his partner said. "Very good!" The surprise at hearing a voice in front of them nearly knocked Mulder off the hill. Skinner spun around, and in doing so stepped slightly to one side, allowing Mulder a better view of Brian McMurray standing on a boulder, looking down at them both. "You must be getting some of that scrambled memory back after all." Something moved in the shadow of the rock, and Norton stepped out into the light. "That is, if you ever really lost it in the first place." Mulder reached out and took hold of Skinner's sleeve, pulling himself closer while being careful not to hold his friend back should he want to rush forward and kill the bastard. "I thought I smelled something on the climb up." Skinner's posture altered slightly and Mulder felt as if he was standing against a rock that was fully prepared to lash out at anything that approached. He gazed up at the man staring down at them and waited. "Would you like to come down here and die, or shall I come up there?" Even in the pale light of the ever-present moon, the flash of fear in McMurray's eyes was obvious. "Now, now, Skinner. I do know Healer explained the laws here." McMurray shifted on his boulder but didn't jump down. "Poor man. He was their physician, you know." He shook his head and lifted his shoulders in a sad shrug. "Still, after what they went through, you can hardly blame some of these people for taking the medicated route. Especially a doctor who had to watch so many people die such horrible deaths." "Don't try and kill him, Skinner." Norton stepped forward, a look of pleading anxiety on his face. "Believe me, they'll punish you." "Yes, they will." Now McMurray stepped forward and dropped down to the ground. He stayed near the boulder, keeping several yards between himself and Skinner. "I've explained to Morgan how you might find it within yourself to murder me, so he's keeping an eye out. If I don't return this evening, he's going to assume you did. Both you, and your *friend,* there, would be punished." Mulder spared a quick glance at Skinner and saw the incredible tension in his partner's jawline. Every muscle in his body was on alert, and what little he could see of those dark brown eyes had turned hard as stone. Yet as angry as he was, he wasn't shaking or red-faced like other people Mulder had seen get angry. Skinner was a weapon, aimed and primed and ready, and in complete control. "So tell me, did you find this place before or after you tried to kill my *friend?*" The calmness in Skinner's voice, coupled with the effect Mulder knew those drill-like eyes were having, caused Norton to swallow convulsively, and McMurray's face flushed for a brief moment. "That hardly matters now. What does matter --" "He found it two weeks before." Norton blurted, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Sweat was beading up on his forehead and lip, but he let his momentum carry the explanation forward. "The three of us, me, Sorkowski, and McMurray, we were out on patrol. Brian -- he -- he spots this girl hiding in a cave. She was obviously from before." Norton pointed to Mulder. "She hadn't come down with us." "You found evidence of survivors and kept it to yourself?" Skinner's gaze bored holes into McMurray, forcing him to look away momentarily. "He talked to her," Norton continued. "We all did. She said it was her job to keep watch on the complex, and report back once every month to these people here. They were too afraid to come out." He glanced at Mulder and swallowed hard. "They were afraid of him -- of what he'd do." "Why?" Skinner turned his attention on Norton. Mulder moved his body just enough to bring his left shoulder behind Skinner's right arm. His heart was pounding in his chest, and a twisting fear was building in his gut with each sentence the frightened man uttered. Watching him? They'd known all along he was alive. At least some of them did. "She said -- she brought us here, to meet Morgan. I don't know what they said, he and Brian, but when we were sent out we -- if we killed Mulder, then they were going to give him power here." Norton's hands began to shake and he stepped closer to them, away from McMurray. "It was his idea, to gain power or something. If he killed Mulder, they'd bring the others to this valley and give him authority over them. That Morgan guy, he was going to give McMurray some sort of governorship." "Only I failed, thanks to you." McMurray held out both hands and forced a smile. "So I had to high-tail it out of there and try another plan." Under the hand he kept on Skinner's arm, Mulder could feel the massive tension in his partner's muscles as he kept himself physically in check. "What's your plan, McMurray? You gonna take over down here and rule as king or something? Is this the kind of life you came looking for? Being in charge of a group of half-drugged, burned out scientists who can't even tell you their names with a straight answer? Killing anyone who doesn't go along?" "Skinner, your vision is too simplistic. This group already has a leader. And he's been doing quite well for a very long time. I admire him. You wouldn't believe what he had to go through to get where he is today." "Morgan is a madman. He's using force, intimidation, drugs, imprisonment." Skinner shook his head once. "Figures you'd find something to admire in that." "Ah, but he's very clever. You just haven't heard the whole story yet." Mulder swallowed, forcing moisture down a throat parched by fear. His heart was pounding so badly he thought it would start moving his shirt soon. Part of him wanted Skinner to let himself loose and tear McMurray's head off his shoulders with bare hands. But another part just wanted them to leave, go home, let these people keep their little world and their cryptic secrets all to themselves. Maybe they could collapse that tunnel and never let them out of this bowl. "So enlighten me." Skinner's tone took on a strong hint of boredom, but it had the proper affect. "It was all his doing." McMurray pointed a finger at Mulder. "After the first attacks, after so many of their people died, they were beginning to get a handle on things. Like Peters and his little scientists seem to think they're doing. Only *he* brought it all down on top of them." The twisting in Mulder's gut grew stronger. He could feel his hand begin to shake as it clutched Skinner's arm more tightly. As if in response, his partner turned just enough toward him to prevent McMurray from having any clear shot. "He started trying to communicate with those creatures." ********************************************* What?! Mulder blinked and had to fight off an incredible sense of dizziness suddenly. "Morgan said he deciphered their symbols, learned some kind of communication method, and even invited one of those things inside the station." "No! That's not true." It wasn't true. McMurray was lying, that was it. Morgan must have let one of them inside, it was the kind of thing he'd do. No, he set the computer to always lock the doors, and he made sure it couldn't be overridden. Skinner's arm on his shoulder brought Mulder back to the present, but the shift had made him release his grip, so he found his partner's waistband and clutched it for support. "Don't remember that part yet?" "Get to the point!" Skinner's voice managed a level of controlled anger that made Norton jump. "Listen, Skinner, it wasn't me who convinced those people the creatures were harmless. It wasn't me who went outside and communicated with the animals that killed my own people." McMurray's gaze shot to Mulder. "It wasn't me who threatened to get the rest of these people killed by those actions!" "Enough!" Skinner lunged forward and Mulder released his hold. "No, they'll kill you for it! You musn't break the rules." Norton intervened, stepping between Skinner and McMurray. "Believe me, that's what happened to Sorkowski!" Mulder couldn't move. Everything that was happening echoed through his head like thunder. He wanted Skinner to kill the man, but he wanted everything gone. Every word McMurray had said, everything he'd done or seen or thought. He wanted Skinner to erase him completely. Norton was still desperately insistent. "I'll tell you everything, I swear. If you'll promise to get me out of this place, I'll tell you everything! But if you kill him, they'll find out!" Skinner stood still, facing McMurray who in turn shot glances back and forth between them all. Mulder knew he should do something, but compared to the man defending him, there wasn't much he could offer by way of help. After a moment of silence, Norton stepped back. "The punishment for breaking the rules is death, right?" Skinner's eyes never left McMurray. "That's right. And they're expecting me back soon." Mulder saw his partner nod once, then turn slightly sideways as if he was reconsidering his actions. He took his glasses off, slipping them into Mulder's hand. "But I don't see anyone around to say we've been fighting." "There's no one --" Skinner finished McMurray's sentence for him with a fist to his jaw. It had taken everyone by surprise, but a second later Mulder realized the trick. It had been enough of a surprise to give Skinner a decided advantage. McMurray had barely recovered from the punch when Skinner sent another fist into his face, followed by a quick punch to the gut. McMurray stumbled backwards and Norton moved to intervene. "Leave him alone!" Mulder let anger quell the fear he'd been filled with. He rushed forward and blocked Norton's access to the two men fighting. He was a good fifty pounds lighter than the man, and far less muscular, but he knew he could fight dirty if he had to. At least he thought he could fight dirty. He had a sudden flash of Skinner and himself, and he was taking a punch at the older man, then being collared quickly in a choke hold. He shook his head and the image was gone. What the hell had that been about? Norton replied with raised hands and took two steps back. Mulder turned in time to see McMurray spin around and catch Skinner's jaw with the back of his hand, using the momentum of his turn to snap Skinner's head to the side. He recovered immediately and returned the favor, followed by another blow to McMurray's body. Mulder kept his eyes on his partner, ready to jump in the moment he was needed. Not that he could have done much more than hinder McMurray's movements for a moment, but if Skinner needed that, he was ready. Suddenly, in the glow of the heavy lantern, there was a glint of light on silver. Something flashed in McMurray's hand. Skinner jumped back, dodging the knife blade with less than an inch to spare. Mulder knew instantly then what fighting dirty meant. He rushed forward as McMurray pulled back to stab again, slamming into the man from behind. When he hit the ground, he let go and rolled quickly away, nearly sending himself back down the steep hill he'd just climbed up. Another flash of silver passed his face as the knife flew through the air and tumbled down the rocks. Mulder looked up and saw Skinner's leg ending its swing, his foot having slammed into McMurray's weapon hand. He brought the foot back again and hit McMurray in the forehead. "Stop this! They'll kill us all!" Norton dashed forward and blocked McMurray from Skinner. "Please, just leave him!" "Out of the way! He's coming back to the complex with us!" Skinner stepped forward and Mulder scrambled to his feet. McMurray stood and took several steps back, wiping the blood from his face. "We'll finish this another time, Skinner. I'm not ready to throw everything away just yet." Skinner surged forward but Mulder jumped ahead in time to grab his arm. "Let them go! I don't want him that bad, Walter! Please, it's not worth it." "Listen to your friend, Skinner." McMurray continued to step away, backing up toward the slope. "They'll kill you if I don't arrive back at the caves alive." Mulder held Skinner's arm with both hands. He could feel the strength this man possessed, and he knew with no effort at all, Skinner could slip out of his grasp and do whatever he wanted. But he stayed put, using the back on one large hand to wipe some blood from the corner of his mouth. "I'll tell you everything I know, tonight." Norton whispered. He turned quickly and followed McMurray down the hill. "You would have killed him." Mulder looked up at his partner, meeting eyes that were no longer dangerously angry. "Only if he made me, Mulder. He's coming back to face a trial." Skinner wiped his lip again then looked at his hand. "You're bleeding." Mulder blinked, surprised at the sight of blood on his friend's lip and near one eye. He grabbed the water bottle from Skinner's hip, then quickly tugged at his shirt, ripping a strip from the bottom of his T-shirt. "They deserve him here." He doused the cloth with water. "Maybe we should leave them both." With the damp cloth sufficiently rolled up in one hand, Mulder dabbed at the cut over Skinner's eye. "I want him tried, convicted, and punished by the people who sent him out here." Skinner winced slightly and raised a hand. "I'm OK." "Hold still till the bleeding stops." Mulder moved the cloth around in his hand and dabbed at the corner of Skinner's mouth. "We need to do something about infection, too." "That little stunt of yours could have gotten you killed." Mulder shrugged, ready to accept whatever scolding might come his way. "He had a knife." "Yeah, and if he'd known how to use it --" "He didn't." Mulder added more water to the cloth and reached up for Skinner's eye again, but his partner took hold of his wrist, gently keeping his hand away from the cut. "He could have." Skinner met Mulder's gaze, but his reprimand was gently delivered. "You took care of it." He looked at the cut again, then accepted Skinner's dismissal of his nursing now that the wound had stopped bleeding. "Now what do we do?" Skinner sighed, then let go of Mulder's wrist and looked over his shoulder. "I still want to see what's over there. When we get back, we'll find out what Norton has to tell us and go from there." Mulder nodded and recapped the water bottle. "Here, wrap this around your knuckles, just in case." He handed Skinner the wet cloth. "Thanks." They started off again, rounding the last of the boulders blocking the landscape ahead. "Don't you want McMurray brought back? Punished for what he did?" "I don't care." Mulder shrugged, then picked his way around some loose rocks, bumping into Skinner for a second until he found solid ground again when they reached a smooth patch. "I just want him gone. Dead, left here, whatever. Just gone." "Left here? Now that would be justice." "I just don't want to have to deal with him. There's enough going on without this." "Well, Mulder, you're a better man than I am." "What?" Mulder stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at his partner incredulously. Skinner shrugged and gazed over Mulder's shoulder. "I want him punished." "Yeah, but --" "Look at that." Mulder looked up and realized Skinner was pointing to something behind him. When he turned to see what it was, they heard the sound again, louder than before. "That's it!" It was huge, hovering over the valley from its perch on top of the plateau. Made of the odd gray metal of the statues, glinting in the moon's light, it was an enormous cage, plump and rounded. The bars were just close enough together to keep a man -- or a monster -- inside. After his initial shock, Mulder found himself strangely curious to see the thing close up. He followed Skinner as they picked their way up a relatively easy path that switch-backed to the top of the plateau. "My God." Mulder stood at the edge, staring at their find. The structure looked like a giant pumpkin, with the bars extending upward, arching toward each other to form a sort of roof. Made entirely of the gray metal, it was smooth and oddly warm to the touch, but held no markings or identification that could be readily seen. Steam rose up from the center of the structure, obscuring what had to be a hole of some kind in the center. It was way too hot to get closer than the outside bars, even if they had been able to inch through. "This was making that sound?" Skinner stepped up to the cage and looked around at the underside of the arms. "Watch." Mulder dug in his pack, producing his statue, then joined his partner. His elation at having remembered this trick kept his complete and utter terror of their discovery at bay. When Skinner looked down, he touched the statue to the solid part of the cage floor. The sound that ensued was felt more than heard as the vibration coursed through the floor and up each arm. Colors coursed over the bars. Skinner nodded, then began walking around, looking at the structure and touching the metal. "Those people didn't make this, did they?" His demonstration over, Mulder was beginning to feel the impact of what they were looking at. He swallowed hard, then forced his feet to move so he could at least stand closer to his partner, even though he was enjoying his exploration with no sign of wanting to leave quickly. "I don't think so, no." Skinner touched one of the bars and looked up at the metal roof. "It's not natural. Which means it was worked, probably by the same, uh, things? creatures? people? that made the statues." "This is much bigger, more complex, than the statues. How could anyone build something like this?" Mulder didn't want to look closely at anything, but he couldn't keep his gaze from darting from Skinner to the cage now and again. "I still think this was made the same way, Mulder." He took a step forward, running a hand along the place where the bars joined the floor. "Look. No seams." Of course. Seams would be too simple. "So they can manipulate the metal." Mulder grabbed Skinner's shirt and looked at the floor as his partner walked slowly to the other side, looking around. "Looks that way. And you found a way to manipulate it, too. Not to this extent, but you can read its frequency so the tracers can find it." Skinner's voice was soft, as if he wanted to avoid an echo that wasn't there. "Do you think they could do the same thing?" Mulder couldn't focus on anything other than Skinner's shirt and their feet as they walked. He could feel his mind wanting to slip away, to find someplace safe and very, very far from here. The things McMurray had said, the things no one would say, now this. It was all adding up to something he really didn't want to consider any longer. He wasn't curious anymore. Mulder?" Skinner stopped and turned to face his partner. "Yes, they could." Mulder nodded but kept his gaze focused on Skinner's knee, hoping he wasn't going to remember anything that might get him left there. It couldn't be true! Suddenly he looked up. "Walter, if they can build something like this, that means they have intelligence, doesn't it? They respect their dead, bury belongings with them. They even give them grave markers, with their names and family history on them." It took Mulder a moment to notice the change in Skinner's expression. "What?" "You said they give them grave markers, with names and a family history." Mulder nodded, trying to figure out what had Skinner suddenly looking concerned. "How do you know that? How do you know that's what those scrolls are?" "It says right on the --" Mulder blinked, suddenly realizing what he'd said. He shook his head slowly, trying to search inside his head for more details. Why hadn't he explained that before? Had he just now remembered? He felt dizzy, and swayed in place, grateful when Walter's arm shot out and steadied him. "The scrolls have their names and history written on them. It's for remembering. It's for --" A shot of ice filled Mulder's gut, sending a shiver up his spine. "Walter, this is the birthing place!" "What is? This place?" Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Yes." He nodded, glancing around quickly. They couldn't stay here! "Both clans. They must all live here, in this valley!" Only his paralyzing confusion and Skinner's hand kept him from running headlong down that plateau. "They must be able to go through the mountains! Or they come out through the tunnel." Skinner took a deep breath and looked up for a moment. "Mulder, if they all lived in this bowl, even moving in a straight line, through the ice, it would take them at least a day to reach the station from here. Maybe some of them live here, but --" "No, they all do." Mulder shook his head. He knew he was right, even if it didn't make any sense. He knew it! "I don't know how or why, but I know this is true! It's there, in my mind. Something -- I don't know, I just understand it's true." "OK, take it easy." Skinner put his other hand on Mulder's other shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "I believe you." Mulder looked up, surprised. "You do?" Skinner laughed shortly and nodded. "Yes, I do. I don't quite understand it, but I believe you." He gave Mulder's shoulders a gentle squeeze, then nodded toward the other side of the cage. "Can I finish looking around before we leave?" A nod was all Mulder could manage. He took hold of Skinner's shirt again and followed his partner around the structure, numbly trying to figure out just how long he'd had these memories and where they had come from. "I thought it would come back differently, if it did." "What, your memory?" Skinner reached out and touched the dull gray bar they passed. "I think it's usually pretty quiet, Mulder. You just suddenly have the information again." "But that means I could have it all back, and I just don't know it." Mulder shook his head. He didn't like this at all. Not one bit. "No, I don't think so. Can you tell me why Morgan brought the others here?" He looked up, considering Skinner's question. "No." There was nothing there. "See, it's not all back. I think certain things are triggering something. Maybe the parts that meant the most to you, or you were more involved in personally." And having an entire research station's complement abandon me didn't mean much? "I don't get it." "But you are." Skinner stopped his inspection and looked down at Mulder. "You are getting it. You just have to remember that your truth -- and what they want you to believe -- might be two completely different things." Mulder studied his friend's eyes for a minute. Of all the people he might have found -- had any of them taken him on the way Skinner had -- he was sure he couldn't have found a wiser, more tolerant person than Walter Skinner. "Do you want to check out the hot springs in the basement now? I'm ready to go back." Thoughts of the creatures, loose in the valley, were tearing at his nerves. Skinner smiled, looked down at his own dusty, blood- stained clothes, then agreed. "OK, let's go get cleaned up." As compelling as the huge artifact was, Mulder refused to look back at it as they walked back down the trail, around the rise, down the hill and back toward the caverns. He didn't even want to think, but for some reason he couldn't shut his mind off. They slipped in quietly and made their way down to the caves' lower level. Skinner suggested they shower first, to rid themselves of the dust and dirt, so Mulder grabbed soap and towels from the table outside the showers. They stripped and walked into the spray of warmed water and started to clean off. "He said I was communicating with them." Mulder rubbed soap against his arm until it lathered up. "He said I brought those things inside." "McMurray's a vengeful madman, Mulder. In most respects he's no different than Morgan. They're supposed to test for these kinds of psychological aberrations before admitting anyone into service, but sometimes a few lunatics get through." Skinner leaned into the shower spray and let the foam wash down his chest and legs. "But he made it sound like communicating with those animals was the cause of everything." "Turn around." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and turned him, then used a rag to scrub against the younger man's back. "You did figure out how to communicate, didn't you?" Mulder shrugged. "I guess." Did it really matter now, if he couldn't do it anymore? "It's the markings, isn't it?" Skinner continued to scrub Mulder's back, spreading the foam around. "The way you put the markings on, the medium you use, it all stands for words, or ideas, right?" Mulder looked over his shoulder, back at his partner. "You know all this? How did you --" "No, I'm guessing," Skinner corrected. "Between what you've been remembering, and what we've seen, it seems logical." He pushed Mulder slightly forward so the water would wash away the soap. "Here, I'll do yours." Mulder turned around and motioned for Skinner to do the same and reached for the soap. He willed his thoughts to coast with no clear direction. Concentrating on making the soap foam up against Skinner's smooth skin was the only thing he could manage easily. "I think you figured out some kind of language, probably a mixture of words and symbols. Something that makes the markings animate under moonlight. It's weird, but it makes sense too, seeing as how the creatures mostly come out during the dark cycle." He cocked his head as he spoke. "Of course, we weren't here very long during the time the sun was up so we can't really judge their activity in daylight. And one of them *did* take Borstein." It was like reading one of the novels back at the station. Mulder was struggling to figure out a plot he had written himself. Trying hard to keep up with Skinner, who seemed to follow the path easily enough. It was much easier to think only of the soap bubbling over a muscled shoulder blade. "Maybe I did figure something out." Mulder kept his eyes on his task while he pondered the markings and the parchment skin. "But I obviously failed, then. If I tried to communicate with them, I must have failed." "No, I don't think you did." Mulder shook his head. It was beginning to hurt, and he didn't think there was room inside for another thought, let alone another one of these revelations. He leaned back and let the water rinse Skinner's back, helping some of it down with a hand. A few bubbles seemed to hang up just below his partner's shoulder, so Mulder brushed them off with a finger, seeing the scar for the first time. "What's this?" Surprised, he traced the jagged line of white, then found a few more farther down Skinner's back. Small, thin scars he'd never seen, or taken notice of, before. "Hmm? Oh, nothing special. Spoils of war, as they say." Skinner turned around and stepped backwards, letting the water hit him straight on. "I never thought about war as a hand to hand thing. More guns and bombs than up close stuff." Mulder tossed the rest of the soap aside and pushed soaking wet hair from his face, watching his partner. "It was." Skinner moved out of the spray. "But sometimes hand to hand was unavoidable." He was so casual about it. "You fought up close? Like what you did with McMurray, but with weapons?" "Yeah." Skinner wiped the water from his face. He shrugged. Mulder shook his head in amazement. No wonder he felt so safe around this man. There was still so much he didn't know, couldn't even guess, about Skinner. "So, you could have taken McMurray anytime." "If I had to." He lifted a hand and pointed a finger at Mulder. "Which is why I don't want you pulling one of those stunts again. If he'd been quicker, he could easily have stabbed you when you hit the ground." "Didn't I do it right?" "You did -- that's not the point here." Skinner shook his head. "Look, I know perfectly well you're very capable of taking care of yourself. But an actual fight takes skill and practice." "So, you'll teach me?" Mulder tried to hold Skinner's gaze. He had no idea how to manipulate anyone, and he didn't think he ever could if he did, but his partner's face was showing signs of an internal struggle. Skinner sighed deeply, then shook his head once and looked away. After a silence so long Mulder began to worry, he finally turned and looked down. "First thing you have to learn is never to drop your guard." He was too used to Skinner grabbing his arm to realize he was being tossed into the pool of steaming water until he broke the surface with a heavy splash. Mulder rose up, spluttering, in time to see Skinner enter the water beside him, robbing him of any chance to pull his partner off the rock. When he came back up, Skinner was laughing. "OK, I deserved that," Mulder admitted, smiling. "Yes, you did." Skinner turned and found a spot to sit, leaning back with a hedonistic moan. They both soaked until they threatened to prune permanently, then rose from the water reluctantly. They toweled off, then helped themselves to clean clothes from the surplus stored in one of the small niches along the cavern's wall. Mulder wasn't aware of how relaxed he'd become until they climbed the stairs and could see the main cavern and people again. Those last few hours of rest and relaxation had afforded his tired mind and nerves the rest they badly needed. But now they were back. *************************************** Thankfully, Skinner made no attempts to stop anywhere or speak with anyone. He led the way straight back up to their cave where they found even more new items spread around the room. It was beginning to look less and less like a cave, and more like a brightly colored, many-pillowed residence. "This is ridiculous." Mulder ignored the piles of blankets, cloth, clothes and pillows. He walked straight to his sleeping-pallet and sat down, shedding the pack as he went. "Why do they keep doing this? Are we supposed to thank them or something?" Skinner shook his head and looked up, opening his mouth to answer. Before he could, Healer suddenly appeared in their doorway, smiling at them both. "It's their way. They're making offerings." Mulder glared at the old man. He was so not in the mood right now. "I thought they were afraid of me?" "They're hoping you'll forgive them, that's all." Healer shrugged, then pulled a small box from under his robes. "I need you to have this." Skinner stepped forward, blocking Healer's full view of Mulder, and took the box. "What is it?" "It's for him." Healer pointed at Mulder but looked at Skinner. "He'll may need it soon. Just don't let them find out." Skinner glanced back at Mulder, then looked down at the box in his hand. When he looked up again, both men realized Healer was gone. "What is it?" Mulder waited until Skinner had stepped into the walkway, making sure Healer was really gone before he got up and approached his partner. "I don't know." Skinner handed over the box. It was ornate metal, intricately painted and held shut with a gold and leather clasp. Mulder looked at it, then decided there was no reason why he should remember it. He did recall seeing it in Healer's room, though. Cautiously, he unclasped the lock and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled carefully in a soft black foam, was an unmarked parchment scroll made of the skin, and a razor-sharp metal stylus. "This used to be mine." Mulder let the box fall to one of the many pillows on the floor as he pulled out the stylus. It was bigger than a standard pen, fatter and seemed to be hollow, as if it could draw up liquid through the tip. "I know this ... I used it to ..." He looked up at Skinner, eyebrows creased. "They took it?" "Looks that way." Skinner glanced at the cylinder in Mulder's right hand, then lifted the rolled parchment. "This one's different than the others." Mulder nodded. "It's waiting. When the time comes, it will be ready to receive the lineage of the new one." He rolled the stylus in his hand around, enjoying the familiar feel and weight. "This can score the metal, too. If you have the right medium. It's easy to use." "These things must be taboo here." Skinner walked back to the beds and sat down, emptying his pockets. "I can't believe after all this time Healer suddenly thinks he'll be caught with it. He must have wanted you to have it for a reason." "Why?" Mulder gently dropped the tool from his hand onto the bed. It wasn't very delicate, and didn't need the box. But for mobility, he'd want to wrap it in something easier to carry. "I think ... " Skinner pushed himself back on the sleeping-pallet and leaned against the curtain that now hid the rock wall. "I'm still guessing here, but I think they're hoping you can save them." "What?" Incredulous, Mulder stared at his friend. Had McMurray hit Skinner in the head harder than he first thought? Skinner raised both hands. "Just ... hear me out. It makes sense, considering." Mulder moved the stylus and sat down, facing his partner. "OK, hypothetically speaking. What if you did find a way to communicate with those creatures? What if you were trying to speak to them, but the general sense of fear around the station had already grown too strong? It's easy to get a group of people worked up into a frenzy when faced with something like that. You saw how it nearly happened with the second group right after the first attack." Mulder continued to stare at Skinner, completely ignorant of where he was going with this. Surely the man was grasping. "That kind of fear is also the perfect opportunity for someone like Morgan to take control. If he convinced everyone that your ideas of communicating with the creatures would end up getting them all killed, he could easily sway them into following him as their only hope of survival. Like McMurray attempted with the new group." It was too much of a stretch. Mulder shook his head. "Even if that could possibly be true -- which it can't be -- why would they leave the station? I mean, why come here when they could have just killed me -- or whatever -- and been perfectly safe?" Skinner had to see the many flaws in his logic. Imagine, him arguing in favor of the monsters! "I haven't figured that part out yet." Skinner shrugged. "But the rest of it, I'm pretty convinced of." "Based on what?" Mulder leaned forward and pulled his legs up on the bed, crossing them so he could rest both elbows on his thighs. Skinner sat up and turned more to face him. "You knew what those parchment scrolls by each skin were, even if you weren't consciously aware of it at the time. You knew the statues held some kind of clue, and that clue was the markings that show in subtle light. Markings like those on the scrolls. These people treat you like some kind of icon they're both afraid of and desperate to be accepted by." Mulder shook his head, but continued to listen to Skinner's theories. Any second now, Norton would come in and tell them everything, like he promised. Then they'd know. "These people aren't allowed to have any of the artifacts from the creatures, probably because you'd figured out how to communicate using them, or making your own somehow. Morgan most likely used his fear of that discovery and turned it into a danger to be avoided at all costs. Punishable by death." "But that doesn't make sense. If you're right, and the scrolls are the clue to how to talk to those things, then why would they ban them?" "Because someone might be successful. Hell, I'd be willing to bet you were successful. And that would ruin Morgan's little empire." Mulder laughed shortly. It was incredible. Like a novel, only with a very twisted, mistaken plot. Skinner paused, waiting until Mulder met his gaze. "You're smart, Mulder. Smart enough to have figured out how to communicate with an alien race bent on destroying everything that moves." "Oh, man." It was too hard to comprehend. Mulder stood and paced the room a few feet. "If I'm so smart, how come I failed? How come I can't remember anything?" "You didn't fail, you were outgunned." Skinner stood. "And then something happened, something that took all this from you. Someone changed the files, and messed with your memory, and left you alone all this time." "Why?" Mulder stopped his pacing and looked at Skinner. It was something he'd thought before, deep down inside. Something he couldn't fathom the reason for, so he'd assumed it was wrong. "Possibly to protect you. If who I think is responsible for this, really is, then it wouldn't be the first time he's acted in your interest. In his own warped, twisted way, he may have thought he was protecting you by stealing the truth." God, it was too incredible to be true! "The people here exhibit a behavior common to that of some other groups I've read about. Groups who shunned society to follow a cult leader, then found that leader out to be fake." "Morgan's a fake? Now that part I understand." Mulder smiled, trying to lighten the strange situation. "But I still don't understand why they left, and left me there?" Skinner shrugged, but before he could reply, they saw a shadow move in the doorway. "Morgan has requested you join him for dinner." Both Skinner and Mulder stared at the man looking in at them, one of Morgan's guards. "Thanks, we'll consider it." Skinner started to turn away. "I'm here to show you the way." The guard stepped sideways and pointed down the walkway. "In case you've forgotten." "What do we do?" Mulder looked at his partner. "Get some answers." Skinner nodded to the guard, then reached out and draped an arm over Mulder's shoulders. The guard waited patiently, not looking at them again. Mulder sighed, then retrieved the statue Skinner had dropped on the bed when he emptied his pockets. After passing it over as surreptitiously as he could, he reluctantly allowed Skinner to lead him out of their cave, following the guard. They reached Morgan's chamber and the guard left them standing alone in the center of the brightly decorated cave. "What are you going to ask him?" Mulder watched Skinner as he looked around the room, keeping within a quick two steps of his partner. "Everything." Skinner turned to face Mulder, then looked up as someone entered the room from a side tunnel. "Ah, you've arrived." Morgan entered carrying a tray filled with meat and bread. "Please, sit, make yourselves comfortable." He set the tray down on a long, low table lined with large pillows, then waved a hand at the two on the opposite side. "I understand you've had a look around our valley." Mulder swallowed hard to moisten a suddenly dry throat. His blood had turned to ice the instant Morgan entered the room, but now it was beginning to thaw toward disgust. Skinner moved to the table, so he followed, staying close. He lifted a pitcher from the table, held it to his nose, and sniffed. "Ah, you don't trust me, do you?" Morgan grinned, then sat down and poured a dark red liquid from the jug into three cups. "Should I?" Mulder nodded to Skinner, then turned away, refusing to sit down. Morgan shook his head, laughing. "No, I don't suppose you should." He handed a cup to Skinner, who took a seat facing him. "But you, Skinner, there's no reason why you shouldn't." "And still no reason why I should." Skinner accepted the cup, then set it down without tasting the contents. "Good battle strategy, I suppose." Morgan raised his glass, then looked up at Mulder. "Aren't you going to join us?" Mulder kept himself from commenting. He looked at Skinner, then walked past the table to the wide, uncurtained entrance to the cave. From that height, he could see the cavern below with all its people and activities. "He eats when he's hungry." "I take that to means he eats when the company he's with is acceptable?" "That's one way of putting it." "Well, Skinner, do help yourself. I'm sure you'll find it all edible and safe." Mulder listened to the men, but kept his eyes on the cavern, watching the people move purposefully about their assigned tasks. There was a peacefulness here, a gentle quality. But he couldn't help thinking it hid something sinister. "I've seen your people, your life. You obviously live a quiet, settled life here." "Thank you, Skinner." "But one thing I don't understand." "Oh?" "Why do your people chose to drug themselves?" "Well, there's no accounting for tastes, is there? I certainly don't encourage it in the least, but some of them do like to recreate now and again. Drugs have always been a problem in societies, haven't they?" "They're usually a sign of a deeper problem." "Oh? Here, try this bread, it's superb. I wasn't aware you were such a specialist in the study of societies. Tell me, how many self-contained worlds have you been to?" "None other than this. But problems exist in societies of all kinds. The drug war has been raging for years." "Yes. War. That would be a sign of a deeper problem, wouldn't it?" Mulder sighed and shook his head slightly, not wanting to turn around to see Morgan. He hated that man more with every word he said, every truth he avoided. Only Skinner could handle this mess, he was sure. If left alone, he'd either kill Morgan with his bare hands, or jump from this ledge. Either way, he was glad to have Skinner in charge. "I still don't understand why you left the station. Why leave all the complex had to offer, for these caves?" "Science." Mulder turned then, looking at Skinner with a puzzled expression. All he saw of Morgan was the man's back, and he had to stop imagining claws digging into that white robe. "It's as simple as that, really. We came here to study those creatures. We've made breakthroughs actually, by being here, where they live." A chill ran up Mulder's spine, but he held himself in check. He'd already told Skinner the clans met at the birthing place. How he knew, he didn't know. "We've learned how they behave, how they think. We've discovered, through careful study and observation, their eating habits, mating habits, lifestyles. We know how to avoid being injured by them; we can even train them in some respects." "You lie." Mulder spoke quietly, but his words carried in the still air. "They don't mate, not like us. And they can't be trained." "Ahhh ... He remembers more and more." Mulder watched Skinner's reactions, marveling in the way his partner took it all in without the display of shock or horror that he was feeling. "Why here? And why leave all of your equipment back at the station? Don't you need that to make accurate, scientific measurements? I thought that's what it was all for?" Morgan laughed, shaking his head. "When you're studying something that fits into the conventional ideals, then conventional methods will work, yes. But they didn't apply here. Not in this place." "Why did you leave me behind? Why did everyone here think I was dead?!" Mulder couldn't hold it in any longer. He stormed forward, but stepped around the table to stand behind Skinner, facing Morgan. "You tried to kill me, didn't you? You tried to kill me and left me there, thinking you'd won!" "I had to save our people!" Morgan burst to his feet, tossing his cup aside. "You and that damned dream of yours were going to get us all killed!" Skinner was on his feet seconds before Morgan. "Just calm down!" He raised a hand toward the man. "Is that true?" Morgan cleared his throat and tugged at his robes, trying to regain some composure. Two of his guards had rushed the doorway, but he waved them back out. After a moment, he looked at Skinner again, avoiding Mulder's gaze. "Mulder here wanted to make peace. Can you imagine that? Make peace with an animal." He laughed shortly and shook his head once. "Those animals killed most of our people. Slaughtered them like cattle. They ate every last piece of every man and woman they could reach." Mulder felt his blood begin to boil. Skinner took hold of his wrist, gently. "They're not animals!" "Because of him!" Morgan pointed a finger at Mulder and his face flushed red. "Because of some insane revelation, he decides he's going to make peace!" His heart was pounding in his chest again, so strongly he couldn't imagine Skinner not hearing it. "We had a fight, I admit. It was the night we'd -- they'd -- decided I was right. They were making an exodus as quickly as they could. I tried to talk him into coming, but he refused." Morgan shrugged. "We fought, and Mulder went down." "So you left him there to die?" Skinner's voice was ice cold, and it cooled some of the fire in Mulder's gut. "I left him in the med lab. It's the safest place in the station." "Why did you leave?" It surprised Mulder to find his voice was under control. "You want the truth? The system -- your system -- opened all the doors, wouldn't let us shut them, wouldn't let us lock down. Manual overrides wouldn't work, and the generators were running." Mulder blinked, straightening up slightly. "That's right. Whatever modifications you had made to the security system, it wouldn't let us lock down without your command code. You left us open to those things, vulnerable to attack." It made no sense. Yet, it made perfect sense. Mulder's head was beginning to swim as pieces of the puzzle demanded to be snapped into place. "You can't even remember that, can you?" Morgan glared at Mulder. "You concocted that whole language, you programmed the system. Hell, for all I knew, you had a preprogrammed message to call your new friends, knowing they'd kill every last one of us. Unless I could wake you up, get the codes, we had to leave. And I couldn't do that without confessing to attacking you." "And you couldn't very well do that, could you?" Skinner glared back. "That would have ruined your empire." Morgan straightened up, adjusting his collar. His eyelids narrowed as he looked at both men. "We thrive here. We've studied these creatures and learned how to live with and around them. I'd say that's quite a bit of progress." A slow smile crept over his face and he turned, walking to the wall. "I gather, from what McMurray has told me, and Mulder's lack of recall, that you don't know what's at stake here. You don't know what these things are, what they mean." "We're learning. The group I came with has survived since the first attack and we're doing quite well, actually. It's amazing what you can do with batteries and conservation." Morgan turned. "Batteries? I see." He motioned for them to join him near the back passage from his chamber. "So, you don't realize the generators -- the vibrations -- are only a trigger for the feeding frenzy?" Mulder froze. Skinner's hand on his wrist was the only warmth he could feel any more. What other horrors did his memory continue to hide? Skinner let go of his wrist and put that hand on his shoulder momentarily, motioning for him to stay where he was. He gladly obeyed. "It took us only a few weeks to figure it out." Morgan turned back to stare down the short passage and out at the valley while Skinner walked up to join him. "Of course, we're safe here. Perfectly safe. That's another thing we learned quickly. If you simplify your lifestyle, get rid of all the unnecessary equipment, stay inside when they hunt; and if they have plenty of food to eat -- we raise their food, you know -- you're perfectly safe inside." Mulder watched Skinner reach the passage and look out. He felt completely frozen in place. "They feed in cycles. And they have food here. It takes them a long time to wander over to where the station is, which is why we only saw them during that time. All other nights, they simply aren't hungry, so they don't bother anyone." Oh God! Oh God, oh God. He knew what was out in the valley now. He knew! They were out there, all around the valley. They came out, all the time. You'd never see them unless they were hungry, but they were always there, watching! "Walter." His voice was a million yards away, quiet even to his ears. But somehow his partner heard him. Skinner spun away from the ledge and Morgan began to laugh. "There's much you don't know, Skinner. Much he'll never tell you." Mulder wanted to wait until Skinner was beside him, but the ice holding his feet to the floor finally broke free, and he bolted out of the room, pushed past the guards, and ran as quickly as he could away from the laughter, away from the terror inside his head. "Mulder!" Skinner was right behind him, close enough to trip on his heels, so he kept running, following the path he prayed was the right one. These caves and tunnels were a maze, and he'd only seen them from beside his friend. "Left!" Skinner's direction came at a fork, and Mulder obeyed instantly. Before he realized it, they were both back in their room. That's when the shivering began. "I want to go home!" God, he was cold! Mulder paced to the fire, then around it to grab a habitat just as Skinner reached for one. "I want to go home!" "We'll be fine, hang on. I'll get the shield up, go stand by the fire." Skinner pushed him toward the warmth of the flames while he checked the charges on their shield. Mulder moved closer to the fire, but it didn't feel warm at all. Even the sweatshirt wasn't warming him. The very blood in his veins had turned to ice! He'd never felt cold like this before, not even that night under the shield. "I can't get warm." His teeth chattered around the sentence awkwardly. "What happened?" Mulder looked up instantly and found Healer standing in the doorway. Skinner hadn't turned on the shield yet. He couldn't take this anymore! Couldn't they see he just wanted to go home? It didn't matter what he'd done before, or what they were doing now. He didn't care! "Nothing, we're fine." Skinner set the shield down, but couldn't turn it on with Healer standing in the doorway. He moved to Mulder, then past him to the sleeping-pallet where he grabbed one of the blankets. "Mulder, wrap up in this. Sit down." He did as he was told, staring at the fire to will it warmer. Skinner stepped behind him and he heard another blanket being pulled from the bed. "He's in shock." Healer rushed over, and before Mulder could pull away, laid a hand on his forehead. "He'll be fine." Skinner's hand came around from behind him and pushed Healer's away. "He just needs rest." Healer stood, shaking his head. "Damn him!" He paced to the doorway, then back again. "I was afraid this would happen. I'd hoped -- but I had no right to." Mulder had watched the old man pace their room, hoping he was leaving. He couldn't get warm, and he was starting to feel more detached. Another weight came around his shoulders as Skinner added yet another blanket to the ones already around him. "Please, you have to believe none of us ever wanted this." "Nevertheless, what's done is done." Skinner stood, facing Healer, and Mulder hoped he was going to toss the old man out. "Yes. But what's done can still be repaired." Healer moved to the door finally, then looked at Skinner. "Keep him warm. Get him to eat if you can, warm broth. But keep him warm." He looked down at Mulder. "You are safe in here, that I can assure you. They've been domesticated." With that, the old man left and Skinner pulled their curtain over the doorway, then turned on the shield. After checking that current touched the entryway, sealing them in, he returned to the fire and sat close. Mulder couldn't stop shivering. "What did he mean, domesticated?" His words chattered out. It was a wonder he couldn't see his breath steaming up, but then he realized he was the only one who was cold. Skinner pulled several pillows closer, bracing them behind him against the sleeping-pallet. When he was comfortable, he reached out and pulled Mulder closer, draping yet another blanket over them both. "Just rest, Mulder. We'll find that tunnel tomorrow and get the hell out of here." Mulder burrowed under the covers willingly, accepting the added body heat. With his face pressed up against Skinner's chest and blankets covering him from head to toe, the worst of the chill began to dull and fade. A sudden exhaustion came over him then, and he closed his eyes. "What did he mean, they've been domesticated?" His words no longer chattered out, but were somewhat muffled against his friend's chest. "I think he meant these people." Skinner adjusted his position slightly and rubbed his hand over Mulder's shoulder, warming them both up. "I think the creatures have domesticated *them.*" ********************** Iced 12/15 Skinner sighed and opened his eyes. He wanted to stretch badly, but his friend was still soundly asleep, pressed against his stomach. With heat from the fire and the pressure of Mulder and three blankets, he'd grown quite warm. At least Mulder's chill had finally subsided. He'd been worried for a time. The shock of that evening's discovery in Morgan's room hit hard. So hard, Skinner had come close to asking Healer to stay. The man had been a doctor, after all. Still was, by all rights. But something about that man bothered Skinner in an unusual way. The way Healer looked at Mulder, almost paternally, set all the hairs on the back of Skinner's neck straight up. He wasn't his agent's father, and he'd abandoned him just as quickly as all the others. He had no right to make such presumptions. None of them did. Mulder sighed in his sleep and moved his head, burrowing further into the covers around his face. Skinner laid a hand on his friend's forehead, relieved to find no fever. If he wanted to, he could probably get up and replace his lap with one of the many pillows in the cave and not be missed. But an adjustment of his shoulders against the stack he was leaning back on renewed his comfort. It was early still, he could sense it. Probably hours before the people would be up and the day's activities begun. Skinner gazed at the dancing blue of the electric current that was protecting them from unwanted intrusion. The curtain on the other side was open, pulled back against the rock wall. He stared at the corridor beyond the shimmering blue. After Healer left, he was sure he'd closed the curtain. No matter, really. If some of these people saw their shield, there wasn't anything they could do about it. If they'd wanted to steal it, they would have by now. Still, he was sure he'd closed the curtain. Skinner glanced down at the sleeping face in his lap, then from the corner of one eye noticed a change in the lighting. He looked up, trying to locate the source of the change. In the hallway, another light flickered, then went out. Someone was putting out the candles lining the corridor outside their cave. Puzzled, Skinner continued to watch the area grow darker. The blue of the shield intensified in color against the black background. Whoever was coming wasn't going to get inside. Mulder moved again, eyebrows creasing in a dream. Skinner reached down and moved a section of long, damp hair that fell into his friend's face. When he looked up at the doorway again, his hand froze in place, partially tangled in Mulder's hair. The face gazing back at him was familiar, as far as nightmares go. The body, huge and black, filled the entire entryway as the creature stood on its hind legs, clawed hands extended out to each side. Large, white teeth scraped against the blue shield once, sending a shower of sparks over its massive black head. After the one attempt, the creature stopped biting at the electric current and stood there, staring in at them. Skinner could feel his heart racing in his chest. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and back. He knew the shield would hold as it had before. But how had it found them? Morgan said they were all safe inside. No generators, lots of light. But the shield was humming, and the fires and candles, they'd ... They'd been put out! Someone had put out the lights in their hallway. Was there a trail of darkness, leading in from outside? Had someone beckoned this animal in to kill them? To kill Mulder? The dark creature cocked its head to one side, staring in at them calmly. Skinner stared back at it, curious despite the danger. As long as Mulder didn't wake up, and their shield held, they were safe. Carefully, he slid out from under his partner, easing a pillow in his place for Mulder to rest his head on. The creature watched his every move with equal interest. Skinner stepped aside, slowly moving around the fire. Then he stopped, staring at the flickering orange and yellow flames, the red embers. Why hadn't this light bothered the animal? How was it the creatures could be kept at bay with candles and firepots, and yet this one was staring in at the flames with no apparent difficulty? Skinner looked up again, narrowing his eyes toward the blue shield. The creature wasn't there. The animal had gone, soundlessly, in the few seconds he'd been staring at the fire. Puzzled, he walked to the doorway and peered through the blue energy wall. It was nowhere to be seen, and the candles were lit again, illuminating the tunnels. He turned back, shaking his head. Oh God! It was there, sitting on the bed looking down at Mulder. Skinner froze in place. His feet felt as if they'd become part of the rock floor. When he opened his mouth to shout, nothing came out. Helpless, he watched as the animal reached a large, clawed hand down toward Mulder who still slept quietly in the blankets. Skinner couldn't even close his eyes, dreading the sight he feared would come. But the claw didn't tear into his friend. The creature wasn't ripping his flesh apart or even moving forward to eat its prey. Instead, it touched Mulder's hair, gently pushing it from his face. With concentrated effort, Skinner managed to move one hand. But instead of reaching for Mulder, he reached down to feel for the statue in his pants pocket. It wasn't there. Panicked, he looked at the ground and found the small sculpture on the ground, his pocket torn and dirtied. Immediately he looked up again and saw the black monster snarl at him with shimmering white teeth. It roared, extending both muscular arms, then leapt from the sleeping-pallet straight at Skinner's throat. "What?" "I said I'm hot." Startled and sweating, Skinner shot a glance around the room. A dream? Nightmare, more like it. He was still sitting down, Mulder in his lap. There was no creature in their room, no black death lunging for his unprotected throat. The curtain still hid their shield and covered the doorway. "Are you OK?" Mulder pushed himself up, shrugging one of the quilts off his shoulders. "Yeah." Skinner nodded and straightened up, running a hand over his sweat-covered face. "I got a little warm there, too." He shrugged off the last vestiges of nightmare, then looked more closely at Mulder. "How do you feel?" "Tired." Mulder sighed, pushing hair from his face. "But I'm warm now. Thanks." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's forehead, then nodded. "Get out of those clothes so you don't catch a real chill, then get some more sleep. It's still early." Groggily, Mulder stood and shrugged out of his clothes, tossing them aside, then wrapped one of the blankets around himself and curled up on the bed. "Are you going back to sleep?" "Yeah, probably in a bit." Skinner moved some of the pillows out of the way and traded them for a few that hadn't been compressed by his weight. He glanced at Mulder and found eyes fighting to stay open. "Get some rest. I'll join you in a bit." Mulder nodded, but his eyes remained half open, watching Skinner. "You saw them, didn't you?" Kneeling on some pillows brought him almost eye level with his partner. "Yes, I did." His jaw clenched for an instant, remembering the sight of the large black body hovering over his friend, dark silhouette against the rock wall. "Don't think about it, just get some sleep." He tossed the other blanket on the empty bed. "We're safe in here." Mulder nodded and adjusted the blanket over his shoulders. "Norton never came." Before Skinner could answer, Mulder fell asleep. With a sigh, he turned back to the fire and arranged a few more pillows to get comfortable on. He'd already slept several hours, and the morning call for breakfast should be -- Skinner picked up the pants Mulder had discarded and searched the pockets for his watch -- in two more hours. With that much time, he'd be better off keeping their shield up. The low hum and soft blue glow probably kept Mulder sleeping soundly, and the younger man needed to feel as safe as he could for as long as possible. Finding the tunnel that led them into this mess wasn't going to be easy, especially if travel through it was forbidden. And so far they hadn't seen any sign of it. If they hoped to get out of here in one piece -- with or without any of the people here -- they had some careful planning ahead. And he had some thinking to do. The odd metal, the statues, the scrolls and the stylus, even the method of Mulder's abandonment -- if not the reason -- were beginning to fall into place, even though some of them still didn't make a lot of sense. It was still too hard to understand how so many people could follow that madman and leave one man behind alone. Skinner could never forgive any of these people for that. But they hadn't committed any particular crime that he knew of. Except Morgan. He was just as guilty of leaving Mulder to die as McMurray had been. And even by his own admission had been the cause of the injury in the first place. It would be helpful to have access to the world about now. There was at least one man that he would dearly love to talk to, to ask a few questions. Why was Mulder here to begin with? What had been done to him before he came? How surprised had they been when Morgan assumed control and swayed the entire complement to follow him? And were the ones that brought him here in the first place aware of the injury that had been done to him -- the effect it had on his memory? Was that why they, too, had abandoned him? Because he was no longer useful, no longer able to fulfill his purpose of communicating with these things? Skinner sighed and ran a hand over his face, glancing at his partner. It was hard to tell how these new revelations were affecting him, aside from his predictable reaction when they realized the creatures didn't just come out to feed. That they could be out and around, observing, at any time. That had been a shock to Skinner as well. All those times he'd spent outside under the stars and the moon, trying to acclimate Mulder to the dark and the night sky. All those times, assuming they were safe outside because it wasn't the time of their cycle, the machines weren't running. All those faulty assumptions, leading to the faultiest of all -- that they were safe. But they had been. No one had ever been attacked on those nights. Only when they ran the generators. Only every other week. So, if they were out every night, chances were they'd gotten curious and spent time watching the group. If they had curiosity. It certainly seemed to him that time under the shield that they were very curious indeed. Intelligent enough to maintain a graveyard, with the language skills required to create grave markers. Yet animal enough to treat the humans they'd been watching as cattle when their appetite kicked in and they went into a feeding frenzy. It was no wonder Mulder maintained his fear of them. That emotion must have been stronger than the memory of communicating with them. Perhaps he'd only just begun to be successful when Morgan staged his mutiny? Even so, if what they were saying and Mulder was remembering was true, then he'd managed something man had been hoping to accomplish for centuries: communication with an alien race. But what the hell were sentient aliens doing at the South Pole? Mulder was right. It was a lot to take in all at once. Skinner checked the time again, then got up and walked to the shield. The charge was down another ten percent, so he opted to shut it off. He put the habitats away, then walked back to the door and pushed the curtain aside for a glance down the corridor. Just as he turned to step back inside, he caught movement at the far end. "How is he?" Healer greeted Skinner with a worried expression. "Sleeping." Skinner remained in the doorway, blocking the man's view. "It's a bit early." Healer nodded, wringing both hands in front of his robes. "Yes, yes. My apologies. But I came to ask you if you found it?" "Found what?" Healer rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Unfortunately we're all clear-headed now. I've suggested to everyone we wake ourselves up, now that he's here. But the effects are long lasting." He sighed and shook his head, looking at Skinner again. "I did leave you a map, though, didn't I? It's hard to think through the headache of sobriety." "That was you?" Skinner's eyebrows creased momentarily as he mentally switched gears. He'd just assumed it had been Norton, but the map hadn't been signed. Why had he thought that? "Come inside, just don't wake him up." He stepped aside and let Healer enter the cave. Mulder still slept soundly, burrowed under a big quilt. Skinner waved to a stack of pillows farthest away from his partner, near the fire. He kept his voice low. "And what is your name again? I refuse to continue to call you 'Healer,' as if you were some character out of the middle ages." The old man swallowed, then looked around nervously. "Earnest Houston. I'm a -- I was -- an internist." Skinner studied the man then said with a nod, "Doctor. We found the map, and the place you marked, on the plateau." Houston nodded several times, quickly. His gaze wandered to Mulder's sleeping form, then settled on Skinner. "He knew what it was? I didn't know if he would." "He's never been here before, has he?" "No. As far as I'm aware, he had no idea Morgan had found this place. Mulder never strayed far. There was so much to keep his interest all around him as it was. It was, after all, what he'd been searching for his whole life. Or, at least a large portion of it." Skinner repositioned himself on the pillows, leaning forward slightly. Maybe he was finally going to get some answers? If he understood clear-headed to mean these people were no longer taking the sedative in everything they ate, maybe they'd start making some sense. "Why did you all follow that madman and leave Mulder behind?" Houston's gaze darted to the fire. He stared at the flames and sighed deeply. "I used to play it all over in my head, asking that same question." He looked up again. "Mulder was born color blind. Was that in his records?" The question surprised him. "No, I don't think so." Skinner tried to recall the medical records he'd scanned on the journey down. "That's not that rare condition." A little odd for an FBI field agent, but he wasn't going to voice that comment. He looked at his friend with a mixture of irritation and admiration. How the hell did you pull that one off, Mulder? "Yes. Well, it doesn't really impact a person's life. But in this case, it seems to have been critical." Houston looked again at Mulder and shook his head. "He is so incredibly brilliant. But not in a practical sense. His abilities are wasted in the FBI." Skinner tried to suppress his irritation. As interested in Mulder's life as he was, he didn't think this man was the best source of such personal information. "And this relates how?" "It was the children." Houston's attention returned to Skinner. "Less than a month after our arrival, the first child appeared. We were as cut off as I assume you are. Our pilot was one of the first one's killed, and the back up pilot with him. So when the child appeared, we just took her in, the group taking responsibility for her care, as we did with all of the children. Mulder appeared in the same way, just showed up on the snow one day and we brought him in. He was angry at first, raging about the people who had taken him, but he calmed down when he saw the girl. He seemed to know her." The old man sighed. "Mulder was the one who realized the children were -- different. But he didn't tell anyone but me at first. Had me look for an anomaly in their blood, something he called 'branched DNA.' And sure enough, it was there in each one of them." He paused a moment, then added, "And in him." "Mulder?" The doctor nodded. "He said it was the result of something that had happened to him in Alaska, an encounter of some kind. The attacks had started by then, and he swore he had an idea about what was happening. Swore he needed to find a way to communicate. There was a bitter struggle for control, him and Morgan, but he altered the computer system somehow, made it respond to him alone. Something none of us knew until later." He sighed, and his eyes seemed to lose focus in reflection. "He didn't realize it would make us completely vulnerable if something happened to him." Skinner ground his teeth together, imagining the good intentions of his wayward agent. "What does that have to do with your group leaving him behind?" "Mulder's vision, what he sees and doesn't see. It seems to be linked to how he figured out the language." The doctor looked up again, meeting Skinner's gaze. "I don't think he understood it at first. Morgan brought back one of the skins, and the things that had been left with it. And Mulder could see markings on it. He could see symbols on the parchment. Because he perceives colors differently than you or I. Or anyone else for that matter. I don't think his color-blindness is as typical as most people's. To Mulder, the colors he can see seem to be more real, more individual. It's not simply part of a thing or its description, but a thing unto itself." Houston suddenly raised a hand to his lower lip and gazed at the wall for a moment, thinking. "Of course, I suspect this has something to do with what they did do him, before he was brought here. I wasn't part of that, you understand," he hastened to add, "but he seems to see things in far more vivid detail than we do." He paused again. "He claims to see the symbols move." "They do move. I've seen it." The old man nodded, happy to have his point understood. "Then you know? How hard it is for you and me to see? But Mulder can see them as plainly as if they were bright yellow against a black sky." He smiled almost sadly. "He can even see multiple colors where you and I would see only one." "The man has many talents." Skinner felt himself growing impatient. "But that doesn't answer the question." "It came to him one night, in a burst of excitement. I remember. He was in my office, working on the computer again. Years of fervent study, generations of scientists hoping for the chance to make such a discovery, and this *civilian* figures it out staring at a piece of dead skin under a soft light. He didn't even have a Rosetta stone." Skinner fought the urge to reach down the physician's throat and pull out the answer. He didn't want Mulder to wake up. Houston inhaled slowly and deeply. A determined resolution crossed his face and he looked at the fire. "Mulder wasn't able to explain it all, he had no words for the language he'd figured out. But watching those creatures at night -- seeing them merge and blend with one another, seeing the symbols appear on their chests -- he just knew. Somehow. And out of his brilliance and determination, he came up with a language." He held out his hands, empty, and looked at them. "Morgan actually managed to kill one once. The blood ... the blood, it was green. And poisonous. But not to Mulder. He managed to gather it up, and ... " Houston lowered his hands and shook his head slowly. "Some of us wanted to believe he could do it, could communicate with the creatures. But the others ... the others were too afraid by then." "Did he do it?" Skinner knew the answer before he asked the question, but for once, he wanted to hear one of these people confess it. Houston nodded. "He said he'd figured out how they were trying to communicate with us all this time. Trying to make us understand. Only the big ones. The small ones weren't developed far enough for communication. But the big ones, they could break from the frenzy, they had some element of control. They'd flash those symbols, make those sounds -- it's a combination of sound and movement - but when we didn't respond, they'd assume we weren't sentient and they would attack. One night, a month or so after he started working on his language, he simply walked outside ... right up to one of them ... and started 'talking.'" Skinner looked at the sleeping man with a new admiration. That was so like the Mulder of old, the man who would let nothing stand in the way of his goal. But talking to this man, this decimated old doctor ... It was like pulling teeth in slow motion, with no anesthetic. "Three of those creatures gathered around him, so from the monitors we couldn't see what they were doing. But they sat there for about ten hours." Houston looked up at Skinner, eyebrows pulled together. "He communicated with them." It was as if the man still didn't believe what he'd seen. "That man marched outside, and communicated with them. He did it every night after that, and begged us to join him, to learn the language. They were intelligent. Sentient life. Something mankind has dreamed of finding for hundreds of years." "Then why did you leave?" Skinner had to force the calm in his voice. "Why didn't you learn?" Houston sighed and shook his head again. "We didn't understand. By then, the fear and paranoia were too much. Each time one of us was outside during the cycle, even after Mulder had established his language with the animals, they'd attack and kill. Even after he'd communicated with them, they still used us as food, attacking anything outside during their feeding hours." He stopped suddenly, swallowing several times. "Even ... even when he went out with them." "What do you mean?" "One night, Mulder was outside during the cycle. The small ones were bringing the little balls of fur that they eat, and they were devouring them. He was talking with the big one, the one that made him the sculpture. They were sitting there, doing whatever it was they did to communicate, and one of the other men walked outside. He was a technician, not one of the scientists. And he wanted to see them. He wanted -- he just wanted to touch one, I think. But he ... the animal saw him coming, and for a minute or two it sat there, watching this man walk toward it. It waved its arms, and made a sound, but Vernon didn't react to it, he just kept coming. Then he -- it -- it lunged into the air, screaming like they do. Mulder shouted for Vernon to go back inside, but he didn't. He ... it was over so quickly." Skinner's jaw clamped down tightly, almost painfully. "What happened then?" The doctor looked shaken. "Mulder had tried to warn everyone to stay inside if they weren't going to communicate. Something about these animals changed if you weren't connecting with them. Vernon didn't listen. And Morgan used that as the leverage he needed." "To build his empire." "Yes. Only he didn't count on Mulder's programming skills. Morgan tried to kill him, I couldn't stop that. They fought. Mulder was hurt, badly. A terrible head injury. We all thought he'd been killed. But there wasn't time to sort things out. I'm still not sure how, but the doors were locked open, and the generators were on. It was one of their cycles. Some of the people tried to break the door locks, others tried to destroy the computer, but there wasn't time. So, we left." The old physician closed his eyes for a moment. "It was a panic. A mass exodus. Morgan had already found this place, so we all came here." "So you came here, and stayed. No one tried to go back? No one attempted to make contact with Mulder again? You just stayed here and started drugging yourselves to ease the guilt?" "I'm not a proud man, Skinner. Nor a brave one." Houston met Skinner's gaze squarely. "A man like you wouldn't understand. We were frightened. Foolish. We ran from that young man's discovery because we couldn't comprehend it. We ran from the terror of having to reconcile the most violent kind of death we'd ever seen with creatures who could be our alien intellectual equal. We ran from the very thing we'd traveled down here to find because it behaved in a manner so frightening to us." He shrugged. "And we've been paying the price for our sin daily." Skinner wanted to wring this man's neck. He wanted to jump to his feet, shout the man into submission, beat the living daylights out of each and every member of the original team. He wanted to march them all outside during the next cycle, set them down under a failing habitat, and let the monsters come. Let them try and numb away a full night of terror. With great restraint, he focused all of his frustration into his jaw muscles and the thick part of his forearms. It was all he could do just to keep their conversation quiet enough not to wake Mulder. This wasn't the kind of information he wanted Morgan revealing during their next meeting. Later, maybe somewhere quiet, he'd go over all this with his friend. Suddenly something Houston had said stood out in Skinner's mind. "Did you say one of those creatures made that sculpture of his?" It made sense, considering. But it was still hard to come to terms with. The doctor nodded. "One night he was out there for hours, then he came back inside with this statue in his hand. I saw the next night that the big one, the one he first spoke with, was holding one, too. It was similiar to Mulder's, but he never talked about it. After that night, we didn't see the big one again. That was just a week before we ... a week before we left." "The creature had one too?" Skinner tried to recall the times he'd seen the monsters, to see if he remembered any of them holding or carrying anything. He couldn't. "Yes. I've seen some of them with similar talismans. Not many of them, though. I believe it has something to do with rank. At least, it seems logical." So, that explained what happened to Mulder. "Why do you all stay here? You must have realized how insane Morgan is long before now. Any number of you could have left whenever you wanted, gone back to the station. Even if you assumed Mulder was dead, you could have gotten in, disabled the computers given enough time." The old man sighed deeply. "It was all too complicated by then. Morgan has people in power here, people he uses to keep the rest of us in line. He guards the tunnel, and that's the only way out. Unless you can fly over those mountains. And them. He ... we were studying the creatures here, to a certain degree." He paused, licking his lips for a moment. "At least, we thought we were. When we realized they lived here -- that we hadn't found a safe haven after all -- everything became quite clear." "They're studying you, aren't they?" The fact that Skinner had guessed the obvious seemed no surprise to the older man. He nodded, shrugging slightly. "We feed them. We watch their food animals, maintain their water supply. We stay inside when they're feeding and never try to enter their lairs." He looked up, meeting Skinner's gaze, unblinking. "We tell ourselves it's us who have tamed them. And we take the drug to soften the blow. But reality is what it is, Mr. Skinner. We're their shepherds. We tend their animals, breed their livestock, maintain the populations of their food source. We've been ... domesticated." "Who guards the tunnel?" "Morgan's men some of the time, and the creatures at other times. At least, that's what we've been told. We're quite properly penned in here." "You make great pets." Skinner shook his head, still in shock by the revelations. Aliens. Here. Among us. And humans supporting them. "How does Morgan stay in power? Does he speak with the creatures?" "No. He likes us to think he does. To some degree, I believe they know him as the dominant member of our 'pack,' but nothing more. They've managed to put up a door, in front of the tunnel entrance, that only his guards can open. They don't comprehend doors as we do. Can't open a simple latch, but they have a solid sheet of their metal that blocks access to the tunnel. You'd need their codes since the opening mechanism is on the inside of the tunnel. But then there are miles of open space through the harsh Polar air to cross before you reach the station. They'd fetch us all back before we had a chance." "You have vehicles." Skinner stared stonily at the old man. "Morgan's guards disabled them. We've been slowly collecting what we need to make them run again. Myself and a few others I trust." "So you don't even try?" Skinner's disgust wasn't something he could hide any longer. The mass cowardice here made him sick. "You expect Mulder to ... to what? To save you all?" Houston looked up, glancing at the sleeping man again. A look of hope flashed in his watery eyes, but he shook his head slowly from side to side. "No." The old man gathered his robes and stood, turning toward the doorway. "No, I don't suppose we have any right to expect that." "No, you don't." Skinner moved to follow the doctor to the door. "But that's not up to you. Or me." The man turned his head, looking back at Skinner as if to say something, then nodded sadly and left in a swirl of cloth that vanished quickly down the candle-lit corridor. ************************************************ Skinner stood there watching him leave. He knew he should feel somewhat sorry for the old physician, but he couldn't really muster the emotion. Anyone weak-minded enough to be led like cattle deserved to be treated like them. With a sigh, Skinner turned back into the cave. He looked up and found Mulder sitting on his sleeping-pallet, one blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "How long have you been awake?" Skinner walked back inside. His hand still held the little statue and he rubbed it with one finger, subconsciously making sure it was still there. Mulder didn't answer, so he walked to his friend and put a hand on his forehead. "You heard it all, didn't you?" He'd feared the man might be awake all the while, but he hadn't had the chance to make sure. Mulder swallowed, looking down toward the fire. His reply was a slight shrug of both shoulders while Skinner checked his skin for signs of fever. The bed was wide enough for him to fold both legs up and lean back against the rock wall, which was where he stayed, wrapped loosely in the heavy quilt. Skinner felt a twinge of anger tug at the muscles in his jaw. How could he have let Houston go on like that if Mulder might have been listening? "You need some breakfast, Mulder. I think I can get something put together from all these supplies here." He waited until he was given a nod, then moved to the stack of boxes and jars of prepared foods stacked in the corner. "I think I can get a pretty good meal out of this." Skinner glanced back at his friend, still sitting on the bed staring into the fire. Dammit, what was I thinking? Mulder never missed a trick, awake or asleep. If his conversation with Houston just sent the man back into hiding, he'd never forgive himself the mistake. Maybe he just needed some time to digest it all? Skinner busied himself with the supplies and cooking props he had to assemble over the fire. Mulder seemed to watch him with interest, giving him some hope that his friend hadn't walled off completely. "I guess I was wrong about the doctor." Skinner added water to his mixture of grains and cereals, then found a long spoon he could stir the porridge with. "At least, a little wrong. He still has some explaining to do." He got settled on a pillow opposite Mulder, keeping an eye on his friend while maintaining a casual monologue. "You know, there's still a lot more to this whole thing." He glanced up and saw Mulder shifting his position, watching him at the fire. "There are still things we don't know." Mulder blinked, creasing his eyebrows for a moment, but said nothing. "When we get back, we'll work on some hand-to-hand techniques. Not because I expect you to need them, but I don't want to get too lazy myself. It's a good way to keep in shape. I'd hate to lose my edge after all these years." Skinner stirred the pot's contents, then found a few spices in their supply stack and added them to the breakfast. Mulder was quiet, but alert. Something Skinner took as a good sign. He'd been given a lot to absorb in a short time. His whole world was turning upside down and sideways almost every hour since they'd found this place. It wasn't something Skinner would expect to be easy. He just wished he knew better how to help. "Here, breakfast is ready." He dished up two bowls, found spoons, then carried them both to his partner's bed. Skinner sat, holding one bowl out. "You haven't had a decent meal since lunch yesterday. Eat." Mulder brought one hand out from under his blanket and accepted the bowl, then shrugged his other arm free to hold the spoon and began to eat. Breakfast was a continuation of the silence of their morning. Mulder ate the porridge, but declined a refill when Skinner took the empty bowl. He set the dishes in a bucket for washing later, then moved the pot from the fire. When he stood up, movement at the door caught his eye. The guard from last night stood in the doorway, holding the curtain back. "Morgan requests your company." Skinner approached, staring the man down. "We're not in the mood today." "Morgan requests --" "I said we're not in the mood!" Skinner lowered his eyelids and gave the guard his best stare of commanding reprimand. It had the desired effect. The guard swallowed convulsively and took a half-step back. "You can tell your boss we're spending the day alone." Before the guard could reply, Skinner reached out and pulled the curtain out of his hand, shoving it back in place. He was rewarded by the sound of footsteps leaving the area quickly. "It's time we played this game by our rules." For a moment, he considered putting the shield back up, to insure their privacy. But he decided against it. They might need the things soon for their escape. Best not to waste the charges. Mulder shifted again, leaning forward, and ran a hand over his head to push some dark strands away from his face. It was the most animation Skinner had seen from him in more than two hours. He walked back to the bed and knelt down in front, resting a hand on one of his friend's knees. "Talk to me, Mulder. We're in this together, remember?" Hazel eyes blinked, then their gaze lowered to meet his. Mulder reached a hand out and gripped the older man's knees. "It's about friendship." He spoke quietly, almost to himself, but directed at Skinner. "Friendship?" "The statue." Skinner shifted slightly, and produced his. "Friendship? Is that what the statues mean?" Mulder nodded, then shook his head. "It's a symbol of passage, from one stage to another. I -- he -- the big one, he gave me one because I passed through to a stage where I could communicate. You have to make sure you don't lose this." Skinner smiled slightly, glad to have his friend back again. "I can do that. I'll keep it with me, but out of sight, OK?" He shifted again, then let Mulder take the statue while he got off the floor and sat beside his friend on the bed. If he could get the younger man active, he'd be more likely to work through whatever he was struggling with out loud. He hoped. "What does it say, exactly?" The silver piece was turned over and over in Mulder's hand as he looked at it, absorbed in thought. "Not exact. Abstract." He looked up, meeting Skinner's gaze. "The language, it's abstract." Skinner nodded. "That makes sense, I suppose. So what does this one mean?" Mulder looked at the sculpture again. "This was his. For when he made the change. It fits into mine, see?" Mulder dug through the blanket and produced his. "A new family. He and I." He held up his statue, stroked the chest, where the symbols remained invisible to Skinner's eyes. "This means he's responsible for me. As my protector, and teacher." Mulder reached a hand up and stroked the figure. "This means I'm part of that family. That I'm protected. That I belong." With both hands, Mulder brought the two statues together. He manipulated them together, one over the other, until they were where he wanted them to be. When he finished, Skinner could see how they fit together as one, melding into each other as if they were one solid piece of silver, with slight markings where the patterns fit together. "This means a family. The kind you chose." "That creature made that for you, the big one?" Mulder pulled the silver pieces apart again and looked at Skinner's, nodding. "Before he died -- changed. They put this with what was left of him." "Then I should have left it there. I'm sorry I took it. We could return it on the way home." "No!" Mulder looked up sharply. "No, it's yours. This didn't mean that I was his family, it meant he was mine. It belongs to you now. It shows them who you are. Please, you have to keep this." Skinner inhaled deeply and slowly. He could feel the inner smile building and didn't try to hide it. "I would be honored, Mulder." Mulder visibly relaxed, then looked around for something. "What is it?" Mulder shook his head, not looking up. He ran the fingers of his other hand over the sculpture, then suddenly pushed that hand through his hair, uttering a small snort. "I don't know! I can't sort it all out." "Mulder, it's all right." Skinner put both hands on his partner's shoulders, leaning down so he could look him in the eye. "You're doing fine, just relax. It's coming back to you, isn't it?" "It's like -- I feel like --" He looked up, eyes filled with emotion. "Every time I turn around, there's something there I didn't know before. Something I didn't remember, sitting there like it's been around forever. Only I couldn't find it." He sighed with complete frustration. "I feel like a stranger inside my own head." "I wish I could tell you I knew how you felt, but I can't." Skinner kept his hands on Mulder's shoulders, supporting him physically -- and emotionally -- he hoped. "All I can do is be here to help." "Just tell me this is all going to be all right." Mulder looked up again. "Tell me that and I'll believe you." The eyes meeting his were so filled with faith and trust, it moved Skinner deeply. It was a commitment that went far beyond his experience commanding investigations and fighting battles. He smiled and gave Mulder's shoulders a gentle squeeze. "This is all going to be all right, Mulder. I promise." His friend accepted that completely, causing Skinner to reiterate the promise is his mind. He *was* going to make sure things turned out all right. He had to. "There's only one problem." Mulder looked at the statue resting in his lap. "If this is right, then it didn't stop them from trying to kill me that night." Skinner reached over and touched the piece. "I know, I was thinking about that too." He thought back to that horrific night, and the events leading up to it. "It was in the pocket of my parka, not visible. And you were with me -- someone they don't know. Then under the shield, and that's hard enough to see through. And I was on top of you a good bit of the time." He fought off the chill that memory brought back. The sight of Mulder, torn and bleeding. No hope of rescue until the cycle ended. "Besides, after two years of not seeing you, they might have thought you were dead, too." Mulder shook his head and shrugged out of his blanket altogether. "It was all in the computer. The whole thing, everything I knew. Why did I scramble it? Why did I try to erase it all?" "Houston said they tried to disable the system when they left you. Maybe they did the damage. Maybe you encrypted the files to keep someone like Morgan from abusing them, and then they damaged them when they ran." "So why did I stay inside in the dark? What made me believe they were so dangerous? And why didn't I speak with them after the others left?" "You were injured." Skinner sighed and reached out to gently push the dark hair back, then stroke the scar still visible just at the hair line. "You were badly hurt, and you were alone. And you couldn't remember that they weren't always dangerous." "But they *are* dangerous. They've killed people in the new group, too." Mulder got off the bed and walked to his pile of clothes, shaking his head. "All of the pieces aren't there yet." "Don't worry about a few pieces, Mulder. Look how much you've gotten back as it is." Mulder nodded and moved away to the small bathroom. He shed his clothes quickly then glanced up at the mirror that was propped against the wall. The light from the flickering firepots cast uneven shadows and a trick of the flames seemed to cause the small cross at his throat to take on life for a moment. He stared at it, mesmerized, as it too seemed to ripple with color and shift in the fire's glow. Scully. Her name is Scully. She was always there, always with him. But always just beyond his reach. He touched the delicate cross again. This, this was real. He knew this now. He remembered this. When would he remember this woman who was always with him? When would she be real? He shook himself from his reverie and completed his morning ablutions, then rejoined Skinner. Mulder started pulling on clean clothes, the native selection matching what Skinner had on that morning. A quick glimpse at Skinner's neckline showed that he was still wearing the little 'medal' Mulder had made for him, transferring it diligently from shirt to shirt each day. "What do we do next?" Skinner stood. "I want to find Norton. He knows where the tunnel is, and what we'll need to get through it. If we can't find him, we get Houston to tell us. If it's guarded by Morgan's men, we can get out. Better that, than face the other option, considering." "Considering the fact that they're out all the time?" Mulder pulled a long, cream colored shirt down over his head. Like the other shirts given to them by the residents, this one seemed overly large, draping down halfway to his knees. "Walter, they've been out there all this time." He looked up, meeting Skinner's gaze with one of confused apprehension. "Were they just watching us? Why did they hide?" "I don't know." Skinner picked up Mulder's statue and handed it to him, watching as he slipped it into a pocket. "Just keep in mind, Mulder, all that time we were safe. Maybe they weren't around. Maybe they only hang out here when it isn't feeding time. We never saw them before, outside." He watched his partner nod slowly, considering the facts. "Remember, this is Morgan's own little world here. And he's just as deluded as the rest of them. What happens here, doesn't necessarily happen out there." Mulder sighed. "Why can't the truth ever just stand alone? Why does it always have to be someone's version of what's real?" Skinner laughed shortly, then draped an arm over his partner's shoulders as they walked out of the cave. "The truth, the truth. That's a true Mulder comment." He laughed again then turned serious. "The truth does stand alone. But finding it, that's another story." They pushed past the curtain and headed down the candle-lit corridor in search of Norton. "I know one truth no one can dispute." "What's that?" Mulder seemed comfortable enough walking beside Skinner, without clutching his waistband for security. "That there is such a thing as alien life. And you've made a breakthrough discovery in communication. You've managed to do something science has failed at for centuries." Skinner caught the look Mulder shot him and laughed quietly inside. Sometimes the simplest compliment could really throw this man for a loop. "They're going to have to rethink their definition of intelligent life and sentient beings, after this. Not to mention signs of communication and alternate languages." Mulder laughed shortly. "You're forgetting one thing. No, two things." "Yeah? What are they?" "First, if I was successful, I can't seem to do it anymore. And second, why are they here?" Skinner stopped, turning to face Mulder. "You were successful, Mulder. And you can still do it. It's coming back to you, just you wait." He moved his hand and gave his friend's shoulder a hard squeeze to emphasize his conviction. "No one can take that from you. Your belief, your steadfast determination, this was all you, my friend." He turned to proceed down the hallway but Mulder stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No, you're wrong." He pulled Skinner back around to face him and met his gaze with seriousness. "I may have done something two years ago, but I lost it. It isn't doing anyone any good if I can't remember. Especially me. You're the one that's made things happen." "Mulder --" "No, I'm serious. If it hadn't been for you, none of this would be any use to anyone. I wouldn't have remembered. Those people would have forced me to bring it back and it wouldn't have worked. Like you said, it had to come or not come. And when it did, you believed me. You let it happen, no matter how confusing or crazy it -- or I -- got." He shook his head. "If it weren't for you, I'd still be some crazed lunatic hiding in the basement. Or worse, after McMurray came along." "All right." Skinner stopped it there, not wanting a repeat of the memories of that night. "I don't believe you, but all right. If you want me to share the credit, I'll stand beside you and wave. How's that?" Mulder nodded, apparently content with the situation. "Good." He turned and they began walking through the corridors again. "Not that it matters to anyone else, but good." "In the end, Mulder, we're the only ones that matter." They continued down toward the main cavern, looking for Norton. As soon as other members of the group began filling the corridors and caves, Mulder took his position beside and slightly behind Skinner, maintaining constant contact with his side. It had become a very familiar feeling, having his friend attached and shadowing his every move when strangers were about. A feeling he didn't mind admitting he enjoyed. Knowing how completely the younger man trusted him to keep them both safe made Skinner that much more alert, that much more on guard. "Do you think the tunnel is around here somewhere? In these caves?" Mulder leaned closer even though no one was near enough to hear his questions. "It stands to reason." Skinner stopped on a level just above the main cavern where he could scan the people milling about. "If they use guards some of the time, and the creatures watch it at others, or just use these people's fear to do the trick, they wouldn't be far from here. They'd have to basically change guards quick enough to keep anyone from making a break during the in-between times." He looked down at the people, searching for Norton. "Do you remember what he looks like?" Beside him, Mulder shrugged. Skinner laughed shortly and shook his head. "You don't, do you?" "He doesn't mean anything to me." That was the man's answer to just about everyone. It was amazing how he could so easily erase someone's face from his mind. Anyone who didn't matter, simply didn't matter! Skinner heard footsteps approach from their right and felt Mulder press into his side as a woman stepped up to them, smiling. Skinner turned to face the visitor, allowing his partner to move to get a few steps farther back. She looked harmless. A slightly built woman in her mid to late forties, long dark hair with streaks of grey hung down thickly over bony shoulders. When she smiled, the gap between two front teeth drew attention. "Do you remember me, Mulder? I'm Elaine. I worked with you at the station. Remember?" She glanced at Skinner. "I was the pharmacist ... before." Her gaze fell back on Mulder and she reached a hand out, aiming for his chest. Mulder pulled back quickly, avoiding the touch he so despised from other people. His quick movement brought a startled reaction from the woman, and the hand hesitated, hovering between the two of them. Confused, she looked at her hand as if it alone had caused fear. When she looked at Mulder again, she seemed puzzled. "I was the pharmacist. I taught you about the sedative. I taught you how to use it, how to brew the tea, when your nightmares got bad." Again she reached out for Mulder, but this time he stepped away, moving his grip on Skinner's waist to the back but not letting go completely. "No. No, I don't remember you." Disappointed, she looked at Skinner again. "He doesn't remember me?" Skinner sighed, then cocked his head to the side and shrugged slightly. "I'm sorry, there's a lot he doesn't recall. And probably never will." Elaine looked from Skinner to Mulder, then back again. "Will he be leaving? Going back to the station?" Skinner glanced at Mulder. "Yes, we'll be leaving soon." "That's why we stopped, so we'd be ready." She turned to Mulder but let her hand fall to her side. "We've stopped dulling the pain. You'll take us back, won't you?" Mulder shot Skinner a look, swallowing hard. He refused to address Elaine. "She might know where the tunnel is." Skinner looked at the woman. "Do you?" Elaine nodded, then something behind them both caught her eye and caused her to gasp slightly. "I can't say." She turned and hurried away without a look back. "Let me guess," Skinner turned to face the owner of the footsteps he'd heard coming up from behind. "Morgan wants to see us." The guard stepped aside and pointed up a carved alley. "He has to see you both, right away." One hand moved to the man's belt and revealed a recognizable hand gun. "I'm not to take no for an answer." Beside him, Mulder tensed. "I suppose we could spare a few minutes." Skinner put a hand on his friend's shoulder, then led the way back up to Morgan's level. He refused to rush, and paused several times when they reached a more open area so he could scan around for Norton. Twice he asked passers-by if they'd seen the man, but no one had. Everyone they passed seemed quickly intimidated by the escort walking behind them. Skinner glanced over his shoulder once to see if the man was giving them any threatening glances or passing remarks, but it seemed as if his mere presence set these people off. Or the fact that he was armed, and no one else carried weapons. Either way, Skinner was on full alert. He maintained as casual an attitude as he could. Beside him, Mulder appeared to be picking up on his cues, and kept calm but wary. They both entered Morgan's rooms without hesitation while the guard stopped at the door. Skinner quickly assessed what he found inside. To the far left, Morgan was pacing with frustrated swirls of his white robes, while McMurray and another armed guard stood next to a slab near the opposite wall. On the slab he saw a heavy blanket, covering what was unmistakably a body, presumably human. Houston stood quietly in a corner, looking worried. "There he is!" McMurray was the first to take notice of the new arrivals. He pointed and took a step forward, but the guard put a hand on his shoulder and hauled him immediately back. Skinner looked at him with narrowed eyes, then turned to Morgan. "What's this all about?" Morgan had stopped pacing and stood glaring at McMurray. He turned to Skinner and shot Mulder a quick glance. "We have a slight problem, gentlemen." At a wave of his hand, the guard standing with McMurray moved to the slab and pulled a corner back. It wasn't surprising to see Norton lying there, stiff in death. Skinner inhaled slowly and deeply, collecting his thoughts. The hand clutching his side gripped more tightly, but Mulder said nothing. "Looks like the wrong man died." Skinner looked at McMurray. "Was it a fair fight, or did you just stab him in the back?" McMurray shook his head, looking at Morgan. "I told you he'd accuse me." "As you have accused him." Morgan gestured angrily, pointing at him with a shaking finger. "That's ridiculous." Mulder stared at Morgan, completely ignoring McMurray's presence. "Skinner isn't a murderer, but McMurray is. You should know that well enough." Morgan's face burned red for an instant and Skinner mentally applauded Mulder's comment. "The problem we have is one man's death, and two suspects." Morgan's voice showed his lack of control. His attempts to sound casual resulted in a shaking tone. "The last time Mr. Norton was seen alive was yesterday morning, at breakfast in the main gallery." He crossed the room but stayed several paces from everyone, pushing at his long robes with one arm so they would billow out behind him. Skinner found the effect comical. "He was found dead early this morning, with a knife in his back." "Found by who?" Skinner easily injected the proper amount of indifference in his own voice with complete success. It was obvious where Morgan was heading with this. "Found by our esteemed Lt. Colonel McMurray," Morgan drawled, glancing at Skinner. "Which is suspicious enough as it is." Skinner casually glanced at Mulder, hoping his partner was going to be able to stay calm. Mulder returned the look with intense apprehension in his eyes, but his body language -- while still pressed close to Skinner -- stayed quiet. "Neither of us has any weapons; you saw to that." Skinner nodded toward McMurray. "I've witnessed him in one attempted murder already. And you hired him yourself for that. I'd say it's a fair guess he's your man." Morgan's face burned red again and he paced a few feet to regain some composure. "I can see the Lt. Colonel is capable of many things, lying being only one." He stopped next to his guard. "There's only one sure way to find out which of you is guilty." Skinner tensed, his jaw muscles tightening. He hadn't wanted an all-out fight, not here. Just finding the tunnel and getting out of here was going to be hard enough. Being pressed into a battle on Morgan's terms -- or McMurray's -- was something he'd hoped to avoid. Mulder wasn't ready to react, even if his actions at the river had been right. They hadn't had time to work on fighting strategies, a fact he was going to rectify first thing after they got back to the station. "I'm placing you both under arrest. Not Mulder, since I don't think he's capable of managing something like this on his own." Morgan shot Mulder a look of pure contempt. "He's not even half the man he was." "Wait a minute here!" McMurray stepped forward but was again restrained by the guard. "You never said anything about arresting me!" It happened too quickly. McMurray's outburst distracted Skinner for the split second the other guard had required to come in behind them. The same man who had escorted them inside reached out to push Mulder away from Skinner. The instant his hand touched the younger man's shoulder, Mulder shied back then pushed forward, knocking the armed man off balance. Skinner was in mid-turn, reaching for the weapon, when it discharged, creasing Mulder's brow. He went down instantly, unconscious even before he hit the ground. Skinner's body responded to the sudden change in direction immediately. He caught his friend a few feet from the ground and went down with him. "No!" Morgan rushed to the guard. "I told you not to hurt him!" Mulder was limp in Skinner's arms, but the pulse under his probing fingers was steady. Skinner felt his mind snap fully and completely into soldier mode. A battle-calm settled over him as he lowered his friend gently to the soft dirt floor. When he looked up at the guard, the man visibly flinched, gulping convulsively. "That was a mistake." Skinner got to his feet without taking his eyes from the man he was going to attack. He heard the footsteps behind him and ducked instinctively left. A bullet seared past his right arm. The man who fired stared disbelievingly at the wall his ammo slammed into. Skinner moved to club the weapon from his outstretched hand, but he never made contact. ********************************************** Pain throbbing sharply behind his left ear brought Skinner slowly back to consciousness. He remembered enough not to open his eyes immediately, but he felt lucky to even remember that through the pain. One by one, his other senses came back online through the haze. He was lying on his back, on something hard and hot. There didn't seem to be any other pain, but the knifing in his head was certainly enough! Sounds of someone else nearby came next to his awareness. It wasn't Mulder, he knew that. Whoever it was stayed far enough away for distance to mute the sound of his breathing. OK. Air, sound, pain. You're alive. Skinner slowly reached a hand up to his forehead where it could hold the scattered remains of his brain in place while he sat up. Mulder had been hit, he knew that. Forcibly, he opened his eyes and rolled to the side and searched the area for his partner before he could even focus. "He's not here." McMurray's voice echoed to Skinner off the nearby mountainsides. He blinked twice, then looked around again when he could see more clearly. His glasses lay neatly folded about two feet away, and he reached out and snagged them. They were in the cage on the plateau, the one Mulder had called 'the birthing place.' It was lit by candles, burned halfway down, and three odd torches strapped to the bars. There appeared to be no doorway, and the thick steam still rose from the opening in the center, causing Skinner to begin to sweat already. Mulder was nowhere to be found. "Where is he?" Skinner glared at McMurray, using the pounding in his head as a focus. The hand holding his head together moved to the back and felt the lump and dried blood coating his fringe of hair. Unbelievable! Blindsided twice by this group of madmen! He was getting rusty in his old age. "I don't know. They threw me in here with you. I think Houston has him." The only thing keeping Skinner from lunging off the slab and pulling McMurray's brain through one eye was the pounding in his own head. He knew if he tried to get up too quickly, he'd end up face down, probably unconscious again. "We've both been set up, Skinner." Skinner stared at the man, incredulous. "We?" He stood slowly, gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain. Mulder could be waking up by now, he had to get out of here and find him. "You killed Norton, didn't you?" If his friend woke from being shot, with Houston and no sign of him ... "He tricked me. I should have seen it coming." McMurray shook his head but remained sitting on the opposite side of the heat vent, away from Skinner. "It was brilliant, in a devious way. I should have seen it." Skinner walked to the bars on his side, searching for a door. "There was a way in. So there's a way out." He touched the slab, then let his fingers feel the edges for a hinge or mechanism. Any quick movement drew a sharp knife of pain through the back of his skull. "It's no use. They won't let us out till the creatures are ready to feed. It's on a voice control -- the only word Morgan knows of the language." McMurray sighed and sat back, watching Skinner. "You know, I'm surprised your friend didn't try to kill me himself the other day." The cage was solid, the bars seeming to melt into the floor and into one another where they joined to form a roof. Skinner turned and glanced around the enclosure. "Mulder doesn't care if you die or not." He moved along the outside edge, studying the bars and glancing up. If this thing opened, it had to be from above. "Don't mistake that for forgiveness, McMurray. He just doesn't care. Living alone for all that time put things into a perspective for Mulder that you could never hope to understand. Personally, I'd like to see you dead." "You may get your wish, if they get me first." Skinner shot him a look. "This was your doing." McMurray lifted something, something that glinted in the moon's light. "You've gone over to them, haven't you?" Skinner grit his teeth, buying time for the pain in his head to recede. "I came here to take my man home. Nothing more. I didn't expect any of this." Skinner turned back to his examination of the cage, working his way around the steam, trying hard to force the pain in his head to level off so he could manage it. "Mulder gave me that. He's the one that figured it out." Applause, slow and deliberate, reverberated off the rock walls. "It must kill you, being the great detective, the great strategist, the warrior-cop." McMurray stood and brushed the dust from his butt. "Some great hero. A group of scientists and engineers got the better of you so easily." It was the last straw. Skinner spun around, catching the man off guard, and took two handfuls of shirt. Before McMurray could react, he'd been slammed into the metal bars, losing his breath with a stunned grunt. Skinner pressed his face close and felt his body push past the pain, coming to full readiness. With his own eyes inches from his enemy, he glared at a face breaking into a sudden, fearful sweat. His voice remained deadly calm. "You listen to me, McMurray. I've had it with you and your schemes, plots, attempted murders and secret agendas! If I didn't think it might jeopardize Mulder's safety, I'd snap your neck right here and now!" Skinner pressed the man harder against the bars and felt him try to squirm away without success. "But as it stands, I have to let you live. So you're gonna start explaining everything, in plain English. Everything that's going on here and the part you're playing! Or I'm gonna kick your lily white ass right through these solid bars and find out for myself what's going on!" McMurray squirmed again and Skinner shoved his fists harder into the man's chest, pinning him tight against the metal. "And if anything -- *anything* -- happens to Mulder because of you, there won't be enough pieces left of your remains to identify." With one last shove, he released McMurray and had the satisfaction of watching him stumble as he tried to regain his balance. "It's not about me, you idiot! It's about him!" McMurray found his footing and moved aside, nervously tugging at his shirt. "They're doing this to lure him out. They need his help." "For what?" Skinner glared, speaking through clenched teeth. The pain in his head threatened unconsciousness if he moved again, but he forced it back. McMurray backed away further, looking like a frightened animal in a cage. "Morgan needs him. He needs his help to dominate the creatures. He has greater ambitions that just this little enclave. He wants to rule the world." "How does this involve Mulder?" "He has to show him how it's done. How to talk to those animals. Morgan has been trying to figure out what Mulder did, and how, so he can communicate with the creatures, control them." "Mulder wouldn't do that." The pain required some attention, so Skinner brought a hand up to rub his forehead, trying to distract himself from it. "No, not for Morgan, he wouldn't." McMurray had reached the far wall and could back up no further. "But he will for you." ****************************************************** It was a game. Or game board of some kind. Mulder knew deep down this had to be a dream. Everything was dark, inky black except for the image floating before him. A game board, shimmering blue and black, with a large blue globe supported in its center. Mulder stared at the orb, fascinated by the look of it. It was familiar -- he knew what it was. He wished Skinner was here to see it. He'd know what it meant, or what it was trying to tell him. Only he wasn't here. Wherever here was. It was a nightmare. Mulder looked around, straining to see beyond the darkness. He could hear breathing, feel a warmth nearby. But it wasn't Skinner. Everywhere he looked, the globe appeared before him -- with obscure figures battling over control of it. And he was in the middle. He was beginning to panic. The breathing grew louder, closer. His fear grew, but there was nowhere to hide, and nowhere to go. Slowly, he looked up. Moving toward him through the blackness was a face. It was one of them! "No!" Mulder's shout brought him out of the darkness with a violent thrust of his arm. The hand touching his forehead was pushed aside, but another pressed over his chest. "Mulder, lie still. You're not well." "Get away from me!" Mulder lunged sideways, falling from the bed he'd been on with a thud. Pain stabbed through his temples, threatening to make him sick as he struggled to focus. "Where is he?!" What little he could see he recognized as the doctor's room. Skinner wasn't here. "Mulder, you have to lie still! That bullet creased your skull -- I'm not sure how much damage was done." Hands grabbed his arms and tried to pull him back up to the bed, but Mulder twisted out of their grip. He was on the floor, fighting back the urge to be sick as the pain throbbed through his entire skull. "Get away from me!" One quick burst of anger managed to get him flipped over and into a sitting position, backing away from Houston as the man was reaching down for him again. "Where's Walter? Where is he?" Houston finally seemed to take the hint and stopped trying to touch him. He stood a few feet away, looking worried. "He's safe, don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to him." Mulder clenched his jaw tightly, fighting through a wave of pain and nausea. He didn't remember anything after that guard pushed him aside, but he remembered the strong sense of danger. It was the same thing he was feeling now. "They have him locked up, you can't get in there." Houston stepped forward again, then stopped when Mulder glared at him. "He's perfectly safe right now, so are you. Really, you have to lie still." Houston was coming at him again, so Mulder grabbed the wall beside him and pulled himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness came over him suddenly, and for an instant he was floating above everything, spots dancing in his vision. He regained control before falling back down to the floor. Houston stopped in his tracks, hands outstretched. "You really must rest. That shot was tricky; it's very serious." "Why is this happening?" The question was more to himself than anything, a way to focus through the pain and keep on his feet. "I don't know. I think he knows you and Skinner were going to find the tunnel, and help us all leave. This is his way of stopping you." Mulder stared at the old man. He didn't even try to hide his anger. Houston was standing between him and the exit, and given Mulder's condition could probably prevent any attempt to leave. But he had to try. He'd have to get back to their cave, get those shields and find Skinner. Why Morgan had taken only him wasn't clear. He probably figured he had nothing to fear from a fear-crazed amnesiac like Mulder. He was wrong. "Get out of my way." Mulder took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the wall, praying it hadn't been the only thing holding him up. The pain was almost blinding, but he used the momentum of his push to propel him toward the doorway. "You have to rest." Houston stepped forward, arms reaching out to stop him. "No!" Mulder spun around and brought a fist up, connecting with the man's jaw through some strange providence. His follow-through nearly brought him back to the floor himself, but the wall was still close enough to stop him from going down. "Stay away from me." Mulder pushed off the rocks again and managed to stumble through the opening and out into the corridor. His head was throbbing badly, blurring his vision in waves as he felt his way down the walkway, both hands using the wall for guidance. There was no telling what time it was, or how long he'd been unconscious in the doctor's rooms. No telling where Skinner was, or what was happening to him. And no way of knowing how to save him. By the time he stumbled his way back to the chamber he and his friend had been sharing, Mulder was sweating. The throbbing in his head altered into a stabbing pain every fifth step and it was getting harder to breathe. Several people he passed in the corridors seemed to want to help him, but he managed to send them away with a threatening glance. It felt like an eternity before he got to the room. His first instinct was to shut the heavy curtain and put up the shield, giving him the time he'd need to locate Skinner. That simple task wasn't easy, with his vision coming and going, but he finally managed a secure seal after the third try. He scrabbled through his pack and found the remote unit he had programmed with the frequency for Skinner's medal. Another stabbing pain doubled him over momentarily. When he recovered, he sat on one of the sleeping-pallets and waited for his eyesight to clear up again. He had to find Skinner. Wherever he was, he'd be doing what he could to get out. Unless he'd been injured. Mulder had no memory of anything after the shot, he had no way of knowing if Skinner had been shot as well, or worse. Houston said he was fine, for now. But that man had lied before. No, it was up to him. Walter would be depending on him. It took a bit of fine tuning, but after he found the frequency the medal had been set to, the unit responded as ordered. The display panel lit up, showing a dot, then a smaller one that indicated where he was in relation to his subject. "Yes!" It worked! Even the shield didn't interrupt the signal of the small piece of metal. The display showed Skinner was out, out of the caverns, over into the valley, but up higher. That was all he needed to know. Now it was just a matter of finding his way up there through the maze of tunnels and walkways and breaking Skinner out of whatever restraint they had him in. Then they could get the hell out of here and go home! Mulder set aside the unit long enough to take off his shirt and toss it to the floor. He found the sweatshirt Skinner had given him and pulled it over his head. The stabbing between his eyes hit just as he pulled the warm shirt down. He winced, pressing a hand into his forehead to push back at the pain, then stumbled forward. Some instinct he never had before sent him straight for Skinner's sleeping-pallet and the pile of blankets there. The momentum allowed him to fall onto the bed just as he lost consciousness. There was no nightmare this time. Just a slow crawling back to awareness. Mulder felt the quilts under his back, cushioning him where he'd fallen. In his head he could hear Skinner's voice, telling him not to move until the pain stopped. But the fact that Skinner's voice was in his head, and not right there gently speaking into his ear, made him force both eyes open. The stabbing between his temples was greatly reduced, and only throbbed from deep inside now. Gingerly, he rolled onto his side and got into a sitting position. No nausea threatened to make him sick, no black spots clouded his vision. But how long had it been? Mulder fought back a sudden fear and dug into his pocket for Skinner's watch. The tenth hour. Why was that important? He put the watch back and looked around the vacant room. There was still no way of knowing what time he'd woken up in the doctor's room, or what Morgan had in mind for them both. He retrieved the tracer and turned it back on, then checked for Skinner's position again. As the machine scanned the frequency, he saw another blip appear on his display, larger than Skinner's medal and on another setting. Frustrated, he altered the output and found his friend again, right where he'd seen him before. Wherever he was, above the cave and out in the bowl, Mulder knew that piece of silver was vibrating slightly from the signal. Skinner would at least know he was all right, and looking for him. Which he had to do now, before any more time passed. Mulder found his pack and slipped it on quickly. Then he turned off the two shielded habitats, and studied them, before adding them to his pack. He needed a weapon, not just a defense, but there wasn't time to fashion one. There wasn't time for anything anymore. The maze of tunnels awaited, and the pain in his head was manageable now. He pushed back the curtain that covered their cave entrance. The hallway was empty, so he stepped out and headed down to the first cross-section. Voices drifted up from the cavern below, and down from several caves to his left. Mulder felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. Skinner wasn't here to use as a barrier. He didn't know how these people would react to him if they saw he was alone. Quickly he continued down and to the right, then up a rise to another level. It was a maze indeed. All the time they'd spent in these caves so far, he'd paid little attention to anything but the way back to their cave from wherever they wandered to. Now he was having to make the choices, and find a route to a section he'd wasn't familiar with. All he knew was up and out, where the signal was. The trail he was on seemed to be heading in the proper direction, so he followed it. At the third cave he passed, a woman stepped out, reaching for him. "Is it time?" Mulder jumped to the other side of the tunnel, pressing his back into the rock wall. He stared at the woman but said nothing. "Is it time?" She stopped where she was, looking puzzled. "We're ready now." There were others in the cave, two small children and an older man. The little girl looked familiar. Mulder's heart was racing. "Leave me alone." He moved along the wall until he was away from the cave's mouth, then hurried up the tunnel again, hearing nothing behind him. Several yards away the tunnel bent to the left and he was out of sight. He slowed his pace slightly and swallowed to moisten his fear-parched throat. God, let this be the way! Why couldn't they all leave him alone, like they had for the past two years? The tunnel continued, narrowing in spots, then expanded out and bent into other cave rooms. Now and then the occupants would rush to their entrances and reach out for him, always asking if it was time. Mulder managed to avoid their outstretched hands and pleading glances, but he was shaking after twenty minutes of dodging strange faces. Twice he stopped to check the signal again, always finding it in the same place, but closer with each try. The trail had to be correct, it kept going up and back, and while it detoured into several room-filled dead ends, the main path continued on. He was just about to consider himself safe when he rounded another section and found a large group, staring at him with expectant faces. Mulder froze, his hand darting out to steady himself against the wall. "We're ready. Will you take us back now?" One woman, a blonde about his age, stepped forward. "No." Mulder shook his head, then turned to run. "They're ready to leave, Mulder." Houston blocked his way, hands outstretched. Mulder stopped in his tracks, staring at the old man. Behind him were another couple of dozen people, all pushing forward. He blinked, feeling a deep-rooted terror well up inside. Each of the people surrounding him carried several rugs rolled up into bags, heavy with their contents. They were all dressed in several layers of clothing, covered with blankets, as if ready for a long journey. "Leave me alone!" Mulder glared back at the old man. "I'm not taking any of you anywhere. I need to find Walter!" "It's time, Mulder!" Houston took a step forward. "Morgan is too distracted now; he won't stop anyone. This is far too important for him; now's the time to make our escape." Distracted by what? Skinner's murder? Damn, if only he had a weapon! "I'm not going anywhere. You know where your tunnel is. Leave." "We need you to open it." Houston stepped closer again and Mulder backed up, but the crowd behind him began to close in. Desperate, he moved to the side and found a short passageway in the hard rock wall. He ducked through, then into a large open chamber with an imposing door made of the odd metal pressed up against one wall. A dead end! Mulder spun around, his hand on the wall again for balance. He cursed himself for having passed out in the cave, losing that much precious time. If he'd stayed awake, he might have taken the time to fashion himself a weapon out of something in the room. They were rushing in now, into the chamber. "Open it!" "The door, Mulder! Open the door!" Houston pointed to the silver slab. "Hurry, he'll be too busy with them now. We'll be safe!" "Get away from me!" Mulder backed against the wall, holding one hand in front of him. "They aren't going to." Houston stepped closer, waving one arm behind him to indicate the people massing outside the chamber. "They've waited too long. Open the door, Mulder. Let them go home." Unbelievable! For all that time they'd left him alone. *Left* him! Now they wanted him to let them go home? Anger took hold where fear had him paralyzed moments before. An anger like none he had ever known. Pure hatred. It was almost calming. "Let you go home?!" He glared at the doctor, then let his gaze cover the people he could see from where he was standing. Two people visibly flinched. "The home you left two years ago? The home you left me alone in?" He returned his stare to Houston. "There is no home for you. This is your home!" He knew these people wouldn't let him leave, probably wouldn't let him live, if he didn't somehow open that door and let them out. Fine, let them go. Let them run like the sheep they were. They didn't matter. None of them mattered! He had to find Skinner. With an angry shake of his head, Mulder spun around to face the imposing door. There were no hinges worked into it's face, no handle to be seen. He stepped up to it and ran his hands over the metal, feeling its smooth texture, both hot and cold at the same time. Behind him the crowd grew silent, and he could feel people holding their breath. He stared at the door for a moment longer, and then, as if it had always been there, a word appeared in his mind, and found its way to his tongue. Something hummed from somewhere inside the metal and he pulled his hand back as the huge door begin to melt. Mulder turned back to the crowd and pointed behind him at the opening. "There! There's your damn door! Run!" He glared at Houston while people began to rush by, through the open tunnel. "Now get away from me." The stillness in his voice was a surprise, and the older man reacted with several rapid blinks. "I -- you'll have to hurry. Morgan took them both outside." The doctor swallowed several times. "He -- that is, we all -- they're just scientists, Mulder. Academics. They haven't done any of this on purpose." Mulder narrowed his eyes in contempt. "Take them and go. I've never needed any of you." He dismissed them all with a wave of one hand, then forced his way through the group trying to push their way to the door. It was almost more than he could handle. ********************************************* He wanted to scream by the time he burst out of the crowd, back in the tunnel. Finally free from the pressing mass of people, Mulder ran quickly up the trail, away from the exodus. He was running blind now, but his need to be far from those people was too strong. Thoughts were spinning around in his head too quickly for any of them to make sense, so he ran and kept on running, higher and deeper into the mountainside. Searching for Skinner. Until he reached the dead end. "NO!" Mulder slammed both fists into the rock wall, so hard he broke the skin on every knuckle of his left hand. He turned on the tracer again, undamaged by his action, and found the active blip. It couldn't have moved, he'd been going in the right direction, but unbelievably it was on the other side of the dead end. He'd traveled the wrong path! "Walter!" His shout echoed off the uncaring rock, as he slipped to his knees. "Walter!" "It's an easy mistake." Mulder spun around, pressing his back into the wall as he pushed himself back up to his feet. "Where is he?!" He glared at Morgan and the three guards facing him, but stayed as far away from them physically as the rock wall would allow. "This place is full of winding dead ends and confusing misdirections." Morgan smiled benignly. "It took us months to figure them all out." "Your people are leaving." Mulder's gaze darted from Morgan to each guard and back again. They outnumbered him, that was obvious. "It's no matter." Morgan dismissed the concern with a wave of one hand. "I'll have them all back soon enough. After you've helped me." "Helped you?" Mulder nearly laughed, but was glad he didn't. His voice was beginning to betray his nervousness. "I'm not helping you do anything. What have you done with my friend?" Morgan sighed and shook his head. "I knew you'd feel that way. That's why I've enlisted the help of your friend." Mulder's heart skipped a beat with a surge of apprehension. "You'll help me, for his sake." The tracer was still turned on, and still registering. Mulder shot a quick glance down at the display. The blip that was Skinner's medal was still there. He slipped the pack half off his back, fumbling inside as he spoke. "What are you doing with him? Where did you take him?" "Outside." Morgan's smile vanished and his guards drew their weapons. "I didn't have time to wait for the frenzy to hit, so they're being taken to the temple. Humans aren't allowed there, no matter what time it is." The temple? Mulder creased his forehead in thought. The birthing place! Of course! On the plateau! His hand was on one of the habitats, and he tensed, ready to make his break. If he didn't move quickly enough, didn't use his advantage, those guns would take him down fast enough. He was either going to make it or die trying. "You're going to kill him." "No. You are." It was faster than he thought. No more than a split second passed between flipping the switch and the current shooting up around him. He threw the thing at Morgan and his guards, with no time to waste for aim. Mulder just started running as fast as he could, hoping the shield would at least buy him a little time. And it did. Two of Morgan's men were caught off guard, then knocked to the ground by the shock of the electric current. Three shots rang out from behind him, but they bounced harmlessly off the rock walls. Mulder ran as fast as he could, trying hard not to think about what he was doing. As he rounded a large bend, he came upon more of the people rushing into the tunnel chamber, making their escape. He held his arms out as a battering ram, and quickly found a clear path through the crowd. Behind him, he heard screaming, and more shots as Morgan's men encountered the fleeing masses. Ahead, a path immediately formed for Mulder to run through unimpeded, so he took full advantage. Racing back the way he'd come was a simple matter of running upstream from the fear-stricken people rushing for their freedom. Mulder reached the center of the cavern with a good five turns on Mogan and his guards. He turned sharply, then ran down the trails he did know to the bottom level. He reached the main cavern, pausing near the curtained tunnel. The huge curtain was drawn closed, and the caverns were a confused jumble of humans rushing about, some screaming in panic, some demanding everyone stay calm. Apparently not all the scientists wanted to leave, or they were too afraid to try. Mulder glanced around, wondering what it was that had brought him to a stand still. Then he saw it. One of the creatures was perched on a ledge above the open area, staring unmoving at the people below it. "No!" It was too late. The creatures were out. "There he is! Follow him!" Mulder shot a glance over his shoulder. Morgan was in his cave, high above the cavern entrance, pointing down at him. Nothing mattered anymore. Time, the creatures, the people still rushing about in complete confusion. Nothing. All that mattered now was how close to Skinner he could get before they both died. So he ran. He ran with a single-mindedness that blocked out all thoughts of followers, the dark sky, or what black beings might come. He ran through the open space, stumbling over rocks and clumps of earth. He ran till he reached the ridge, then climbed it at a steeper point than they had the other day. Once at the top, a cramp in his side forced him to pause, panting heavily. Sweat was soaking his hair, making it cling uncomfortably to the back of his neck. The shirt he wore was clinging wetly to his back and chest, and his underarms were soaked. The pack on his back slapped against him with every other step and he could feel the reassuring weight of the silver statue against his shoulder blades. When the cramp subsided enough to allow him to move, he started running again, headlong down the opposite side of the ridge. Ahead lay the crevice, then the steeper climb beyond that, and the plateau further on. Mulder's lungs were burning. It was dark out here, so very dark, and hard to see where he was putting his feet. They spent such a brief moment on the ground during his mad flight, it hardly seemed important. Until he drew closer to the crevice. The ground there had more small rocks hidden in the mountain soil. He fell hard on his knees twice before trying to look more carefully. It slowed his pace a bit, but staying upright took less time than recovering from the falls, so he continued to scan the ground ahead for stones, barely visible in the pale moon light. He reached the crevice's edge and collapsed, cursing his cramping muscles. Each breath had to be dragged into lungs screaming for a rest. The crack in the ground wasn't that wide, if he could just get up! It took three tries, but Mulder finally got back to his feet. A renewed sense of urgency fueled him forward, and he vaulted over the opening in a fluid leap. It was a short distance, but exhausting in his already spent condition. He had to drag himself up the opposite edge with the help of a few well-placed ledges and boulders, then used them to push off and stumble forward. The second ridge ahead was steeper and composed of loose rock and dirt that made the climb complete torture. One misplaced foot nearly sent him crashing to the bottom, but he found his footing again and reached the top, nearly collapsing again. He stumbled once more, then paused, his attention caught by something glinting in the moonlight. He scrabbled at the dirt and lifted a blade, the steel knife bright in the moon's glow. At last he had a weapon! He looked up again, taking his bearings. The plateau was visible, the birthing place a dark shadow on the open area. He was going to make it! Just in time to die, no doubt. But he was going to make it. Mulder leaned forward and let himself fall to his knees for a quick rest. "Please, Walter, be alive." No sooner had he panted out his whispered prayer, he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He froze, rasping breath caught in his throat. Slowly, Mulder turned his head. Behind him, at the bottom of the ridge he'd just climbed, sat two of them. Large, black scaled bodies squatted on the rocks while curious eyes watched him. It was a nightmare. If he played his cards right, at least the nightmare would end quickly this time. Quickly and forever. Mulder turned his back and got to his feet. There was nothing he could do but press on and wait. Death would come from behind, above, or in front, but it would come soon. God willing he'd reach Skinner in time to give him a fighting chance. Years of terror-filled nightmares made movement hard, but he finally managed to get in motion again. All he had to do was climb the plateau, find Skinner, and if he was still alive, get him freed. The blade in his hand felt strong and cold, deceptively useful. Base of the neck. Base of the neck. Mulder chanted as he focused all the concentration he could muster on his only task, pushing away thoughts, and sounds, of the animals all around him. It was so dark out here. The night sky filled with twinkling stars and a nearly full moon. Bright, white light bathed the landscape around him and caused the giant silver structure ahead to glow softly. As he drew closer, he heard a voice. "He betrayed me! It was only supposed to be you out here!" McMurray. Mulder hadn't even thought of him. At least he would die, too. Walter must be inside, inside the birthing place. "It's all his fault, I'm telling you! He's a madman!" Shut up, you fool! Didn't he know better than to make so much noise? But was Walter still alive? No, he had to be. Who else would McMurray be ranting on to? "Oh, my God, they're all around us!" Mulder reached the platform and dashed around the cage. The silver around him glowed brightly, but his eyes saw only his friend, pacing back and forth on the near side of the cage. At the far side, McMurray was tied to the bars, Skinner's belt holding him fast. "Mulder!" Skinner's urgent whisper accompanied a quick shake of his head. "No, there's no time! The habitat, Mulder! Protect yourself!" He couldn't speak. All the running and the fear had left him completely breathless. The word to open the cage, it was there, right on the tip of his tongue, if he could only find the breath to utter it. Mulder fell to his knees beside Skinner and reached for the pack, blocking out all knowledge of the black, shadowy figures assembling on the rocky ground behind him. He passed the knife through the bars, still fumbling with the pack as he struggled for air. "Get me out of here!" McMurray's voice cracked with fear. He leaned toward Skinner, pulling against the restraint. "Hurry, they're here!" It took an eternity to get the pack free. When he did, Skinner reached immediately for the shield and began to set it up to cover Mulder. "No!" Mulder pushed his hand away and the habitat fell to the ground. "Mulder, get in it!" "No!" He'd rather die first, than be protected under that energy field with a full, clear view of his partner's death. He reached the other man's arm, praying the creatures would wait a few seconds more. Their eyes met in that instant and Mulder paused. "I'm sorry." Skinner opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, the bars of the cage began to ripple as the complex markings appeared. Even McMurray stopped his ranting. Mulder stared up at the metal, and his mouth opened, a strange and unnatural sound coming out in a whisper. Behind him a low hum echoed, deep and animal. As the sound changed pitch, the cage began to vibrate, and a door appeared, sliding silently open. Symbols in blues and greens and teals flowed up the bars to the top, then began again in the same pattern from the base, moving slowly upward. It was mesmerizing, and eerily familiar. Then all too quickly, it was gone. "Get behind me!" Skinner shouted this time, loud enough to snap Mulder out of his daze, as he shoved something into the younger man's hand. But it was too late. Mulder managed to clutch once more at his friend's arm, before he felt the heavy, clawed hand dig into his right shoulder. Skinner reached out with his one hand but only managed to grab the side of the sweatshirt as Mulder was pulled backward, off his feet. He didn't even know if Skinner had gotten the knife. Death began in slow motion, and all sound seemed to stop as he was spun around to face his attacker. The creature dropped him on his ass in front of the still-caged Skinner, then stared down at him from a terrifying height. It was the biggest one Mulder had ever seen. He suddenly found it odd that he'd so rarely looked at these animals before. Odder still that he'd be filled with such a strangely calm detachment at the moment of his death. Behind him, he could hear Skinner scurrying to the now open door. He was glad to be the first, but he wished his friend wasn't there to watch. The animal before him stood, stretching to its full height on solid rear legs. With arms extended, it drew back its massive head and prepared to make the kill. Mulder vaguely registered the cluster of creatures gathered behind this big one, watching with quiet interest. The monster roared. Suddenly Mulder brought his right hand up, palm facing outward. "De - Asit - Taw!" A silence followed his outburst. A silence nearly as deafening as the creature's roaring had been. Mulder opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd shut and found himself staring into the ghoulish face just inches from his own. "Don't move." Skinner was behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, his hushed command was the only sound on the plateau. "De - Asit - Taw!" He tried the words again at a more modest volume. The word was unfamiliar to his ears, but felt natural on his tongue. His right arm was shaking, so he lowered it slowly, keeping his palm facing out. "De - Asit - Taw!" Mulder glanced at the silver statue in his hand. As he spoke, the silver broke out in markings, rippling a pattern of blue and brown over the surface of the metal. He swallowed hard, staring at the colors until a loud, multi-voiced clamor scared him spitless. Every creature gathered around them lifted their heads and chimed in, arms extended. "My God, look at that." Skinner's exclamation caught Mulder's attention and he looked up. The silver cage was swimming in symbols. Various patterns ran from the floor up each arm to the top, then began again at the floor. Everything around them was shifting, shimmering with color and symbols and vibrating with the change. It was too much! Mulder fought a wave of weakness brought on by extreme sensory overload and physical exhaustion. Just as he feared he might pass out, the voices stopped. He blinked, staring at the large beast in front of him. Was it over? What the hell had he just done? Before he could react, the animal reached a massive hand toward him, touching the statue he held. Mulder's heart skipped a beat as he waited for the claws to tear into his flesh. But after a close examination, the creature let go of the figure. "What's happening here, Mulder?" Mulder told himself to start breathing again before trying to answer Skinner. He started to turn his head when suddenly the creature loomed over him again. There was no time to cry out. There never seemed to be time for anything anymore. Mulder couldn't even move his head before the animal lurched downward and scooped him into a massive embrace. Heavily muscled arms pulled him to his feet, then wrapped around his body, pulling him firmly but gently against the animal's warm figure. Mulder's heart had stopped. At least he was pretty sure it had. He knew for a fact his mind had frozen, blank with fear. The beating he heard in his right ear was the heart of the creature holding him, but soon it was joined by a pounding in his own chest. A strange sensation washed over him then, pushing out the fear. The body holding him was soft, like worked leather, and covered in very fine, short hair. Mulder could hear a low humming, like a purr, emanating from deep within the animal. It was comforting, and seemed to be settling Mulder's shock and fear, smoothing it out into a gentle calm. It made him think of Skinner. Just as Mulder wanted to pull out of the warm embrace, he felt the arms around him open up, then allowing him room to move. Dazed and still shaking, he backed away one step and looked at the creature, swallowing hard to moisten a dried throat. "He--he remembers me." His voice cracked from the exhaustion and Mulder turned to look at Skinner. "He remembers me." Before his friend could answer, he turned back toward the animal, then pointed to Skinner and held out his hand again. What was the word? Strange sounding syllables were running rampantly through his mind. Words that hadn't been there months -- or even minutes -- ago. "Um ... Wa - teri." He glanced at the statue and saw the pattern change at his words. "Wa - teri." Mulder swallowed again, nervously watching both the statue and the animal. He turned toward Skinner again and pointed. "Wa - teri." "What is that?" Skinner met his gaze, then glanced at the creature moving toward him with curious eyes. "Ah ... Either 'child' or 'game.' I'm not sure which." "Child?" Mulder shrugged apologetically, then held his breath as the animal approached Skinner. The other creatures had gathered closer and now watched every move with intense interest. "Don't move." "Don't worry." Skinner shot him a look that proved moving was the last thing on his agenda. Very slowly, the large creature reached out and touched Skinner. It probed his body, pausing at the lump in his pocket, then gently extracted the other statue. Mulder breathed a sigh of relief for whatever small providence had caused his friend to keep the thing when he found it, but an underlying fear kept him on edge, waiting for any bizarre twist that would turn this situation into chaos. The old voice in his head that kept screaming at him to run grew more faint with each passing second. After a thorough examination of the statue, the large one stood and turned its head to the others, then called out a series of grunts and purrs that lit up the area in shimmering symbols. It wasn't game! The relief was overwhelming, but Mulder was still too afraid to give in to it. Every move the creatures made startled him. "I take it I'm not game, then?" Skinner glanced up, eyes still wide with wonder. The being made another sound, and Mulder frowned as he struggled to understand. Then his eyes grew wide and he turned to Skinner. "They said I should -- I can't explain it -- 'parent' you is the closest thing I can make." "Parent me?" "The big ones -- they, uh, can sorta take the little ones, uh, into their body. Only ones that they're related to." "Oh." "I think they teach them that way." Neither man moved, and the creature made the sound again. Mulder looked up at it and made a one word reply, then sat on the ground again. "Come over here, and wrap yourself around me -- sorta in my lap -- and make yourself as small as you can." Skinner raised one eyebrow skeptically, but did as he was bid. He lay on his side, with his head in Mulder's lap, pressed up against his belly, then curled his legs around the younger man's back. Mulder leaned forward over him, and wrapped both arms around him, then looked up and spoke again. There was a silence for a few moments, then the valley was filled with a soft purring. "I think this is a sorta -- intimate -- behavior. They seem to be -- flattered -- that we would share this with them." "Well, they did sorta insist." Skinner was having trouble breathing, with his face plastered to Mulder's belly and the younger man leaning over him. "How long do we have to be, uh, intimate?" It took a second for Skinner's words to register. "Oh, right." Mulder sat up, and removed his arms, then began to help Skinner uncurl himself. Before he could rise, several clawed hands pulled him away, then lifted Skinner to his feet as well. Mulder clutched Skinner's arm with his left hand and let out the breath he felt he'd been holding for days. "I thought I'd lost you." "I thought you lost both of us for a minute there, Mulder." Skinner put both hands on Mulder's shoulders, glancing first at the largest of the beings, still standing close. He turned and met his friend's gaze. "Are you all right?" "Yeah." Mulder nodded, glancing at the creatures all around them. "It's coming back, believe it or not." A soft grunting interrupted them and Mulder turned to face the creature, now sitting on its haunches. "These are the ones who taught me the language." He held out the statue in his right hand. "I can't believe I ever forgot this." "So ... they recognize you now?" "Yes." He nodded toward the other beings gathered around. "Under that shield, they couldn't see the statue. And I wasn't communicating." "Will someone communicate with me, here?" McMurray called out nervously from where he was still bound. Both men ignored him. Mulder held his hand out to the group surrounding them and struggled through his rusty memory for the proper terms. "Um ... Arve tanikwa. I ... damn, it's there, but --" "They're listening." Skinner spoke softly and gave Mulder's shoulder a gentle squeeze of encouragement. "Arve tanikwa, tanikwa davim." The symbols swirled and skittered over the silver, holding everyone's attention. Mulder added body language to his words, patting his forehead, then his chest, before pointing to his audience. "I told them I missed them, in my head." He glanced at Skinner. "I hope." His partner's grin was quickly followed by a movement behind the large creature. Immediately it stepped aside, and motioned for the smaller one behind it to come forward. Mulder stared in disbelief at the other one stepping forward, arms held folded tightly to its side. It approached, staring back at Mulder, until it was close enough to reach out and touch his forehead. With a surprisingly gentle finger, the hair covering his face was pushed aside, and a claw slowly traced the scar. Mulder had to remember to breathe again when the hand moved away. When it finished the examination, the creature turned and faced the others, who quickly gathered around. Each of them placed a hand on the cage floor, and a series of grunts, hums, purrs and calls caused multifaceted patterns to dance and swirl all around them. "What's going on?" Skinner leaned toward Mulder but kept his eyes on the spectacle before them. "I -- I'm not sure." He stared at the symbols, trying to follow the patterns as sections became familiar. "They ... they're talking about what happened. The station, and ... me." There were so many different sections of swirling, shifting shapes streaming about, he was getting confused. "They always talk too fast." "But you understand what they're saying?" Skinner watched the display with equal interest. "Some of it, yes." Mulder shook his head in wonder at the information pounding inside his skull. Information that had eluded him for so long. "They thought I was dead. I think ..." Mulder followed one pattern as it ran up a bar. "I think they thought the animals killed me." "Animals?" Skinner shot a glance at McMurray. "You mean Morgan?" Mulder nodded. "Anything that doesn't communicate is an animal. Food." He swallowed hard, pushing away those thoughts for the moment. "They never understood the species idea." "So, for them, everyone is an individual? Interesting." Skinner pointed to the largest one in the group. "He recognized you from the statue, then?" "He read it, so he knows who I am. I don't remember him, though. I remember the biggest one as being the first, the one who made these." Mulder touched his statue, then pointed at Skinner's. "But if you found that, then he's dead." "What do we do now?" Before Mulder could think of an answer, the meeting broke up. Several black bodies shimmered before their eyes, then slipped down into the ground, effectively answering the question of whether they could move through rock. The others stayed close and continued to confer together. The large one turned and walked back to Skinner, glancing for a moment at Mulder. He sat on massive haunches, then touched his head with one clawed hand, purring loudly. Mulder looked up at the pattern on the silver cage. The creature then moved his hand and touched his own chest, purring again. The markings shifted slightly, running up the structure. Then, it leaned forward. With a gentle touch, the heavy hand rested on Skinner's head, then moved with uncommon grace to his chest. Skinner remained motionless, and apparently quite calm. When the hand pulled back, he looked at Mulder. "I think I passed." "He said, if I saw that right ..." Mulder glanced again at the cage, then looked at the animal watching Skinner. "He remembered you from that night. That night out on the ice." He looked at his friend, suppressing a shudder at the memory. "He finds you brave and honorable." A smile tugged at the corner of Skinner's mouth and he glanced back at the being in front of him. "So do I." Mulder added. "If this love fest is over, would one of you get me loose?" Even the creatures ignored McMurray. "How do I thank him?" Skinner turned to Mulder. "Does body language play enough of a part with them?" Mulder could only nod and smile. He watched as his friend returned the hand gestures, touching the huge black creature on his head, then his chest. When he finished, the large one roared at the sky, startling both men, then wrapped Skinner up in a huge, warm embrace. Mulder would have laughed if he'd had any strength left in him. The sight of his friend's strong body, completely enveloped in a massive, black-scaled hug was almost as comical as it was heart-warming. When the being released Skinner, it stepped back and sat on his haunches again. Deadly teeth glistened white as a smile formed on the frightening face. "This is a bit ... overwhelming." Skinner glanced at Mulder, then smiled with almost child-like delight. "Will they talk with us?" "If I can remember the words, yes. They want to." Mulder swallowed and looked down at the sculpture in his hand. His head felt as if it had been suddenly over-filled with information. Sifting through it all wasn't easy. The smaller of the two creatures purred a series of tones and patted the floor. Both men took the hint and sat down, side by side. This one was much smaller than the large one, and the smile was a little less grotesque. A soft blue/lavender mix of circles flowed over the silver floor and up one metal bar, arm, and it pointed a delicate, clawed finger at the pattern. Mulder stared at the colors, concentrating on the shift as they moved up. "Thought animals killed ... you." He glanced at Skinner. "It thought the animals killed me." "Excuse me! Have we all forgotten something here?" No one even spared McMurray a glance. "OK, so how are you doing this?" Skinner pointed at the metal, the cage, then the statue. "You're using words, but they only purr and grunt." Mulder held his hand out in front of him. "I can't make all the sounds they do. This is just the best approximation I can make. They sorta -- interpret -- " Skinner blinked at the metal, watching the patterns course over its surface. They both glanced at their audience and found them nodding slowly, watching them. "They understand I'm teaching you something, but my words don't make sense to them." The patterns changed and swirled with each word. "I can't explain how I figured this out. Maybe I never really did, maybe it was given to me, or done to me, or an accident." Mulder shook his head. "All I know is, I can make some of the sounds. And when I have the statue in my hand, it's like the vibrations of my voice reflect through the metal, making the patterns. I think it has to do with the frequency of the metal. Or maybe the metal is part of them, somehow." Skinner's face broke out in a wide grin. "Damn, you're a clever one, Mulder." He wanted to laugh, but he was too tired. "What about the words you're using? They don't even seem to attempt any kind of pronunciation." Skinner nodded at the creatures watching them. "No, they don't form words. I just watched them, the shapes, when they'd show me a word. Then it took a while, but I figured out what combination of sounds I had to make in order to mimic the symbols and pattern. It took forever sometimes, but I made them into words I could say." He looked at the smaller one again and smiled slightly. "They were thrilled that night. I remember it now. This one was there, but even smaller, and they were thrilled to have finally discovered intelligent life." He grew silent for a moment. "They're all young. They're not sure how they came to be here. It's not in their -- racial -- memory." Skinner laughed and put a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Well, I'm pretty thrilled to have discovered intelligent life, too. I was beginning to think you and I were it down here." He pointed to the creatures. "Can you teach me how?" "Oh, right! Yes." He looked into his partner's eyes. "The small one's name is Kayla." The pattern on the statue he held shifted, mimicking the changes on the bars of the cage. He held it out and looked at the small one, meeting its curious gaze. "Kayla." The teal and gray spiral pattern flowed gently over the metal. Skinner pointed to his chest. "Skinner." Another collection of symbols appeared, deep blue and olive green in bold, striking lines. Mulder felt a warmth inside, watching the pattern that was Skinner's name repeated by every creature there. The entire structure lit up with deep blue and olive shimmering up each arm as every animal tried out the name, then repeated it twice for memory. When the color faded back to silver, the big one pointed to his chest and hummed, sending another wave of brown and deep wine up each arm. "How do I figure that out?" Skinner glanced at Mulder, eyebrows raised. "I think they're related. Try a variant of the small one's name." Skinner cleared his throat softly and held out the statue in his right hand. "Al - Yak." With each syllable, colors appeared, but they were different. He cleared his throat and tried again. "La - Kay." This time his attempt was almost perfect. "La - Kay." "Yes! That's it!" Mulder pointed at the pattern, matching the brown and wine perfectly. Again the room exploded in purrs and high-pitched calling as the excitement echoed through the group. La-Kay reached out and touched Skinner's shoulder, his huge grin exposing bone crushing teeth. "I think I've made a friend." "I know you have." Mulder sighed tiredly, then nodded at Kayla. "This one is impressed." Skinner turned to him. "What are they called? As a group, I mean. Do they have a name?" "Wa - teri - kem. As near as I can tell it means 'group of children.'" Mulder felt the exhaustion creeping back, tugging at his mind and body. "They live for thousands of our years. I remember it -- the first one -- telling me once how old it was. The one that made the statue. It was two thousand and something years old. But it was still a child. It hadn't been born yet." He shook his head in wonder at the information so readily available now. "Walter, I don't think that graveyard is really a graveyard." "Are you serious?" "I think they live a really long time. An incredibly long time. In stages. Or phases." His vision blurred for a moment and he blinked rapidly to clear it. "OK, how do we tell them you're exhausted?" Skinner started to reach out with his right hand to touch Mulder's face, then stopped, staring him in the eyes. "No, I don't want to lose this yet." Mulder shook his head. After all that time, all that loneliness and blind terror. To finally have some answers -- real ones ... He wasn't ready to walk away yet. "Walter, it's been too long. I need to understand all of this." Skinner didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway. "OK." The big one hummed, and an actual question mark, in orange, flowed over the floor. Mulder pointed to the symbol, grinning despite his exhaustion. "Look! I taught them that! God, I can't believe they remembered." Skinner reached out again, resting his right hand on Mulder's head. A look of deep concern crossed his face and he turned to the smaller creature. With two fingers of his left hand, he touched his temple, then one eye. Mulder didn't have to ask what Skinner was trying to get across, but he did wonder how his friend figured out the body language to do it. It nodded understanding, then pointed at Skinner and made a sound. "I think it wants to talk to you." Mulder shifted his weight and pulled his legs out from under him. "They can teach you some words, and I'll just watch. OK?" Before Skinner could answer, he scooted back until he could lean up against the silver cage McMurray was still tied to, ignoring the frustrated sounds coming from the man. "For a little while, Mulder. I guess we're safe enough now, huh?" Mulder nodded, fighting a heaviness in his legs and arms. After a moment's hesitation, Skinner stood and turned back to the creatures. He followed Kayla to the first of the other Wa - teri - kem grouped around them and began the naming lesson. "No -- no hard feelings, right, Mulder?" Mulder ignored McMurray. He leaned back, resting his head against the pillar, and watched his friend. Kayla introduced each of the others, then waited with great patience while Skinner tried out sounds and syllables until he was able to reproduce the colors and patterns of each. He followed the names as they coursed up the bars of the structure, enjoying the strange feeling of familiarity he'd never known before. With each name, Skinner found the matching sounds more and more quickly. Mulder realized with some surprise that he was feeling pride, watching his friend pick up so easily on something no one else seemed to understand. No one but him. Watching the symbols was bringing it all back. The simple logic of a language so beautifully expressed, spoken by beings who understood intelligence in such a different way. "You can't leave me here, you know!" McMurray's shout startled Mulder awake. Skinner was kneeling beside him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Something looked different. "It's been nearly six hours, Mulder. I think they want to say goodnight." Skinner moved to the side and La - Kay approached. Mulder forced his eyes open wide to wake himself up and sat forward, swallowing. La - Kay purred and looked over its massive shoulder toward McMurray, still tied to the bar. "Pon delar." McMurray stared at the beast, wide-eyed. "What did it say? What did it say!?" Mulder looked at Skinner. "He asked if he was the one." Mulder made an answering sound, then glanced over at McMurray. "I said no." La - Kay turned back to Mulder and rested a hand on his head, then purred again. As soon as the symbols reached the top of the cage, he backed up. "They'll meet us again tomorrow." Mulder leaned back again. They watched the Wa - teri - kem, one by one, seem to melt into an oily film and disappear into the soil beneath their feet. "I can't get over how beautiful their language is, Mulder." Skinner shook his head, watching the last of them vanish into the rock, leaving not a trace. "You understand, then? You saw it, just as clearly as I did?" Mulder scrambled to his feet, excitement quickly replacing his need for sleep. Skinner smiled, nodding. He put both hands on Mulder's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Yes, I did. You're not dreaming." "Thank God," he breathed. The memories were real now. "What do we do now? About Morgan, I mean? Why did he bring you out here?" "Don't tell me it's not obvious!" McMurray laughed shortly and both men turned to look at him. "Oh, forgive me, I forgot. Your mind doesn't work that way. Well, here, let me help you out there." "Shut up, McMurray." Skinner ran a hand over his face and sighed. "He needed you to remember how it was done." "Morgan?" Mulder looked at Skinner. "He used you to force me to remember, didn't he? So I could teach him. Is that it?" "Mulder ... " "He used me." Mulder's eyebrows creased as he struggled to put things together. "He used me and I let him! I let him! You would have died if I hadn't remembered!" "Mulder!" "But I didn't! I didn't remember until it was almost too late!" Skinner grabbed Mulder's arms. "No, you did remember! Listen to me, Mulder. The only thing you did tonight was save my life." He paused, emphasizing his words with a firm grip on the other man's arms. "That's all that happened tonight. You saved my life. How you got here, or why -- none of that matters." Mulder swallowed, staring up into warm, brown eyes that never wavered. Slowly, he nodded. He wanted to believe that. "There's only one way out of this valley. You'll still have to go back there." Skinner inhaled slowly, then rose to his feet. He walked to McMurray and released the restraint holding the man in place. "This isn't over." McMurray shook himself, then struggled to get to his feet, glaring at both of them. Skinner ignored the man and turned back to Mulder. "Run away, McMurray." Nervously, the man backed up, stumbling several times. His gaze darted from Skinner to Mulder and back again as he licked his lips. "It isn't over. You have to go through him to get out of here." "Run away, McMurray!" Skinner's voice echoed off the mountain walls and set McMurray into motion. He dashed off the platform and ran, tripping and sliding, down the path toward the caverns. As soon as he was out of sight, Skinner sighed deeply and stretched both arms high above his head. That was when Mulder slammed into him. It was clumsy, and maybe a bit awkwardly done, but he needed that embrace more than any amount of sleep or reassurance just then. Mulder wrapped both arms around Skinner, pressing hard against the other man. With his ear up against his friend's chest, he could feel and hear his heart beating strongly. Alive! "I thought I was going to lose you." All the stress, all the frantic searching and blind terror that had led him through the caverns and tunnels, past the mobbing people, all of that terror that had fueled him into the night, with the dark all around him and the stars shining down, it all came crashing over Mulder like a wave of dizzying emotion. Nothing would have mattered if he'd failed in this one important task. None of it would have made any difference or changed any lives, if Skinner hadn't been right here, right now, alive. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, face pressing into his friend's chest while both hands pulled at his back. When he became aware of Skinner's arms around him as well, he realized they were holding him up as much as returning the gesture. "I'm sorry." Mulder breathed into Skinner's shirt without pulling back to speak more clearly. "This is all my fault. If only I --" "No." Skinner's chest rumbled in Mulder's ear when he spoke. "It's not your fault, Mulder." He paused a moment, tightening his arms around the other man. "That's one thing that doesn't need to come back with your memory." "Huh?" Mulder's voice was a mumble against Skinner's shirt. "You have always had an unfailing ability to take blame for things that are not possibly your fault. It needs to stop." He sighed softly, and let his head drop to rest against Mulder's. "This was all out of your hands, and mine." Mulder pulled back then, enough to look into Skinner's eyes. "Morgan had this planned from the moment we stepped into that tunnel. I think, in fact, if we hadn't come when we did, he would have come out looking for you." "I wouldn't have helped him. I couldn't." Mulder shook his head and several long strands of hair fell in front of his right eye. He didn't let go to move them. "Until right now, I didn't know how. I swear, it's still coming back but I didn't have it eight hours ago. It was you. I never could have gotten it back on my own." Skinner laughed softly, then bent down and kissed the top of Mulder's head. "I hope fame and fortune never swell this head of yours, Mulder." He didn't know what that meant, but he knew how he felt. "It won't." He pressed himself close again, then let go and turned around. For an instant, he felt dizzy. Suddenly Skinner was the only thing holding him upright. "OK, now you get some real sleep." With no effort at all, Skinner pulled Mulder against his right side and supported him as they walked off the platform, toward the path leading down to the valley. "But what about Morgan?" Mulder leaned gratefully into the body holding him on his feet. "McMurray was right, the only way out is through that tunnel." "Don't worry about Morgan, Mulder." Skinner secured the man against his side. "I think we've got friends in high places now." ********************** Iced 13/15 Skinner hooked an arm around his exhausted friend, and half-led, half-carried Mulder off the plateau and down the ridge to the valley bowl. The moon was still shining brightly when they reached the even ground. All around them, pockets of steam rose from openings in the earth, heating the area that should have been negative zero in temperature. Skinner stopped by a large pool of warm water, eyeing it speculatively. "Let's get some rest here, Mulder. I'm all sweaty; I need a wash." Skinner kept his arm around Mulder's shoulders until the younger man was safely sitting on the ground, stifling a huge yawn. "Are we safe here? Morgan's men might head out after us when McMurray gets to them." Skinner looked at the next rise blocking their view of the valley and caves beyond. "I don't think he'll bother. There's only one way out. He knows that." Skinner pulled off his shirt and let the pack and shield fall to the soft ground. "If he sends his men out he'd be less able to stop us from leaving if we managed to get past them." He pulled off his shoes and let them fall next to the shirt. "We're safe enough here; you get some sleep. I'm too wired." The pants were next. He was so anxious for a good soak he nearly tripped pulling them off. "Man, so much happened so fast my head is spinning." "Welcome to my world." "Yeah." Skinner ruffled Mulder's hair with one hand, then nodded toward the pool. "Listen, get some rest. I'll keep an eye out while I'm washing up." Mulder nodded, then almost reluctantly let himself lie back on the soft ground. He was asleep in seconds. The water was like an anesthetic to his system. When Skinner surfaced from his initial dip, the sweat was already beginning to drip from his head onto his face. He moved several yards to the north, then back toward Mulder again before finding a good spot to stand and clean up properly. Dried blood still caked the back of his head, making his scalp itch. He was hardly aware of what he was doing. His hands automatically went about the task of cleaning off twenty-four hours of sweat and blood while his mind tried hard to sift through everything that had happened. It was all so complex, and yet in a way, beautifully simple and pure. The creatures -- or rather -- Wa- teri - kem as they were called, had proven not only intelligent and interesting, but he suspected they were superior to human kind in many ways. Granted, they were ways which most people wouldn't agree on. But the military man in him admired their sense of simplicity and order. If it didn't communicate, it was food. If it was trainable, use it. But if it did have demonstrated intelligence, share knowledge with it freely. And the language! Once he'd gotten the hang of finding the proper combination of syllables and sounds to mimic the symbols and patterns they showed him, then put those sounds into newly formed words he could put to memory -- the language was astounding! Skinner's mind was still reeling with the amount of information he'd absorbed throughout the night. Both Kayla and La - Kay delighted in showing their new student the words for everything they could find, and then some. He learned everything from ground to the moon, the articles of clothing he was wearing, the parts of both the human and Wa- teri - kem body. With each new word, his time spent finding the proper sounds to mirror the pattern decreased. And that in turn increased his teacher's delight. Skinner was sure Katherine and the others would pick up on this new language quickly, once they learned the truth. In the time since he'd come here, in all of his speculations about what had truly happened to the first group, he'd never expected this. That first bloody encounter had set the stage for his own -- and everyone else's -- assumption that they were dealing with an animal. Like the sharks of the oceans who never stopped swimming or the giant T. Rex of the Cretaceous, he assumed these creatures were simply animals. Eating machines with no real emotion or creative thought processes to get in the way of survival and procreation. Skinner shook himself back into the here and now and got out of the pool. He used his shirt to dry off with, then slipped back into his pants and sat on the ground next to his sleeping friend. They'd have to go back through the caverns to get out of this valley, and he really should be putting his mind to that task. But his thoughts were still too muddled with so many new discoveries. Beside him, Mulder stirred and opened his eyes, squinting through the dark to find Skinner. "Are we going back now?" "No, not yet." Skinner settled back, leaning on his hands, and stretched long legs out in front of him. "We'll stay out here a bit longer, head back close to dinner. Go back to sleep." "I let the others go. Did I tell you that?" Skinner blinked, meeting Mulder's tired gaze. "No. What do you mean?" "They cornered me at the door to the tunnel. I don't even know how I got there, but they wouldn't let me go until I opened it for them." "And?" Mulder's statement was so casually delivered, Skinner could hardly comprehend the importance of what he was saying. Mulder shrugged. "So I did. They left and got out of my way." "So they're gone? That could be interesting." His brain was too tired now to deal with that bit, so he filed it away for contemplation later. "At least you know where that tunnel is now. Once we get back, we can explain to the others how your language works. We could be on the brink of a whole new world, Mulder. A meeting of cultures, if you will." "Yeah." Mulder shrugged again, then curled up against Skinner's thigh with an arm draped over his leg. He pressed his face into the older man's leg and got comfortable again. "That's what I thought the first time, too." "Right." Skinner sighed and looked out over the landscape. "Well, maybe this time they'll listen." The warmth of the water had soaked into him, relaxing him bone-deep. He knew, deep down, that Peters' group would listen. As soon as they learned that the Wa- teri - kem were intelligent, and how to communicate with them, they would all jump at the chance. He was sure of it. How could they not? After all, it was what they were sent to do. He was certain of that. The other team had had its members decimated, most of the scientists killed in the attacks leaving technicians and mechanics to fall in line with the military leaders. It was no wonder they'd all panicked and fled, faced with the thought that their worst nightmare could be their cultural equal. Oh God, am I defending them now? No! No, he was just tired, thinking through some random stray thoughts that had no business being there in the first place. Skinner ran a hand over his head, then gently felt the bump on the back of his skull. It was already shrinking, and the headache was completely gone. He really wanted to practice what he'd learned, but to do that would wake Mulder. This man had been through hell and back so many times lately, he wasn't about to keep him from a few good hours of sleep. The language was fascinating, and impossible to practice in your head. The vibrations through the air and your own hand movements were in intricate part of forming the shapes and patterns. And one incorrect vowel sound or improperly enunciated tone could make the difference between 'ground' and 'game,' as he quickly learned. Trying to repeat the word Kayla had used instantly brought him an offering of dinner from one of the more bashful ones watching his learning attempts. Skinner sighed and glanced at the ridge again for any signs of visitors. There was too much to absorb in one night, and they did have more pressing matters to attend to. Morgan's plan to violently force Mulder's abilities back had worked. And for that Skinner wanted to both kill the man, and thank him. But he was convinced killing would win out. To do that, he had to get back to the caverns, where McMurray had no doubt already run to spread the news. Which meant they'd be expected, and Morgan would know his plan worked. What he meant to do with that information was still to be seen. But it was a sure bet Skinner wouldn't like it. So they'd make their own plans. Mulder had found the tunnel. How or where was a mystery, but he had. Skinner glanced down at the sleeping form pressed against his leg. Everything was so matter-of-fact with him, so black and white. Skinner truly admired that, especially in the face of the total chaos that had been Mulder's life for so long. Condemned by virtue of his father's career choice to a life that left him alienated much of the time, then finally, isolated here, at the Pole; subjected to nightly terror for week after week, month after month, watching members of his group dying horrific deaths -- only to then find the answer that could have saved them all, and to have been abandoned because of it. No tired mind or wandering thought could ever form a kind image of that type of behavior. Those people had to pay for what they did. Morgan had to pay for what he did. But first things first. He wanted to get Mulder out of this valley and back to the station, then back home to his life. Now that they knew the truth, they were in control. All they had to do was get past Morgan and the guards, get back to their 'cat and radio for Peters and the others. Then back to the station, regroup, and deal with it. Skinner closed his eyes and eased himself down to the ground. From the angle of the ground, he could quickly open one eye and see the ridge where any visitors would cross in plenty of time. He put his instincts on automatic and let his tired mind get some rest. In a few hours, he'd rise and work out a game plan with Mulder. But for now, the relaxing lassitude that the pool had instilled was begging him to nap. The patterns were everywhere. He'd seen them before, all the time, but never really looked at them until now. Skinner gazed up at the canopy of greens, up to the sky beyond. All his life they'd been there, shifting markings that shimmered and moved against the unending greens and browns above and around him. He could see it now. For once, he could really see. It was as if everything around him had been born again, taken on new life. It was as if the trees themselves were talking to him. He strained to move, then saw the red that had spilled onto the jungle floor. He stared at it, confused. Watching as the red patterns shifted with his movements. Red was wrong, and yet, he couldn't tell how he knew. It was as if the jungle was speaking to him, using some strange kind of language he couldn't understand. And he could hear it, too. A deep, rumbling kind of sound that changed with the patterns. The jungle was alive! All this time, the soulless hell of heat and horror was alive and trying to speak to him. Skinner felt suddenly compelled to communicate with the ground. But he needed something. A medium. He rolled away from his radioman's shattered body, and stared back at it, confused. How could his friend be dead when the very ground they lay on was so alive and speaking to them? He furrowed his brow for a moment, then decided maybe the trees hadn't been speaking when he died. Perhaps they were trying to end this senseless war, stop the ravaging and needless death surrounding them. If he could only communicate with them, then maybe he'd understand. He needed something to make the marks, something to form the symbols. Skinner reached for his knife, holding the point over his chest. He took a deep breath, bit down hard, and plunged! "No!" "What?" Mulder pushed himself off Skinner's leg with a start, eyes darting around, searching for the cause of such alarm. "Oh, man." Skinner shook his head, then waved a hand in apology for the rude awakening. "Sorry, just a dream." Mulder nodded sleepily, then yawned and looked at Skinner's watch. "It's getting late." "Not so late. We've got time." Skinner stretched both arms over his head, then reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. The dream was quickly fading from memory as his stomach growled for attention. "We'll have to head back soon, if only to eat." He got up, then offered Mulder a hand to help him to his feet. "The water feels pretty good, if you want to get cleaned up." "That bad, huh?" Mulder smiled tiredly then shook his head. "Never mind, I could use a wash." Skinner laughed. "I'm gonna wander over to the ridge and take a look-see. I won't be gone long." It took about fifteen minutes to make a quick survey of the area and decide that Morgan hadn't sent anyone out after them. Which made sense. Insane or not, the man had to know they were coming back. They had no choice. He turned several options around in his mind, then sighed and walked back to their resting spot. Mulder was just coming back from the pool, shirt in hand, ringing water from his long, dark hair. "Do you think those people headed back for the station last night?" Mulder sat on the ground next to Skinner and took the water bottle the older man handed him. "I suppose they would. They didn't seem afraid to be outside in the dark. They must have gotten the vehicles going though; I don't seem them making it otherwise. Perhaps they've grown complacent. Your Wa- teri - kem friends had them trained pretty well." Skinner took the water bottle back and drank deeply. "I get the feeling they're smarter than we are in some respects." "Yeah." Mulder picked at the ground, shaking his head. "What's wrong?" "I don't ... It's ... " He fell silent and stared at the dirt, obviously struggling with a thought. "I have a memory now of them, a very pleasant one. I can't really bring back specifics or anything, but I get this general feeling of -- I guess wonder -- when I think of them." Mulder looked up at Skinner. "But I also have the other memories. The killing, the blood, the ... eating." He swallowed and shook his head. "I can't seem to bring those two together. The Wa- teri - kem are my friends, my family, and yet I still feel the same terror when I try imagining them." He shrugged and picked up a small stone, then threw it in frustration. "I don't know, it doesn't make sense." "I know, Mulder, but it's all right to feel confused right now." "No." Mulder shook his head decisively then met Skinner's gaze again. "You don't have a problem with it. You've seen them kill, and now you've talked with them. You're not afraid of them at all now, and you have every reason to feel safe. I know they'll never hurt me now. Now that I remember. But I'm still terrified of ... " "Of being alone again?" Mulder let his gaze fall to the grass and nodded. "You could respect them as animals when you thought that's all they were. Now you can admire them for their intelligence. And you have no trouble dealing with that change." "Listen, Mulder. You have to understand, no one can possibly say what is or isn't right for you to think or feel. No one has ever been through what you have. They can't hold you up to any standard of behavior any more than you can hold yourself up to one and make comparisons." Skinner paused, watching his friend's expression for any hint he was really hearing what was being said. "You admire me for how I can cope with the change in how we view these creatures. That's nothing compared to how you've coped with everything in your life, from your sister's disappearance, to the life that led you to, to this place, and these people, and the cumulative impact of it all." The younger man stopped tossing rocks and looked up, meeting Skinner's gaze. "Mulder, you made contact with an alien intelligence." Skinner leaned forward, emphasizing his point with a serious tone. "That's no small thing. You've got a language here, a relationship, with beings just as highly developed as we are, if not more so." He seemed to ponder that for a moment, then raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. "It's got to feel good to have those questions finally answered, at least." Mulder sighed and looked out over the landscape for a moment before answering. "It feels like I always knew." He turned back to Skinner. "I didn't know, until now. But it feels like I always did." "You always did, Mulder. You've held to your beliefs in the face of tremendous challenge. Oh, you've wavered now and then. You've questioned. But you've never really stopped believing." "It's all here, now." He tapped his head, brushing the long hair back as he did so. "Memories are funny that way, Mulder." Skinner handled his statue. "So, am I right in assuming that this," he touched the barely visible marking on the figure's torso, "is the written language? And what we did with them, that was their spoken language?" Mulder nodded, sliding a finger across the metal. "Yeah, that's right. The metal is -- I don't know -- partially organic, maybe? It's from where they're from. You have to use their -- blood, I guess you'd call it -- to make it animate." He was silent, staring for a while at the statue, seemingly lost in a thought. "What you said back there, when you told them McMurray wasn't 'the one.' What was that about?" Skinner placed the statue on the ground beside him and picked up a rock, idly tossing it back and forth between his hands as he watched Mulder. "They wanted to know if he was the one who left me, back then. Who hurt me. They can't tell people apart very well." Skinner nodded. He couldn't help compare that trait to one his partner exhibited. "What would they have done if you'd said he was?" Mulder shrugged. "Killed him, I suppose. But I don't understand why he was out here with you." The younger man's casual attitude was no longer surprising in regards to McMurray's life or death. But Skinner still vowed justice when they returned to civilization. "Just a convenient way for Morgan to be rid of him, I'm sure. That whole murder set up was designed to split us up one way or the other, but he needed both of us alive for this to work. McMurray just got used, that's all." "And I played right into his hands, didn't I?" "No." Skinner shook his head and discarded the rock. "You did everything right. If it happened to be the same thing Morgan wanted, that's his problem. We're not giving him what he ultimately wants, and that's you. Or rather, what you can do." "If he thinks I'm going to teach him how to talk to them, he's wrong." Mulder tossed his own rock away with some force. "Just because I remembered how doesn't change anything." "No, it doesn't. But I don't think he bargained on you letting his people out of this valley, either. Now he probably figures he can gather them back soon enough, since it's dark, and the station is so far away. Who knows what the real weather is like out there -- storms, and wind, and the cold. Leaving like that may not have been their wisest choice of action. Still, that had to alter Morgan's plans slightly. If nothing else, it bought us some distraction." Skinner contemplated the layout of the caverns in his mind's eye. "Did they all leave? Every one of them?" Mulder shook his head slowly. "No, not all of them. Some were still wandering around when I got outside. I think they didn't all want to leave." "Good. So he's got some sheep to deal with, still." "How does that help us?" "Knowledge helps us, Mulder." Skinner stood and wiped dirt from his pants, then looked down at his friend. "The more we know, the better prepared we'll be." "What are we going to do?" Mulder looked up, eyebrows creased with concern. "He's got armed guards, and there's only one way in." Skinner reached a hand down and pulled Mulder to his feet. "I've counted five guards, all total. How about you?" "I suppose." Mulder pulled his shirt on, then picked up the pack and slipped it on. "Then there's Morgan and McMurray." "We've got friends, too." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder, then steered him toward the narrow section of the crevice where they could cross more easily. "If I did it right, I've asked our Wa- teri - kem friends to come to the caverns tonight." Mulder paused for a second, looking up at Skinner. "Why?" "Well, I was going to introduce them to their pets. Let the people know that they could, if they chose, communicate and learn from each other. But, since you've let them out, and we've got Morgan to deal with, we just might need a little help convincing him to let us leave." Skinner kept their pace slow and easy, making sure their return trip didn't exhaust his friend more than it had to. He spent some time practicing the Wa-teri-kem words he'd learned with Mulder's help, then learned a few more on the way. Some of the pronunciations came back to the younger man quickly and easily, where others took time. Mulder seemed able to remember the patterns in conjunction with the proper item more readily than the syllables required to produce them. "You said they live for thousands of years, didn't you?" Skinner paused for a moment and rubbed his throat. Some of the sounds were straining. "Yeah. I'm not sure exactly how long, but I think they do live a really long time. Longer than we can conceive of." Mulder stumbled and Skinner reached out quickly, steadying him. "Thanks. They, uh, live in different stages." "Stages?" "Yeah. I, uh, don't think I've met an adult yet. I think they're -- different. And the really young ones, these, I guess you'd call them adolescents, they keep the young ones away. I don't think the young ones are completely sentient." "Why do you say that?" "You've seen how they sorta -- dissolve -- when they go back in the ground? I think they start out like that - all black and oily." "Yeah?" "Then they find -- " Mulder gulped audibly, "or take, a host and sorta, I don't know, mutate into what we've seen." "But they can still go liquid?" "Yeah. And their family structures are complex. The, uh, 'parenting' thing that we did, that's sorta how they, uhm," Mulder face was burning, the blush visible even in the moonlight, "well, it's a thing they can only do with the ones they're related to. They can start a new one that way, or if one of the young ones is injured, or sick, or, uh, doesn't do as instructed, they can, well, reabsorb that one back into one of the older ones." "You've seen that?" Mulder shrugged. "Yeah." "And the point in having you 'parent' me in front of the group?" "They, uh, see me as the, uh, -- dominant? Well, not really dominant, not really more intelligent ..." Mulder paused for a moment, thinking hard, and Skinner stopped with him. "They see me as the first one, that's it." He resumed his course. "And so I should be able to do the merge thing with everyone, because, by their way of thinking, I was first so everything comes from me." Skinner laughed. "Well, in a way, they're right. You were first, and everything we know about them does come from you." Mulder stumbled again and this time Skinner put a hand on his arm and left it there. "Did they accept what we did as the human version of their thing?" Mulder shrugged again. "I guess so. They didn't ask any questions. I think it's something that's done, but not talked about, you know?" They walked on in silence, Mulder leaning more heavily on Skinner as they went. "I want you to have your statue out when we get inside, Mulder. Just keep it ready, OK?" "Are we going in now?" Skinner stopped and released Mulder, waiting to make sure the younger man was steady on his feet. "We're going to take this head on, partner. Stick with me, and we have nothing to be afraid of." "No worries there." Skinner glanced at the moonlit sky, then looked ahead at the cavern entrance several yards away. From below, they could see shadows moving in the light of Morgan's rooms. "The light doesn't really keep them away, does it? They just don't see as well in it." "Light to them is like darkness to us." Mulder slid his right hand into the pack, and pulled out the statue. "OK." Skinner stepped forward, approaching the side entrance with confidence. "You know how to do that, don't you?" Mulder hurried to keep up, staying slightly behind Skinner as they got closer to the caves. "You can just reach into my head and make me remember stuff just by asking a question." Skinner grinned down at his friend but didn't stop their approach. "It's more the other way around, Mulder. You reach into your head and, when you're ready, the answers are there waiting." Before Mulder could question his reply, Skinner pushed the curtain aside and led the way straight back in to the caverns. ***************************************** The main floor was nothing like the place they'd seen before. Tables and pillows littered the floor where fires burned in their pits heating empty pots. Voices echoed through the huge chamber as people scattered about, making frightful sounds and dropping items off high ledges in their scurry to gather belongings. All were stragglers who either stayed late out of fear, or wanted to pillage what their former cave-mates had left behind. Skinner felt Mulder's hand grip his waistband. A woman, wild-eyed and disheveled, ran past them, both arms laden with goods. She didn't pause or take note of either man in her dash for an empty pot half buried in the dirt. "Mulder, do you know where all these people came from? I never could get a count, but there are far too many to just be from the first group." Mulder turned and looked at Skinner, and emptiness filling his normally bright eyes. "But the first group wasn't really the first. They were -- " he closed his eyes for a moment, almost as if in pain, "they were at the other site, the one I found when -- " the eyes closed again, and this time there was a wince, as he fought for control. "It's OK, Mulder. We don't have to do this now." "Yes. Yes, we do." One hand came up and pressed against his eyes, then pushed the dark hair back. "There was a place -- No! A ship! In the ice. I was following -- searching for something -- someone ... "Mulder." Skinner turned slightly and Mulder released his grasp. "Don't push yourself so hard. Let it come on its own." "No, I remember. The people. All the people were at that other place. I was searching for --" He shook his head, the dark hair flying loose around his face. "They were there -- the Wa-teri. In big cylinders. Before I knew what they were." Skinner stared at the man in amazement. "You've seen these beings before?" Mulder nodded mutely. "Mulder ... that was almost four years ago!" "I wrote it up. Scully wouldn't let me file it though. She didn't see any of it. We had a huge fight about it all. What to report, what to just leave as informal notes. We never seem to agree on things like that." He looked up then, and a wide smile burst across his features. "Hey, I remember Scully!" Skinner couldn't help but laugh at the look of sheer wonder on his friend's face. "I remember Scully!" Mulder launched himself at Skinner again, wrapping the bigger man in a huge embrace. "Oh, man! I remember Scully, and the FBI. It's all there, all there like it was never missing!" Skinner was chuckling now and he returned the younger man's embrace. "Scully said to tell you she kept your fish alive for you." Mulder loosened his embrace, but let his head rest on the other man's shoulder. "It would be the longest any of them ever lived if she did." He shifted slightly and asked, "Did you know I play basketball?" Skinner could feel the man smile against his shoulder and he patted his friend's back. "There's a lot I didn't know about you." "I remember." It was said softly this time, the words muffled against Skinner's shirt. And then it happened. Skinner felt his friend stiffen, and then pull back quickly. "Oh, God. I remember you!" This was said in a tone Skinner could only describe as horrified, embarrassed, mortified, and he had to laugh once more. Mulder stared, open-mouthed at his boss for a moment, then turned to pace a few feet away. "Oh, my God. I remember you. I -- we -- that is, you ... " Both hands came up to cover his face. "Oh, God! I've been sleeping with my boss!" Skinner laughed again and reached out to snag his frantic agent and force him to still. "Not in the biblical sense, Mulder. And it's all right." The younger man was standing before him, staring at the ground. "I can't believe what I've done." "Mulder." "Oh, God." "Mulder." "What the hell happened to me? What did those bastards do to me?" "Mulder!" His agent looked up at last, slowly meeting his eyes. "Mulder, what do you remember? Everything?" A slow nod up and down. "Oh, God. Yes. How could you let me be -- like that?" "Do you remember the time you were at the station, alone?" Mulder shuddered, then nodded. "It was like I was living in this great big void. I knew there were things missing. I was aware, in a warped sort of way, of how much I wasn't aware of." He looked up to check the older man's reaction. "If that makes sense?" Skinner nodded. "And the past few months. Do you remember the past few months?" "Since the last team got here?" Another nod. "Yeah." "Then you remember what it was like. How things were for you." The nod this time was more tentative, and some of the consternation seeped from the younger man's face. "You remember what I told you about friendship?" The forehead creased as Mulder thought. "Nothing would change, even after my memory came back." Skinner reached out and grabbed his agent by the shoulders, forcing him to move a few steps closer. "I meant that, Agent Mulder. Nothing has changed." Hazel eyes met deep brown for a long moment, then a tall lanky body stepped forward into another strong embrace. It was awkward this time, the ease and familiarity of the past few months was strained, but it was a step forward. "I guess I'm the one not being a very good friend," Mulder's muttered, even as some of the stiffness eased from his body. "I'm sorry, Sir." "Walter." Mulder relaxed more, the exhaustion of the long hours threatening to overwhelm him again, the sensory overload of his recovered memories just adding to his fatigue. "Walter," he echoed. They stood that way for a long moment, comfort and reassurance needed by both men. It wasn't until there was a sound from above that Mulder pulled away ago, stepping back on shaky legs, and accepting Skinner's hand until he had his balance. Skinner glanced up to Morgan's level. There were no guards outside the door. He headed to the nearest walkway leading up, keeping both eyes and ears on full alert. In the distance, authoritative shouts echoed down a hallway, ordering unseen people back to their rooms. Five guards. Probably at least two of them had been sent on round-up patrol, possibly even down the tunnel and out. There was at least one up and to their left, shouting orders that apparently went unheeded. Erring on the side of caution, Skinner judged there to be at least three still up there with Morgan. "OK, Mulder, we have a choice to make." Skinner paused, looking back at his agent. "We end this guy's god complex once and for all. Or we head for the tunnel and leave him here." Mulder shook his head once, decisively. "He tried to kill you. If we leave him here, he could do it again." "He tried to kill you, too," Skinner said quietly. Mulder shrugged. "That, too." He pulled himself erect and stared unflinchingly at Skinner. "I'd say it's time the bastard answered for his actions." Skinner inhaled slowly and glanced over Mulder's shoulder for a moment. He'd come here to find his agent. He'd met that objective, reached that goal. But he was also an officer of the law, representing the justice all of humanity had agreed to live by, and he was sworn to uphold. "I agree. And as much as I'd love to ..." He sighed again and met Mulder's gaze. "We have to bring him back. Back to the station and then back to the real world. There has to be justice." "McMurray or Morgan?" "Both." Skinner searched his partner's eyes. It occurred to him then, oddly, that he could almost see the difference in this Mulder who remembered, as opposed to the one who did not. "Are you OK with that? Do you understand why?" Mulder glanced down, then shrugged slightly and nodded. "You don't have to worry about me understanding. I know what they did. It's time to put an end to Morgan's megomaniacal cosmology. And if McMurray gets caught in the backlash, so be it." Skinner nodded his acceptance, then turned back toward their intended goal and tentatively touched his friend's shoulder. "Let's go then." A few yards from the unguarded entrance, McMurray's voice could be heard bouncing from the walls inside as he argued with Morgan. "It won't work, dammit! I'm telling you, they know him! They remembered him from before!" "Shut up, you spineless fool! I haven't come all this way to fail. Obviously my plan worked. Now I just have to get the bastard to show me how it's done. Then I can get my sheep back. Then I will rule the world!" "And they called me 'Spooky.'" Mulder's muttered comment forced Skinner to swallow a chuckle. He stopped at the entrance and shot a glance through a small opening in the wall ahead. "OK, Mulder. I'm sure they're here. We'll have help the instant we need it. I hope." "Don't worry, I think you're right." Mulder put the statue into his right hand and held it out of sight. He nodded to Skinner, then followed him inside. "I don't think your friend here can be trusted anymore, do you, McMurray?" Skinner scanned the room quickly as they walked in. Two guards stood beside Morgan, guns in hand. The only other occupants were the two men who caused it all. "Ah, yes, the prodigal returns." Morgan turned to face them and smiled a smile that seemed to suck all emotion from his face. With a swirl of robes, he took several steps to the center of the room, then waved a hand for the guards to flank him. "I understand my little experiment was a success?" Skinner glanced at Mulder, but his friend remained silent, staring back at Morgan. "Oh come, come now. You should be thanking me for bringing your mind back." Morgan shook his head in mock reprimand, then looked at Skinner. "And I just bet he taught you a few tricks, seeing as how you were out so long." Skinner lowered his head slightly and managed to look down at the man. "You're not going to win this time, Morgan." "He did." McMurray stepped forward, nodding frantically. He wiped a shaking hand over his sweaty forehead, then pointed a finger at Skinner. "Mulder taught him how to do it. Something about the metal. He knows, he can tell you." Morgan stared at Skinner, then sighed deeply and glanced up at the ceiling. Slowly, he let his breath out, then turned to look at McMurray. "But you were there, too. And yet you can't seem to tell me anything." "I was tied up, you fool! If you hadn't double-crossed me in the first place, I might have been able to track them on the way back. It was a little hard to pay attention when I was part of the bait!" "You bore me, McMurray." Morgan reached into his robes and pulled out a weapon. Before Skinner realized what his intentions were, the gun was already being fired. McMurray's scream echoed in the cavern as the bullet tore through his body, throwing him against the far wall. The man slid unconscious to the floor. "How on earth did he ever make Lieutenant Colonel?" Skinner's jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. Beside him, Mulder had tensed but hadn't moved so much as an inch away. "If that's your way of convincing us we should help you out, you're going to have to try harder." Morgan smiled, then put the gun back under his robes and raised both arms. "Now, gentlemen. There's no need for any further violence. That man simply had to be killed. He was a danger to us all." The guards busied themselves hauling McMurray out of view, then quickly returned to stand on either side of their leader while he poured three glasses of a dark red liquid from a jug on the room's central table. Behind him was the passage that led out to the valley. The stolen skin stood disapproving guard before it and the stars glittered in the night sky where the tunnel opened to the air. Morgan looked up and took note of Skinner's gaze. "Yes, the night sky is a thing to behold, isn't it?" He turned and looked at the view for a moment. "This valley has some of the best scenery. As long as they maintain their climate control here, I think I should like to keep this place as my home. We can move the rest of them back here, and make room for your group." White light from the moon streamed in, bathing them all in a soft glow. "I don't think anyone's looking for a change in living quarters, but thanks anyway." Skinner casually spared a glance behind them and found no other guards. "Where are your people, anyway?" "Oh, they seem to have taken a bit of a trip, thanks to him." Morgan's eyes sparkled with something close to pure hatred when he looked at Mulder. "But I've got some men helping them find their way back even as we speak." That answered his question about the other guards. For as devious as Morgan was, he really wasn't all that smart. "And now, I suppose, you expect Mulder to teach you how he communicates with them. Out of the goodness of his heart, I imagine?" "That would be nice." Morgan set his cup down. "However, I'm sure that's asking too much. And you, Skinner, with your background -- I don't expect you to give up anything you've learned just because I ask." Skinner tensed and felt Mulder take a step closer. Morgan pulled his gun from under the white robes, then looked at Mulder questioningly. "How about it? An exchange of information, or do I kill him?" It was soundless. So much so, Skinner had to take another look before he believed what he saw. In the instant it had taken him to blink and ready his muscles for a fast lunge, three large black figures had risen up from the rock in the tunnel behind Morgan and the guards. Each Wa-teri-kem now stood directly behind a man, still undetected in their stealth. Skinner felt as if he was dreaming. "It's your choice." Morgan raised the weapon. Mulder raised his right hand, palm up, and extended the statue. Skinner turned his head in time to see the metal begin to almost glow, then turned back to watch the movement of the room's unnoticed occupants. Morgan's eyes followed Skinner's movement, then he turned, and his eyes lit with surprise. And then time slowed to a crawl. Mulder spoke. "Bal Sobit." The Wa-teri-kem made a sound, an answer so quick he couldn't follow it. Morgan screamed and the gun was suddenly turned and pointed at him. "You may kill me, Mulder, but your friend will die too!" "No!!" There was a roar in his ears and the gun fired, and Mulder was suddenly flying through the air, and Skinner felt himself pushed aside, stumbling hard, then falling down as Mulder landed on top of him. "Bal Sobit! Bal Sobit!" Mulder's words elicited brilliant hues of blue and orange that ran in a quick striped pattern over the statue twice before fading away. Everything afterward happened so fast, only Skinner's battle-trained eye caught any of it. The instant Mulder's words covered the statue for the second time, the Wa-teri-kem made their move. Two of them grabbed the guards and lifted them up and out into tunnel before they could even cry out. Morgan turned when he realized what was happening, then tried to back away but tripped on his long robes and fell hard to the ground. Skinner felt an instinct to rush forward and stop what he knew was about to happen, but it was too late. "No!" Morgan's cry was followed by a shot from his gun, but the bullet only opened up a hole and a poisonous green mist rose up from the wound, choking Skinner and making his eyes water. "Stop this! I'm the ruler here! It was agreed! We had an agreement!" Morgan frantically tried to back away, but his robes made each movement of his legs a useless effort. Before he could cry out again, the Wa-teri-kem in front of him reached down with massive clawed hands and pulled him to his feet, then off the ground. With a mighty roar and one twist of a giant hand, the creature snapped Morgan's neck then tossed the limp body to the ground. Skinner looked up through tortured eyes and found the room now crowded with Wa-teri-kem. The sight was almost frightening, but he felt calm in an eerie way. Two of them had blooded claws, and they held back while several others launched themselves on top of Morgan's body. Their intentions were clear enough to turn Skinner's stomach. He looked away, then found himself staring at his agent. Mulder was only two feet away. Both hands clutched at his belly, but his gaze was fixed on the scene playing out before him. Skinner blinked, not sure if he was really seeing what he thought he was. He moved so he could look Mulder more easily in the eye without saying a word. His friend was calm, almost dispassionate, watching Morgan's death -- and now his dismemberment -- with complete detachment. There was no more reaction on his face than if he'd been watching the grass grow taller. It was all over so fast, Skinner felt a tinge of the fear he'd experienced under the habitat that long, horrific night. The Wa-teri-kem made quick work of it. "Mulder." The younger man's gaze appeared to be glazed over now, as if in shock, but he still seemed calmly detached. Skinner put a hand on his shoulder. He was aware of eyes watching them, and gentle purring sounds. And something almost alien in his friend's gaze. Slowly, Mulder turned and looked up. "Bal Sobit. He was the one." Skinner glanced at the red spot disappearing into the dirt floor. A sudden chill ran up his spine, tingling the hairs on the back of his neck. His chest was tight and it was harder and harder to draw breath. "This isn't exactly how I wanted things to go." His words were gasped out between coughs and choking gurgles. "He was going to kill you." Mulder's voice was soft and laced with pain. "Yeah." Skinner coughed again, choking on the fumes that still filled the air, then looked at the Wa-teri-kem who were watching them. "Yes, he was. You saved me again." He gently pried the younger man's hands from his belly then gasped softly at the sight. "Can we go home now?" One bloody hand rose to rest gently against the older man's straining chest. "I want to go home." Skinner looked back down, meeting Mulder's gaze. The detachment was gone. Looking up at him now was the same hopeful, trusting expression he'd come to know so well. Before he could answer, a large black body blocked the light. La-Kay crossed the room, glancing at the red stain. He had to squint through the room's light, and Skinner realized the moonlight that had been bathing them was moving out of view. The green mist still seeped from the small hole in the being's chest and each step closer made Skinner's distress grow. When it was a few steps away, La-Kay stopped and sat on its large haunches, then held out a silver statue and growled. The patterns moved slowly, in deference to his newly learned abilities, Skinner assumed, but some of the words were instantly familiar. "Food, time, and ... talk?" Skinner looked at Mulder, but the man was unconscious now, bleeding out before his eyes. Skinner snatched the statue from his friend's hand and lifted it. And then he realized, he didn't have the words! How could he tell their new friends that Mulder was dying? "Help us! Help him!" He dropped the statue and crawled to La-Kay, pulling the huge creature forward, coughing, choking, struggling to stay aware, to make this being understand. "He's dying!" The creature moved forward, then reached out a hand to gently touch Mulder's face. He turned the man on his side, staring at the wound in his abdomen. Skinner coughed again, gagging, and La-Kay turned to look at him as well, the same hand coming out to touch his chest. He turned and growled at the others and two more of the largest creatures moved forward. One lifted Skinner, cradling him gently in clawed hands that had just torn a man apart. The second one lifted McMurray, and Skinner wished he had the strength to tell them not to bother. La-Kay itself lifted Mulder, and the last thing Skinner remembered seeing was the huge black-scaled being, crooning gently to the slight, pale form of his friend. ******************************************* Skinner came to again when the creature put him down. He was amazed to be alive, amazed that the pain in his chest was subsiding. He immediately turned to look for Mulder, finding the younger man at his side, unmoving. His fingers sought out a pulse, finding it weak and thready. He rolled into a sit, and pulled the still body into his lap, trying to warm him with his own heat. There was moisture on his face, and he realized with a start that he was crying, tears falling as he made an unbearable keening sound, rocking the cold, still body of his agent, his partner, his friend, beneath the light of an uncaring moon. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his sounds were drowned out in the sounds of the assembled Wa-teri-kem. They were back at what Mulder had called the birthing place, and something momentous was happening. He slowed his movements as his attention was captured by the spectacle playing out before him. In an almost stately manner, La-Kay was moving forward toward the cage, then moving *through* the metal bars, and directly into the pit that steamed and burbled. As he watched, the heat from the vent grew in intensity, until he could feel his flesh scorching even at this distance and he hurried to cover Mulder's unprotected body. The heat grew and grew, until it seemed almost thermonuclear, a heat that surely could not be sustained, that surely he and Mulder could not survive this proximity to. And yet, in the center of that orange ball of fire, he could still make out the form of La-Kay. And as he watched, it seemed as if the creature's form melted, shifting and phasing in and out of focus, until at last the heat was so intense, the light so blinding he had to close his eyes and turn away. It seemed to increase for another minute, and then, in an instant it was over. Skinner turned back to the cage, staring at the center, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark again. When he could see, his jaw fell open in shock and wonderment. A skin lay tossed haphazardly to the side of the cage and standing in the center of the 'birthing place' was a small gray figure, the epitome of every alien experience on record. The small, slight body, the over-sized head, the large, lidless eyes. It stood staring at him for a moment, then made a sound. The cage rippled with patterns, and the remaining creatures bowed. He'd recognized that symbol. That was 'wa - teri.' 'Child.' What Mulder had called him the first night. It made another movement, delicate hands with long tapering fingers moving fluidly through the night air, and another soft sound, and the remaining creatures seemed to melt into the ground, disappearing before his eyes. He was drunk. That was it. It was the only explanation for what was happening. This was all some bizarre fantasy, some unbelievable dream brought on by too much booze, too much work, and too much Mulder. His logical, orderly, militarily precise mind refused to take in anything more, and was rapidly threatening to shut down. He turned again, looking down to see Mulder lying across his lap, barely breathing as his life blood continued to seep from his body. "No! This isn't happening!" "Shhh. Be at peace. All will be well." The small gray being was in front of him, standing quietly, watching. "Can you help him? Can you save him?" He didn't care if he was a fool. He didn't care if this was a dream, or a drunken fantasy. He didn't care about anything except seeing the man in his lap move, and breathe, and continue on. "Yes-s-s-s-." The 's' was a sibilant sound, drawn out and lingering. "Let me." Skinner felt strangely warm fingers against his arm, and with no volition, he was suddenly separated from the man who had become his closest friend. The small gray being leaned over, looking closely at Mulder and said, "He is the one." Then the hands came out, pressing over the wound in Mulder's belly, and another series of sounds was being made. And as Skinner watched in befuddled amazement, the jagged wound in Mulder's stomach slowly began to close. The muscles pulled back together, the blood vanished, and the skin knit before his eyes. The small creature sighed, and lifted its hands, stepping back. Where a life-threatening gunshot wound had been only moments ago, there was now smooth, unmarred skin. And a confused man who was beginning to stir. "Walter?" Mulder's eyes opening slowly, slipping over the gray being without seeing, then registering on his friend. "Shhhh, it's all right." "Wha' happened?" Skinner moved closer, reaching out to take Mulder's arm. "What do you remember?" "Morgan had a gun. He was going to -- to shoot you." "Yeah," Skinner reached out and ruffled the other man's hair fondly, "and you got in the way." "I was shot?" Mulder looked down at himself, puzzled. "Yeah, you were. Belly wound. Bad." "So how come I'm alive?" "Our friend over there ..." Skinner turned around to speak to the creature, finding only empty space. "Wha'?" Mulder's head was swiveling too now, as he looked to see what Skinner was talking about. "He -- it -- the being -- it was just here." "One of the Wa-teri?" "No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know." Skinner shook his head with frustration, still looking around. A movement caught his eye and he surged forward. "McMurray!" The man was getting to his knees when Skinner plowed into him, knocking him back down. "Where is it?" "How the hell should I know, Skinner?" The words lost any ferocity they might have carried, uttered in a shaking voice as they were. "You saw it?" "Yeah, I saw it. Now get the fuck off me!" McMurray made a feeble attempt to push Skinner away, and the big man rose in disgust and walked slowly back to Mulder. "This is too much." Skinner was muttering as he walked back to his friend, then helped the other man to his feet. "How do you feel?" "Like someone just rearranged my insides, but I'll live." "Can you walk?" "How did we get out here?" "I don't have a clue. I guess they -- the black ones -- they brought us." Mulder was on his feet now, one arm wrapped around Skinner, who was holding onto his friend with both hands. "Yeah, I can walk. Just not too fast, OK?" Skinner nodded. "We need to go back. Rest. Then get the hell out of Dodge. I need time to process everything that happened tonight." It was Mulder's turn to nod, and the two men began to move slowly down the plateau, McMurray hobbling along behind. They had reached the crevice, about halfway back to the caves, and were resting, when another of the Wa-teri-kem rose up from the ground before them. Mulder froze, the terror of the time alone, the long-instilled fears rising up to immobilize him for a moment. But the creature didn't attack. It held out a piece of the metal, and rumbled. "I caught 'food' again," Skinner said calmly. "It said the young ones have to feed. And they don't understand." The younger man nodded. "They -- the older ones -- will watch to make sure the young ones only eat the round ones. Then they'll come and see us." He looked up at Skinner. "I think it means they'll come to the station to see us after they've fed." The creature hummed again and held the silver out for them to watch. "Child? What was that other word?" "Born. Or maybe change. Maybe it's not the *birthing* place -- it's the *changing* place." Mulder shook his head slightly. "I can't believe I remember so many words again." "What does it mean?" "It said they watched us -- uh, you know, -- and so we were -- allowed -- to be present for the birth," Mulder creased his brow in concentration, "the change of La-Kay. From child to adult." Mulder held up his statue. "Disanno taru. Yeah, that's right. Disanno taru." He looked at Skinner. "I told it we were honored." The being smiled widely, showing a mouth full of dangerous teeth, then they watched in awe as the metal seemed to be absorbed into its body. It reached out and rested its massive hand on Mulder's head for a moment, then repeated the action with Skinner. When it was finished, it turned and purred, then disappeared into the ground in a soundless swoosh of black oil. Skinner sighed deeply, trying to let everything that had happened settle in his mind. It felt as if they'd just fought a battle that had constantly shifting borders. But they'd won. He reached down and picked up the statue from near his feet and pocketed it. "Let's get out of here, Mulder." He turned to speak to McMurray only to find the man had vanished. After one last glance back up at the cage -- the changing place -- on the plateau, Skinner draped an arm around Mulder's shoulders and led him back toward the caverns. They walked for several hours, finally reaching the main tunnel, and then making their way back to the cave they'd been using and started gathering up what they'd come with. Skinner exchanged the pants he was wearing for his own while Mulder dug out their parkas. There was still bread and water stacked with the other foodstuffs and offerings, so Skinner packed several loafs and a chunk of heavy cheese. He'd rather they took the time for a real meal, since they hadn't eaten very well for the last several days, but he could sense Mulder's desire to leave. "Can you find this tunnel again?" Skinner checked his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed. "I think if we follow the tracks, I'll recognize it when we get there." Mulder smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't really paying attention." Skinner laughed shortly. "No, I don't suppose you were. Let's get out of here." The path to their exit tunnel was easy to find after all. Dozens of people dashing to freedom had left a seriously worn path in the soft dirt, leading up and back into the mountain. "I was tracking your medal, but I didn't know how to get to where you were in this maze." Mulder waved a hand around them as they followed the trail. "I don't know how I ended up right where they wanted me; they couldn't have planned it." "No, I'm sure it was coincidence." Skinner glanced behind them. There were still people in the caverns, some refusing to leave, others still arguing the merits of leaving. Morgan's guards were nowhere to be seen, and probably no longer a threat once they figured out their leader was dead. "I knew you were looking for me when this thing started to vibrate." He touched the small metal pin on his collar then shook his head. They rounded a corner and Mulder pointed to the small opening. Skinner led the way into the chamber, stopping to examine the huge metal slab blocking the way once more. "How'd you say you opened this?" "Gowlorn. The word was just there, in my head. It opened right away and they all started pouring out." Skinner looked at the slab and watched as it began to dissolve into the rock. "Voice control. That's how Morgan and his men could open it from this side." He glanced at at Mulder again. "The word was just there?" The younger man nodded, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Right." Skinner pulled the flashlight from his pocket and turned it on, shining the bright white beam through the darkness. "I don't see anyone. They're probably halfway down that valley by now, heading back." He stepped over one a pile of discarded belongings and Mulder moved up to walk beside him. "Either that or they're bunched up at the other end waiting for rescue." "I thought they weren't afraid of the Wa-teri-kem when they weren't feeding?" "Yeah, but you noticed they stayed inside anyway, didn't you?" Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and they started the long trek through the tunnel. They walked for nearly an hour before the first bend, then slowed their pace enough to snack on the cheese they'd brought while walking. The dirt floor had been trampled by fleeing masses, and the rock walls held smudge marks and the occasional spot of blood where bodies had pushed and shoved through narrow sections. Bits and pieces of cloth, the occasional eating utensil, and more than one pack littered the ground as evidence of the exodus. At his request, Mulder tried to teach him a few more words as they came back to memory. His agent was surprised at some of the words he could recall, and angered by the ones he couldn't. "It's not all there!" Mulder slammed the wall in a fit of frustrated anger. "I feel like I'm being punished now, teased with partial thoughts!" "Hey, hang on." Skinner stopped and pulled Mulder to a standstill. They'd been walking through the darkness for three hours now, and had another three or four to go by his estimation. "You're lucky you've gotten this much back. It really is amazing, and unusual. I've known men who never got half as much as you have, even with therapy." Mulder sighed heavily and looked down, shaking his head. "I hate him for bringing it back to me this way. And damned if I don't hate that bastard for doing this to me! You know who I mean! I hate him for daring to be alive!" One arm swung out in a sweeping gesture, fist clenched with nothing to strike. "I hate all the lies and deceit and insanity that caused all of this!" "Do you hate me for finding them?" Mulder's gaze shot up, meeting Skinner's with a shocked expression. "No. No, I don't. I don't. How could I?" His eyes darted around as if desperately seeking an answer. "I just -- I -- " "You need a break." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder, then pushed him gently but firmly to the ground where they could sit and rest. "So do I. You'll get past this, Mulder. We'll get back to the station and let Peters and the others deal with these people. We'll teach them about the Wa-teri-kem and the language, show them how it's done, then we are no longer involved. We sit back and wait for the next transport out of here, and it's back to the real world for us." His answer was a quiet sigh and a nod of the younger man's head. "Game over, Mulder. Mystery solved. The bad guys are gone." Skinner watched his partner, waiting for an acknowledgment. Mulder leaned against the rock wall, then slowly looked up and nodded tiredly. "Except McMurray. He still needs to answer for his part in all this." "Except McMurray," Skinner agreed. "But he'll turn up. I don't think it will be safe to stay here any longer now that things have changed. He'll be forced to come back to the station." "It doesn't change anything." Mulder slipped off the pack and removed it, pulling out his statue. "There's still too much unanswered. And I still can't bring the two together. The Wa-teri-kem and the terror that came in the night. I never will." Skinner leaned back, pressing his back into the support of the stone wall, and sighed. Every now and again, he got another rare look inside this unique man's head from a different angle. Just when he thought he could imagine what Mulder's viewpoint must be, he'd get another look and have to wonder about his past notions. He hadn't yet found anything he didn't like, and doubted he ever would. Tonight's turn of events had happened too fast to be stopped, and he'd made a crucial mistake in thinking Morgan wouldn't force his hand so quickly. Killing him to force Mulder into helping was a given. If he'd been successful, there was no telling what the young man would have done alone there. But Skinner hadn't thought Morgan would play that card so early in the game. No, Mulder acted on instinct, and saved both their lives. In the end, justice was served. And the Wa-teri-kem had their own justice to mete out. It was obvious to him from speaking with La-Kay and Kayla that they harbored anger toward the 'animals' who had taken Mulder away from them. They'd probably domesticated the same animals unknowingly, since it seemed apparent they couldn't tell one human from another without some form of communication. "I'll just be happy to get back to that hot tub." Skinner sighed again, wistfully. "You know, all this talk of the Wa-teri-ken and communications makes me wonder about some of the other life on this planet. You don't suppose cows or chickens ever try to communicate, do you?" Mulder looked up, eyebrows creased. "Whaddaya mean?" He paused, considering the question. "I dunno, maybe." "There could be other intelligent life here. Maybe dolphins. Or some of the apes. Have you ever asked the Wa-teri-kem about other sentient life? If their language is based on patterns, who knows what else has been trying to communicate?" "You mean something I might have eaten?" Mulder shook his head sharply, then scrambled to his feet. "No, uh-huh. No. That would mean that we were no better than ... No." "Whoa, hang on." Skinner hurried to stand up and grab his friend by the arm before he could start hurrying down the tunnel. "I wasn't serious, Mulder. I was just contemplating possibilities." Mulder spun around, still shaking his head. He looked a little sick. "No! If something was trying to talk to me, and I was using it as food because I didn't understand, then ..." A sudden realization stopped him in his tracks. He closed both eyes tightly and leaned forward, pressing his head into Skinner's chest in a moment of pure emotional shock and resigned understanding. After a few breaths, he straightened and looked up. "You're good, you know that, Sir?" Skinner smiled down at the tired face looking at him. "That's nothing you didn't already understand, Mulder. You just hadn't accepted it yet." Mulder laughed shortly, then pushed some hair away from his forehead with a sweep of one hand. "You know what I like about you?" "What's that?" "You're everything I wanna be." "I didn't know you wanted to be bald and good looking." Skinner laughed at the changing expression on his friend's face, then draped an arm around Mulder's shoulders and started walking down the path again. "Well," Mulder reached up and tugged at the unruly hair that continued to fall over his eyes. "Maybe not bald, but I think it's about time to do something about this." ****************************************** It was the next 'day' by the time they reached the opening. Both men were back in their parkas, and the steamy heat and steady warmth of the caverns was just a distant memory. The ever-present moon cast a watery light, illuminating the steep climb down to the tiny plateau holding their Snowcat. To the left they could see marks in the snow and ice where the fleeing people had slid and stumbled their way down, missing the section the 'cat rested on to land farther down the slope. "It's a wonder they didn't break their necks going down that in the dark." Skinner eyed the path, then shook his head. "Wonder where they had the damn vehicles concealed. There's no way they would survive the trek back to the station with no more outerwear than I saw." "I'm just glad they're gone." Mulder cautiously squinted through the darkness, searching for signs of stragglers. "I don't want to deal with them again for a while." "Yeah." Skinner splayed the lantern light around, then nodded towards the 'cat. "Let's get down there and make sure no one got curious on their way out." The 'cat was barely visible where Skinner had maneuvered it. Mulder was sure had he not already known where it was, he never would have seen it himself. Exhaustion was once again taking its toll, so the climb down was slow and methodical. He wanted to leave right away, driving steadily as long as they could and get back to the station before any of the others found their way back. But Skinner insisted they were both too tired. "We'll put some distance between us and the mountain." Skinner climbed into the driver's seat after a quick inspection of the vehicle. "Then we'll rest, and I'll call in to Peters." He strapped in and began warming up the 'cat's engine while Mulder settled into the other chair. "We're in no hurry, Mulder. We can find a place to stop, rest up, get a good sleep, and head home tomorrow. We're still a day and a half away, following a straight course." Mulder agreed. Even though he had no real choice; it did make sense. His head was spinning with the events of these past few days, and the strange jumble of memories now swirling around. He barely noticed Skinner had the 'cat in motion and the mountains were already fading into the distance. He leaned against the side door of the 'cat and stared out at the snow passing in an unchanging blur beneath their treads. This was so reminiscent of another trip to the South Pole, another time in his life. A life that had been give back to him now. He'd raced here to find Scully, to save Scully, and he had. But then, they'd drifted apart. He'd almost stopped believing and she -- she, too, had changed. He reached up and tugged at the small cross at his neck. But she'd sent him this. He'd been missing almost two years and she still believed in him enough to send this to him. Half a world away and with no assurances that he would understand, she'd stepped out in faith and sent him her trust, her faith, and -- he gulped, hardly daring to think the words -- her love. When he got back to the world, it was time to have a talk with his partner. The snow continued to fly past and his mind drifted on to the Wa-teri-kem. What incredible creatures! What an amazing discovery! Oh, there were still questions to be answered. What were they doing here? Why were some of the adults walking about in the world, passing as human? He thought of Jeremiah Smith and the man who had been sent to track him down. If they'd really been here, in the ice, for thousands of years, what had changed that caused them to come out and mingle with the human inhabitants of this planet? And why did he still have the distinct feeling there were two factions within the Wa-teri-kem? Perhaps it had something to do with Morgan's dying declaration that he 'had an agreement' to rule at the Pole. An agreement with whom? Mulder shook his head, forcing himself to look up and out the windshield. All these questions could be posed to the beings, the next time he saw them. "Do you think things will be different this time?" He glanced at Skinner, then looked out over the landscape as it rolled by. "Will this group understand what the others didn't?" "I think so." A large dune-like snow hill appeared, and Skinner slowed the 'cat and began circling to the lee side. "You have to remember, Mulder, they've only been here a few months. And we did have more of a warning than the first group ever had. We had you." "They had me, too." Skinner slowed the vehicle behind the break, then turned to face Mulder while the engines powered down. "I don't like them any more than you do, Mulder. But I can understand them a little better, I think. People like that -- they're different than people like you or me. They're motivated by completely different things in life, and often times they find themselves in positions they were never equipped to handle." Mulder shrugged, then unclipped his belt. "I remember people like that. I've known enough of them in my life." He was sure Skinner was making sense, and no doubt a good point, but he wasn't in the mood to hear it just then. "You want to stay in here, or should I set up the habitat?" "Here." He lifted a thumb toward the back of the 'cat. "I'll join you in a few minutes." Skinner smiled a look of great patience, then pointed to the console. "I just need to call in, let Peters know what happened and what to look out for. He's got all those people out there on the ice, heading toward the station as fast as they can move." "Yeah." Mulder moved into the back of the vehicle and began to rearrange things, making a space for their small cook stove, and digging through the remaining supplies in search of something to throw together for a meal. He filled a pot with water and put it on to boil, then leaned back against the bulkhead, the ease of relaxation stealing over him until he could no longer fight the tiredness. Skinner was still up front, explaining the confusing details to the colonel. Mulder dragged himself out of his lassitude to dump dried meat and vegetables into the water, the makings of a hearty stew, then gathered up his parka to use as a pillow and practically collapsed on his belly on the cargo area floor. Laying there, he could hear his -- partner's? friend's? boss's? -- voice over the transmitter, and more mutely, Peters' often stunned replies. He didn't want to think anymore. At least not for a few more hours. He wanted to lie down and fall deeply asleep, and have no dreams. But instead of the instant unconsciousness he'd expected, Mulder found himself idly listening to his -- friend's, yes, it would have to be friend's -- voice, and occasionally a crackle of static reminding them of the tenuousness of communication out here. Every muscle in his body felt like lead, and twice as heavy. Even his eyes refused to open. But his mind followed all the details Skinner retold, seeing every bit of the tale the AD was recounting from the skittish and mentally unstable people of the caverns to the still unexplained presence of children in the party, to the evil insanity of Morgan and the cowardly avarice of McMurray's play for power. After a while, he became aware of the calm that had settled over him. It was as if he'd managed to travel back in time to mere days ago. Back to a time when he could remember nothing of his life with the others. When all he cared about was Skinner and their time together. A time when he knew one cycle from another, danger from safety, and where home was. It was as if by coming back out of that tunnel -- that mountain bowl -- everything that was held inside no longer mattered. But he did remember. More than he'd allowed himself to consider. In some respects, far more than he ever wanted to. Now all he wanted was a break from any and all thoughts. Even thoughts of Scully only caused more confusion, with none of the soothing emotions he used to associate with her. "Peters' has got a group going out to meet the others." Skinner set a soft pack he was carrying down and sat on the floor next to Mulder. "We'll head out tomorrow, probably catch up by late afternoon." Tiredly, Mulder turned his head so he was facing his friend. "You told him everything?" "Just about." Skinner reached out, took the spoon from Mulder's makeshift spoon rest, and stirred the meat and veggies. "I'm a little tired of stews and oatmeal. I'll be glad when we can vary our diet a bit." Mulder watched him dig through their supplies for spices, then liberally sprinkle in dried onions and pepper. "Explain something to me, Walter." It wasn't a conversation would ever have considered having with this man before, but it seemed to fit now, with their new intimacy, and he needed help in establishing a frame of reference for the events of the past two years. This was as good a place as any to start. "Do you know why people are like this?" Skinner sighed and glanced up as if he was thinking something over. "People are people, Mulder. They're the same no matter where you go or what you're doing." He looked down for a moment, then stirred the pot once more. "It's just the circumstances that change, and how we react to them, that make us different." "So you think if the circumstances were different, Morgan wouldn't have developed his god complex?" Mulder shifted his parka pillow and rested his chin on the mound of soft cloth. "You're the psychologist. What do you think?" But he didn't really want to think at all, he just wanted to listen, so he shrugged in answer. "Well, then, I don't know. He probably had those tendencies to begin with, but the circumstances made it possible to act on them." Skinner sighed and checked the pot, then leaned back so he could rest against the bulkhead and glance at Mulder were he lay. "I remember a battle once that pretty much changed my entire outlook on war, and life." "What happened?" Speaking while resting the weight of his head on his chin wasn't easy. Skinner look at him for a moment without speaking. "You really want to hear about it?" Mulder abandoned his position and sat up, shifting the parka from beneath him to his lap as he turned around to sit facing his friend. "Yes, I do." He had to rub sleep from his eyes and blink widely before the AD seemed to believe his sincerity. When he'd finished readjusting his posture, Skinner smiled and shrugged slightly, then looked out the front of the 'cat, staring at the unchanging vista of snow and ice and moonlit shadows. "I was fourteen months into the war." He fumbled with the spoon for a moment then seemed to realize he couldn't stir the stew forever, and shook his head. "I still can't believe that war lasted as long as it did. We were trying to take a small area of land, with a strategic hill near one of the main supply routes. It wasn't much, not really, but there was a fighting contingent there assigned by the North, and damned if they couldn't fight." Skinner sighed and creased both eyebrows. "We all should have had more sense, really." "Why?" Mulder found himself leaning forward slightly, hugging the balled up parka in his lap like a forgotten piece of work. The emotions playing across Skinner's face were bringing the tale alive for him in a strange way. "We went in hot. Angry. Their force had already taken out the platoon that came in before us, so we had a grudge. There was a prehistoric little village with thatched roof huts, and a rice paddy half surrounding it, and then, sorta in front of the whole thing, this little hill that looked down on the road. And Charlie had managed to take out a whole platoon of America's new generation. So we mounted an all-out offensive. That was what we kept trying to do, overwhelming the enemy with sheer numbers." Skinner shook his head ruefully. "But there were always more of them than there were of us. Twenty percent of our men were lost in that one attack. Two from my squad. The village had mortars -- no one expected that. After we fell back and regrouped, we tried a few more maneuvers, lost more men, then tried again." He glanced at Mulder. "By the end of three days, we were down eighty percent, HQ wouldn't listen, the orders to take the village and the hill were unchanged, and the enemy was still going strong." Mulder swallowed, trying to picture in his head a battle of these proportions with a young Sgt. Walter Skinner in the thick of it. "What did you do?" "We won, eventually. It was sheer luck, there's no doubting that. First one of our squads got in behind the hill, then a few more managed to flank the village and someone got lucky and took out their mortar. Then I think they panicked a little, seeing us get the upper hand for a change. After a few hours it was over. We killed every last soldier, and then had to tackle the village itself." He shifted the pot on the burner, shaking the contents in lieu of stirring. "By this time we were pretty pissed, and ready to take on anything. We'd lost far too many men for this one small hill, and once we captured it we realized the Viet Cong had made another fatal mistake by keeping all of their soldiers on the hill. And I was angry. I'd lost a lot of good men in what should have been a simple sweep and conquer." Skinner shook his head again and looked off in the distance, his eyes unfocused. "When I hit the village, I was ready to kill anything that moved. We all were. But what we found were a bunch of old people, and women, and children, huddled in their huts with rakes and scythes, scared out of their wits." He looked at Mulder. "They were just farmers, pressed into the war by their government's politics. Hell, maybe it was really *our* government's politics. "One minute they're out in the rice fields, working to keep body and soul together, the next minute someone has taken their men, and even their older boys, and given them orders to keep the hill at all costs. They were totally overwhelmed." "Why did they fight to begin with? Why not refuse?" "They thought refusing would mean immediate death for the men of their families. And it probably would have, too. By the time I was over there, I think the whole purpose of the conflict had gotten lost in the need for one side to best the other, no matter what the cost. These people found themselves in a situation they were never trained to cope with, never wanted to cope with, and having to cope with battle-trained opponents. But when it came right down to it, they were just people. Just women and children, and elderly farmers who really didn't give a damn about anyone's politics." The frustration and regret were so plain on his friend's face, Mulder felt moved to lower his voice. "What did you do?" "The only thing we could do." Skinner turned and looked out the front again, then made an uncompleted reach for the pot. "We occupied the hill, confiscated their weapons and," he sighed heavily before continuing, "burned the village." Mulder looked down at his parka and plucked at the faux fur that surrounded the hood. This was what he wanted to hear. More about Skinner's life, about the places he'd been and the things he'd done. His life was fascinating, so *real.* Much more so than the surreal circumstances of his own life. And the effect things had on Skinner were so profound. Mulder wanted to know all about it. He looked up again and Skinner was lowering the heat on the stove, stirring the stew. "That day changed you, didn't it?" The stew was forgotten for a few minutes. Skinner faced Mulder and met his gaze for a long moment before answering. "It changed the way I look at things, the way I think about people. And the way I see myself." He turned back to the pot. Suddenly Mulder stopped tugging at the parka and gazed solemnly over at his friend. "Are all your stories going to be some kind of metaphor for the way I'm dealing with things?" Skinner's face broke out into a wide grin, then he laughed. "If you're lucky, yeah." He reached out and smacked Mulder on the shoulder, then placed that hand on his chest in a dramatic gesture. "I'm older and wiser, remember? It's my duty to pass on that wisdom." Mulder laughed shortly and shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Skinner stared at him for a moment, then gasped theatrically. "Oh. My. God. Fox Mulder agrees to learn from someone. Quick, give me a pen and let me make a note of this day!" Mulder stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You are so lucky the stove is hot and I'm hungry. Otherwise, I'd make you eat those words for dinner." He lunged playfully forward, laughing again when Skinner pulled back in mock fear. When Mulder settled in place again, he reached for bowls and dished up their dinner. "This smells good." "It is good." Mulder handed over a bowl loaded with surprisingly savory meat and vegetables, then leaned back with his own bowl resting in his lap. After Skinner's first taste, and his exclamation of how the stew tasted, he happily dug into his own helping. They ate in silence until each man had managed to satisfy the worst of his hunger, washing the meal down with water melted from the snow, then chilled again in the freezing outside. Mulder sighed with extreme satisfaction and gazed up at the mountains. He appreciated Skinner's willingness to go along with his unspoken desire not to discuss the events of the past week. Eventually, he knew, they'd have to not only talk about it, but deal with all the ramifications and consequences. But right now, he just wanted to enjoy the peace and company. "How come communications are so unstable? The mountains, you think?" Skinner swallowed his water and glanced over his shoulder at the impressive heights. "Well, I'm no expert on satellite links and radio transmission, but I suspect that may have something to do with it. Particularly these mountains." He looked back at Mulder and set his water bottle down on the floor beside his leg. "These mountains don't show up on any of the aerials I was able to access, nor on anything Peters had either. We could have done better surveillance while we were still airborne, but Peters was too anxious to get down. And, I have to admit, once I saw you, I was too. I never imagined we'd have trouble interfacing with the satellites." Mulder looked up at the star strewn sky. "Think they're still up there?" "Yep. They'll orbit for years, unless something slams into them." "I don't mean the satellites." There was a long silence and Mulder found himself wondering if Skinner would be able to give voice to the experience they had shared. At length, he shrugged and turned his gaze back from the sky to meet Mulder's eyes. "Who knows what's up there? I guess we'll have a chance to ask some questions when our friends come to call." Mulder scraped the last of the stew from his bowl, then sucked on the spoon absently, feeling his tongue contour itself to the bowl of the utensil. He was enjoying this quiet time more than he ever imagined he could. Just him and Skinner. No other people, no questions, no mysteries. Just the two of them, enjoying the peace and quiet and each other's company. If only there were some way to include Scully, this would be perfect. He wanted this to last forever, but he knew there were obstacles that had to be overcome before that could happen. They'd have to go back, deal with the new-found survivors. He and Skinner would have to explain, then teach, the language of the Wa-teri-kem in order for the rest of the people to continue to survive here with their new co-habitants. There was a time, not long ago, when Mulder wanted nothing more than to stay near the station, living in the basement with Skinner. He had no desire to explore the ice, only a strong wish to leave. But that hadn't been possible. And now ... now he was haunted by memories of small red-headed women, and the word 'partner' no longer seemed the fit this man who had become so important to him. One hand reached up to unconsciously fondle the delicate gold cross and chain that still encircled his neck. With its tiny tracking transmitter attached to the back, it was a vivid reminder of the two people who were most important to him. He sighed and shook himself. He was beginning to feel restless. And impatient! He picked up the bowl and passed it to Skinner, watching as the older man did a fast clean up on the dishes. "I'll pack up the food if you want to get the bags out for tonight." Skinner lifted the pot and poured the rest of their stew into a container, setting it outside to freeze. At least food preservation wasn't a problem up here. "OK." Mulder passed the stove forward to Skinner, knowing it would be packed into the floorboard of the front to add to their heat as it cooled naturally. Setting up the sleeping blankets in the cargo space was a simple task and one he usually enjoyed. The 'cat's cramped quarters served as a very comforting sleeping arrangement against the cold, dark night. Mulder knew, logically, he no longer needed to fear the coming of monsters in the dark of night. But he also knew the fear wasn't going to stop just because his mind told it to. His gut still told him he wasn't safely locked in the security of the station, and therefore was in great danger. Only the physical closeness of the man who'd saved him from that terror once before could afford him any sleep. And with his newly returned memories, he wasn't too sure how he would reconcile that need for Skinner's closeness with his knowledge of who the man was. He could hear the AD on the radio up front, making one last check in with Peters. Skinner came into the back right after Mulder finished worming his way under his own sleeping bag. "Man, I'm exhausted. I think it's all catching up." He stripped quickly, then settled down in the warmth of several layers of coverings and yawned. "Are you going to be OK tomorrow, Mulder?" Mulder sighed heavily, then nodded. "Just remember, you don't owe those people anything. What happens to them now is up to Peters to work out." "Do you think -- when things settle down -- I was wondering if ... could we get off by ourselves again?" Mulder was on his side, facing away from Skinner, afraid his request would be misinterpreted. He had an uncommon desire now to have some time with the AD, to work through their relationship, to figure out where Scully fit into things. And mostly, he just needed to be away from all the people that would be waiting for them at the station. Skinner smiled, peering over his shoulder to meet his eyes. "Sure we can. I'm not all that keen on spending the rest of our time down here surrounded by all those idiots. And getting away is probably the only way we'll really be able to relax, not have to keep our guard up." Mulder's allowed himself a hopeful grin, then he nodded. "Good night, Sir." Skinner sighed quietly. Things were changing. "Good night, Mulder." He reached out and touched the other man's back gently. "I'm here if you need me." *********************************************** Morning came far too quickly. Mulder woke, surprised and slightly embarrassed to find that somehow in the night, he had rolled toward Skinner and slept quite close to the man, entangled with him really. There was an awkward pause as he pulled away and he could feel the flush on his cheeks as the older man chuckled and got to his feet. He climbed out of the sleeping bag reluctantly after Skinner made his way through the door. The blankets were bunched down around his legs, but he was warm and comfortable and loath to disturb the quiet. The moon was high in the sky and the ice glistened where wind was blowing loose snow about in tiny whirlwinds. It was a beautiful sight from inside the warm 'cat, but he knew it would be cold, cold, cold to be out in. He was right. The abrupt shock of the icy wind chased the last of his sleep away fiercely. Skinner had slipped out quickly, tended to his morning business, and was now circling the 'cat, performing a modified pre-run check. With teeth gritted against the cold, Mulder forced himself to take care of his own personal needs, suppressing a miserable moan as icy fingers of cold gripped his most private areas. He finished quickly, then hurried back to the 'cat, joining the AD in his vehicle check. "I may be falling victim to your eccentricities, Sir. I'm starting to miss the hot tub myself." Mulder bent and inspected the treads on the Snowcat. "I was afraid my secrets would be fair game once your memory came back." Skinner smiled as he spoke, then kicked gently at the snow in front of the vehicle. Mulder rose swiftly, moving to stand in front of the older man. "Whatever you want held in confidence, Sir, I will hold." His eyes were dark and earnest inside the parka's hood, and he reached out tentatively to place one hand on Skinner's arm. "I won't betray you." Skinner smiled again, then patted the other man's hand. "No, Mulder. I never thought you would." He squeezed the hand on his arm, then turned and moved a little bit away. "I went to boot camp at Paris Island, you know. Down off the coast of South Carolina. It really was an island, and you'd be surprised how cold it can get that far south." He shivered in the wind, then smacked the front of vehicle gently, brushed snow from the windshield, and turned back to face Mulder. "I had an instructor once, when I was a new recruit, who felt starting the day with PT in the cold was good for your heart." Skinner walked back to the 'cat and retrieved the stove, then began to dig through their supplies. "He was right, I suppose. But starting the day with a hot shower -- or in a hot tub -- isn't exactly a bad thing." "Is military training as bad as people say?" Mulder dug the frozen stew out, then handed the container to Skinner and joined him in the 'cat. "Bad? No, it wasn't bad. Hard, yes. Challenging, certainly. It's all about finding your limits, then pushing yourself past them. Learning how far you can go on your own, and when to ask for help. It's not for everyone, but no, I wouldn't call it bad." Mulder chewed his lip, nodding. After Samantha had disappeared, he used to spend nights imagining himself as a soldier, or a space explorer, or a cop -- like his fictional heroes in books and on TV. It always seemed like Captain Kirk and Steve McGarrett were in complete control of themselves and their surroundings. Even Agent Lewis Erskine always seemed to get his man. He'd always known it wasn't that way in reality. That it was a job like any other, full of hazards and more failure than success. But stories of wartime heroics, and law enforcement victories, and even first contact on Star Trek had been the world he lived in for much of his adolescence. He'd always liked Spock -- there was something extremely alluring to a boy filled with pain about a being who had no emotion. They ate the leftover stew quickly and in silence, each man lost in his own memories until at last Skinner stretched and rose. "Well, no sense delaying this any longer." The AD wiped his hands on a towel then gathered up the bowls. "The sooner we head out, the sooner we'll get back." "Right." Reluctantly, Mulder packed up their gear and helped stow everything away. Within ten minutes he was harnessed into his seat, watching the snow roll by beneath them. He tried to enjoy the trip. The sky was clear and stars twinkled above them, a grand canopy of glittering diamonds. The moon painted pictures on the ice and highlighted the whole landscape in silver and shades of gray. Behind them, the mountains still soared upward, great craggy monuments to something not entirely of this world, and the heat from the caverns and valley caused the upper peaks to remain shrouded in an eerie cloud of fog. It was a scene out of a child's Halloween tale and he said as much to his companion. Skinner nodded, repeating, "A child's Halloween tale. Why a child's, Mulder?" The younger man turned and looked out the side window, thinking. "A child. Children. I dunno." "You know, we're gonna have to figure out where those children all came from." Skinner watched a crevice in the ice beside his side window, maintaining a parallel course. "I'm not sure they're children." "What else could they be?" "I don't think I gave it much thought. I mean, they obviously *are* children, I'm just not sure they're *our* children." Mulder shrugged. "You think the Wa-teri-kem made them?" Mulder considered the question. There was nothing in his memory, new or old, that held an answer. "Maybe. I guess I never thought to ask. I think they may be like Emily." He cut his eyes to Skinner, assessing the man's response. When the AD nodded that he understood, he went on. "I think they may be hybrids, experiments." He reached up and pushed long hair from his eyes, then scratched at his hairline. "I just don't know for sure. I should have asked." "Well, I think you had enough on your mind back then." Before he could comment further, Mulder spotted a large area just ahead, filled with vehicles and people. "There they are." Skinner began to slow, bringing the vehicle to a stop next to three other 'cats and two of the large trackers. "There's Peters." Mulder swallowed hard, staring at the mass of people all looking in their direction. His day of quiet solitude had ended with a startling suddenness. He no longer had the excuse of memory loss to explain away the intense dread of mixing with these people that coiled in wait in his belly. Only two men were actually approaching their vehicle, Peters and Hector Sanchez, the meteorologist. Skinner unhooked his harness, so reluctantly he followed suit, staying close to his friend as they exited the 'cat. Old, or, rather, new but entrenched, habits were hard to break. "Skinner, Mulder." Peters approached, nodding to each man. "You two have been busy." "Peters. Any word on communications? Getting out of here?" The colonel shook his head. "'Fraid not. Everything's still just static." Skinner glanced over the colonel's shoulder at the mass of people milling about. "I see you found them." Mulder looked briefly at the group, avoiding anyone's direct glance. He'd positioned himself as close to Skinner's side as he could, and slightly behind, enjoying the relative security of that physical barrier between himself and the rest of the world. For some reason, he just wasn't ready to return completely to reality yet. From somewhere in the middle of a huddle of bodies, one old man pushed his way clear and hurried toward them. "He let you leave?" The doctor stopped beside Peters, looking anxiously from Skinner to Mulder and back again. "MORGAN let you leave?" "Morgan is dead," Skinner replied plainly. He turned to Peters. "There's still a few more back in the caves, some afraid to leave, some just reluctant." "Who is dead?" Peters looked confused, then consulted a folder in his hand. "Morgan?" Skinner nodded. "Jeffrey Morgan. He was their leader. Norton and Sorkowski are dead, too. McMurray was involved but I'm not sure of exactly what took place, though I could make a good guess. Oh, and by the way, McMurray is missing again." Peters shook his head gravely. "Not this time. He was on his way back to the station when we intercepted him. We've isolated him in that unused storage building, the one out west from the station. He won't be going anywhere from there." Houston ignored the discussion, focused on the death of his former leader. "You killed him?" The doctor looked at Skinner incredulously. "I said Morgan was dead. No one killed him." Mulder could see Skinner's jaw clench momentarily and felt his entire body tense up slightly as he answered the doctor. "You did it, then? You remembered how?" The doctor's gaze fixed on Mulder. "You've saved us all!" "Peters, we've got a hell of a lot to talk about." Skinner ignored the older man's persistence and moved slightly, just blocking the doctor's clear view of Mulder. "Right." Peters turned to the man he was with, then nodded at first group's physician. "Hector, if you could take Dr. Houston here back to the others and finish the interview, please?" Without waiting for a reply, Peters pointed over Skinner's shoulder. "I think we can get some privacy back there." Skinner followed the colonel and Mulder stayed beside him, grateful to be moving away from the staring eyes. They walked behind the vehicles, then climbed into the rear of one of the trackers, out of the wind and into a bit of heat. Peters sat facing the pair of them, pushed back the hood of his parka, and ran a hand over his graying hair. "It's been hell trying to make sense out of what they're saying, even with your explanations." He sighed and looked at Mulder briefly before fixing his gaze on Skinner. "What can you tell me?" Skinner leaned forward, resting his elbows on both knees. "Well, for starters, the creatures are called Wa-teri-kem. And it's quite possible they're smarter than we are." "My God," Peters breathed. "So it's true, then?" He turned to face Mulder. "You do remember? You're able to communicate with them?" Mulder nodded, then glanced up at Skinner. "We both can. You have to have some of that metal -- it's partially organic, I think. Part of them." "It's amazing, Peters. Mulder showed me how, then they taught me some words. They're perfectly willing to communicate with us, but it's tricky." "How so? If we've established a rapport, surely we can work out some sort of peaceful arrangement? And then there will be contact with the rest of the world, when the sun comes up and we can reach civilization." There was a dreamy, faraway look on the colonel's face. "Imagine, an alien race, here. And we -- we! -- can talk to them!" "Now hold on a minute. We can communicate at a rudimentary level, and I'm sure we can reach some kind of peaceful accord, but it's not as easy as it sounds." Skinner sighed and sat back. "You see, they don't associate intelligence with a species. It's purely individual with them. Literally, if you and I were sitting here, and I spoke to them but you didn't, they would consider me an interesting alien life and you dinner." Peters blinked several times. "If we can communicate with them, can't we explain that it's wrong?" "It's not wrong." Mulder shook his head, looking straight at the colonel. "It's not right or wrong, it's just their way. You have to respect that." "He's right, Peters," Skinner interjected, stopping the older man's reply before he could voice it. "This goes back to basics. They may be the visitors here, but to them, *we're* the aliens. The Wa-teri-kem have their own rules, their own values, their own ways. It would be highly presumptuous of us to call them *wrong* because they are different from us." Peters held up a hand and nodded. "Yes, of course. You're right, both of you. It's just that we've never had this happen before. You're talking ideals, here. Great in theory. I guess we'll have to put them into practice." "Believe me, Peters, it's the only way." Skinner shot a glance over his shoulder. "Morgan and the others chose not to, and the Wa-teri-kem used them as little more that trained animals. Shepherds for their own herd animals. Most of them spent a lot of time under the influence of that sedative, so much time I think they're all a little touched by it now." "Yes, it was hard to get any of them to make much sense. They kept insisting Mulder was their leader, though." Mulder nearly jumped off the ledge he was perched on. Startled, he looked at Skinner. "What?" "They told us you were in charge, Mulder. And any questions we had could be answered by you." That must have been Houston's doing. Mulder stared hard into Skinner's eyes, willing him to suggest they leave, take off now, head back to the caves, head for the ocean, seek out one of the other stations down here. Anything but stay here and deal with these people. Skinner smiled slightly, then put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and turned to the colonel. "I'm sure you can understand his feelings toward these people, Peters." "I can imagine, yes. They willingly abandoned you, let you live in complete isolation while they formed a new community safely protected from discovery. But now they seem repentant. They've at least taken the first step toward returning to humanity." "I don't care." Mulder looked at the colonel. "I don't care about them or what happens to them. I'm not their leader. In case you've forgotten, I was brought here against my will, and harbor a bit of anger toward them all." The words were clipped and quick, and they came through clenched teeth. "They are *not* my people." Peters inhaled slowly and deeply, sitting straighter on his tiny ledge. After a moment, he nodded. "I can't say I'd feel any differently, were I in your position." "Where are we going to put these people, Peters? That complex is pretty damned full." "Good question. The batteries are gonna drain faster with this many more folks drawing on them, which means we'll have to run the generators. That's my worry." "No, they gave us some time to get everyone settled." Peters looked up, eyebrows creased. Skinner explained the situation, and how the Wa-teri-kem had promised to control their young ones for a while, but then all bets were off and they returned to their normal feeding habits. "Well, we'd best get to work then. I'm having them all brought back to the station. We have materials for building more shelters. And if what you say is true, and we can all learn this new language, we might be able to arrange different living conditions in time." Skinner stood, head bent in the cramped interior of the tracker, and Mulder immediately followed his lead. "We can't take passengers in that small 'cat, and I've had my fill of their company for a bit." "That's understandable." Peters got up and pulled his head back up. "You'll be heading back then?" "I figure, in the other Snowcats and in the trackers, it'll still take you some time to get them all back. That should be enough time for us to bring Katherine and some of the others up to speed with the language." "It's a start." "Oh, and keep them together if you can." Skinner turned and started walking back to their 'cat. "Regardless of what the Wa-teri-kem said, I think it's best not to chance someone inadvertently pissing one of them off." "Good point." Peters stopped at the door to their 'cat, then sighed heavily and gazed out at the milling crowds. "I got into this for the challenge. I guess I haven't been disappointed yet." Mulder glanced at Skinner and saw him shake his head. There was a faraway look in his eyes for an instant, then he said his goodbyes and ushered Mulder into the vehicle. They started up quickly and set a straight, quick course for the station. "I guess you should be careful what you wish for." Mulder watched the ground rush by in a blurred motion as they sped back to the station. "Always." Skinner made a quick course adjustment, then turned to Mulder and smiled. "Well, most of the time." They rolled on until the cluster of people and vehicles was long out of sight, then Skinner slowed the vehicle, stopping near an uneven patch of ice. "Here, you want to take it for a bit?" "Yeah." Mulder waited until the other man moved out of the seat, then slid over and took the controls. He shifted into forward, and felt the pull of engines and crunch of the tread over the ice as they began to move again. Driving on the ice like this was an odd mixture of freedom and responsibility, with an amazing amount of power being controlled by the slightest movement of his hand. It was a thrill for a few hours, but not a feeling Mulder enjoyed for long. It reminded him too much of another long and arduous trip over Antarctic ice in a similar Snowcat with Scully's survival depending on him. For now, it was easier, and safer, to leave the driving in Skinner's hands. Still, he understood the need for Skinner to have a break, so he drove for several hours. It was just after the tenth hour when they reached the complex. Mulder stopped and they switched positions once more, then Skinner brought the 'cat to a halt inside the vehicle bay. Tom was the only one to meet them as they both climbed wearily from the vehicle. "Welcome back, you two." The head mechanic smiled widely, then motioned with his chin toward the expanse of the station behind him. "I suggest you go around back, if you want any peace tonight. I'm under orders from both Katherine and Aaron to let them know the minute you return." Tom winked conspiratorially. "The way I see it, you got in real late and I couldn't see waking anyone." "Thanks, Tom. We owe you one." Skinner slapped the man on the back, then turned to Mulder. "Come on, Mulder." "Right behind you." Mulder nodded his thanks to the mechanic, then set off at a fast pace behind his friend. They slipped out and around the building, paused as they reached the far corner until Skinner was sure the coast was clear, then sprinted the distance to the basement's concealed entry. Getting in was an easy matter of sliding a few boxes to the side. Once inside, both men leaned against the closed door, panting. The relief of being back was almost overwhelming. "Dibs on the shower!" Skinner pushed away from the door and lunged toward their quarters so fast, Mulder had no hope of catching him. And no energy if he'd tried. Instead, he stayed where he was, laughing so hard he had to double over to catch his breath. He recovered in time to get comfortably settled on the couch, listening while Skinner enjoyed the shower. Home! Mulder had thought he might never see this place again. But here he was, home and safe. And, thanks to his friend, he'd handled the biggest hurdle he'd ever faced and come out the other side relatively intact. Nothing mattered right now except the fact that he was home. Tomorrow, he knew, they'd have to explain things to Katherine and probably Aaron. Bring them up to speed and teach them how to speak with the Wa-teri-kem. And he needed to spend some time dealing with Scully and the FBI and all the memories of that life and his home in the real world. But not right now. "Your turn, Mulder." Skinner stepped out of the bathroom with a towel secured around his waist. "I'm going to make some dinner. We should still have some stores." "Hmm." Mulder nodded, his head rubbing against the back of the couch where it had been resting. Slowly, he dragged himself up and into the bathroom. There was still steam hanging heavily in the room, but aside from that there was no visible evidence of Skinner having just been in there. The man was unnaturally neat. Mulder pulled his clothes off and stepped into the shower, still shaking his head. It was easy to imagine Skinner as a recruit. He was probably the neatest one there, unintentionally driving the other recruits to better their own habits in comparison. He was probably a fast learner, too, and ruined the grading curve for the others. Mulder had always been outside the curve himself, so he could relate to the ill will such practices engendered in others. After a good long soak and two latherings, Mulder ended his shower with reluctance and wrapped a towel around his wet hair and another around his waist, then kicked up his clothes with one foot, caught them mid-air, and tossed them into his room. Smells of bacon and eggs, and toasting bread wafted out from the galley, so he hurried to dry off, pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then tossed his damp towels onto the desk just outside his room and walked to the table. "Smells good." Mulder sat down and sniffed the air appreciatively. "I thought I was too tired to eat, but I was wrong." "I know what you mean." Skinner put down a plate of toast, sat down and piled eggs on his plate, then added bacon. "We're making up for lost time on both fronts, Mulder. I don't mind sleeping in the 'cat, it's kinda nice, actually. But that stone bed was hell." Mulder nodded, then slurped at a piece of egg that was trying to slide down his chin. He scooped more eggs onto a piece of toast. "I'm glad they left me." He was shoveling eggs on toast again, then noticed Skinner watching him. "Where would I be if I'd gone with them?" "Oh, I agree, Mulder." Skinner nodded, then loaded his fork with eggs and lifted it. "I agree completely." They finished the meal in a comfortable silence. Mulder thought he was going to want another plate of the cheesy eggs, but the first one was already making him warm and drowsy. He helped clean up and lock down the basement, then headed for bed. There was an awkward moment as both men struggled with their new boundaries, and then Skinner reached out and gently pushed Mulder toward the second bedroom. The bedroom that had mostly gone unused since he had started sleeping in Skinner's bed. He padded through the room, hit the lights, and practically dropped into bed. The sheets were cold at first, but warmed quickly in response to his body heat. Mulder sighed and rolled over, putting his back to the door. Sleeping arrangements. Nightmares. Memories. Scully. He'd deal with all of those more in the morning, when he'd had a chance to collect his thoughts. He was still unsure how much of his memory was really back, and had no way of knowing what might still be missing or how he could find out. But it was exhaustion, and insecurity, not animosity, that kept him in his bed, when he found himself missing the presence of another warm body. From the next room, he could hear Skinner moving around, then getting comfortable on his own bed. The door separating their rooms had been broken the night when his friend had rushed in to end one of his nightmares; now it wouldn't secure shut. Mulder had never asked that it be repaired, and Skinner didn't seem to mind, so they left it as it was. Even in the privacy of his own bed, he liked knowing he wasn't alone anymore. ********************** Iced 14/15 The next morning came late. Mulder heard noises in the bathroom, then forced one eye open and was nearly blinded by the light streaming in through the open doorway between the bedrooms. "Oh, man." He still felt like he was behind in his sleep, and would have stayed right where he was if the little voice inside his head would just shut up. But it refused. He swung both legs off the bed, then sat there rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Skinner was still in the shower, so he padded into the bathroom and did as much as he could, then walked back to his room and waited for his turn to bathe. "Listen to me." Mulder didn't even jump. He gazed at the wall with empty eyes and willed the voice in his head to be quiet. "No. You're not real." "We need to talk." "You lied to me." Mulder heard the shower shut off and cast a guilty glance in that direction. "You lied to yourself! It was protection, self-preservation. Surely you can see that now?" Skinner was standing at Mulder's door now, listening quietly, with a curious expression on his face. Mulder turned away, embarrassed, but the words still tumbled out. "Why? Why didn't I remember? Why did I choose to split myself like this?" "Is it a problem? Do you think you can get yourself reintegrated?" Mulder shrugged. "I didn't have problems when we were out there. Here -- well, here it's different." "Can you access that part of yourself now?" This time he nodded, long hair falling forward to obscure the side of his face, saving him from having to make eye contact with Skinner. The big man was still leaning lazily against the door jamb. "Where did the children come from, Mulder? And why did everyone accept them so readily?" "They just showed up, Walter. Some were here when I arrived, then others appeared. We would find them out on the snow. Sometimes," he gulped and his adam's apple bobbed visibly, "we didn't find them in time." "And no one questioned where they came from?" "Of course we questioned!" Mulder jumped to his feet and began to pace. "Houston did tests on them, and so did Alveta Jackson, the first exobiologist. Their blood was -- weird -- but, shit, so is mine!" His pacing was rapidly approaching manic, and Skinner stepped forward, one arm reaching out to gently stop him. "It was obvious that they had been experimented on, but I realized pretty quickly this wasn't just a research station. And I knew if my cigarette smoking friend was involved, some strange stuff was bound to be expected." "So what happened?" Skinner's hand still rested on the younger man's arm, and he led him gently out to the couch, pushing him to sit, then turned and moved to the galley to start water for coffee. There was a long pause, and finally Skinner turned to look at his friend. Mulder sat stiffly on the couch, face scrunched in concentration, and two fingers pressed against his temple. The AD checked the water, then moved across the room. "Mulder?" "Hmmmm?" "Your head hurt?" Mulder looked up, startled. "Oh, uh, yeah. A little. It always does when I talk to myself." He waved one hand loosely. "It'll be OK. This is just hard." Skinner reached out and laid one hand on Mulder's forehead, then tugged the still long hair, and smiled. "We don't have to do this now." "No, no. That's OK. It's like it's right *there,* just outside my reach. I can almost see it, almost grab it. Like the answers are there but I just can't *quite* reach them." He shook his head, dislodging Skinner's hand in the process. "So the children were like Emily?" "No green blood. No poisonous gas. Just branched DNA, and some other things no one could put a name too. And striated muscles." He looked up. "You remember the Eddie Van Blundht case? Guy could change his appearance by muscle action. These kids were sorta like that, but I never saw any of them do it." "So you were examining the kids, fighting the monsters, and then what happened? What triggered Morgan's coup?" "Most of the scientists were killed in the first couple of attacks. That left a lot of techies and maintenance workers, and the military." Mulder's left knee began to bob up and down in frantic nervous activity. "Morgan played on people's sympathies; got them riled up about how we were 'torturing' these poor children." He shrugged again. "I was arguing that we needed to know what these kids were, and at the same time, I was working on the language." He started to rise again, but Skinner was standing so closely in front of him, he couldn't move. The knee began to bounce again. "It's over, Mulder," the older man said quietly. "None of this can hurt you now." He squatted down before his friend, one large hand resting on each of his friend's knees, stilling the frenetic movement. "I know, I know." Mulder drew a deep breath, sighed then drew a second breath. "After that first contact, well, I *think* it was after the first contact, Morgan and I really got into it. He -- attacked -- me. I think that's when my head was injured." From the galley, the sound of water boiling could be heard, and Skinner rose silently. He was back in a moment with tea, and Mulder sniffed suspiciously. "There's just a little bit in there, Mulder. Not enough to knock you out, just enough to help you calm down." He knew he should be offended -- he wasn't the same man with no memories and no experiences to draw on, needing someone else to make the decisions anymore -- but it was too much effort to be offended, so he nodded, took the cup, and sipped. Skinner moved to sit beside him. Close beside him, he realized, and once more made a mental note that they were going to have to talk about things before the sun came up. But for now, it felt good to have someone close. It was comforting, reassuring, and he was still too tired to go through the motions of independence. "I woke in the med bay. Someone had to have been here. My head had been stitched and I remember a voice, talking to me. I was sick, and weak, for a long time." He sipped the tea again, then shuddered. "I think that whoever was here with me may have locked everyone out. They may not have had any choice but to follow Morgan." That didn't agree with Houston's account that Mulder had changed the codes in the system so that is only responded to him. But for now, there was no way of knowing what had really occurred. The cup in his hand shook, and Skinner reached out and took it, setting it beside his own on the table before them. "You're safe here, Mulder. Nothing's going to hurt you here." One arm slipped behind him, resting loosely on the back of the couch. "Go on." "I remember hearing things, I think. When I was hurt. Voices. A voice. Over the speakers. Speaking to them." "Them?" "The Wa-teri-kem." He shrugged, then added, "I think." Mulder felt a little of his old anger entering his voice. Now that he knew the truth, he was beginning to realize the missed opportunities. "While I would stay inside at night, terrified of the monsters, someone else was communicating with them, using *my* language, *my* technique." His head dropped, resting cradled in his hands, the long locks falling forward almost to his lap. Skinner's hand gently rubbed his shoulders, a comforting touch, reassuring and attentive. "I remember hearing someone -- while I was still injured -- explaining about the others, urging them not to kill." He looked up suddenly, as if something had become clear. "The voice, it, uh, explained how the humans could be trained and kept as helpers, and asked that they be kept far from here." "They were herded away?" Skinner blinked. "Morgan said he'd found that place and was moving everyone there." "Morgan was a consummate liar, adept at manipulating people." Mulder glanced at Skinner, then sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Why didn't I remember this right away, after I recovered? Why did I create a separate personality to hold this information?" Skinner smiled and continued to knead the tense shoulders with one hand. "You're the psychologist here, but I can give you my best guess. Your memory loss was too severe. The emotional stress was too great. You were working in the dark, confused, injured, alone. You did what you had to do to keep safe and survive." Mulder chewed the inside of his lip, considering Skinner's explanations. It was impossible now to predict how he would have reacted at the time had he known the truth. Harder still to judge how he would have dealt with the knowledge of Morgan's group living a mere two-day's journey from where he spent his isolated existence. Frustrated, Mulder turned to Skinner. "I don't know what to believe. I don't know what the truth is." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and opened his mouth to continue, but the intercom buzzed before he could continue. "That's probably Aaron. We've had five messages from him since I got up. I'll be right back." Skinner was standing just down the hallway. "Aaron and Katherine are coming down in about ten minutes, Mulder. Why don't you get a shower and some breakfast, then come out when you're ready?" "OK." The bathroom was, as always, so clean there was no evidence of it having just been used. Mulder tossed his clothes over the back of the toilet and stepped into the shower, leaning into the hot spray. He was in no hurry to get out and join the meeting, but he knew it was just the start. They'd have to teach at least a handful of people the language, so they could teach the others. In a small way, he felt as if a private club of his had just been broken into and taken over, and he'd only just found it himself. At least Skinner had seemed agreeable to his suggestion that they leave and get out on their own some more. Mulder's fingers were beginning to wrinkle, so he decided he couldn't waste anymore time and finished his shower. There were eggs being kept warm in the galley, along with fruit juice and toast, so he breakfasted at the counter, listening to his friend retelling their tale. When he deemed it safe enough, Mulder took a deep breath and walked into the living area. Only Katherine and Dr. Scott were waiting for him there with Skinner, sitting at the large work table and conversing with excited expressions. Skinner smiled and waved him to the empty seat on his right, facing the people who sat side by side opposite them. On the table rested both statues. "Hey, Mulder. I've just filled them in on the basics. What we found, the people, stuff like that." Skinner nodded toward Scott. "I was just about to demonstrate some of the words." "Mulder, Walter here tells me you've recovered most of your memories. Is that right?" "Not all of them." Mulder eyed the doctor warily as he sat down. He still felt no need to share his life with these people, and giving him the satisfaction of knowing his memories could have been forced back after all was the last thing he was going to allow. "The language is simple, really." He picked up his sculpture in his right hand, refusing any further discussion of what he did or didn't remember. "You brought metal?" Aaron sighed and shot a glance at Skinner, then picked up a chunk of the silver-gray material, nodding at Katherine. "All right, I think we're ready for this." "I know I am." The exobiologist smiled hugely. "I knew there was something special about those creatures. Now I feel doubly foolish for having tried to tag them like wild beasts." Mulder looked over at Skinner, then resigned himself to the task at hand. He shifted his grip on the statue, cleared his throat to the accompaniment of shifting patterns and colors across the small figure, then began the lesson. Two hours into it, Skinner took over when Mulder's voice grew hoarse. He relinquished the statue quickly, then excused himself to go and fix lunch. To their credit, both scientists were learning quickly. Not as quickly as Skinner had, but at least the concept wasn't over their heads. The idea that the Wa-teri-kem were of a high intelligence was harder for Aaron to accept than Katherine, cementing Mulder's opinion of each person even more. But that only served to confuse his own thoughts further. Finding himself defending the actions and dignity of the same creatures who had terrorized him nearly two years still felt alien to him. How could the monsters who brought death and destruction with each cycle be the same animals he'd grown so fond of talking with? The same creatures who ravaged the people of this station, who created these odd, sad children -- those same creatures had also been his loving family and protectors. Mulder shook his head to clear it of all thoughts, then went to the bathroom to splash cold water over his face. The cleansing helped a little. Mulder shook his head, then sighed and left the room. Lunch was nearly ready, and he'd had enough frustration for a while, and yet more was waiting for him right outside the door. They broke for lunch, and Mulder avoided any and all of Scott's questions about his memory by allowing Katherine to monopolize his time with questions concerning the Wa-teri-kem themselves. Skinner deftly steered the doctor into a conversation about the soon-to-be arriving first group, saving his friend from the personal questions he hated so much. After lunch, they resumed the language lesson for another three hours, until everyone had absorbed more patterns and sounds than they could keep straight. "I still can't get over the idea that they've been out there all this time." Scott put down the metal he'd been learning with and shook his head. "To think we've been outside with who knows how many of them right there, hiding in the darkness, watching us the whole time." A slight shudder shook the older man's shoulders. "They weren't hiding." Mulder dropped his statue and began to turn it in circles on the table. He looked up at the doctor. "The Wa-teri-kem don't hide." "I didn't mean it that way, Mulder. It's not like they had evil intentions or anything," Scott quickly explained. "It's just that -- had we seen them -- I can imagine the panic that would have ensued if we'd found out they really didn't only come out in two week intervals after all." "Maybe that's why they stayed out of our sight." Skinner stood, pushing his chair back. "Either way, you have got to emphasize to the others how important this is. They can not go outside when the Wa-teri-kem are here unless they're willing or able to communicate." He looked at each person in turn, then nodded toward Mulder. "That's something the first group didn't seem to understand. These are aliens -- we have to keep that in mind." "So, you're serious when you say they don't understand us as a species?" Katherine stood more slowly, easing her chair backwards so it didn't make any sound. "That's fascinating." "I'm glad you think so," Aaron sighed. "I can see where this is going to cause some confusion." "It shouldn't." Mulder looked up at the man. Why was this so hard to comprehend? "If people aren't going outside to talk, they should stay in. When the Wa-teri-kem aren't hungry, it doesn't matter. When they're hungry, they feed. It's that simple." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "I suppose that is pretty simple." Scott looked up at Skinner. "Well, thank you both for the lesson. It's certainly enough to start with. Katherine, shall we go? We've got a lot of work ahead." "Peters and the others should arrive by tomorrow afternoon." Skinner walked to the door and tugged it open. "We're charging the generators tonight." Katherine paused at the door and looked back at Mulder. "You're sure we're safe this week?" "I'm sure." Scott seemed to hesitate, glancing from Mulder to Skinner, then turned and followed the woman up the stairs. Drifting down from the hallway upstairs could be heard many voices shouting orders and instructions. Mulder stood and walked up the stairs as well. "They're building more rooms, aren't they?" Men and women were rushing about, carrying large sheets of light-weight wallboard and other building components. "Gotta put those people somewhere, Mulder. You know how crowded this place was when we arrived." "I suppose." Mulder walked back to the table and collected his sculpture. "They could go back to the caverns, now that Morgan's dead." Skinner laughed shortly, then shut the door as Mulder came back downstairs. "They might, who knows? And right now, who cares? Come on, I can hear that hot tub calling my name." He marched straight for the bathroom, gathered up two large towels and shoved them in a pack. "Oh, right." Mulder snagged a small duffel bag and shoved in bread and cheese and bottled water, then followed his friend back up the stairs and down the corridor toward the med bay. He avoided any glance toward the occupied rooms and the new construction being busily put together, keeping his mind only on the hallway and the relaxation waiting ahead. It was an anticipation that grew quickly as they got closer to the med bay and the steaming water. Both men hurried to get out of their clothes and into the hot, bubbling water. Each eased himself down onto their respective ledges, settling tired heads against the padded edge. Mulder sighed heavily and allowed his entire body to relax and absorb the familiarity and security of being home again. Nearly an hour passed before either man said a word. A slight, cooling draft blew from somewhere, keeping them refreshed while the heat of the water massaged tired muscles and eased the worry and sensory overload of exhausted minds. A sudden crash from the hall woke Mulder from a slight doze. He opened his eyes and watched Skinner drowse. "Why weren't we like this before?" Skinner opened his eyes, catching sight of the serious expression on his agent's face. "This is a different place, a different time. Isolation allows people to be more open. Not as many societal taboos." He sat up slightly and rubbed his eyes, then reached around behind him for the duffel bag and two of the bottles held inside. "I don't want to have things go back to the way they were, Mulder." "I don't think I do either." Mulder accepted one of the bottles and twisted the cap off. "I'm just not sure what the rules are." "No rules. It doesn't work that way." Skinner took a long pull on his bottle, then smiled and shook his head. "I never had a lot of friends, not as a child, and not as an adult. I tend to be a private person, Mulder; I keep to myself. When you were gone, well, I got closer to Scully. We would meet sometimes, just to talk. But we couldn't do it a lot, it was too dangerous. And now that I've been here, and I've had this, uh, closer relationship with you, I don't want it to end." "How do we do that?" Skinner looked at Mulder for a moment before answering. "I don't know. I told you I'm not very experienced at friendship." He shrugged. "I was a lonely child, and a lonely man." Mulder held his bottle in the water, letting go of the plastic to see how well it floated. "Did you like your childhood?" "Did I like my childhood?" Skinner's eyebrows creased as he repeated the question. Mulder looked up, meeting his friend's gaze. There were a million things flashing through those dark eyes at that instant, a million different possible answers. He wanted to hear them all. "You never just want to talk about the weather or what's for dinner, do you?" Skinner's slight grin belied the irritation his question seemed to imply. "I'm tired of me. I'm tired of this place and those people. And I know what my childhood was like." Mulder nodded with his chin in the general direction of the rest of the station. "I want to know what your life was like. Before all this." "Well, if that's the case, we'll both want to be a little more drunk." Skinner recapped his water, then stood. "I think I remember seeing an unopened case of Scotch in the basement, OK?" "Yeah, OK." Mulder followed his friend out of the hot water, then toweled off and got dressed. "If we're going to dig up childhood skeletons, I can use a little fortification of my own." "Good." Skinner finished tying his shoes, then smiled and stood up. "Now, let's go have a good dinner and get drunk, shall we?" ****************************************** Skinner leaned back on the couch with a deep, contented sigh and rested the nearly empty glass on one knee. Two scotch and waters, light on the water, and a delicious casserole for dinner, were beginning to take over, making him warm and very content. "They'll be here by tomorrow, won't they?" Mulder set the last of the dishes on the counter to dry and walked out to the seating area. "Probably by late morning." Skinner eyed his friend as he approached the couch and got comfortable in the thick cushions. "Peters is in charge now, Mulder. There's little else we can do but wait things out." "I don't even want to think about them." Mulder yawned, then scooted back and rested further down on the couch. "I don't usually drink like this, you know. My dad was a drinker -- after Samantha disappeared. I didn't like what it did to him." Mulder passed his glass back and forth between his hands. "I'm as drunk as I tend to get. Will you tell me about what your life was like, now?" Skinner laughed shortly, then shook his head and set the tumbler of amber liquid down. He wanted to ask what was causing this sudden interest in his life, but the reasons were pretty plain. "It wasn't that bad, not really. It was just a childhood, nothing special." Mulder yawned again, covering his mouth with one hand. "So why did you have to get drunk to talk about it?" Skinner sighed softly and grabbed his tumbler, taking a long draught from it before replacing it on the table. One hand came up to remove his glasses, holding them in one hand while the other came up and fingers and thumb pinched the bridge of his nose in a familiar sign of frustration. "I'm sorry, Sir," Mulder mumbled. "I didn't realize this would be so hard for you." The older man shook his head. "No, it's all right. I just haven't thought about any of this in a long time. And I don't think I've ever talked about it." "What was so awful?" Mulder shifted uncomfortably on the couch, then rose quickly. "How about coffee? We can put the scotch in something hot." Skinner nodded and passed his tumbler to the other man as he rose. "I was an only child -- did you know that?" He didn't wait for an answer, just stared straight ahead. "My parents were both doctors -- my mom was an ER physician, and my dad worked for the state -- medical examiner. He had a law degree, too." From the galley came sounds of cupboards opening and water running, and then Mulder was back, nodding. "Overachievers, eh?" "Yeah." Skinner laughed ruefully. "It was a bit daunting. They were older when I was born, and I was pushed pretty hard to excel. Guess the stubborn streak in me made me want to fight it. I barely got through high school." "So signing up during the war wasn't totally motivated by a desire to save the world from communism?" Despite the circumstances, Skinner couldn't help but smile. It was nice to have Mulder's wry sense of humor back. He'd missed it. "You could say that. You wouldn't believe what my dad went through trying to get me out of my enlistment contract. I don't think my folks were more than tangentially aware there was a war on. They saw my joining the Marines as open defiance to their wishes. Aside from flunking out in school from about eighth grade on, I wasn't really that openly rebellious." "No long hair and peace symbol bell bottoms?" Skinner reached out and tugged gently at Mulder's long locks. "Not me." Mulder hand came up and pushed the hair back. "Not really me anymore either, Sir." He cast a questioning look at the AD. "Do I remember you offering to cut this?" "Yeah, I suppose I did." Skinner eyed the long hair, then met Mulder's eyes. "But only if you really want me to." "I do." Sounds from the galley indicated the coffee was done, and Mulder rose. He fixed to mugs, liberally laced with the scotch, then gathered them up and returned to the living area. While he had been working, Skinner had gathered towels and scissors, and laid them out on the table. He accepted the mug Mulder held out, took a sip, then put it down. "Take your shirt off and go wet your hair." When Mulder returned, he placed a towel around the younger man's shoulders and set to work. "So, you went in the Marines to avoid your parents' influence and ended up with a lifetime of learning experiences." Mulder was sitting still, listening to the steady sounds of the scissors shearing his hair. Long handfuls were falling rapidly to the floor. "And a degree in sociology. Don't forget that." "What did your folks think of that? Were they pleased you at least went back to college?" Skinner snorted. "Anything lest than post-doctoral studies didn't count with them." The last long handful was clipped and dropped to the floor. "There, now I have to work on trying to even it out." He moved around in front of Mulder, looking him in the eye. "You do know this won't be perfect?" Mulder shrugged. "So I'll tell GQ to come back next month. My suit is at the cleaner anyway." Skinner grabbed his mug again, taking a long swallow of the warm liquid, feeling the fire slide down his throat. Probably not the best time to try and cut his friend's hair, when he was half-crocked. But, he did ask ... "You were something of a child prodigy, weren't you Mulder? Shame you couldn't have been born to my folks and me to yours." Mulder froze, coffee mug half way to his mouth. "No," he whispered. "No. I wouldn't wish that on anyone." Skinner had stilled also, watching Mulder. And now he reached out, pulling the younger man's head into his belly. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to stir that up." One hand stroked the short but shaggy hair, while the other held his friend braced against him. " 's OK." The words were mumbled and Skinner wondered if he were really hearing tears. Damn all this alcohol anyway. Whose idea was it to let down all the safety barriers and hold this little emotion fest? "My dad used to -- well, it was hard. After Sam -- you know?" The words were still muffled and he showed no sign of wanting release from Skinner's embrace. "Took me years to figure out it wasn't my fault." "I'm so sorry." Skinner continued his gentle touch, waiting patiently for Mulder to go on. "I guess it made me sorta -- distrustful -- of authority figures." Mulder gave a shaky laugh. "Guess you've caught the brunt of that a few times." "The master of understatement, that's what you are, Fox, me boy." Skinner laughed and was pleased to feel Mulder relax somewhat under his touch. Then both hands came up and encircled his waist, clutching him hard. "I won't be like that now. I won't. I trust you with my life. You're as good to me as Scully, you're the best male friend I've ever had." "You too, Mulder, you too." Skinner hugged the younger man back, once again reflecting on the wisdom of alcohol and emotions. He pulled back gently, looking down in time to see Mulder's eyelids slide shut. "Listen, you're asleep already. And I'm pretty wiped out myself. Too much scotch, I think." Skinner sighed again and forced himself a step or two back, then reached down and offered Mulder a hand. "Let's get some sleep. Things are gonna be pretty hectic around here for a few days or so. As soon as things settle down, you'll have all the time in the world to be bored by stories of my childhood." Reluctantly, Mulder accepted the hand off the couch, then yawned again without attempting to cover it. "Promise?" "Yes. Now use the bathroom so I can get in there. I wanna take a shower before I go to bed." He watched his friend stumble into the bathroom, then he went over to check the door to the stairs. Outside in the station, he could hear generators humming, could feel the faint vibrations through the floor. It made him recall the Wa-teri-kem's promise not to hunt near the complex this cycle. Amazing creatures. Highly intelligent, polite, even bashful. Yet the feel of the vibrations through the floor still sent a shiver down his spine. Skinner shook off the feeling and secured the door, then shut off the lights on his way to the now empty bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and set them on the counter, then gathered up Mulder's discarded items from the corner on the floor and added them to his pile. After brushing his teeth and rinsing out the aftertaste of the alcohol, he stepped into the shower and cranked on the water. Mulder's recent questioning about his past was bringing it all back. Skinner stood under the spray as it slammed into his head, recalling his father's stingy attitude toward water and power usage. His parents had both earned good salaries, they'd always lived comfortably, yet his father insisted on 60 watt light bulbs and two minute showers, at a maximum. And he'd had to turn the water off while he was lathering his hair. Skinner had learned to understand and even appreciate water rationing in the military, where space and resources were limited by time and location. And water conservation was good for the planet. But the more he learned about other people, the more he understood how need for control had been his father's motivation, not paternal wisdom and ecological awareness. Irritated by those thoughts, Skinner suddenly realized he'd been scrubbing his head so hard the shower stall was filled with foamy soap lather. "Damn you, old man." He forced his head back under the spray and felt the tingle of stimulated skin being hit by water under pressure. It never changed. No matter how old he grew, or how far away he traveled, his father still had a power over him he couldn't seem to conquer. What was it he kept telling Mulder? The past can't hurt you. "But it does reserve the right to piss you off now and again." Skinner shut off the water and waited until most of the soap foam slid from his legs before grabbing a towel and drying off. He stuffed his and Mulder's clothes into their hamper, then added his now damp towel and walked to the bedroom. The lights from his friend's room were already off, so he set his small lamp to the dimmest setting to keep much light from shining through the small gap where the door between the rooms still wouldn't secure. The book he'd been reading waited patiently on the night stand, but the alcohol and emotion of that evening were winning. Skinner found he barely had the energy to climb into bed before the tug of sleep began pulling him downward. The children were everywhere, running past him in a blur of motion and laughter. Walter stood in the hallway, watching them rush past, but when he turned to join them in their hurry to the park, something tugged at his shoulder. He turned and looked up, into the eyes of his father. "You have studies. Get to them." In slow motion, his father turned to watch the last of the children turn the far corner of the corridor. He looked back down at Walter and released his hold. "Play is a waste of valuable time." Walter said nothing as his father walked away. The sound of the other children was fading away as they left the school doors and headed for the park across the street. He'd been in the park a few times, but only to work on an assignment that required time in the out of doors. When he turned back to watch his father walk away, he was no longer in the hallway. Surrounding him now were rows and rows of curtained cubicles and the air was filled with the inescapable smell of hospital. He was spending yet another interminable school day afternoon in the Emergency Room, waiting for his mother to finish 'just one more case.' As he watched, a gurney raced by, the boy on it someone he knew from school, a classmate. He turned to follow, listening to the EMT make her report. "Ten year old male, status post auto versus bicycle. He was thrown twenty-five feet and suffered massive head injury. His Glasgow coma scale was three on arrival and has been unchanged en route. Vital signs: blood pressure: unable to obtain in field. Pulse: 120 and thready; breathing: agonal. We started two large bore IVs." "I can't get a blood pressure either, and he's starting to brady down." Walter watched as his mother and others hovered over the young boy, and then slowly pulled a sheet up over the still form. He stood in the doorway as they wheeled the body into a small room, and watched the parents cry and wail as their loss became clear. "Let that be a lesson to you, boy." His father was back. "See what comes of wasting time frivolously?" It was incredible. "No!" Skinner launched himself from the bed and was halfway through the door into Mulder's room before he became consciously aware of what he was doing. "What is it?" "Dammit!" Mulder was sitting up in bed, the blankets thrown to the floor, sweating and shaking his head. "Nightmare?" Skinner stood beside the bed, blinking. "Sorry." Skinner shook his head, then sat on the end of the bed and ran a hand over his head. "It's OK; you woke me out of one myself." He shivered as his feet picked up the vibrations of the generators. "They're recharging tonight." "I know." Mulder pushed at his hair from habit, then stopped, surprised, when he realized how short it was. He shook his head slowly from side to side. "It was them again." "The Wa-teri-kem?" "No!" Mulder looked Skinner in the eyes with a quick flash of anger that vanished almost immediately. "It was them. Those creatures that came in the darkness, pulling people apart in seconds. Then there was blood, and then nothing. Nothing left where someone had been." Skinner blinked again, then caught up to what his friend was saying. As if understanding his momentary confusion, Mulder explained. "I can't put them together. I just can't. And I don't want to." "It's all right." Skinner put a hand on Mulder's leg and forced back a yawn. "Give it time." Mulder opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind and nodded. "I'm sorry I woke you. What were you dreaming about?" "Me? Oh, just something that happened a long time ago." Skinner twisted his neck from side to side to relieve a slight kink, then shrugged. "I'll tell you about it tomorrow; I'm tired." "Yeah." "You're fine now?" "I'm fine, it was just ... the usual. Good night." Skinner paused a moment, then sighed and got up. "Good night." He went back to bed and forced his mind into an old relaxation mantra he'd learned in Nam, designed to free the mind of any particular thoughts. It usually helped the night before a big offensive, and often cured the common nightmare of never waking up at all. It worked on old childhood memories, too. ************************************** But nothing worked against the day ahead. Skinner, at least, was prepared for the onslaught and confusion of the influx of refugees from the caves. When he and Mulder came out of the basement the next morning and saw the multiple additions to the station, the hordes of people rushing about making last minute adjustments to the building and preparing to receive their original first group members back into the team, Skinner expected his agent to vanish completely from sight. Instead, the younger man recovered from an initial surge of shock and uneasiness, and neatly tucked himself in beside, and slightly behind, Skinner's taller frame like a shy fledgling. There was no hand gripping Skinner's belt this time, and no pulling away whenever someone approached, but Mulder made it perfectly clear to anyone willing to understand that things hadn't changed. They spotted Katherine leading a small group in a language lesson. "Katherine, would you let me know when Peters gets here? I have some security concerns now that we have a larger group." "Sure thing." He nodded in the general direction of the vehicle bay. "Come on, Mulder, we've got a 'cat that needs cleaning and maintenance." Mulder's reaction was a cheerful -- if not possibly over-exuberant -- nod of his head as he followed Skinner. They spent the better part of the morning cleaning the 'cat, then enjoyed a quiet lunch in Tom Hinman's office discussing use of the vehicle and making arrangements for it to be available should they decide to go out again. "I think it could handle long-range exploration just fine." Skinner knew the innocent look his friend had plastered on his face hid a new-found and very strong desire to get away from the station. "Yes, it probably would." He leaned back, balancing the chair he was sitting in on its rear legs, and shot Tom a quick wink. "Of course, you'd have to be able to maintain it, and perform any repairs. If it had any problems too far out, we'd be stranded for some time." "I could do that." Mulder nodded willingly. "We could download the satellite files in more detail and I could make thorough maps." "You know, it might be interesting to see what else is out there now. Never would have expected finding those creature things in the first place." Tom hefted his coffee cup in a salute to the younger man's suggestion. "I wonder if those Wa-ter-whatsis's have been any where else? Or is this the only area they live in?" He gave a large sigh and looked out the small porthole window. "And does anyone else on the planet know they're here?" "I suspect someone knows they're here." Skinner glanced at Mulder, who simply shrugged in reply and said nothing. "We'll have to ask them, I suppose." He finished his own coffee and set the cup down, lowering his chair with a muffled thud. Before he could suggest another line of thought, the office intercom buzzed to life. "Hey, Tom, it's Katherine. Is Walter in there, by chance?" "Right here." "Oh, perfect. Peters is just coming in now. I told him you wanted a meeting." "Thanks, I'll be right there." The unit clicked off, and Skinner turned to Mulder. Before he could speak, his friend stood and brushed crumbs from his shirt. "As I recall, I'm not very good with things mechanical, but if we're going to get out of here, I better start learning my way around that machine." Skinner smiled and accepted his friend's unspoken plea for a reprieve without argument. He pointed one finger at Mulder's chest. "Don't sell yourself short. You kept this place running for two years. That's pretty damn good for someone of your admittedly questionable background in mechanics." "Right. I will." "Tom, thanks for the lunch." Skinner nodded to the mechanic, then slapped Mulder on the back, propelling him gently from the office and toward 'their' parked Snowcat. After giving his partner a slight shove in the proper direction, he veered off and left the garage. The view through the window in the vehicle bay doorway was almost overwhelming. Mountains of ice rose majestically in the distance, and the moon hung, full and heavy, just above the horizon. Overhead, stars winked down at the mass of people disembarking the trackers and climbing down from the smaller Snowcats. He paused, watching the scene, as blanket-wrapped refugees from the first group approached their second group contemporaries. The meeting was hesitant, at first. A large group of Peters' people began to move forward in greeting, then seemed to stop and stare as the others ceased their forward movement and gazed ahead at the greeters and buildings. Several minutes passed in the icy cold, each group merely staring at the other, unmoving. Finally, three scientists broke free of the stalemate and marched forward, hands extended. Skinner couldn't see individual faces from where he stood, but from the body language and clothing, he assumed Dr. Houston was one of the refugees who struggled free of the pack to accept the welcome. "I've got to admit, I have mixed feelings about this whole thing." Skinner turned and looked at Tom, surprised the mechanic had been standing so close. He sighed and shot a glance back toward Mulder. From deep inside the bay, there was no chance the man could see any of what was taking place. "I haven't met any of these people yet, and already I'm mad at them." Tom slapped a gloved hand against his trousers, sending up a cloud of dust. "Not just for what they did to the guy, but mind you, that's bad enough." "I know it's hard to imagine, Tom, but Mulder is a better man for what he's been through." Skinner shook his head slowly, watching the two groups now mixing more freely as the first group worked their way up to the station's entrance. "With his head injury, and the psychological trauma, I can't imagine what it would have done to him if they'd taken him along." "Maybe you're right, all things considered." Tom gave one final shake of his head and turned away. "But I reserve the right not to like them one little bit." Skinner laughed shortly as the mechanic walked away, then began a slow walk down to find the colonel. Sometimes he hated being the voice of reason. Sometimes he even hated the fact that reason had a voice. When your gut was telling you hatred and anger were the best roads to take, and your head insisted civility and understanding were the better routes, that voice was often the only thing separating you from the very thing you hated. It was the only thing that had kept him from killing McMurray and Morgan with his bare hands. Yet to have done so would have lowered him to their level. But he, too, reserved the right to dislike these people. With some reluctance, Skinner walked through the crowds at the main entrance, then excused his way down the corridors until he finally reached Peters' office. Inside, gratefully, he found only the colonel. "Peters, how'd it go last night?" Skinner helped himself to a comfortable chair opposite the colonel's desk. "Strange, actually." Peters leaned forward, resting both elbows on the simulated wood. "When we settled in for the night, I assured everyone we were safe this one time, but it got pretty eerie. We had arranged a make-shift dome, with limited heating, but those people went completely silent, all night long." He shook his head and suppressed a slight shudder. "Not one word was spoken from the time we declared sleep, until it was time to get up. Even the children were quiet. They didn't even whisper to each other, that I could tell." "They're a strange lot. They've all been on drugs for a prolonged time, and there's still no telling what else may have happened to them." Skinner swallowed back the rest of the comment he wanted to make and pressed on. "And now we have to deal with them." "Yes, well, Aaron is interviewing that Dr. Houston person. He was the first group's physician, but then you know that already." Peters rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily. "Look, Peters, I'm not going to try and interfere with how you handle this. These scientists are your people. I don't even think they're going to be much of a security problem, now that Morgan is both gone." His jaw clenched unconsciously and he frowned. "But I want a tight hold kept on McMurray. I want him to answer for what he did." They were interrupted by a man who raced breathlessly up to them. "Colonel Peters, I'm glad you're back. McMurray has been on the radio almost constantly for hours now. He's demanding to speak to Mulder." Peters raised an eyebrow at Skinner. "Is he up to that?" Skinner shrugged. "He's a big boy. I can't make his decisions for him." He turned and walked quickly back to the big garage. "Hey, Mulder," he called, and was rewarded with an answered shout. "McMurray is driving the comm people nuts; says he has to talk to you." The younger man nodded as he walked toward Skinner. "So what does our friend want?" "Not a clue. Guess we'll just have to go find out." The two men fell into step together and paced quickly through the halls to the comm room. When they got there, Skinner realized Peters had beaten him. "... doesn't carry a lot of weight with me, McMurray," the colonel was saying. He looked up, saw Mulder and Skinner and nodded. "Just a minute. He's here." He rose from his seat, indicating Mulder should sit before the monitor. He took the seat offered, then realized they had a video feed on the storage building the lieutenant colonel was imprisoned in. "What do you want, McMurray?" Mulder asked in a deadly tone. "Get me out of here, Mulder. You're the only one they'll listen to!" The man was wild-eyed, panicked and he moved franticly about the room. "Why should I do that? What on earth would I want to help you for?" McMurray moved closer to the video unit, staring with unblinking eyes into the camera. "They're here, Mulder. They're here. They can come up through the floor, through the walls. Anywhere they want. They come and they stare at me. All the time. It never stops. One goes and another takes its place." He reached up and wiped his hand across his brow and Mulder could see the sweat fly into the air. "You're being held for attempted murder, McMurray, amongst other things. A little time on ice won't hurt you." Mulder smiled coldly at the man. "Mulder, I'm all alone here -- alone with those things." "You didn't seem to have any problem leaving me alone with them." Mulder looked up at Skinner, waiting to see if the other man had something to say, but the AD merely shook his head. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, don't leave me here like this!" McMurray was close to tears, his hands moving convulsively at his sides as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "It seems like a fitting situation to me." Mulder stared at the man, willing himself to feel something besides the blaze of rage that engulfed him. This man had hauled him fifty miles out onto the ice and then abandoned him at a time when he hardly knew who he was. Despite what he knew about the Wa-teri-kem now, that night on the ice remained as one of the most terrifying experiences of his life. No, he wasn't ready to be merciful just yet. Mulder shook his head, then rose. "I'm going back to the vehicle bay. No one made a move to stop him as he stalked from the room, though Skinner did follow him with his eyes. When Mulder was out of sight, the AD picked up the mike. "McMurray? Let me make a suggestion. Be a man. Deal with your situation and don't make it worse. Don't end up like Morgan." He paused, watching as the other man stiffened, then hung his head. "And don't tie up the comm channels anymore." He flicked a switch and the screen went black. "About Morgan ..." Peters cleared his throat. "We've heard different accounts of just what happened back there. But, if I understand it right, these people vacated before it all happened." "Morgan almost killed McMurray. They were trying to outsmart each other, I think." Skinner met Peters' gaze straight on. "Morgan was killed after that. It was all pretty quick, there was nothing anyone could have done." Peters leaned back in his chair. "There's nothing I need to concern myself with, then?" "Nothing." Skinner forced his jaw not to clench too tightly. "What we need to concern ourselves with are the Wa-teri-kem. This is a brand new ball game, Peters. Your people may be trained for this, but no group has ever been face to face with it before." "I know, I know." He nodded several times and drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. "Right now Mulder is our leading authority on that matter." Skinner immediately jumped to his partner's rescue. "He's already told everyone what he knows, Peters. He's not holding anything back. Both Aaron and Katherine learned the basics of the language, and I think Katherine's already teaching what she's learned." He wasn't about to let them put Mulder back into center stage. "He's remembered nothing more?" Peters' eyebrows raised hopefully. "Nothing pertaining to the first group." "Yes, well, as you say, my people have been trained for this." He cast a guilty glance at the floor, knowing full well Skinner had been involved in this expedition without his true consent. "I'm sure once the initial shock wears off, they'll realize what we have here and the sheer scientific joy of it all will return." Skinner refrained from commenting about the 'scientific joy' shown thus far. "One thing to remember, Peters, and at this stage it couldn't be more simple. If anyone is unable, or unwilling, to communicate with the Wa-teri-kem on their terms during their feeding cycles, they *must* remain indoors. The first group didn't seem willing to accept that restriction." Peters' eyebrows creased in thought as he seemed to contemplate the edge of his desk. "You say these creatures are pretty intelligent?" "Very." Skinner nodded once, firmly. "They have intelligence, humor, a sense of honor." He swallowed, recalling Jeffrey Morgan's last seconds. "And vengeance. They associate intelligence with communication, and seemed to delight in teaching me their language. And they're very patient." Oddly enough, he found himself reluctant to share any specifics of that night. It had been a profoundly moving, and personal, experience. "At any rate, they're here. We don't know why, or how, but they are. And until we can figure out how to get ourselves out of this icy wasteland and back to the real world, your people are going to have to accept their rules. No matter how odd the Wa-teri-kem might seem." "Oh, I know. Believe me, we're prepared, once the shock wears off. Katherine seems to have adapted already, but that's to have been expected. This is her field, after all." Peters took a deep breath, then stood, pushing his chair away. "I'll arrange for a gathering tonight, just before dinner, when things have calmed down a bit. I'd like you to go over the facts with everyone, just briefly if you don't mind. They know you've been there, and they respect you as the representative of our law down here." Skinner wasn't sure everyone there did, but that was his position, after all. He stood and walked to the door. "I'll give it my best. But as soon as things settle down some, Mulder and I may take off. I'm not sure I want to wait around for the sun to come up and the comm links to start working again. We may be able to make it to McMurdo or Davis Station; maybe even Amundsen-Scott at the Pole. Anything but sitting here and waiting." "Yes, of course. That would be a good idea." Skinner paused at the door, watching Peters. His tone suggested some undercurrent he should inquire about, but his body language seemed to be in conflict. "I'll talk to the group tonight, and help everyone settle in, but the rest is in your hands." "We can handle it, never fear." A quick nod was the only agreement Skinner offered before leaving the office. The corridors were crammed with bodies, all talking and explaining so many things at the same time, it was impossible to follow any conversation as he pushed his way gently but firmly through the masses. Several groups he passed he couldn't even identify, as the refugees were rapidly reverting back to more acceptable standards of dress and behavior. Navigating the crowded hallways was confusing and taxing. Skinner found the nearest exit and squeezed through it, back into the open air of early afternoon, though the ever-present moon still shone. He circled around the station as quickly as possible, his boots breaking through the thin ice layer that covered the snowy ground, the steady 'crunch, crunch' loud in the star-lit darkness. He shivered as he reached the vehicle bay doors and slipped inside. "Hey, Mulder, how's it going?" Skinner had managed to return to the 'cat and his partner without any tag-alongs. Mulder looked up from under the vehicle where he lay on his back, grease covering the majority of chin and forehead. "Almost done." Skinner chuckled at the sight of the exuberant, filthy face smiling back up at him. "For once, you get first dibs on the shower. I'll be right back -- I need to talk to Tom for a second." "OK." Mulder ignored the comment about his appearance and happily returned to his task. "Tom, listen, I don't want to sound paranoid or anything, but ..." "I've got the bay wired with motion sensors, and every vehicle has a lock on it -- I'm the only one with the codes." "You're one step ahead of me." Skinner smiled, relieved that the mechanic had anticipated his request, and hadn't thought ill of him for the precaution. "Can't be too careful. Least wise, not till we get to know these people." Tom hitched one shoulder and shrugged off the security measures. "And I, for one, intend to keep myself neatly locked away at night, just like before. I'm just a mechanic, not one of those alien relations types." "I heard that." Skinner ran a hand over his face, already anticipating the evening's lecture. "Take it easy." When he returned to the 'cat, Mulder was securing the access panels. "I don't know if it really need the oil changed, but I did it anyway. I figure we can go longer with it being done, than if I put it off." He stowed the tools and wiped dirty hands on the bottom half of his shirt, then brushed some errant strands of hair away from his face. The motion caused yet another smear of dark lubricant to be deposited on his face. Skinner suppressed a laugh and nodded in the direction of their basement home. "Come on, grease monkey. Time to get cleaned up and think about dinner." "Did you want to go to the hot tub?" Skinner shoved Mulder's parka at him and they headed back out into the frigid air, where they wouldn't have to deal with the corridors full of people. "No, I don't have much time. I promised Peters I'd speak to the gathering tonight. Just to go over some things, no big deal." He glanced at his partner, fleetingly wondering if Mulder had applied the dirt to his face on purpose as a camouflage for the walk through the crowds. "You don't have to be there if you don't want to." "What are you going to say?" Skinner shrugged. "Peters' going to make a speech or something, then introduce a few people. Let them know who's in charge of what." "And you're security, right?" Mulder glanced up at him as they walked, hazel eyes sparkling through a black-smeared face. "So they'll know there can't be another Morgan or McMurray taking over." "McMurray was one of my group, remember?" Skinner reached up and worked the lock on their private entrance, glancing quickly down at his friend. "That was different." Mulder waved a hand in the air, dismissing the man completely, then stepped inside. "Oh?" Skinner followed him inside, then down the stairs. "And exactly how is that different?" "He didn't know the truth." Mulder continued toward the bathroom, peeling off his shirt as he walked. His comment had to wait while the cloth temporarily blocked his face. "Morgan did. And now everyone else does, too. And they can't hide from it anymore." The shirt was tossed inside the door of Mulder's bedroom, followed by pants, boots and shorts. "So it's different now." He stepped into the bathroom, and moments later steam began wafting through the half-open door. "Maybe some things are different now." Skinner walked into Mulder's room and retrieved the soiled clothes, stuffing them into the hamper. It was too early to worry about dinner, so he made some coffee and walked back out to the work area. From the computer console, he booted up his surveillance program so that he could scan every inch of the station's interior. He made himself comfortable and started flipping through each view, watching the activity. Dr. Houston was no longer clad in long robes, but currently wore a pair of dark trousers and the standard issue white lab coat of medical personnel. He was sitting on a chair in sick bay, conversing intently with Aaron and a woman whose name he couldn't remember. Skinner hit a key and the view changed. People were eating in the dining hall, conversations running over and through one another. "Hey, the shower's free if you wanted it." Skinner looked up as Mulder sat down across from him. His hair was still soaking wet and sticking up in an awkward peak from his crown. Water dripped from both sides and was being caught by a towel draped around his back. A few errant drops ran happily down a bare chest to be soaked up by the sweatpants, the only clothing Mulder had bothered to put on. "No, I'm fine. I was just checking the place out." He flipped another switch and changed their view from inside the building to the center of the complex's exterior. Snow and ice shimmered in the light of the moon and here and there dark shadows moved as people still brought equipment off the vehicles and into the station. "How did the Wa-teri-kem get here do you think? Have they said?" "No." Mulder shook his head, then pulled the towel up to rub more of the dampness out of his hair. "They haven't said, but I haven't asked, either." Skinner nodded and didn't press the issue. "Listen, why don't you see what kind of maps you can make from the satellite images? I'm going to be busy for a few days, maybe a week, just till things settle down here." Skinner set his coffee on the table and eyed his friend. "I know it's not easy with -- them -- here now. But I'm still thinking, when this all blows over and they get settled into whatever they were sent here to do, you and I -- we, that is -- we could head out." "Go exploring?" Mulder's eyes lit up, sparkling dazzling green with hope. "Yeah, exploring." Skinner smiled back, then nodded. "Or just set off for the coast and find our own transport out of here. I have a feeling in a month or so, they'll all be comfortably back into scientific mode. With the Wa-teri-kem dictating policy, and Peters' people fulfilling their cultural dreams, so to speak, we'll never be missed." "I'll get started right away." Without another word, Mulder practically launched out of the seat and propelled himself toward the computer. Skinner laughed as he turned back to the monitors. His friend's enthusiasm should, by all rights, exhaust him. But instead, he found it strangely invigorating. The scans and observations occupied his time until smells of fish stew wafted from the galley. "I can start collecting an overview of the satellite images tonight." Mulder sopped up the last of the juices from his bowl with a chunk of thick bread. He'd keenly avoided any mention of the newcomers upstairs, or the meeting Peters had planned for that evening. "It'll take a while to sort through all the data and make usable maps. The mountains need to be added in and we'll have to figure out how to by-pass them if we want to head for another station." "Good, that should keep you busy for a bit." Skinner leaned back in his chair, comfortably full and slightly drowsy. He knew Mulder was looking for a reason not to go to the gathering upstairs. Not that he needed any more reason than simply the desire not to go. "I'll leave it to you to pick the best direction and route." The expression that answered him was one of surprise and seriousness. "Well, I'd better get out there and see what's what." He pushed himself out of the chair, reluctant to disrupt the drowsiness of a full stomach. "Don't wait up, this might take a while." Mulder rewarded him with a quick nod and mumbled assurances that he took as relief for not being asked to come along. In fact, it was a chore he was beginning to wish *he* could skip altogether. *************************************** Gathered in the center of the vehicle bay, the largest space in the facility, were a good hundred or more people, some still wearing the patched clothes and robe-like overgarments from the caverns, but others in more standard attire. At the head of the group stood a makeshift stage where Peters, Aaron, Katherine and a couple of other scientists milled about, engaging each other in deep conversation. Skinner headed straight for the stage, then took the seat Aaron waved him to as Peters cleared his throat and began to address the crowd. Sitting at the far end of the line of section heads, Skinner scanned the group while Peters brought everyone up to date on their situation and schooled everyone on the buildings and plans for the immediate future. From his vantage point, he could see well into the mass of individuals, easily picking out members of the first group. Most of them listened with eager expressions, seemingly ready and willing to rejoin society and to work on the goals that had brought them to Nihility in the first place. Others looked shell-shocked from the change of location and the new people surrounding them. Of the faces Skinner could see, none appeared anxious or what he would have considered potentially threatening. Most of the population was either gathered here, or watching from various vantage points around the complex. He knew the others were seeing and hearing Peters' speech on the monitors inside. With luck -- and God knew it was time for some -- these people, both new and old, would settle happily into their chosen fields now that they had the Wa-teri-kem to learn from and study. Now that they understood. Now, perhaps, they'd settle into the single-minded scientists he'd come to know. During Peters' explanations, there was a muffled sound of machinery turning on, and the hum of the generators could be heard as well as felt through the metal flooring. Several eyes darted up and around, but those who still felt nervous were reassured by others who felt bolstered after the calm of the nights before. Those willing to accept the promise of one cycle of peace hurried to calm the fears of the less convinced. "And finally, though I trust his professional services won't be needed often, Assistant Director Skinner, of the FBI, will be heading up our temporary Polar Security force." Peters turned slightly and held out a hand, indicating Skinner should stand and say something profound. "I'm only Station Security." Skinner stood and drew slightly confused glances at his correction. "The aliens -- the Wa-teri-kem -- have had run of the area for who knows how long, and they are more powerful, more adapted to the environment than we are, so they'll have the final say regarding anything we do here. The laws we have can only govern us. Anything relating to them is subject to their justice." His comment received a round of nods and approving murmurs as the scientists agreed with the notion. With his small contribution finished, and in fact the general need for the gathering ended, Skinner excused himself before the crowds could begin wandering around, blocking any clear paths. When he returned to the basement, the moon was full and white above the complex. He opened the door, then secured it for the night behind him before trotting down the stairs. "There's not enough room for all of them." Skinner looked up, startled to find Mulder sitting in the dark at the computer workstation. He walked up to the man and noticed the monitor had been set to the camera in the vehicle bay. "They'll have to make do. We can't stay cut off from the world forever. Eventually, the people that funded this little expedition will have to acknowledge we're here and come for us, I think. Scully knows; others will find out. They can't just pretend we're not here." He leaned back against the bulkhead that separated the work area from the galley, amused that Mulder had been watching his little announcement. "Do you think the Wa-teri-kem will adjust to having humans living down here?" Mulder shrugged and flipped off the monitor. "I don't know." He stood and turned around so he could rest against the edge of the console. "How many are living here?" Skinner's question was met with a blank stare that morphed slowly into a vacant, thoughtful gaze. "I don't know." Hazel eyes darkened and eyebrows creased with puzzlement. "I'm not sure if I wasn't curious, or I just don't remember." Skinner laughed shortly, then nodded toward the back, indicating his desire to go to bed. "You were curious enough when it counted, Mulder. I think we can worry about the rest ourselves." ******************************************** There was a white light shining down on him, brighter than anything he'd ever seen, and it blinded him and made his head hurt. Or maybe his head hurt anyway, he wasn't sure. It was hard to think, harder to remember. "... stage of colonization. Hybridization is ..." There had been an accident. No! An attack! He had been attacked! He was hurt, badly. And he had thought he was going to die. But here he was, remarkably whole, and lying on a bed in the medical unit of the station. If he could just remember how he had gotten here ... "... success with some of the fertilized ovum. Impossible to tell they're not human ..." People were talking. But he was alone. How could there be people talking? His head had been hurt and he was sure he was going to die. He'd been unconscious for a long time, and when he came to, he was so weakened from days without water and food, the loss of blood, he was sure he was going to die. But he was alive, here, in this place, alive. His head hurt, and his memory was cloudy, but he remembered being alone. Everyone had left. He was alone. So why were there voices in the light? " ... decisive action by one of the factions. They'll turn on each other ..." The light moved and it grew suddenly dark. A shadow was looming over him, black on black against a sea of black, and there were sounds and colors and patterns swirling around him, drawing him into the whirling movements. It was his nightmare come to life, reaching out for him with clawed hands. He couldn't breathe now, his chest was tight, his lungs were straining. A sound escaped his lips, a strangled sigh halfway between a cry and a gasp. "... clones. The DNA can be restructured ... " The voices were so loud. There were hands on his arms now, and a needle pushing into his skin, then something liquid, burning was surging through him and he was screaming, screaming, screaming ... "Mulder!" Skinner had tried waking the man gently, calling him softly, but nothing would jar him from whatever terror had seized him and would not let him go. He was on the younger man's bed now, gripping him tightly by the shoulder as he shook him bodily. "Mulder!! Wake up! Mulder!" His own cries were drowned in the unending scream that poured from his friend's open mouth. Frightened hazel eyes, dark with fear, and wet, stared unseeingly through him. He shook him again, feeling the clammy fear sweat drip from the man's head and chest, then took a deep breath, drew back one hand, slapped him hard across the face. "MULDER!" Silence rolled through the room with the same shocking intensity of thunder on a calm summer night. Hazel eyes blinked, then focused, and then Mulder seemed to fold into himself, collapsing into Skinner's broad chest, sobbing in pain and confusion. He held him close and crooned soothing sounds all the while wondering what the hell had set this off. Mulder had been amazingly stable of late. Occasional nightmares, yes, but easily awakened and easily calmed, and he hadn't had to resort to the sedative in some time. But tonight, he was sure, he'd be brewing tea and sitting on the couch with his friend until this particular demon had been dragged into the light. His thoughts had so occupied him, he'd missed the subtle movement of the man in his arms, missed the slow quieting of heavy sobs into softer sniffles, missed the hand that had pulled from around his waist to swipe awkwardly at swollen eyes. Missed the tensing of discomfort as Mulder came back from wherever his dreams had taken him. He tightened his grip for a moment, strong hand stroking the other man's chilled skin, then reluctantly let go. "You with me now, Mulder?" Skinner helped the younger man to sit upright in the bed, watching as he nodded wordlessly. "Think you can talk about it?" A shrug. One hand came up and covered the red eyes, wiping futilely at a runny nose. Skinner rose and padded to the bedroom, returning with tissues and a warm, damp rag. He thrust the tissues forward. "Here. Blow." When Mulder was finished, he reached out and gently bathed the tear-streaked face, brushing the now-short hair back from his forehead, and letting the cloth linger on the swollen eyes. The younger man leaned forward unconsciously, and Skinner supported him, just letting him rest his head against a strong arm, waiting patiently until he was able to pull himself erect again. He passed over the rag, then rose slowly, tucking pillows behind his friend and pulling the blankets up to warm him. "Stay put. I'll be back in a moment." Another slight nod, and Skinner ducked out of the room, grabbed his glasses from his bedside table, then headed for the galley. It was quick work to heat water and brew tea, and he dumped a generous amount of the sedative into Mulder's mug. Both cups went on the table by the couch, then he went back and grabbed his friend's arm, pulling him and walking him out to their living area. He pushed him gently onto the cushions, then wrapped a blanket around him and tucked the steaming mug into still shaking hands. "Here. Drink." Mulder drank. "Scotch? Or the drug?" "The drug this time. I don't think we have enough scotch to chase this away." Skinner was still standing before the couch, looking down at the man huddled there. He ran one hand over his head, then lifted his own cup and drank. "Can you talk about it?" Mulder shook his head, then nodded. "It's -- fragmentary." He shook his head again. "I'm not sure I can piece it together." "So don't piece. Just tell me what you remember." "It was when I was hurt. After everyone left." He took another sip of the fragrant tea. "But there were people here." Mulder closed his eyes, visualizing the scene from his dream. "But I'm not sure they were people." He shuddered, and Skinner reached out to touch his arm. "What do you mean?" Mulder took another sip of the tea, eyes still closed. "Wa-teri-kem. It mean children, or something like that. Their young ones." Skinner nodded slowly. "From what you've told me, yes." "They need a way to protect their young ones. They're not -- sentient -- for a long, long time." Mulder rolled his shoulders and Skinner shifted his hand from arm to neck, beginning a massage at the knot of tension he felt there. "Oh, man, that feels good." Mulder dropped his head and was still for a moment, while Skinner worked at the muscles of his neck and shoulders. "We're caught in a dispute -- a war, if you will -- between two factions of the Wa-teri-kem. Only they're not called that." "What're they called?" Skinner's thumb dug deeply into the ridge of Mulder's shoulder, pressing hard. "Mmmm. I may be able to sleep after all. The tea, the talk, the touch. You have it all." "Focus, Agent Mulder." Skinner smiled as he teased his friend. "I don't know what they're called. One group wants to just turn the little bastards loose on us unsuspecting humans and let them clear the world for colonization." Skinner froze, then resumed his slow kneading of knotted muscles. "And the other group?" "They were here first. Their kids are older. They're the ones we've met, can talk to. They're sorta monitoring -- containing -- the other ones." "Containing?" "Yeah. Remember how I said they can shift into a liquid state? When the non-sentient ones get out of line, the older ones just -- absorb -- them." "This was your dream?" "Nah." Mulder yawned. "Sorry. How much of that stuff did you put in here?" "Enough to make sure you sleep. That was a pretty intense nightmare." Mulder nodded. "What I didn't remember exactly, until now, was that once they shift to the adult form, like La-Kay did that time, then they have other abilities." "Like healing." "Like healing, yeah. And they can shapeshift." "Shapeshift?" Skinner stopped his massage of Mulder's neck and lifted his own cup, sipping. "Really shapeshift? Like you read about in stories?" "Yeah. Jeremiah Smith. Remember him?" "Guy that witnessed that shooting, what? Six, seven years ago?" "Among other things, yes. He was one. I wanted him to heal my mom, after her stroke." Mulder rolled his shoulders again, then rose and began to pace. "But they got to him first." "But your mom recovered." Mulder snorted, then gave a bitter laugh. "She had help. Not from Smith, who I think was one of the good guys. But from this bastard that's been helping our friend the Cancer Man." He paused, leaned against the wall and watched Skinner. "Shapeshifters?" Skinner rose and began to pace as well, then looked over at Mulder leaning heavily against the wall. "Go sit down before you fall down." He stepped to the younger man and reached out to offer his arm for support, then studied the tired eyes. "We can do this another time. The drug is taking effect, isn't it?" Mulder nodded. "Yeah, but I don't want to quit yet. It's all right there, the whole thing. When I was hurt, they were here. I heard them talking. It's all coming back. I can remember." "Heard who talking?" Skinner was leading Mulder to the bedroom now, holding him up as the sedative seeped more fully through his system and his walk became unsteady. "I'm not sure. I don't know if it was them, the Wa-teri-kem adults, the aliens, or some of Cancer Man's compatriots who are working with them, but someone was here." They reached the door to the bedroom, and Mulder paused, leaning heavily into Skinner. "I don't think I would have survived if they hadn't been here." "They healed you?" Skinner pulled the covers back with one hand, then helped his friend get settled in the bed. Mulder reached up and touched the scar the was hidden beneath his hairline. "I don't think so. Not fully, anyway. But someone was here, someone kept me alive." He looked up, caught Skinner's eye, then looked away quickly. "Stay?" he mumbled, never making eye contact again. Skinner nodded and sat on the bed, leaning up against the wall. "And you heard talking?" Mulder rolled to his side, back to the older man, and punched the pillow loosely. "One group has been living among us for some time, blending in. Doctors and scientists, conducting experiments, doing research. They've found a way to branch our DNA so as to enable them to create a hybrid. Sentient children for them, raised as humans, fitting in, blending, and then, when they reach their adulthood, they -- I don't know what you call it -- molt, I guess. Shed the human skin and become what they really are." "And what are they?" Mulder rolled back over, lifted large eyes and stared up at his friend. "Little gray men." ****************************************** The next few days passed with very little to worry about at all. Both men fell into something of a routine, helping out with the settling in of the first group and talking with the Wa-teri-kem. Their friends had returned the first night after their feeding cycle, and were met by Peters, Aaron, Katherine, Skinner and Mulder. Introductions were made by the younger man, then quickly met with excitement by the twelve Wa-teri-kem who had come down to the station. In deference to the humans need for heat, and the aliens apparent unconcern, meetings were held in one wing of the station, but with barriers in place to prevent any of their guests from moving further into the buildings. Peters and Katherine took to the language rather quickly, Aaron and Hector stumbled along games, while the rest of the group stayed safely away, watching -- and with luck -- learning. Skinner learned quite a lot more during those days as well. He quickly became more fluent in the language, practicing what he knew and what he thought he knew with Mulder in their almost daily visits to the sick bay to make use of the hot tub. His friend, while still willing to converse with Kayla at times, was even more willing to leave them to their new-found friends and stay inside working on his maps. Skinner noticed, rather quickly, that while members of the original group were close by, or conversing with Skinner in any way, Mulder remained a permanent fixture at his side, saying nothing but staying close. But when members of the second group got too close, aside from those few he had a tolerance for, he'd vanish for the rest of the day. It was a distinction that actually surprised him, as did his lack of interaction with the Wa-teri-kem now that they had others to talk with. The scientists slowly grew more accustomed to their new roles as cultural representatives of the human race, and took to learning the alien communication skills with grace. Slowly, more and more learned not only the language basics, but how to conquer their instincts and meet face to face with the beings they'd quickly come to fear. The Wa-teri-kem proved very curious about people, but at the same time quite disinterested in what the humans were doing. After the first week, they visited less frequently, choosing instead to limit their contact once more of the group had a grasp of the language. When the next cycle came, Skinner spent the day reiterating the importance of the Wa-teri-kem's most basic creed. "I know we've established a dialog, and some of you feel you've made great strides in communication." Skinner sighed, looking at everyone in the main dining room. "But tonight starts their feeding cycle again. If you're not able or willing to communicate, you must stay away." He aimed his gaze at Katherine for emphasis, trying to curb her recent bout of overconfidence. "If one of them rises up from the ice with a kill in both claws, right in front of you, and screams, you're not very likely to hold out that metal and ask how his dinner is. Most of us, no matter what our intentions, would drop what we were holding and run for our lives." He afforded her one more moment, then looked around the silent room. "Believe me, you wouldn't get very far." "He's right." Dr. Houston nodded from the corner table and many heads turned toward him. The old man had gained back some small measure of respect, and had returned to his role of physician, assisting Aaron whenever needed. Much of the first group still turned to him for guidance, and Skinner was quietly grateful his advice tended to err toward caution. "I've seen it happen. Mulder warned us all, many times. These creatures don't think the way we do; they're not human." "No, they're not." Skinner felt it was time to take over the conversation and bring it to a close. "They're Wa-teri-kem. To expect any type of human reaction from them is pure folly." "Yes, thank you for the reminder, Walter." Peters stood, then waved around the room with one arm extended. "I strongly recommend you all just stay in the other wings of the station, until this cycle passes. No harm in that." Murmurs of agreement began building up around the dining hall, so Skinner took his leave. Mulder had made it through dinner in the crowded room, but toward the end, when a speech about the cycle and its dangers became imminent, he made a neat and almost imperceptible exit through a side door. Skinner was still surprised that Mulder, with most of his memories back, was still so uncomfortable around other people. It was something they would have to talk about at some point. Skinner found his friend curled up on one of the couches back in their quarters. "Hey, Mulder. I was thinking, since everyone's settled again, the groups are immersed in their research and study, we should start planning our own little expedition out of here right after this cycle." The look on his agent's face spoke volumes. "Yes!" He practically sprang from the couch and ran to the desk just outside his bedroom door. When he dashed back, he held several disks and a small stack of papers. "I thought we could maybe go back toward the Trouble mountains, then in toward the pole. Amundsen-Scott." Mulder flopped back down on the couch next to Skinner, sitting sideways so he could present the disks. With a flip of his wrist, he began to turn the pages. "Navigation can be hairy because of the magnetic fluctuations, but we can try. It's gonna be risky no matter where we go. If we get turned around in one of the snow storms, we could end up circling till we starve. But I can't see just sitting here any longer." Skinner eyed the maps, taking note of the estimates marked very precisely along the bottom edge of the printout. He couldn't have laid out a better course himself. "That's as good a direction as any. Let me see these." While Mulder watched with the hopeful expression of a student presenting an all-important exam to his teacher, Skinner viewed the details of each map his friend had compiled. Out of the five he'd made, taking into consideration what they had already seen, the terrain of the continent they were on, wind patterns and the almost constant snow, there was no doubt in Skinner's mind that Mulder had picked the best option for getting them out of Nihility Station and into a place with working communication. "These are really well put together, Mulder. I'm impressed." Skinner flipped the last map over and set it with the others on the coffee table. "Really?" Mulder's eyebrows creased, more in doubt than humble query. "So, we could leave next week?" "Tell you what," Skinner stood and started for the bathroom so he could get cleaned up. "Print another set of maps and load these into the laptop, then copy Peters on our trip details, and we can leave after the last day of the next cycle." Mulder's exclamation of acceptance could be heard over the running water in the sink. That night Skinner heard no nightmares from his agent's room while he went over the maps again. Impressed was a mild word. Mulder's hand-annotated maps were crystal clear, cleaning up blurred and shadowed areas from the aerial surveys. Every inch of their proposed trip was marked off with times, battery expenditures, recharge times, the works. He'd even worked out storage considerations for the food and gear they would need to bring, as well as what tools they would require for maintaining the 'cat. Included in the planned items for their trip was one of the small, shielded habitats as well. Where or how he'd learned such accuracy, Skinner wasn't sure. It wasn't a trait the Mulder he'd known before had demonstrated very often. That Mulder was more inclined to lose cell phones and guns, wreck cars, sink boats, and generally have a field day with reports and expenditure justifications. Perhaps it was something the long months of isolation had forced into him. Being alone meant being totally dependent on knowing your supplies and resources at all times, and keeping track of the need for replenishment. Skinner blinked, tired eyes blurring from long use, and read the list again. The habitat was still there, not some figment of his imagination. Well, what do you know? Of course, bringing one and using one were two different things. Mulder still had nightmares on occasion, and spent very little time with the Wa-teri-kem when they visited. Skinner wondered aloud at that one evening, but his friend's reply was a simple shrug. "Now that they know I'm alive, everything is better. Time is different for them. If I don't see them for three months, they hardly notice." And indeed, they didn't seem overly concerned about anything. They would get curious, then bored, then curious again. Some nights they had something to say, other nights they were interested in learning or teaching, but more often than not they wouldn't visit anyone, leaving their human friends bewildered at their lack of interest. When the manifest blurred again, Skinner shut off his bedroom light and slid down under the covers, happy to call it a night. ********************** Iced 15/15 The week passed quickly, with Mulder fully occupied preparing the maps and 'cat, and Skinner working out some details with Peters and the two teams set for another sample-taking expedition of their own. He was glad to hear they were heading in the opposite direction, even though they were planning on covering far less ground. Skinner found himself quite excited by the prospect of exploration. And he was looking forward to getting away from the crowds again as much as Mulder was. Peters approved Mulder's plans wholeheartedly, and Tom marveled at his ability to pack their 'cat with such perfection. "He'd be damn handy to have on long explorations, I'd say." Tom slapped Skinner on the back as they finished inspecting Mulder's handiwork. "Better than any quartermaster I've worked with." Skinner had to catch his breath after the good-natured slam sent most of the air exploding from his lungs. He was glad the mechanic had learned early on never to try that move with Mulder. While he enjoyed the privilege of being the only other person the younger man would spend time with away from Skinner, he would probably never achieve the status that allowed for physical contact. It was something else Skinner wanted to know more about, wanted to understand. In addition to his discomfort with the second group, what had been done to his agent that had created such a discomfort with physical contact? Mulder had never been like that before. If anything, he had been a very tactile person. And apparently still was. He thought back to the times the man had sought him out for the reassurance of a touch or the security of being close. "Well, I've got to finish stuffing those trackers before I turn in. Those things' feeding time is over after tonight, thank goodness." Skinner nodded, then looked around for his friend. "Hey, Mulder. How about a quick trip to the hot tub?" Mulder grinned widely as he came out of the 'cat. "Gonna try and get your fill for a while?" "Damn straight." He draped an arm over the other man's shoulders and started walking back to the basement to retrieve towels and a snack. "I don't suppose you found any signs of outdoor hot springs along our route?" "No, but the climate is warmer along the coastline, may even get up above zero if we reach the sea." Skinner sighed deeply. "Ah, well. I suppose I'll have to just do without." He gathered two towels and the map showing their route while Mulder stuffed a snack and some other items into a duffle, then they headed over to the medical unit and their private spa. Skinner wasted no time in shedding clothes, and slid under the steaming surface in his usual spot, exhaling slowly as the bubbling water lapped up against his neck. "Oh, this is the life." Mulder laughed, then splashed into the water and found the ledge he preferred as a seat. "I like this. You've rubbed off on me. Chocolate and hot tubs -- the decadent life of an FBI agent." "Hmm." Skinner leaned back and rested his head on the padded side of the tub. "That's us -- decadent to a fault." He allowed both arms to float freely and secured his toes around the small drain in the bottom of the tub. "You've changed, you know, Mulder? You're not the man you were before, and I don't mean chocolate and hot tubs, either." "I suppose so. I hadn't really thought about it. What do you see different?" Skinner opened one eye and looked at Mulder. He had a hundred smart remarks, all ready made, but somehow he wasn't sure any of them was the right thing to say. His feelings, and memories, about his agent came from a time when there was very little of intimacy between them. Did he have the right to say anything at all? But he'd brought it up now, and Mulder had asked. He studied the other man again. No sign of fear or concern, just honest curiosity. "It's hard to explain, I think." He sat up slightly so he could look at his friend without straining his neck. "Why are you so uncomfortable around people? And it surprises me that you tolerate the members of the first group better than the second. They were the ones who abandoned you, but you don't run when they come around like you do with so many of Peters' people. And why won't you let anyone touch you, or even get near to you? Besides me, I mean. What happened to you, Mulder? I mean, besides the fight with Morgan and the head injury, aside from being left alone here -- there had to be something that happened. You're quieter, more subdued than you used to be. Less aggressive." Skinner paused, watching the other man take in his words. Something flittered across his face, some nameless emotion that was there and gone too fast for Skinner to identify, and then all that was left was a creased brow and a frown as Mulder struggled for words. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean." Mulder nodded, idly swirling a finger around on the surface of the water. "I remember what I was like -- always ready to go to war for the cause." He shrugged. "I don't know what happened. It all started because my dad got mixed up in something far bigger than he was. He sold my sister and then his soul, but I'm not sure I can do anything about it anymore." He looked up and met Skinner's gaze. "When I was hurt, they were here. They did -- things -- to me." He shrugged again, unwilling to go farther. "I don't think I was supposed to remember, but I do." He shuddered violently, almost uncontrollably, and Skinner watched as ripples rolled across the bubbling tub and careened off the sides. "I want to find my sister. I want to see Scully. I want my life back." He paused, his eyes taking on that pretears look Skinner had come to know. "But I don't think I can go through any of this again. I'm not strong enough. The well is dry." Skinner laughed shortly. "Neither can I." He reached across the tub, grabbing the other man in an awkward hug. "But, Mulder -- I'm not sorry I had the chance to know you like this, to be here for you. I told you before, I never was much for friends, but I value what we have. I'm glad that something good could come from all you've been through." The younger man nodded, damp hair and wet skin sliding against Skinner's broad chest. "I haven't given up on everything else, either, Sir." His arms reached out, catching the older man in his own embrace for a long moment, then he let go and cleared his throat awkwardly. Skinner took the cue and eased away, settling on his seat again. "I think I know a way to put an end -- or at least postpone -- the alien's colonization plans. Put them off the planet, put Cancer Man out of business for the rest of his life." He looked tired, eyes ringed red and shoulders drooping, and Skinner wandered if he'd been wrong to assume that the lack of nightmares had meant untroubled sleep. Maybe the lack of nightmares had meant *no* sleep. It wouldn't be the first time his agent exhausted himself while working on a case. "I just don't know if I can pull it off by myself." "You don't have to do anything by yourself, Mulder. You're not alone anymore." Mulder silently watched him for a long moment, then slid back so he could rest his head on the ledge and gaze up at the uniformly white panels of the sick bay ceiling. "In the end, all you have is yourself." "No." Skinner leaned back as well, closing his eyes. "In the end, all you have are your friends." They spent a long time silently soaking, then took turns cooling off in the shower and had a snack of dried fruits and bottled water, all that was left in their basement's galley stores. After eating, Skinner slid back into the hot tub, desperate to get his fill of the luxury before they left it behind again. Mulder had already reached his limit, so he donned his clothes and sat on the floor, behind Skinner, and went over the details of the journey again, quoting every mile mark, and proving to his friend that he could pack and unpack their 'cat blindfolded. "Do you think we'll make it out to other people?" Mulder set the map down and put both hands on Skinner's neck. He started massaging as he spoke. "Out to another station?" Skinner close his eyes, relishing the unexpected pampering. "I'm sure we will eventually. And even if we don't, the sun will rise and someone will come for us. We can't be cut off down here forever." "I have my own thoughts on that." "How so?" "I don't think the interference is all natural. We wouldn't have had people down here in these research stations all these years if there was no way to communicate during the dark months. I think someone, the Cancer man and his cabal, or the aliens, has done something to keep this area remote, untouched, and unreachable." "It's possible, Mulder. And we may find out eventually, but for now it's a reality we have to deal with." The massaging continued and Skinner felt himself becoming drowsy. The heat, the massage, and the prospect of leaving their crowded neighborhood to embark on a journey back to the real world all combined into a warm, settled feeling that was hard to fight. When the massaging suddenly stopped, he finally managed to open his eyes again. What he saw startled him. A small, gray, vaguely man-shaped being stood silently, staring at them. "You didn't tell me we had company." Skinner turned and got out of the water as casually as he could manage. Mulder was still seated on the floor, clutching the pack he'd brought. "It's okay." Mulder swallowed hard, opening the pack with shaking hands. Before Skinner could inquire, he pulled out the two metal statues, juggling both in one hand. He handed one to Skinner. "I wanted to tell them we were leaving. I just didn't know they were coming here." After he pulled his shirt on, Skinner accepted the sculpture from nervous hands. Mulder's fear was still quite evident on his face and in his voice, but he was obviously trying hard to overcome it. Maybe they'd be able to use that habitat after all? "Good idea." He'd just palmed the statue when a massive black shape appeared from out of nowhere, standing a mere three feet from them both and staring at them with large, round eyes. Mulder very nearly jumped into the tub, but recovered instantly, pressing closer to Skinner as he held out his hand. "Kayla." Slowly, and with incredible grace for a creature its size, Kayla approached, one hand extended. It touched Mulder's statue, then looked at Skinner and reached out to touch his. "Best ID card I've ever been issued." Skinner spoke softly, even though he knew nothing he could do would ever startle the Wa-teri-kem. "What?" "Never mind." He held out the silver in his hand and searched memory for the most recent language lesson. "Ad - torem." Kayla showed teeth in a mirror of human smiles, and accepted the offer to use Skinner's statue for speaking. Since he had just spoken to it, he hoped it wouldn't mistake him for dinner. "That will not be necessary." All eyes turned to stare at the startling silver man, so quiet they had almost forgotten his presence. As they watched, Kayla knelt, then lay prostrate before the being. He reached down with one hand and touched the large black creature gently. "My sister, you would say. She will be as I in due time, but for now," he sighed softly, "I miss her." "Why did you come back?" Skinner watched as Mulder pulled himself to his feet, looking down on the smaller being. "I thought you didn't have anything to do with the 'kids' once you made the change?" There was anger and hostility in Mulder's voice, and Skinner found himself wondering if Mulder had changed all that much after all. "We are leaving." The voice was soft and curiously accented. Almost British, with undertones of something even more exotic. "Our portion of the program is being discontinued. The -- you would say 'faction' -- that I belong to has decided to leave this world and let you develop in isolation a bit longer. Our experiments have not been successful." "Why did you come back?" Good old Mulder -- one track mind. "For the children, of course." "Your children? Or ours?" "They are all our children." As Skinner watched, the creature *shifted,* skin becoming fluid and rearranging itself, and within seconds, a neatly dressed man stood before them. He was about six feet tall, with silver hair and blue eyes, and nattily attired in dress pants and shirt, with a Harris tweed blazer. There was absolutely nothing about him that would indicate he was not what he appeared to be, a scholarly English professor. Mulder swallowed hard again, then held his hand out while Kayla rose and squatted on her muscled haunches facing him. "Go sorna me eso pautik?" Patterns of green and gold flashed across the statue, faster than Skinner could follow. Kayla purred a response in a flash of quick orange and brown. "Whoa, I didn't catch that." Skinner blinked at the speed of the patterns. "I asked if he was telling the truth. She said he was." There was a sound at the door, and a line of children trailed in. Human children, in human clothing, with human expressions on their faces. The older ones carried the smallest. They looked around in confusion, but showed no fear of the unknown man or the creature of nightmare that stood before them. The oldest child, a boy of about eleven, stepped forward, the baby he carried holding him tightly. "We are here." There were nods of agreement from some of the other older children. A few of the younger ones were beginning to look concerned, but there was no crying, no tears, just steady confusion. The man nodded and walked through the group of children, touching each one gently and all signs of concern and confusion disappeared. "Do you have to do this?" Mulder was pacing now, and he had taken a baby, about two years old, from one of the younger ones who had been struggling to carry the little girl. She had strawberry blonde hair, and looked amazingly like the pictures Skinner had seen of Scully's Emily. "They're part human, too." "They would not survive without our continued influence." There was a rustling sound, and the room filled with Wa-teri-kem, each huge and black and standing in silent formation along the walls. "So much for the security of the station," Skinner muttered, reaching out to lift a small child himself. The older boy walked over to one of the Wa-teri, and as they watched, his skin began to melt, falling away as what there was of him dissolved into a puddle on the floor and was absorbed into the creature he had approached. "You can't do this!" Mulder lunged forward, but was met with a wall of black bodies, stopping him gently and holding him back. "They feel no pain." The words were soft, the accent giving the voice an aura of aristocracy. "It is our way!" "But they are part human!" "And we are willing to accept that humanity into our racial makeup." The English professor's eyebrow raised slightly, and a corner of his lip quirked. "Unlike you humans, who would have nothing to do with another species." Around them, the children were slowing disappearing, and the massive bodies of the Wa-teri-kem were vanishing as well. Skinner craned his head to see where they went, how they had come so easily and left so silently into this supposedly secure facility, but he could see nothing. Soon, there were only two left, the children he and Mulder held. "Not this one," Mulder begged. "This one is my -- friend's. Let this one stay." One of the Wa-teri -- he thought it was Kayla -- had reached him and was gently removing the child from his arms. The English professor, as Skinner was thinking of the silver man now, was doing the same thing with the child in Mulder's arms. "I will take this one myself." Mulder was shaking his head violently, even as he was letting the child go. Tears streamed down his cheeks and his nose ran even as great gulping sobs escaped his throat. "You did this to her, and now you won't even let the child live!" "It was not I that did this, my friend." The child Skinner had held was gone now, as were all the black creatures but Kayla. He moved over to Mulder, putting an arm around the younger man's waist and drawing him back a few steps. "I don't think there is another option, Mulder. He seems sincere in wanting to do what's right." Tortured eyes turned and met his. "But what about Scully?" "She doesn't need to watch another child suffer and die. It this baby won't live, perhaps this is the best way." "It is a great honor for an adult to take one of the unformed ones to himself. It does not happen often." Another sob escaped Mulder and he leaned heavily into Skinner's side. He stared at the professor, then managed a strangled, "Thank you," before closing his eyes completely. Skinner shifted as the man's weight suddenly hung heavy in his arms and he slipped down to his knees, still holding Mulder tightly. As he watched, the facade of the English professor disappeared, and there was a bright light, growing brighter and more intense until he had to look away. Then the light vanished and he looked back, finding only an empty space where the being and child had stood. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, then he shifted again, settling Mulder on the floor against him, checking the man's pulse and breathing. The sobbing had stopped, there were no more tears, but his friend's breathing was still ragged and he still shivered uncontrollably. Propping the younger man against the wall, he rose and found a blanket and tucked it in around him. "How will I tell Scully?" The words were forced out, broken and hoarse. "We'll find the right words, and we'll tell her together." There was a sound and Skinner looked up. Kayla was still there. Patterns flashed across the sculpture and Skinner nudged Mulder, forcing him to look up. "She said she knows we're leaving and wants to know if we will be together." He turned back to Kayla, lifting his own statue. "Evaya majano hoy." Again her reply was far too rapid for Skinner to catch more than one word. "Ship?" He glanced at Mulder. Even in the harsh lighting of the sick bay, he could see his friend's face had grown pale. "What is it?" "La nolo ba?" He directed his voice toward Skinner. "She asked if we were leaving on the new ship. I asked her what ship?" Kayla pointed over her shoulder, up toward the ceiling. Skinner stood suddenly. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up. He raced to the computer console out in the clinic, fiddling with dials until he got the command center. A quick conversation with the duty comm tech, and Skinner was sweating. "Come on." Skinner turned to retrieve his pack and nearly jumped out of his own skin at the rapid departure of their friend. She was simply there one minute and gone the next. "The station's being hailed." Mulder seemed frozen in place, then shook himself free and slid his statue into the bag, hefting it over one shoulder. "I don't understand." "Neither do I." Skinner led the way out into the hallway, then broke into an easy run, making sure Mulder was able to stay at his side. "It can't be a rescue plane. They wouldn't come for us this time of year. It's too dangerous." "If the aliens are really leaving, who knows what the Cancer Man and his friends would do." As they approached the command center, it was clear no one else was aware of the approaching vessel. Skinner glanced at Mulder and his friend nodded his silent understanding. He slowed their pace to a calm walk and entered the communications nexus, grateful for the easy way his friend could pick up on his intentions. When they rounded the corner into the communications room, an excited technician nearly barreled into them. "We're being hailed!" The short, somewhat portly man stared up at Skinner, wide-eyed. "A plane! We're being hailed!" "Calm down." Skinner grabbed the man's arms, more to keep from being smacked in the face for a third time with the sheet of paper. "It's just a standard pre-landing communication, not World War III. Go find Peters. Calmly!" He shooed the willing man in the proper direction, then motioned for Mulder to follow him into the comm room. The radar monitors showed the standard circle sweep of a green arm on black background, a steady blip the only interruption on the screen. Speakers to either side of the unit sparked to life. "Research station, this is Flight Delta Zulu Four Niner Two. Anybody home?" Skinner quickly adjusted the controls and the speakers blasted static. "I know you're down there. Research station, I repeat, this is Flight Delta Zulu Four Niner Two. I've come a long way out here just to say hello." The voice was familiar! Frustrated with the staticky connection, Skinner gave the console a slap. Instantly the sound cleared up and a well-known voice spoke once more. "Research Station, please respond." Skinner looked incredulously over his shoulder at Mulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Scully? Is that you? You have no idea how long we've been waiting for you to come." Mulder stared at Skinner, still not sure how to process this latest information. He didn't have much time, the plane would be landing any minute now on the stretch of glacier ice before the station. It seemed everyone had gathered, anxiously waiting its arrival. Everyone but him. He knew he should feel excited, pleased, relieved that his isolation, his ordeal, was drawing to a close. He should be eager to return to his life in the world, to dive back into his career, to resume his search with the new knowledge his trial in the Antarctic had gleaned for him. And mostly, he should be quivering with anticipation to see his partner again, the one person who was closer to him than anyone in the world. She'd certainly proven her devotion to him with her unfailing vigil during his absence, her refusal to accept that he was gone, her determination to find him, bring him back, take him home. Hell, she'd even managed to find someone who would fly her down here so she could retrieve him herself, when Skinner hadn't returned. Who knew what anguish she'd gone through with their radio blackout, no word from anyone of what had happened, no clue as to why the rescue mission didn't return as she thought was planned. But somehow, those weren't the emotions that Scully's imminent arrival was stirring up. Instead, he was full of adrenaline, pumped up with fight or flight instincts, and right now, flight was about to win. Damn! The perfect setup had been a few short hours away. He and Skinner would have been well on their way, speeding over the ice, heading for the coast and possibly points beyond. The 'cat was packed, all the planning done. They had just needed to wait out one last night, then he could have left this crowded complex and all of its attendant baggage and gotten away. Just him and Skinner. Spend some quality time getting to know his friend better, getting to know his surroundings better. Even getting to know himself better. But now, in the blink of an eye, instead of taking off away from the crowd he was standing among them, keeping Skinner between him and everyone else who'd come to see the landing. He wanted to believe it was them making him uncomfortable. Or a combination of this crowd and the unexpected arrival of Scully's plane. But something was telling him that wasn't it. "Mulder, I need to explain to you about Scully." Skinner was fidgeting awkwardly, seemingly uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other on the windswept snow. "While you were gone -- when we weren't sure where you were, or if you were ever coming back -- Scully and I, er, that is, well ..." Mulder studied the older man. He was trying to think of a time when he had ever seen the man this dispossessed. Nothing came to him. Nothing from before, and certainly nothing since he'd been here at the Pole. Whatever he was trying to choke out, must be pretty important. He watched, one eyebrow raised in question, as Skinner first clasped his hands behind his back, then shoved them deep into his parka's pockets. "Yes, well, I'm not doing this very well, am I? All I wanted to say was, uhm, well ..." He suddenly stopped his awkward movement and fixed Mulder with a steady look. "You know how our relationship has changed since I got here? Things are very different between us than they ever were before." Mulder nodded. What the hell was Skinner trying to say? "Well, a lot of times that happens because of the situation people find themselves in. You understand, right?" Again, Mulder shook his head, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, but glad that his acquiescence seemed to erase some of the concern from his friend's stance. "Well, Scully and I were in a fairly intense situation as well." He waved one had around at the moonlit stretch of empty snow and ice. "Nothing as severe as this, or anything close to what you went through, but we were both feeling pretty isolated as well." He took one glove off, scratched his nose and pushed the glasses more securely up their perch, then quickly shoved his hand back into the glove's warmth. "We, uhm, Scully and I, that is, well, we became a good bit closer as well, while you were gone, that is." "You and Scully?" Mulder was having a hard time getting his mind around the concept. "Well, yes." Skinner's voice sounded irritated, or perhaps is was irritation trying to disguise his continued discomfort over the whole topic of discussion. "We didn't know where you were, what had happened, if you were ever coming back." He turned suddenly, stepping a few feet away. "Hell, we didn't even know if you were alive or not." His voice dropped. "And we didn't have anyone we could go to to try and find out. No one to talk to, no one to confide in. No one to even kick around theories with." He turned back to face Mulder, a naked plea for understanding on his face. "It was only natural that we would reach out to one another, you can understand that, can't you?" "Reach out?" What was Skinner trying to tell him? Why was this suddenly so important to the big man? "Scully and I, our relationship changed, Mulder. That's all I'm trying to tell you. Things changed on a lot of levels. Scully and I became ..." "Look, there it is!" Someone shouted from behind the first line of spectators and all eyes searched the star-lit sky, finally seeing the same glint of light that moved too steadily to be a heavenly body. Mulder was still watching Skinner, and saw the unmistakable curve of a smile forming as he turned to stare up at the craft approaching. He didn't want to look up at the plane coming down for a landing a few yards away. He didn't want things to shift and change again. Skinner said it must have taken an act of God for Scully to get a plane and make the flight down here in the dark mid-winter. But he didn't care about dark, or storms, or planes, or acts of God. He cared about Scully, but in an odd, dream-like way, as if she wasn't quite real to him anymore. And he didn't think he was ready for more reality at this point. At this point, all he wanted to do was tug on Skinner's sleeve and pull him back to the vehicle bay where their 'cat waited. But he couldn't. This plane was coming to get them, and Skinner was all too obviously happy to see it. He hadn't had time to process this latest bit of information from Skinner. Things had changed. Scully and Skinner? What did he mean -- they were closer? What exactly had the older man been trying to tell him? The plane landed quickly, with a modicum of snow dust billowing up underneath its landing gear. Mulder glanced at the ship and judged it to be a fairly old model, certainly older than the plane that had brought Skinner and his group. Older and smaller. And more poorly cared for. There were dents along one side, and some black marks on the underbelly. When the snow settled, Peters stepped up alongside Skinner. "I can't believe this. How the hell did your agent get someone to fly down here at this time of year? She must be one incredibly determined woman." "You have no idea, Peters. You think I've been difficult at times? You should be counting your lucky stars you didn't have Agent Scully to contend with. I'm downright agreeable compared to her when she sets her mind on something." Skinner glanced at Mulder, grinning, then nodded toward the opening door. "Let's go see our savior, shall we?" Mulder glanced at the ramp lowering down and said nothing as he fell into step slightly behind Skinner. The rest of the crowd waited a distance from the plane as its engines powered down, while the three of them advanced to the bottom of the ramp. As soon as the door opened above, the opening was filled with the site of a small woman, bundled in an enormous, over-sized parka, wisps of auburn hair peeking out from beneath the hood. "Walter!" The woman's voice carried above the sound of the engines settling and the murmur of those who had come to watch. She was walking down the ramp now, toward Skinner, while behind her another person tentatively disembarked. "Dana!" Skinner reached out and enveloped the small woman in a hug. "How the hell did you manage this?" "Hello!" Mulder could hear the laughter that bubbled up from the woman, could see her arms tighten around his friend. "You have no idea what it took to arrange this." She turned her head, finding Mulder, and gently disentangled herself from Skinner's embrace. "Mulder," she said more softly as she took a step in his direction. Mulder found himself unconsciously stepping back as Scully approached. She lifted a hand in his direction, but Mulder quickly moved aside just enough to make the same sort of embrace she'd given Skinner too much of a stretch. His gaze shot up to Skinner in time to catch the odd sort of nod and half-twitch of one eye that was delivered to the woman. Wordlessly, but with disappointment evident on her face, she dropped her hand and said, "It's good to see you, Mulder." Mulder let himself relax, nodding once. "Scully." He swallowed deeply, then added, "Thanks for coming." "It wasn't easy." Scully replied. "It wasn't cheap, either." She looked up at Skinner, a twinkle in her eye. "Don't worry, Sir, I didn't have to totally abuse your power of attorney to break the bank. Just bend it a little." "How long till we can leave?" "If George," she turned and pointed to the man standing by the plane's engine, "can refuel and do a quick systems check, we can turn around and head out in a few hours." "Don't let him run the engines out here alone." Mulder's voice was quiet. "They won't understand." "No, you're right, Mulder. I'll get Tom to come out and work with him. He's picked up a bit of the language." Skinner began walking toward the complex and Scully fell in step beside him. "Things are better, but this is still not the safest place." "Right,those creatures you told me about?" Scully nodded. "I feel dreadfully out of the loop." She cast a quick look at Mulder. "You two will need to bring me up to date." Mulder followed, staying on the opposite side of Skinner from his partner, feeling ashamed for doing so but unable to stop himself. This whole experience had a surreal quality to it, almost as if it wasn't happening. He had been alone for so long, alone with not even memories for company. And then there was Walter, and then, in memory, there was Scully. And now, here she was, in the flesh. A real person. His partner. His friend. His ... He stopped, unable to continue the thought. The memory of his feelings was there, like a phantom pain in a missing limb, but it seemed out of reach. He shook his head vigorously, hoping he could shake off some of the melancholy that was threatening to overtake him. "Are you OK, Mulder?" There was a small hand on his arm, and a concerned face looking up at him. He could feel the panic settle over him, but Skinner stepped up, neatly separating Scully from his arm with another one of those looks and he managed to start breathing again. "Fine, thanks," he mumbled. He spent the next several hours in Skinner's shadow, grateful for both his boss' and his partner's apparent understanding of his raging emotions and still unsettled feelings. He kept himself at a distance from them both, even to the point of resisting several attempts on his friends' part to bring him into the conversation. Twice he had to reprimand himself for his thoughts. Mulder breathed a sigh of relief when a tour of the medical facility hadn't engendered discussion of their penchant for using the hot tub. And a brief visit to their basement home was restricted to the outer rooms only. He felt guilty about that thought, knowing this was Scully, his friend and Skinner's, and maybe something more. But still, he was glad something of his life here at Nihility had remained private. Lunch was in the complex dining room with a packed and highly excited crowd. Every instinct Mulder had screamed at him to get the hell out of there, but the idea of leaving Skinner and Scully alone to talk old times and new information wasn't acceptable. So he managed a seat next to his friend at the end of a table with a wall against his other side. Skinner looked at him curiously, expecting his usual departure. When Mulder settled himself into the seat, Skinner let his own chair slide close enough for actual physical contact, while Scully tried hard to maintain some personal space in the crowded room. "It's incredible, Walter." Scully waved a fork at them from the opposite side of the table, glancing at Mulder to include him in the conversation. "We knew, didn't we, Mulder, that something was going on. But actual sentient life, here ..." She shook her head in amazement. "I find it all hard to believe." "I find it hard to believe you're here at all, Dana. That's what's incredible." "Well, once Frohicke and Langley managed to decode your location from that last transmission you sent, what? Three months ago? Then it was just a matter of tracking down someone foolish enough to fly down here this time of year. I've been looking for weeks now." "How'd you manage it?" Mulder shifted slightly so he could lean against the wall and have a better view of his friends while the two spoke. "It wasn't cheap. That's what I meant about your power of attorney. I exhausted my own funds; had to dip into yours." Skinner's reply was a knowing nod before taking a drink. "That's what it was there for. You know that." Skinner stabbed at a piece of meat, twirling the fork lightly. "How did you find this guy -- George, is it?" "George Frauschuti. I'd been looking for weeks and suddenly, out of the blue, he appears at my door. Said he heard I was looking for someone brave enough, or foolish enough to risk the South Pole in dead, dark winter. Said he'd do it, if the money was right." She shrugged slightly, taking a sip of water. "I made sure the money was right." "Small plane." Skinner had finished eating but was still pushing peas around his plate, not looking up as he spoke. "He won't take anyone but you, me, and Mulder." She cut her eyes toward her partner, still lounged against the dining room wall. "That's part of the deal. Is that going to be a problem?" Skinner dropped the fork he'd been playing with and removed his glasses, thumb and forefinger reaching up to squeeze the bridge of his nose in a familiar gesture. "No, I don't think so." He replaced his lenses, then stared at Mulder for a moment. "But I do need to go talk to Peters. He's been pretty patient, giving us some time to ourselves." He rose, and as he stood, Mulder could almost see another personality layering itself over the man he'd come to know so well. When he spoke, it was with an authority, a sense of command that Mulder remembered quite clearly, but hadn't heard directed at himself in quite some time. "Agent Mulder, please take Agent Scully to our quarters. You can finish briefing her on the situation here while you gather whatever you want to take on the flight out." He was scrambling to his feet, the "Yes, Sir," out of his mouth before he was consciously aware of it, and he heard it echoed in a quieter alto from across the table. He was aware, not for the first time in the past few days, of a sense of growing loss, a feeling that he was losing something vital, that it was slipping away before his eyes and he was helpless to stop it. "I'm going to talk to Peters and our pilot and make sure the arrangements for our departure proceed smoothly. I'll be down to get you both within the hour." He stood unmoving for a long moment, watching the broad back of the man he now called friend as it receded from his view. When he couldn't see Skinner anymore, he continued to stand there, staring across the room, until he felt that tingly sensation at the base of his neck that told him he was being subjected to the same intense scrutiny he'd just given Skinner. He turned slowly to find Scully waiting patiently for him, her eyes studying him with a look that was half appraisal, half relief. "So," she said quietly, "here we are." He swallowed hard. "Yeah." He dropped his gaze to study the left over meat and vegetables on the plates, one hand reaching out to gather the dishes before he stopped himself. "Should we go downstairs now?" Her voice was soft, carrying across the table to him, but not to anyone else in the room. How had she learned to pitch it like that? He was grateful for her discretion. "I suppose." He felt about fourteen, as if he were about to take his first girlfriend into his bedroom, and he knew the feelings were ridiculous. This was Scully, his partner, his friend, and there was nothing like that between them. Yeah, right. So why was he so uncomfortable? Why did he feel so awkward? She began moving and he had no choice but to follow. She still wouldn't know her way to the basement, and he did need to get things together, like Skinner had said. Especially if they were leaving so soon. His mind felt cloudy, as if there were too many thoughts and not enough space, with every stray thought clamoring for attention and him not able to focus on anything. He needed to finish telling her about the Wa-teri-kem, and how the adult had said they would be leaving. He wished he could show her the skins -- that was her area anyway. And he wanted her to see one, to talk to one, skeptic that she was. He wanted her to *know* they were real. And he wanted to tell her about Walter. About how things were different now. And how things had changed. How *he* had changed. But he didn't know how to begin. He took a deep breath, suddenly aware of the subtle scent of her perfume, something he'd missed during his long absence without even knowing he had missed it. It made him feel light-headed, and he had to remind himself that this was *Scully,* his partner and his friend. And now, apparently, Skinner's *friend* as well. It took him a moment to realize she was speaking to him, to recognize his name. "Mulder? Did you hear a word I said?" He had to swallow a laugh. *That* at least sounded like the Scully he remembered. Irritation and concern, it was a mix he knew well. "Sorry, Scully. My mind was wandering." "Well, at least that hasn't changed." He laughed, and was surprised at how easy it felt. And when he looked over at his partner -- his partner! -- she was smiling at him as well. Easy. Comfortable. Relaxed. The way it used to be. He smiled back, then quickly turned away as emotions threatened to overwhelm him again. The way it used to be. For so long he hadn't remembered the way it used to be, and then he had begun to wonder if it would ever be that way again. They had reached the basement stairs now, and he opened the door, nodding for Scully to precede him. He closed it behind himself, locking it out of sheer habit. "Do you want something to drink?" He headed for the galley, gesturing for her to sit on the couch. But when he turned to take the glasses back out, he nearly tripped over her, spilling tea all over himself and her and the floor. She jumped back, embarrassed. "Oh, Mulder, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." She reached out as if to brush the beads of liquid from his shirt. He had taken several involuntary steps backwards as well. "No, Scully, it's all right. Are you too wet?" She shook her head, brushing absently at her own shirt, but keeping her distance. He grabbed a towel and wiped up, then handed her the glass, walking her to the couch in their common area. "I'll be right back." He nodded down at his own wet shirt. "Let me grab a clean shirt." When he came back she was standing at the work table, looking down at the maps he had prepared. She looked up, one eye cocked in question. "We, uhm, Walter and I, were going to take one of the Snowcats and head out tomorrow. Try and find our way to another station or something. Just get away from here for a while." He traced the map gently, one long finger following the route he had so labored over. "I just need to get away from here. Walter understands." He dropped his hand and turned away. "Walter understood," he said quietly. "Things really changed between you and Walter, didn't they, Mulder?" She was sitting on the couch now, the glass in her hand. As he watched, she took a small sip. He nodded. "We got -- close. I didn't remember anything, anyone, and he was willing to be my friend." "I'm glad, Mulder. I'm so glad he was here for you, able to help you through this time." She put the glass down and rose, pacing to the other side of the room, then turning slowly to face him. "He helped me, too, Mulder. When you were gone, when you disappeared ..." Her voice broke and she turned from him, her arms coming up to wrap around herself in a common gesture of self-comfort, and suddenly she wasn't a dream any more, or a memory. She was Scully, his Scully, and she was here. He was moving across the room, ready to take her in his arms and tell her how much he missed her, how glad he was that she was here, when she spoke again. "We got close, too, Mulder. Walter and I. Things changed between us as well." Her words cut through him like a knife, piercing his soul, and he stopped in his tracks. "He was there for me, Mulder, he never abandoned me." She thought he abandoned her? Did she really think he would ever have left willingly? He was frozen, unable to move, to think, to see, to feel. Her words were still washing over him, but he wasn't able to process it anymore. If there had been any doubt before, it was clear to him now. Scully and Skinner were lovers. "I didn't have anyone to turn to and he was beside me every step of the way. He pulled in every favor he could, took risks I couldn't imagine, went to anyone and everyone he thought could help, but nothing did any good." Her arms were still wrapped tight about herself but she had turned back to face him. "You understand, don't you Mulder. He was my friend, my confidante. He was the only one I could talk to." The pleading was naked on her face, tears hovered in her eyes. "You do understand, don't you, Mulder?" He nodded woodenly, still unable to take the words in. Behind him, he heard the basement door open and shut, and Skinner called a greeting. "I'm tired," he mumbled. "I need to go lay down." He turned to head for the bedroom and stumbled, but Skinner was there to catch him. The older man steadied him on his feet, then lifted a hand to lay it gently across his forehead. "You're warm, Mulder. Are you OK?" "Just tired. A lot has happened. I need to rest." He pulled away and made for the bedroom, a funny, half-choked cry escaping his throat when he realized he'd gone into Skinner's room. He made his way into his own room, and into his own bed, and gave himself up to oblivion. ****************************************** When he woke up, several hours had passed, but the pounding in his head had eased, and he didn't feel as if the world had fallen completely apart anymore. Somehow, he'd misunderstood. Neither Scully nor Skinner had said more than that they were friends, that their relationship had changed, that they were closer. He climbed from the bed and headed out to the living room to talk to both his friends, to try and straighten out the mess in his head. But he reached the doorway and froze again, watching as Scully said something and moved into Skinner, her arms wrapping around him. As Skinner leaned down, his arms coming around Scully to enfold her in his embrace, her lips reaching up toward him, something inside Mulder snapped. He felt it almost physically, deep inside his head. Before he could rationalize his motivations, or even care, he was through the room and gone, flying up the stairs and down the hall, out into the snow before he knew which direction he'd taken. The snowy incline was right ahead, the place he'd spent so many hours contemplating its steep drop off, and wondering what would happen if he were to launch himself over its edge. The place he'd never been able to finish the task he set himself when he went there. He was shivering now, teeth chattering, and he didn't know which was more childish -- his unprecedented flight or racing across Antarctic ice without winter gear. His chest ached and tears froze to his lashes and cheeks as he pushed himself up the slippery ice, racing for the summit. The stars shone down on him, twinkling in delight at his improvident flight through the dark, bitter cold. He didn't care. The stars could all go to hell. So could the station, the people there, the Wa-teri-kem, the whole damn world. Everyone could just go to hell and leave him alone! He was used to that. Even Skinner was going to leave him now, settling into some sort of domestic bliss with Scully. Anger surged in a red rush to his face, spurring him higher up the incline. How could this happen? Mere hours away from escaping the crowds, the entire world crashed down again. Why did he even bother making plans? What right did he have to assume life would reach some kind of normal stage, anyway? And what was Walter going to do? He had every right to pack up and leave, return to the world, to normality, start a life with Scully. Where did he fit in any of this? Did he even have anything worth going back for? "Dammit!" Mulder tripped, slamming down through snow, into ice, stopping his forward motion. He stared at the snow, trying to force thoughts of betrayal into the forefront of his mind. If he could focus on them, and be angry with the notion of his world crashing down again, then those nagging accusations further back in his thoughts could be silenced. The thoughts that were telling him how childish he'd just acted. The ones telling him what a fool he was being. Those thoughts had to go, but they refused. After a few minutes of snow-staring, Mulder's heartbeat returned to a normal, if not slightly slowed, level. He was suddenly aware of the cold again, feeling it rush in about him, sapping his energy. He pushed himself up on rubbery arms, then pulled himself back to sit on legs that weren't ready to support him yet. He shivered uncontrollably, closing his eyes, the icy cold draining the flush of heat he'd gained from his impromptu exercise. Kneeling there, eyes closed, snow covering every inch of his body, everything Walter had ever said scolded his consciousness. All those times he'd probed his friend's motives and resolve, and every time he stood by his decisions and desire to be right where he was. Walter had proven his friendship and loyalty a hundred times over, as had Scully, and if he, if she, if they had managed to find some happiness together, who was he to stand in their way? He shuddered again, feeling legs and arms begin to go numb. In any event, it didn't matter now. He was probably going to freeze to death before he had a chance to apologize for his behavior. "What an idiot." "I wouldn't go that far." Mulder jumped several inches. He hadn't heard Skinner approaching. "What's up, Mulder?" The older man stepped over and reached down, pulling his friend up out of the snow. One hand held his parka, and he began to shove Mulder's arms into it. "You okay?" "C-c-c-old, but I'll be fine." Mulder swayed, feeling Skinner's strong arm supporting him, even as the AD did up the zipper on the parka and pulled the hood forward over his head. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Just a little crowded back there, you know?" He wasn't going to buy that. Skinner inhaled slowly, looking up at the stars. "I know a lot has happened in the past few hours. It's hard to take everything in all at once." He looked back down at Mulder. "Changes can be a little hard to get used to, but sometimes they are for the better." The words brought another flush of anger to Mulder's cheeks. "So, what are you and Scully planning to do now?" "What?" The irrational thoughts that spurred Mulder out into the snow were trying to resurface. He pushed away from the arm holding him and took several steps forward, then turned and glared back at Skinner, ready to accuse him of things he'd only imagined his friend doing. "You can leave now. That's what she really came out here for, to bring you back. She's just here to remind you how great it was and get you to go with her, back there. Back where you have a life, a purpose, something, no, *someone* waiting for you. Back where you know people and they know you." He was being stupid. The little voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to shut up, but he couldn't hear it over his own frustrated shouting. Unwilling to stop and get a grip, Mulder added angry hand gestures and a bit of pacing to his tirade. "This is all just a little too convenient, don't you think? Just when we were ready to leave, Scully pops in with a plane when no one in the world can make contact or get a pilot to come down here, and suddenly, it's time to go. You can leave now, leave me here alone again! It doesn't matter! She didn't come for me -- she came for *you!*" Skinner hadn't said a word, hadn't even tried to interrupt. He stood quietly, watching the younger man pacing and shouting and gesturing. And now, adding to his younger friend's confusion, he was beginning to laugh. "You're jealous." The word stopped Mulder's outburst in its tracks. He stood facing Skinner, eyebrows knitting together, trying to comprehend what had just been said. "What?" Skinner laughed again and shook his head, then smiled. "You're jealous." Unbelievable! Of all the ... Mulder opened his mouth to retaliate, but no words would form. Jealous? He tried again, still nothing. Finally he gave up and spun around, angrily waving his arms. "This is ridiculous." But something wouldn't let him storm away. Instead, he stepped to a large mound of frozen snow and sat, shaking his head. After a moment, Skinner joined him on the icy seat. For a few minutes, neither man said a word. Mulder wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, or what he was supposed to think. He couldn't really think much at all, his head was spinning. "I'm flattered, Mulder, really. But there's nothing to be jealous of." Mulder laughed shortly, then pushed off the seat and took a step forward. When he was opposite Skinner, he turned around and squatted, one gloved hand tracing circles in the snow. "Flattered? I just made a fool of myself in front of you and Scully." "She's suspected you were crazy for years, and after living with you all this time, I *know* you're crazy." Mulder's gaze shot up, horrified, until he saw the slow smile grinning back at him. Skinner leaned forward and rested his elbows on both knees. "Listen, Mulder, I know this must be a little strange for you. And Scully told me what she said to you." He smiled ruefully. "Apparently, she wasn't much better at explaining things than I was. Mulder, Scully and I share a history now. We're friends. It's different than what it used to be, but not what you were thinking." Mulder sighed and picked at the snow, flicking it back and forth as Skinner spoke. "Mulder." Skinner paused, watching Mulder in the faint moonlight. "We're friends. She came for you. You were what united us to begin with. You are what is important to both of us. You have to know we would never leave you here." His face hardened and something dark crossed his features. "Never!" "But you could. It might be safer for you both." Mulder tossed a loosely packed snowball and stared up at Skinner. "Yes, I could. But I wouldn't even consider leaving without taking you with me. It isn't a question of what I can and can't do. It isn't even a question of safety or security." Skinner shook his head. "Haven't you heard a thing I've said over these past months? I came here with a purpose, to find you. I came because Scully couldn't. Even after all that time, you were the only thing she thought about. Maybe, if things were different ... Maybe then, Scully and I ... " He shrugged. "Sure, I've considered what I would do if the opportunity ever presented itself. But it never did. For either of us. It was always you, Mulder." Mulder felt his face flush slightly. He felt like an idiot, assuming Skinner would abandon everything he'd promised. He wasn't that kind of person, and thinking that was an insult. "I just ... You were about to ... I mean --" "She was thanking me. A kiss on the cheek." Skinner smiled again. "You got jealous, didn't you?" Mulder rolled his eyes, unwilling to admit he wasn't at all sure. "Trust me, Mulder." Skinner stood, then held out a hand to help his friend get to his feet. "You have nothing to worry about." "So we're really going to leave? Go back to the world?" Skinner turned Mulder around, then wrapped an arm over his shoulders and started them both down the ice back toward the station. "Yes, but not now. I'm beat." Mulder acquiesced and walked back to the building. George was out by the plane with Peters, discussing something with Tom who waved to them as they passed. They passed through the halls quickly, then down the stairs and into the basement. Scully was pacing, and she looked up expectantly as they came down the stairs. A hesitant smile crossed her lips, and she took two steps forward before stopping. "Everything OK?" He smiled back gently. "Yeah, but I'm exhausted. I really need to go back to bed." Skinner looked at him sharply. "You're sure?" "Yeah, we can all talk in the morning. I just can't take any more tonight." "Do you want some tea?" Skinner was still concerned and Mulder knew he was thinking of the sedative. "No, I'll be all right." He felt like a child, but Skinner's question was appreciated. Once inside the bedroom, Skinner's again, he headed straight for the shower, letting the pounding hot water beat out the evening's confusion. Jealousy. So that's what it felt like, then? He didn't think he'd ever known that feeling before. It was about as alien as the idea of the Wa-teri-kem inhabiting the South Pole. Mulder ended his shower and went to his room to try and rest. He pulled on some clean shorts, and sat on the bed. "What am I going to do?" Mulder sat staring at the intercom system on the back of his bed. Skinner had installed it to make him feel secure. To be sure he was never alone. Not for what he was considering. He forced himself off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. "It's not right." He grabbed a towel for his face and walked back to the room, staring at the intercom. "Wouldn't you like to hear what they're saying?" Mulder rubbed his head. It was pounding again. The voice that had been silent for so long was back, and it wasn't pleasant. He tossed the towel to the floor and got into bed. He was really too exhausted for this. But almost of its own accord, his hand drifted up and turned the intercomm on. The speaker seemed to suffer a short burst of static, then instantly two voices could be heard, as clearly as if they were in the room. Scully and Skinner. "It wasn't easy. You don't go through something he went through and come out without a different view of things. Of course it's changed him." "I'm amazed he survived as intact as he did. How the hell could they do this to him?" There was a pause, during which he could imagine Skinner's shrug. "So, you're telling me he invented this language, the only way to communicate with these beings?" Mulder sat up, willing himself to turn the speaker off, but he was paralyzed. And some small part of him suddenly wanted to listen to this conversation. "He didn't so much invent it as discover it." Skinner's voice was clear over the speaker, as if he was actually sitting right next to a microphone. "God, he's bright, Scully. I'd read about it in his file, but it's incredible what he can pick up and how fast. I almost wish I could have had him with me in Viet Nam. If that wish didn't mean he'd have gone to war, too." "Can he still handle himself?" "He's not the same man. He's not as quick to blow up, doesn't seek out confrontation anymore." Skinner's reply sounded curt. "More patient. A lot less secure. He had horrible nightmares when I first got here. Still has them occasionally. Haunted. I thought Nam was bad. But he's been through just about the same here." The AD sighed heavily. "No, he's different. He's still smart, resourceful, but now he has a very unique view of life." Mulder's face flushed with some guilt, listening in like this. Slowly, he lowered himself back down on the pillow and allowed himself to take it all in, telling himself he was just going to fall asleep and no longer listen. "You two are pretty close now. Bonded. Something that can't be broken. I can feel it in my bones." There was a pause, so quiet, Mulder wondered if the intercomm had turned itself off. "He's the brother I always wanted. The son I'll never have. The best friend I can ever hope for." Mulder's eyes shot open. "Enough." His hand shot out and turned the speaker off. These were things Mulder wanted to know, but, somehow, he didn't want to hear them. It was all too much. He had every intention of mulling things over while slowly drifting off to sleep, but no sooner had he closed his eyes than he heard Skinner in the shower. Light was streaming in through the crack in the door, declaring a new day. "Good morning." When he entered the bathroom, Skinner was just out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. "Hey. I hope I didn't wake you coming in late last night." "No, you didn't." He yawned, waving a hand in apology. "I don't think anything could have." "Yeah, that was quite a day yesterday." "Where's Scully?" Mulder felt pretty certain Scully hadn't slept on the couch. "I got her a room upstairs. She's coming down for breakfast and then we're outta here." Skinner gave Mulder's shoulder a pat as he walked through the door and into his bedroom. "There are a few people here who wanted to horn in on our ride, but Peters is insisting everyone honor their contracts." "Some of his group?" Mulder hadn't even considered any of them might want to leave. "Not too many, I don't think. Most of them did come out here on purpose, after all. Just like I did. I think the ones wanting to go back are from your group." Mulder turned on the sink and stared blankly at the running water. "Are we really going to go?" Skinner stepped back into the doorway, buttoning his shirt. "Absolutely, yes." Mulder nodded, still looking at the water. He looked up into the mirror at his friend's reflection. "What's going to happen when we get back?" "You get your life back. But you call the shots. You move as fast or as slow as you're comfortable with." Skinner walked into the bathroom and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, gazing at Mulder. "I'm going to leave it up to you. Have you given it much thought?" Mulder shrugged, then splashed his face with cold water. "A little," he lied. "Listen." Skinner leaned forward. "You. Are. Not. Alone. Not now, not ever. You have Scully, and, Mulder, you always have me." Another wave of cold water was needed, then Mulder found a towel and turned to face his friend. "I just feel so -- out of touch -- with everything." He dried his face, then rubbed the towel between his hands slowly, trying to think of every option that needed to be considered. "I don't know if I have a place out there anymore. What would I do now? My questions are answered, my suspicions confirmed. I don't know how to do anything else." Skinner shrugged. "You don't have to do anything. Or you could do whatever you want. You have time, Mulder. The Bureau has continued your salary -- you have money. I'd say your abduction and isolation was certainly job related, so you'll be entitled to as much time as you need to get your bearings. I can get some time for Scully as well. And I can take some time, too." "You'd really do that?" Mulder tossed the towel aside. "What're friends for?" *************************************** They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Skinner ducked out to admit Scully. When Mulder joined them, they were both in the galley, pulling together a meal. "How are you this morning, Mulder?" Scully paused in front of their small refrigerator, looking up at him. She held eggs in one hand and cheese in the other. "Don't you have any milk?" she asked Skinner as she looked through their supplies. "Only powdered. But it's OK to cook with." Skinner was in the other cabinet, pulling out a bowl and a frying pan. "I'm OK," Mulder said, taking the box of powdered milk down and holding it out to his partner. "I slept good last night. I feel better." She reached out to take the box, but he held on to it. "Look, Scully." His head swiveled to include Skinner. "Walter. I'm sorry I acted like such an ass yesterday." Scully looked at Skinner briefly, catching the slight nod he gave, then took two steps forward, coming very close to Mulder. "It's understandable, Mulder. Don't worry about it." She released her hold on the box of milk powder, and reached out slowly, watching her partner for any signs of discomfort. When he didn't flinch, didn't move away, she let her hand reach up and gently cup his cheek. "I'm so glad to see you, Mulder," she whispered softly. "You have no idea how much I missed you." He dropped the box on the counter and wrapped his arms around her fiercely, burying his face in her hair. "Ah, Scully ..." He took a deep breath, and tightened his hold. "Scully, I missed you even when I didn't remember you. I'm so glad you're here." "We never gave up on you, you know. Walter and I. We never stopped looking." "I know." The words were murmured into her hair, his hands moved slowly over her back. "I'm so sorry it took so long to find you." Her voice broke, and she paused a moment, her face buried in his chest. "I'm so sorry for what they did to you." He stroked her back again, shaking his head slowly. " 's OK, Scully. Not that I want to do it again, but, I learned a lot. It wasn't all bad." She sniffed slightly, squeezing him hard, and he gently disentangled himself, stepping back a half step, then lifting her chin so she met his eyes. "I'm really OK, Scully. I'm still me. Some things may be a little different, but down deep, I'm still me." She studied him intensely, then nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips. "Still you, eh?" He waited a second, then leered at her. "Want to check me out yourself? All of me?" "Mulder, you'd faint if I said yes." She grinned up at him. "But, yeah, I'd say you're still you. Cocky, arrogant, smarter than everyone else. And a tease." "Don't forget difficult, stubborn, headstrong, show off know-it-all, and a royal pain in the ass." Skinner laughed as he dropped the pan onto the stove with a loud 'clang.' "I'm beginning to feel picked on here," Mulder muttered, moving to start the coffee. "Only because we love you." The words were spoken simultaneously, a deep baritone and a softer alto voicing the same sentiment in tandem. There was a long pause, each of them looking at the others, then Mulder turned back to the coffee, breaking the moment with movement and running water. "When do we leave?" "In a few hours." Scully was breaking eggs now, adding milk and cheese. "You still need to pack." "There's nothing here I want." "Not even your statue?" Skinner turned from the stove to look at the tall man standing slouched by the sink. "I'm taking mine." Mulder shrugged. "They're leaving the planet. It won't do you any good to have it." "I just want it. To remember. To have something that makes it all real. Surely you can understand that, Mulder?" Mulder nodded, swallowing hard. "Oh, yeah. That I understand completely." They ate together quietly, talking of the times they had missed in each others' lives. Mulder told Scully about his time alone, and how Skinner had accepted him as he was, the man he had become in isolation and with no memory. And Skinner talked of the Wa-teri-kem, and the incredible language Mulder had discovered, how amazing it was to communicate with another sentient life form. And Scully talked to Mulder about the time he was gone, how she and Skinner had searched, the questions they had asked, the walls they had faced trying to find him. And she told of her final, frantic hunt for a pilot foolish enough to fly south at this time of year. "It was really odd, the way he just appeared." She took the last plate to Skinner to be washed, then leaned against a cabinet. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to wait until the sun rose again, but then, there he was, ready to go." Mulder and Skinner exchanged a glance. "How much do you know about this guy, Scully?" "The usual. I had the boys run a background on him for me. He checked out. Seems to be who he says he is. Former army pilot, flew in the Gulf War. Has his own plane and does charter work now -- strictly hit or miss. His credit stinks, but other than that, he seems legit." She pursed her lips in concern. "Why? Do you think there's a problem?" "I think it's pretty strange that this guy shows up out of nowhere, willing to take on what might well have been a suicide mission, when no one else on the planet would even consider it." Skinner handed the last wet dish to Mulder, then turned, drying his hands on a towel. "But I'm not going to look at the thing too closely now. I just want off this piece of godforsaken ice, and back to the real world." He lifted a pant leg slightly, and Mulder realized for the first time, the AD was wearing his ankle holster and gun. "And I intend to make sure he takes us where we want to go." He dropped the pant leg, the material falling easily back down to cover his armament. "I need to go see Peters one more time." He crossed to Mulder's side, one hand reaching out to gently touch the other man's arm. "Can you pack for us both? I know you said you didn't want anything, but you might want to reconsider." Mulder nodded as he finished drying the last of the breakfast things. One slight reach and the final plate was put away. "I don't know why we bothered to clean up. We're leaving." "Someone else may want to move down here. The rest of these people signed on for a year. It's just courtesy not to leave a mess." Skinner smiled. "Not that you would understand," he teased. "Courtesy or cleanliness?" Scully interjected in an amused tone. "Either." Skinner and Scully burst out laughing. "I am really feeling picked on here, folks," Mulder grumbled. "And don't tell me you love me again; I don't think I believe you." His smile belied his words, and he was tempted to pinch himself to make sure this was real. Being here, alive, well, intact, and the two most important people in the world were with him. Who would ever have thought such things were meant for Fox Mulder? "I'll be back shortly. You two get things ready and we should be able to take off when I return." Skinner gave a casual wave as he headed up the stairs. The emotions were washing over Mulder again, and he forced himself to turn away, clenching his fists for control. He felt Scully's hand touch his shoulder, gentle, soft, almost hesitant, and he was grateful for the reminder of her presence. "You OK, Mulder?" "It all just gets to be too much sometimes, Scully, you know?" He forced himself to relax beneath her touch, then when her hand slid down his arm and tugged, he turned to face her. "I was alone for so long. The emotions were -- overwhelming. Rage and fury, isolation and abandonment, fear and humiliation. And through it all, this constant, never-ending, never-easing, bone-deep, piercing *ache* of loneliness." Her hands were around his waist, her body pressed against his. Small but strong fingers stroked his back and arms, and she was murmuring wordlessly into his chest. Soft sounds of understanding and comfort, evoking feelings of peace and security. Feelings that only Walter had evoked since he had been here. The thought of Walter made him start guiltily, and Scully pulled back enough to look up at him. "What is it?" "I -- When we get back -- how am I, that is, I need --" He broke off feeling like an inarticulate idiot. "You need your friends." She was pulling him to the couch, forcing him to sit gently, her hands on his shoulders as she pressed him into the cushions. He nodded wordlessly. "You're worried about how we'll all fit together now, aren't you? You and me and Walter?" He nodded again, then picked up a small cushion and began to pick at a loose thread. "Before, it was just you and me. For all those years, just you and me." "And that was OK, wasn't it, Mulder?" "Oh, yeah. It was more than I'd ever expected. I'd been on my own for so long, meeting you, having you with me, willing to fight the same battles, to hang in there through it all ..." He shook his head in wonder. "It was more than I ever deserved." He hung his head, focused on the string, twisting it around one long finger. "Then, I was here, alone, for so long. I couldn't remember anything, anyone. And Walter came. He was, well, he was everything. He didn't push, didn't force me to do anything I wasn't ready to. Wouldn't let anyone else force me either. He called me his partner, his friend. I felt safe for the first time in a long time." "He cared for you." Her hand came out and pushed the hair back from his face in a gesture reminiscent of the many times Skinner had done the same thing. "I didn't know who he was. I didn't remember him. I didn't remember you! It was like a giant void where memories should be." He shuddered and she reached down, pulling him against her. "It was terrifying." The words were whispered against her abdomen, one hand rubbed his back while the other caressed his hair. "Then Walter came, and it was like light in the darkness. The fear began to subside. Things began to make sense. I began to hope I might have a normal life after all." "Walter was good for you. He was here and he was real, and you needed that." "And then I remembered you, but you didn't seem real. It felt distant, surreal, like an echo of a memory, not something real." He let one hand come up and encircle her waist, holding her in place. "But I am real, Mulder. I'm here, and I'm real, and I care about you. Walter and I, we both care about you. We're going to make sure you don't ever have to be alone again." "How, Scully? How do we make that work? You and me and him?" "Oh, Mulder! Is that what's worrying you? How we'll share you? How you'll share us?" He nodded again, suddenly unsure and feeling a bit foolish over his concerns. "Don't worry about that. We'll make it work. There are things we can all do. Museums, movies, dinners out. Things you and he can do. Pardon me if I'm sexist here, but I won't mind if you and Walter do the ball games and camping trips. And there are things he and I may want to do. As I recall, the symphony was never your favorite leisure time activity." She could feel the face he made against her belly, but he remained where he was and she continued to pet him. "And Mulder," she reached under his chin, lifting gently until he looked up at her, "there are things we can do that you wouldn't want to share with Walter." He lifted an eyebrow quizzically as she leaned down closer, her face drawing nearer to his own, her lips coming to graze his own in the lightest of touches. "I love you, Fox Mulder, and I'm not going to risk losing you again before I let you know." The second kiss was longer, harder, and he was a much more active participant that time. ************************************************ When Skinner returned, the bags were packed and they were ready to go. He grabbed his and took one last look around. "It wasn't a bad place to call home, was it, Mulder?" "You made it bearable." Skinner flushed at the compliment, then headed up the stairs. Peters, Aaron, and several others were waiting near the station's main doors. While Skinner said his goodbyes, Mulder neatly avoided them all, ducking out quickly and heading out to the open area before the building. He had his own goodbyes to make, and even as he caught sight of Kayla swarming up from the ground as if appearing out of nowhere, he knew his goodbyes would be temporary. With the little statue in his hand, he made his explanations. "We're leaving this place, returning to our home." Mulder spoke the words that had become so familiar to his mouth he hardly gave them thought. "You and him?" Kayla spoke at her normal speed, knowing Mulder could now keep up well. "Yes. We are leaving in the plane that came for us. Together. With my other friend." "The female? She is not your friend." "Yes, yes she is. She is my good friend. She came for me." Kayla made a dismissive gesture. "She is your mate. Even we can see that. But it is good that you will be together. All three of you. You are stronger that way. Never be alone again. It is not good to be alone." "Will I see you again?" Kayla seemed to sigh gently, then shook her head. "The old ones are calling us away. This is your home, not ours. But perhaps, someday, we will return to see you, your friend, your mate, and your young ones. We will talk again then." With that, she set down her statue and embraced Mulder warmly. He returned the gesture as best as he could, wrapping his arms around the massive body. After a quick look deep into his eyes, she purred and began to dissolve before his eyes, vanishing quickly in the dark ice. "Until then." Mulder stuffed the statue into a pocket, deciding as an afterthought to take it anyway. "Hey, Mulder, you ready to go?" Skinner stood in the doorway to the station, smiling as Mulder approached. "I spoke with Kayla." "Good." "That was one of them?" Scully was still staring at the spot where the young Wa-teri had disappeared. "I wish I could have spoken to her." Skinner was leading them to the plane where the engines were already warming up. He stepped aside so Mulder and Scully could enter first, then shut the door behind them all. "What did she say?" "She said goodbye." He pulled the statue from his pocket and shoved it into his duffel bag. "She says they're leaving. All of them. The old ones decided." He was seated now, one head leaned against the cabin window as he stared out over the ice. "I don't think they felt humans were very welcoming." Skinner nodded. "I think she's right." "I've never imagined them as -- well, like that. All fierce and murderous, but loving and caring too." Mulder set the duffel down and ran a hand through his hair, contemplating the Wa-teri's words. The plane was moving now, lifting off, and over the roar of the engines he could hear a terrible, earth-shattering crack as ice shifted suddenly and began to move. Scully and Skinner were staring out their windows as well, eyes glued to the ground beneath them. They were climbing, climbing, and beneath them, a long jagged chasm raced across the ice, from the mountains in the distance to the station. People on the ice, the ones who had come to watch the plane take off, were racing away in blind panic, their mouths open in silent screams. The plane was still climbing, rising higher and higher, and beneath them the station began to collapse. As they watched, the abyss opened up and swallowed it all, the people, the buildings, the vehicles, even the other plane vanished in a roiling cloud of ice and snow. "No!" Mulder was on his feet, racing for the door, but Skinner had risen first and caught him, holding him tight. Scully came up behind them wrapping her arms around him from the back. "It's all gone! Everything! I had it all, and now there's nothing. No proof, no evidence, no way to show anyone what happened here." There was another loud noise, a sonic boom, that rolled over the plane, the accompanying wind shaking the old craft until the very struts themselves rattled. Through the pilot's windshield, they could see the distant mountains detach from the earth, rising skyward into the moon's light. The peaks flattened themselves and the snow disappeared until all that was left was an enormous craft, hovering gently over the canyon-sized crack in the glacial ice, before it shimmered briefly, then shot upward and vanished into the atmosphere. Beneath them, the earth was settling. At Skinner's command, the pilot circled back, flying low over the area where the station had been. But it was completely gone. Vanished as if it had never existed. The snow was already settling back into place, hiding the jagged crack that marred the centuries old ice. "Gone ..." Mulder slumped in Skinner's arm, moving without resistance as the AD and Scully maneuvered him back to his seat. "He's cold," she said, on hand on his forehead. "Shock. I'll get a blanket." Skinner nodding, wrapping his parka around Mulder even as he fumbled for a thermos at his feet. When Scully returned with the blanket, tucking it in around her partner, Skinner opened the container and poured a cup of something hot. "Here." He thrust the cup out, holding it to Mulder's lips. "Drink." "What is it?" Scully asked. "A sedative. He needs it right now." She nodded softly as Mulder took a swallow, then made a noise. "What's that?" "Home." He coughed, drew the blanket closer around him, and took another swallow. "I won't last long. You made this strong." He closed his eyes and took one more sip. "How'd you know?" "I was worried something would happen." "Be prepared, eh?" "Always." Scully had tucked herself into the seat next to Mulder, and Skinner knelt in the small aisle. "They went home. We have nothing. No way will anyone believe what we saw." "Doesn't matter, Mulder. We know. We know what to look for. We can be vigilant. We know the questions to ask now." He nodded. "Home. I wonder if I still have a home." "Mulder, home isn't where you're born, or raised, or even where you currently live. Home is where you find comfort, peace, security. Where you belong. It's where you return to after you've been away." Mulder looked up and held Skinner's gaze for a long moment, searching the dark, clear eyes. Eyes that could seem so stern behind the glasses and then so warm and understanding in the next second. They were so clear, so honest. He turned and looked into Scully's deep blue eyes. Eyes filled with love, and trust, and faith, and a thousand other emotions he couldn't begin to name. He wondered what his own eyes revealed. "Then here, here." He pointed to the two people closest to his heart. "Here, I've come home." ********************** The End of it ALL!!!! Thank you for staying with me through this long, long journey.