TITLE: The Fragility of Ice AUTHOR: Sandra Winarta DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as the story is intact along with my name and disclaimer. CLASSIFICATION: S, X, R (of the M&S variety). RATING: PG-13 (for sexual references). SPOILERS: Up to (but not including) Christmas Carol. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully are called investigate a mysterious death in the Wyoming wilderness. DISCLAIMER: I don't own FM or DS, nor do I claim to. CC and 1013 Productions do. They can afford to be sued while I can't. Also, I quoted the following poem (the intellectual property of Robert Frost) without permission. THE FRAGILITY OF ICE by Sandra Winarta Some say the world will in end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. - Robert Frost. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* =I= Saturday morning. You know, the time of the week when normal people stay in bed until eleven, mow the lawn, do the shopping. And what happens to Dana Katherine Scully? The phone rings. "Scully, it's me." The call of Spookdom comes. I've learned to hate that voice over the past five years. Especially when it wakes me up on my one and only day of rest. Anyway, who ever said I was normal? "Mulder," I sighed, "what's happened?" "Pack your bags, Scully. We're going to Wyoming." "Mulder, we can't be going to Wyoming. It's only five days till Christmas. Besides, Wyoming is even colder than the North Pole at this time of year." "You've always wanted an extra white Christmas, didn't you, Scully? Fresh, clean snow..." "And a frozen butt." "I hope not. I like yours just the way it is." he chuckled. Mulder is the king of double entendres. He jokes to relieve the tension and to blunt the pain. Only sometimes I don't think he's joking. Sometimes, I'd find him staring at me. Really stare, as if he's trying hard to get under my skin. I could feel his eyes laser into mine, daring me to blink first. It's so unnerving, sensual. I start to wonder how it would feel to have him under my skin... Fortunately, this time he was on the other side of the phone line, and we have another case to solve. "So, Sherlock, when is the plane leaving?" I asked. He umm'd and ah'd for a while before he let the bomb slip. "TWELVE O'CLOCK???" I screamed. God, first the guy destroys my one and only Saturday to shop and do the dry-cleaning, forget about the extra hour's beauty sleep here. Then he expected me to be packed and ready to go at a drop of a hat. "Half an hour? Mulder, even _you_ can't pack and be here in that time." "I'm all ready packed. And traffic's not so bad at this time of the morning." he chuckled. "'Cause the rest of Washington's not insane and still in bed. I tell you, Mulder. It's impossible." "Alright, forty-five minutes then." "Slave driver. You're lucky I'm not on your side of the phone line, Spooky." I taunted. Mulder couldn't hold back the laughter now. The chuckle had turned into a roar as I hung up the phone. Only when we were safely belted up in the plane did he hand me the file. Mulder picked up the case late Friday night when I was safely home in bed. He is the only person I know who voluntarily works late on Fridays. Actually, he works late every day. Why he insists on keeping an apartment baffles me because he hardly spends any time there. Having no knowledge of a case puts me at a slight disadvantage when it comes to justifying Mulder's theories. Unlike Mulder, I didn't have an eidetic memory. I needed to read over a file several times for it to sink in. This time, I couldn't think clearly enough to do more than just scan the file. Mom's voice still filled in my head. She was worried I wouldn't make it home for Christmas again. I hadn't been home for Christmas once since the year Ahab passed away. Mulder didn't seem to care too much about not being with his family on Christmas Day -- or at any other time of the year for that matter; but for me it was a sign that I was losing touch with life. Was family so unimportant to me? "Okay, picture this." he started, forcing my mind to return to the case. "A male body was found in the middle of the Wyoming woods. From his dental records, the body happened to be a one David Johns, a twenty-five year old pharmacist from Lander. His wife had reported him missing a week ago when he didn't come home after work. By chance, a cross-country skier found him, or what was left of him." "Doesn't sound like an X-File to me, Mulder. From what you've described so far, this is something that the local authorities could have handled." "Ah, but here's where things get interesting." As usual, it's the 'interesting' part that got me hooked. "According to the autopsy, the victim had been dead for three days, judging from remained." "Remained? What do you mean?" "Well, there was nothing left of the body except bone. And before you think it was some fat-sucking mutant or the Jersey Devil has migrated to Wyoming, what they found on the body was definitely inorganic." Inorganic? I chewed on that bit of information for awhile. Could be some industrial-strength acid. No, any acid that could burn away _all_ the flesh on the body should also be strong enough to decintegrate the bone structure, too. I studied the photos again. Nope, the bones were definitely there. And clean, as if they had been polished. What on earth could do that? Unless it's not something of earthly origin. How spooky. I was even starting to think like Mulder. I must have zoned out while thinking, because the next thing I knew was Mulder shaking me by the shoulder. "Scully, wake up." "Huh?" I managed to mumble intelligibly. "Wake up. We're almost in Casper." "Oh." I glanced at my watch and realised that I'd slept for three hours straight. That kind of sleep was unheard of for me on a plane. I hated flying. I hated it most during take-offs and turbulence, when I couldn't control the lurch of my insides. Funny, I didn't get any other kinds of motion sickness. I'm fine on the road. Have to be, considering the number of miles we cover in the field. Being a Navy brat, I'm at home on the water, while poor Mulder chucks within fifteen minutes of stepping foot on to a boat. "Hey, Scully. You okay?" Mulder's voice intruded. He gave me that lost-puppy look again. My stomach did a back flip, which had nothing to do with air turbulence. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." "You can zone out on me after we've rented the car. Got a 150 mile drive ahead of us, anyway." "I'll pick up the keys." It's an unwritten agreement between us that the person who collects the keys is the person who drives. "Uh-uh." he objected. "Mulder, I told you I'm fine. I _like_ driving. Besides, 150 miles is a long way on icy roads." "I'm not getting into another one of those arguments while I'm still recovering from the last one." My mind flicks to that hideous motel room in Comity. Mulder. Detective White. No, I _don't_ want to go there. "Tell you what, Scully. You get second shift, okay?" I smouldered for a second, but decided I was way too tired to argue. We had been in the field almost non-stop since I came back to work two months ago. I was beat. I hoped that the bucket seats in the Taurus are comfortable. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Driving long distances sucked. Driving long distances on icy roads sucked even more. Especially when the temperature outside was so cold even the heating in the car couldn't keep out the chill. I hate the cold. Then again, heated situations aren't any better. Four letters. F-I-R-E. They terrify me. I haven't had much success around them in the past, starting from when I hauled Andy's little brother out of a house fire when I was fourteen. At least that's not likely to happen out here. Take that back. It wouldn't surprise me if the snow ignited. The things you can do with pyro-kinesis these days. Not that pyro-kinesis had anything to do with how this victim died. It gave Scully something interesting to play with, though. One day, I'd like to conduct a little autopsy myself -- on Scully's stomach to see if it's really made of solid titanium. My jaw still drops in amazement every time I see her get excited at the prospect of digging into another body. When I see a dead body, all I want to do is puke. I guess that's why I'm a psychologist and not a pathologist. I had the more exciting task of interviewing witnesses. There was the park ranger from the Sinks Canyon State Park, the skier who found the body. Oh, and the grizzly bears who may have witnessed the body being dumped. Gee, I forgot. Bears hibernate in mid-winter. At least someone has the right idea. Scully seems to have the right idea, too. She was still fast asleep, her head resting against the seatbelt, mouth gaping open a fraction. Poor Scully. She was totally dead on the flight over. It took me a few shakes to wake her up. Now, I knew she's not the best flier and likes to doze on flights to pass the time, but sleeping for three hours is exceptional for her. There was something she's not telling me, I'm sure. Something... That I knew she'd try to keep to herself, if it meant letting me glimpse her vulnerability. She's so strong, my Scully. People who think old Spooky's tough have no idea. Crazy, maybe. But never strong. It's been Scully's strength that kept me going, not my own. All this time I'd been taking and taking while she'd been giving and giving. So much that she'd lost almost all her sense of normality -- friends, family, the chance to have a decent life. Not a good thing to have done when you consider that Scully is my best friend. My only friend. Do I treat my best friend as shit? Seems like it. If I had some common sense, I would listen to her more -- it would have saved me a lot of pain. Unfortunately, common sense and Fox Mulder are mutually exclusive, so I kept to a professional relationship as much as possible. Except professional is the last thing I feel for her. And she for me, apparently. That realisation came crashing down on me the moment I saw her face close to mine. Eyes diluted. Lips slightly agape. Waiting for a kiss from me. Or whom she thought was me. Eddie Van Blundht almost got there first. When I asked her what she and Eddie talked about that night, she said the subject wasn't of great importance. It was the fact that she was given the _chance_ to talk that mattered. Since then, I tried to give her lots of chances to talk, but it's hard when the main topics are conspiracies, cancer, and abductions. Doesn't make for happy conversations. Sometimes, I'd try to start, but usually didn't succeed. Being totally piss scared has something to do with it. I didn't want her to know what a jerk I am, although she probably knew that long ago -- Scully knew everything. Knowing someone well also meant that knowing exactly which buttons to push. Scully knew exactly how to push them. Hard. In her presence, I could be blissfully content one minute and ready to blow someone's head off the next. That's not good when we're in the middle of a case, in front of an audience. Still, it's all very well to be indecisive, but it's been five years and I knew that time is running out. Frankly, I'm sick of waiting. The cancer may be in remission, but for how long? She stirred in her sleep, twisting her head around to face me. Her face was more vibrant than a few months ago. The dark circles under her eyes have disappeared. She had put on some weight so that her cheeks are no longer hollow. It's hard to believe the disease had ever touched her. But it had, and I knew I was damn lucky to still have her when her cancer could have easily consumed her. Suddenly, I had to know if she was live, real. With one eye on the road, I reached out to touch her cheek, letting my finger trail lightly over her skin. She was real, all right, definitely not some kind of apparition. She stirred at my touch, letting out a soft sigh that sent the blood rushing to my groin. I imagined this was how she would sigh when we make-- Damn, Spooky. Get your head out of the gutter, will you? I stroked her cheek. Her skin was so soft. God, how I wanted her. Even chaste touches on the arm could drive me crazy. I knew I should stop before I woke her up, but at that moment, I didn't think a nuclear blast could have pulled me away. Especially when she rubbed her cheek against my hand and purred. Then she froze. I turned to see her give me one of those famous Scully death stares. That certainly made me snatch my hand away quickly enough. I've seen that stare turn grown men to goo. She tried to put some distance between us by shrinking away to the side of the car, suddenly enthralled by the frozen countryside. The silence was so chunky you can carve it. I swore the temperature in the car has gone down a couple of degrees since Scully imparted with her death stare. By the time we arrived at Lander, it was possible to see icicles hanging off my big nose. I bolted from the car as soon as I turned off the ignition. In hindsight, it was the wrong move to make. The Wyoming wind went straight through me as soon as I remembered that I didn't have my coat on. I grabbed the coat off the back seat and put it on, but it didn't help matters much. I was still fucking freezing. I wished I'd remembered to pack my thermals. I must have thrown it on my bed after I returned from the Yukon and promptly forgot to take it to the drycleaners. Considering the fiasco that happened afterwards, _and_ the fact that I hadn't cleaned my bedroom in years, I very much doubt I'd find it again. Scully didn't seem to feel the cold. She got out of the car after buttoning her coat up to the neck and walked calmly to the entrance of the sheriff's office. I tried to catch up to her, but that attempt ended pretty soon when I slipped on an ice patch and landed soundly. On my ass. She looked back at the sound of my butt thudding against the concrete, and arched her eyebrows until they formed a perfect imitation of the McDonald's logo. "Mulder... if you're trying to tell me that you've fallen for me, why didn't you just say so?" Wow. Did Scully just tell a sick joke? Looked like my lewd sense of humour rubbed off on her after all. I couldn't help but smile. "Anything for you, Scully." She walked back to me and held out her hand. "C'mon, big boy. We've got some bodies to carve." "Better you than me." I groaned. The office looked like it had last been decorated in the Fifties, complete with peeling pastel walls and cracking linoleum floor. It was six o'clock on a Saturday evening, and the place was jumping. "Looks like Lander has a nightlife after all." "Yeah," said Scully, "Consisting of four bars out on the main street." The young deputy behind the counter greeted us as soon as we entered. "Oh, great. You guys finally turned up. Boy, do we need your help. This case is getting weird." "Any new developments?" Scully asked. "Yeah, we found another body this morning. I'll get the sheriff to explain it all to you." the deputy yelled as he went out the back. The sheriff turned out to be a tall, lean man. Looked forty but he could have been anything plus-minus ten years. From his greying temples, it was probably the previous. "Hi, folks. Sorry to keep you waiting." said the man, shaking their hands with a no-nonsense grip. "I'm Sheriff Michael Barnes. You must be..." "Fox Mulder. This is my partner Dana Scully." "Pleased to meet you both. I'm very pleased that you're here, actually. Your timing is perfect. We found another body this morning." "Yes, one of your deputies told us. Has an autopsy been performed?" asked Scully. "Not as yet. Our one and only pathologist is out of town at the moment and won't be back till tomorrow." "May I examine the body?" "Be my guess. Not that there's a whole lot to see." *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Mulder burst into the autopsy bay just as I was finishing off. He looked exhausted. He had questioned the sheriff and the skier who found the body. It mustn't have gone very well. "Hey, how did it go?" I asked. "Didn't get much out of them, like I expected. The sheriff knew David Johns since he was a kid. He said Johns was a decent kind of guy, not involved in any kind of misdealings as far as anyone knew. "I also interviewed the man who found the body, Derek Smith. He was skiing his usual runs when he noticed the body a little off the track. Says that particular trail didn't get used much 'cause it goes quite deep into the park. Didn't notice anything unusual at the scene, though. Except that the body wasn't buried in the snow even though it had snowed heavily the night before." "That means the murder must've happened sometime during the day." "Yeah, but that doesn't tell us much about who or what did this. You finished?" he asked hopefully. "Yeah." I looked up to see a pathetically relieved expression appear on his face. Mulder doesn't go much for blood and gore. "Do you want to take a look?" I teased. "Uh, not tonight." he sheepishly declined. "What did you find?" "Well, the MO matches the one in the report. There was hardly any tissue on the bone, just like you said. And I managed to take a sample of this." I gave Mulder a small jar containing a gel-like substance. He took it, examined it against the light. "Looks like the abominable snowman had a bad cold." "I don't think even the abominable snowman can excrete this stuff. As far as I know, nothing on Earth can produce this stuff naturally. The pathologist found it on the first body and didn't know what to make of it." "What the hell is it?" "I'll have to send a sample back to D.C. to make sure, but I think it's some kind of synthetic protein." "Don't they use that to treat leukemia patients?" "Yes, but not in this form." Mulder paced around the room. I could almost hear the cog in his mind grind over. After a few moments he sat himself on a bench and gazed straight at me. "What if the whatever-it-is that made this is not human?" I sighed. An alien mutilation story at this time of the night was not good. "What do you think can do this kind of damage?" I asked. "A spectral entity perhaps? After all, you didn't find any evidence to suggest physical force was involved in the transformation." "The skeleton wasn't damaged, you mean? We don't know for sure, Mulder. There's not enough of anything left to tell." "Maybe something is hungry? I mean, it's the middle of the coldest winter at Lander in twenty years. Everything needs energy to survive." "Sure, but you can't prove that this is anything more mundane than a chemical accident." "I can't prove it. Yet." Thoroughly annoyed, I snapped off the latex gloves that had begun to stick to my sweaty hands. "Okay, I'm finished here. Why don't you get some coffee while I finish cleaning up?" "Right." he said absently, oblivious to my question. He remained on the bench for several moments before I grew impatient. "Mulder, coffee?" "Oh yeah." he said, finally hopping off the bench and heading for the door. "Be right back." I heard the door bang and went to scrub off, wondering where this case would lead us. =II= It was one o'clock in the morning by the time we arrived at our motel. I was completely exhausted after the autopsy and just wanted a nice, long soak in the bath. I filled the tub to the brim and stripped off my many layers of clothing. I felt like I was wearing clothes from an entire Macy's rack, one on top of the other. The water was wonderfully hot. I didn't care that its temperature may be scalding. I desperately wanted to get warm again, anyway. I hadn't felt warm since we left D.C., feeling as frozen as the landscape throughout most of the drive. Soon, the heat penetrated my pores, sweat sliding down my forehead. I could think clearly again, the first time all day. What was happening to me? To the both of us? I wasn't stupid. I saw the way Mulder looked at me in the car. Hell, the way he was _touching_ me. Not that I haven't been touched by Mulder before. We touch all right, the way two people who are friends touch each other. Personal, but not... intimate. Not erotic. His look was so intense that I thought it would burn holes through my head. The only way I could stop myself from responding was to ignore him. It's hard to ignore Mulder at the best of times. It's harder when your whole being craves him. I couldn't remember a time when I wasn't attracted to him, when I first realised that I really liked this man, and when that like turned to something more. I wanted to feel his hands on me again. And if Mulder kept giving me those glancing touches all the way through the case, I didn't know if I had the will to hold back. Things may come to a head sooner than we'd expect it to. I dressed for bed and crawled underneath the covers. Just as I was just about to turn off the lamp, a knock came from the connecting door. "Hey Scully, you decent?" "No, Mulder. I'm sprawled on the bed wearing a G-string." His head popped around the door, wearing a half-smile that plays around the corners of his mouth. He paced up and down the room for a moment, rubbing his chin. Thinking. "I didn't tell you on the flight over, but I've seen this before." He straddled a chair, his arms dangling from its back. "The incident goes back to 1947. A logger came across a open grave. Fortunately, the bodies in the grave weren't human." "What were they? Extra-terrestrial?" His laugh was harsh. "Not everything paranormal has to involve aliens, Scully. No, the remains were of animals. Hundreds of them reduced to skeletons. It said that the grave was so huge that it must've contained a couple of thousand bodies." "I don't see why that case needs to be investigated by us. The SPCA maybe, but not by the FBI." "All the bones in the grave had the same MO as your victim, Scully. The bones were clean, as if someone had turned all that was living into synthetic protein. And you know what else I found?" "Something equally as interesting, I suspect." "Have you ever known me to be boring, Scully?" No, I hadn't. Mulder may be a lot of things, but boring wasn't one of them. "There was also a similar pattern of deaths in Sinks Canyon in the winter of 1977, in exactly the same area as this year's deaths." "Same MO?" "Yeah, all the bodies were had minimal tissue covered with a film of unknown substance. They didn't know what it was exactly 'cause they didn't have the technology to analyse it back then." "It doesn't mean there's only one killer. I refuse to accept the idea of a fifty year old ghost marauding through the countryside zapping people." "Can't you accept it as a possibility? What the hell could literally _melt_ flesh like that?" "It might be an unauthorised experiment gone wrong, or the result of an industrial accident. There's nothing overly paranormal about those two scenarios." "Scully, have you ever _seen_ something like this before?" He used his full height to try and stare me down -- a big boy up to a little boy's tricks. It didn't work. "Mulder," I said, weary of the argument, "I concede that it's unusual, but as long as there's a plausible explanation, it's not an X-File." "How many pharmaceutical companies in Wyoming do you know? If you call that plausible, then I'm afraid to think of what you'd call implausible." He pelted out a few arguments but it sounded like whining. I felt a migraine coming on just from listening to him. This case wasn't about to be solved tonight and we both knew it. Besides, I had too much on my mind to be able to process anything through my skull, none of it having anything to do with the case. "Mulder, go to bed. We've got a full day tomorrow interviewing witnesses, and I want to be able to last through it." He didn't need any convincing -- Mulder was out the door before I'd finished the sentence. He was pissed off, but then he's not the only one. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* New day. Old leads. Nothing changes in this town. The sheriff swaggers in like John Wayne, oblivious to the danger lurking outside in the woods. I wonder if he had any idea what he was dealing with? From his casualness in dealing with the investigation yesterday, I doubt it. Scully didn't even say boo at breakfast. She didn't meet my eye, and if she did she would quickly withdraw it. I think she's better acquainted with her bowl of cereal than with me. Can you be jealous of a bowl of cereal? The sheriff seemed content on engaging in small talk. "'Morning, Agent Mulder. How did you sleep?" I took the 'Scully' method of denial. "Oh, fine. I like sleeping on lumpy mattresses, anyway." The sheriff seemed a little offended. Too bad. "Sorry 'bout that. Should've booked you too into Mavis' B&B, but she's all booked out until two weeks after New Year's." "I imagine it gets rather busy around here." "Yeah -- ski season, Christmas and all. Everyone wants to go to the mountains. Say, where's Agent Scully this mornin'?" I eyed him suspiciously, but he seemed innocent. "She had to check out some test results down in the lab." As an afterthought, "Why?" "Oh, I just want to congratulate her on the great work she did last night. I showed our local pathologist the results when he came by earlier. Her autopsy certainly impressed him and I can tell you Richard isn't a man who's easily impressed." "Scully's one of the best in the FBI--" I was sick of small talk. "I'm sorry, but you said you know of another possible witness?" "Oh, yeah. You have to see George Clark. He's lived in the area for as long as I remember. His place is right by the trail, so he might have seen something. Anyway, you should see him regardless. George has some... interesting views." "What do you mean by 'interesting'?" "Well, George believes the woods are haunted." *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* George Clark's home was primitive. The home, which he called 'the lodge', was made of deerskin, the way the Shoshone had built their lodges for centuries. He'd lived on the reservation since he was a child, but the onset of old age gave him a yearning for freedom. With the last of his life savings, he had bought an acre of uncleared land five miles from Lander. He had to walk the distance every day, for he had no car, but he relished the exercise. His grandchildren were furious at his move, but they could not do anything. He was their elder, and elders were to be respected. The winter had been a hard one. The last time he remembered it being so cold was as a teenager when the Little Wind River froze for half a year. Cold winters made the spirits restless. You had to be careful or you might anger a spirit. Sometimes, they would kill for no reason at all. He'd felt their presence strongly in the weeks before the Snow Festival, otherwise known as Christmas. He sensed trouble, and so it didn't surprise George to find two FBI agents at his door one morning, their stares were as frozen as the river outside. The man was tall, lean, and dark. He reminded George of a wolf stalking his prey, alert and ready to strike. The woman was the opposite of the man in appearance. She was pale and short, yet her eyes showed an alertness and intelligence that rivalled the man's. "Mr. Clark?" the woman asked in an uncompromising voice. "That's me. Can I help you?" "I'm Agent Dana Scully. This is Agent Fox Mulder. May we ask you a few questions?" "Sure." he replied, not even bothering to check their badges as he showed them in. Their whole countenance smelled of FBI. Once seated, he turned his eyes to the woman, who looked at him with suspicion. "Have you heard about the deaths in Sinks Canyon State Park, Mr. Clark." "Well, yes. News travels fast, even out here." "Mr. Clark, you know this area well, don't you?" "I guess I do. I've lived here all my life." "Have you ever seen this man before?" She handed me a picture of a young man, in his twenties. He recognised him as the man in the drugstore. "I've seen him around. His name is David." "Yes, David Johns. Do you know him?" "Not well -- I talk to him sometimes when I go to the drugstore. He likes skiing. He likes the woods a lot. Don't know much more than that." "Have you seen him in the past week?" "I haven't been here over the past week. Stayed with my son in Riverton." The woman seemed to run out of questions, and it was the man who continued. "Mr. Clark, I heard this area used to be the summer camp for the local Shoshone tribes." "The Shoshone were a nomadic race, but yes, the area was a popular summer place." "Would there be many sacred sites in the area?" "All of the earth is sacred, but especially places where the dead lie." He saw a glint in the man's eye. The woman gave the man a disapproving glance that spoke a thousand words. "Have you heard of any legends concerning the spirits in the canyon?" "There are many spirits, Mr. Mulder, but most are kind when they are treated well." "Do you know of any that kill?" "Any spirit can kill if it is angry enough." "Do you know any that kill like this?" the woman asked, handing him another picture. His blood froze when he saw what was left of the young man. His memory travelled back to his childhood. He saw the Grey One rise and surrounded his boyhood friend, melting his flesh until there was only bone. He looked up at the woman, whose eyes penetrated his. Owl's eyes, wide and all knowing. One that had seen too much. "I have seen this once, when I was a boy. The tso apittse, or the Grey One. Some people call him the bigfoot. He guards the souls of the dead. He melts the flesh of those who anger him. I saw it with my own eyes." He saw the silent talk flow when the man glanced at the woman. The woman did not believe. Like many white men, she saw only with her eyes and not with her heart. The man understood him. He saw it in the way the man sat, upright like an eager student. "Do you think it can happen again?" the man questioned. "Yes, especially now when the weather is cold. The Grey One is half spirit, half beast. He gets his energy from the earth. Winter is the most dangerous time to be in the woods, when he is attracted to warm-blooded creatures." "Us." "Yes." "Why does he kill?" "Because one does not show him respect." "So a predator can avoid being killed?" "Yes, that is how the Shoshone survive winter in the woods. You must lay a circle of five stones and sit at the centre. Then he will judge if you are worthy of his respect. If you are worthy, then he will protect you, and will not kill again until the next freeze." The woman was still unconvinced, and but stood up to shake his hand. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Clark." she said absently. The young man gave him a heartier shake. As they ducked beneath the entrance, he prayed that the Great Spirit will watch over the two, and hoped that they will calm the Grey One. The man was a believer, and although the woman did not believe, she was still strong in her faith, more than she ever realised. They would need every ounce of that faith in the times ahead. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* I knew Scully was angry as soon as we left George Clark's place. I knew because she walked quickly, in calculated steps, her head lifted high like a queen. I followed her back to the car, getting in from the passenger's side. I silently handed her the keys, not wanting to argue over such trivialities as who was driving. I waited for her to start the engine. She kept one hand on the ignition but didn't turn the key. "Scully, I think we should go to the second crime scene. We have to make sure the Grey One doesn't kill again. She didn't reply, although I swore I could feel the waves of anger emanating from her. "Mulder, we don't need to go back there. They've searched it enough all ready. Hell, they've taken everything bar the trees." She stared straight ahead. I could see the tension lines appear at the corners of her mouth, but I was no longer sympathetic. Why couldn't she see the truth for once? "Dammit, Scully! That thing's going to keep on killing until the winter's over. Do you want to go home knowing you could have done something about it?" "If you want to wallow in your own guilt, that's fine with me." she said in a level voice. "Just don't expect me to follow you like a stupid dog." I started to explain, but Scully obviously had no intention of listening. "After I came home from the hospital, I thought things would go back to the way they were before... before--" she paused as her voice wavered. I saw tears beginning to form in her eyes. I wanted to wipe them away, but I didn't dare. "But, of course things weren't the same. Nothing was." "Things change, Scully. You can't stop it, and neither can I." "I know, but this change is for the worse, Mulder." She looked small, vulnerable. It frightened me to see her like this, knowing I couldn't help her. "I've always been one to question things," she continued, "the sceptic who needed to base all her findings on fact. But my recovery's changed my view. The doctors couldn't explain what happened. I certainly couldn't believe that implanting a chip would force my cancer into remission almost spontaneously. Mom believed it was a miracle." "And you? Do you believe it was a miracle?" "I don't know. I _want_ to believe it was, like God was giving me another chance, but how can I believe when He lets good people like Penny and Betsy die? Why did he spare me? When all I'm doing is returning to is to this never ending wild goose chase. "I'm tired of this, Mulder. Tired of constantly facing the unknown. Tired of questioning and not getting any answers. Tired of always losing." What could I say? I had dreaded this moment ever since I knew Scully was essential to me, but nothing could quite prepare me for it. I looked into my hands. I knew it was the end, I just didn't have the guts to face it. "I'm sorry." I said. "The thing is, I don't blame you, Mulder. You did what you had to do, what you thought was right. "I'm thinking... I'm thinking of taking some time off after we get back. Think things through a little. "Please, Mulder. I need to do this, by myself. I know you've been... concerned for me lately, but I'm okay, you know? I'm not sick now and I won't break into pieces if you don't see me for a week. Do you know what I mean?" I nodded, still speechless. "I'm not leaving, so don't start beating yourself, okay?" Sure, Scully. And the Pope is Jewish. "I'll try." I said, although knowing how hard it would be to keep her promise. She seemed satisfied with my answer, finally turning on the ignition. The engine revved into life, even as my own spirit died a spluttering death. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* =III= Silence. Ice. The combination hadn't bothered me much before. I used to love to go for long walks in the woods in the middle of winter. I loved the quiet, the peace. Now there's too much of it. Long, thick silences which create their own conversations when words have fallen flat. I wondered if anyone had ever died of silence. I wondered if anyone has ever died of cold in eighty-degree temperatures. Mulder may have been on a world first, the way he was grilling the young park ranger. Mills was becoming more agitated by the minute, but Mulder did not back down. I saw him cling to his crumbling mask of control. I was frightened of what will happen when the last piece falls. He quickly glanced at me as he spoke. I held his gaze until he looked away, afraid of revealing too much. It was too late. I had seen his fear. It was there, mingled with anger and regret, along with empathy and compassion. He knew he couldn't hide these things. Not from me. Mulder convinced Mills to take us to the crime scene, as the sheriff flatly refused to go so close to Christmas. Couldn't expend the manpower, he said. It may be more accurate to say that the woods made people nervous. More than that; they fear it. I'm sure someone knows who, or what, is doing the killing out there. I could understand their need to protect their own, but was it worth the price? We were to go back to our motel to dress. Somehow, the standard FBI dress code was deemed slightly inappropriate for such a genteel activity as trekking through the snow. Unfortunately, that meant braving another ten minutes of Mulder's wonderful company in the car. Mills left the room. Silence returned in full force. As I gathered up my notes, I tried to avoid Mulder's unavoidable glare. I didn't have to look up to know that his eyes were on me. I almost ran out of the room to escape them. I was out the door before I found the courage to look back. I stopped in my tracks. Mulder sat cradling his head in his hands. Eyes closed. Defeated. I tried to ignore the guilty feeling sinking to the pit of my stomach as I walked away. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The ride into the park was done in silence. Mills didn't have much to say, and neither did Scully and I. We'd understood what was at stake. We knew that one small move and I'd lose her totally. Trust was a fragile thing, and ours was crumbling. It had snowed overnight, and fresh powder covered the ground. The roof of the park ranger's cabin was weighed down by snow. We stayed in the four-wheel drive while Mills got out the snowmobile, sitting awkwardly like strangers. I wanted to get out of the car desperately, yet I couldn't bring myself to open the door. I was angry at Scully for freezing me out. Things hadn't been right ever since we stepped into this stinking state. Couldn't she see how it was affecting our investigation? How it was affecting _us_? "Scully..." I started, although I didn't know what to say next. Only that I needed to say something. "Shut up, Mulder." "But Scully, we need to talk about this." "Look Mulder, we're in the middle of a case. There's a crazed whatever-it-is turning people into goo, and you're worried about our personal problems? Didn't you learn anything in the Academy about separating your personal life from your work? Please, leave it for now." I was about to give her an angry answer when Mills came out with the snowmobile. Soon we were cruising through the woods to the last crime scene. After riding for half an hour, Mills stopped the vehicle, and we walked the final three miles to the site through thick bush as the trail was only wide enough for one person. Silence rang in my ears, along with my heavy breathing and the crunch of my boots in the ice. Every once in a while Mills would check the trail for tracks. When we had been walking for an hour, he signalled us to stop. "We may be in luck, Agent Mulder. These footprints look only a couple of hours old." Squatting next to Mills, the prints seemed to match those we found at the crime scene. The Grey One was returning to the burial grounds. We had to stop it before he managed to melt any more people. I nodded to Mills. "Let's keep going then." Mills looked up at the sky momentarily. "We'd better hurry if you want to be home for Christmas. Looks like a storm is coming." he said, pointing to a group of dark, threatening clouds on the horizon." We walked on in a single file. The trail hugged the edge of a ridge, climbing higher into the wooded hills. Mills was setting a steady pace. Every once in a while I would glance back to assure myself we hadn't lost Scully, or that she hadn't ditched us to continue our suicidal march. I needn't have worried - she was always there. The last mile was on more level ground. A thick canopy of pines covered the crime scene so it couldn't be easily spotted from the air. Even though the ground was more or less flat, there wasn't a clearing close enough to land a helicopter, let alone a plane. I felt a tap on my shoulder. Scully called me to stop. "Mulder, listen." I stopped and did what she'd asked. I heard nothing. It was a sensation so foreign it sent chills up my spine. "I don't hear anything." I whispered. It seemed ridiculous to break such silence with talk. "Exactly. It's like we're in vacuum here." Mills had joined us by then, pausing with us. "This is eerie. I can't even hear the wind." Then, I knew why it was so quiet. The Grey One was near. Even the wind had showed him respect. "He's here." I announced. "Who, the killer? How do you know?" asked Scully incredulously. "Just a feeling. Mills, tell me when we get close to the site, will you? I don't want any of us to go in until I'm sure it's safe." "Safe? What's so dangerous about it? No one's stupid enough to try to get here. Besides, no one knows where it is aside from the sheriff and us." "The tso apittse knows where it is." "The bigfoot? You believe in some old Shoshone legend? Agent Mulder, if you wanna believe in fairy tales, go ahead, just don't tell me how to do my job. C'mon, I want to get out of here before the blizzard hits." He stamped off at a break-neck pace. I exhausted myself trying to keep up with him in the knee-high snow. As I stopped to catch my breath, I felt Scully come up beside me. "Goddammit, Mulder. You just had to stir him up, didn't you?" I couldn't listen to her complaints, not when I'd lost Mills' figure behind the trees. He could be there at any moment. "Scully, I don't have time for this. I gotta stop him before--" We both heard Mills' scream, and immediately knew we were too late. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Mulder ran before I'd gotten over the shock. I tried to keep as close to him as possible, so close that when Mulder came to an abrupt halt, I almost toppled over him. I heard him gasp. Up ahead, I saw Mills, or what was left of him. His body had literally vaporised. I could still see waifs of steam rising from his body. I had never seen anything so chilling, so spontaneous. Whatever this was, it was not some form of industrial espionage. Especially when I spotted the large, grey mass coming toward us. I was frozen with fear. "Oh my god, Scully. Hurry, find some rocks." Then I remembered our conversation with George Clark. Find five rocks. There were none visible, all rocks must have been buried beneath the snow. I went down on my knees and dug under the snow with my gloved hands. The snow was soft and no more than half feet deep. I quickly found three rocks. Mulder, who had followed suit, found two more. Lay them in a circle. Mulder took the rocks from me and placed them in a circle wide enough for us to stand in. Then, he dragged me into the middle, arm tight around my waist. In the back of my mind, I realised how intimate the gesture was, but all I saw was the giant figure of grey stamping its way across the snow. I could feel Mulder's fear through his taut grip, as the creature stopped a short distance from the circle. It seemed to stand there for an eternity, sucking in the forest sounds. Although the creature had no eyes, no identifiable features in fact, I swore that I could feel it stare at me. I shivered. The grey mass grew brighter until I had to shut my eyes against the light. By the time I opened them again, the creature had gone. The air grew colder with every step I took. I was tired. I was cold. The clothes I wore were inadequate in the sub-freezing temperatures. Mulder wanted to conduct a thorough investigation of the site and had set out before I could dissuade him. He was back at his stubborn best. Surprisingly unfazed by the sight of Mills' remains splattered on the ground, he searched methodically, trying to find similarities between this scene and the previous scene of crime. I had no such problems examining the body. From a cursory examination (I needed a lab to do a thorough one), the MO was identical to the previous victim. I could even see the synthetic protein substance on the surface of the skeleton. "There's only one good thing about this." I shouted to Mulder, "It's so cold that the body will be well preserved." "Yeah," he replied, "like frozen Eskimo." I couldn't keep my hair off my face, and realised the wind had picked up. "We'd better start heading back, Mulder. I think the blizzard's going to hit pretty soon." "Right." he answered, dragging the yellow crime scene tape around the site. We packed up our knapsacks and headed back down the mountain. The sky grew darker as massive clouds lumbered overhead. The wind had turned into a gail by the time we reached the open ridge, and threatened to blow us off the face of the mountain. "Mulder, this is crazy!" I shouted into the wind. "We have to get off the mountain or we'll never get back." "We won't make it anyway in this weather." "Gotta try. Keep going until we reach the bottom." He kept moving; his body crouched to keep as close to the ground as possible. I clung to the cliff face, hanging on to every rock I could grasp to keep myself from falling. I slipped a couple of times and each time Mulder would haul me up. I did the same for him when he stumbled, shouting words of reassurance in his ear. I didn't know how long it took, but we eventually made it on to level ground. By this time, snow had begun to fall, blasting slivers of ice into our faces. "Mulder, we have to stop!" I yelled. I had to call him repeatedly before he heard me above the piercing howl of the wind. "Have to take shelter." he shouted. I looked around. Visibility was down to no more than twenty feet. I couldn't spot anything aside from tree trunks and ice-covered bushes. "Behind there." he yelled, pointing to a wall of shrubs. We staggered through the snow, holding each other upright as our feet sank into the snowdrifts. Eventually, we collapsed behind the shrubs. They weren't exceptionally tall, but they did provide some protection against the wind. The drifts were deep, and I found myself sinking into the snow. Then I had an idea. "Mulder, dig!" He looked at me strangely for a moment, and then a look of realisation flashed across his face as he watched me bury myself in the snow. The snow reached up to my chest. Mulder only managed to bury himself up to his waist. We sat there for a moment. My teeth clattered from the cold. "Scully." Mulder held out his arms. Without thinking, I gratefully crawled into them. His arms were bound to be warmer than freezing to death alone. I sat in his lap, rebuilding the snow so that it covered our legs and chest, leaving our arms free. As I leant back into his chest, I felt his arms encircle me. From our excellent vantage point, we watched the chaos surround us. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* =IV= The blizzard continued. The first few hours were the most painful as the cold bit into my face and neck. It was almost a relief when the numbness kicked in like an overdue dose of Valium. We tried to keep each other awake, knowing we may not awake if we succumbed to sleep. It was the first time we had been alone since our experience in the Florida woods. Except it was a good eighty degrees warmer then. No one sang this time -- our chattering teeth prevented us from being particularly musical. We did talk though, firstly about inconsequential things. My Oxford escapes made her chuckle. I smiled when she told me about the time she'd gone fishing with her brothers and how she fell into the water, so eager was she to net her first catch. As we sat there in the snow, cocooned by the wind and the snow, I felt at ease for the first time on the case. Maybe it was the knowledge that we may die if the blizzard didn't ease up, or the realisation that our squabbles meant absolutely nothing out here. We had been judged already today by the creature that had spared our lives. Now, we were judged again -- by the elements. This time we may not be so lucky. Her voice startled me out of contemplation. I was surprised to hear her above the squawk of the wind. "Mulder." she whispered so softly I had lower my ears to her lips. "Mulder, you know we might not make it out of here." I was shocked by the doubt in her voice. "Negative thought, Scully. Can't have you thinking like that." I joked half-heartedly. "Besides, we've gotten out of worse." "That's just the point, you see. It's the ordinary things that are the most deadly, things like being stranded in the middle of a blizzard." She turned her head slowly, as if the effort was draining her. Her eyes reflected her fear. "We can freeze to death here and they won't find our bodies until spring." I didn't want her to talk like this, like dying out here was inevitable. I didn't want to see her fear because it scared the hell out of me, too. "Shhh... Turn around." I said as calmly as I could, turning her so that she faced away from me once more. I hugged her closer to my chest, and rested my chin on her shoulder. I could smell her scent above the sharp chill of the pines. She was trembling now. I didn't realise the trembling was from her tears and not from the cold until I saw the warm drops draw lines down her ice-covered face. "I'm scared, Mulder." "What about?" I asked quietly. She was silent for a long time; so long that I thought she had forgotten to answer. "I'm scared... for you." she whispered tentatively. "I'm scared 'cause I know we can't win here. "If I die, then you'd blame yourself, let the guilt pile up." I closed my eyes. How did she know? "If we both die, our search will die with us. We'll lose our chance to bring those, those _bastards_ to justice." I nodded into her shoulder. "If we get out of here, we'll just end up returning to our wild goose chase. And then when we're old and wrinkled, we'd look back and regret wasting our lives on such a lost cause. No, Scully. I would never regret any time I spent with you. "And if _you_ die... God, I don't know Mulder. I'd feel _lost_, you know? And after all we've been through in the past year; I'd feel somewhat cheated. I don't want to die. Not when I'm finally healthy. Not when we're on the verge of uncovering new truths. And not when we're on the verge of this..." She turned around and kissed me. Her touch was so light that I almost imagined the contact through the numbness of my lips. Yet, the contact sparked more heat in two seconds than I'd ever felt in years. Turning back, she hugged herself with a frightful grip. Somehow, I needed to say something, _anything_ to express the joy I felt. But my voice seemed to have died with the cold. An uncomfortable silence settled over us -- uncomfortable because I was so unaccustomed to the sensation of happiness that flowed through me. The happiness was overwhelming, so much that I almost wept. "Love you..." I mumbled softly, hoping she hadn't heard. But she did hear. "I know." she replied, "That's why I want to live, Mulder. I don't want to go not knowing what it might've been like. I don't want to leave you without hope." She didn't attempt to repeat the kiss, and neither did I. I was simply content to bask in the glorious aftermath. Instead, she settled her head on my chest, blanketing her body with my arms. Even with hell freezing over, I felt alive. All I've ever wanted I held in my arms. The sensation of peacefulness was no longer unknown. And I swore I didn't imagine her whispering to the wind the words I dreamed of. "Love you too, Mulder." The overcast sky, together with the fading light, cast everything in grey, the colour of death. We had been here for two days. The blizzard stopped some hours ago, but there was no escaping the cold. My arms were still wrapped around Scully, frozen in place, as I didn't have the energy to rub warmth into them. I didn't want to let her go anyhow. I closed my eyes and pretended I was lying on a soft mattress instead of hard ice, surrounded by warm blankets instead of cold snow. And Scully was lying naked beside me, her skin a light shade of pink instead of a deathly blue. Fortunately, I was too tired to even be aroused by such thoughts. Instead, I held her tighter still, and whispered incoherently. Don't worry, Scully, I told her. We'll get out of here. Together. Always together. I no longer had the strength to blink. Thinking became impossible. The cold was everywhere. It took all of my strength to press my frozen cheek against hers, hoping it would somehow ignite an ounce of warmth. I slept, dreaming of Scully. Some hours later, I awoke to a soft murmur of my name. "Mulder...?" I half wondered if the voice is part of my dream, until I heard it again. "Mulder, wake up." I pried my eyes open, but the light hurt so badly that I had to shut it again. "Mulder, listen." she said. I listened. I heard my breathing loud against my ears, her shallow breaths coming from somewhere above me. Then, I heard the buzzing of an insect. Not an insect. A motor. "Someone's coming." she said, then was quiet again. If it not for her hand squeezing mine, I wouldn't have known that she was with me. The buzzing grew louder. It was a snowmobile, maybe a rescue vehicle. The trail was a good thirty yards from where we were, so the rider may not even see us through the trees. I tried to shout but it came out closer to a whisper. I was so tired. I tried to raise my arm to wave but only managed a feeble imitation of the Queen's wave. The vehicle's buzz turned into a roar. My heart sank as the roar turned into a hum as the vehicle turned the corner into the woods. Soon, it was gone. I didn't care what happened to me any more. I wanted to bury my head in the snow and die. Then, I felt someone touch my arm. I opened my eyes and saw Scully, a frozen tear drifting down her cheek. The shock of disappointment in her eyes made me want to cry, too. I knew I had to survive for her. I couldn't let the cold beat me. I didn't bury my head in the snow. I buried my head in her chest instead. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* I had been awake for hours. It was our third day out here. We have had a meal in over 54 hours. I didn't think you could count half a Hershey bar as a meal. We sucked on snow for water. Weak was the understatement of the year. I couldn't even lift my head up to look at Mulder who had fallen asleep with one hand around my waist. He was still certain there would be a search party coming for us, but I didn't know if I could believe him any more. Mulder had been out since morning, not managing to even murmur. His temperature seemed normal, but then I didn't know for sure as I was half frozen myself. I had been dozing for most of the afternoon. The sky was a deep blue, the icicles still clung from the pines, the cabin looked nice and comfortable. A log cabin? Funny, it hadn't been there all the other times I looked in that direction. God, my head must be so messed up if I started seeing log cabins complete with a roaring fire already lit. I blinked. The cabin was still there. After a few minutes, I managed to sit up. I left Mulder sleeping on the ground, standing on wobbly legs in the firmly packed snow. But I fell back on the ground as soon as I took a step. The ice was slippery to walk on. The only way I could move was to crawl. It was almost fifty yards to the cabin through the trees. I knew I was going to exhaust myself getting there, but I didn't care. It was our only chance of survival. I climbed up to the porch made of wood weathered by decades of frost. A rocking chair sat beside the door, creaking in the breeze. The snow was deep near the porch, reaching almost to the top of the railings. I managed to get up on my feet and walk to the closed door. Was it luck that I found it unlocked? I guess there's not much of a chance of being robbed out here. I felt my heart beat in anticipation as I turned the handle. The room was small, but neat and clean. There was a wooden table with two chairs beside it. An oak bed stood in one corner; an afghan covered the floor. And yes, there was a well-lit fireplace in the far wall of the room. The cabin reminded me of the times Dad took us fishing as a kid -- it felt as if I had been here before. It felt like home. Then I remembered that Mulder was still out there. I ran the distance back to him, getting straight back up every time I fell on the ice. I didn't feel tired any more. Mulder was still lying exactly where I left him. Very still. Very quiet. I was relieved when I found him breathing, with a weak but steady pulse. I prodded him in the ribs. "Get up, Mulder." No reaction. "Mulder, c'mon big boy. Rise and shine." Nothing. I tried shaking him, tickling him, shouting at him. Still nothing. I dragged him by his collar and found that it wasn't so hard to move him because of the slippery ice. I managed to get him to the stairs at the bottom of the porch. Getting him up the stairs was another matter. I pulled him up one step at a time. Thank God he wasn't awake to feel the splinters lodge into his butt. I pulled him on to the bed and took everything off down to his boxers, covering him with a rough blanket. After draping his wet clothes by the fire, I knelt down so that my face was directly next to his. I prayed that they were peaceful. The night passed slowly. Mulder remained asleep throughout. His colour lost much of its blueness after awhile. We were both lucky that we had all our gear with us. We would have been frostbitten or dead without them. While Mulder slept, I explored the cabin. It looked like it had been built sometime last century. I didn't find any signs of electrical appliances. I'd heard about hermits living primitively in the backwoods, but even they would indulge in a twentieth century appliance or two. There wasn't much around in the way of food. I found a few strips of beef jerky and a small bag of potatoes. I was so hungry that I ate the hard beef jerky without a second thought, nearly breaking my teeth in the process. I boiled and mashed some of the potatoes, and soaked the rest of the jerky to soften it. Mulder was bound to be hungry when he woke up. Feeding that man may prove to be a problem. I dragged a chair beside his bed and spent time just watching him sleep. I rarely got the chance to do this as Mulder rarely gets a good night's rest. In sleep, he is a boy again, but a boy with demons nevertheless. For the moment, they left him in peace. I counted the number of days we've been in the woods. If I were correct, then tomorrow would be Christmas Eve. That might delay the rescue teams even further. Who would want to search miles and miles of frozen wasteland for two FBI agents who were in all probability dead? The possibility that we may not be found crossed my mind at that moment. If the rescue teams didn't come within the next few days, even the warmth of this cabin wouldn't make much of a difference. I hadn't seen a woodpile outside, leaving only the wood inside the cabin. And the food would run out in a few meals. There was always water, but how long could a human body survive without energy to fend off the cold? My mind boggled at the possibilities, and I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, my dreams filled with frozen nightmares. I was surrounded by horrified screams that penetrated all of my senses, holding me prisoner with its terror. The man screamed louder and louder until it wretched me out of unconsciousness. "No! Don't take her!" a man screamed. "Don't leave me here. Please." he cried. The man was Mulder. I stumbled out of the chair to the bed. He thrashed his arms, throwing his blankets aside. I said his name as calmly as I could. "Scully..." he moaned, tossing his head from side to side, still unaware of my presence. I stroked his hair. "It's okay. I'm here." I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back so hard that it hurt. Suddenly, he pulled me down on to the bed. His grip was strong, crushing my face to his chest. "Scully... Scully, I don't want you to die. I don't want you to go." I could feel his body shake and his tears soaking my hair. He cried for a long time, his sobs subsiding only out of exhaustion. After awhile, he slept, relaxing his grip so I no longer suffocated. I climbed on to the bed, my hands shaking as I pulled the tattered blanket over the both of us. I laid my head lightly against his shoulder, my hand gently rubbing the soft hairs of his chest. My thoughts kept me awake for a long time. I had dreamt of holding him like this, but not under these circumstances. I had seen him walk the line between sanity and insanity. I had seen him lose control of his anger. Yet, this was the first time I saw him weep. Mulder kept his mask tightly on, so afraid was he of being hurt. It was ironic that this time, the mask slipped off when he is least aware. Mulder was a man who guarded every one he valued zealously. That included guarding them from him and his fears. His fear of losing me must be close to the top of the list. What he doesn't know was that he shared this fear with me. My greatest nightmare was to wake up one day without him, and to realise that I didn't really know him. I would then be alone, floating in the ether of life, real happiness being only a figment of my imagination because the one person who I could be happy with was gone. I tightened my embrace. He instinctively hugged back, not letting go even in sleep. The rise and fall of his chest lulled my back to sleep. I felt warmer and safer for the first time in days. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* =V= "Agent Scully?" I opened my eyes at the sound of my name. I saw a middle-aged man in a white coat hovering over me. Hospital. I was in hospital again. How the hell did I get here? The last thing I remembered was being in the cabin and Mulder sleeping... Mulder! Where was he? The doctor must have seen my panic because he started to speak. "I'm Doctor Austen. Do you know where you are." I paused for a minute to think. This must be the nearest hospital to Lander. Where would that be? "I know I'm still in Wyoming." "You're right, Agent Scully. In Casper General Hospital." Casper? That was quite a distance away. They must have airlifted us by helicopter or the likes. "How long have I been here?" "Twenty four hours. You were brought here suffering from mild hypothermia. So did your partner. You have both made a remarkable recovery, I must say." "Where is Agent Mulder?" "Your partner? He's in a room down the hall. May I ask you a question, Agent Scully? I'm curious about how you managed to survive the worst blizzard the area has had in twenty years in the open." "What do you mean by that?" "Well, you were missing during the coldest four days this winter. That's why rescuers took so long to find you. They couldn't reach the area in high wind and snow. Now, tell me. How did Agent Mulder can survive sub-zero temperatures in his underwear?" "His _underwear_? We weren't out in the open. Not all the time, anyway. On the third day I found a cabin and we stayed there. Agent Mulder's clothes were wet, so I took them off to dry by the fire." The doctor looked at me as if I was insane. Maybe I was in some ways, but I could not have imagined that we kept ourselves alive for three days by _thinking_ about a cabin. Had we? "Now," the doctor interrupted, "I'm going to leave you to rest. From the progress you've made so far, I would say that you'll be able to walk the halls by this afternoon. You will be discharged in a day or two." "Thank you, doctor." He silently nodded and shut the door behind me. Now, all I have to do is to contain myself before I see Mulder this afternoon. Mulder was in the middle of shooting a free throw into the wastepaper basket when I walked through the door. He missed. "And Patrick Ewing misses, distracted by a luscious redhead coming on to the court." He grinned and I could feel my cheeks burn. "I see you've recovered, Mulder." "Yes, Doctor Scully. They say they're gonna spring me out tomorrow morning. You, too." "Yeah, I heard about that." I sighed, "Shame, I was looking forward to all the gourmet food and luxury accommodation." "_You_ are looking forward to it? Hell, I wanna _move_ here." I couldn't resist laughing at such an absurd idea. I could see all the nurses in the county running into the hills when they heard Mulder was moving into Casper General. I laughed and laughed until my stomach hurt. Mulder tried to look insulted. "Hey, it wasn't _that_ funny." "I know, but I haven't laughed like this in such a long time." I was confused when Mulder frowned. Then, I realised what I had said. He must be blaming himself for my lack of happiness. "Mulder." I said, walking up to his bed, "It's okay, you know. You're not entirely responsible for my happiness." His eyes were so pained that I had to reach out and touch his cheek. It was the only way I could comfort him at that moment. "I know," he replied, "but that doesn't mean I don't want better for you." He sighed, shoulders drooped. "Look at us, Scully. It's Christmas Day and we're spending it in hospital at a place that Santa Claus would have trouble finding." I thought of my family, safe in Mom's place, tucking into the turkey and pudding. Then it occurred to me that _Mulder_ was family. "It's not so bad." I said, giving my biggest. "At least we're not alone." The comment at least brought up a smile. He lifted both of his arms up slightly. It was all the invitation I needed to throw my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder while he buried his face in my hair. We stayed like that for a long time. "Scully..." If I hadn't been so close, I wouldn't have heard him. "Yeah?" "You know when we were out in the woods? I had a dream so vivid I swear it was real." "What did you dream?" I muttered into his shoulder. He took a deep breath, and held me tighter. "In the beginning, it was cold, so cold I couldn't feel my arms and legs. I... I thought I lost you. Like when you were in hospital last and I thought everything would end 'cause the cure hadn't worked." He was trembling now, breathing in deeply. I realised he was crying. "And then it was warm, so warm. I could feel heat all around me. Somehow, I knew you were there with me. I could _feel_ you beside me. And I knew that everything would be all right." I could see all this as he described it to me. I remembered his body twisting on the bed, in the midst of a nightmare. I could feel his warmth as I hugged him to me, covering me with peace as I drifted off to sleep. "You weren't dreaming, Mulder." I said to him, "It was real." He lifted up his head to look at me, confusion in his eyes. "It was?" "Well, if it wasn't then you and I were having the exact same dream." He thought about this for awhile before he said anything more. "The rescue team found us in the snow." "I don't know how we ended up there. I found a cabin while you were asleep. I managed to get you in there and on a bed. Eventually, I fell asleep. That was the last thing I remembered before I woke up this morning." "But it was below freezing outside. How did I manage to get me so warm?" "There was a fire lit in the cabin, Mulder. And I covered you with blankets." "And you. That must have been a dream." I looked down at his chest, in two minds at whether I should tell him the truth and risk his rejection, or just tell him what he wants to hear. When I looked up, I saw that he had been watching me with concern, and desire that he didn't attempt to conceal. He remembered, too. "Was it?" he said softly, his face only inches from mine. I avoided his eyes, my sight resting on his mouth. Watching his lips open and close as he swallowed was the most erotic sight of my life. "No." I felt his lips on mine. Soft, just touching, unsure of whether to go further. The gentleness did not stop the heat from pooling at my groin. I parted my lips further to deepen the kisses. "Oh, I'm sorry!" We pulled back so fast Mulder bumped his head against the backboard. I spun around to see a young nurse at the door. "Miss Scully?" I nodded, still too shocked to speak. "Your mother is on the phone. Would like to take it in this room?" "Yes, of course." I managed to stutter. "Okay then, I'll put her through." she replied. I saw her grinning as she closed the door. Mulder looked sheepishly at me. "You don't regret it, do you?" he asked. I shook my head. "Good, 'cause I certainly don't. I might even tell Frohike about it." "Don't you dare, Mulder, or I'll shoot you where the sun don't shine." "Ow." he grimaced, "Okay, I'll shut up now." "Sure, Mulder. You've never shut up in your life." "Mmm, mmm, mm..." he mumbled. "Yeah, really funny." I said, punching him in the arm. Unfortunately, the fight was interrupted by the phone. I scrambled to the phone but Mulder's longer arms managed to reach it first. "Hello? Mrs. Scully, hi... Yeah, she's here... No, we're fine, the doctors said we'd be out tomorrow... Merry Christmas to you, too... Don't worry, I'll take care of her. Here she is." He handed me the phone, giving me a sly wink. "Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas... Yeah, I'm fine. We both are." And as I caught Mulder's cheesy grin, I realised that for the first time I really meant it. THE END.