Title : Fides Procuro
Author : Kelly Moreland
Archive : Anywhere, just let me know.
Spoilers : None really.
Rating : Probably PG-13 for disturbing images, and language.
Category : Angst, M/Other friendship
Summary : Colonization/Apocalyptic hell
Feedback : is what keeps me writing.
Disclaimer : CC created M & S. I created Kari. I don't own
his, he don't own mine. 'Nuff said.

Author's note : This was the first piece of fan fic I ever
wrote. I've been revising it for a while because I wasn't
completely happy with it.




Fides Procuro
by Kelly Moreland


This is how our world ended. Swallowed in death, but not in
darkness, for a few of us survived. 


On May 27th, 2001 life as we knew it did end. What remains
are threads of an unraveled tapestry. Pockets of humanity
scattered here and there.

I was at my fathers cabin in Missouri, on the lake of the
Ozarks.  The whole family was getting together, and I'd gone
up early to set things up. Since, as my father so delicately
put it, 'I don't have a real job'. I'm a writer by trade, or
by curse, depending on how you look at it. Coming from a
family of lawyers and doctors, I was the black sheep, and
*gasp* the only girl as well. Talk about double jeopardy.

Anyway.

I'd done all the things my father expected, bought
groceries, cleaned, aired; had the boat and canoes pulled
out of storage. Martha Stuart would have been proud,
I mused as I sat on the back porch with a beer. 
My father might take it for granted, but Martha would have
been proud.

I had the radio on, halfway listening for the weather report
for the coming weekend. God knows my Dad and my three
brothers were expecting the weather to be perfect, made to
order in fact. They had male bonding to do! They had to
constantly congratulate each other on being the lords of
creation. Rain did not figure into things.

I secretly prayed for at least one day of cats-and-dogs
falling from the skies, kind of rain.

I know this sounds bitter, but Mom died when I was ten and
growing female up in a testosterone guided household ain't
easy. Try it, you'll see.

I just about fell out of my chair, when a news broadcast 
interrupted the music. At this time, for unspecified
reasons, the President of the united states had declared a
state of emergency, and upgraded our status with NORAD to
DEFCON 3. He would be making a statement shortly.

The music resumed, and I just stared for a moment at the
radio. The first thing I did was try to call my Dad in St.
Louis, but all I kept getting was 'all circuits are busy'.
I turned on every TV in the house, tuning all of them to a
different news broadcast.

Someone had to know what was going on, right? 

Sure. I held onto that illusion for all of an hour.

I carried the radio with me into the kitchen as I made a
sandwich for dinner. I wasn't really hungry, but it was
something to do other than pacing the floor. I finally
settled in front of the TV in the living room, and turned to
the mother of all news stations.

But, the more I listened to CNN, the less any of it made
sense.

Advisers and so called experts were speculating on our state
of emergency. Troops from Fort Brag to Edwards Air Force
base were being mobilized, as well as the national guard.

But no one would say who was threatening us. 

The normally well composed news people  looked flushed, and
anxious. One actually got up and walked out of the station,
saying 'screw this', before they had a chance to bleep it
out.

Guess he'd heard enough.

When the President came on, he looked pale and worn. At two
fifty this afternoon, and object of unknown origin was
picked up on our defense satellites, as it entered our
space. At this time, we unsure exactly what it was, but
since it was holding its position, we could assume it was
not a comet or rogue asteroid. He would not say it was a
craft from another planet, only that the object posed
concerns for the Department of Defense. He urged people to
stay in their homes, or to seek shelter at FEMA or
red cross organized sites. 

He assured us that this crisis would pass. I stayed on the
couch all night, wrapped up in a blanket, but not sleeping.
I tried repeatedly to call my father and brothers, but I
couldn't get a call out to anywhere. Around four thirty, I
saw something that is etched  in my mind to this day.

Video from an affiliate in Atlanta showed a black triangle
hovering over the downtown area. It fired on a building,
turned on its axis and fired on another. Then another ship
appeared, almost identical to the other one. The second
fired on the first, and the explosion was so bright it
whited out the screen.

There was static for about three seconds, then the TV died.
I flipped the power button on the remote, but nothing
happened.

"What the fuck?" I mumbled, walking over to the set, and
manually flipping the switch. Nothing. I checked the other
TVs, before finally laughing to myself. Perfect time for the
power to go out. I reached for the radio, and turned it on.

Nothing. 

I flipped the power switch off an on several times, thinking
'this can't be right'.

I knew the batteries in it were fresh. I'd put them in
yesterday. I looked down at the digital watch on my wrist.
The display screen was blank.

I went through the house, every clock, every electronic 
device, battery powered or not, was dead. Even my car
wouldn't start.

I walked back into the living room, and stood listening to 
absolutely nothing. No quiet hum of the refrigerator, no
barely audible tick of the clock on the mantle. Dead
silence. Not even any crickets or birds chirping outside,
as the sun came up.

I sat down on the floor in front of the couch, and wept in
fear and frustration.

That was how I spent my first night.

I stayed three days at the cabin, waiting. For what, 
I'm still not sure. My father and brothers never showed up. 
I'd hoped in vain, that the power would come back on, that 
something resembling a normal life would return.  But it
didn't happen. No phone, no radio, no TV. No news.
I had never felt more alone in my life. 

That was when I  decided to go to Sunrise Beach. It was the
closest town, a good six mile hike from our place, but
anything would be better than sitting here I reasoned.
Besides, all of the food in the fridge had spoiled, and I
was fast running out of supplies.

So, off I went. Sunrise was one of those little yuppie-type
summer towns that I despised, and that my father helped
develop. It had several quaint B & B's, an open air market,
selling all the latest culinary trends, an L. L. Bean store.
Get the picture?

I avoided the place like the plague.

Now, it looked like the worlds first yuppie ghost town. 
I walked along the sidewalk, the silence was deafening. 
I wanted to scream out loud. To yell 'Is anyone here?', 
but I couldn't seem to find my voice. I couldn't break the 
silence that I'd come to hate.

As I rounded the corner of Pine Knoll, and turned onto Main, 
I stumbled over something. I kept my balance, until I 
looked down and saw what it was.

She might have been fourteen years old. She lay there on 
the sidewalk, obviously dead for a while. Maroon streaks of 
dried blood marking trails from her nose, across her lips
and chin. The front of her pastel tank top was stained a
murky brown.

I fell flat on my ass in shock, and crab crawled backward
away from her.

I struggled back to my shaking legs before throwing up. 
I braced my hands on my knees, and retched long after my 
stomach was empty. 

Keeping my eyes focused anywhere but where she lay, I
continued on. I gradually became numb to the smell, and the
sight of it all. But seeing the children were the worst,
they still haunt my dreams sometimes.

Bodies lay in doorways, one old couple sat perfectly
positioned in rocking chairs on their front porch. Norman
Rockwell meets Stephen King. And all of them looked like
they had bled to death from their noses.I think I decided
right then, that I wasn't staying here. Not where 'the red
death held sway over all'.

There had to be other people somewhere. There had to be
somewhere else to be. Anywhere but here. I wasn't even sure
I could stay another night at the cabin now. Not knowing
that all this was so close. I went into Sunrift Adventures,
the upscale outfitter store at the end of the street, and
picked out a dark purple mountain bike, with saddle bags
behind the seat and a water bottle.

I debated on leaving money in the cash register for it, but 
decided there was no point. They could sue me, if anyone was 
alive to care. I added a tiny two man pup tent, a sleeping
bag, and a backpack to my stolen goods, before I continued
on to the grocery store.

I recognized the same check-out girl I had chatted with 
just a few days ago, slumped over the same register. 
That was as far as I got. I'm not sure if the smell was 
from the corpses, or from the spoiled meat in the counter, 
but my stomach couldn't take it. I retched my way back
outside  to my bike. Gasping in great lungfuls of air to
steady myself.

Screw it. The outfitter store had hiking supplies. 
Dehydrated food. I could deal with that for now.

I stocked up on anything and everything I could find, 
wondering why I even ventured on from here in the first
place. I filled both saddle bags, and strapped the tent down
over them. The backpack I saved for my clothes.  

I'd lost my desire to go poking around town anymore.
Back home, I boiled water from the lake to make myself some
instant soup, and decided what to do next. Staying here
wasn't an option.

I had to find other people.

I got my atlas out of the car, and thumbed through it as I
ate. St. Louis was the first step. To find my family. One
step at a time was all I could do. I'd leave a note, on the
off chance that someone should show up here, but it didn't
seem likely. I slept on the couch that night, or tried to,
but the images from Sunrise haunted my dreams.

Two days later I rolled into St. Louis. The ride up had been
an experience. One I'd like to forget. Unfortunately, I
can't erase sections of my memory.

Highway forty-four was a nightmare of wrecked cars and
bloated bodies. Outside of Jefferson City, I rode into a
truck stop, and snagged a blue bandana from a rack by the
counter, tying it over my face. It helped a little with the
smell. 

I spent my nights at empty hotels along the way,
too creeped out to camp near the highway. For some reason, 
I'd thought St. Louis would be different than Sunrise Beach, 
but it wasn't. If anything, it was worse. I rode past
Crestwood, Shrewsbury, and Maplewood as I headed home
to Richmond Heights. 

I think my sense of smell had become accustomed to the
stench of death, but my sense of sight never would.
I still turned my eyes away from corpses as quickly as I
could.

I sped up as I turned onto Fair Oaks. With it's manicured
lawn, and carefully groomed hedges, Dad's house looked
immaculate as always. But just like the others on the
street, it was motionless and silent. Still, I couldn't keep
myself from dropping the bike, and running to the back door.

"Daddy?" I called as I flung it open.

There was no answer. 

In my heart, I knew there wouldn't be. I found him in the
den, slumped on the floor. I sank to my knees in the
doorway, and cried.

Afterward, I buried him in the backyard, and left home for
the last time.

I didn't know where else to go, so I biked down Market
Street. My brothers all lived in this area, but I didn't
want to go look for them. If they were alive, I reasoned,
they'd have already been to  Dad's house and he wouldn't
have been lying in a heap on the den floor.

I stopped at Kauffman Park, and sat down on a bench. 
I looked up at the bright stars over head. With no city
lights to outshine them, they were beautiful.

Finally, I pulled myself up off the bench. The Omni Majestic
hotel was on the other side of the park. It would be as good
as anywhere else tonight. I reached for my bike, and heard
something that stunned me.

"Federal Agent. Don't move!" A man's voice came from
behind me. I froze in place like a statue, more from
surprise than from the order.

"Are you armed?" He demanded.

"No," my voice sounded ragged and strained.

"Turn around slowly," his tone was softer now, and I turned
to face him.

He was half hidden in shadow, and I couldn't make out any
features other than his height. We stared at each other for
a long moment.

He wore jeans and a light leather jacket over a plain gray
tee shirt. Not exactly how I pictured a Federal Agent to
look, but I wasn't about to argue.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Kari Chandler." He stepped forward, tucking his pistol
away.

"Are you alone?"

I hesitated before nodding.

"You are the first person I've seen alive since May 26th." 
I had to stifle a giggle. I don't know if it was relief, 
or insanity that brought it to my lips.

"Where did you come from? How did you survive?" His voice
was a mixture of curiosity and something I couldn't define.

No doubt he was a fed; all he did was ask questions.

"Look," I sighed, rubbing my face with one hand, "I don't
have any problem answering your questions, but can we do
this sitting down somewhere? I'm tired. I buried my father
today."

"I'm sorry," his voice lowered, and his tone was sincere.

"I was about to go to that hotel," I pointed across the
park. "I've got a million questions to ask you too. Want to
do the Missouri inquisition there?"

I saw a flash of a smile in the darkness as he said, "That
happens to  be where I'm staying too." I chuckled as I
reached for the handle bars of my bike.

"By the way," I said casually, as I we started across the
concourse.

"You might have to arrest me, Agent..."

"Mulder. Fox Mulder. Why?" His eyes shifted down to me
suddenly.

"Because I stole this bike," I grinned at his seriousness.

"That's Okay, I stole the one parked in front of the hotel. 
I won't tell if you won't."

"Fair enough," I laughed, something I thought I'd never do 
again, let alone with another living person.


The lobby of the Omni was huge. But after lighting a few 
candles next to group of sofas, it was almost pleasant. 
That's when I got a decent look at him. Tall and lanky, 
big nose that some how looked right on his face. Hazel 
eyes with dark circles under them. An honest face, maybe 
not open, but not the face of a mad man. A face I felt I
could trust.

"I'm about to starve," I said. "Mind if I make something 
to eat while we talk?"

"No, I need to eat something myself. Be right back." 

He went out the glass door, and unstrapped a small, 
red, cooler from the rack on his bike..

I lit a can of sterno, and started some water boiling. 
I picked through my dwindling selection of dehydrated 
food, selecting beef stroganoff this time. I was really 
getting tired with the stuff, but it was easy to carry on a
bike. And beggars can't be choosers.

"Want a beer?" He asked when he returned.

"Please." 

He handed me one.

"Wish I could say they were cold." He sighed, settling 
onto one of the sofas.

"Wish I could say it mattered," I grinned. "Right now, a
beer is a beer."

I raised the can in salute, before taking a long drink. 
I opened the packet and dumped the contents into the 
boiling water. I sat on the floor next to it as it started
to cook.

"Want me to go first, or you?" I asked, as he opened a
pack of cheese sandwich crackers.

"You." He nodded taking another swig of his beer. I told him
my story. The cabin, the news, or rather the lack there of.
The trip into Sunrise Beach. The trip here. Burying my
father. He listened, never once interrupting. His mouth a
grim line. I wondered if he'd buried someone too.

"So, that's how I ended up here." I finished. "Your turn
Fox."

"Mulder. No body calls me Fox. I hate it."

"Sorry," I mumbled, through a mouthful of food.

"I was in Kansas City, helping the Violent Crimes Section
with a serial rapist case, when the shit storm of
all time hit. After the EMP, people started dropping 
dead left and right..."

"EMP. Electromagnetic pulse?" It finally clicked into place
for me. That's what happened to all the electronics.

"I'm not completely sure that's what it was, but it had 
the same effect. Anything with a computer chip was rendered
useless. But I think it was also what killed everyone. That
doesn't make much sense, EMP shouldn't be fatal, but it's
all I can come up with right now. I was at the airport.
Trying to get a flight back to DC. But not getting anywhere.
All flights were on hold. I was watching the news, and
trying to call a friend, when everything just died. The
lights, the TVs, the phones. And then people started
screaming."

He paused, and I noticed the look on his face. He wasn't
remembering it, he was reliving it.

"At first, I thought it was from panic. The lady that was
sitting next to me fell across my lap. I thought she had
fainted, so I picked her up and carried her outside. That's
when I saw her face. Her nose was pouring blood... 
I remember  it had soaked her clothes, and mine. She was
already dead."

"When I went back in, the terminal smelled like a slaughter
house, and no one was screaming anymore. There wasn't anyone
left alive to scream...."

He trailed off, and I let him. I was suddenly glad that I
had been alone when it happened.

"So why not us?" I asked after giving him a moment. He
jerked, startled at my words. I think he'd zoned out.

"I don't know," he shook his head looking at the empty can
in his hand, and reaching into the cooler for another.

"We can't be the only ones, right?"

"I hope not," his voice was heavy with sadness. I sat
quietly thinking, until he spoke again. Letting him take his
time.

"I'm going on to DC. I have to see if my partner is all
right. I tried to call, but I never got through."

He seemed to be weighing his words.

"Kari, I think you should go with me. I can't leave you here
alone, you're not even carrying a weapon. I think it would
be safer if we stayed together."

"I think you're right. And I don't want to be alone." 

My voice cracked, and I couldn't help it, but I think he
understood.

"I don't know what we'll find there. It might be just as bad
as here..."

"I know," I nodded. "But honestly, just to have someone to
talk to. To hear another voice, and know someone else is
alive..."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the floor.

"When do you want to leave?"

"Tomorrow. Pick up a few extra supplies, then head east on
sixty four."

I pulled out my atlas and spread is across a small table. 

Mulder brought one of the candles, and looked over my
shoulder. I traced sixty four with my finger.

"Mt. Vernon is eighty two miles. Think we can make that 
in one day, if we get an early enough start?" I said
checking the mileage chart.

"I don't know. It depends on how much stalled traffic
 there is on the way."

"Mm. Good point. But I made one hundred and thirty miles in
two days, and there was a lot of traffic to weave around."

"Do you have a tent?" He asked, still looking over my
shoulder.

"Yeah, but I haven't used it yet. It was too spooky to camp
near the highway by myself. I stayed in empty motels along
the way."

I closed the atlas and rolled it up, tucking it back into 
my saddle bag, I could feel him watching me.

"I need to get a set of those." Mulder said as I came 
back carrying my sleeping bag.

"We can check the bike shops tomorrow." I suggested. 

"Right now though, I'm about to fall asleep with my eyes
open. Are you sleeping in a room, or right here?"

"Probably here." He pointed to the sofa he was sitting on.

"Mind some company?" I gestured to the one across from him.

"Not in the least." He grunted, as he stretched out on his
couch.

I rolled out my sleeping bag, and blew out the two candles 
closest to me. I was out like a light, and sleep
dreamlessly, till Mulder screamed us awake near dawn.



"Scullllyyyy!"

I fought the tangled sleeping bag, finally breaking free of
it.  I fumbled to light a candle, getting it on the second
try.

"Sculllyyy!" 

He sat bolt upright on the couch, his chest heaving. 

"Mulder you ok?" I looked around, seeing no one other than
ourselves.

"Yeah. Just a bad dream," he gasped, his face shiny with
sweat in the dim light.

"You sure?" I asked, getting my water bottle from the 
table and taking it to him.

"Thanks." He took a long drink from it, and then 
drew a ragged breath.

I was wide awake and knew there was no chance of going back
to sleep, but at least I felt rested.

"Sorry about that," he said, after he'd settled down a
little more.

"No problem. I've had some harsh ones myself since all this
happened. But you're one hell of an alarm clock."

He didn't even crack a smile and I felt like an idiot for my
remark.

"I've had bad dreams even before all this. Guess I should
have warned you."

His tone was apologetic, and that made him seem vulnerable
somehow.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No. I just want to forget it," he shook his head, as if it
could erase the nightmare from his mind.

I left him in peace, and sat back watching the dim gray
light of early morning creep in the through the windows.

After a while, I excused myself and found a bathroom to
clean up in. Once I had washed, and changed into fresh
clothes, I was anxious to get moving. St. Louis held nothing
for me anymore. Nothing but old memories. Shadows of the
past.

Back in the lobby I could see Mulder was packing up his
stuff.

"Glad I'm not the only one anxious to get moving."

"I've got to get to DC. I'm going to push hard to get us
there as fast as I can, Kari."

"I know. I'm up for it, trust me." I said, stowing my
sleeping bag and gear onto my bike rack.

We biked out of St. Louis that morning, after finding Mulder
a set of saddle bags for his bike. We got lucky on the first
shop we tried. We restocked our dehydrated food, and rode
across the Mississippi river and onto interstate sixty four.

It was June third, and if you only looked at the crystalline 
sky above us, the world was perfect. But if your gaze
drifted down to the death and destruction that surrounded
us, we were in hell.


end part 1


^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Fides Procuro
by Kelly Moreland

part 2



We made it to Louisville late on the afternoon of June 6th, 
and stopped by the welcome sign to take a drink. The past
couple of days had been grueling, but not as grueling as
solitude. Mulder had nightmares every night, and woke us up
screaming, usually for Scully. He eventually told me she was
his partner.

I was burning with curiosity about her, but not willing to
push for the answers. They'd come in time. I had nightmares
of the silent type. The young girl in a tank top lying on
the sidewalk in Sunrise Beach. The old couple sitting
serenely in their rocking chairs. Endless highways
filled with cars full of bodies, rotting and bloating in the
sun. A woman in a business suit sprawled next to a gas pump,
at some nameless station. And without speaking, or even
moving, each was an accusatory question of why us, and not
you. 

You see, I had my own nightmares.

"Wanna make a bet on the winner of the next Kentucky Derby?" 
Mulder asked, grinning wryly and running a hand through his
hair. I'd come to like his understated and quirky sense of
humor.

He passed me the water bottle.

"It wouldn't be fair to you," I replied with a deadpan
expression. "I already know who's going to win."

"Nobody?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yep," I grinned, swinging back on to my bike and peddling 
away from him.

"Kill joy," he pouted, catching up to me.

"Sore loser" I laughed back at him. A single gunshot cracked 
through the air, and we dove off the bicycles. I landed hard
sliding across the rough black-top, feeling pebbles and grit
from the road digging into my flesh.

"C'mon!" Mulder hissed, tugging at me and pointing 
to a gully by the road.

I didn't want for a second invitation. I belly-crawled into
the ditch as he followed, his pistol drawn.

"Are you hit?" He glanced over me quickly.

"No, but my knees hate me right now," I grimaced, looking at
the rips on my jeans.

He was peering over the edge of the ditch. 

"Did you see where the shot came from?" He whispered, still
glancing over the edge.

"No idea," I whispered back. We stayed still and quiet for a
few minutes, but heard nothing.

"Stay here. I'm going to circle around, see if I can find
anything. Just wait here, okay?"

I nodded, and he moved down the gully, crouching low. 
He stopped in front of a drain pipe that ran under the
roadway. He looked inside it, glanced back at me, then
disappeared into it.

I waited. 

And waited. 

After fifteen minutes, I was about ready to go looking for
him, when I heard footsteps on the asphalt above me. I
flattened myself against the bank, and looked for anything I
could use as a weapon. I picked up a rock the size of my
fist, and clenched it tightly in my hand. It would have to
do.

"Are you going throw that at me?" Mulder asked.

I whirled, and saw him standing on the roadside above my
head.

"Jesus, man!" I swore, throwing the rock back into the
ditch. "Idiot that I am, I assumed you'd be coming back the
same way you left, so yes! You almost got beaned in the
head!" I yelled at him indignantly.

"You can come out. It's ok now. But I don't think we should
hang around here too long." He looked somewhat amused at me.

"Why, what did you find?" I took his extended hand, and
climbed out of the ditch. He tossed me a rifle shell.

"It's from thirty-thirty. They were close, real close. I
think it was a warning. Let's take it and move on."

I looked at the brass casing in my hand, and agreed, before 
tossing it to the ground.

"Your knees ok?" He asked, looking at the rips in my jeans.

"My knees are in better shape than my nerves right now.
Let's just get out of here."

We rode hard and straight through Louisville, not stopping
or even speaking until we were past the city limits. I
pointed out a sign that said Shelbyville ten miles.

"Stop there tonight?"

"As long as no one shoots at us," he grunted.

It was full dark by the time we found a hotel that was close
to the interstate.

Mulder, insisted on checking out the rooms, before letting
me in. He has an over developed sense of chivalry. But maybe
that's not such a bad thing. I'd walked into a room on my
way to St. Louis, and found a cleaning lady on the floor.
I'd assumed that since the key was at the desk, it
would be vacant, but housekeepers have a master key. 

"These two are empty," He nodded, coming back from his 
inspection. I wheeled my bike into one of the rooms, and he
took the other. He always picked rooms with adjoining doors.

At first it had made me nervous, but I was comfortable with
it now; it made me feel safer. I sat down on the bed and
groaned, nice soft bed. I'd sleep good tonight.

I rooted out a couple of candles, and lit them. Placing them
on the table by the bed. Mulder came in carrying water and a
hand towel.

"Let me see your knees," He said, sitting on the edge of the
bed. I sat up and rolled up my pants legs. They were pretty
scraped up; with grit and dirt crusted in the gashes.

"They aren't too bad. I don't think I need stitches."

He uncapped the bottle in his hand, and began pouring water
over one of the scrapes. I couldn't help laughing.

"What's so funny? I know I'm not a doctor, but I can clean
up a cut." He actually sounded hurt.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, "I don't think anyone
has bandaged a scraped knee for me in twenty years. Not
since I was about eight years old. It just struck me funny,
made me remember my mom."

"Oh," he said softly. 

"She died of ovarian cancer when I was ten. Dad, Russell,
Danny and Scott raised me after that." I shut up, realizing
that I was rambling.

"My mom died last year," He said after a quiet pause. 

"She had cancer too, but she ended it early." That
implication hit me hard, and I winced inwardly.

"I take it she was terminal?" I asked softly. He nodded, and
started on the other knee. I didn't know what else to say
for a minute.

"Tell me about your partner?" As soon as I uttered the
words, I regretted it. He froze in place, and I started
mentally smacking myself for the look of pain that creased
his brow.

He cleared his throat, started washing my scrapes again,
then spoke.

"What do you want to know?" His tone was maybe an octave
above a whisper.

"How long have you been partners?" Too late to turn back
now, I thought, plunge on.

"Almost ten years." A ghost of a smile crossed his face.

"Jeeze. You two must have been through a lot together," I
hoped I wasn't pushing too far.

"Hell, high water, life, death. You know, the usual," he
chuckled grimly.

"She must be a good friend," I grinned.

"She's my best friend." Something in the way he said it made
me feel his sadness.

"Do you love her?" His head snapped up, and his eyes met
mine.

"Very much," he said, and then as an after thought he added.
"But we aren't lovers."

That surprised me. The way he called her name out at night,
they way he spoke softly and longingly about her. It sounded
like a lot more than just friendship.

"Ever think about crossing that line?" 

He was finished with my knees, and now he sat back on the
floor, leaning back against the other bed.

"Many times. We even talked about it once. But we both
agreed it wasn't professional, and that it was a line we
weren't prepared to cross." His eyes had taken on a glassy
distant aspect.

"And you're regretting that now?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. I could hear the pads of 
his fingers rasping against his five o'clock shadow in the
stillness.

"Maybe," He mused after a length of time had passed. I
nodded, and got up from the bed.

"Thanks Doc," I winked at him. "I feel as good as new." 

I went to my bike and opened up the saddle bags, mulling
over the options for dinner.

"Hungry?" I called to him. He didn't answer, so I turned to
see why. He sat in the same position, but he looked lost. I
left the food packets and walked over, squatting in front of
him.

"Hey," I prodded softly.

He turned his face to me, and my heart clenched at the tears
in his eyes.

"Don't do this, Mulder." I urged.  "Don't start thinking
that chances are past, and doors are closed, until you know
for sure." I reached out, squeezing his shoulder. He
struggled to swallow an almost visible lump in his throat.

"To be your partner, she has to be strong. And if she's
strong, then she's probably there in DC waiting for you. 
You have to have faith. Faith manages. It sustains us in the
hour when reason tells us we cannot continue, and that our
lives have no meaning. You have to believe."

Our eyes locked again, his were bright with a sudden
fierceness I didn't understand. But I knew that I had struck
a cord somehow.

"Yeah, you're right. Never underestimate the will of a red-
head." He looked more focused now.

"Oh man. My roommate in college was a red-head." I laughed.
"The best way to describe Renee was like this. Imagine ten
pounds of dynamite, crammed into a five pound bag. That was
Renee."

He chuckled softly, sounding almost normal again. 

I mentally patted myself on the back.

"Did you mention food?" He grinned at me.

Yep, he was himself again.


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We put the incident in Louisville behind us and trekked on. 
Mulder insisted on traveling easy for the next couple of
days, because of my skinned and bruised knees. I argued with
him, but it was useless. The man has an iron will. So it
took us four days to make it across Kentucky and into West
Virginia.

Which we promptly renamed the too-many-fucking-mountains-to-
bike-across state.

We sat in a couple of rooms in a motel in Huntington,
arguing.

We were doing that a lot lately, and getting good at it. It
was really more like a debate, than an argument.

"If we can find a car, made before the seventies, we might
have a chance of getting it to start. Before the seventies
they didn't have electronic ignition." He said
after we had eaten dinner.

"Well. We are in one of the most red-neck states in the
union. We probably have a good chance of finding one." I
said sarcastically.

"Aw c'mon Kari. You never know, the red-neck brute of your 
dreams might be in them thar woods." He teased.

"I've decided I should get myself a gun." I stated. "Just so 
I have the option of shooting you for crap like that." I
smiled sweetly at him, and got the hurt puppy look.

I swear, I think he'd patented the expression. That, and
pouting.

"We can try it, but I choose to remain dubious." I said, 
returning to the subject.

"Tomorrow we'll look around, so what we find. It'll take us
forever to bike these mountains."

"I think you just want to go country, and ride around in an
old rusted pick up truck." I quipped.

"Damn. You found me out," he sighed with mock despair.

"A truck would be better. With a truck, we can take our
bikes. When it runs out of gas, we can use them," he said,
serious again.

"Why not," I shrugged.

I learned an important lesson the next day. Mulder found a
pre nineteen seventies truck, not only pre seventies, but a
gorgeous, light blue, fifty two model pick up. And the damn
thing started right up.

The lesson? There's nothing worse than Mulder when he's 
right. Smug doesn't even come close to covering it.

We laid our bikes down in the back, and rode out of
Huntington in style.

I swear he was even enjoying it. He sat behind the wheel, 
with an open bag of sunflower seeds nestled between his
thighs, grinning and rubbing in the fact that he was right.

"Just listen to that engine," he smiled smugly.

"Yeah, it runs good. You were right. But you suck with that 
gear shift on the column," I countered. "Poor truck won't
have any transmission left by the time you are done with
it."

"Sore loser," He muttered, still grinning, and flicked a
shell at me. I bated it away, and shook my head at him.

"Just drive, Jeeves." I smiled, leaning back and closing my
eyes. I wasn't really tired. I'd been sleeping good the past
few nights.

Mulder had too. His nightmares had left him peace it seemed. 

He was happy to be driving I think. I'd occasionally hear
him humming low under his breath.

That truck took us all the way through West Virginia before
finally running out of gas in Front Royal. Virginia. I know
he hated to leave it.

"You aren't going to kiss the damn thing, are you?" I teased
as he straddled his bike and looked back at it sitting by
the road.

"Aren't you going to miss riding, instead of riding?" He
asked, gesturing down at his bike to emphasize the
difference.

"Yeah, I am, and it was a great truck. It suited you. If you
find some cans of gas, you can always come back for it
later."

"I might do that." he commented, as we started peddling. We
were less than a hundred miles from DC now, and his
enthusiasm was building.

I just hoped he found what he was looking for. I really did.



On June 12th, we rode into Georgetown, this was his
territory, so to speak, so he led the way. We went straight
to Scully's apartment. 

At the door, Mulder knocked, and waited. There was no
answer.

He dug into his jeans pocket, and pulled out his key ring. 
He stared at it in his palm, as if memorizing each line and
groove on its surface.

I had a pretty good idea of what was going through his mind. 
What he might find inside. I gently laid my hand over his, 
and slid the key from his grasp.

"Why don't you wait here?"

"I should be the one to go in..." He objected.

"No. You shouldn't." I shook my head. "Just wait here." 

I placed my palm flat against his chest, and pushed him back 
a few steps. Then I turned around and unlocked the door. 

I closed it behind me after I went in. The apartment didn't 
have the closed up smell of decay. That was a good sign, 

I thought as I went room by room. Kitchen. Living room. 
Bathroom. Bedroom. Then I went back the door and opened it. 

He stood in the hallway, chewing on his thumbnail.

"It's empty," I said cautiously. I stepped back and watched 
him go through each room just as I had done.

"Her purse, and some of her clothes are missing, I think."
He said with a deep sigh.

"So where would she go?" 

"Her mothers house most likely."

"Then that's where we need to go." I stated evenly.

"I want to stop at my apartment first. Pick up a few
things," he said. I think he was stalling, but I didn't
mention that fact.

We biked over and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. 
As soon as we came out of the stairwell, Mulder stopped dead
in his tracks.

"What is it?"

"There's something stuck to my door." He walked with 
long strides down the hallway, and ripped a folded piece of 
paper from the door of apartment 42.

"Well? What is it? Is it from Scully?" I asked, as he 
opened it and cocked his head.

"It's a map." He turned it around and showed it to me. 

It was a xeroxed map of the united states, the detail 
wasn't very good, but next to several cities were numbers 
in red. There was a one just below Jefferson City Missouri. 
There was a one next to Louisville Kentucky. There was a 
one next to Washington DC.

"A map of survivors?" I asked in disbelief.

"I think so," he said, and the raised the map to his nose
and inhaled.

"Does that smell like cigarette smoke to you?" He asked, 
holding it out to me. I cocked an eyebrow at him, 
but sniffed it anyway.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Maybe a little." 

He folded the map up quickly.

"We need to hurry," he said, opening the door.

Mulder grabbed some things, stuffed them into a 
roll bag and hustled us out the door. 

It took us an hour to get to Scully's mothers home, and he
hadn't spoken since we left his apartment, and I could tell
something was wrong.

We stopped in front of a white house on a tree lined avenue. 
He knocked on the front door a few times, before trying the
knob.

It was locked. We walked around the house, and he headed 
for the back door, but I saw something that made me call out
to him.

"Mulder." I said staring into the yard.

"Yeah?" He was knocking on the back door, and twisting the
knob in his hand.

"I think she's been here." He was beside me in a second, 
staring at the same thing I was. By the back fence, there 
was a grave. We walked over to it slowly. On a flat rock 
the words 'Margaret Scully' were painted in white.

"Her mother?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," he turned abruptly and strided to where our bikes
were parked.

"There's only one other place I know to look." He said as 
raced I catch up with him.

"Where?"

"Our office."

It was almost impossible to keep up with him, but I managed.
Barely.

When we reached the federal building, he leaped off the bike
and let it crash to the ground.

"Mulder!" I yelled, as he sprinted toward the entrance. 

He slowed, but I still had to run to catch up with him
again. His legs were a lot longer than mine. I would have
been lost in the twisting, turning, hallways in seconds.
After one final turn he came to a stop. I peered around him,
but the hallway was empty.

"Scully?!" He yelled loudly. Silence answered him. He
hesitantly took a step, then another, passing each doorway
until there was only one left.

"Scully?" He called out again.

"Mulder?!" We both spun around because the voice came from
the opposite end of the hallway. I looked at a petite
redhead, a couple of inches shorter than myself, and knew
she had to be Scully. My throat tightened, as I watched both
their faces. Shock, fear, joy, pain, and love each had their
brief unguarded moment.

Her hand came up and covered her mouth, which was hanging
open.

Mulder stood, rooted to the spot.

"Go," I hissed at him, and yet he still stood there. "Go
damn it," I said louder.

He bolted, and she met him halfway. He scooped her up in his
arms, laughing and crying at the same time, kissing her
lips, her forehead, her eyes, as she did the same. At that
moment, I didn't even exist on this planet, let alone in
that hallway. And I didn't mind.

I wouldn't have done a thing to interrupt this. That kind of
love isn't something you see everyday.

I realized then, that I was crying.

"I thought you were dead." She cried, her voice raw but
still audible in the stillness.

"You've thought that before," he smiled, letting her body
slide along the length of his back to the floor.

"How..?" She started, but he placed his finger over her
lips, silencing her.

"Later. Right now, I just need to look at you. I need to 
feel you." He took both her hands in his. "And I need to 
know that you are okay." His voice was cracking with the
force of his emotions.

"I'm ok Mulder. I'm fine." They both laughed at something I
didn't quite get.

"Going to introduce me?" She asked, looking past him to me. 

I smiled, and wondered if she knew how lucky she was. I
think she did.

He let go of one hand, but wouldn't release the other. 
His fingers firmly interlocking with hers. They walked up
to where I was still standing. I wiped my eyes, and took a
breath.

"Dana Scully, this is Kari Chandler, a good friend I made on
the long road home."

"Hi Kari." She smiled at me.

"Hi Dana. You don't have any idea how good it is to finally
meet you."

I said in all sincerity, shaking her hand as she offered it.
I looked up at Mulder.

"Faith manages." I said smiling warmly.

"Faith manages." He agreed.



Fini~


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