Title: Life from the Ashes  -- Prequel
Author: Jo B.
E-mail address: PurpleFox7@aol.com
Rating: R
Keywords: M/Sk M/K UST  SLASH
    
Disclaimer: The X-Files characters Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Alex 
Krycek, Walter Skinner, Jeffrey Spender, CSM, the Lone Gunmen, 
Kimberly Long, Col. Calvin Henderson, Senator Matheson, Bill 
Scully, Mrs. Mulder, Mrs. Scully etc. are the property Chris Carter, 
1013 productions and Fox Broadcasting.  All other characters in the 
series are mine.
   
Summary: This is an Alternative Universe Story.  The consortium has 
been exposed and shortly after the aliens unleash a lethal virus on the 
earth that has devastating effects.
    
Authors Notes: This is the prequel to my AU series. "Life from the 
Ashes."
    
I would like to thank my beta-readers Laurie, BRS, and Kiyoko for 
all their hard work and patience in editing this story and plot 
suggestions.
    
Constructive feedback is always welcome.  Any story suggestions are 
appreciated. 
     
WARNING!  This story contains UST between two men, turn back 
now, if the subject matter offends you.  
    
Okay to Archive: please ask first.
       
Website: Website: 
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Comet/2234/index.html
            
***
    
Life from the Ashes - Prequel
         
Reflection Pool
Thursday, January 2
1:00 p.m.
          
Mulder leaned back on the park bench huddling deeper into his long, 
black, woolen overcoat.  His hands were buried deeply within its 
pockets against the bitter chill of the midwinter day.  He gazed out 
over the frozen winter landscape.  Last night there had been a two-
inch snowfall that repainted the brown drab ground a pristine white.
           
He felt physically and mentally drained from the previous month's 
momentous events.  After a mountain of evidence and hundreds of 
arrests, they had finally achieved what Scully and he had worked 
many long years to prove, and the global conspiracy against the 
population of earth was finally busted wide open and the imminent 
invasion by a race of hostile aliens exposed.  The case was garnering 
a lot of press coverage and there were thousands of protesters daily 
outside of the nation's Capital.  However, a large portion of the 
public still wouldn't or couldn't believe the reports.  The feared 
public panic didn't happen.  Mulder wondered if it would have made 
a difference if the public knew that this was the year that the aliens 
had chosen to start their invasion.
         
He sighed inwardly; endless days of testimony before the Senate had 
left him exhausted.  He needed to get away from the crush of 
reporters and from Congress and their endless questions that left his 
head aching.  He spent the last forty-eight hours pouring through 
boxes of evidence seized recently from one of the main research labs 
of the consortium, finding additional information on collaborators 
within the military and upper echelons of government.  Mulder's 
main search was for more information on the alien virus and a 
possible cure, it continued to elude him -- he knew that time was 
running out.
       
A shadow fell across him startling him out of his thoughts.
          
"Agent Mulder."  Skinner brushed the remaining snow off the bench, 
settling his larger frame next to Mulder's on the park bench, their 
thighs and shoulders touching.
       
"Sir, how did you find me here?"  Mulder asked, feeling the 
comforting warmth of the other man's body pressed closely to his, 
shielding that part of him from the cold January air.
         
"I followed you here from the Hoover building," he replied gruffly.
           
"Why?  Is there something you need?"
          
"Agent Mulder, I would like you to take a few days off.  You've been 
working non-stop for the past month, it's not healthy," Skinner 
advised softly, he had noted the dark shadows under the agent's eyes 
and his overall haggard appearance.
       
"With all due respect, sir, I don't need you to nursemaid me," Mulder 
snapped bitterly.  
         
"Agent Mulder, you can't go on doing everything by yourself.  I've 
assigned a team of agents to help you.  Let them!"  Skinner growled.
       
"Sir, I don't trust anyone except Scully and you.  How can you expect 
me to turn over vital evidence to . . . these agents?"
        
"Mulder, I handpicked these men and I even did the background 
checks myself.  Agents Sullivan, Pipino, Boutotte, and Underwood 
are all above-board!  Mulder, trust me, there is no way that I would 
assign another consortium spy to work with you," Skinner replied, 
exasperated.  
        
"Even so, at this stage in the game I don't want to chance it." 
          
"Damnit, Mulder, at this stage of the game is the perfect time!  
They've been exposed!  The evidence is out before the public, they 
cannot hide it any longer -- you have won," Skinner argued.  "Now I 
don't want to see you in the office until Monday, is that clear?"
        
"Perfectly, sir," Mulder spat.  Pushing himself up off the bench, he 
angrily stormed back to the Hoover Building.  He'd just take the 
documents home with him and study them there.  He didn't trust the 
other agents even if Skinner did.
        
Skinner watched him sadly as he walked away.  The man could be 
absolutely infuriating; if he weren't so . . . Skinner quickly stopped 
that line of thought.  He'd have to make sure that Mulder didn't try to 
take any work home with him; he wouldn't put it past him.
        
***
       
Colorado
Secret Underground Military Installation
Saturday, January 4
9:00 a.m.
          
Colonel Calvin Henderson strolled purposely down the long corridor 
on his way to the war room, passing the two marines guarding the 
entrance to the room.  Inside was abuzz with activity.
         
"Colonel Henderson, sir, the deep space radar is picking up a large 
fleet of alien spaceships on course with earth," Captain Benton told 
him as he handed over the recent printouts of the fleet's trajectory and 
ETA.
         
"So, it finally begins."  Henderson smiled; he had been looking 
forward to this day for years.
          
The whole room became quiet as General Thomas entered.  He was 
an intensely intelligent man who instilled instant respect in those 
under his command.   Thomas was the new base commander, taking 
the place of General Watson who had been court-martialed on 
conspiracy and treason charges.  The general looked over the people 
in the room; he didn't know how many of them had been a part of the 
conspiracy, the investigation was still ongoing.  Although he 
suspected Henderson, there was no hard evidence against him.
        
"Sir." Henderson snapped to attention saluting the general, then 
handed him the latest printouts.
         
"Are our defenses ready?" General Thomas barked.
         
"Yes, sir.  Everything is in top working order."
         
"See that is stays that way, Colonel," he growled, turning to leave -- 
he needed to call the President and report the situation.
       
***
       
Mulder's Apartment 
Sunday, January 5
Noon
          
"I'm fine, Scully.  How's your mom?"  Mulder asked.  He leaned up 
against his kitchen counter, sipping a mug of coffee as he talked with 
her over his cell phone. 
          
"She sends her love, Mulder.  Bill, Tara, and the baby are here, we've 
been arguing non-stop about the existence of aliens.  I can't believe 
that I'm trying to convince my bullheaded brother that they really do 
existence," Scully chuckled, finding the situation absurd.
          
Mulder wandered over to the window, looking out at the sedan 
parked across the street.  "Skinner doesn't trust me, Scully.  He's 
assigned a team of agents to make sure I don't leave my apartment 
this weekend.  If I need anything I'm suppose to send them for it, can 
you believe the man's gall?"
         
"Mulder, Skinner only wanted you to take a few days off … you 
didn't have to cause a scene by trying to sneak out two large boxes of 
documents, it's your own fault.  Besides, he's been concerned about 
your safety, he thinks the consortium might try to get even with you."
         
"It's the principle of the whole thing, Scully!  I don't like him 
controlling what I do on my personal time."  He sank down on the 
sofa and flipped on the television while catching still talking to 
Scully.  He caught a few seconds of the basketball game before the 
game was interrupted by a special bulletin.
        
"Fuck!  Scully, turn on the television!"  Mulder shouted into the 
phone, his head swung toward the window as the air raid sirens 
started sounding outside.
          
The broadcaster was advising all residents not to panic and to go in 
an orderly manner to the nearest shelter.  
         
"Shelter, like hell," Mulder muttered.
       
"Oh my God, Mulder," Scully gasped over the connection.
         
"Scully, I think you'd better collect your family and head to a shelter.  
I'll talk to you later," Mulder said, ending the call.  He pulled on his 
running shoes then went to get his gun.
         
Walter Skinner was just turning the corner to Mulder's apartment 
building when the sirens sounded; flipping on his radio he heard the 
broadcast.  His heart rate increased and sweat broke out on his brow 
as he pulled to a stop in front of his agent's building.
          
Agents Sullivan and Underwood rushed over to meet him.  "Sir, is it 
true?  Are the aliens really attacking?"  Skinner stepped back to 
avoid the crush of people pouring out into the streets.
         
"Yes, it's true . . . " before he could continue, a young woman with 
two small children ran up to him.  
       
"Please, help me.  I don't know where to go," she begged.  More 
people stopped, noticing the men in dark suits and overcoats who 
were clearly government officials.
         
"Agents, show these people to the shelter on 4th and Hegel, I'm going 
to collect Agent Mulder, we'll meet you there," Skinner barked, 
racing into Mulder's building, he literally ran into his agent coming 
out of the stairwell.  
         
"Skinner, what are you doing here?"  Mulder gasped, extracting 
himself from his boss's arms after nearly running him over.
         
"Mulder, Agents Sullivan and Underwood are assisting your 
neighbors to the nearest shelter, we're meeting them there," Skinner 
hastened, forcibly grabbing Mulder's arm and dragging him out of the 
building.
        
"Sir, if you don't mind, you're tearing a hole in my leather jacket."
           
"Sorry," Skinner replied sheepishly, letting go of Mulder's arm.  The 
two men made their way down the street with Mulder leading the 
way.
       
"Don't you think we should head directly to the Hoover building?"  
Mulder asked, stopping across the street from the shelter and 
watching as a large crowd tried to force their way in and a fight broke 
out between two men.
       
"After we calm the situation here first," Skinner said, stepping into 
the fray, he forced the two men apart.
        
Mulder watched with a sense of pride as Skinner single handedly got 
the situation under control.  When a third man tried to cold cock the 
A.D. from behind, Mulder quickly pressed his gun into the man's 
back.  "I wouldn't if I were you," he snarled, taking the steel pipe out 
of the man's hand.
         
Agents Sullivan and Underwood were just coming out of the shelter.  
"Mulder, is this piece of shit giving you trouble?" Sullivan growled.
        
"No, but he did try to brain the A.D. with this piece of pipe . . . I 
think he should probably sit out the attack in a downtown jail cell," 
Mulder replied venomously. 
       
"No, please, you can't!  I was only trying to defend my brother-in-
law," the man pleaded near tears.
          
"You were trying to protect your brother-in-law by caving in the 
skull of an Assistant Director of the FBI!  Buddy, that was a really 
smart move," Sullivan snarled with contempt. 
       
"I didn't know who he was.  Please, I have a family, don't do this," 
the man groveled.
         
"Let him go," Skinner ordered.  The sidewalk was nearly empty; all 
of the people had gone into the shelter.
         
"Thank you," the man said, rushing past them into the shelter.
        
"We need to get back to the FBI and coordinate our efforts with the 
other government agencies.  Come along, Mulder, you're riding with 
me," Skinner said, rushing off down the road. 
       
Mulder glanced back at the other two agents, shrugging his 
shoulders; they all quickly followed Skinner toward their cars. 
       
***
      
"It's going to be okay, Tara," Bill Scully murmured to his wife as 
they drove in bumper to bumper traffic trying to make it to the 
nearest shelter.  Dana and Margaret Scully were in the backseat with 
Bill's son Matthew.
         
"Bill, head to the J. Edgar Hoover Building in D.C., there's a shelter 
in the sub-basement," Scully ordered, after realizing even if they got 
to a local shelter at this point it would probably be filled.  They were 
already heading in the direction of Washington D.C. anyway.
          
"Aliens?  Damn, Dana, that crazy partner of yours has been right all 
along," Bill grumbled.
       
"Bill, Mulder was never crazy.  Obsessed and paranoid, but never 
crazy."  She pulled out her cell phone to call him.
         
"Mulder."
        
"It's me.  Mulder, we're on our way to the Hoover Building, where 
are you?"
        
"I'm with Skinner, we're heading for the Hoover, too."  Mulder 
glanced over at the larger man driving.  "Scully, wouldn't it be better 
to seek a closer shelter?  It's going to take you at least an hour to 
make it here."
         
"Mulder, the traffic isn't nearly as heavy heading into D.C. as it is 
heading out.  I think too many people remembered what happened to 
D.C. in that movie 'Independence Day'," she joked.  "Besides, I want 
to be there with you." 
        
"Okay, Scully, we'll see you here," Mulder replied, disconnecting. 
     
"Damn, I thought we still had time.  Why are they attacking now?"  
Mulder swore angrily, wondering if exposing the consortium and 
their plans had anything to do with the early attack.
        
Skinner glanced over at him.  "Agent Mulder, you found the recent 
documents outlining this as the year that the invasion was to begin.  I 
doubt that the aliens would move up their timetable by a few months, 
what would be the point?  They had already lost the element of 
surprise."  The A.D. didn't know how the Earth was going survive an 
attack by a superior race.  He glanced at the beautiful man sitting 
next to him with deep regret . . . if he only had more time.
         
"I suppose you're right.  I just hope the Star Wars Defense Grid holds 
up against the attack," Mulder muttered.
         
"Defense grid?  Would you mind telling me just what the hell that 
is?" Skinner asked, pulling into Hoover's parking lot.
        
"Ronald Reagan, remember him?  He funded the project under the 
guise that it was a defensive shield against Soviet nuclear missiles.  
In actuality, it was a major defensive weapons grid to use against 
attacks from hostile aliens.  This planet is surrounded by satellites -- 
most of which house high powered laser canons."  Mulder unfolded 
himself from the front seat, climbing out of the car.
         
"Agent Mulder, I know what Star Wars was purported to be . . . just 
how did you find out about the details of this project?  I take it the 
defense grid was classified top secret," Skinner asked as they rushed 
into the Hoover Building followed closely by Sullivan and 
Underwood.
      
"Hey, it was on all the news programs in the early eighties . . . I'm 
surprised you never heard of it," Mulder smirked.
       
"Mulder, there was never anything about defense grids for hostile 
alien attacks on the news in the eighties."  Skinner's voice warned.  
"Out with it," he growled, stepping into the elevator.
        
Mulder shrugged his shoulders.  "I have my contacts, sir."  He gave 
the larger man a mischievous look.  "Do you want to know about our 
nation's advanced spaceships?"
         
Before Skinner could answer his cell phone chirped.  "Skinner."
        
"Yes, sir, I'm in the building now.  Okay, I'll be right up.  Agent 
Mulder?  He's standing beside me.  I see.  Very good, sir," Skinner 
disconnected, turning back to Mulder.  "The Director would like to 
see us up in his conference room.  He's on a video conference call 
with the President, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and several other 
government agencies."
       
***
      
Bill Scully pulled into the Hoover Building parking lot forty minutes 
later.  Dana Scully used her ID to get them through security and 
downstairs to the shelter where all nonessential personnel had gone.  
There were around seventy people in the large underground room 
that was built to hold five hundred.  It would have been filled if it had 
been a weekday.
       
"Mom, I'm going to find Mulder," Scully said, heading for the door.
        
"Dana, wouldn't it be safer for you to stay here?" Margaret Scully 
asked nervously, following her daughter to the reinforced iron doors.
         
"Mom, I'll be fine.  Go back and help Bill with Tara and Matthew," 
Scully replied, slipping out of the room.  She went up a flight of 
stairs that led from the subbasement to the basement.  She opened the 
door to hers and Mulder's office, finding it empty, then pulled out her 
cell phone and called her partner.
       
"Mulder," He answered in a hushed tone.
        
"It's me, where are you?"
        
"I'm in the Director's video conference room.  Where are you?" he 
whispered.
        
"In the basement, I'll be right up," Scully replied, disconnecting.
         
The Director's conference room was packed, all the upper echelon in 
the FBI were present.  She went to her partner's side, smiling 
inwardly as she compared him to the more conservatively dressed 
men in the room.  He looked drop dead gorgeous in his tight black 
jeans and a black pullover sweater, the black leather jacket was 
draped over the back of his chair completed his sexy ensemble.  The 
few days of forced rest had done him a world of good.
       
"Hey, partner." Mulder smiled up at her, he was about to offer her his 
chair when the Director spoke up.
        
"Agent Scully, good of you to join us, please take a seat with the 
other agents."  He motioned to the chairs along the wall where 
several of the bureaus senior agents sat.
      
"Yes, sir."  She stepped away from the conference table and took the 
chair directly behind Mulder.
        
A five-foot by ten-foot video screen at the front of the room showed 
the President and his Joint Chiefs, and at times, it switched over to 
the war room underneath the mountains in Colorado.  The room 
where the President's call was originating from appeared to be in an 
underground bunker.  Scully noticed the iron door when the camera 
panned over to Admiral Nelson. 
         
"The grid is holding," General Thomas informed the room.  A video 
camera mounted to one of the satellites showed a picture of one of 
the alien spaceships being disintegrated by a high powered laser.
         
The room exploded into cheers and relieved sighs.  Mulder sat 
perfectly still, he didn't join in the celebration.  He feared what would 
happen if even one of those ships were to make it through the grid.  
Then it happened, the General announced that four of the alien ships 
had made it through the shield.  The U.S. had launched their top-
secret fighters and the room held its breath.  Soon, the announcement 
came that all four alien ships had been destroyed.
       
"General Thomas, were the ships destroyed before they reached the 
planet's surface?"  Mulder asked.
          
"Agent Mulder, two crafts were destroyed in the mesosphere, but the 
other two crafts were shot down and crashed into populated areas," 
the General stated solemnly.  He was one of the few people privy to 
recent information about the alien virus uncovered by Agents Mulder 
and Scully.  The two agents had been instrumental in exposing 
several top military personnel involved with the consortium.  They 
were still in the process of housecleaning, but they had been 
successful in removing a large number of military personnel from key 
positions.
        
"We're going to need to quarantine those areas immediately.  
Absolutely no one within a ten mile radius of each site should be 
allowed to leave the area," Mulder replied, anxiously.  "Where did 
the ships go down?"
         
"One of the ships crashed in Beijing, China, and the other just 
outside of Denver.  Alien weapons hit four cities before they were 
shot down: Johannesburg, Rio de Janeiro, Berlin, and Istanbul."  
General Thomas informed them.
        
"Then those cities will have to be sealed off, too."  Mulder replied.
          
The President spoke up directing the Joint Chiefs.  "I want those 
cities and crash sites quarantined, send a team to China.  Contact 
NATO and the UN, we're going to need their troops to seal off the 
four cities that were hit in Europe, Africa, and South America."
        
"Agent Mulder, would you like to fill us in on just what is going on?" 
the Director asked.
        
"The aliens have developed a lethal virus, it was to be their first 
means of attack.  If it gets out into the general population it will have 
devastating effects," Mulder reported to a shocked audience.
          
"This is Doctor David Jacobson with the CDC.  Agent Mulder, just 
what does the virus do?" he asked, over the conference-phone.
          
"We haven't been able to find the consortium documents on the 
symptoms, yet.  Our information is all second hand.  We only know 
that it's supposed to kill an undesirable segment of the population and 
cause undefined mutations in the remainder.  The aliens want to turn 
the survivors into a slave race," Mulder answered.  Over the last few 
weeks, he and Scully had discussed what they knew about the virus.  
They both assumed that the undesirable segment mentioned by the 
alien rebel were the elderly and the infirm.
        
Stunned silence filled the room, broken only by the announcement 
from General Thomas.  "The aliens are pulling back -- we've won this 
round."  No one in the room cheered, their moods had turned solemn 
by Mulder's news.
         
The Director turned to Skinner.  "Walter, I want you and your agents 
to quadruple your efforts.  I'm reallocating funds and expanding the 
X-Files," he stated.  "Agent Mulder, as of this minute I'm promoting 
you to SAC.  You have full authority to use any means necessary to 
retrieve the data about this virus."
        
"Yes, sir," he replied.
       
***
       
FBI Hoover Building 
Friday, January 10
2:00 p.m.
          
It was five days after the alien attack and there was no sign that a 
virus had been release by the attacking ships.  Cleanup was still 
underway at the crash sites on Wednesday when the U.S. military 
released a detailed report of the attack to the press.  The Star Wars 
System had worked better than expected, destroying over half of the 
enemy ships.
        
The public was elated with the news, and celebrations had been 
going on since Wednesday evening.  Agents Mulder, Scully, and the 
X-Files had become household names as more light was shed on their 
six-year battle to expose the conspiracy.
         
"Hey, Scully.  Dateline called, they want to do a story on us," Mulder 
said, chuckling.
         
"Dateline, Sixty Minutes, Barbara Walters, Larry King . . . maybe we 
should flip a coin," Scully joked, enjoying their instant celebrity 
status.  No longer were they considered the Spooky brigade in the 
basement -- their peers now looked upon them with respect.
         
"No.  I vote for Donny & Marie," Mulder replied, grinning.
         
Scully grinned back.  "Are you going to attend the reception at the 
White House?"
        
"Unfortunately yes, Skinner isn't giving me a choice.  Otherwise, I'd 
be hanging out with the gunmen tomorrow night is stir-fry night . . . 
Frohike is going to be making Sichuan shrimp."
        
"Well, maybe we could go to the reception together," Scully 
suggested, casually.
        
"Dana Katherine Scully, are you asking me on a date?"  Mulder 
asked, pretending to be shocked.
        
"Mulder, it's only a suggestion -- if you prefer to go alone, fine," she 
snipped with annoyance.
         
"I'm not going alone.  I'm attending with Skinner, but you're welcome 
to join us."
         
"You're going with Skinner?  My, my, Mulder, I would have never 
guessed."
         
Mulder tossed a crumpled up sheet of paper at her.  "He wants to 
make sure I don't try to ditch," he replied annoyed, not knowing why 
her comment bothered him.
        
"Whatever.  I think I'll drive myself.  You know what they say, two's 
company but three's a crowd," she guffawed happily.
        
Mulder leveled her with a cold stare that quickly melted into 
mirthfulness.  "I wouldn't laugh, Scully, at least I have a date," he 
replied smugly.  He picked up the stack of file folders and put them 
into his briefcase then he headed for the door.  "I'm ducking out 
early, with any luck the reporters won't be camped out in front of my 
apartment building, yet."
          
"Bye, Mulder, see you tomorrow night."  
         
***
       
Mulder reread the document several times, he had always secretly 
hoped . . . and now he had concrete proof, that Alex Krycek had been 
working for the UN against the consortium.  He smiled at the thought 
of his ex-partner being on the side of truth and justice all along.  He 
still had questions that needed answers.  However, those would come 
as soon he found Krycek.  
      
He had always shut off the part of himself that was sexually attracted 
to other men, burying his desire deep inside.  That was until Krycek 
become his partner and he could no longer ignore those feelings of 
desire, but before he could act on his feelings the man had betrayed 
him.  He realized much later that he had started to fall in love with 
Krycek, which had enraged him even further.  That he had been 
foolish enough to allow the other man to steal such an important part 
of him.  Now deepest wish had come true, Krycek wasn't the 
murderous traitor that he always thought him to be, but he still 
needed to find out about his father's death and Scully's abduction.
         
The mere thought of the other man made him ache with desire, he 
pictured those beautiful green eyes, thick lashes, high cheekbones, 
and upturned nose -- the man was a work of art.  Mulder lowered his 
zipper and leaned back on the sofa he pulled his cock free.  It had 
swelled to its impressive ten inches as he imagined Krycek kneeling 
before him.  He remembered his sweet musky scent, the warmth 
coming off his body as he leaned in close.  Mulder closed his eyes 
imagining what the other man's hand would feel like on him, stroking 
him, claiming him.  The agent pumped harder, crying out as he came.  
Sagging back exhausted, sated.  He rubbed the sticky substance off 
his hand and onto his T-shirt.  He wondered what Scully would think 
if she knew that his favorite jerk-off fantasy included Alex Krycek.  
        
Mulder glanced at the tuxedo draped over the back of the chair 
across from him; it was still wrapped in its plastic dry cleaner bag.  
He was going to wear it tomorrow night when he went to the 
reception at the White House with Skinner.  He thought about his 
relationship with his boss as he tucked himself back into his pants.  
Mulder felt an attraction to him, but he refused to explore it any 
further, he wouldn't even allow himself to fantasize about the larger 
man.  He was too afraid, Skinner was his boss and his friend, and he 
didn't ever want to chance losing that friendship.  
         
Mulder stood and went over to his telephone; he wanted more 
information on Krycek's role as a covert operative for the United 
Nations.  "Langly, its Mulder.  I need a favor from you."
          
"Sure, Mulder, what's up?"
         
"I need you to get me some information on an UN employee.  He 
won't be in their normal database, his name is Alexei Krycek, 
employee number 7551013CU."
       
"You think Krycek is working for the UN?"  Langly asked surprised.
        
"I don't think it . . . I know it.  Oh, and Langly, do you think you can 
find out his current location, too?" he asked anxiously.
        
"Will do, Mulder, I'll get back to you with the information when I 
have it," Langly said, disconnecting the call.
        
Mulder went to take a shower, feeling completely contented; today 
was the best day he had had in years.  He no longer feared the 
imminent alien attack.  They had tried and failed -- the Earth's 
defenses proved too powerful.  The threat from the virus never 
happened, and now he had just found out about Krycek's innocence.  
Things were definitely looking up.
        
***
       
White House
Saturday, January 11
9:20 p.m.
          
Skinner kept his eyes on Mulder's lanky form throughout the evening.  
He had been surprised by his agent's appearance when he picked him 
up at his apartment a few hours ago -- Mulder positively glowed with 
happiness.  Skinner couldn't remember ever seeing him truly happy 
before, it made him even more beautiful.  The A.D. noticed that he 
wasn't the only one keeping an eye on Mulder -- several very 
attractive women and even a few men also had him in their sites.  He 
frowned when he saw another handsome man approach Mulder, but 
the agent quickly brushed him off.
       
Skinner wanted to tell Mulder how he felt about him, but he did not 
want to jeopardize their relationship by telling him that he was in 
love with him.  Skinner was positive the agent was straight; he had 
seen the way Mulder flirted with the women at the Bureau, and he 
never showed the slightest interest, that he knew of in men.  He 
would have to content with admiring the other man from afar.
         
"Sir, can we cut out of here now?"
          
Mulder's presence at his side startled Skinner; he had lost track of the 
agent over the last couple of minutes.  "Agent Mulder, it's still early, 
don't you want to stay and bask in the limelight a little longer?"
        
"No.  I've had enough limelight to last me the rest of my life.  I can't 
remember the last time that I was propositioned more in one evening.  
If you don't mind, sir, I really would like leave," Mulder said.
       
"If you really want to leave, okay," Skinner replied, slightly 
disappointed, he had enjoyed spending the evening in Mulder's 
company.
           
Mulder noticed the other man's disappointment.  "If you'd rather stay, 
sir, I could take a cab home."
           
"No, I'll take you.  Maybe we could stop for a quiet drink somewhere 
away from these vultures," the A.D. suggested, leading the way to the 
cloakroom.  A quiet drink with Mulder sounded very appealing.  
         
"Sure, I could go for beer."  Mulder smiled.
         
"Good, then maybe you can explain why you're so happy tonight." 
        
"What's not to be happy about?  I no longer have to convince people 
that aliens exist or that there was a global conspiracy working with 
them to enslave the human race.  In addition, both the aliens and the 
consortium lost," Mulder said, shrugging into his long overcoat.  He 
kept the information about Krycek's innocence to himself; he didn't 
think that Skinner would understand why that news had him elated.
          
"But you still haven't found out about what happened to your sister," 
Skinner replied, holding open the car door for Mulder.
           
Mulder waited for Skinner to climb into the driver's seat.  "Sir, it's 
only a matter of time, for now, I'm learning to appreciate the small 
victories."
         
"There was nothing small about your recent victories."
         
"Yeah, I just wish that smoking bastard hadn't disappeared.  I really 
wanted to nail his sorry ass to the wall," Mulder replied, glancing 
thoughtfully out of the car window.
         
"Stand in line, Mulder," Skinner growled.  "We'll track him down 
eventually."
        
"Yeah, right."
         
***
        
They were only at the bar for forty-five minutes when Mulder's cell 
phone chirped.  "Mulder."
         
Skinner watched as all the color drained out of his companion's face.  
He straightened and leaned forward, wishing he were telepathic so he 
could listen into his agent's conversation.  He had to settle for only 
hearing Mulder's strained replies.
        
"Okay, thanks, Frohike," Mulder disconnected the call after ten 
minutes, meeting Skinner's worried expression.
        
"That was a contact of mine, he's part of a watchdog group -- they 
have affiliates around the world.  They monitor all government and 
military communications," Mulder struggled at how much 
information he should tell Skinner.
          
Skinner frowned at the clearly illegal activities of his agent's 
contacts.  He'd let it go for now.  "Go on, Agent Mulder."
         
Mulder took a shaky breath.  "In the past twelve hours there have 
been unexplained deaths around the world.  All the deaths have been 
females . . . they range in age from infants to elderly women.  Sir, 
two villages in China have reported that the female population has 
been completely wiped out.  The deaths have been reported on every 
continent.  Thirty minutes ago, St. Mary's Hospital in Chicago 
reported that their female nurses, doctors, patients, and visitors had 
started dying . . . they were fine one minute and the next they started 
bleeding from every orifice."  Mulder took a sip of beer to clear his 
throat, his hand visibly shook.  "Sir, four female police officers who 
responded to the call . . . died within minutes upon their arrival.  
Their male partners weren't affected by whatever virulent they were 
exposed to."
        
"God."  Skinner face had gone white -- he quickly pulled himself 
together.  "Has the CDC been notified?"
         
"Yeah, Fro . . . my contact, picked up the call to the CDC.  They're 
sending a biohazard team out to the site immediately.  Sir, I would 
like to go . . . but under the circumstances I don't think it would be 
wise for Agent Scully to accompany me."
           
"I agree, I'll drop you off at your apartment so you can change and 
pack."  Skinner stated anxiously, he rose quickly rushing toward the 
door.  "Then . . . I'll meet you at the airport in an hour."
        
"You're going?"  Mulder asked, running after Skinner.
         
"My . . . my Aunt Beverly works at St. Mary's Hospital," Skinner 
stated quietly.  
         
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know," Mulder shivered.  He felt a 
sickening tightness in his stomach as he glanced sadly over at his 
boss. 
        
Mulder called Scully with the news about St. Mary's Hospital.  He 
knew it would be impossible to convince her that it was far too 
dangerous for her to accompany them.  Therefore, he chose to call 
her from O'Hare Airport in Chicago, after their flight had landed.  
"Scully, I'll call you when we find out more about the situation here."  
Mulder met Skinner's eyes as he ended the call.
         
"Do you think she'll have the common sense to stay put?"  Skinner 
asked.
      
"No.  But it will take her awhile to catch a later flight, by then the 
situation should be under control."
           
Their rental car stopped at a roadblock a few blocks from the 
hospital.  Mulder noticed the crowd of people waiting along with 
press photographers.  Skinner flashed his badge at a police officer, 
then they were allowed through the barrier.  The scene, once they 
reached the hospital, looked like a war zone.  In the distance, Mulder 
could see bodies lying in the street and on the sidewalk.  The whole 
area was cordoned off, they weren't allowed any closer than two 
hundred feet.
        
"Damn, its gotten outside of the hospital walls," Mulder swore.
      
Skinner parked next to the CDC's vans, making a note of the 
helicopter.  Men dressed in casual clothes and orderly uniforms stood 
around waiting, looking at the hospital in stunned silence, several 
were openly crying.
       
"Who's in charge here?"  Skinner asked, flashing his badge.
         
A man in a suit stepped forward immediately.  "Sir, ASAC Doug 
Moyer."
        
"Moyer, what's the situation?"  Skinner barked.
       
"Sir, the CDC has a team in the hospital.  They're taking air, water, 
and tissue samples," Moyer informed the larger man.  "We're waiting 
for the National Guard to arrive; they're going to secure the 
perimeter.  We've been having a difficult time keeping the press and 
civilians away."
        
"What's being done about the hospital's patients?"  Skinner 
questioned.
       
"The hospital's under quarantine, none of the surviving male patients, 
staff, and visitors are permitted to leave.  The men you see over there 
are the hospital's third shift.  We tried to send the women staff that 
showed up away, some left immediately, but the bodies you see in 
front of the hospital were those who refused to go, they wanted to 
wait for news.  We didn't know until it was too late that whatever had 
killed the women in the hospital had spread outside," Moyer replied 
solemnly.
        
"Do we have a list of victims, yet?"  Skinner asked anxiously, he had 
tried to call his aunt from his apartment as he changed, then again 
from the airport back in DC, he got her answering machine both 
times.  
           
"The hospital administrator faxed out a list of the staff and the 
patients, we don't have the names of the female visitors." Moyer 
signaled a subordinate to bring over the list, which he handed to 
Skinner.
        
Skinner scanned it quick, frowning sadly when he reached his aunt's 
name.
         
Mulder noticed the older man's stricken look, taking the list from 
him, he noticed the name 'Beverly Skinner', he assumed it was 
Skinner's father's sister.  "I'm sorry, sir, were you close?" he asked.
         
"Yes, she was my step-mother's sister.  She sort of took me under her 
wing when my family emigrated here from Russia.  She helped me 
learn English," Skinner smiled fondly, remembering.
           
Mulder was surprised that Skinner's family was Russian immigrants.  
"Excuse me, sir, but Skinner wasn't your father's surname?" 
        
"No.  It was Danko.  My father wanted a clean break with Russia and 
his past, so he took his second wife's maiden name and changed my 
name, too.  He wanted us to be a real American," Skinner sighed and 
looked back toward the hospital as five of the CDC personnel came 
out in their biohazard suits.
       
Moyer stepped next to him swearing under his breath.  "Damn.  Sir, 
there are only five of them . . . they had nine in their team, five men 
and four women."  He couldn't tell from this distance if the five CDC 
personnel were all males; he prayed there was at least one woman 
among them.
          
Mulder shuddered, it scared the shit out of him that any contagion 
could leech through a biohazard suit.  He was thankful that Scully 
was still back in DC.  
         
"ASAC Moyer, don't jump to conclusions.  The other four could still 
be collecting samples in the hospital," Skinner growled.  
        
Skinner's cell phone chirped.  "Skinner."  The A.D. paused listening 
to the voice on the other end of the phone.  
          
"Sir.  I'm in Chicago with Agent Mulder.  Yes, we're at St. Mary's 
Hospital."  Skinner took out his pen and notepad and balanced the 
phone in the crook of his neck as he quickly started writing in the 
notepad.  His hands shook as the list became longer; finally he 
stopped writing.  "We'll return immediately, sir," he murmured in a 
weak voice.
         
Mulder stood waiting nervously.  "Sir?"
       
"That was the Director," he said shakily.  "Mulder, it's spreading.  A 
restaurant in San Diego, a shopping mall in St. Louis, a factory in 
Tallahassee, and another hospital in Atlanta, and all the deaths were 
females."  Skinner glanced at the CDC team -- they stayed by the 
hospital entrance.  One removed his protective hood and radioed 
ASAC Moyer.
         
"Doctor Emmett Wells speaking, we're putting ourselves under 
quarantine.  The virulent killed our four female staff members within 
minutes of entering the hospital, we can only assume that it has 
leeched through our suits as well and that we are now infected, too."
         
Skinner took the radio.  "Doctor, this is Assistant Director Skinner of 
the FBI, did you collect the samples?"
         
"Yes, we're going to use the hospital's labs to analyze them," the man 
replied.
        
"How long will that take?  There has been other outbreaks across the 
country," Skinner informed the man.
         
"If the contagion has spread we're in deep trouble . . . I've never seen 
anything more virulent.  We don't even know what method to use to 
dispose of the bodies, yet."  Doctor Wells spoke to the four men next 
to him, who all rushed back into the hospital.  "We'll get the samples 
analyzed as quickly as possible, then send the results back to the 
CDC and the FBI labs."
        
"What about us, Doctor?  Is it safe for us to leave here?"  Skinner 
asked, staring sadly at the female bodies two hundred feet away.
         
"Yes, that female police officer is proof that it hasn't spread to where 
you're standing," the doctor replied, staring over toward one of the 
police cars. 
         
Skinner noticed the female officer for the first time.  "Moyer, what is 
she doing here?"
        
"Sir, she's with Chicago PD, several of the female officers that died 
in the hospital were friends of hers.  She's refused to leave," ASAC 
Moyer informed him.
           
Skinner glared at him then went over to the female officer.  "I'm A.D. 
Skinner with the FBI, I'm going to have to ask you to leave 
immediately for your own safety . . . Officer Harris," he said, reading 
her badge.
          
"Sir, I'm not going anywhere," she replied angrily, standing nose to 
nose with him.  To Skinner surprise, she was the same size as he was.
        
"Officer, either you leave of your own accord or I'll have you 
forcibly removed from the area," Skinner growled, watching as she 
backed down.
       
"Okay, fine," she grumbled, getting behind the wheel of her patrol 
car and driving off.  Once she was past the checkpoints, she smiled 
and morphed back into its original form.
             
Skinner watched the police officer leave, turning back to Mulder.  
"The Director wants us back in Washington immediately.  The 
President is calling an emergency cabinet meeting and he wants you 
there."
          
"Sir, I can get back to DC on my own if you'd rather stay here," 
Mulder replied, thinking that the A.D. would want to make 
arrangements for his aunt's body.
         
"No.  There's nothing for me to do here," Skinner stated as he 
followed Mulder back to their car.
          
"What about your aunt, sir?"
         
"CDC is not going to release any of the victims' bodies anytime soon, 
if ever.  I'm needed back in DC, when word gets out we're going to 
have a major panic on our hands," Skinner answered brusquely.
       
That's an understatement, Mulder thought, as they headed back to the 
airport.
        
***
       
Hoover Building
Monday, January 13
9:20 a.m.
          
Scully came into the office carrying two cups of coffee and a folder 
tucked under her arm.  "Mulder, I've been going over the results from 
the CDC last night," she said, setting one of the cups in front of him, 
he looked tiredly up at her from his desk.  "It doesn't look good, 
besides the virus being prevalent in the air, water, and victims bodies, 
it is also in every cell of the surviving males at St. Mary's.  It doesn't 
appear to be gestating, but we don't know if it's infectious either."
        
"What about the other areas of the country that were exposed?  Is it 
the same strain of the virus?" Mulder leaned back in his chair gulping 
down the warm cup of coffee.
         
"They've sent the results back from the other sites, they're identical.  
Mulder, the virus has elements that are totally alien to this planet.  I 
think it's the alien virus that the Grays intended to cleanse the earth 
with, and it appears that our assumption that the virus would target 
the infirm and the elderly was way off base."  Scully leaned against 
his desk, chewing worriedly on her bottom lip.  "What I don't 
understand is why?  What would they gain by killing off all of the 
females?  There would be no way to re-propagate the species, at best 
they'd only have useful slaves for fifty to sixty years."
         
"It's too early to guess what the aliens intended, but at least it sheds 
light on what the consortium has been up to for fifty years.  A lot of 
their research was on ways to eliminate the need for females in the 
procreation process.  They've done extensive research into cloning 
and they've successfully grown fetuses to maturity in growth 
cylinders."
        
"But, Mulder, the consortium used stolen female ova to achieve those 
results," Scully argued back, taking a seat behind her desk.
         
"That's probably why they've been stealing and storing the ova from 
women for decades, they knew what the virus would do to the female 
population," Mulder replied, a look of sadness crossed his features.  
"The government is going to be placing the country under martial 
law, they hope to stem the flow of victims until a cure can be found."  
The email notification on Mulder's computer dinged, glancing at the 
new message, he swore softly under his breath and opened the 
document attachment.
          
"Scully, look at this."
         
"What is it, Mulder?"  She walked over and stood reading over his 
shoulder.  It was a classified consortium document on the alien virus.
         
"Mulder, how do we know that this file is authentic?"
        
"At this point what would anyone have to gain by hiding the truth 
from us?  We have to proceed as if the information is authentic or 
until we can prove that it isn't."  Mulder pressed the print icon.
        
"Who sent the email?" Scully asked.
        
"I think it's from Krycek.  The guys were able to track his last known 
location to St. Petersburg, and that's where the message originated."
         
"Krycek?  Mulder, after everything that bastard has done how can 
you trust him?" Scully scoffed.
         
"Scully, I've discovered new evidence that he's been working 
undercover for the UN against the consortium.  Langly pulled up 
additional documents that have verified it beyond a shadow of a 
doubt in my mind."  Mulder turned in his chair and grabbed the laser 
prints from his printer. 
        
"I'd like to see that evidence, Mulder," Scully replied, there was a 
hint of disdain in her voice.
         
"Here, knock your socks off," Mulder replied, handing her a manila 
folder.  He rose and headed for the door.  "I'm going to the copier 
room.  I'll drop off a copy of this document to you before taking 
copies upstairs to Skinner and our team."
        
***
       
St. Petersburg
Tuesday, January 14
1:20 a.m.
          
Alex Krycek stood staring stoically out the window of his apartment 
into the nighttime sky.  The alien virus was sweeping through St. 
Petersburg with a vengeance.  The smell of death hung faintly in the 
frigid January air, they were lucky that it wasn't spring or summer or 
the smell would have been unbearable.  He watched as another dump 
truck passed underneath his window.  Due to the darkness, he was 
barely able to see the bodies that had been piled high in the back of 
the truck.  The Russian government had mobilized their troops 
immediately upon the first deaths being reported.  The troops worked 
around the clock going house to house to collect the dead for 
disposal -- the bodies were being taken out of the city to be 
incinerated.
         
Krycek sat back down behind his computer, wondering if Mulder had 
gotten his email.  It would be 6:30 Monday evening in DC.  He 
looked at the small wallet sized photo of the agent that he had taped 
to the bottom of his monitor.  He hoped that Mulder would overlook 
his hatred of him and take the documents seriously.
        
Mulder.  He smiled sadly.  He should have left Russia when he had a 
chance and returned to the United States.  Now it was impossible to 
leave; the United States government had declared martial law four 
hours ago and closed their borders.  
       
They were fools if they thought they could prevent the spread of the 
virus, which was impossible.  It was spreading fast -- contaminating 
the air, soil, water, and every living organism.  Birds and even insects 
were infected, carrying the virus to different parts of the world -- 
soon everything on the planet would be contaminated.
         
***
       
Hoover Building
Monday, January 13
11:20 p.m.
          
Fox Mulder was exhausted, he hadn't had any sleep since Saturday, 
and at least he had stayed in bed until noon that day.  He was 
spending hours pouring over the data that Krycek had sent about the 
virus and the personal letter that was attached warning about the 
mutations and the precautions that the survivors were going to need 
to undertake.  Mutations?  Damn, wasn't it enough that they were 
killing off all of females?  Did they have to turn the rest of the 
population into monsters?  At least it hadn't spread outside of the 
human species; all other life forms were unaffected.
          
Mulder tried again to contact Krycek through email, but his message 
was returned back address unknown.  Yawning, he had a hard time 
focusing his eyes on the type on the monitor.
        
"Agent Mulder, grab your coat."  Skinner's voice startled him.
       
"Sir, what are you still doing here?"
        
"Currently, making sure you get home okay.  C'mon, I'll drive you." 
The larger man pulled Mulder's coat off the coat rack and carried it 
over to the desk.
       
"Sir, with all due respect, I'm in the middle of something.  When I'm 
done, I'll drive myself home," Mulder huffed.  
        
"Agent Mulder, in your current condition you couldn't even walk 
down the hallway without falling asleep on your feet.  Now get your 
ass out of that chair!"  Skinner was quickly losing patience with his 
reticent agent. 
        
"Sir, please, time is running out!  Every second that passes another 
woman loses her life to the virus.  I have to stay, please," the agent 
whined.
          
Skinner was only operating on a couple of hours of sleep himself, 
over the last two days, and wasn't about to tolerate his agent's 
defiance.  He dropped the coat over Mulder's head.  "Put it on, 
Mulder, you're wasting time.  The sooner you get home and grab a 
few hours of sleep, the sooner you can be back behind your desk," he 
growled.
       
"Yes, sir." Mulder glared angrily at him then leveraged himself up 
and pulled his coat on.  He would just come back after Skinner 
dropped him off.
          
On their way to Mulder's apartment, Skinner's car was pulled over by 
a National Guardsman, he advised Skinner to get a specially issued 
sticker for his back window that gave him permission to be out on the 
streets after dark.  They passed several more military vehicles on 
their way to Mulder's apartment.
        
"Thanks for the lift, sir, I'll see you tomorrow," Mulder said, 
climbing out of the car, he frowned when Skinner got out and locked 
his door.  "Sir, is there something you need?"
        
"I'm going to crash on your sofa, Mulder.  That way, I can drop you 
off at the office in the morning.  After I'm sure you had enough 
sleep," Skinner smirked.  It felt great to be one step ahead of Fox 
Mulder, it didn't happen too often, but when it did -- boy did it feel 
good.
        
Mulder sighed.  "Oh gee, sir, a slumber party?  Maybe we should 
give Scully a call?" he replied sarcastically.
          
"I don't think so, Mulder, you're going to go right to bed," Skinner 
growled as they stepped off the elevator onto Mulder's floor.
         
"Are you going to tuck me in?" Mulder sassed back, unlocking his 
door.
          
"If that's what it takes," Skinner muttered under his breath, closing 
the door behind him.
       
"What was that, sir?"
        
"Mulder, I don't like this anymore than you do!  If you weren't so 
pigheaded and just did as you were told . . . " Skinner shuddered, 
sinking shakily onto to sofa, the events of the last couple of days 
were finally catching up with him.
        
"Sir, are you okay?" Mulder asked, sitting next to him.
        
"I . . . I'm fine, just a bit exhausted."
       
Mulder suddenly sympathized, he remembered his boss had just lost 
his aunt to the virus.  Skinner never even took time to grieve for her, 
and he had been working non-stop for two days, too.  "Sir, I don't 
mind sleeping on the sofa if you want to take the bed."
       
"Sure, Mulder, thanks," Skinner replied, relieved that the man wasn't 
arguing with him still.  He stood and looked around questioningly. 
        
"It's through here, sir," Mulder said, opening the door to the 
bedroom.
         
Skinner stepped through the doorway, his eyebrows arched in 
surprise at the waterbed with a leopard skin spread, and the overhead 
mirrors.  He looked at Mulder who stood in the doorway looking 
suddenly sheepish and shuffling his feet.
        
"It was a gift," Mulder said, shrugging his shoulders.
        
"A gift?  From whom?"  Skinner felt a pang of jealousy, he normally 
wouldn't ask such a personal question of his agent.
      
"I haven't figured that out yet," Mulder mused, looking thoughtfully 
at the bed.  
         
Skinner shook his head, why didn't it surprise him?  Only Mulder 
could turn something as simple as a gift into a mystery.
        
"Sir, I'm going to take a shower."  Mulder turned to leave then 
stopped, considering.  "There's a new toothbrush in the bathroom 
linen cabinet if you want to brush your teeth and take a shower, too."
       
Skinner briefly thought that Mulder was propositioning him to share 
the shower with him, but quickly tossed that idea away as wishful 
thinking on his part.  "Yeah, I'd like that, just let me know when 
you're done," Skinner replied.  In preparation for his shower, he 
shrugged off his suit coat, draped it over the back of a chair, removed 
his tie, and placed it on top of his coat.
         
"Okay, I'll do that."  Mulder glanced back once as he left the 
doorway, catching a pleasant eyeful of Skinner's undershirt clad torso 
as the larger man pulled off his linen dress shirt.  His boss was really 
put together well, he sometimes forgot that under those bureaucratic 
suits was a very fine specimen of manhood -- large biceps, flat abs, a 
broad chest, a slim waist.  Mulder daydreamed as he slipped his 
shoes off by the coffee table, and shrugged out of his own clothing 
before quickly heading into the bathroom clad only in his boxers.
        
"Down boy," he admonished his cock, which stood at attention 
against his belly.  "We will *not* lust after our boss," he muttered, 
turning on the water.  He tried to conjure up one of his favorite 
Krycek fantasies to jerk off to, but the young man kept turning into a 
surly, baldheaded, well-built, and compassionate Walter Skinner.  
"Fuck," he sighed.  He did not want to go there, so he turned the 
water to cold.
         
Skinner removed his belt and the holstered gun that was clipped to it, 
setting them on the dresser.  He sat on the chair to remove his shoes 
and socks.  He thought about how quickly the virus was spreading.  
He was fearful for his sister and nieces' lives, he wanted to drop 
everything and go to Minnesota to see them, their safety was 
constantly on his mind.  He was still lost in thought when Mulder 
knocked on the door.
        
"Sir, the bathroom is free," Mulder stated.  Averting his eyes away 
from his boss's body, he backed out of the bedroom and headed over 
to prepare the sofa to sleep on.
         
Skinner didn't notice Mulder's nervous reaction; he was too busy 
checking out his agent's bare chest and his transparent, loose fitting 
pajama bottoms.  When the younger man turned just right Skinner 
could tell he wasn't wearing anything underneath them.  He felt his 
suit pants tightening.  He could not allow Mulder to see him in a state 
of arousal.  He edged cautiously toward the bedroom doorway; after 
making sure Mulder's back was turned toward the sofa, he quickly 
headed for the bathroom.
         
When he came back out after his shower, he noticed that Mulder was 
already soundly asleep.  Fish tank and the light coming through the 
opened bedroom doorway faintly lighted the room.  Skinner stood at 
the foot of the sofa watching the younger man sleep.  Mulder looked 
so peaceful and innocent in his sleep, nothing like the hardened FBI 
agent he'd come to respect and love.  An unrequited love.  Sighing, 
he started to head back toward the bedroom, but before he could 
make it, he heard Mulder murmur "Alex" in his sleep.  His shoulders 
sagged as he felt the energy drain from his body, and he sadly 
climbed into bed.
        
*Alex?*  The first name that came to mind was Krycek, but Mulder 
hated that man.  Skinner reasoned that it must be a woman; there was 
an Alexis in accounting.  That only made him feel a little less jealous.  
Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to fall to sleep.
       
***
       
Mulder woke to the smell of bacon frying and the sun glaring through 
the living room window.  He shot up on the sofa, he didn't even 
remember falling asleep last night.  How could he have overslept?  
He never overslept and who was in his kitchen?  His sleep-muddled 
brain took awhile to get into gear.  Skinner.  Last night came crashing 
back to him.
         
"Good morning," Skinner said, coming into the living room, he set a 
steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of his agent.
       
"M'rning," Mulder mumbled, picking up the mug.  He noticed that 
Skinner had showered, shaved, and dressed already this morning.  
     
"Have you been up long?" he finally asked, between careful sips of 
the hot coffee.
        
"About an hour . . . I'm fixing us breakfast.  Why don't you go and 
get dressed, I'll have it ready when you get done."  Skinner had been 
pleasantly surprised that his agent actually had food in his 
refrigerator that wasn't past the expiration dates.  He knew the long 
hours that Mulder had been working didn't leave him a lot of time for 
shopping.
         
Mulder set the coffee mug down; rising, he stretched then headed to 
his bedroom to get his clothes before heading into the bathroom.  
Closing the bathroom door, he shook his head with disbelief, his boss 
had made him breakfast -- things just kept getting stranger and 
stranger.
       
Skinner waited until after he heard the shower go off before pouring 
the scrambled eggs into the pan.  He was just scooping them onto the 
plates when Mulder strolled into the kitchen.  Skinner pulled out the 
plate of bacon he had warming in the oven, tossing three pieces onto 
each of their plates.  He already had the toast and jam on the small 
dinette table.
         
"Thanks," Mulder murmured as the larger man placed the plate in 
front of him.  He reached for a slice of buttered toast and the 
raspberry jam. 
       
"You're welcome.  I was rather surprised you had food in your 
refrigerator," Skinner replied, sitting down next to him.  
        
"I went shopping on Saturday.  I know everyone assumes that I 
survive on takeout, but I do know how to cook," Mulder complained.
        
"No.  It's not that . . . I didn't mean to offend you.  I was only 
surprised you found the time to go to the store, since you're always at 
the office or out of town on a case," Skinner replied softly.
        
"Yeah, there is that.  I do end up tossing a lot of spoiled food down 
the garbage chute," he grinned sheepishly.
        
"Are you prepared for the meeting this afternoon with the Senate's 
crisis management committee?"  Skinner asked, dunking the toast in 
his cup of coffee.
       
"Yeah, I only hope they listen to me.  It might prevent a lot of deaths 
down the road," Mulder replied, sadly.
        
"You're sure the information you've received about the mutations are 
authentic?  It seems a little far-fetched . . . I mean men turning into 
ghouls and seven-foot tall Neanderthals."  Skinner didn't mean to 
scoff at the idea, but he was having a hard time accepting it. 
         
Mulder gave him a hard look then turned his attention back to 
finishing his breakfast.
         
***
       
Hoover Building
Wednesday, January 15
3:20 p.m.
            
Dana Scully came rushing into the office, grabbing her briefcase.  
"Mulder, I'm going over to my mother's home in Baltimore . . . she's 
not answering any of my phone calls," she said anxiously.
        
"Scully, I'm sure she's okay . . . the virus hasn't reached this part of 
the country, yet," Mulder replied, trying to ease her mind.
        
"Mulder, you've been isolated down here for the past four hours.  
During that time, deaths have been reported in Baltimore, New York 
City, Pittsburgh, San Diego, and Seattle."  Scully opened the door 
walking purposefully toward the parking garage.
         
"Scully, wait!  I'm coming with you," Mulder shouted, grabbing his 
coat, he rushed out of the office after her. 
        
"Mulder, you're needed here . . . I can handle this on my own," her 
voice broke, relaying her worst fears to her partner.
        
"No, Scully, we're friends.  I want to be there for you, let me, please," 
Mulder said softly as they stopped next to Scully's car.
       
A look of appreciation crossed her pretty face as she unlocked the 
passenger door for him.  "Thanks, Mulder," she murmured.
        
***    
       
On the drive through the side streets of Margaret Scully's 
neighborhood, Mulder noticed the National Guardsmen had already 
started to collect the bodies.  They passed several crashed vehicles 
with dead women behind the wheels.  Mulder knew it didn't look 
good for Scully's mother.  He wondered about his own mother, he 
had called her last night and she had sounded well.  He made a 
promise to himself that he would go to see her tomorrow, regardless 
of his workload.
       
Scully pulled the car into her mom's driveway next to the large 
colonial home her parents had purchased when her father had made 
captain.  It had been her family's home since she was 12 years old.  
They had no longer had to travel from base to base, it had provided 
the first real permanency in her life.
       
"Scully, why don't you stay here?  I'll go and check on her, if she was 
infected . . . " Mulder couldn't bring himself to say that Scully would 
die, too.  He didn't want to think about a life without her in it.
       
"No.  If she's dead, I want to be with her.  Mulder, it's only a matter 
of time.  In fifty years, the consortium weren't able to find a vaccine 
against the virus.  It's extremely unlikely that we'll find one in time, 
not at the rate the virus is spreading," she replied, climbing out of the 
car.
       
Mulder grabbed her arm, stopping her.  "Scully, please," he begged, 
letting go when he saw the look of determination in her China blue 
eyes.  He followed her reluctantly to the front door.
        
Scully used her key to unlock the door.  The metallic stench of blood 
hit them immediately upon entering.  Scully turned on the lights as 
they followed the scent to the kitchen.  Mrs. Scully was lying on the 
floor, curled up in a fetal position.  Dark red crystallized blood 
surrounded her body.  Scully knelt beside her and attempted to brush 
the hair off her mother's face only to have it crumple to dust at her 
touch.  All pigment and moisture had leeched out of the body, 
leaving behind a sickly white husk.
        
"Oh my God, Mulder.  Those inhuman bastards!  How could any 
intelligent being do this to another?"
      
Mulder knelt down next to her, placing a comforting hand on her 
shoulder.  His usually stoic partner turned and buried her head into 
his shoulder breaking down in tears, her body quivering with grief.  
Several minutes passed before her crying subsided and she pushed 
away from him.
     
"Mulder, I want my mother to have a proper funeral.  I don't want her 
disposed of like a piece of trash," she wept, referring to the 
mobilization of the military and National Guard troops who had been 
ordered to collect and burn the bodies of all the virus victims 
immediately.
      
"Sure, Scully, anything you want, but we're going to have to handle it 
ourselves," he said softly.
       
"I have a friend at the crematorium.  If we contact him and Father 
O'Donnell my mother's priest, I'm sure they'd be willing to help," 
Scully replied.
        
"Okay, you go call them and I'll take care of your mother's body," 
Mulder murmured.  Looking at the body next to his knees, he 
wondered what he could use to wrap it.
       
"There are blankets in the upstairs linen closet, you can wrap her in 
one of those," Scully replied, reading his mind from the expression 
on his face.
      
"Okay, I'll be right back."
        
When Mulder came back downstairs, he listened to Scully arguing on 
the telephone.  "Michael, please," she begged, her voice shaking.  
"Okay, thanks, I really appreciate it."
       
"What was wrong?"  Mulder asked, holding the folded blanket 
against his chest.
         
"The military has commandeered all of the city's crematoriums and 
blast furnaces to dispose of the bodies.  Michael is going to see if he 
can sneak us in.  I better get a hold of Father O'Donnell and my 
brothers."  She picked the telephone up again and started dialing as 
Mulder headed back into the kitchen.
            
Mulder spread the blanket out on the floor, sliding his arms under 
Mrs. Scully's body, he lifted her, placing her in the center of the 
blanket.  He was amazed and sickened at how light the body was; it 
couldn't have weighed more than thirty pounds.  Mulder looked at the 
piles of crystallized fluids that had leached out of the body at the time 
of death.  That explained why the body was so light -- there wasn't an 
ounce of fluid or moisture left in it.  Mulder contemplated what he 
should do.  He decided that it was a part of her and grabbed a broom 
and a dustpan and started sweeping the crystals up.  He looked 
frantically around for a container until his eyes rested on the glass 
floor canister, and he emptied the floor into the trash.  
          
Scully finally came back into the room, staring silently down at her 
mother's body.  "Tara's dead," she murmured quietly.
         
"Bill's wife?"
        
"Yeah."
         
"I'm sorry."  Mulder handed the full floor canister to her.  He then 
went to Mrs. Scully's body and gently folded the blanket over it.  He 
started to lift it, then stopped suddenly, and looked up at Scully. 
     
"You're still alive.  We've been here for over a half-hour, Scully, and 
the virus hasn't affected you.  All reports have indicated that the 
women died within minutes of being exposed," Mulder rambled 
excitedly.  If his partner were immune to the virus, she might be the 
key to a possible cure.
         
Scully looked at him stunned.  "God, Mulder, do you think that I 
might have an immunity to the virus?  Maybe it was something those 
bastards did to me during my abduction?" 
        
"I don't know Scully, but you're still alive.  After we put your mother 
to rest we'll have the CDC run some tests on you."
          
***
       
CDC
Friday, January 17
2:20 p.m.
           
Mulder pounded his fist angrily against the wall.  "Damn it, her body 
is infected with the virus and you can't figure out why it's not killing 
her?  There must be something that makes Scully and the other six 
women survivors different from the women that died?"
        
"Agent Mulder, we're working on it.  There was an alien substance 
found in their blood work, but it's not the only factor keeping them 
alive . . . we haven't isolated what that is, yet.  We need to run more 
tests," Doctor Emmett Wells replied, annoyed.
        
"Doctor, we're running out of time!"  Mulder growled.
         
"Don't you think I know that!  I have a wife and daughter, I don't 
want to lose them!  Agent Mulder, I really wish you could go back to 
the FBI and stay out of our way, but unfortunately we're stuck with 
you!"  The man angrily pushed past Mulder, leaving him standing 
with his mouth agape.
        
"Close it, Mulder, before something flies in," Scully said as she 
walked tiredly into the room.  She held her arm stiffly against her 
chest; it ached from all of the blood they had taken from it over the 
last two days.
          
"How are you doing?"
       
"Slightly better than you . . . it would appear," Scully replied, taking 
in her partner's haggard appearance.  "Are you trying for another 
Skinner slumber party?" she quipped.  She still couldn't believe that 
their boss had gone to that length to force Mulder into getting some 
much-needed rest.
     
"Very funny.  Kimberly said that Skinner has left to attend to a 
personal crisis out of state," Mulder replied. 
        
Scully frowned.  "The government isn't allowing private citizens to 
travel even to attend to dead relatives, it doesn't seem fair for him to 
be allowed that privilege."
       
"Scully, Skinner's been working nearly non-stop since Saturday.  I 
told you about his aunt in Chicago, she was one of the first victims, 
and he didn't even take time to grieve for her.  If anyone deserves to 
be allowed to attend to some personal matter, he does.  Besides, we 
don't know that he's attending a relative's death, I got the impression 
that his aunt was his only living relative, he never mentioned anyone 
else," Mulder replied sadly.
       
"What about you, Mulder?  You're not even allowed to leave the area 
to visit your mother," she argued.  She'd been mad ever since the new 
travel bans were announced yesterday, they had prevented her 
brothers from coming.  Although, deep down, she knew it was the 
only thing the government could do to slow the spread of the virus.  
At least the bans were after her mother's death two days ago; she 
would never have been able to obey them if they had been in affect 
then.
        
"Scully, you know I can't see my mother even if I were permitted to 
leave here; my last blood work showed that I'm contagious.  If I went 
to see her now it would kill her.  Damnit, I can't figure out how I 
became contagious so soon.  Doctor Wells says the virus gestates for 
at least five days in an infected male's body before he shows signs of 
being contagious.  I only was exposed to your mother's body two 
days ago.  Unless it happened in Chicago?"
        
The CDC had placed Mulder into temporary quarantine.  He'd been 
trying to get permission to leave because martial law had banned all 
women in public service positions from going to work, and had 
discouraged others from even leaving their homes, so there wasn't a 
chance of him running into any women.  He knew that he would have 
to stay away from his apartment and the FBI, but he figured that he 
could hangout with the gunmen -- anywhere was better than being 
confined in here.
       
"Mulder, they estimate that an eighth of the male population will be 
contagious by next week," Scully sighed.  "It will be impossible for 
the government to quarantine that many men."
         
"God, I just want to leave here!  Doctor Wells and I are starting to 
get on each other nerves.  I wish I could get permission to at least go 
to the gunmen's headquarters . . . I'd have access to their computers."
        
"How are the guys doing?"
          
"Fine, they've started installing bars over their windows and flood 
lights outside.  They're taking Krycek's warnings about mutations 
very seriously."
        
"They would."
       
"Hey, the government is, too.  They're mandating the installation of 
window bars and flood lights on all apartment complexes and 
buildings," Mulder informed her, heading for the door.  "Well, I'm 
going to see if they'll let me use the computer in the lab.  Langly 
tracked down a couple more documents on the virus, he's suppose to 
email them to me, do you want to come?"
          
"I can't.  I'm scheduled for more tests," Scully sighed.
         
"Do you want me to hang around?"
         
"No, Mulder.  There's no point.  Go, and say hello to the guys for 
me."
           
***
       
Walnut Grove, Minnesota
Saturday, January 18
11:20 a.m.
           
Walter Skinner stood next to his brother-in-law, Nathan Edwards, on 
the farm that his sister and Edwards owned.  He sadly gazed down at 
the four wooden crosses that they had made last night to mark the 
graves of his sister and nieces.
        
"Nathan, you're welcome to come back to D.C. with me," Skinner 
offered, not liking the idea of his brother-in-law being out here alone 
after he left.
        
"Thanks, Walter, but I'm going to stay here.  This farm has been in 
my family for over a hundred years, it doesn't seem right to leave it 
or Helen and the girls." Edwards nodded toward the graves.  
"Someone needs to maintain their graves."
         
"Are you going to be okay?"
        
"Walter, I'm not going to kill myself.  I'm a Christian, suicide is a sin 
against God."
        
"You still believe?"
         
"My faith is all that I have left.  C'mon, let's go back to the house, 
you should be leaving if you want to make your flight."
        
"I won't miss it . . . I'm the only passenger."  Skinner had received a 
message by way of Kimberly from Mulder about the possibility that 
he might be contagious.  He was going to assume that his agent was 
right.  He had arranged for a private plane to take him back to D.C.; 
from there he was going straight to the CDC to be tested.
        
***
       
Hoover Building
Thursday, January 23
11:20 a.m.
           
Kimberly climbed shakily into the minivan next to her boyfriend 
Tony.  She had just witnessed the gruesome deaths of many of her 
friends and co-workers.  Only a few of the women that worked for 
the FBI elected not to come into work, a larger number of women 
had braved the virus threat and continued to work.  She had no idea 
why she hadn't died with them, but she knew that her survival would 
put her freedom in jeopardy.  She had seen the directive sent to 
Skinner ordering him to locate and send all females that survive the 
virus to The Northridge Facility in Colorado for testing.  
       
Kimberly was not about to leave Tony behind while she was locked 
up and treated like a lab rat.  She hid out in the basement until she 
received the call from Tony that he was in the parking garage waiting 
for her.  Sneaking out had proven to be ridiculously easy, all the 
agents were upstairs in shock at the lost of their female co-workers 
and the new knowledge that they were now infected.
        
"Kim, are you really okay?  You're not feeling sick or anything?" 
Tony asked nervously.  
       
"Yeah, I'm okay, just take me home, Tony," she murmured, sliding 
down in the car seat so she wouldn't be seen by anyone.  It wasn't 
until she was safely at home, and securely locked behind her own 
doors that she broke down in tears at the loss of her friends.
           
***
       
CDC
Thursday, January 23
noon
         
Skinner sadly hung up the telephone and looked over at Mulder, he 
had been quarantined here since Saturday evening with the younger 
man.  The room they were in had cots set up for twenty men.  The 
place was starting to get overcrowded; forty more men had been 
quarantined there on Sunday.  An additional sixty were added the 
next day. 
      
"That was the Director, the FBI has been exposed to the virus, we've 
lost all of our female staff and agents.  The Director is going to try to 
get us released from here since it is pointless to continue with the 
quarantine; there is no way the government could quarantine the 
number of men now contagious."
          
Dana Scully entered the room in a huff and interrupted him.  "Sir, 
you have to do something!  They want to transfer the women and me 
to the Northridge facility.  You can't allow them to lock us away like 
common criminals!"
        
"Agent Scully, there is nothing I can do . . . my hands are tied.  That 
directive came directly from the Administration and Congress.  They 
are determined to find a cure for this virus and you and the other 
women hold the only hope.  I've been directed to assign a team of 
agents to locate all female survivors."
        
"There is no reason to lock us up!  We would submit willingly to 
tests without being confined to some top-secret military installation!  
Please, sir, you have to do something," Scully pleaded.
         
"There is nothing that I can do for you or the other women.  If there 
was, don't you think I'd try?" Skinner growled, annoyed.
        
"Frankly, sir, no, I don't!  If I were Mulder I think you'd do 
everything in your power to get him released," she snapped.
        
"Scully, that's not fair or true," Mulder replied softly.  He was still 
reeling from the news of the deaths at the FBI, and didn't have the 
energy to get in the middle of a confrontation between his boss and 
partner.
        
"Mulder it is true, Skinner is always looking out for you and covering 
your ass after every crazy situation you've gotten yourself into!  You 
wouldn't still be in the FBI if it weren't for him cleaning up after each 
of your escapades!" she shouted angrily.  All she wanted was a little 
of the same support that their boss had always given her partner.
        
Mulder face turned ashen, and he turned away from her.  "Scully, 
after everything we've been through, is that what you think of me?  
That I'm crazy?  That I wouldn't have been able to keep my job 
without Skinner?"
         
"Mulder," she sighed, realizing she had gone too far, but was not 
willing to take back what she had said.
         
"If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make," Mulder said, 
quickly leaving the room.
        
Skinner glared at her.  "Scully, yes, it's true that Mulder sometimes 
has gotten himself into situations where he needed my help, and I 
will never apologize for providing that help.  He needed someone 
who believed in him, and you were never able to offer him that type 
of belief.  Even after he'd been proven right again, and again, you 
still couldn't believe.  Scully, he's not crazy, he never was.  And, I 
wasn't the only one at the bureau who was protecting him," he stated 
softly, turning, he headed down the hallway in the direction Mulder 
had taken.  
        
Scully stood thinking, sighing, she knew she'd have to apologize to 
Mulder.  It hadn't been fair to take her anger out on him.
         
***
       
Chilmark
Monday, February 13
11:20 a.m.
           
Skinner stood next to Mulder who was gazing sadly down at his 
mother's body -- she had passed away in her sleep.  Her death 
appeared to from natural causes, not from the virus that had swept 
through the female population in the past month.  The disposal crews 
could no longer keep up with disposing of the dead bodies.  It would 
be months before all the bodies could be located incinerated.  The 
crews had shifted their focus to the living, going door to door 
searching for orphaned boys.  Many of the dead had been single 
mothers.
       
Churches and the government had set up countless orphanages 
throughout the nation to house and feed the children, but the lack of 
suitable adults had left most of the facilities understaffed and under- 
supervised.  The government was making nationwide appeals for 
volunteers to help at the orphanages.
         
"My mother is going to be buried next to my father.  I've already 
made arrangements with the funeral home, they're sending a hearse 
over to collect her body," Mulder replied.
          
Skinner was surprised to hear that.  Nowadays it was impossible to 
get immediate service from a funeral home without a lot of money.  
He wondered how Mulder could afford it, but kept his questions to 
himself.  
       
"Would you like me to make us something to eat while we wait?"
        
"Sir, if you're hungry you go ahead and make yourself something.  I 
couldn't eat anything right now."  Mulder smiled weakly.
       
"Okay, Mulder." Skinner squeezed his shoulder then left the 
bedroom.
          
Mulder pulled over a chair and sat next to the bed, staring into his 
mother's peaceful face.  "Mom, I'm sorry.  I wanted so much to find 
Samantha for you . . . it hurts that I've failed you.  I only hope that 
she is there with you now," he murmured softly, tears running gently 
down his cheeks.
         
He wished Scully were here so he could talk to her.  She would 
understand how he was feeling, he doubted that Skinner would.  
Damn the government for taking her away from him, he had tried 
talking to Senator Matheson into get her released.  However, the 
Senator refused to show any preferential treatment toward her over 
the other women.  There were now twelve hundred of them at 
Northridge.  
      
***
       
Hoover Building
Monday, February 23
1:20 p.m.
          
Mulder took off his glasses and placed them on the stack of 
photocopies as he picked up the remote for the overhead projector.  
He was in the FBI auditorium, briefing members of the different 
agencies on what to expect next from the virus.  
         
He had pieced the information together from several consortium 
documents.  The one he received from Krycek was the most 
informative, but even it was missing the timeframes in which the 
mutations happened.  The document the gunmen had turned up about 
the remote town in Alaska that the consortium had used to test the 
virus on was missing large chunks of information, but it did have 
photographic documentation of the test subjects.
          
Mulder flipped the projector to the next slide.  "The next slides are 
photographs of the consortium test subjects.  The first ten show what 
a fully mutated Neanderthal will look like.  The consortium had a 
total twenty-four Neanderthals, they ranged in size from six foot, five 
inches all the way up to eight foot, two inches tall."  Mulder stopped 
talking as appalled voices sounded around the room and waited for 
the audience to calm down.
          
An outraged man from the audience asked.  "These monstrosities 
were once normal humans?" 
        
"Yes," Mulder replied, thinking about what the reaction would be to 
the photographs of the ghouls. 
        
The room finally quieted down and Mulder continued.  "Besides the 
change in appearance, the Neanderthal mutation causes other 
changes.  They become less intelligent, have increased physical 
strength, and they displayed a heightened sex drive," Mulder 
informed the group.
       
"SAC Mulder, just what do you mean an increased sex drive?  If you 
haven't noticed we've fucking lost all of our women!" one man 
exploded angrily.
         
"No women were at the research station where the infected men were 
held because they would have died instantly.  In addition, no one at 
the research station was ever permitted to leave, for fear of spreading 
the virus.  The objects of the Neanderthals' sexual desire were human 
males being held there.  Although the Neanderthals did have sex with 
each other, they seemed to prefer humans, and the better-looking the 
more they lost control."  Mulder took a deep breath, he didn't want to 
hold anything back, but the next part made him livid.  "The 
researchers enjoyed taunting the Neanderthals, they would imprison 
one of the town's most handsome young men in a cage and watch as 
the Neanderthals literally tore their fingernails off trying to get to the 
young man.  Of course, they would eventually always succeed in 
opening the cage . . . " Mulder let his voice trail off, the fate of the 
young man in the cage was left up to his audience's imaginations. 
          
He quickly flipped the projector to the next slide, which showed a 
picture of a ghoul.  His audience was becoming sensitized to the 
horrors of the mutations, besides a few gasps they remained deathly 
quiet.
       
"The ghoul mutation is by far the most hideous, they no longer even 
remotely resemble a human being.  Ghouls are sensitive to light, and 
their preferred source of nourishment is humans.  The consortium 
tested this by putting a human in a maze along with other animals.  
The ghoul would always go for the human even if he was harder to 
get to.  During these tests the ghouls killed twenty-six humans; they 
were eaten alive while the researchers watched," Mulder informed 
them in disgust.
        
"The last two mutations aren't as physically repulsive.  In fact, the 
men with these mutations appear human.  The first one the 
consortium named the clairvoyant mutation.  Men with this mutation 
became empathic, telepathic, and in one case prophetic.  The only 
way to detect if a man has this mutation is through screening their 
DNA -- it shows up as an extra chromosome.  It's the same with the 
sorcerer strain of mutation, but very little data is available on that 
particular mutation; there was only one man affected by it and the 
data on him is thin.  The sorcerer has abilities for telepathy, 
telekinetics, pyrogenics, and teleportation.  He may have had 
additional abilities but a lot of the data on him is missing."  Mulder 
advanced the projector showing the photographs of the three men 
with the clairvoyant mutation and finally the man with the sorcerer 
mutation.
         
"The virus has only affected humans . . . no other life form appears to 
have been altered by it, even though it is now prevalent within every 
living cell on this planet."  He concluded, turning off the projector, 
Mulder looked out over the crowd; he did not feel up to taking 
questions.  He had provided all the information in a printed handout.  
"This concludes my presentation, at the exits you can pick up 
detailed information about each of these mutations, thank you for 
your time."
        
Several men attempted to ask questions, but Mulder ignored them 
quickly leaving the room through a side exit.
            
***
       
Two weeks later
Hoover Building
Tuesday, March 10
10:20 a.m.
          
Walter Skinner fastened on his flak jacket.  He was going out to help 
squelch another riot that had broken out in front of the nation's 
Capital.  All available men from the FBI, ATF, National Guard, DC 
PD, and the military were being called out to assist.  
        
He left his office heading down to the parking garage to meet up with 
his team of agents.  He carried his helmet tucked under his arm as he 
rode the elevator down.  Things had gone completely to hell after the 
last women died two weeks ago -- the only surviving women were at 
Northridge Research Facility under tight security.
        
The FBI had been put in charge of the nation's security.  They were 
elevated over the armed services and the other security agencies.  
Skinner paused briefly in the entrance to the parking garage.  The 
FBI armored assault vehicles were lined up and at his command.  His 
eyes caught sight of Mulder, the man looked like a kid in the helmet 
he was wearing.  
         
"Agents, move out!"  Skinner barked, climbing into the front seat of 
the nearest vehicle.  
       
The assault team was equipped with tear gas, and all the men had 
rubber bullets in their guns.  Skinner wanted to avoid the unnecessary 
taking of human life. 
        
This was the third riot they had been called to put down in less than 
two weeks.  There were militant fractions in the populace that had 
been using the recent disaster to try to overthrow the U.S. 
government.  However, they had underestimated the government's 
preparedness in handling the recent crisis.  The FBI was now zeroing 
in on their leaders and should have the situation under control in no 
time.
       
The FBI's trucks screeched to a halt in front of the Capital.  Skinner 
noted quickly that there weren't as many rioters as the two previous 
times.  At most there were four hundred men, and a majority of them 
was already being rounded into a group by the National Guard and 
Army troops.  Skinner jumped out of the truck and dispatched his 
agents to go after the men that had escaped through the military's 
lines.  His orders not to use lethal force in the apprehension of the 
rioters had made his agents' jobs all the more dangerous.
         
Mulder, Sullivan, and Underwood chased a group of three men 
through the park.  Mulder signaled Sullivan to take the man on his 
left, while he ran down the largest of the three, tackling the man from 
behind.  The large man hit the ground hard, getting the air knocked 
out of him.  Mulder quickly straddled the giant's back, trying to get 
the handcuffs on him.  He had barely managed to secure one thick 
wrist when the man recovered and tried to throw him off, but Mulder 
dug his knees into the man's sides.  Agent Underwood came over to 
assist, but before he could reach them the large man climbed to his 
feet with Mulder still on his back.  The agent put a choke hold 
around the man's neck trying to cut off his flow of air, but the large 
man rammed Mulder into a tree several times trying to knock him off 
his back.
        
"Fuck!  C'mon, Underwood, I could use a hand here!" Mulder 
growled.  Pain shot up his back, and he tightened his hold on the 
man's neck.
       
Agent Underwood had his baton free and smashed it into the giant's 
midsection which had absolutely no effect.  The large man took a 
swing at him and Underwood ducked, dancing out of range of the 
massive fists.  The agent dove back in, smashing the baton into the 
man's groin area, which caused him to go down like a ton of bricks.  
Mulder quickly grabbed the large man's free wrist and fastened the 
cuff around it, noting that the cuffs barely fit around the man's wrists.
         
"You okay, Mulder?" Underwood asked.
         
"Yeah, I'm fine," Mulder groaned, wincing at the pain in his back and 
buttocks.  
       
Sullivan came back with one of the rioters in handcuffs.  "The other 
piece of scum got away," he breathed heavily.  "Mulder, what the 
hell did you catch there?"
          
Underwood chimed in.  "I was wondering the same thing?  If his skin 
were green, I'd say we'd caught the incredible hulk."
        
Mulder had been behind him the entire time and hadn't had a chance 
to see the large man's face.  He had thought it weird that the man's 
clothes were too small for him.  His pant cuffs were at least five 
inches above his ankles and the seams were threatening to pop. 
        
Now Mulder got a good look at the man that he had tackled.  "Close, 
Ron.  I think he's suffering from the Neanderthal mutation," he 
replied, shuddering at the man's distorted features and massive body.  
        
The giant seemed to be trying to sniff him, so Mulder stepped back.  
"I'm not sure if he's even done mutating, yet.  We'd better take him to 
the CDC lab for tests."
         
The large man leaned closer to Mulder, leering.  "You're a pretty 
little thing," he purred.  The agents all noted the growing bulge in the 
man's pants with revulsion.  The already stressed seams burst apart 
and the man's massive cock sprang free.
         
"Mulder, why don't you take your boyfriend back to the police van 
before he gets frostbite on his dick," Underwood quipped, stepping 
hastily away from the exposed man.
       
Sullivan glared at his partner then turned to Mulder.  "Mulder, here 
you take this piece of scum.  Ron and I will handle your sexually 
excited mutant." The older agent shoved the smaller prisoner to 
Mulder.
      
"Ah, thanks, Jack," Mulder mumbled, he didn't like shirking away 
from his responsibilities, but he was grateful for Sullivan's offer to 
take the n'thral off his hands. 
        
"No problem, Mulder."
       
Skinner noticed Mulder return with a prisoner, the agent seemed to 
be walking stiffly, but before he could head over to Mulder, the A.D. 
saw the giant prisoner towering over Agents Sullivan and 
Underwood.  //What the hell is that thing?// Skinner thought, heading 
over to them. 
        
"I think he grew another inch on the walk over here," Underwood 
complained.
          
"Agents, what do you have there?" Skinner asked tentatively, noting 
the fourteen-inch cock jutting out of the man's torn pants.
       
"This is Agent Mulder's prisoner.  Mulder was slightly injured in 
apprehending him, so we're handling the prisoner for him," Sullivan 
informed him.  
         
Well, that explained why Mulder was walking stiffly, but it didn't 
explain the prisoner's lack of dress.  "Why is his penis sticking out of 
his pants?"  Skinner inquired, as more agents became interested in 
the giant that Sullivan and Underwood had in custody. 
         
"Ah, he sort of took a fancy to SAC Mulder and his pants seams 
burst under the pressure," Underwood coughed, stifling a chuckle.
         
Sullivan elbowed Underwood to shut up.  "Sir, Mulder thinks the 
man is suffering from the effects of the Neanderthal mutation.  If 
you'll recall from Mulder's report on the mutations, one of the 
symptoms of a Neanderthal is a heightened sex drive."
        
"Yes, I recall Mulder's report," Skinner sighed, he had hoped the 
information about the mutations was false.  "Put him in a van and 
take him to the CDC, they'll want to study him," Skinner ordered.  He 
then went to find Mulder.
         
He located Mulder at the furthest police van handing over his 
prisoner.  "Agent Mulder, Sullivan said you were injured taking 
down a suspect," Skinner inquired, standing in front of his agent.
       
"It's nothing, sir, only a bruised back and hip, nothing that a hot 
shower won't fix," Mulder replied.
         
"I saw the suspect, you're lucky he didn't do more damage.  Would 
you like to explain how you were injured?"  Skinner steered Mulder 
over to the paramedics who were attending to several injured 
prisoners and guardsmen.
        
"The suspect slammed me against a tree, while trying to get me off 
his back," Mulder replied.  "I didn't realize that he was a mutant 
when I tackled him.  Otherwise, I'd have been more careful.  
Neanderthals are documented to be five times stronger than the 
average human."
        
"Yeah, I read your report, plus they have uncontrollable sex drives.   
Mulder, you're lucky that Agents Sullivan and Underwood were with 
you," Skinner growled.  He was angry that Mulder would even 
attempt to tackle a man so much larger.  "Mulder, let the paramedics 
check you out."
       
"Sir, I'm not really hurt that badly," Mulder protested.
        
"Can it, Mulder!  Now strip!"  Skinner barked.
      
Sullenly, Mulder stripped off his flak jacket and handed it to Skinner 
then removed his tie, dress shirt, and finally his undershirt.  
      
Skinner frowned when he noticed the already discoloring bruise 
starting at his agent's shoulder blade and disappearing into his pants.  
       
The paramedic thoroughly checked Mulder.  "Nothing appears to be 
fractured, but you're going to have one hell of a bruise."
        
Mulder gave Skinner a smug 'I told you so' look, then stiffly pulled 
back on his undershirt.  
        
"Mulder, I want you to go home early today and take tomorrow off," 
Skinner ordered, returning Mulder's smug look.
          
***
       
Mulder's Apartment
Tuesday, March 10
3:00 p.m.
          
Mulder noticed the shiny new locks as he inserted his key into the top 
one -- he was relieved that it worked.  He hadn't asked the guys to 
replace his locks.  
         
"Hey, Mulder, you're home early," Frohike said, coming out of the 
kitchen with a large submarine sandwich that was cut into quarters.  
"Want some?" he asked, placing the sandwich on the coffee table in 
front of Byers and Langly who were sitting on the sofa flipping 
through the channels on his television. 
        
"We saw you on the news.  Is it true that you single handedly 
captured a Neanderthal?" Langly interjected, taking part of the sub.
         
"Yeah, sort of," Mulder replied distantly as he ran his hand down the 
door jam studying the new twenty-four inch metal kick plate they had 
installed.  
       
Byers walked over to him explaining what they did.  "We knew your 
current locks wouldn't keep one of those creatures out, so we came 
over and installed ones that would.  We also installed bars over your 
windows against possible ghouls."
       
Mulder turned and looked at the metal bars installed over the inside 
of his windows.  "Byers, I'm on the fourth floor!  I really don't think 
there is a risk of a ghoul getting up here."
        
"Yeah, maybe, but we don't know about these Neanderthals.  If 
they're as horny as the documents claim, we thought it better to be 
safe than sorry," Frohike said, coming back out of the kitchen with a 
beer.
         
Mulder cringed, remembering his first run in with a n'thral a few 
hours ago.  "God, I think they're hornier than the documents claim," 
he muttered.
           
"Really?"
         
"Yeah, really," Mulder said.  Bending, he picked up a quarter of the 
submarine sandwich, wincing as the bruises on his back pulled taut.  
"And stronger, too."
        
"Are you okay?" Frohike asked, concerned.
       
"I'm fine.  I bruised my back, but it's nothing a hot shower won't fix," 
Mulder sighed.  "Thanks guys.  I really do appreciate the work you've 
done for me, if there is anything I can do to repay you . . ."
     
"Hey, no problemo," Langly mumbled, between bites.  
        
"Well, Mulder, now that you mention it, there is something you can 
do.  You see it's like this.  We've volunteered at the local orphanage, 
we're going to be working there every Wednesday, Thursday, and 
Friday, and we could use your help," Frohike said.
        
"Sure, what type of help?  Is it something I could do after work?" 
Mulder asked, sitting gingerly on his desk chair.
       
"Mainly helping me with cooking dinner for seven hundred hungry 
boys, and it wouldn't have to be for more than a few months.  I'm 
teaching some of the older boys to cook, but until they're up to speed 
I could really use your help," Frohike said.  
        
Mulder was thoughtful for a few minutes.  "Okay, I'll be glad to help.  
Are you guys sleeping at the orphanage?"  
         
"Yeah, we can't very well leave.  Unlike you, we don't have special 
authorization to be out after dark," Langly snorted.    
        
"Father Joseph has allowed us to set up an office in one of the hotel's 
old meeting rooms, so it's no big deal, we can still get some work 
done on our magazine those days," Byers replied.  The government 
had temporarily commandeered the Regency Hotel for the 
orphanage.
         
Langly made a scoffing sound.
          
Mulder sensed that they had had some disagreement on this issue, but 
he decided to skirt around it.  "Are there any other volunteers 
working the same days you are?"
          
"There are twenty-two other men including Father Joseph.  It's not 
very many considering the number of kids we're looking after.  
Seventy-two of the children are under the age of four and twenty of 
those are under age of one."
       
"It's understandable, men are trying to adjust to losing their families," 
Mulder replied sadly.  "It's going to be hard finding volunteers."
       
"Yeah, you're probably right.  All the men that we've met were either 
bachelors or college students.  I wonder if the government could 
make an appeal to students?  Considering that all college classes 
have been cancelled indefinitely, it would be nice if more students 
volunteered or were paid to help out," Byers replied.
         
"The administration is talking about setting up a national program 
similar to the Peace Corps of the 1960s that would appeal to people's 
patriotism in helping our country overcome this disaster," Mulder 
informed them.  "They'd be trained and sent to areas that needed 
help, such as the orphanages, farms, hospitals, etc.  The volunteers 
would be given a free college education once the universities are 
reopened."
         
"I was in the Peace Corps," Frohike said, sipping his beer and 
plopping his feet up on the coffee table.
         
"Really, Melvin?  I didn't know that," Byers replied. 
        
"Oh yeah, I thought it would get me out of going to Vietnam, but no 
such luck," he sighed.
        
"You were in Vietnam?" Mulder asked, surprised.
         
"Oh yeah, it's where I learned photography," he sighed lethargically.  
"U.S. Army Press Corps."
          
"C'mon, guys, we'd better get moving if we want to make curfew.  
We still need to stop at the grocery and liquor stores before heading 
home," Langly said, standing and stretching.  
     
"Mulder, we'll see you at the orphanage tomorrow evening," Byers 
told him, pulling on his coat.
        
"It's been a slice," Frohike mumbled.
         
"Thanks, guys, see ya tomorrow."  Mulder held the door open for 
them.  After they had left, he locked all six new deadbolts.  He 
wandered into his bedroom and gingerly stripped out of his suit.  
Hanging it in the closet, he toed off his shoes and tossed his 
underwear and socks into the dirty clothes hamper.
         
He walked naked into his bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, 
he turned sideways trying to see his back.  The bruise had started to 
turn purple.  "Well at least it's not going to leave a scar," he muttered, 
suddenly feeling tired and old.  Taking in the rest of his appearance, 
he noted the faint crow's feet around his eyes, frowning, he reached 
up and plucked out a single gray hair from his head.  He traced the 
puckered bullet scar on his shoulder, and looked down at the much 
larger scar on his thigh.  Sighing, he turned on the shower and 
stepped in.  "Face it . . . you're getting old."
        
***
       
Crystal City - Viva Tower
Thursday, March 12
9:00 p.m.
          
Skinner strolled tiredly into his apartment building after another 
grueling 16-hour day.  The dead quiet weighed depressingly heavy in 
the air.  Sixty-five percent of the residents in the building had been 
women, and on the 17th floor where his apartment was located, there 
were now only two occupied apartments.  
      
The disposal crews had been through the building and removed the 
dead a week ago, but still the faint metallic scent of blood hung in the 
air.  The bodies were being taken outside of the city limits to be 
burned -- it was becoming a daunting job.
         
"Good evening, Walter," Fred Davis greeted as he stepped into the 
elevator.  He was the building's superintendent.
        
"Fred, you're working late," Skinner replied, pushing the button for 
his floor.
        
"Yep, I see you are, too," Davis replied.  
         
"Yeah, I can hardly keep up with the paperwork, let alone the new 
responsibilities my organization has taken on," Skinner sighed.  For 
the thousandth time today he wished that Kimberly wasn't dead.  He 
had a memorial marker erected at a local cemetery for her after 
learning she didn't have any relatives.
          
Fred Davis leaned tiredly against the handrail in the elevator.  "I've 
been trying to contact the relatives of the women tenants we had 
living here.  The building's owners want to rent their apartments, and 
they want me to dispose of the women's possessions," the old man 
grumbled.  "It's just not right!  They haven't even been dead a month 
yet!  All those money grubbing bastards are interested in is their 
profit margins."
           
Skinner shook his head sadly -- nothing surprised him anymore.  
"That's a large job, Fred, have you been able to locate any of their 
relatives?"  
       
"I've only reached ten, and they all gave me permission to dispose of 
the property as I saw fit.  They didn't sound emotionally up to dealing 
with something as trivial as material possessions."
        
The chime to Skinner's floor rang and he stepped out.  "Don't work 
too hard, Fred.  See you later."
         
"You too, Walter."
       
***
       
Orphanage
Thursday, March 12
6:30 p.m.
          
Fox Mulder leaned forward in his chair, spooning another teaspoon 
full of the pureed carrots into the baby's mouth.  He glanced around 
the dining room, watching the young boys as they ate.  This was only 
half of them, the older boys ate after the younger boys were through 
and put to bed.  The noise was unbelievably loud, he was developing 
a severe headache; he didn't see how the gunmen could handle being 
here all day and all night.  Byers sat next to him attending to two 
other babies, next to him were ten teenage boys between the ages of 
twelve and sixteen who had each been given the responsibility of a 
baby.  Five college students were responsible for supervising the 
boys and the other babies and toddlers.
       
Father Joseph seemed to have a sixth sense about the boys and their 
ability to handle the responsibility and had specifically selected them 
to look after and care for the babies.  Two of the boys were older 
brothers of the babies, and had asked to help with their care.  Mulder 
noticed that Father Joseph was alert to all the boys' needs, fluttering 
around the dining room from one table to another.  He watched as 
Frohike walked around making sure the boys were eating and 
comforting a few who sat quietly, barely touching their meals.
         
Mulder watched the other male volunteers -- most of them were 
college students.  They worked in teams of two and were each 
assigned a group of twenty-six boys.  The groups were determined by 
what floor the boys were assigned to -- there were twenty-seven 
floors in the hotel, hence twenty-seven groups.
         
"Fox, Fox, Fox."  Five little boys between the age four and five came 
running over to him.  "We're all finished."  On their clothing was an 
iron-on patch with the number six on it, signifying that they were part 
of group six, assigned to the sixth floor. 
         
"Are you now?  Did you eat everything?"  Mulder smiled, setting the 
baby food jar aside as one of the little boys climbed up on his lap.
        
"YES!  Can you tuck us in and read us a story?"  They all gave him 
cute puppy-dog looks as they pleaded with him.
        
Mulder looked around for Frohike, he was supposed to be helping 
him in the kitchen with the second round of dinners for the older 
boys after this group was done.
         
Two college students wearing buttons with the number six on shirts 
walked over to them.  They had a group of twenty-one boys with 
them between the ages of four and ten.  "Mulder, why don't you and 
Bill take the kids up and read to them, I'll help Melvin in the 
kitchen," Tom said.
         
"Sure, Tom, if you don't mind?"  Mulder said, standing.
        
"Well, working with Melvin is a major sacrifice, but someone has to 
do it," Tom sighed.
        
"I'll put you in for a medal," Mulder quipped, looking at the baby 
he'd been feeding, then over to Byers.  "Byers, can you watch my 
baby for me?" A horrified look crossed Mulder's face.  "Please, tell 
me I didn't just say that?"
         
"What's wrong, Mulder, never pictured yourself as a father?"  Byers 
asked, moving his chair closer to the baby Mulder had been taking 
care of.
        
"No, never, no way, definitely not," the agent muttered.  Taking two 
of the little boys' hands, he followed Bill and the group of children 
out of the dining room.
         
The eight to ten year olds clamored onto one elevator leaving one of 
the other three elevators for Mulder and Bill and the younger 
children.  Mulder ended up going to every room on the sixth floor, 
even the older children had requested stories from him, but unlike the 
smaller children they wanted to here about his FBI cases.  To their 
enjoyment, Mulder entertained them with the story of how he killed a 
twenty-foot man eating alligator, while searching for Big Blue.  By 
the time he returned to the dining room, Frohike was just serving the 
older boys dinner and the noise level was considerably quieter.
         
"Well, Mulder, what do you think?"  Langly asked.
        
"Being an FBI agent is an easier job by far.  I don't know how you 
guys handle this twenty-four hours a day.  I've only been here four 
hours and I'm wiped," Mulder sighed.
        
"Its really self-fulfilling work," Byers replied.  "Mulder, you might 
gripe, but we all saw how you were with those kids, you're a natural."
         
Mulder blushed at the praise.  "Well, if you don't need me anymore 
tonight, I think I'll be heading home.  I need to be into work early 
tomorrow," Mulder said, yawning tiredly.
         
"Goodnight, Mulder.  We'll see you tomorrow night," Langly and 
Byers replied in unison.
         
Mulder headed for the exit off the kitchen.  He used the key Frohike 
had given to unlock the heavy metal door, securing it behind him.  
He stumbled to his car and sat behind his wheel a few seconds 
willing himself to stay awake, luckily, he didn't have far to drive.
      
On the way to his apartment building he passed several army patrol 
vehicles, they left him alone after noting his government issued plates 
and the authorization sticker in the back window of his car.  Mulder 
parked in front of his building and climbed exhaustedly out of the 
car.  
         
A scraping sound like dried leaves caught his immediate attention.  
The sound was coming from his right hand side, he spun around, and 
quickly dodged as a fanged creature with milky white skin, and red 
eyes attacked him.  One of the creatures' claws slashed across his 
chest and ribs tearing his flesh open to the bone.  Mulder screamed in 
pain, stumbling, he fell over on his back, trying desperately to free 
his gun as the creature stalked toward him.
       
A deep menacing growl sounded from behind him, raising the hairs 
on the back of Mulder's neck.  However, before he could look over 
his shoulder, a large furry shape jumped over him and launched itself 
at the creature, ripping at its throat.  Mulder finally succeeded in 
freeing his handgun and aimed it at the two fiercely fighting 
creatures.  It took his mind a few seconds to process that the second 
creature was a German Shepherd. 
        
Mulder steadied his aim and squeezed the trigger, shooting the ghoul 
through its head.  It fell to the ground, twitching once, twice, then 
laid still -- dead.  He heard shouts and booted feet running toward 
him as he slowly started to lose consciousness.  The front of his shirt 
was drenched in blood.  
        
A National Guardsman knelt over him as another called for an 
ambulance.  "Hang on, buddy, you're going to be okay."
         
"Where's the dog?" Mulder asked weakly.
        
"Dog?  Sorry, I didn't see any dog.  There's only you and whatever 
the hell that was you shot," the guardsman replied.
       
"It's a ghoul," Mulder replied then slipped into unconsciousness. 
          
***
       
DC General Hospital
Friday, March 13
2:00 a.m.
          
Skinner strolled anxiously down the hospital corridor heading for the 
emergency room.  He had received a call that Mulder had been 
admitted after being attacked by a ghoul outside his apartment 
building.  
        
He recognized an elderly doctor leaning tiredly against a wall in the 
hallway.  "Sam," he greeted.
        
"Walter, it's nice to see you again . . . it's been awhile," Doctor Sam 
Harris replied, looking the large bald man over.
         
"It's good to see you to, Sam," Skinner stated, stopping in front of his 
friend.  "I'm looking for one of my agents, he was brought in about 
four hours ago."
        
"Fox Mulder?"  Harris asked.
       
"Yeah, that's him.  Sam, do you know how he is?"
        
"He lost a lot of blood and had some bone deep cuts across his chest.  
I just finished stitching him up and he's been given a transfusion, he's 
going to be fine.  C'mon, I'll take you to him.  I have an intern 
dressing his wounds."
        
Harris led Skinner down the hallway and into an examination room.  
Mulder was sitting quietly on a table, clad only in his boxers, as an 
intern wrapped gauze around his chest, covering up the stitches.  
"James, how's it going?" the doctor asked.
         
"I'm almost done, Doctor."
         
"Agent Mulder, how are you feeling?"  Skinner asked, walking over 
to his side.  He noticed the deep purplish-black bruise on Mulder's 
back from his run-in with the n'thral two days ago.  Seeing the new 
damage tore at Skinner's heart.
         
Mulder smiled weakly.  "Like hell, sir," he sighed, the painkiller 
Harris had given him four hours earlier was beginning to wear off.  
"They took that thing that attacked me downstairs to the morgue.  I'm 
going down there as soon as James is finished."
          
"No you're not, Agent Mulder," Doctor Harris interjected.  "I don't 
want you traipsing all over the hospital in your condition . . . I'm 
holding you overnight for observation."
         
"Doctor, I'm not that badly injured," Mulder whined.
         
"I just used two hundred and fifty stitches to close up your chest, so 
don't tell me you're not badly injured," Harris growled.
       
"Agent Mulder, listen to your doctor," Skinner ordered.
         
"But, sir, that was a ghoul that attacked me . . . we need to alert the 
public!" the agent protested.  "We have to study that thing and 
discover its weaknesses."
         
"Mulder, I think you've already discovered its weakness -- a bullet to 
the head!  You weren't the only one attacked tonight, there were 
twenty other incidences reported across the country, it has become 
the top news story."
         
"God, it's starting," Mulder sighed.  The number of men suffering 
from the Neanderthal mutation was increasing, two hundred more 
had been reported in the D.C. area alone over the past two days, now 
they had ghouls to worry about.  "Sir, have there been any reports of 
anyone with the clairvoyant or sorcerer mutations, yet?" he asked, 
allowing Skinner to help him off the table.  He swayed on his feet as 
a wave of dizziness hit him, only Skinner's strong arms kept him from 
falling. 
       
"C'mon, Mulder, let's get you into bed.  You can worry about your 
mutants tomorrow," Skinner advised gently, helping the agent over to 
a wheelchair.  He was careful not touch Mulder's injury as he 
lowered his warm body into the chair.
         
"Sorry," Mulder murmured, embarrassed.  He didn't want to appear 
weak and helpless in front of Skinner.  However, the past weeks of 
too little sleep and not enough to eat on top of his recent injury had 
finally caused his body to shutdown in protest.
        
Skinner studied him briefly -- he was a wreck.  "Mulder, you have 
nothing to apologize for.  You were lucky that thing didn't kill you.  
By the way, what were you doing out at that time of night?" he asked, 
walking next to Mulder as the intern wheeled him into an elevator.
        
As the elevator lurched up, Mulder closed his eyes for a few seconds, 
trying to calm his stomach.  "I was just getting home . . . I'm doing 
some volunteer work at one of the local orphanages."  He tiredly ran 
his fingers through his hair as the intern wheeled him off the elevator.
        
"Mulder, it's very noble of you to help out, but you've been putting in 
fourteen hour days at work, you're going to burn yourself out," 
Skinner admonished softly.
         
"Sir, it's only for three days a week . . . the orphanage is really 
understaffed."  He groaned in pain as he was helped out of the chair 
and onto the hospital bed.
        
The intern spoke up in Mulder's defense.  "We're having the same 
problem here, and believe me, the few volunteers that we have are 
really a godsend."
         
Doctor Harris walked into the room carrying a tray, which he placed 
on the portable table by the hospital bed.  "Here, take these."  He 
handed Mulder two tablets and a glass of water.
       
"What is it?"
       
"Don't worry, Mulder, it's only Tylenol #3."
           
Mulder took the pills, washing them down with a Dixie Cup of water.  
He handed the cup back to Doctor Harris and laid back against the 
pillow, he was completely exhausted.  The moment his eyes closed, 
he was soundly asleep.
        
Skinner watched as the intern adjusted the covers over Mulder's 
slumbering body.  He turned to Doctor Harris. "Where are his 
clothes?" he asked quietly.
         
"They're still in the examination room."  Harris noted the concerned 
look his friend leveled at the sleeping man.  "Have you been his boss 
long?"
        
"Over six years.  C'mon, Sam, I want to collect his clothes and get a 
look at that ghoul in the morgue."
         
"Okay, Walter, I wanted to see that thing, too, before the CDC comes 
to collect it," Harris replied. 
         
They headed downstairs to the morgue first.  The creature's body was 
laid out on a table in the center of the room.  Several of the hospital 
staff stood around it talking.  
       
"Hey, Sam, have you ever seen anything more hideous?" Doctor 
Conner asked as Harris and Skinner walked up to the table.
          
The ghoul's skin was devoid of all pigment and hairless.  The body 
was bone thin and there were two-inch claws on each of its long 
fingers.  Skinner shuddered as he noted the sharp fangs protruding 
from the ghoul's mouth.  There was a bullet hole in the middle of its 
forehead and greenish fluid had leaked out of the wound.  He allowed 
his eyes to roam down the body -- there wasn't a sex organ, not even 
a shriveled up penis.  Skinner saw no indication that this thing had 
once been a human male.
         
"I'd say it's a good thing that we installed those window and door 
bars on the first two floors.  I'd hate to think what would happen if 
one of these things got loose in the hospital," Harris stated.  
        
"Oh yeah, *now* you say that it was a good idea, Sam.  When I was 
having them installed you bellyached about what a waste of money 
they were," the head of hospital security grumbled.
        
"Okay, I admit it . . . I was wrong."
           
Skinner only half listened to their argument, he wanted to get back to 
Mulder.  He didn't like the idea of him being alone and defenseless, 
not if there was even the slightest possibility that one of these things 
could get inside the hospital.  "Sam, I'm going back upstairs to see 
how Mulder is doing," he said, heading for the door.
         
Skinner stopped in the examination room first to collect his agent's 
clothes.  The T-shirt was a total loss and there were bloodstains on 
the leather jacket and jeans.  The A.D. took the time to fold 
everything neatly, picking up Mulder's shoes and holstered gun, he 
placed them on top of the pile of clothing then headed for the 
elevator.
         
Mulder was soundly asleep when he walked into the room.  He 
placed the clothes on the shelf in small closet then pulled over a chair 
and sat next to the bed.  It wasn't often that he had the opportunity to 
study the younger man unobserved.  God, he'd almost lost him 
tonight!  After six years of being hopelessly in love with Fox Mulder, 
he didn't know how he'd be able to cope with losing him.  He 
promised himself that he'd be more vigilant in protecting the agent 
from harm -- Skinner reached out and touched Mulder's hand.
        
***    
       
Mulder was in pain when he awoke, groaning, he tried to open his 
heavily sleep-encrusted eyes.  A minute later, he felt a cool wet 
washcloth being gently run over his face and eyes removing the 
sandy grit.  He was finally able to see and he gazed up into Skinner's 
warm brown eyes.
        
"Hi.  How are you feeling?"
         
"Hurt," he whispered.  His voice sounded rough and dry.
        
"Here, drink this.  Then you can take these," Skinner said, raising the 
bed, he handed Mulder a cup of water.  After he drained it, Skinner 
refilled the cup then gave the agent the two tablets.
        
Mulder swallowed the medicine then laid back against the pillows.  
"How long?"
         
"You've been sleeping for twelve hours, it's three o'clock in the 
afternoon," Skinner replied.  He walked over to the table and started 
putting the reports he'd been working on back into his briefcase.  He 
had had Agent Boutotte bring them down to the hospital for him.
         
"Sir, have you been here the whole time?"  Mulder asked, noticing 
that Skinner was still wearing the same clothes he had on the day 
before and that he looked haggard. 
         
"Ah, yeah.  The intern was right, the hospital is understaffed, and I 
didn't want to leave you unattended in case you woke up in pain or in 
need of assistance," Skinner replied sincerely.
          
"I'm sorry that I put you through so much trouble, you must be 
exhausted.  I'm fine now, if you'd like to go home."  Mulder felt 
deeply touched that his boss had stayed with him, but at the same 
time he felt awkward at the concern he saw in Skinner's eyes.
        
"It was no trouble, Agent Mulder.  In fact, I was able to get more 
paperwork done here than I would have at the office," Skinner 
groused, smiling softly.  "Doctor Harris said you can leave as soon as 
he stops by to check on you and change the dressings."
        
"Good, I'd like to go home," Mulder sighed.  "Oh shit!  I need to call 
my friends at the orphanage and tell them that I won't be able to make 
it there tonight," he stated anxiously.
       
"I'd be surprised if they didn't already know that," Skinner said, 
handing Mulder his cell-phone.
       
"Why would they know that?"  Mulder inquired.
        
"Because the run-in you had with that ghoul last night has been on all 
the local news programs."
        
Mulder's eyebrows rose over that news as he waited for someone to 
pickup on the other end.  "Frohike, it's me."
          
Mulder adjusted the phone into a more comfortable position.  "I'm 
fine . . . no really, I am.  I was just calling to tell you that I won't be 
able to make it tonight."
        
Mulder rolled his eyes sarcastically over the response from the other 
end.  "Very funny, Frohike.  No, you don't have to.  I'll be fine," he 
sighed.  "Oh okay, if you insist, see you tomorrow.  Bye."  Mulder 
handed the phone back to Skinner.
         
"I take it your friend was worried?" Skinner asked.
          
"Yeah, he's dropping off some groceries for me tomorrow and fixing 
me lunch." 
        
Skinner felt a wave of jealousy; he didn't like the idea of anyone 
being that close to his . . . ?  His what?  God, he was losing it.  He 
quickly pulled his thoughts away from his feelings for Mulder.  "I'm 
going to see if Doctor Harris is here, yet.  He was suppose to be in at 
three o'clock p.m."
         
Two hours later Skinner took Mulder home.  He had tried to 
convince Mulder to stay at his place overnight in his guestroom, but 
the agent refused.  He had insisted on walking Mulder up to his 
apartment, and was relieved to see the new locks on the door and the 
bars over the windows.
         
"Mulder, I want you to call me if you need anything, and I don't want 
to see you back in the office until I after I've received Doctor Harris' 
written approval allowing you to return to work."
        
"Yes, sir," Mulder mumbled.
       
"Good night, Agent Mulder," Skinner said.  Turning reluctantly, he 
headed toward the elevator. 
         
Mulder watched him until he stepped on the elevator, then stepped 
back inside his apartment and locked the door.
        
***    
         
Mulder slowly opened his eyes; something had awakened him from a 
sound sleep.  He glanced nervously around his darkened apartment 
listening to the stillness.  Sighing, he started to drift back to sleep 
when he heard it, a noise coming from outside his front door.  He 
stumbled off the sofa and crept over to the door, peering into the 
hallway through the peephole.  There was no one visible as the sound 
came again.  He grabbed his gun and unlocked the deadbolts, slowly 
opening the door with the metal chain still in place.  The door was 
pushed open suddenly and a long nose shoved its way through the 
opening, startling Mulder, he then started chucking with relief.
       
"Hold on, let me get the door open," Mulder gasped.  He pushed the 
door closed and unfastened the chain then opened it.  In ran a large 
German Shepherd panting excitedly, it did a quick inspection of the 
room then came back over to Mulder jumping up on him and licking 
his face.
      
Mulder cringed in pain as the dog pressed against his recent wounds.  
"Down boy," he admonished.  Kneeling, he recognized the dog as the 
one that had saved his life from the night before.
       
"Now, how did you get into the building?" he asked, while checking 
the dog's collar for a name and to find out who it belonged to.  "So, 
your name is Rex.  Poor boy, you've lost your mistress," he sighed, 
seeing the female owner's name on the tag.
       
"Well, I guess you can stay here until I can find you a better home," 
Mulder said.  He knew he'd have no trouble keeping the dog since the 
apartment building had become lax on enforcing its regulations after 
the building manager's death.  He also knew that he'd never find the 
dog another home -- abandoned pets were becoming a serious 
problem.
         
The dog licked his face happily, he had decided to adopt this human 
after seeing him on the street last night.  The human definitely needed 
someone to look after him.
         
"C'mon, Rex, let's see if we can find you something to eat."  Mulder 
rose and locked the front door.  Walking into his kitchen, he dug into 
the refrigerator, pulling out three hot dogs and a package of sliced 
roast beef.  "Sorry, it's not much, but I have a friend stopping at the 
grocery store for me tomorrow, I'll have him pick up a large bag of 
dog food."  Mulder put the meat on a plate and set it on the floor, 
sitting back on his heels, he watched the dog wolf it down hungrily.  
           
"I'll bet you're thirsty, too," he murmured, scratching the dog behind 
the ears.  He stood and retrieved a large mixing bowl, filling it was 
cold tap water.  Having the dog in his apartment felt strangely 
comforting to Mulder.  He had never been much of a dog person; his 
life style never permitted him to own anything that was dependent on 
him daily for food and companionship.  All he had to do with his fish 
was drop in a feeding block and they'd be good for a week.
           
Mulder walked into his bathroom, he washed his hands then retrieved 
the bottle of Tylenol 3 tablets Doctor Harris had prescribed for him.  
The dog followed him into the small space, and Mulder wrinkled his 
nose at the smell.  
        
"Rex, tomorrow I'm giving you a bath."
         
He swallowed the tablets dry then went back toward the sofa, but the 
dog beat him.  Rex hopped on it, lying down, he gave Mulder what 
could best be described as a smug look.  
         
"Remember, he did save your life, so it wouldn't be right to kill him," 
Mulder muttered.  Turning, he went into his bedroom and climbed 
onto the hated waterbed.  He hadn't slept on it since it had sprung a 
leak, although he had had it repaired.  
          
***
       
Alexandria
Saturday, March 14
8:00 a.m.
           
Mulder sat on a park bench watching Rex run around the park 
frolicking happily as if he were a little puppy.  He kept stopping and 
glancing over at Mulder to make sure his human was okay.  They 
were at a small park just down the road from the agent's apartment 
building -- it was as far as Mulder could walk in his present 
condition.  He huddled in his coat against the chilly morning air, the 
sun was up, and it was suppose to reach the sixties today.
         
"Good morning, sir.  Is that your dog?"
         
Mulder looked up at the National Guardsman, who was leaning over 
the back of his bench.  He hadn't heard the man walk up.  However, 
Rex had, and he was instantly at Mulder's side, watching the large 
guardsman for any threatening move against his human.  
       
"Yeah, he is.  Why?"  Mulder noted that the guardsman's facial 
features were in the early stages of the Neanderthal mutation.
         
"I just thought I'd give you a friendly warning.  We've been ordered 
to shoot all stray dogs and cats on sight.  It would be advisable if 
your dog isn't out by himself," the man cautioned.
         
Mulder swallowed and he rested a protective hand on Rex's head.  
"Isn't that a bit drastic?" 
          
"I don't make the orders . . . I only follow them," the guardsman 
scoffed.  He adjusted the rifle on his shoulder and headed across the 
park.
          
"C'mon, boy, let's head home.  I need to call Frohike, so he can get 
you something to eat."
           
***
        
"Nice doggy," Frohike mumbled fearfully.  A large German 
Shepherd had him pressed up against the door and was growling 
menacingly at him with its sharp teeth showing.  "Mulder, can you 
call your dog off?" he squeaked.
          
"Down, Rex.  He's a friend," Mulder commanded as he stepped out 
of the kitchen.  Frohike had made the mistake of letting himself into 
the apartment.  
        
"He's a pretty good guard dog, isn't he?" the agent chuckled, trying to 
take the grocery bags from Frohike.  The little man held them tighter 
and brushed past Mulder, walking into the kitchen, he set the bags on 
the dinette table.  He hadn't wanted Mulder to put a strain on his 
stitches by carrying the heavy bags.
         
"I guess he is.  Are you planning on keeping him?" the little man 
asked.
        
"Yeah.  He saved my life when that ghoul attacked me, then last night 
he showed up at my door.  I still haven't figured out how he got into 
the apartment building."
         
"Mulder, I left the bag of dog chow in my car . . . I'll run downstairs 
and get it."  Frohike headed for the door, returning five minutes later 
with a twenty-pound bag of dog food, a dog bowl balanced on his 
head, and in his mouth was a plastic bag.
          
Mulder snatched the bowl off his head and the bag out of his mouth, 
in the bag he found a large rawhide bone.  "Frohike, the dog food 
would have been enough, you didn't have to put yourself out."
         
"Hey, what are friends for.  Besides, I kinda feel guilty . . . you 
wouldn't have been out the other night if you hadn't been helping us 
at the orphanage."  He tore open the bag and took the stainless steel 
dog bowl back from Mulder, filling it with the dry dog food.
          
"Here you go, Rex."
          
The dog cautiously sniffed at the food the little man had placed on 
the floor then looked over at Mulder.  "It's okay, Rex," the agent 
replied.  At Mulder's okay, the dog dug hungrily into the food.  
        
"Mulder, only you would get a dog as paranoid as you are," Frohike 
laughed.  "I'm going to make us tacos for lunch, why don't you go 
and watch television and I'll bring it out to you when it's ready."
         
"Can't I give you a hand?" Mulder asked.
         
"No.  Go and relax, I have it covered."  Frohike started putting the 
groceries away, leaving out the ground beef, lettuce, tomato, 
shredded cheese, taco shells, and seasonings.
          
Mulder went into the living room, flipping on the television; he sat 
on the sofa.  Rex jumped up next to him, resting his head on the 
agent's lap.  Mulder absently started scratching behind the dog's ears 
as a special report came on, advising men to seek more secure places 
for them and their families to live because the recent ghoul attacks.  
       
The reporter interviewed a doctor who showed what symptoms to 
look for when a man was mutating into a ghoul or a Neanderthal.  A 
man suffering from the Neanderthal mutation was easy to spot during 
the beginning stages of the mutation: increased appetite, a sudden 
growth spurt, and enlargement of the cranium were the primary 
things to watch for.  The mutation took three weeks once the first 
symptoms appeared.  A ghoul was less easy to spot because the 
mutation was very rapid, the victim could mutate within two days 
after the first symptoms appeared, which were: sensitivity to bright 
lights, sudden hair loss, and reclusive behavior.  A government 
spokesman came on the television with a 1-800 number for men to 
call if they suspected an acquaintance might have the ghoul mutation.
         
Frohike came into the living room with a glass of ice tea for Mulder.  
"What the reporter isn't saying is that they're going to kill all men 
with the ghoul mutation.  The government is even going to start a 
biweekly monitoring program of the pubescent boys at all 
orphanages nationwide," he grumbled.
         
"Fro, I see nothing wrong with the monitoring program.  If a boy 
comes down with the ghoul mutation, it could end up killing many of 
the little children at the orphanage.  You have to remember that a 
ghoul is no longer human."
         
"Mulder, the government could lock them up, while they're looking 
for a cure for the mutation, they don't have to kill them," the little 
man argued.
           
"Lock them where?  We don't even have the people to staff our 
hospitals or orphanages, let alone stand guard over a lethal race of 
ghouls whose favorite food is humans.  I've met one of those things 
face-to-face, and believe me, all that thing was interested in was a 
quick meal."  Mulder rested his hand on his chest -- one swipe of that 
creature's claws nearly killed him.  If it had been a few inches higher, 
it would have ripped his throat out.
       
"Okay, forget the ghouls, what about the Neanderthals?  Is it fair that 
boys with the mutation are to be removed from their friends and sent 
to a facility solely for teenage Neanderthals?"  Frohike shouted 
angrily, waving his hands around.
        
"I thought you were making me lunch?"  Mulder sighed.  He had to 
tighten his hold on Rex; the dog had begun to growl at Frohike.  Rex 
didn't like the little man yelling at his human.
         
"Oh, sorry," he replied, embarrassed.  Mulder was in no condition to 
be arguing with him, he'd take this issue up with him when he was 
better.  "Coming right up, Mulder."
         
***
        
Skinner finished the last of his paperwork.  Checking the clock, he 
found it was four o'clock p.m.  He wondered how Mulder was doing; 
it had been almost twenty-four hours since he dropped him off at his 
apartment.  Mulder's friend was suppose to have dropped off 
groceries and fixed him lunch today, so Skinner resisted the urge to 
call him.  He decided instead to stop by and check on him tomorrow, 
it would be Sunday and for once, he didn't have to go into the office.
          
He headed out of his office, with luck he'd make it to the liquor store 
before it closed in a half-hour.  He carried his coat to the car, 
throwing it into the backseat; the weather was a pleasant sixty-four 
degrees.
         
Skinner drove past several closed business and restaurants on his way 
to Crystal City.  He pulled into his neighborhood strip mall, parking 
in front of the liquor store.  He stopped in the doorway and stared 
with shock at the man behind the register, he had known him for over 
three years.  
        
"Chuck?  Is that you?"  Skinner asked in awe.  The liquor storeowner 
used to be five feet, eight inches tall and skinny.  The man that stood 
before him now was close to seven feet tall, with broad shoulders, 
and had a protruding forehead that was indicative of a Neanderthal.
        
"Hey, Walter.  Yeah, it's me, what can I get you?"
         
"A twelve-pack of Guinness Stout, a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, 
and two bottles of Merlot."  Skinner glanced around the store -- he 
didn't see anyone besides the store manager, Chuck.
        
"You're looking nice this afternoon, Walter.  Are you heading 
straight home?"  Chuck asked, licking his lips, he looked Skinner 
over while ringing up his purchases.
        
"Ah, yeah, it's been a long day," Skinner mumbled, pulling out his 
wallet, he handed the man a hundred.
         
"You know, Walter, with the women gone, we have to start relying 
on each other for pleasure.  What do you say if I closed up shop and 
followed you back to your place?  We can get down," the larger man 
leered.  Handing Skinner back his change, he grasped the smaller 
man's hand, caressing it.
          
Skinner jerked his hand away in disgust.  "I don't think so, Chuck," 
he growled, picking up his purchases, he stormed out of the store.  
All that he could think about was what chance did someone like Fox 
Mulder have against these Neanderthals, if even he was subjected to 
their lust.
         
When Skinner arrived back at his apartment building, he ran into 
several agents from the bureau in the lobby.  "Agents, what are you 
doing here?"
         
"Good afternoon, sir," Agent Boutotte said.  "Vinny, Jack, Ron, and 
myself are going to be moving in here with our families."
         
"Moving in here?" Skinner questioned.
         
Agent Pipino stepped forward, he had his five sons with him.  "Yeah, 
after what happened to Agent Mulder Thursday evening, we got to 
talking and all agreed that for safety reasons a security apartment 
building would be preferable to our suburban homes," he blurted out.  
          
"There are several other FBI agents coming out tomorrow to sign 
leases," Underwood informed him.  
         
The packages Skinner was holding were getting heavy.
         
"Sir, can I give you a hand?"  Sullivan offered.  Quickly taking the 
bag from Skinner before the A.D. could protest, he ushered him into 
the elevator.  When they were alone in the elevator Sullivan started to 
explain.  "Sir, it's not only for security reasons that the men want to 
move in here.  Most of the men want to get away from the painful 
memories of their wives and daughters.  It will be beneficial for them 
to have other men close by who they can turn to, and the building 
owners are giving them a big reduction on the rent."
         
Skinner could understand that reasoning.  "What about you, Jack, any 
family?" 
         
"No, sir, I am a bachelor."
          
Skinner unlocked his apartment door, stepping inside, he headed for 
his kitchen.  "Thanks, Jack.  I've noticed the men seem to look up to 
you . . . even Agent Mulder," he said cautiously.
       
"Agent Mulder and I have a grudging respect for each other, but I 
don't think he looks up to anyone except you, sir."  Sullivan glanced 
around the kitchen, then back at Skinner.  "Sir, may I ask you how 
Mulder is doing?"
        
"He was fine when I dropped him at his apartment yesterday."
        
"You didn't talk to him today?"
          
"No. Why?"
          
"Well, sir, with Dana Scully gone I'd just assumed that you'd taken 
over looking out for him.  Mulder never struck me as having too 
many people that cared for him, and he does tend to draw a 
disproportionate amount of trouble."
        
"Jack, Agent Mulder is a grown man and he's quite capable of taking 
care of himself.  However, I do plan on stopping by to check on him 
tomorrow because you're right about one thing . . . he does tend to be 
a magnet for trouble," Skinner replied sullenly.  He didn't want 
Sullivan to see how really concerned he was about Mulder.
         
"Well, I'd better be going.  I just wanted you to know why so many 
FBI agents and their families are going to be moving into this 
building.  We don't want you to feel like we're invading your 
privacy," Sullivan replied as Skinner walked him to the front door.
         
"Thanks, Jack," Skinner replied.  He closed the door wondering if he 
could convince Mulder to move into the building, it would save him 
a lot of worry.
        
***
       
Alexandria
Sunday, March 15
10:00 a.m.
                          
Skinner slowed his car down as he passed the small park by Mulder's 
apartment building.  He recognized his agent sitting on one of the 
benches with his back to him.  Skinner decided to park his car in 
front of Mulder's building then walk back to the park. 
        
He picked up the paper bag sitting next to him on the front seat, 
locking the car door he headed down the street to the park.  As he 
walked into the park, Skinner noticed the large dog in the distance 
racing around.  The dog stopped and stared right at him.  Mulder 
turned around on the bench trying to see what had Rex's attention.
        
"Sir, what are you doing here?" he asked, surprised.
         
"Agent Mulder, I thought I'd stop by and see how you're feeling," 
Skinner replied.  Sitting next to Mulder, he reached into the paper 
bag and pulled out two Styrofoam cups of coffee, passing one to 
Mulder.  "I stopped at the bakery on my way here and picked us up 
some cinnamon rolls to go with the coffee."
         
"Thanks," Mulder mumbled.  Setting the coffee next to him on the 
bench, he took the large, heavily frosted cinnamon roll from his boss.  
     
Rex had wandered over and sat staring at the large roll then back to 
Skinner, wondering if the bald man brought him one, too.
       
"Who's the dog?" Skinner asked.  Breaking off a piece of his roll, he 
tossed it to the dog that caught it in the air and gulped it down in one 
swallow. 
        
"That's Rex, he's sort of my dog," Mulder said, watching as the dog 
got closer to Skinner, sniffing him.  "He seems to like you."
         
"I've always had a way with dogs.  No offense, Mulder, but I've never 
pictured you as a dog owner."  Skinner took another bite of the roll 
then peeled another slice off for Rex.
        
"I'm not, he's more or less adopted me.  He seems to have taken an 
interest in protecting me," Mulder replied, watching his boss and Rex 
interact.  
        
"How so?"  Skinner asked.  Mulder now had his undivided attention.
       
"He's the dog that rescued me from the ghoul the other night.  Then 
in the park yesterday when a guardsman approached me, Rex was at 
my side immediately and kept a close eye on the man.  He even 
corned my friend when he let himself into my apartment."
          
"Good boy," Skinner praised the dog, allowing him to lick the sticky 
icing from his fingers.  "Owning a dog for protection is really a good 
idea, Mulder, especially one that is able to fend off a ghoul."
         
"Yeah, but they're a lot of responsibility, what happens when I have 
to go out of town on a case?  I have no one to watch him," Mulder 
sighed.  He'd been starting to worry about that.
         
"That won't be a problem, Mulder, I'll be happy to take care of him 
for you," Skinner said, scratching the dog behind his ears.
         
"I don't want to put you out, sir," Mulder replied hesitantly.
        
"You're not.  It gives me peace of mind knowing that you have 
someone that is watching out for you.  I've been worried about you 
living all alone with the increasing number of n'thrals," the older man 
stated honestly.  He thought back to his experience the day before 
with Chuck at the liquor store.
       
"I can take care of myself."
        
"Mulder, it's not a question of whether or not you can take care of 
yourself.  Those things are dangerous, it doesn't hurt to have a little 
added protection."
        
"Yeah, I suppose.  It does make me feel safer having him with me. I 
plan on taking him jogging with me, when I'm better," the agent 
replied, reaching out to pet his dog.
        
"Are you still in pain?"
       
"It's not as bad as it was, but the stitches are starting to itch, which is 
really annoying," Mulder stated.  "So how are you doing?  I see 
you've finally taken a Sunday off."
          
"I finally hit the bottom of my pile of paperwork," he grinned.  "I ran 
into some of our agents at my apartment building yesterday, they're 
planning on moving in with their families."  Skinner leaned back 
against the bench, it was relaxing to just sit and talk to Mulder.
        
"Yeah?  Now that should be interesting, doesn't your building have a 
no kids clause in the lease?" 
        
"It used to, but considering the current state of things, it's been 
revised.  Besides, I would welcome having kids in the building . . . 
it's been too quiet lately," Skinner sighed.
         
"Same with my building.  At least I don't have to wait to use the 
washing machines in the basement," Mulder replied, picking up a 
stick, he threw it out to Rex.
         
"All apartments at Viva Towers have washers and dryers.  Maybe 
you should consider moving there, too," the older man suggested 
nonchalantly.
       
"Yeah right, me living in the same building with other FBI agents," 
Mulder scoffed.  "No offense, sir, but I receive enough ridicule from 
them at the office, I don't need it where I live, too."
       
"Mulder, no one at the bureau ridicules you anymore.  Most of the 
agents have a deep respect for you and everything you've gone 
through," Skinner replied softly.
         
"Maybe so, but it's been hard for me to forget past slights or to even 
accept that their respect is sincere," he said sadly.
         
"Mulder, you have put the past behind you and move on."
         
"I've been trying, but it's not easy," Mulder replied with a weak smile 
as he watched a humvee roll by down the street.
         
***
       
One Month later
Orphanage
Thursday, April 16
10:00 a.m.
                      
Frohike growled angrily as the men from the newly formed 
Neanderthal Control Unit came and took four boys that had started 
showing symptoms of the Neanderthal mutation from the orphanage.  
He and the other men had hidden the boys during the biweekly 
mandatory inspections, but unfortunately, a man he had thought was 
his friend had snitched on them.
        
"You're all nothing but a bunch of fucking Nazis!" the little man 
snarled.
          
Mulder stood to the side as the boys were led away to a waiting van.  
He was the one that had turned them into the government.  The agent 
knew how dangerous the boys would become to the other children at 
the orphanage, and he saw no other way to handle the situation other 
than having the boys removed.
         
Frohike came angrily over to him.  "Get your fucking *traitorous* ass 
out of here, Agent Mulder, I don't ever want to see you again!  WE 
ARE THROUGH!" he snapped, saliva flying out of his mouth. 
         
"Frohike, you have to realize there was nothing else I could do," 
Mulder murmured softly, wiping the spittle from his face.
         
"Get the *hell* out of here!  You're a *cold* heartless bastard, no 
wonder you have *no* friends!"  Frohike stabbed Mulder in the chest 
with his finger as he enunciated each word.
       
Mulder cringed in pain, his wounds had healed, but the area was still 
sore and Frohike's pokes were as painful as his words.  The agent 
backed away, turning, he walked back to his car with his head bowed, 
and his shoulders slumped.  
                
***
       
Alexandria
Saturday, May 16
11:00 a.m.
                
Mulder stood sadly in front of the mirror running a hand over the 
raised white scars on his chest, it had been two months since the 
ghoul had attacked him.  The dog sat at his feet looking up at him 
with undisguised love.  
        
"Hey, Rex, are you ready to go jogging?" 
       
The dog barked his agreement, watching his human pull on a 
sweatshirt.  
         
Mulder bent and strapped on his ankle holster then grabbed a fanny 
pack that held his cell phone, ID, wallet, and keys.  "C'mon, boy."
       
They were very quiet as they left his apartment taking the back 
staircase while avoiding the elevator.  Mulder had interrupted two of 
his n'thral neighbors fucking like animals in the elevator a month ago 
and didn't want a repeat performance.  There were four n'thrals living 
in his apartment building and they were endlessly hitting on him.  
They had been getting bolder in their propositions, if it weren't for 
their fear of Rex -- he thought they might have resorted to force.
          
Mulder cringed when he saw two of his n'thral neighbors hanging out 
in front of the building.  They were talking to one of the National 
Guardsmen that patrolled the neighborhood who was also a n'thral.  
The shortest of the n'thrals was still seven inches taller than Mulder 
and the largest was a good foot taller.
       
"Okay, Rex, act tough," Mulder muttered to his dog as he stepped 
outside.
         
All three n'thrals immediately focused their attention on him.  "Hey, 
beautiful.  Has anyone ever told you what a gorgeous butt you have?  
It's perfect for fucking.  Don't you agree, Freddy?" 
         
"Oh yeah, Gonzo.  He has a very fuckable ass," Freddy leered down 
at Mulder.  The n'thral stepped back quickly when Rex started 
growling and snapping at him. 
         
The guardsman stepped forward, snarling.  "Boy, there are 
regulations against dangerous animals.  I just may have to shoot that 
dog," he threatened.
          
Mulder had had it with these morons.  "And I just may have to have 
your ugly ass transferred to North Dakota, Sergeant O'Brien," he 
growled, flipping open his badge.  "And for your information it's 
SAC Mulder of the FBI, not boy!"  He watched with satisfaction as 
the color drained from the large n'thral's face.  The sergeant was 
aware that as a SAC, Mulder had the authority to do just what he said 
he would.  
       
"Now get the fuck out of our way!"  Mulder snapped.
         
"Yes, sir.  Sorry, sir, I meant no disrespect," O'Brien mumbled 
insincerely.  He didn't like being threatened or ordered around by 
someone significantly weaker than he was, but he also knew it was 
better not to challenge the human.  He backed off and allowed the 
FBI agent and the dog to pass.  After they were out of earshot, he 
turned to the other two n'thrals that were in awe over how the smaller 
man had intimidated the boisterous guardsman.
            
"That boy's ass is mine," O'Brien growled.
       
"Dream on, Agent Mulder had you by the balls!  There is no way he's 
ever going to allow you to fuck him," Freddy replied.  He still 
maintained some of his youthful innocence, being only seventeen.
        
"Who said anything about allowing?  Kid, you had better get with the 
program.  We're bigger and stronger than humans are, which makes 
us superior to them.  It's only a matter of time before we take over 
this world and they become our personal sex slaves," O'Brien 
boasted.
      
"Oh cool, so we'd get to fuck them anytime we felt like it?" Gonzo 
grinned, enjoying that idea.
          
Freddy wasn't sure he wanted someone that was unwilling to be his 
lover.  His mother had been a very religious woman, and she had 
instilled a deep sense of morality in her son.  Although he enjoyed 
sex and was constantly horny, he wanted his partner to be willing.  
He wondered if he should warn Mulder about O'Brien.
          
Mulder started jogging once he rounded the corner of his apartment 
building.  He was angry with himself for being intimated by those 
slowwitted n'thrals.  Maybe he should have taken Skinner up on his 
suggestion that he move into his apartment building. Viva Tower had 
enacted a no n'thral restriction in its lease.  Unfortunately, when he 
checked last week, he discovered that all the apartments had already 
been rented, most of them to FBI agents.  
        
"It's just as well, Rex.  I wouldn't have fit in there anyway," he 
muttered wretchedly, without Scully or the gunmen, he felt totally 
alone.  He had tried several times to call Scully, but they wouldn't 
even let him talk to her.  Only family members were permitted any 
contact with the women at Northridge.  Mulder wiped angrily at a 
tear that fell from his eye, embarrassed by showing his emotions 
outside his apartment.  Rex stayed protectively by his side as they ran 
through the park.  They did twenty laps around the empty park.  
Mulder stared sadly at the empty playground, boys were not allowed 
out on their own and their fathers were too afraid to bring them here 
by themselves.  Sometimes men would get together in large groups 
and take their sons to play ball, but it wasn't very often.
          
"What do you say if we go and grab a burger at Mike's?"  At Rex's 
approving bark the two companions ran in the direction of the 
neighborhood bar and grill.  It was one of the few restaurants still 
open in the area.  
        
On the door to the tavern was a 'No Neanderthals Permitted' sign.  
Mike's teenage son had been attacked and raped by a n'thral while 
running errands for his father, and understandably, the man had a 
deep hatred of them now.  Mulder opened the door and let Rex 
proceed him into the warm room.
       
"Hey, Mulder, how's it going?"  Mike greeted them from behind the 
bar.
        
"Fine, Mike.  How are you doing?" Mulder asked, taking his usual 
seat by the window with his chair facing the door.
          
"Good.  Pete was finally released from the hospital two days ago.  
He's upstairs playing on his computer.  The police said they might 
have a lead on the mutant bastard that attacked him," Mike replied 
angrily.  
        
"I hope they catch him," Mulder replied solemnly.  
      
There were ten other regular patrons in the pub.  "Those creatures are 
all over the fucking place.  I say the government should round em up 
and shoot em, like they're doing with those ghouls!"  An elderly man 
stated loudly.
       
Mike ignored him as he brought Mulder over a beer and placed a 
bowl of water on the floor for Rex.  "Rex, you're a good dog.  
Mulder, if you ever want to sell him, I'll give you top dollar."
         
"No way, Mike, he's the only friend I have right now."  
         
Mike noticed the sadness and loneliness in the younger man's eyes.  
"Mulder, do you and Rex want the usual?" he asked softly.
         
"Yes, please." 
        
Mike headed into the kitchen to place the order with his cook.  When 
he stepped back into the pub area, the door to the tavern opened and 
a short man with thick eyeglasses dressed in a black leather coat 
stepped in, he was wearing gloves with the fingers cut out.  He 
glanced around the pub until he spotted Mulder, walking purposely 
over to the table. 
         
"Can I sit down?" Frohike asked.
         
Mulder nodded his head and waved toward the empty chair.  "Why 
are you here?  I thought you never wanted to see me again."
        
"Mulder, I went to your place, but you weren't there, so I took a 
chance that you'd be here.  I came to apologize.  I was wrong, and 
you were right," Frohike said miserably as he brushed a tear away.
        
Mulder sat up straight, noticing the bruise on the shorter man's cheek.  
"Frohike, what happened?"
       
"One of the boys mutated into a n'thral, I thought we'd be able to 
control him.  After all, they're still somewhat intelligent, but he lost 
control and attempted to sexually assault one of the younger kids.  
Luckily, Langly and I were walking by and heard the boy's screams; 
we were able to save him in time, but barely."  Frohike reached over 
and took a sip of Mulder's beer, his hands clearly shaking.  "God, 
Mulder, if anything had happened to that child I never would have 
forgiven myself.  You were right to call the Neanderthal Control Unit 
to have the other boys with n'thral symptoms transferred to another 
facility.  I shouldn't have gotten angry with you."
         
Mike walked over to their table -- he had overheard their 
conversation.  "Melvin, what can I get for you, besides crow?"
        
"A boilermaker, thanks." Frohike glanced nervously around -- their 
conversation was the center of attention. 
         
"Frohike, I'm sorry.  It's not your fault.  You haven't seen some of the 
atrocities committed by the n'thrals that I have.  At least we don't 
have to worry about our friends turning into one; the CDC released a 
statement yesterday that all adult males who were going to mutate 
already have.  I was really worried that you, Byers, or Langly might 
have been affected by the virus," Mulder replied.
        
Mike came back with Frohike's drinks, setting them in front of him.  
He also placed a bowl of popcorn on the table.
       
"Thanks, Mike." Frohike picked up the shot glass of whiskey and 
threw it back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.  "Mulder, what about 
the other mutations?  There haven't been any reported cases of 
clairvoyants or sorcerers, yet."  
         
"I don't know, Frohike, the documents we found only mentioned that 
there was one sorcerer, maybe he was a fluke.  It could also be that 
the timeframe for those mutations take longer to gestate.  There was 
way too much data missing from that document."
       
Mike came back to the table with Mulder's lunch, a nice thick 
quarter-pound hamburger on a toasted bun with a slice of red onion, 
lettuce, and tomato.  He placed a bowl on the floor next to Rex with 
three hamburger patties in it.  
        
"Thanks, Mike."
       
"You're welcome, Mulder."
         
Frohike started munching on Mulder's fries between sips of beer.  
"How have you been doing the past month, Mulder," the shorter man 
asked tentatively.
         
"Fine, I went out of town on two cases and I didn't even get a paper 
cut.  Skinner took care of Rex for me both times."  Mulder left out 
how lonely and isolated he had been feeling lately.
        
Frohike startled, spilling his beer, he had picked up on Mulder's 
feelings of desolation.  "Oops, sorry."
         
"Is something wrong?" Mulder asked, grabbing a couple of napkins, 
he started mopping up the beer.
        
"No, nothing," Frohike stated quickly.  He tried to see if he could 
read Mulder's mind too, but he was only able to pick up on his 
emotions.  He wondered if he was in the beginning stages of the 
clairvoyant or sorcerer mutation.
        
They sat quietly while Mulder finished his hamburger.  Frohike was 
feeling guiltier by the minute for how he had treated his friend. 
          
"I'd better be heading back to my apartment, I have some reports to 
do for Skinner by Monday.  Thanks for coming to see me, Frohike," 
Mulder murmured, standing, he placed a twenty on the table.
        
"Mulder, why don't you and Rex stop over tomorrow for lunch?"
       
"Okay, sure, thanks."
        
After Mulder had left, Mike came over and picked up the twenty.  
Frohike could feel the anger pouring off the man -- it was like a 
living entity.
       
"Melvin, Mulder's a good man . . . he didn't deserve to be put through 
the wringer by you over some fucking n'thrals," Mike grumbled 
angrily.
       
"Mike, I admitted that I was wrong.  You can't imagine how sorry I 
am that I caused Mulder any pain.  It won't happen again!"  Frohike 
was relieved to feel Mike's anger subside.  "Now, bring me another 
round, please," he ordered, eating the last of the fries from Mulder's 
plate.  He felt miserable about treating Mulder the way he had, he 
hadn't realize how badly he had hurt him, until he felt Mulder's 
emotions.
        
***
       
St. Petersburg
Friday, June 5
11:00 a.m.
                
Krycek walked through the cobblestone streets toward an abandoned 
restaurant.  He passed several long food lines where men were 
waiting with their sons for their daily rations.  Krycek didn't have a 
problem finding food or whatever other luxuries he needed.  His 
father had left him quite well off financially, and along with his own 
underground connections, he was reasonably comfortable.  
       
He was on his way to meet a member of the Russian Mafia who had 
some information he desperately wanted.  He stopped across the 
street from the abandoned restaurant.  Looking the building over 
before entering -- he noted where all the exits were.  Once inside, it 
took a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. 
        
"Comrade Krycek?  My, you're very delectable."  A large n'thral 
stepped out of the shadows.  "My contact told me you were lovely, 
but his description didn't do you justice," the Mafia leader leered.
        
"Shut up!  Do you have the documents?" Krycek growled.  He hated 
n'thrals more than he hated ghouls.
         
"Yes, but the price for them has changed," the n'thral commented, his 
thick tongue snaked out wetting his lips.
        
"And what is the new price?"
        
"A good fuck, for me and my men." 
        
Krycek sensed the presence of two other n'thrals before they stepped 
out of the adjoining rooms behind him, blocking the entrance.  The 
triple agent swore to himself for allowing his primary means of 
escape to be blocked.  
         
Krycek was desperate for those documents; he hadn't been able to get 
any information on Mulder since the virus broke out.  Russia's and 
Europe's communications networks had been taken over by their 
respective governments who were desperately trying to cover up their 
countries weaknesses from the outside world.  He was lucky he'd 
gotten the one message out to Mulder before the lines had been cut, 
but that had been months ago.  Now he was desperate to find out how 
Mulder was doing, and he feared the worst.  Recently, he'd been 
having visions of Mulder being totally alone with no one to love and 
care for him -- it had been tearing at his heart.
         
The n'thral leader started to remove his clothing, exposing his 
powerfully-built body.  Krycek swallowed when he saw the man's 
eleven-inch tool jutting out from his hairy groin.  He reached for his 
gun only to have his arm grabbed by the n'thral standing behind him.  
      
"Take your fucking hand off of me, freak!"
         
"Now, now, Comrade Krycek, that's no way to talk to your future 
lover.  You do want these documents, don't you?" the leader asked, 
walking up to the restrained human, he reached inside his jacket and 
removed the gun.  "You won't be needing this, now, will you?"
          
"I want to see the documents first," Krycek demanded, looking up 
into the leader's deformed face.
        
"Okay, I'll allow you to glance through them before we fuck, but first 
remove your clothes," the leader ordered, nodding for the n'thral 
holding Krycek to release him.
         
//For Mulder.//  Krycek thought as he shrugged out of his leather 
jacket, his stomach lurched as the other two n'thrals started stripping 
excitedly.  As he bent to untie his boots, he sneaked a look at the two 
mutants wanting to find out what he was in for.  The cock on the one 
was small only about seven inches, but the other one's cock was 
larger than any Krycek had ever seen, it had to be at least sixteen 
inches.
       
Fear and desperation consumed him.  He wanted desperately to find 
out what was happening with Mulder, but he now feared for his life.  
If he died, he would never see the man he loved again.  The 
combination of such strong emotions caused the unexpected to 
happen.  Krycek felt energy flowing into his body and he looked at 
his hands, within their palms a blue light burned.  He clenched his 
hand over the light, hiding it as he stood allowing the anger and rage 
to flow through his body.  When he felt the force within him become 
impossible to control any longer, he struck out at the n'thrals.
         
They died with the look of utter surprise on their faces.  The blue fire 
eventually consumed their bodies, leaving only ashes behind.  
       
Krycek shook like a leaf -- he had an equally surprised expression on 
his handsome face.  "Damn."  He got himself back under control and 
rushed past the disintegrating bodies, retrieving the briefcase the 
leader had been carrying.  He opened it, pulling out the documents 
and surveillance photos.
       
His face fell as he studied the documents -- they were all fakes.  Even 
the few photos of Mulder weren't recent ones; they showed him with 
a cast on his hand.  Krycek knew that injury happened almost a year 
ago.  He retrieved his jacket; pulling a lighter out of the pocket, he lit 
the documents on fire dropping them on the ashes already on the 
floor.  He placed the photos into the inside pocket of his jacket; at 
least he had received something of importance out of this debacle, 
besides discovering that he was turning into a sorcerer.
         
"Mulder, when we do see each other again, I will make you love me 
and never let you go."
      
***
       
Hoover Building
Director's Conference Room
Friday, July 10
1:00 p.m.
                
Mulder watched with amusement as several of the Assistant Directors 
and SACs shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.  Walter Skinner sat 
straight and betrayed no emotions.  Mulder really had a hard time 
keeping a straight face -- he didn't know how Skinner managed it.
       
"I realize not many of you, if any, have ever had sexual relations with 
another man.  That is what these classes are for, to teach you how 
men interact on a personal and romantic level, so you'll be able to 
deal with your subordinates if they come to you for advise," the 
director stated.
         
"Sir, couldn't we just send them to see a counselor?" A.D. Murphy 
asked.
        
"Murph, these directives come directly from Congress, and apply to 
all government agencies.  Part of the logic behind it is clearly asinine, 
but underlying goal is not.  The government wants to normalize 
men's lives as quickly as possible, and to do that they realize men 
need companionship and a release for their sexual urges.  The only 
logical sexual release available, besides solo gratification, is another 
man."
        
"Sir, I still fail to see how it's our job to teach men about homosexual 
sex," Murphy replied.
        
Several men snickered.
        
"You're not teaching them anything, you're only to be supportive to 
your men if they should seek your advice.  Under no circumstances 
are you to approach them first or instigate sexual relations.  Now, the 
classes will be broken into two sessions with ten men at each session, 
you will each receive notification by email when your classes will be 
held.  Any questions?"  He looked around the conference room at the 
sullen men.  "Okay, dismissed.  SAC Mulder, I'd like a word with 
you in private," the director said, stuffing the papers back into a 
folder.
       
Mulder sifted uncomfortably as the other men gave him speculative 
looks as they walked past him on their way out.  Oh great, it was just 
his luck to be held after by the director, just after said director had a 
lengthy discussion about male relationships and homosexual love.  
Mulder's eyes met Skinner's as the larger man started to walk by him, 
Skinner paused briefly as if he wanted to say something, then seemed 
to think better of it and continued on his way.
         
After the last man left, the director walked over and leaned against 
the conference table next to Mulder.  "Fox, how have you been doing 
lately?"
       
"Fine, sir," he replied uneasily.
        
"You're looking well.  I take it the new job isn't too stressful. Are you 
getting enough sleep?  Is your apartment building secure enough?"  
The director's eyes traveled up and down his body.
        
"Job's *fine* . . . I'm sleeping *fine* . . . but there are too many 
n'thrals in my apartment building . . . other than that everything is 
*FINE*," Mulder emphasized.  "Sir, why did you want to see me?"
        
"Fox, I want to move your office out of the basement . . . I don't think 
it's safe for you to be down there by yourself.  We've been having 
problems with a few of the n'thral agents we have working for us.  
Brad from security discovered a couple of them hanging around the 
basement last week; he overheard them saying some sexually explicit 
things about you.  I'm trying to get the lot of them dismissed on the 
grounds that they are no longer fit to be FBI agents, but until I do I 
want you out of the basement."
        
"Sir, I could keep my office door locked when I'm working down 
there or how about letting me bring my dog into work.  He's very 
good against n'thrals and ghouls," Mulder pleaded.  He cherished his 
basement sanctuary and didn't want to give it up.
        
"What type of dog?"
       
"He's a German Shepherd, sir."
        
"Hmm, those are smart, protective dogs.  Okay, Fox, I'll call security 
and get you permission to bring your dog into the office.  I'm also 
going to see about getting those n'thrals moved out of your apartment 
building," the director said, standing.
        
"Thank you, sir," Mulder murmured.
        
The director smiled softly.  "Get back to work, SAC Mulder."
       
"Yes, sir."  Mulder stood, feeling relieved as he left the office.
      
Unbeknownst to Mulder, the director kept an admiring eye on his ass 
as he walked out of the office.
        
Mulder took the stairs back down to his office.  He was reaching for 
the doorknob when he heard a noise from inside his office.  Pulling 
out his gun, he slowly opened the door and peered in.  Walter 
Skinner sat behind his desk, in front of him were several pencils that 
he was launching up into the ceiling.  They joined the other pencils 
already in the ceiling that Mulder had put there over the past two 
months.
     
"Sir?" Mulder said, putting his gun back in its holster.
       
Skinner missed his next shot as Mulder's voice threw off his aim and 
the pencil skittered across the desk and onto the floor.  He glanced 
up, embarrassed.
        
"Sir, what are you doing here?" Mulder asked, coming in and closing 
the door.
       
"I wanted to see if you were okay?  The director doesn't usually ask 
anyone to stay after his meetings unless it's important," he replied.
       
"He was worried about my safety down here alone in the basement," 
Mulder replied.
      
"Why?"  Skinner had his own concerns about Mulder's safety, that 
was why he had the building's security guards making scheduled 
rounds down here, but he hadn't expected the Director to show 
concern.  He had been more worried about the Director 
propositioning Mulder.  Skinner hadn't missed the way the Director's 
eyes grazed over Mulder during the meeting.
      
"It seems a couple of the agents that have mutated into n'thrals were 
spotted down here, and the Director is concerned that they might 
attempt to attack me."
        
Skinner swallowed.  "What did the Director suggest?"
        
"He wanted to move me upstairs, but I convinced him to allow me to 
bring Rex to work instead," Mulder replied smugly.
             
"Agent Mulder, I think it would be a good idea for you to move 
upstairs.  You would be closer to your team of agents, you are their 
SAC, after all," Skinner replied.  Now, he was even more concerned 
about Mulder being down here alone.
       
"They know where to find me, besides I like managing from afar," 
Mulder smirked.  "Sir, I'm a highly trained FBI agent and with Rex at 
my side no n'thral would dare attempt anything."
       
"Mulder, those n'thrals are highly trained FBI agents, too."
        
"Yeah, but their mutation has left them a less intelligent.  I think I 
could hold my own against them."
      
Skinner glared at him.  "It's that less intelligent aspect of the mutation 
that worries me.  If they were smarter, they'd have more mental 
control over their sexual urges."
       
"Every n'thral I've run into was smart enough to stay away from Rex.  
I'll be fine, sir."  A mischievous grin crossed his face.  "So, I hear 
you have your own special relationship with a n'thral?"
      
A shadow crossed Skinner's handsome face.  "Where did you hear 
that?" he growled.
        
"Let's just say that there are some real disadvantages to living in the 
same apartment building with over one hundred and fifty highly 
trained FBI agents," Mulder chuckled, he was amused over how 
irritated Skinner had become.  He had overheard Agents Pipino and 
Underwood telling some other agents about the seven-foot tall n'thral 
that showed up at Viva Towers with a bouquet of flowers asking for 
Skinner.
         
"That's not funny, Mulder, I still haven't been able to dissuade that 
creature, and I even had to find myself a new liquor store," he 
grumbled.
        
"Sorry, sir, but it is funny.  So, these classes that the director 
outlined, is there anyway to get out of them?" Mulder asked.
       
"Unfortunately, no.  It's not that I have a problem with the concept, 
but I really don't want to sit through it with my peers."  Out of his 
pocket, Skinner pulled the pamphlet the director handed out.  "I 
especially don't see the necessity of the second session, 'A Working 
Knowledge of Male-to-Male Sex.'"  He read the details of the class to 
himself, and determined that he was already intimately familiar with 
all of it.
       
"Hey, that's the only one that sounded remotely interesting.  I wonder 
if we'd get to see a video in that session," Mulder joked.  Deep down 
he was curious.  In the past, he'd rented a few gay porn films, but 
they didn't have any technical details about having sex with another 
man.  However, he had to agree with Skinner, he did not want to sit 
through these sessions with other agents.
         
Skinner gave him a sideways look.  "Have you ever?"
       
Ever?  "No!" he squeaked, realizing what his boss was asking.  He 
blushed, not wanting Skinner to suspect that he'd had fantasies about 
him or Alex Krycek. 
        
"Sorry, Mulder, I shouldn't have asked you that, it was inappropriate.  
I'd better be heading back to my office.  Be sure to lock the door after 
me," he ordered.  Leaving the office, he closed the door behind him.  
A brilliant smile broke out on Skinner's handsome face, so Mulder 
had never had sex with another man.  He had wondered about Mulder 
and Krycek in the past.  Recently he worried about the friend that 
went over to fix Mulder lunch after that ghoul had attacked him, it 
seemed to him like something someone that was closer than just a 
friend would do.
        
Skinner waited for the elevator to arrive; he didn't notice the large 
shapes hiding around the corner.  He stepped on, pushing the button 
to his floor, fantasizing about Fox Mulder.
        
Mulder locked the door after Skinner had left.  Groaning, he was so 
pathetic, confessing that he was inexperienced sexually with men to 
his boss made him feel so foolish.  Why couldn't he have told Skinner 
it was none of his business and left him wondering?  Instead, he let 
the man know that he was a virgin.  God, he wondered if Skinner was 
experienced or if his question meant he was interested in him?  
Mulder chewed on his bottom lip as those thoughts fluttered around 
his brain; he wondered what kissing Skinner would feel like?
       
Mulder shrugged out of his suit coat and hung it on the coat tree by 
the door.  He walked back over to his desk, he flipped on his 
computer, putting his glasses on.  A sound outside his door caused 
him to glance up, he reached for his gun just as the door crashed 
open and three large n'thrals rushed in. 
        
The largest one dove across the small space, twisting the gun out of 
Mulder's hand.  "Now, Foxy, that's not a nice way to greet your 
fellow agents."  He bent down and nuzzled his nose against the side 
of Mulder's throat sniffing him.
        
"Davis, keep your fucking hands off of me, and get the hell out of my 
office!"  Mulder growled, trying to push the giant off him.
        
"Hey, Davis, we can't get the door closed," Agent Madsen 
complained as he tried to close the fractured door.  The door jam had 
been torn from the wall and the door was split in two.
        
"Forget about the fucking door!  We're taking Foxy here back to our 
place where we won't be interrupted.  Hobson, go and pull our truck 
up to the side door," Davis ordered.  Then he silenced Mulder by 
forcing his tongue into the smaller man's mouth as his hand groped 
and kneaded Mulder's buttocks.  His thick fingers delved into the 
crease of Mulder's ass trying to locate his anus through the fabric.
       
Mulder was totally helpless; the n'thral had lifted him off the floor, 
and his feet didn't touch the ground.  He was held firmly against the 
immense creature's chest by one massive arm, while it's other hand 
played with his ass.  Mulder tried to bite down on the offensive 
tongue, but the thing was like leather, and he only succeeded in 
exciting the giant more.
       
"LET HIM GO!" Skinner growled, leveling his gun at the two 
n'thrals.
          
The third n'thral was in the hallway being held at gunpoint by Agent 
Sullivan.
        
"Put your gun down, Skinner!  If you don't . . . I'll tear off one of 
Foxy's arms," Davis growled, tightening his hold on Mulder.
       
"Davis, so far you'll only be up on assault charges, don't make it 
worse," Skinner warned.
         
"Foxy is coming with me, Skinner!  Now drop the gun and get out of 
our way!" the n'thral growled.  "I'd really hate to disfigure such of 
beautiful man, but he'd still be quite fuckable.  It's your call, Skinner, 
do I start pulling off limbs or are you going to let Foxy leave here in 
one piece?"
       
Mulder saw the fear in Skinner's eyes, he knew his boss was going to 
lay down his gun, and he couldn't allow that to happen.  Mulder was 
able to free one arm and he cautiously reached for a sharpened pencil 
that had dropped on top of the filing cabinet.  The pencil had fallen 
from the ceiling when the n'thrals crashed into his office.  He 
wrapped his fingers around the pencil while the n'thral's attention was 
focused on Skinner.  Davis let out a bellow as Mulder jammed the 
pencil through his eye.  The n'thral dropped Mulder as he attempted 
to pull the pencil out and the agent rolled out of his way.
       
Several agents dashed into the room, placing the n'thrals under arrest.  
Skinner went over to Mulder's side and helped him to his feet.
       
"Agent Mulder, are you injured in any way?"  Skinner asked, picking 
up Mulder's eyeglasses that had fallen off in the scuffle.
      
"No.  I'm okay.  How did you know?"  Mulder asked, keeping away 
from Davis as he was handcuffed and escorted out of his office.
         
"Intuition, when I was about to step off the elevator I sensed that 
something was wrong.  Agents Sullivan and Boutotte were just 
getting on, so I had Sullivan accompany me back down here while 
Boutotte went for backup.  Of course, if I'd been wrong I would have 
looked like an idiot," Skinner grinned softly.
        
"Well, I'm glad you went with your intuition, sir.  If you'll excuse me, 
I'm going home . . . I really need to brush my teeth and take a 
shower," Mulder said.  A look of utter revulsion was written across 
his features.
        
"That's very understandable, Agent Mulder.  I'll drive you, I don't 
think you should be alone right now," Skinner replied, pulling out his 
keys.
        
The other agents standing in his office made it impossible for Mulder 
to protest without questioning Skinner's authority, and after his boss 
had just saved his life he didn't want to do that.  He meekly retrieved 
his suit coat from the floor and allowed Skinner to drive him home.
         
Rex greeted them at the door, he was happy to see the large bald man 
with his human.  
       
"Hey, Rex," Skinner purred.  Petting the dog, he looked up at 
Mulder.  "Mulder, do those n'thrals always hang out in front of your 
building?"
        
"Yes."  Mulder headed into his bedroom and started to undress.  
         
"Doesn't having them out there frighten you?"  Skinner asked, 
standing in the doorway watching him.
       
"Yeah," he admitted.  "Several of my neighbors have already moved 
because of them, and their apartments were taken over by more 
n'thrals.  The director said that he was going to try to do something 
about them," Mulder replied wishfully, standing only in his silk 
boxers.
        
"If the director said that, then they're as good as out of here," Skinner 
replied.
        
"Well, I hope he does it soon because I'm almost out of clean 
clothes," Mulder quipped, dropping his socks on top of the already 
overflowing laundry hamper.
       
Skinner raised an eyebrow questioningly as he studied the scars on 
Mulder's lean, runner's body.  
        
Mulder shrugged his shoulders at Skinner's unasked question.  "I 
don't go downstairs to the laundry room in the basement anymore.  
Even with my gun and Rex I'm afraid of being trapped down there by 
a group of n'thrals," he confessed, crossing his arms over his bare 
chest, suddenly aware of his boss's scrutiny.
         
"Mulder, tomorrow's Saturday.  Why don't you gather up all of your 
dirty laundry and bring it over to my place, you can use my washer 
and dryer.  I'll even fix us lunch," Skinner suggested.
         
"Okay, if you're sure I won't be intruding?"  Mulder asked, chewing 
on his bottom lip.
        
"I'm sure, I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise.  Now, go and grab 
your shower, then I'll take you to dinner and drinks at Mike's," 
Skinner replied.
        
"Sir, are you asking me on a date?"  Mulder quipped, sauntering past 
his boss on the way to the bathroom.  He carried a change of clothes 
with him.
        
Skinner resisted the urge to say yes, instead he opted for the more 
diplomatic response.  "Agent Mulder, I just don't want you to be 
alone right now.  Besides, it's been a week since I had one of Mike's 
thick, juicy burgers."
       
Mulder stopped in the bathroom doorway.  "I didn't know you went 
to Mike's.  I'd better hurry, we'll never get a table if we don't get there 
before 3:30."  
         
"Yeah, tell me about it!  I usually have to stand to eat my burger," 
Skinner shouted so Mulder could hear him behind the closed 
bathroom door.  He walked over to Mulder's shelving unit to look at 
his fish, then picked up a photo of a twelve-year old Mulder and his 
sister.  Rex followed him around the room wagging his tail.
      
Once in the shower, Mulder gave in to his emotions, bursting into 
tears and shaking with fear.  He had never felt so totally helpless as 
when Davis assaulted him today.  God, if Skinner hadn't rescued him 
when he did, he didn't want to think of what might have happened.  
He scrubbed his skin hard and washed his hair three times before 
climbing out of the shower.  After drying himself, Mulder brushed 
his teeth until his gums bled, then rinsed his mouth out with 
mouthwash.  He almost became physically ill when he noticed the 
discoloration on his throat where the bastard's mouth had sucked him.  
Mulder studied his eyes closely, making sure they weren't red from 
crying.  The last thing he wanted was for Skinner to see him as weak.  
Satisfied, he started pulling on his clothes.
         
Skinner glanced up from playing with Rex when Mulder stepped into 
the room.  "Are you ready to go?"
       
"Yeah."
          
On the walk over to the tavern, Skinner noticed how close Rex stayed 
to Mulder, and the way dog kept scanning the area for any danger.  
He wondered if Mulder was aware of how meticulous his dog was 
about his safety.
         
They entered the already crowded tavern, and Mulder steered 
Skinner over to his usual table in front of the window, which was the 
only unoccupied table in the pub.  Most of the customers preferred 
seats away from the window, but Mulder liked being able to see what 
was happening outside.
         
Mike came over immediately with their usual drink orders, Guinness 
Stout for Skinner and Bass Ale for Mulder, he was surprised to see 
the two men together.  Walter Skinner had started coming in 
regularly about two months ago.  Since most of the other restaurants 
had closed, his clientele had increased substantially.  Skinner usually 
came after work for a beer and a burger, and Mulder only came in 
after jogging on Saturdays.  "Hey, Mulder, Walter, I should have 
figured you two would know each other, considering you both work 
for the FBI."
         
"Hi, Mike.  Sk . . . Walter's my boss."
         
"Walter, you're lucky to have a man of Mulder's character and 
intelligence working for you.  I hope you realize that?" Mike replied.
         
Skinner grinned up at Mike, appreciating the man's comments.  He 
knew it did Mulder's low self-esteem a world of good to be so openly 
praised.  "Don't worry, Mike, I'm well aware of how lucky the FBI is 
to have Mulder as an agent, and just for the record, he is my *best* 
agent."
        
"Good."  Mike winked over at Mulder who was embarrassed because 
of the attention.  "Rex, I haven't forgotten you, I'll be right back with 
your bowl of water," he replied, patting the dog on the head.
        
On the other side of the bar sat a middle-aged man who was keeping 
a close eye on the two men.  Bill Zalk was one of the regular patrons 
of the pub and he had been keeping an eye on Skinner for several 
weeks now.  He was there every weeknight when Skinner stopped by 
after work.  The man was a newly mutated clairvoyant; he had used 
his new abilities to read the handsome bald man's thoughts and liked 
what he found there.  Zalk was determined to get to know Skinner on 
a romantic level.  
      
He stared hatefully at Mulder, he recognized the man as a regular 
customer of Mike's, too.  He had just finished reading Mulder's mind 
and learned that he was attracted to Walter Skinner.  Skinner's 
thoughts shocked him, the bald man was hopelessly in love with the 
younger man, Skinner actually thought he might stand a chance of 
having those feelings returned someday, but Mulder was currently 
clueless about the A.D.'s feelings for him.  So, all that Zalk had to do 
was convince Walter Skinner that he'd never stand a chance with Fox 
Mulder.
         
Bill Zalk sat back and spent the rest of the evening reading both 
men's minds, trying to find a wedge that would permanently separate 
them.  He smiled slyly as he finally hit upon his wedge.
        
The sun was still bright in the sky when Mike's closed, like all 
establishments it was required by law to close an hour before dusk.  
Mulder felt much better as they walked back to his apartment 
building; five hours in Skinner's company had brightened his spirits, 
he hadn't even thought about Davis the whole time.  He was only 
sorry that the evening had to end so soon, it was nice to have 
someone to talk to who shared many of the same experiences with 
him.
        
"Hey, Mulder, you're looking hot," Freddy greeted.  He was leaning 
up against the building smoking a cigarette. 
       
Skinner glared at the young n'thral, turning back to his agent.  
"Mulder, are you sure you're going to be okay?"
         
"Sir, I'll be fine.  Thanks for dinner, I'll see you tomorrow."  Mulder 
turned and headed up the steps into the building with Rex.
        
Skinner stood silently watching him before getting in his car and 
driving away.
        
***
       
Next day 
Skinner's apartment
          
Mulder chuckled at Skinner's extravagant show of fixing them lunch.  
He itched to take the seasonings away from the man when he realized 
his boss didn't have much experience in the kitchen.  Why did men 
always make chili?  He watched in shock as Skinner sprinkled a lot 
more cayenne pepper into the pot, then started chopping up some 
more jalapeño peppers.
        
"Ah, sir, you have made this before?"
         
"Yes, it's my specialty," he said, then wiped his hands on the striped 
apron he was wearing.
         
//If he says it will put hair on my chest, I'm going to shoot him.// 
Mulder thought, smiling. 
        
"You're going to love it.  It will put hair on your chest."  Skinner 
smiled at him; then turned back to the stove and dumped more 
peppers into the pot.
          
"What did you think of the President's speech last night?" Mulder 
asked, trying to take his mind off his boss's culinary skills. He 
watched Skinner's tight ass sway in those faded blue jeans as the 
larger man moved back and forth in front of the stove.  Skinner was 
wearing a form fitting T-shirt that showed of his muscular body 
nicely.
         
"I think this country is heading into serious trouble, there are too 
many restrictions and unnecessary laws that are being implemented.  
However, I do like the adoption policy he's implementing," Skinner 
replied.
         
"Yeah, it was a good idea to put clairvoyants in charge of screening 
men that want to adopt the boys, it will eliminate any sexual deviants 
getting their hands on them," Mulder replied, scanning through the 
sports page.
          
"Here, Mulder, taste this," Skinner said, bringing a spoonful of his 
chili over to the counter.  Rex walked over and stared up at the two 
men, wondering why the bald man was hand feeding his human.
           
Mulder looked at the contents on the spoon, giving Skinner a weak 
smile.  //He's letting you use his washer and dryer, it's the least you 
can do.//  He made sure his bottle of beer was close by before 
opening his mouth and allowing Skinner to feed him.  "Hothothot," 
Mulder muttered, grabbing his beer he washed down the chili.
         
"Good isn't it?" Skinner asked, sincerely pleased with Mulder's 
reaction because chili wasn't good unless it's hot.
           
"Yeah, great," Mulder gasped, his eyes tearing.
        
"Fine, I'll scoop us up a couple of large bowls full."
         
Mulder forced himself to finish the whole bowl, not wanting to hurt 
Skinner's feelings; the man did seem pleased with himself.  He 
helped his boss with the dishes then they wandered in to the living 
room to watch a couple movies Skinner had rented.  
          
"I still think the first Lethal Weapon movie was the best," Mulder 
said as the last movie ended.
         
"I thought the second movie was better.  That bathroom scene was a 
riot," Skinner chuckled.
         
"Yeah, there is that.  Well, Rex and I better be leaving.  Walter, 
thanks for having us over and letting me use your was washer and 
dryer," Mulder murmured.
        
"Anytime, Mulder," Skinner replied, smiling, he couldn't remember 
the last time he had enjoyed anyone's company as much as Mulder's.  
He hated to see him leave, maybe he should tell Mulder how he felt 
about him.  The thought of waking up next to Mulder every morning 
was something he desired deeply, sharing their lives together, being 
there for each other.  Skinner wondered if Mulder would be able to 
handle such a commitment, he would have to feel him out over time 
because once he had Mulder in his bed he had no intention of ever 
letting him go.
        
***
       
Three Weeks later
Mike's Tavern
Friday, July 31
6:00 p.m.
                
"Hi, Walter, I saved you a seat," Bill Zalk greeted.  
        
"Thanks, Bill," Skinner replied, taking a seat across from the man in 
the crowded pub.  He had met Zalk here two weeks ago and to his 
amazement, they had a lot in common.  Skinner noticed the frown on 
his new friend's face.
         
"Is there something wrong, Bill?"
         
"Yeah, the last three days I've been getting these weird images in my 
head.  Then I started to pick up other people's thoughts 
telepathically," he said with false sadness, then showed Skinner his 
hand -- there was a new tattoo on it.  The tattoo was the one that the 
government started using two weeks ago to brand all clairvoyants.  
       
Because businesses feared that their companies' secrets might be 
stolen, they had gone to the government and demanded that some 
action be taken to identify the growing number of clairvoyants.  The 
government, who had a similar fear involving national defense 
secrets, responded immediately.  DNA testing of all private and 
public sector employees to identify the men with the clairvoyant 
strain of the virus was mandated because of the lack of physical 
symptoms.
       
"You're a clairvoyant," Skinner gasped.
       
"Yeah, pretty weird.  I'm having a hard time keeping other people's 
thoughts out of my head," Zalk replied.  Just as he planned, at that 
precise moment, Mulder strolled into the tavern with Rex.  
      
Mulder had received a call that Mike needed to see him, he frowned 
at the stranger behind the bar.  "Hi, is Mike around?"
        
"No, Mike went to Boston to visit his father," the man replied.
          
Mulder glanced nervously around the crowded bar, his eyes finally 
rested on the back of Skinner's familiar bald head.  Relieved, Mulder 
made his way over to his boss's table.  "Sir, mind if we join you?"
         
"Agent Mulder, no, please, have a seat," Skinner replied, pleasantly 
surprised.  "Hey, Rex, how are you boy?" he said, patting the dog's 
head.
         
Mulder stared over at Bill Zalk, he recognized the man as a regular 
here.  "Fox Mulder," he said, introducing himself to the man next to 
him.
         
"Bill Zalk," the man replied, shaking his hand.  Zalk quickly pulled 
his hand away when Rex started growling at him.
         
"Rex, what's wrong?"  Mulder asked, grabbing the dog by the collar 
to prevent him from attacking Zalk.  "Sorry, I don't know what's 
gotten into him."  When Mulder couldn't get Rex to calm down, he 
sighed, "We'd better leave."
        
"Mulder, it's probably just the crowd and the noise, there seems to be 
almost twice as many people crammed in here tonight," Skinner 
reasoned.
        
"Yeah, that must be it.  Still, I'd better get him out of here before he 
bites someone.  See you at work on Monday," Mulder said, standing 
to leave.
        
"Mulder, how's your laundry problem?" Skinner asked quickly, 
hoping for an excuse to invite Mulder over to his apartment again.
         
"Fixed.  The director was good at his word.  All of the n'thrals have 
been moved out of my building, and he even had them moved out of 
neighborhood.  Didn't you notice the total lack of them hanging out 
in the neighborhood when you drove down here?"  Mulder asked.
        
"Yeah, now that you mentioned it, I did notice," Skinner replied with 
just a hint of sadness, now there was no excuse for him to invite 
Mulder over tomorrow.
        
"Bye," Mulder said, leading Rex out of the tavern.
         
"Walter, it wouldn't have worked anyway," Zalk said, taking a sip of 
beer.
        
"What wouldn't have worked?"  Skinner asked, watching as Mulder 
passed by the outside window on his way home.
        
"You and Mulder.  He happens to be involved sexually with another 
man," Zalk informed him.
         
Skinner eyebrows shot up.  "How do you . . .?"
        
Zalk held up his hand showing Skinner his tattoo, reminding him that 
if anyone would know, he would.  
          
Skinner looked him squarely in the face, he was angry that the man 
had read his thoughts about Mulder, but he needed to know.  "Who?"
         
"Joshua Campbell . . ." Zalk hid his grin at the sheer look of outrage 
on Skinner's handsome face.
         
The name wasn't familiar, but all the same, Skinner was shocked that 
Mulder had lied to him.  He told Skinner that he had never had sex 
with another man when he was currently involved in a sexual 
relationship with one.  Mulder had totally betrayed the trust they had 
built between them.
        
Skinner stood to leave; he needed to be alone.  The knowledge that 
the man he loved was sharing his bed with another man broke his 
heart.  How could Mulder have done this to him?
        
"Walter, where are you going?"  Zalk asked, he hadn't predicted the 
total devastation that his little lie would cause.
        
"Home.  I'm not hungry any longer," Skinner replied sadly.  He was 
determined never to set foot inside this tavern again or to come close 
to Mulder on a personal level again -- he didn't want to chance ever 
seeing Mulder with this Joshua Campbell.
       
Zalk sadly watched Skinner leave, realizing that his gambit for a 
romantic relationship with the man had failed and he had lost him for 
good.  "Shit, Bill you're an idiot," he muttered.
         
***
       
Mulder's apartment
Thursday, August 20
6:00 p.m.
                
"C'mon, Rex," Mulder grumbled, opening the door to his apartment.  
He had just picked up his dog from Skinner's apartment after being 
out of town for three days on assignment.  Skinner had treated him 
coldly, not even inviting him up to his place to get Rex.  Instead, his 
boss just brought Rex down to the lobby, handing him the leash 
without saying a word to him.
       
It had been the same for the past three weeks with Skinner keeping 
him at arms length.  Mulder had thought their relationship had moved 
to a close friendship.  He felt betrayed that another person he had 
grown to like, admire, and depend on, wanted nothing to do with 
him.  When would he ever learn not to allow himself to get too close 
to anyone, everyone deserted him in the end.  Well, he had learned 
his lesson with Skinner, he realized now that his boss had only 
befriended him out of pity, and when Skinner saw that he was 
becoming too needy, he put an end to it.  God, he had definitely 
learned!  He would never allow anyone that close to him again, the 
pain was too great when they left, and they always left.  To make 
matters worse, he had started to feel strange yesterday.  Today he 
could barely stay awake and he thought he might be running a fever.
        
Mulder dropped his suitcase next to the door, closing, and locking it.  
He staggered exhaustedly over to the sofa and sank down.  Rex 
rested his head on Mulder's lap, staring up at his human with 
concerned brown eyes.  "At least you still like me," Mulder 
mumbled, scratching Rex behind his ears, his hand dropped as he fell 
asleep still dressed.  
       
Rex knew something was wrong, but was unable to do anything to 
help Mulder.  He jumped up on the sofa and lay down next to him, 
watching over him as he slept.
        
The light pouring in through the window was what eventually woke 
Mulder.  He opened his eyes and peered down at Rex who was still 
up watching him.  "Morning, boy," Mulder muttered.  Rex barked in 
greeting, and licked his human's face.
       
"What time is it?" he asked, looking toward the desk clock.  "Shit, 
I'm late!  Skinner is just looking for a reason to ream me."  Mulder 
stood too quickly and a wave of dizziness made him sit back down.  
He put his head between his legs, groaning until the room stopped 
spinning.
        
Once the room stopped moving, he cautiously rose from the sofa and 
walked into the bathroom.  He stripped out of his wrinkled clothes 
from last night, leaving them where they dropped on the bathroom 
floor.  Mulder took a quick shower, hoping that the cold water would 
help him wake up.  As he shaved, he distantly thought that there was 
something different with his face, but he couldn't pinpoint it.
        
Rex followed him around, watching anxiously as his human dressed.  
He sensed that the man he loved needed his protection now more 
than ever before.  He tentatively ate the food Mulder poured into his 
bowl, keeping one eye on his human at all times.
       
The dog's nose nudging his hand finally got his attention, he had been 
staring blindly off into space.  "Oh, c'mon, Rex, let's get to work," 
Mulder mumbled.
        
The car horn honking behind him woke Mulder from his slumber, 
and he quickly drove through the green light, embarrassed that he 
had fallen to asleep behind the wheel.  "God, what is wrong with 
me?"
         
Once in the J. Edgar Hoover Building, Mulder and Rex headed right 
down to his basement office.  The agent inserted his key into the lock 
on the new steel door, pushing it open.  He made it almost to his 
desk, when the room started spinning violently and his eyes rolled 
back in his head as he passed out, crashing to the floor.  He cut his 
head open on the edge of the desk and the wound started bleeding.
        
Rex came over to Mulder's body whimpering and licking his sweaty 
face.  After twenty minutes and his human still wouldn't wakeup, Rex 
took off to find the bald man to help him.  The dog used his mouth to 
open the door to the stairwell, he dashed up the steps and stopped on 
the floor his human would go to when visiting the bald man's office.
        
The dog raced through the bullpen on his way to Skinner's office.  
The other agents recognized Mulder's dog and started to follow him.  
Rex barked loudly to get the bald man's attention, and an annoyed 
Skinner opened his office door and peered out angrily at Rex, then 
looked around for Mulder to tell him to keep his dog quiet.
        
Rex ran over to him, grabbed Skinner's sleeve with his mouth, and 
started pulling the large human toward the stairs.  
       
"Rex, what's wrong?  Is it Mulder?"  A look of concern flashed 
across Skinner's face.  The other agents exchanged looks and they all 
raced for the stairs leading down to Mulder's office.
        
Walter Skinner beat them to the basement office; his heart was racing 
a mile a minute out of fear, when he saw Mulder lying motionless on 
the floor, it stopped and leapt into his throat.  He quickly pulled 
himself together and knelt beside Mulder's body.  "Someone call an 
ambulance, he's burning up!"  Skinner brushed the bangs out of 
Mulder's eyes, noting the dried blood on his forehead, but he couldn't 
find where the blood had come from, he thought Mulder appeared 
different, younger.
         
After doing a quick check of Mulder's vitals, Skinner removed his 
suit coat and placed it under the agent's head.  He looked up at the 
men milling around in the doorway.  "Where's that fucking 
ambulance?" he growled anxiously.
        
"Sir, it's on its way," Sullivan replied.  "Agent Boutotte is upstairs 
waiting for it, he'll show the paramedics down here as soon as they 
arrive."
        
Rex lay down, resting his head on Mulder's stomach, he whimpered 
sadly.  His human's scent was changing and that was making him sad, 
he no longer smelled like a human being.  The dog sniffed his 
human's new scent, memorizing it.
        
***
       
D.C. General Hospital
Friday, August 21
11:00 a.m.
                
Skinner had accompanied Mulder to the hospital, he now sat outside 
the examination room, waiting for Doctor Harris to come out and tell 
him what was wrong.  He felt guilty, if he hadn't been keeping his 
distance, he might have noticed that there was a problem, then the 
young man might not be lying unconscious in the next room.  An 
intern came rushing out of the room carrying a tray; he rushed pass 
Skinner on his way to the lab.
        
As Skinner continued to wait, he wondered whether he should make 
the effort to find Mulder's lover.  He knew it was selfish, but it hurt 
too much to think about looking for him.  He knew that by locating 
him, he would be admitting to Mulder that he not only knew about 
the relationship, but also knew about Mulder's lies.  No . . . if Mulder 
wanted to call him when he regained consciousness he could, but 
Skinner did not intend to inflict that type of pain on himself.
         
An hour later Doctor Harris stepped into the hallway, closing the 
door behind him.  Skinner stood immediately and walked over to 
him.  "Sam, what's wrong with him?"
        
"Walter, please sit down," Harris said, leading the distraught man 
back over to the row of chairs.  He sat in one and waited until 
Skinner sat beside him before trying to explain the unexplainable.
       
"Fox Mulder is mutating.  It doesn't fit the symptoms of the other 
four known mutations that we've seen over the last five months.  I'm 
not sure what to make of it, I sent some blood and tissue samples 
down to the lab for analysis.  I'm sorry, Walter, I know you care 
about the young man . . . I wish there was more that I could tell you," 
Harris patted Skinner's thigh as the larger man leaned back in shock.
       
"Sam, what is he mutating into?  Do you know?" Skinner's voice was 
thick with pain and sorrow.  Could Mulder be turning into something 
more gruesome than a ghoul or n'thral?  He just couldn't bear the 
thought that the beautiful man he was in love with might be turning 
into some vile monster.
       
"Walter, it's too early to say for sure.  I don't even know how long it 
will take him to mutate.  It took the men with the Neanderthal 
mutation three weeks for the initial part of their mutation, and they're 
still changing, evolving.  Clairvoyants and sorcerers took between ten 
and twelve weeks and new ones are still showing up.  I think it may 
depend on each individual as to how long and when their bodies start 
mutating."
         
"Sam, can I see him?"
         
"Sure, but he's unconscious, which is another strange thing about his 
mutation.  All of the other men were awake throughout their 
mutation, no matter how painful the change was for them.  Mulder's 
body seems to be protecting him from any pain or discomfort."
         
"Well, at least that's one good thing," Skinner sighed.  He was glad 
that Mulder wasn't mentally aware of what was happening to him.  
He prepared himself for the worst as he followed Harris toward the 
room.
        
"I'm going to have him placed into a private room as soon as an 
orderly is available to move him," Doctor Harris informed him as 
they walked into the examination room. 
        
Mulder lay on his back on the small examination table, his clothes 
had been removed, and the only thing covering his nakedness was a 
thin paper sheet.  Skinner walked up to the side of the table looking 
down at the man who had his heart.  He breathed a sigh of relief; 
Mulder was still as beautiful as ever, looking closer, Skinner had to 
admit that he was even more beautiful.  A puzzled look crossed his 
face.  "Sam, the scars on his chest are gone."  Under the bright light 
of the examination room, Skinner also noticed that the faint lines of 
age that had started to show on Mulder's face in the last few years 
had vanished.  His skin was left smooth and blemish free -- he looked 
over ten years younger.
         
"I noticed that and the one on his thigh has almost vanished, too," 
Harris said, lifting up the sheet to show Skinner his agent's thigh.
         
Skinner caught his breath, staring at Mulder's perfectly shaped penis 
lying against his thigh, he forced his eyes away and stared at Mulder's 
thigh where the gunshot scar had been.  "It's gone.  Sam, do you think 
it's possible that his mutation is healing his body and making him 
younger?"
          
"I think it's more than possible."
           
"Sam, instead of waiting for an orderly to arrive, I'll move him into a 
private room myself, I don't like him lying here exposed.  Just show 
me where to take him," Skinner said earnestly. 
         
"Walter, there's a gurney outside the door, wheel it in and I'll help 
you move him."
        
After Doctor Harris helped Skinner move Mulder into a private 
hospital room, the doctor left to call the CDC and report the new 
form of mutation.
        
***
       
D.C. General Hospital
Monday, August 24
4:00 p.m.
                
Mulder awoke three days later to the sound of people arguing nearby.  
He recognized Skinner's growl, and vaguely recognized the second 
voice.  He opened his eyes to a room full of warm light and dazzling 
colors; the fragrance of flowers filled his senses.  The clarity and 
vividness of the objects around him took his breath away; he had 
never seen anything so well in his life.  There was a large vase of 
flowers sitting on a table by the window and he lay enraptured by 
their sheer beauty.  It suddenly occurred to him that he could see the 
colors green and red, they were no longer shades of gray.  He pulled 
his eyes away from the colorful bouquet, looking over to the doorway 
where his boss stood arguing with Doctor Emmett Wells from the 
CDC. 
        
"He's staying here!"  Skinner growled, getting into the face of the 
CDC doctor.
          
"A.D. Skinner, we need him at our facility so we can study him," the 
doctor growled back, he was equally as menacing.  "Damnit, we've 
never seen this type of mutation before!  Close to half of the world's 
population has mutated and Agent Mulder's mutation is the first of its 
kind!" he stressed, annoyed.
         
"You don't know that, Doctor.  Communications have been cut to 
nearly half the countries on the globe, Mulder may not be the only 
man with this type of mutation," Skinner replied hotly.
         
"Well, he's the only fucking one on this continent so far!" Doctor 
Wells snarled.
          
Mulder had been so fascinated by the tone and pitch of the men's 
voices that he hadn't been focusing on what they were saying.  It 
finally sunk in that they were arguing about him.  What did Doctor 
Wells mean by the only one?  What had happened to him?  Why was 
he in the hospital?  Those questions all flashed simultaneously 
through Mulder's mind.
        
Skinner glanced into the room toward the bed like he had done for 
the last three days.  Each time he looked it seemed that Mulder had 
become even more surreally beautiful, until there was only the vision 
that was staring back at him now.  His breath caught in his throat, 
Mulder's eyes went from brilliant golden brown to a sparkling 
emerald green when he met Skinner's eyes.  The frightened look on 
Mulder's face tore at the older man's heart.
         
"Agent Mulder, how are you feeling?" Skinner asked softly, going 
quickly to his side.
         
"Why am I here?  What's going on?  Where the hell is my dog?" he 
rambled off anxiously.
         
"Rex is in good hands.  Agent Sullivan is looking after him, and so 
are all the young boys at Viva Tower.  Mulder, you lost 
consciousness at the office on Friday.  I hate to be the one to tell you 
this, but you have spent the last three days mutating," Skinner said 
gently.
        
"Damn."  Mulder raised his hands and studied them.  They weren't 
any larger or sickly white, but they were smoother and a scar he had 
received almost thirty years ago was gone.  "What mutation do I 
have?" he asked, puzzled.
        
Doctor Wells stepped quietly up to the bed, looking down at the 
beautiful young man.  His cock hardened in an uncontrollable surge 
of lust, and he quickly buttoned his lab coat over his swelling 
erection.  "Agent Mulder, we don't know . . . it's a totally new 
mutation.  None of the documents you provided me with had 
anything remotely similar to it listed.  I want you  . . . I . . . you . .. . 
come CDC . . . " The doctor lost himself in Mulder's eyes, not 
remembering or caring where he was, he leaned down and attempted 
to ravage Mulder's lush mouth.
        
Skinner grabbed Wells pulling him away from a very stunned 
Mulder; he strong-armed the doctor out of the room.  Mulder heard 
Skinner yelling at Wells in the hallway.
        
"That is *why* he is not going to the CDC!  Your people don't have 
the willpower to keep their hands off him!  I have to stand guard 
every time one of *your* people comes to take a blood sample from 
him.  Thank god, Harris doesn't have the same problem as *your* 
people do!  Otherwise, I would never have gotten any sleep!"  
Skinner bellowed.
         
Doctor Wells' whispered question piqued Mulder's curiosity even 
more.
         
"How do you resist him?"
         
"Willpower, Doctor, *sheer* willpower." Skinner left out that he 
loved Mulder too much to touch him against his will.  If the doctor's 
response to Mulder was indicative of others then Skinner was going 
to have to assign a security team to Mulder for his own safety.  The 
question was how would he choose a team that would be able to 
resist Mulder.
        
Something was seriously up, and Mulder couldn't take it any longer.  
So he threw off the covers and climbed out of bed, walking toward 
the small bathroom.  He froze in front of the mirror; the man staring 
back at him was perfect, flawless, and ageless.  He touched his 
chestnut brown hair marveling at the thickness, silky texture, and rich 
color.  His hospital gown had slipped; revealing his shoulder, the 
shoulder Scully had shot him in many years ago, and the scar was 
gone.
         
Mulder pulled the gown away from his chest and peered down at his 
body -- no scars anywhere.  He turned at the sound behind him, his 
eyes wide with bewilderment.  Walter Skinner stood poised in the 
doorway, watching him.
         
"Where are my clothes?  I want to leave," Mulder said, his voice 
trembled.
         
"You can't leave, Agent Mulder.  Doctor Harris thinks that you're still 
changing, and it's no longer safe for you to be by yourself," Skinner 
informed him, blocking the bathroom doorway.
        
"I'm not by myself . . . I have Rex." Mulder stared defiantly at his 
boss, the man he had thought was his friend.  Then angrily turned his 
back on him.
      
Skinner shifted uncomfortably on his feet, it was hard to look at or be 
near Mulder without becoming aroused, and the view of Mulder's 
perfectly shaped buttocks from the opened back of the hospital gown 
was his undoing.  He quickly turned and fled the room, stopping in 
the hallway to try to get his libido back under control.  Doctor Harris 
came down the hallway and stopped in front of Skinner, studying the 
man's arousal with concern.
        
"Pheromones," Harris said.
       
"Pheromones?  What do you mean, Sam?"  Skinner breathed heavily, 
leaning against the wall.
         
"Its what is making men uncontrollably horny around him.  Mulder's 
body is producing a special type of pheromone.  I'm not affected 
because I loss the ability to smell years ago.  I'd like to try an 
experiment with you and a few other men to see what happens if we 
subdue your sense of smell.  I'd like to see if you'll be able to be 
around Mulder without becoming instantly aroused," Harris said, 
nodding at the bulge in Skinner's pants.
       
"Sam, please, I'd try anything if it meant that I could be near him 
without the fear that I might lose control and attack him.  I also want 
to assign a team of agents to protect him, can we use them in this 
experiment?"  Skinner asked.
       
"Sure, I think that's a good idea because looking like he does now, 
Mulder will never be safe in this society.  He's going to need constant 
protection."  Harris headed toward the door to Mulder's hospital 
room.
        
Mulder was standing in front of the window staring out.  He had been 
listening in on their conversation, besides his more than perfect 
eyesight, his hearing had improved, too.
        
"Mulder, it's nice to see that you're finally awake," Harris said, 
coming into the room.
       
"Doctor Harris, I want to leave, where are my clothes?" Mulder 
asked sadly.  Knowing that Skinner's concern for him was out of pity.  
He did not want his boss's pity again.  He'd gotten along for years 
with no one in his life until Dana Scully, and he could do it again.  
He did not need people; it was better to be alone.
        
"Mulder, you can't leave yet, if you went out by yourself now you'd 
be attacked.  I want to try some experiments to prevent that from 
happening." 
         
The agent knew that the doctor was right.  No way did he want 
another n'thral to attack him.  "Okay, Doctor, on one condition," 
Mulder sighed.
        
"What's that, Mulder?"
        
"I don't want Skinner here," he said.
         
"Agent Mulder, you can forget about it," Skinner growled from the 
doorway.  "Even if I weren't your direct supervisor, I'd still have 
authority over your case as the FBI's liaison with the other agencies 
handling mutants."  
     
Angered by his total lack of options, Mulder snapped at the larger 
man.  "Okay!  Fine!  Whatever!  Can I at least have something to 
wear?" His bottom lip quivered and tears threatened to spill, he spun 
around so his back was to them then quickly reached back and held 
the gown closed.
        
Skinner realized that part of Mulder's hostility came from how he'd 
been treating him for the past month.  God, he'd been an idiot to go 
from being Mulder's friend to holding him at arms length.  A man 
with Mulder's low self-worth was bound to see that as some sort of 
betrayal. 
          
"Agent Mulder, I'll send Agent Sullivan to your apartment tomorrow 
to pick up some clothes for you to wear.  For tonight, I'll try to 
scrounge you up some hospital scrubs.  Sam, when will you be ready 
to begin those tests?"  Skinner asked.
         
"Immediately, I've developed a nasal spray that should impede your 
sense of smell.  In addition, I'd like you to rub Vicks Vapor Rub 
under your nose.  I'm positive that the combination of the two 
substances should work."  Harris pulled out both items from his 
smock pocket and passed them to Skinner.
         
Mulder watched as Skinner used the two items then walked directly 
over to him.  Skinner put his nose to the side of his throat and sniffed 
him with his eyes closed.  
       
"Sam, it's working.  I think once I get used to the way he looks it 
shouldn't be a problem maintaining my control."  Skinner pulled 
away and made the mistake of opening his eyes.  He gazed into two 
liquid pools of golden-green eyes; he could not pull his eyes away 
from Mulder's beautiful face.
        
Mulder was the one who finally stepped away.  "Sir, I fail to see how 
this will help, we can't force men to use it," he replied.
        
"No.  However, the agents assigned to your security detail will use it, 
and they'll make sure that you are not threatened by any n'thrals or 
humans."  Skinner looked over at him, then quickly averted his eyes, 
that hospital gown was too sheer against the light coming in through 
the window.
         
"Am I to assume that this security detail will be only for when I'm 
working?"  Mulder asked annoyed.
       
"No, they'll be with you anytime you leave your apartment.  That's 
another thing, Mulder, I really think you should move into Viva 
Tower."
       
"No, I'm not moving . . . I happen to like where I live and my 
privacy," he huffed.  "So what am I suppose to do?  Beep them 
anytime I want to go out?"
        
"For now that seems like a good idea.  Mulder, I don't want you to 
think that this as some sort of punishment, it's necessary for your 
safety.  You remember how Davis and the other n'thrals attacked you 
in your office, you're a thousand times more desirable now," Skinner 
warned.
        
"Sir, I'm going along with this because I really don't have any choice.  
Now, if you don't mind, I really would like to be left alone."
       
Skinner wanted to take Mulder into his arms and comfort him, but 
after his recent behavior, he had lost all hope of ever being allowed 
to do that.  It tore at his guts to see the total hopelessness and 
desolation in Mulder's changeable hazel eyes.  "Okay, I'll be right 
down the hall if you need anything," Skinner said, allowing Doctor 
Harris to precede him out of the room.
        
***
       
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Monday, September 21
11:30 a.m.
                
Mulder opened the door to his new office which used to belong to 
A.D. Jana Cassidy; the office was located on the top floor next to the 
executive suite where the director's office was.  This time he couldn't 
even reason with the director to allow him to stay in the basement.  
The man took one look at him and was on the telephone immediately.  
The building's moving crew was ordered to move him up here that 
same day. 
       
His X-Files agents had been moved to the new bullpen area set up 
outside his office.  The bullpen smelled like Vicks Vapor Rub.  
Mulder grimaced every time he had to walk through it.  He hoped 
that Doctor Harris would quickly develop a drug that would stop the 
sexual pheromones his body was producing so his men weren't forced 
to continue to suppress their sense of smell.
        
He sat behind his desk going over his agent's reports, making notes in 
the columns.  He then placed one report inside a plastic tube.  "Rex, 
take this to Agent Sullivan," Mulder said, holding out the tube for his 
dog to take.  
       
Rex loped happily out of the office and into the maze of cubicles, 
stopping at Agent Sullivan's desk.  He stood on his hind legs and 
dropped the tube into Sullivan's inbox.
        
"Hey, Rex, are you running Mulder's errands again?"  Sullivan 
chuckled with amusement.  The German Shepherd had surprised 
everyone with how intelligent he was at performing tasks around the 
office.
         
Rex barked, allowing Sullivan to scratch him behind his ears.
        
"Good boy," the agent praised.  "Why don't we go see if Mulder 
wants us to get him lunch?"
         
Sullivan knocked on Mulder's door.  "Hey, Mulder, Rex and I are 
heading down to the cafeteria do you want us to bring you back 
anything?"
        
"Sure, Jack, if you don't mind, can you get me a ham sandwich on 
rye," Mulder replied, pulling a five dollar bill from his wallet, he 
handed it Sullivan.
         
"We'll be right back.  Come along, Rex."
        
Mulder was grateful for Sullivan's tact.  The other agent knew how 
uncomfortable he was about going to the cafeteria.  He had tried to 
get lunch there on his first day back to work three weeks ago.  
However, he couldn't handle the lewd stares and the wolf whistles 
that followed him through the line; he ended up fleeing back to his 
office without eating.
        
Other agents had even started hanging around the parking garage at 
quitting time to see him as he left with his security detail.  Mulder 
started varying the times that he left for the day, but that didn't help, 
the men were still there when he left.  Agent Pipino finally 
discovered what was happening.  The men were paying another agent 
who had the clairvoyant mutation to find out when Mulder was 
leaving for the day.  A.D. Skinner quickly put an end to that 
behavior, but the whole incident highlighted how different Mulder 
was now from the other men in the bureau.  He was feeling 
increasingly isolated and alone every passing day.
       
Mulder refused to see the lone gunmen when they called and wanted 
to come over.  He didn't want them to see him like this . . . he was 
ashamed at how beautiful he was.  He even went as far as to slash his 
face trying to mar his looks, but the wounds healed perfectly in 
hours.
        
Mulder looked up from his computer screen as Skinner entered his 
office.  "Agent Mulder, you know that in your present condition I'd 
never approved your request for an out of state case.  Why did you 
even bother to submit this to me?"
       
"Sir, I'm still a FBI agent, you have no right to coddle me.  Let me do 
my job!" Mulder snapped.
       
"When Doctor Harris finds a way to control your pheromones then 
I'll sign this, but I'm not sending you out on cases before then.  Do 
you have a death wish, Mulder?  Do you want to be raped and 
sexually assaulted?"  Skinner asked angrily.
       
"No, sir," he sighed.
        
"Good," Skinner growled, dropping the request in the wastebasket by 
Mulder's desk.  He turned and stormed out of the office.
        
"So, what's wrong with Skinner?"  Sullivan asked, entering the office 
a couple seconds later.  He placed a sandwich on the desk in front of 
Mulder.
        
"He doesn't like my attitude, and he's beginning to resent my 
presence here.  Let's face it, Jack, I'm no longer qualified to be a FBI 
agent, and he knows it.  I should just give him a break and resign," he 
grumbled.
       
"Mulder, stop feeling sorry for yourself . . . you know that's not true.  
A.D. Skinner respects and admires you.  Okay, you can't go out in the 
field any longer, but that doesn't make you any less of an agent.  
Look at Skinner, he hardly ever goes into the field or what about 
Gabriel Hunter?  He didn't give up even after he was blinded in that 
explosion."  Sullivan argued.
       
"It's not the same thing.  Not only can I not go out on cases, I can't do 
anything alone anymore.  Both Skinner and Hunter can come and go 
as they please.  They're not 'protected' twenty-four hours a day . . . 
they haven't lost their freedom."
        
"Look, Mulder, I know it's hard right now for you.  Give it a little 
time and you'll get used to the changes in your life.  Everyone has 
had to make changes and adjust to some horrible things lately.  You'll 
adjust, too."
        
Mulder sighed, picking at the sandwich, he didn't want to continue 
this discussion.  Sullivan just didn't understand.  "Yeah, I'm sure 
you're right, I'll adjust."
         
"Good.  What time do you want to leave tonight?" Sullivan asked.
         
"I should be done with these reports by 5:00 p.m., so let's leave at 
4:00 p.m.," Mulder smirked.  
         
"Okay, I'll swing back then." Sullivan turned and left the office 
heading back to his cubicle.
           
***
       
Three weeks later
Mulder's apartment
Friday, October 9
6:30 p.m.
                
His drapes were tightly drawn against the outside world.  The life he 
knew now existed primarily within these walls and his small office at 
the FBI.  The FBI for his two-man security detail rented the 
apartment next door; they were assigned to him twenty-four hours a 
day.  The men alternated weekly from a pool of eight other agents.  
This week it was Agents Pipino and Boutotte, next week, Agents 
Jameson and Jackson were scheduled.  At least they all left him 
alone, when he was home.
        
There was a knock on his door and a couple of short barks.  Mulder 
opened it to let Rex back into the apartment.  "Thanks, Vinny," he 
murmured sadly.  He hated that he could no longer take his own dog 
out for a walk without being accosted by reporters and male 
admirers.
      
"No problem, Mulder.  Is there anything else you need?"
      
//My life back.//  He thought sadly, frowning. "No.  Thanks."
           
"Just call us if you need anything," Vinny Pipino said, waiting for 
Mulder to close his door and lock it before going back next door.
        
"Hey, Phil, throw me a beer," Pipino shouted as he entered the 
apartment.
         
Boutotte came out of the kitchen handing Pipino a beer.  "How's 
Mulder doing?"
         
"Sulking.  He should be happy he didn't mutate into a n'thral or a 
ghoul."
         
"We should be grateful that he didn't turn into a n'thral," Boutotte 
chuckled.  "What do you want for dinner, we have several packages 
of Stouffers in the freezer or a Tombstone pizza."
       
"Phil, you've known me for how long?  Never ask me to eat one of 
those cardboard pizzas," he huffed.  "I'll make you a real pizza on 
Sunday when we're off *babysitting* duty," Pipino replied, heading 
into the kitchen.
        
"Excuse me, Vinny, I sometimes forget what a connoisseur you are," 
Boutotte snickered.
         
Next door, Mulder sat on his kitchen floor with his back against the 
cabinet petting Rex as he ate.  "Babysitting duty!  Rex, I wonder if 
they realize how thin these walls are?  Or how good my hearing is?"
          
Rex looked up from his meal then licked Mulder's face.  He wanted 
his human not to be sad, and he wanted to go out running with him 
again.  Rex didn't like going walking with the strange men that 
watched Mulder -- he didn't like to leave his human alone.
         
Mulder stood and walked into his bedroom, he'd been sleeping on the 
waterbed since Rex had moved in with him.  The dog took great 
pleasure in beating him to the sofa every evening.  Mulder sighed 
when he saw the overflowing laundry hamper.  "Well, it should at 
least be safe enough for me to go down to the laundry room in the 
basement.  After all, I'm an armed FBI agent with a overly protective 
guard dog," he muttered, filling the laundry basket with his dirty 
clothes.  Placing the bottle of detergent on top, he then grabbed the 
book he was reading.
         
"C'mon, Rex," he said, unlocking his apartment door.
         
Two hours later Mulder was folding his clothes, he had divided his 
laundry between two washers and dryers.  "That wasn't too bad," he 
murmured with relief, none of his neighbors had come downstairs the 
whole time.
        
Rex followed him back upstairs to their floor.  As they approached 
Mulder's apartment, the dog's ears bent back, and a low growl 
sounded deep in its throat.  Mulder already had his hand on the 
doorknob and was opening it when he heard Rex's warning, but it 
was too late as a large hand snaked out and pulled him violently into 
the apartment.  The laundry basket he had balanced on his hip as he 
was unlocking the door spilled over the entryway, preventing the 
large creature that grabbed him from closing the door.
           
A large hand closed over his mouth.  "Ssh, Beautiful, wouldn't want 
to wake your neighbors," the large n'thral growled, his large erection 
pressed into the middle of Mulder's back.
           
Rex growled loudly then attacked the giant's leg.  The n'thral snarled 
at the dog while scooping Mulder's struggling body into his arms.  He 
carried the smaller man effortlessly into the bedroom as he kicked the 
dog off his leg.  Rex hit the far wall with a pain filled whimper.  The 
n'thral ducked his head under the low mirrored canopy, dropping 
Mulder on the waterbed.  The bed made a swishing sound as he 
landed, and Mulder reached behind him for his gun finding his 
holster empty.
         
"Looking for this, gorgeous?" the n'thral purred, showing him the 
gun.
        
Rex regained his feet, snarling angrily at the creature that was 
threatening his human; he launched himself at the giant's throat.  His 
teeth tearing through the skin, he heard the satisfying howl of pain 
from his prey.
           
The n'thral used his considerable strength to force the dog's mouth 
away from his throat.  Blood was pouring from the injury as he 
angrily crushed the dog's body in his massive arms, listening to the 
satisfying sound of bones snapping as he squeezed his arms together.  
After the dog stopped moving, he threw its limp body away from 
him.
         
"NO!"  The scream tore from Mulder's throat as he heard the sound 
of bones breaking.  Then he saw the last glimmer of light in his life 
lying motionless on his bedroom floor.  In a blind rage, he threw 
himself at the n'thral, kicking and clawing.  The large creature 
effortlessly grabbed his arms holding him immobile.  "Now, it is time 
for us to party, pretty one," he purred.  His body jerked suddenly as a 
gunshot rang out from behind them, and the front of the n'thral's face 
exploded as the bullet exited his skull from above his right temple -- 
he toppled over dead.  
       
Mulder was splattered with blood and brain matter, he stumbled 
away from the dead n'thral, meeting Agent Boutotte's stunned eyes 
briefly as the man lowered his gun.  Mulder rushed over to Rex's 
side, he gently touched the side of the dog's head hearing a faint 
whimper.  Rex turned his head enough to lick his human's hand one 
final time, before lying totally still.  Mulder pulled his lifeless body 
into his arms and cradled him against his chest as anguished sobs of 
grief poured out of him.
           
"Fuck, Phil, how did that thing get into the building?" Pipino 
muttered.
          
"I don't know, did you call for backup?" Boutotte asked.
        
"Yeah, they should be here any second.  Phil, let's get Mulder next 
door, I don't think it's a good idea that he's here when the other agents 
and police arrive."  Pipino glanced sadly over to where Mulder sat on 
the floor holding his dead dog's body.  The gore from the dead n'thral 
did nothing to mar his beauty.
        
"Mulder, we need to get you out of here, the police and the FBI are 
coming."  It took Pipino several minutes to pry the younger man's 
fingers off the dog and pull him to his feet.  
         
Mulder was in a daze as he was led next door; the older agent took 
him into the bathroom, and sat him down on the closed toilet seat.  
"Stay here, I'll be right back."  Pipino ran into the hallway, and 
started scooping the clean laundry back into the basket; he carried it 
back into his apartment then started searching through it for 
something for Mulder to wear.
          
He carried a clean sweatshirt and sweatpants into the bathroom, 
hanging them on a hook behind the door.  The older agent noticed 
that Mulder hadn't even blinked an eye since he left.  He was staring 
blindly ahead of him at the wall.  "Mulder, why don't you get out of 
those clothes and into the shower.  I've brought you in some clean 
clothes."
         
Mulder didn't even seem to hear him.  Pipino heard the pounding of 
feet in the hallway as men rushed into the apartment next door.  
"Don't move, I'm going next door to see what's going on."  The older 
agent closed the bathroom door, then locked the apartment door on 
his way out.
          
A short time later, Walter Skinner exited the staircase on the fourth 
floor; he sprinted to Mulder's apartment, pushing past the agents and 
police already on the scene.  He looked around frantically for 
Mulder, stopping stunned in the bedroom doorway.  An eight-foot 
tall n'thral lay dead on the floor and across the room was the body of 
Mulder's dog.  "God.  Agent Pipino, where's SAC Mulder?" Skinner 
interrupted his agent who was talking to a police detective.
        
Pipino broke off his conversation with the detective and turned to 
face his agitated boss.  "He's safe, I have him locked in the apartment 
next door," he said.
       
"Please, tell me that you didn't leave him alone?"  Skinner growled.
      
Vinny Pipino turned a bright shade of red, stammering, "Sir, he's 
fine, I only left him five minutes ago to check on what was happening 
here."
        
"Give me the apartment key."  Skinner held out his hand and Pipino 
dropped the key in it.  The large man rushed next door; he could only 
imagine what shape Mulder would be in after being attacked by 
another n'thral and seeing his dog killed.  Skinner felt sadness over 
seeing Rex's body, but he knew the dog died protecting Mulder.
        
Skinner looked around the two-bedroom apartment, stopping before 
the closed bathroom door; he slowly opened it, finding Mulder sitting 
listlessly on the toilet seat.  He knelt down next to him, frowning at 
the gore that was clinging to his hair and T-shirt.
       
"Mulder, can you hear me?" he asked softly.
         
Getting no response, he grabbed the younger man's chin and turned 
his head to look at him.  Mulder's eyes were void of recognition, so 
Skinner gently slapped his cheeks trying to get some response from 
him.  "C'mon, Fox, I know you're in there," Skinner said.
        
"It's Mulder not Fox, only my lovers call me Fox," he mumbled, 
distantly.  His eyes began to focus on the bald headed man kneeling 
before him.  "Oh, God, that thing killed Rex . . . my fault, it's all my 
fault," he sobbed.
       
"Mulder, what happened?"
         
"I . . . with the n'thrals all gone from the building and the 
neighborhood, I thought it would be safe for me to go down to the 
laundry room.  When I got back to my apartment that thing was 
inside waiting for me . . . Rex tried to defend me, but he didn't stand 
a chance against that giant.  It's all my fault, I never should have left 
my apartment," he grieved. 
        
"You didn't know, Mulder, you thought it was safe.  C'mon let me 
help you get out of these clothes and into the shower, it will make 
you feel better."  Skinner reached for the bottom of Mulder's T-shirt 
and helped him pull it over his head.  He pulled the sneakers and 
socks off his agent's feet, then stood, and turned on the shower.
        
Mulder climbed shakily to his feet and started removing his jeans.  
When Skinner turned back to help him, Mulder pushed his hands 
away.  "Sir, if you don't mind I would like some privacy."
       
"Of course, I'm sorry.  I'll be in the next room if you need anything," 
Skinner murmured, leaving the bathroom, he paced around the living 
room until Mulder finally stepped out of the bathroom.  
       
Mulder appeared to be totally under control as he met Skinner's eyes.  
"Sir, I won't be able to stay in my apartment until they remove the 
bodies, do you think it would be possible for you to speed them up?"
        
"Mulder, maybe it would be better if you came back to Viva Towers 
with me, you can stay in my guest room until we can find you an 
apartment in the building," Skinner suggested earnestly.
      
"No.  This is where I live and I'm not moving, especially to a 
complex as large as Viva Towers!  It's bad enough that I have all the 
agents at the Hoover Building following me around as if I was a bitch 
in heat, I don't want them anywhere near where I live!  At least this 
building doesn't have nearly as many apartments," Mulder replied 
hotly.
        
"Mulder, they've been getting better, they're not following you 
around nearly as much anymore.  You have to admit that your 
appearance has shocked everyone at the FBI, and it was only natural 
that the men would be curious at first.  In time they won't even give 
you a second look," Skinner replied, not believing his own words, 
Mulder would always receive second and third looks.
         
"It doesn't matter, I'm not moving this is my home and I won't allow 
it to be taken away from me, too."  Mulder did not want Walter 
Skinner's pity, he knew he'd never have the man's respect or 
friendship again -- that was, if he'd ever had it to begin with, he was 
no longer sure about that.
        
Skinner knew he'd never convince Mulder to move once the man had 
his mind made up to stay.  "Okay, Agent Mulder, I'll see if I can 
speed up the forensic team."
        
"Sir, there's one other thing.  Rex . . ." Mulder's voice broke and he 
struggled to maintain composure.
       
Skinner nodded, knowing what Mulder was going to ask.  "Don't 
worry, Mulder, I'll take care of Rex.  I'll make sure he has a proper 
burial."
        
"Thank you, sir."
      
"No problem, and I'll help you clean after the bodies are removed 
and the forensic team leaves."
        
"Sir, it's not necessary for you to stay . . . I'll be able to clean the 
room myself."
        
"Agent Mulder, you've just been through a traumatic experience.  I'm 
staying to help you . . . whether you want me to or not!" he growled 
in his most authoritative voice.
       
Mulder's lip curled up in a weak smile.  Skinner in surly boss mode 
always comforted him; the man was extremely handsome when he 
stood straight with his chest puffing out as he growled at him.  He 
had recent fantasies about wrapping his arms around the larger man's 
slim waist and stopping that growl with a kiss.  He wondered what 
Skinner would do if he did that.  Probably knock him flat on his ass 
with an upper cut or put him in another headlock.
        
The soft smile on Mulder's face took Skinner's breath away and he 
felt his body responding to it.  He turned and fled the apartment 
before Mulder saw the effect he was having on him.  Mulder had 
enough problems without the knowledge that his boss had the *hots* 
for him.
            
***
        
Mulder spent the weekend moping around his apartment, he cried 
himself to sleep each evening missing Rex.  He spent all of Sunday 
trying to get in contact with Dana Scully, he even tried to call her 
brother Bill, but he had no luck.  Those bastards at Northridge still 
would not allow anyone besides family members to visit or contact 
the women.  As the weekend ended, he was becoming more 
despondent and lonely, he still wasn't back on normal terms with 
Frohike.  Their fight from this spring had damaged their friendship, 
although Frohike had made many overtures to get their friendship 
back on track.  Mulder had kept the shorter man at arm's length afraid 
of being hurt again.  With Rex dead, he now had no one in his life 
that cared for him.
        
Monday at work he found himself going through the routine of 
reviewing reports, but his heart was no longer in his job.  On 
Tuesday, there wasn't anyone in his life to acknowledge his birthday.  
That day his despair and depression peaked as he started wondering 
why he was even bothering to go on.
        
Mulder entered his apartment that evening with Agents Jameson and 
Jackson at his side.  The two agents did a quick inspection of the 
apartment, making sure that no one had broken in.
       
"Mulder, do you need anything?  If not, we're heading next door," 
Jameson asked, standing in the doorway.
        
"No.  Go ahead."
       
After they left, Mulder locked only the bottom lock; he saw no point 
in making it too difficult for them to get in to retrieve his body.  He 
went into the bathroom and emptied his bladder.  He hadn't eaten 
anything since Sunday; the idea of food had turned his stomach.  He 
thought morbidly that at least he wouldn't shit all over himself after 
he blew his brains out.
           
Mulder removed his tie and suit coat, making himself relatively 
comfortable.  He pulled his gun from his holster; walked over to his 
desk, opened the bottom drawer, reached under some papers, and 
pulled out a silencer, which he attached to the gun.  He stopped at the 
television set and turned it on, it would drown out any noise that his 
suicide made.
        
He sat on his sofa and took a deep breath, tears were flowing freely 
now as he put the silencer under his left temple and angled it up.  He 
squeezed the trigger and the bullet tore through his brain and blew a 
large hole in the back of his skull.  His body slumped dead on the 
sofa as his hand fell into his lap; the gun was still firmly held in its 
grasp.  The wall behind Mulder's sofa was splattered with blood and 
gore, and the bullet had lodged in the center of the mess. 
        
***
        
At 1:00 a.m., Skinner woke up and looked at the clock, he couldn't 
sleep.  Since early evening, he'd had a sickening feeling deep in his 
gut that something had happened to Mulder.  He climbed out of bed 
and pulled on his clothes.  Arming himself against the ghouls 
roaming the neighborhoods at night, he headed for the parking 
garage.  As he drove through the exit, he waited until the garage door 
had closed safely behind him before continuing on his way.
        
He had the keys to both Mulder's building and apartment.  The street 
was well lit in front of the building; he glanced around for any ghouls 
before climbing out of his car.  He quickly made his way up the steps 
and inside the steel bars.  
      
Skinner took the stairs up to Mulder's apartment; he quietly sneaked 
by the apartment next to Mulder's not wanting to disturb the two 
agents sleeping within, holding his breath as he unlocked Mulder's 
door.  He stepped into the darkened room and closed the door quietly 
behind him.  The only sources of light came from the television set 
and the fish tank.  He saw Mulder sitting on his sofa and assumed he 
was sleeping until he got closer.  The metallic stench of blood hit him 
immediately, and he reached for a light switch, flicking it on.  He 
gasped, then fled the room for the bathroom, and retched up all the 
contents in his stomach.  Skinner hadn't gotten sick at the sight of a 
dead body since Vietnam, but seeing the man that he loved with his 
brains spattered on the wall made him deathly ill.
         
He climbed back shakily to his feet and taking a deep breath to calm 
himself, he walked back into the living room.  He couldn't help the 
sob that escaped his lips or the tears that flowed freely down his face 
at the sight of Mulder's beautiful dead face.  It was white; resembling 
delicate porcelain, and the entrance wound appeared to be almost 
healed.  Skinner frowned; wounds didn't heal on a dead man.  He 
wiped tears from his eyes trying to clear his blurry vision to study the 
wound more closely -- it was healing.  With a shaky hand, he touched 
Mulder's throat searching and searched for a pulse, finding none, his 
hand caressed the cold flesh.  He studied the exit wound.  By the 
amount of blood and gray matter on the wall, he thought there should 
have been more damage.
        
Skinner knew he should call and report Mulder's death, but 
something stopped him.  Instead he sat on the coffee table in front of 
Mulder's body and watched him.  He no longer wanted to leave this 
apartment without the man he loved, so he prayed for a miracle.  As 
the hours passed, his grief subsided and total amazement overtook 
him.  By 4:30 a.m., the wound below Mulder's left temple was totally 
healed and the damage to the back of his skull was almost closed.  By 
6:00 a.m., Mulder started breathing again, it was ragged at first, but it 
quickly became stronger.  
       
Mulder slowly opened his eyes and was surprised to find Walter 
Skinner sitting quietly watching him.  He then realized he was still 
alive.  Did he miss?  Had the gun misfired?
       
"Why, Mulder?"  Skinner asked sadly.
       
Mulder stared at him in shock as dread crept into his belly, he 
realized that Skinner knew he had attempted to kill himself.  He 
looked down at the gun still in his hand, letting it go he reached his 
hand up to his temple.  He figured he must have knocked himself out.
       
Skinner watched the emotions flash across Mulder's face.  The look 
of puzzlement as he touched his temple annoyed, then angered 
Skinner.
        
"You didn't miss if that's what you're thinking," he growled.
        
Mulder licked his lips and focused his eyes back on Skinner's angry 
face.  "What happened?" he asked weakly.
       
"I arrived here at 1:30 this morning to find that you'd shot yourself 
through the head," he snapped, jerking his chin at the wall behind 
Mulder.
       
Mulder turned and gaped at the dried blood and gore on the wall and 
sofa behind him.  His eyes locked on a bloody fragment of skull that 
had landed on the back of his sofa.  "So, I guess I didn't miss," he 
murmured.
      
"No, you fucking didn't miss!  Why Mulder?"
        
Mulder lowered his head so his boss wouldn't see the tears flowing 
from his eyes.  "Yesterday was my birthday.  I've always hated my 
birthday; it reminds me of how alone I am.  I know it's a stupid 
reason to give up." 
      
"Mulder, what do you mean you're alone?  What about Joshua 
Campbell, I thought he was your lover?" Skinner asked softly.
        
Mulder looked at him with red rimmed eyes, clearly baffled.  "Joshua 
Campbell was a man I used to play b-ball with, he moved out west to 
be with his brother after the virus killed his wife.  We were never 
lovers."
         
"I'm sorry, I was told you were involved with him," Skinner said.  He 
was angry with himself for allowing a stranger's lies to put a wall 
between him and Mulder.  He needed to fix the damage that he had 
done.
       
"Mulder, you're not alone, I'm here for you, talk to me, please."  
Skinner rested his hands on Mulder's knees.
        
"No.  You're not.  I thought we had become friends, but I realized 
you only befriended me out of pity.  That's why you could barely 
tolerate looking at me in August, you realized that I had become too 
needy."  Mulder mumbled.
        
"I'm sorry, Mulder, it wasn't anything you did.  It was me, I found 
myself enjoying your company too much.  I'm your boss, and I was 
scared that I was getting too close to you.  I realize now how stupid I 
was to think that.  If you'll let me, I would like to try again, and it has 
nothing to do with pity."  Skinner squeezed his knees affectionately; 
he couldn't tell Mulder the whole truth -- which was that he left him 
out of jealousy and a sense of betrayal.  He still didn't know where 
Mulder stood sexually and he didn't want to scare him off while he 
was in such a fragile state.
        
"Is there going to be an again?  After word reaches the bureau that I 
attempted suicide, I'll probably be locked away in some mental 
institution," Mulder sighed, looking shakily up at Skinner.
       
"No one is going to find out, Mulder, I'm the only one who knows.  
However, I want you to promise me that you'll never try this again, if 
you're feeling depressed I want you to come and talk to me."
        
"Okay, thanks."  Mulder looked relieved, he glanced back at the wall 
behind him again.  "Sir, can you tell me what happened?  Why am I 
still alive?"
         
"Mulder, you were dead when I arrived.  There was a hole in your 
temple and the back of your skull was gone.  I sat here for the past 
five hours and watched your wounds heal, you only started breathing 
again right before you woke up."
      
"Oh, God, what does that make me?"
         
"I'd say that makes you an immortal, Mulder.  I wonder if other 
injuries would heal as quickly?"  Skinner looked at him 
speculatively.
       
"They do, I tried to cut myself a couple of weeks ago, and that wound 
healed in a few hours."  Mulder cringed at the stormy look on 
Skinner's face.  "I thought if I could make myself a little less 
attractive I'd be left alone."  Mulder felt ill; he couldn't kill himself 
now even if he wanted to.  The only control he had left in his life was 
the knowledge that he could end it, now he didn't even have that.
       
"I think we should have Doctor Harris run some tests on you.  There 
must be a way to tell if you're really an immortal."
       
"Other than coming back from the dead after blowing my brains 
out?" Mulder asked sarcastically.  Knowing that suicide was no 
longer an option for him, he needed to get control back over his life.
      
"You have a point."  Skinner grinned suddenly.  "At least I won't 
have to worry about you getting killed, and it should lower our 
division's insurance rates," he replied.
       
Mulder smiled saucily.  "And, no more long hospital stays for this 
boy . . . I guess it does have some advantages."
        
"C'mon, I'll give you a hand cleaning up this mess before Agents 
Jameson and Jackson stop over to pick you up for work," Skinner 
said, patting Mulder on the leg as he stood and headed for the 
kitchen.
        
Mulder followed Skinner into the kitchen, the larger man reached 
under the sink pulling out a bucket and a box of Ajax cleaner.  He 
filled the bucket with hot water as Mulder grabbed a roll of paper 
towels and a garbage bag.  Going back into the living room, he 
shuddered in disgust as he started wiping the large chunks of gore 
from the wall and sofa.  He found one piece of scalp with his hair still 
attached, throwing it in the bag he paused and felt the back of his 
head.  He couldn't locate a bald spot, his hair was thick and long.  
        
Skinner started scrubbing the blood off the wall and sofa.  "Don't 
throw that away, Mulder, I want Doctor Harris to have those 
samples."  He pulled out his pocket knife and dug the bullet out of 
the wall.
      
"Do we have to tell him about this?" 
        
"Yes.  He's your doctor and I think it's important that he knows 
everything that affects your health or is part of this mutation you 
have, coming back from the dead definitely qualifies," Skinner 
replied, placing the bullet in his pocket.
          
It was 7:30 by the time Skinner finished cleaning the blood from the 
wall and he was just dumping the last bucket of pink tinged water 
down the drain when there was a knock on the door.  "Hey, Mulder, 
are you ready?"  Agent Jameson shouted through the closed door.  
         
Mulder had left Skinner to finish cleaning while he showered and 
changed for work.  He walked into the kitchen and stared at Skinner 
in dismay.  "Sir, how will we explain your presence here?" he 
whispered.
        
"We don't have to, you go ahead with them, and I'll meet you back at 
work."  As Mulder turned to leave, Skinner's low voice stopped him.  
"And, Mulder, I want to see you in my office at ten o'clock.  I'm 
going to schedule an appointment with Doctor Harris for you today."
            
***
        
Doctor Harris came into the room with Doctor Wells from the CDC.  
"He's definitely an immortal, Walter.  We conducted several tests on 
him while he was under anesthesia, each time his body healed 
perfectly.  We're waiting for the results of the final test," Harris 
stated.
         
"Sam, when can I take him home?" Skinner asked, looking at his 
watch.  It was past 9:00 p.m.; they'd been there since 11:00 a.m.
        
"Ah, as soon as the tip of his finger grows back," Harris stated 
cautiously, glancing back accusingly at Doctor Wells who stood 
behind him well out of A.D. Skinner's reach.
         
"WHAT!" Skinner roared.  "You cut off his finger!  What the *fuck* 
made you do that?  You were only suppose to inflict a few small cuts 
on him and monitor how long they took to heal, how could you have 
done something like that to him?"
       
"Walter, calm down, it was only the tip and it has already started to 
grow back.  Doctor Wells needed to know if his body could also 
regenerate missing body parts.  After all, his other injuries healed 
remarkably fast and he did grow back that section of his skull he 
lost," Harris reasoned weakly.
        
"Sam, if either of you do anything like this to him again I'll do the 
identical thing to your body," he growled.  Skinner wasn't 
comfortable with including Doctor Wells in on Mulder's 
examination, but since Mulder mutated, two other men in the U.S. 
had mutated in the same way, and he had been put in charge of their 
cases.  Anything Wells could learn from Mulder would help the other 
two men and vise versa.  
        
"I'm sorry, Walter, we won't intentionally injure him again," Harris 
mumbled, realizing that they had gone too far.
           
***
       
Hoover Building
Wednesday, November 18
1:30 p.m.
                
Mulder wrapped his coat around him as he sneaked out of the Hoover 
Building.  He needed some time alone and he wanted to go to his 
favorite place to think.  It was the end of November and the weather 
was cold outside.  He didn't think he'd run into any other pedestrians 
as he made his way toward the reflection pool.  In the distance, he 
noticed humvees patrolling the streets.  Thinking nothing of them, he 
continued on his way, until he reached his park bench.
         
He sat on the bench staring out over the autumn landscape as leaves 
blew past him; he huddled deeper into his long, black, woolen 
overcoat.  Since his birthday, his life had gotten a little better.  He 
finally made peace with Frohike, Langly, and Byers.  His friends had 
been shocked by his appearance, but they agreed to his demands that 
they suppress their sense of smell around him.  He still wasn't able to 
get in touch with Scully, which sadden him the most.
        
Walter Skinner stopped by his apartment regularly to check on him 
and to keep him company.  Mulder smiled.  Skinner would hit the 
roof if he found out that he was outside alone without his security 
detail.  Mulder decided it was worth the risk for just a few peaceful 
minutes to be outside alone to meditate.  The other agents at the 
bureau were starting to get used to him.  He still couldn't go to the 
cafeteria because of his pheromones, but he thought that if Doctor 
Harris did hit on a drug that would suppress them, then he could 
freely go to the cafeteria without worry.
          
Mulder missed Rex; sometimes at night he thought he could still hear 
his dog's toenails tapping against the hardwood floor as he loped 
around the apartment.  Mulder knew he'd never get over losing Rex, 
that he'd sacrificed his life protecting him.  It was the first time in his 
life that Mulder had ever been loved unconditionally.  He still felt 
totally isolated; there was no one in his life that loved him and 
Mulder doubted that anyone would ever love him again.
       
Sighing, he glanced off in the distance and noticed the humvees 
heading down the road in front of where he sat.
               
***        
   
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