DISCLAIMERS ETC IN CHAPTER ONE. PREPONDERANCE By Alanna Rabun Chapter Seven. +++++ A week after she'd fled through Texas, everything still appeared the same. Mulder's rented Ford Explorer crossed the state line and the same plains tretched before them. Nothing ever really changes. Scully had learned that a long time ago. Mulder had barely spoken since he'd met her at Rancho Cardenas, and the only time Scully had pressed the case, he'd simply said, "I'll tell you when we're out of New Mexico." The silence of the drive so far had resembled a funeral procession. Appropriate, she thought, considering she was on a death march. She remembered his earlier words and was about to ask him to finally explain himself, when Mulder spoke. "When I left that cabin yesterday morning, I went into Las Cruces and did some research at the Chamber of Commerce. I asked for their files on all the medical companies in town, so they wouldn't wonder why I was just looking at WestAssure." He paused, then glanced over at her. "Did you know that several of the executives from Roush and TransGen are on the board of directors of WestAssure?" Scully nodded, and turned to face him, watching him as he spoke. His face was drawn, but she saw a spark of life within him. "The finances are completely above reproach, and I couldn't find anything unusual which stuck out. So I went to the city hall and looked over the tax records. Apparently, even though the offices are only on the first floor, they own and occupy all five floors of the building. And according to what they've registered with the the office in charge of safety codes, WestAssure has all sorts of sophisticated medical equipment which an ordinary HMO clinic wouldn't have." Scully bit her lip and absorbed what he was saying. "So you think they're doing experimentation?" "Wait until you hear this." Mulder's voice took on the liveliness of old. "I went to the library and did a little more research. According to newspapers, a woman was found wandering the roads just outside of town last week, probably before you got there. She was disoriented and had no identification. The police took her to the hospital and had her checked out, and the paper ran a story, hoping someone would identify her. When she got better, the police found out she was an undocumented immigrant and shipped her back to Mexico." "Wait--" Scully interrupted, as the gears clicked and turned, "When I applied at Rancho Cardenas, Carla told me that their previous housekeeper had been deported, though not in so many words." "She's not the only one, though." Scully held her breath. "In the past year, four other employees of Rancho Cardenas have disappeared. No missing persons reports were ever filed, until the families of two of the workers stepped forward and contacted the police." He stopped, then spoke again, his voice quieter. "It's a good thing we got you out of there before WestAssure found out about you." She remained quiet. Though neither of them said the words, they both knew.... she could have been the next to disappear. Silence stretched before them once again. Finally, she asked the question which had been forefront in her mind for the past day. "How did you find me?" He looked over at her and a soft chuff of laughter emerged from his chest. "You're not very good at covering your tracks, Scully." She raised an eyebrow but didn't try to defend herself. What he said was true; had some part of her expected, even wanted, to be found? She couldn't answer her question. "I easily traced you through to Kentucky. After that, it was more difficult, but then I got lucky when you used your credit card to check into the motel in Lubbock." Scully bit her lip. Shit. Who else had found that slip? "So I flew out to Lubbock and went from there. In Albuquerque, I found the car you'd abandoned, and compared it with the license plate you'd used when you registered at that motel. Someone in Las Cruces recognized you from television and reported someone matching your description to the police in Rockville, but the idiots up there didn't think it was worth investigating. Why, I don't know, but since it fit with what I'd already figured out so far, I drove south and found you pretty easily." He paused for a moment. "I'm actualy really surprised you made it this far without detection, though you were probably lucky that the news reports on the murder--" he hesitated slightly on the word, "died down after a few days." Sighing, Scully said, "I'm not sure whether to be relieved or outraged." They drove in silence for nearly ten minutes more. Mulder finally spoke in a darker, sadder voice than she'd heard from him in some time. "Why didn't you tell me, Scully?" A rush of disbelief flooded through her at his words. "Mulder, you were on *their* side! I couldn't trust you anymore." At that comment, she could hear his gasp and glanced over to see his knuckles become white on the steering wheel. His face slowly reddened and she watched the rise and fall of his chest become measured, controlled. A muscle at the side of his jaw twitched. "Scully, I was shocked and upset by what you did, but I was not on 'their' side. I will *always* be on your side. Don't you know that by now?" She looked away. "I don't quite know what I believe anymore." "You said something last night, Scully." His voice couldn't disguise his hurt. "You said you'd rather die than live with that chip in your neck. Did you ever stop to think about what that would mean to us?" She turned to look over him, horror flooding through her, along with the beginnings of shame. In a much softer voice, he continued. "Did you ever stop to think what it would mean to me?" Tears began to shine in his beautiful eyes. "You thought you could just leave, that you could go away and escape it all, and die in peace. But dammit, Scully, don't you know that it would have killed me too? If you were dead and nobody could have identified you, I would have spent the rest of my life not knowing where you were or what happened to you." His voice rose. "I've done that once, Scully, and it nearly killed me. I refuse to do it again." She couldn't speak -- she couldn't *think* -- as his words began to absorb through her skin. "You know," he continued, as if his fury could be sloughed off if only he could scream at her, "I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought that I was important to you, that we were everything to each other. Was I wrong?" Scully bit her lip again, wanting desperately to tell him yes, but honesty won the battle and she whispered, "No." He huffed and shuddered next to her, the nearly-spent fury overpowering his body. "I'm so sorry. God, Mulder, I'm so sorry." She reached over and placed her hand over his on the steering wheel. It was so tense, so warm, beneath her palm. After a few moments, his hand finally turned and he clasped hers so tightly that she feared her bones might break. The entwined hands lowered to rest between the seats, and Scully finally began to feel an emotion other than deep shame. It was hope. And the road continued to stretch before them. +++++ Lubbock emerged before them. The city lights twinkled in the darkness like a thousand birthday candles. Mulder followed the interstate into the center of the city. Life was all around them -- it was almost a comfort, as if by reentering society they would be safer than they had been out on the barren plains. But he knew better than anyone that life loved to play tricks on us. Life liked nothing better than to take itself away from us when we least expected. He glanced over at Scully. Though their hands remained clasped, she had leaned her seat back slightly and her eyes were closed, though he doubted that she was asleep. She looked so beautiful beside him. Skin pale in the glow of the streetlights, all the planes of her face softened and curved, giving her a look of innocence. She looked as if she could live forever, promising safety and happiness to anyone she touched. Mulder had rented the Explorer in Lubbock and technically had to return it there, but his credit card was paid in full and flying back to D.C. wasn't a good option for them, so he made the decision to keep it until they got back home, even if the final bill was ridiculously high. Besides, he wasn't sure if he could give her up yet. When they got home, she would have to turn herself in -- they'd be watching her apartment and they couldn't hide easily in the capital. He wanted nothing more than to have her with him for just a few more days, both so that they could plan what they'd do and so that he could savor her presence for just a while longer before she'd be incarcerated indefinitely. He needed her more than they did. Rather than changing drivers with the hour approaching midnight, he noticed signs for motels a few exit ramps ahead and decided that they should get some sleep and start again tomorrow. A delaying tactic, a voice inside him said, but also a wise move. Squeezing her hand, he moved into the exit lane and said, "Scully? You awake?" She stirred and though he wanted to watch her return to alertness, he had to keep his eyes on the road. "Mmm... yes. Are we in Lubbock?" "Yeah. I'm going to find us a motel room. How does that sound?" "Fine." She pulled the lever and the seat moved back upright. "But not the Red Roof. That's where I stayed when I passed through here." He nodded. That's where he had also stayed. "There's a Motel 6 across the road. I'll try it." "Okay." As they pulled up to the stoplight at the top of the ramp, he saw her wince. Her hand pulled out of his and she brought her fingertips up to her temples. "You okay?" Mulder didn't bother to hide his concern. She kept her eyes closed and creased her brow. "I have a really bad headache. Do you have any ibuprofin?" Damn. He wished he did, but hadn't brought anything like that with him. "Tell you what: you get us a motel room and I'll run over to the Wal-Mart and get you some. Okay?" "Okay." Her voice was a whisper, and he clenched the steering wheel, afraid of what the headache might mean. As if reading his mind, Scully murmured, "It's just a headache, Mulder. Don't worry about it." "Can you blame me for worrying?" Mulder asked in a harsh voice. She didn't answer. He pulled into the Motel 6 parking lot and stopped the car in front of the office. "I'd better go get the room -- don't want to take the chance of their recognizing you." Scully barely nodded and he got out of the car and went up to the night check-in desk. Paying for one room under the name, "Greg and Debra Johnson", he pocketed the key and walked back to the car. Scully was nearly hunched over in the seat, her face paler than ever. With a rising sense of alarm, he drove over to their room and got out of the car. Hoisting his bag over one shoulder, he noticed she hadn't gotten out, so he went over to her side of the car and opened the door. "Scully? Can you manage to get out?" She nodded with faint resolve and stepped out of the car, nearly folding over when her feet hit the pavement. He half-carried her into the room and helped her onto the bed. Her eyes remained closed and she lay back, panting slightly. Mulder hated to leave her, but had to get her something for the headache. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked down at her. "I'm going to run over to the Wal-Mart, okay? I'll be back in five minutes." "Okay," she whispered, and before he could talk himself out of leaving her, he went out the door, nearly running over to the Wal-Mart across the parking lot. In the health care department, he easily found a bottle of extra-strength ibuprofin, and also grabbed a couple of toothbrushes and toothpaste. Surprisingly, he had to wait at the check-out, despite the late hour. As he glanced down at the items in his basket, the thought hit him with the force of a ton of bricks. Scully could be dying. Again. Suddenly, he couldn't get close enough to her. To the checkout woman's surprise, he flung a $20 bill down on the conveyor belt and grabbed his purchases. "Keep it," he barked, and ran out of the store. Feet pounded on pavement as he ran back to her, the loud steps sounding like a heartbeat coursing through his body. Scully could be dying. He stabbed the key into the motel room door and pushed it open. A blast of cold air hit him, making his sweaty body shiver. The room was dark and through the faint light from outside, he could see her already under the covers, her clothes pooled on the floor. One pale shoulder was bared under the bedspread she'd pulled up over her. Mulder stopped in his tracks, looking at her, then walked over to the bed. "Scully, get dressed. I'm taking you to the hospital." "No!" Her voice was faint, but harsh. "Please, just give me the pills and let me get some sleep." "Scully, no, you could be really sick. You need to go to the emergency room." She rolled onto her back and raised slightly, the bedspread falling to her waist. Her breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing, her beauty shining through her pain and fury. "NO!" she repeated. "I won't go." He rocked back on his feet and stared her down for a long moment. She maintained his gaze, strength still there even though her body was failing. Finally, he took a deep breath and walked over to the small bathroom. Taking a plastic cup from its cellophane wrapper, he filled it with water and walked back over to her. Mulder set the water on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the safety seals on the pill bottle. She watched him from under hooded eyes, then took the pills when he handed them to her. After swallowing them with a long draught of water, she lay back and closed her eyes. He watched her slowly settle into a pained sleep. Mulder brought his hand to her forehead and felt for a fever, but it was only slightly warm. He pulled the blanket back up to her chin, affording her modesty once again, even though he could sit and stare at her naked body for hours on end. The minutes stretched as fatigue claimed her, but he was far from sleep. She could be dying. Losing her was not an option -- not here, not ever. As tears stung his eyes, he stood and walked into the bathroom, then shut the door. Sinking down onto the lowered toilet seat, he let the sobs overtake him, but they refused to cleanse him. No matter what she might want, he could not let this happen. Even if she didn't want to fight, he would selfishly fight for her. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was what he needed more than the air he breathed. Finally, as the tears dried on his skin and his face and chest were sore from crying, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Punching in the numbers he needed, he hit "send". He knew what he had to do. +++++ END (7/9) This chapter is rated NC-17..... Disclamers, etc, in chapter one. PREPONDERANCE By Alanna Rabun Chapter Eight. +++++ He heard the phone ringing in a measured cadence. Though it only sounded through the receiver pressed to his ear, it seemed to echo through the small tiled bathroom. After nearly a half-dozen rings, the person at the other end picked up. "Agent Mulder," the Cigarette-Smoking Man's voice nearly crooned over the line. Mulder wasn't surprised the man had call identification, but at least he'd have a hard time triangulating a cell phone. His voice calm after his earlier tears, Mulder answered, "I have a deal." The man was silent for a few beats, then responded, "Oh?" "You've probably learned by now that Scully removed that tracking device you call a chip from the back of her neck." Mulder tried to keep his voice under control, a difficult feat when conversing with this bastard. "Yes, I was surprised when I received word from some associates of mine that she had." Mulder paused, reviewing the words he had rehearsed before making the call. "The past year has shown that the chip cured her cancer." The Smoking Man's silence was his assent. "She is becoming sick again." Though he didn't speak the words, Mulder's desperate plea that she couldn't go back to that dark illness carried over the telephone lines. "Here is my offer: I will relinquish all active pursuit of your organization. In exchange, I must be given specific assurance that if the chip is reinserted in Scully's neck, it will not be used to control her actions or thoughts in any way." The Smoking Man seemed to hesitate for a moment, then asked, "Agent Scully is worth so much to you?" "Yes." Mulder wondered why this ridiculous man would doubt that for a moment, then suspected he wanted explicit acknowledgement of it. Bastard. "Interesting offer, Agent Mulder." Mulder continued, issuing his coup de grace. "And I want you to listen very closely." He nearly barked the words, the control he'd held over his anger rapidly deteriorating. "If you don't keep your end of the bargain and Scully dies, I will go public with everything I know about you and your organization." The other man seemed stunned into silence. Mulder knew better, though, than to let himself feel too confident. "You have nothing." His words were bitter ipecac syrup over the phone lines. Mulder growled in a low voice, "Scully and I have more than you think we do. And even if we don't have enough evidence to crucify your rotten souls in a court of law, imagine how your organization," he sneered the word, "would look plastered on every newspaper in the country, on CNN, on the network news? You must have learned by now how much people are willing to believe, based on vague allegations." The older man was silent for a very long time. Finally, a note of fear deep down in his otherwise controlled voice, he said, "I will discuss this with my colleagues." Mulder finally felt something resembling confidence. "You have my cellular number. Contact me after you've spoken with them." He stabbed the END button on his phone and collapsed back against the toilet, shuddering and breathing heavily. A wave of nausea flooded through his stomach and he swallowed furiously, trying to quell it. It might all go to hell, but at least he now had a bargaining point. Rising to his feet, he grasped at the towel rack to regain his balance, then turned off the lights and walked out of the bathroom. In the dim light of the curtains, he saw Scully asleep in the bed, a fine sheen of sweat on her brow. Yes, he would give up everything for her. Going back into the bathroom, he rinsed a washcloth in cold water and rung it out, then walked back over to where she lay. She didn't move as he pressed the damp cloth to her forehead, and after leaving it there for a few moments, he set it on the nightstand and touched her brow. She wasn't as feverish as he'd suspected, but to be safe, he went over to the large air conditioning unit under the window and turned down the temperature as far as it would go. Mulder wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her as she slept. More than just wanting it, he *needed* it. Shedding his own clothes down to his boxers, he crawled into the bed next to her, feeling the cool sheets whisper over his skin. She stirred slightly as he slipped one arm underneath her and the other around her stomach, pulling her close until her skin became his own. And in the darkness of night, he allowed himself to hope. +++++ The first thing I feel as I slowly awake is fingertips gently pressing into my stomach. I pull away from the touch, but the arms pull me tighter. Then a warm cheek presses against my face and I inhale deeply. I recognize the scent immediately. It is Mulder. Something deep inside of me tells me to get away, but it is quelled by the warmth flooding my veins. The remnants of my fading headache are forgotten as one hot hand closes over my breast and slowly squeezes. I shiver, and the warmth sings in my blood. "Mmm... Scully." His voice is a drowsy whisper. I catch my breath and close my eyes, feeling his voice wash over me. The need to see his face is just as strong, so I turn in his arms so that I can see him. I immediately notice that he is asleep. Is this all in his dreams? Somehow, the idea of it thrills me. I shift against him and feel the hardness of his cock against me as he thrusts into the flesh of my stomach. He is seeking me out, making love to me in his sleep. Oh, God. I realize that more than anything, I want him make love to me awake. Desire for him controls me, makes me press my lips up to his. I trace their lines with my tongue, tasting his salty sweat. Though I've fantasized about his lips many times, their slack softness is a new, incredible experience. He awakens, and looks at me with drowsy, disoriented eyes. Confusion is soon replaced by knowledge, and like a light being switched on, his mouth latches onto mine. As his lips press into my own and his tongue seeks entrance to my mouth, a wave of love surges through me. I love him. In this dark hotel room, all my problems vanish and my life boils down to those three words. Touches melt into bruising grasps. Kisses melt into bites and swipes of tongues. Our skin is adhesive, gluing us together. Though I've dreamed of a hundred nights of long, languid lovemaking, now that the dreams are becoming reality, I need more than soft caresses. I need *him*. Reaching down between us, I curl my fingers around his length, squeezing it and shivering at the electricity which flows through him at my actions. I roll his body over mine, wanting him to possess me just this once, to bring me back to who I once was with him. I know that I won't come simply with him inside of me, but finding release is suddenly less important than taking him within my body. My hands snake under the waistband of his boxers, and pull them down, where he kicks them aside. As I tug him closer to where I want him, he looks startled, but I beg him with my eyes. Please. Please. Now. He enters me swiftly and I contract around him as he fills all the places within me which have been hollowed out over the past six years. At that moment, I know that everything in my life will be okay so long as he is here with me, inside of me. More than knowing it, I believe it. And then he speaks, his words in reckless gasps. "This never has to end." His statement brings me crashing back down to reality. Had I been so foolish as to think that making love to him would make our world dissolve? He thrusts again, the head of his penis pushing against the barrier of my womb, and I curse my smallness, that I can't take him even further inside of me. "I offered them a deal, Scully." My name on his lips is more sexual than what our bodies are doing. I open my mouth to ask what he means, but he continues to speak. "I told them that they could have it all -- that if they'd just leave us alone, we'd walk away." I freeze, even as his lips and body continue to make love to me. He seems to sense the change, and stops, staring deep into my eyes. "Scully, you're so much more important than all that." I'm not sure whether to be furious that he'd do this without talking to me first, or moved to tears that he'd give everything up for me. Then, as his mouth moves from my face and trails down my neck and shoulders, I realize that I would have done the same for him. The depth of his love is the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced. Mulder's mouth moves to my breasts and he draws one nipple between his lips, as the thrills of climax I hadn't expected to reach begin to rise within my body. As if he's inside my mind, his lips continue to suckle as one hand moves between our bodies. His palm presses into my mons with each of his thrusts, and his fingers seek out my clit. I'm completely unprepared for the orgasm which rocks my body, tearing apart my cells and sending me reeling. He continues to thrust within me, his arms clutching me closer, closer. Eyes meet my own, watching me as I shudder and pant. "I -- need -- you," he gasps. As he presses into me, the air in the room charges and sparks on our bodies, the chilled air conditioning reacting violently to the searing heat of our skin. I look up at him and realize that, despite the complete newness of the situation, our making love like this is more normal than anything else in our lives. We could build a home in this bed, living here forever without guns, enemies... or nosebleeds. My eyes tear up at the sight of him, his face straining in rapture, and I discover that I am his world. Safe and warm and -- oh, God -- in love with him. His climax finally begins, its energy traveling from him into me. He struggles to keep his eyes open, and I place my hands on his back, tracing his muscles and whispering in his ear. "Come," I urge, with the sated tenderness of a woman who has already reached her peak. "I love you. Come." And he does, his eyes closing and his lips moving in silent, ecstatic platitudes. I pull him close, so close, carrying him over the threshold. As his tremors subside, he melts into my body. I've never felt closer to him than I do at this moment. Our past is now behind us -- all the posturing and dancing around the truth -- and the rest of our new lives lies before us. But, as he looks at me with an expression of awe painted on his face, I'm brought back to reality. How much longer will those lives last? He seems to read my mind, as tears slowly begin spilling over his eyelids. In an exhausted whisper, he begins to speak. "They're going to give you your life back, Scully. I asked them, and they're going to give it back." Mulder interrupts my question of "how?" by continuing, "I told him that they had to let you live, and that if they would promise that to me, I would walk away from everything. They can have it all, as long as I can have you." His lips brush over my face, giving me the tender kisses our passion had forgotten earlier. I want to sit up, to look down at him and discuss just what he means, but God, lying here with him feels so good, so perfect. Still, reality beckons me with a cruel laugh. "We can't, Mulder." He flinches above me, his lips pulling away from my neck and his eyes lifting to meet my own. I continue to speak the truth to him, hating myself for it but knowing that we can't rest forever in this idyll. "You're forgetting that I'm still a fugitive, and we can't hide from that forever." He rolls off of me, his arms still holding me close so that I'm nestled against him, my body limp but my emotions tense. In a petulant voice, he murmurs, "Why not?" I know that he knows why. "Even if we survive this -- and I know we will -- I still have to face up to what I've done. We have to go home and face the authorities, and let justice take its course. You know that, Mulder." He doesn't answer. "You have to understand. As much as I love you, I can no more live with running away from this than I can live with that chip in my neck." "I know," he whispers. I begin to kiss him, my tears sliding over the smooth skin of his cheek. "Tomorrow morning, we're going to get back on the road and drive back to Maryland, and I'm going to turn myself in to the police." I can hear his strangled sob. "And Mulder?" I raise up on one elbow so that I can look at him. "We're going to make the most of these next few days, because it might be all we have, for a very long time." And we are bathed in an ocean of tears. +++++ END (8/9)