**********************
Iced 05/15

Mulder found himself still sitting at the counter, concentrating 
on that last statement, when the shower turned on.  Some 
quiet part of his tired mind was laughing.  It realized -- even if 
he wasn't willing to think about it - -what a monumental paradox 
this past twenty-four hour period had become.  He knew, 
somehow, that for the rest of his life he'd remember the day 
the creatures came back with horror, fear, extreme emotional 
turmoil, and one of the most calming, secure feelings he could 
ever recall.  

Maybe he was going to survive this invasion after all?  He 
had a safe place to stay during the bad times.  A new partner 
who understood the dangers now and knew how to keep himself 
alive too.  And a protector against the ones who would seek 
revenge for a thing they caused by coming to this place, by
being in league with the ones who brought him here and left
him, stealing his memories, his mind, his *life* from him.

But, there would still be periods of hell to go through until
the monsters went away again.  They'd found food now;
they wouldn't leave as soon as they did before.  Mulder 
walked to one of the couches and sat down, leaning against 
the arm rest with both feet on the next cushion.  He picked 
up the statue he'd been holding all night and looked at it 
again. Solid, silver, sleek, and almost delicate, it was so 
very different from the images his mind held of the monsters.
And yes, he couldn't help but feel the two were connected. 
The metal felt good in his hands, heavy and nicely weighted, 
with a smooth, almost soft feeling.  

He was still staring at it when Skinner came out of his room, 
dressed in clean clothes with a towel still draped around his 
neck.  "How about some dinner?  I'm starved." 

Mulder looked up, pulling himself out of his thoughts.  "Oh, 
yeah.  Do you want me to --" 

"No, I've got it, Mulder."  Skinner was already in the galley, 
pulling things out of cupboards.  "Have you thought about
rereading your personal logs for more clues to what 
happened?" 

"What?"  Mulder nearly dropped the statue.  "How did you ...?" 

"I heard you a few times."  Skinner shrugged, looking at
Mulder from the galley.  "Look, Mulder, it's your business.  
I knew if you wanted me to know you had the records, 
you'd tell me." 

He swallowed hard, wondering if Skinner was going to be 
angry about this.  "No, I haven't."  Mulder looked back down 
at the figure and began running a finger over its head.  "I 
should get rid of it.  It's just a way of talking things out
with myself.  It's not healthy." 

"Maybe."  Skinner turned on a heating unit and set a pot 
down over it.  "It's hard, I know.  You were alone for a long
time.  It only makes sense that you needed a way to work 
things out."

"You've heard me talking?"

Skinner nodded, stirring the pot.  "To yourself?  To the
computer?"

"Me, I guess.  Just sorta hashing things out.  It's like
I'm two people sometimes.  And one of them is not
very nice."  Mulder frowned.  "He's been no use to 
me all this time, just made me crazy." 

"That's not true, Mulder.  It was someone to talk to, 
at least."  Skinner looked down suddenly, clenching 
his jaw for a moment.  "Be glad of that."  He shrugged 
off whatever caused the interruption and glanced at 
Mulder again.  "Besides, if it did nothing else, it 
kept you alive all this time." 

Mulder had been watching Skinner as he sat sideways
on the couch, facing the galley.  Something had upset 
him for an instant, something that gave Mulder a flash 
of the same hard, unbending look Skinner had bestowed 
upon McMurray and the mob outside.  It struck him just 
then, seeing that look, that this man was a warrior.  Had 
been a warrior, and still was.  Somewhere, at some unremembered
point in his life, Mulder had learned -- in theory -- what 
wars and battles do to men.  How they shape them from 
the inside.  He'd just never seen it until now.  

"You meant what you said about them, didn't you?" 

Skinner looked up from his pots and pans, eyebrows creased. 
"What's that?" 

"McMurray, and those people.  They wanted you to send me 
out there, alone, and you refused."  Mulder had been speaking 
to the statue as his fingers stroked the smooth metal.  Now he 
looked up.  "You meant that, didn't you?" 

"Yes, I did."  Skinner added something from a jar into a 
pot and began to stir it.  "McMurray's a fool, and he had 
a mob brewing.  The only thing more dangerous than a fool, 
is the mob that follows one."  He looked up over the steam 
rising from his pot and met Mulder's gaze.  "You're my partner, 
I was protecting you." He shrugged, as if the explanation 
should have been obvious.  

Mulder nodded, letting one fingernail pick at an edge on the 
sculpture.  "Yeah, well, thanks." 

"Any time, Mulder."  Skinner was looking around the counter. 
"Do we have any pepper?  Oh, never mind, here it is." 

They were coming back, he could feel it.  Skinner had already 
locked the door to the stairs, and the only other door-- his
bolt hole -- they had, was locked now, and barricaded with 
one of the metal bars he'd made for the doors when he was
alone.  Mulder glanced at the clock and saw that nearly twelve
hours had passed since they left.  His heart wasn't racing as 
bad as he expected.  At least now he wasn't the only one 
who knew something was going to happen now that the
darktime was here, and the sky was black, and the monsters 
had awakened from their icy hell.  

***********************************************

Dinner an incredible blend of pasta and meat, with a red 
sauce and carbonated drinks.  It was delicious.  Mulder 
allowed himself to relax for the first time in what felt like 
forever.  They ate quietly, each enjoying the meal and 
realizing their stomachs hadn't had a proper looking after 
in over twenty-four hours.  After dinner, Skinner insisted 
he clean up, and shooed Mulder back to the couch.  Both 
of them did their best to pretend nothing was happening 
outside, and except for the occasional inquiry from the 
complex, they managed quite well.  

Until the images returned.  

Mulder was on one of the couches, trying very hard to 
pretend he didn't know what was happening outside.  
But it wasn't working.  Each time he'd reach for his 
glass of soda, his hands were shaking.  Visions of 
black, scaled figures lunging upward with incredible 
speed constantly flashed before his eyes.  Skinner's 
attempts at keeping his mind occupied were valiant, 
but ended in failure.  

"I can't make them stop." 

Skinner leaned forward on the other couch, facing
Mulder.  "Make what stop, Mulder?" 

"These images."  Mulder looked up, searching Skinner's 
sympathetic eyes for the answer.  "They were never 
here before, why are they here now?" 

"I think because we're here."  Skinner set his own 
glass down and raised both hands in explanation.
"Until we came, you stayed inside during the dark, right?" 

Mulder nodded, then reached out for the odd little
sculpture on the table, forgoing his drink.  It had kept 
him safe last night, at least in his mind.  

"And when you stayed inside, they probably stopped 
coming around.  At least they stopped attacking the 
complex, figuring there was no food here."  Skinner 
paused and shrugged slightly.  "I'm sure in the last,
what fifteen, twenty? cycles, you never even saw them.  
With the memory loss, and being alone, you've had no 
reason to recall anything your subconscious didn't want 
you to." 

Mulder felt his hands grip the metal tightly, imagining 
them wrapped around what he could only picture as 
one of the monster's.  
  
"With people here again, your memories tried to resurface, 
but they were so hard to accept, they didn't come back 
easily or quickly." 

"And now that it happened again, I'm associating?" 

Skinner nodded.  "If not the full memory, then some of 
it, yeah." 

"Well I don't want it!"  Mulder jumped off the couch,

tossing the statuette onto the cushions.  "I don't want 
any of it!" 

"Mulder," Skinner stood quickly and moved toward him, 
one hand outstretched.  "I'm sorry, but they're not going 
to stop." 

He pulled away before Skinner could touch him.  "I can't 
deal with them!" 

"Yes, you can!"  Skinner stopped moving forward, but his
gaze fixed on Mulder's, holding him in place as easily as 
if he'd grabbed both of his arms.  "You can deal with them, 
and you will.  Only then will they stop hurting." 

"How?"  Helpless from the confusing images and feelings 
vying for his attention, Mulder glared at Skinner, daring 
him to fix the problem.  

"Because you're a survivor." 

That was his answer?  "So what?  I -- what does that mean?  
When all this is over, I'll be the only one left again?  I can't 
live with that.  Not again!"  As angry as he was, Mulder couldn't 
force himself to move away.  Something in him refused to 
accept his own frustration.  

"It means you have a talent most people wish they had.  A lot 
of people survive a lot of things, Mulder, believe me.  In the 
past thirty years, I've seen people survive by chance, will, and 
sheer dumb luck.  But of all the people I've known, only a few 
knew how.  They weren't the best or toughest warriors, they 
weren't the most intelligent people or leaders.  They were just 
guys who knew how to find a way.  They could adapt, think, 
react, and in many cases simply follow orders quickly and 
efficiently.  It's not -- I can't explain it, really."  Skinner 
shook his head once and appeared to be searching for a
word.  "It's a talent, Mulder.  It can't be taught or explained. 
 But you're one of the best examples I've seen in a long time." 

It was confusing.  He made it sound like being the only 
survivor was a good thing, almost as if it was a compliment.  
True or not, Mulder wanted to believe it.  If only for the fact 
that during those few minutes Skinner was explaining, he 
hadn't had one vision of black death.  

"I think it's time you got some sleep." 

Mulder shook his head.  "I can't.  Not while they're out there." 

"You've slept before, with them here, haven't you?" 

"Yes, but ..." 

"No buts."  Skinner walked past Mulder and into the 
galley where he set a container on the heating unit.  "We're 
secure, the complex is secure.  And neither one of us has slept 
well in the last twenty-four hours." 

The smell coming from the container was familiar.  Resigned, 
Mulder walked to the table and sat down.  He was exhausted.  
At least the sedative tea would prevent dreams, and nightmares.  

"These other survivors you've known, did they feel guilt, too?" 

Skinner walked to the table and set a steaming cup of tea in 
front of Mulder.  "It was the price they paid for their talent." 

Mulder wrapped his hands around the cup and let the scented 
steam waft up to his nose.  "When it got to be too much, what
did they do about it?" 

"They had friends who kept it from getting that far." 

Mulder drank the tea, then managed to use the toilet before
the sedative effects got too strong.  He remembered Skinner 
helping him into the bed, then the familiar sensation of 
floating high above the world.  It was a trip he took now 
and again, when the loneliness was too painful and the 
nightmares too strong.  Some nights he thought he could 
drift forever, and not come back down.  Tonight, as he
started to float, he thought about what life must be like 
back in the Real World.  Where he had a life, and a job,
people who loved him.  A partner who loved him, if Skinner
was to be believed.  He wondered if she -- this Scully -- would
have cared for him with the same passion and intensity that
Walter had.  One hand lifted and touched the delicate cross at
his throat.  Who was this woman who believed in him?  Who
sent her talisman to make him believe?  Was she a survivor,
too?  He had a sudden flash of something, too fast to capture
and hold.  But he was left with the feeling safety and security;
trust in woman half a world away who sent him a savior to
bring him home.  

Maybe they were all survivors.  

*********************************************

When Mulder opened his eyes, instinct told him they were
gone.  He'd managed to sleep dreamlessly for at least 
six hours, maybe more.  Reluctantly, he rolled over and faced 
the night stand.  

"What ... ?"  Surprised, he reached out and touched the sculpture 
on the small table beside the bed.  Skinner must have put it there 
during the night, since the last time Mulder remembered having 
it was back on the couch.  If he'd intended it to be a silent 
watchman, keeping the nightmares away, it worked.  A feeling 
of gratitude washed over Mulder as he ran a hand over the 
smooth surface.  Maybe he was wrong about this invasion of
people after all.  Through the chaos and confusion, the abstract 
terror and complete loss of control, perhaps he'd been rescued 
after all.  

Mulder flung the covers off his legs and sat up to stretch. 
He'd been sleeping in the same sweatshirt Skinner had put 
on him the other morning, so he peeled it off, then held it
to his chest in a self-conscious hug.  Mulder folded the shirt 
and draped it over the back of his chair.  He wasn't even 
going to offer it back.  Skinner had plenty of shirts, he surely
wouldn't miss this one.  He had to know by now -- he had to 
understand -- what it meant to lose everything.  There was 
no way Mulder could go through that again, and be left with 
nothing to remember.  If it happened again ...  God forbid, 
if it happened again, he was damn well going to have
something to remember!

"Hey, Mulder, how about some breakfast?"  Skinner's voice 
called from just outside the bedroom door.  "The bathroom's 
free." 

"Yeah, I'm coming."  Mulder found some clean clothes and 
tossed them on the bed, then hurried out to the bathroom.  
Steam on the edges of the mirror was the only evidence of 
anyone having been in there before him.  As usual, Skinner 
left no trace of showering or even using the sink.  It was a 
contrast that had Mulder putting in a little extra effort when 
disposing of his wet towels and dirty clothes.  He wasn't 
about to take for granted the patience of a man who had 
done so much for him for no apparent reason other than his 
desire to do so.  Not that Mulder ever really felt he was a slob 
or anything.  But living alone was a far cry from sharing your 
living space with another human being who had rights and 
preferences of his own.  

Mulder made quick but thorough work of his shower, 
did a quick clean up of the bathroom, then dashed to 
his room to dress.  He felt that if he could keep his mind 
on the mundane, the images would remain at bay.  

"Hey, have a seat, breakfast is ready."  Skinner waved 
toward the set table as Mulder came out of his room.  

"Thanks."  Mulder reached out and took the container of 
coffee from Skinner's hands, then poured them each a 
cup and sat down.  "Is everything -- did they ...?"  The 
question stuck in his throat, refusing to finish.  

"Everything's fine."  Skinner sat down and began dishing 
up the thick slices of bacon.  "Still locked up tight, no 
problems." 

Mulder nodded, grateful that no one had been killed 
again, and that he hadn't had to ask.  "The cycle should 
be over soon.  It's been long enough."

"Listen, I'm going to go stark raving mad if I have to stay 
locked up in here any longer."  Skinner bit off a chunk 
of bacon, then waved the other half in the air, indicating the 
basement in general.  "What do you say we spend some time 
in the hot tub, huh?  We can take some lunch, maybe a good 
book, and just have a change of pace for a bit." 

Mulder swallowed his mouthful of coffee and glanced around
the room, not sure if this was a test of his moral fiber or just 
a simple question.  

Skinner obviously anticipated his dilemma.  "Mulder, we're 
all exhausted, mentally and emotionally.  All of us."  He set 
down his cup and leaned forward, resting both elbows on the 
table.  "Some of them will immerse themselves in their work, 
and study every shred of data they've recovered so far, and 
they'll get nowhere.  Others will pretend everything's just fine 
and go about some routine jobs, not accomplishing much.  
The rest of them will be at the rec center, watching videos, 
playing pool, anything they can do to get one or two hours of 
peace without having to think about it all." 

Mulder steeled himself against another flash of memory.  This
time it was a room full of nameless faces, walking around as if 
in a daze.  

"It's almost a form of shock.  We've all realized we don't know
what we're facing, we haven't had time to catch our breath,
so we're in a holding pattern.  It's not crass or disrespectful to 
the dead." 

"It's survival."  Mulder lost the vision, then looked up. 
"Isn't it?" 

Skinner inhaled deeply, then slowly began to nod.  "Yes, 
it is." 

******************************************

Whatever he wanted to call it, it was relaxing.  Mulder let 
himself sigh gratefully as he slid into the hot water after 
tossing his clothes aside.  He had his ledge he could rest 
his butt on and still keep his head and just the tips of his 
shoulders out of the water.  The other large ledge, on the 
opposite side of the pool, was too low.  Perfect, however, 
for Skinner.  The taller man walked to the shower first, 
standing in the flow of cold, clear water for a full minute 
before he jumped into the tub with a great splash.  Mulder 
shielded his eyes from the hot spray, then leaned his head 
back a bit and watched steam rise from his bare skin while 
Skinner floated in the middle of the tub for a  few minutes.  

Mulder had often fallen asleep in that position, with his 
head resting on the ledge and both arms hitched up on 
the decking to keep him from going under.  Now and again, 
he'd have to splash water over the top of his chest, to stop 
the tickling where bubbles teased up against the light 
smattering of hair.  Skinner didn't seem to have that 
problem.  The light covering of soft fur lay smooth 
against the older man's chest and sometimes the light 
seemed to glint off the golden skin when he was wet.  

They spent the afternoon there, soaking in the hot water, 
sometimes floating in the middle or cooling off in the
shower.  Sounds from the surrounding hallway proved 
Skinner right.  Many of the group was taking rec time
for themselves, claiming a few hours of rest and
forgetfulness.  

Mulder had packed enough fruits and cheeses to make 
a hearty lunch, as well as several books.  After lunch, 
Skinner was happily into the volume of Doyle, sitting 
on one of the higher ledges so he wasn't so deep in the
water.  Mulder had gotten out and was working with pen
and paper, writing down random thoughts, drawing without
thinking. 

While he worked, a part of his mind realized there hadn't 
been any visions since they had gotten to their private spa.  
Sitting there, with the sound of the bubbling water, and 
the soft rustle of paper as Skinner turned a page, he felt 
safe.  Protected from the visions, protected from the
nightmares ... protected from reality.  For a few hours, 
at least, he wasn't having to think his way out of something, 
talk his way through some mind game of his own devising, 
or worry about what was to come.  

But as peaceful as this felt, he knew better than to dwell on it.  

"What's that?" 

Mulder looked up, surprised, just as Skinner was kneeling 
down beside him, pointing to the pad he'd been doodling on.
"Oh, I was just messing around."  He hadn't even realized what 
he'd done.  "I don't know if I got it right, since I've never seen 
one."  A little embarrassed with the quality of his work, he 
handed Skinner the pad.                          

"It's your statue."  Skinner examined the drawing, studying
the large head, with wide, open eyes, the small, slight body.
"Does it have a name?"  

Mulder shrugged, not really wanting to think about the 
thing he'd drawn, or what it meant.    

"It's very well done.  Can I have it?" 

"Um ... yeah, sure." He knew it couldn't possibly be that good
a piece of art.  And of what?  Some statue he had of who knows
what, gotten from who knows where?  He frowned.  What did
Skinner want?  An exchange, maybe?  His drawing for the
shirt he hadn't returned?  If this meant he could keep the 
too large shirt that made him feel safe, made him feel like he
belonged somewhere, then he was more than willing to accept 
that he was an artist.  Even if Skinner was just being polite 
in his assessment.  

Either way, Mulder was keeping the shirt.  He was determined 
never to be left with nothing to remember.  Not this time.

*******************************************

It was the longest night he could remember.  There had been 
harder ones, more dangerous ones, but never in his estimation 
a longer one.  Peters had called down to let them know the 
creatures had come again, and Mulder had quickly padded 
off to bed.  They were developing a pattern.  The creatures 
came, Mulder freaked, and Skinner calmed him down.  The 
first two times, he'd made him tea with the herbal sedative 
in it, then sat with him while he slept.  But after almost 
forty-eight hours of not sleeping, Skinner had been on the 
verge of collapse and had simply crawled into bed with the 
younger man.  No sedative, no discussion, just close, comfortable 
companionship.  That way he would be there if the 
nightmares came, but could still get some sleep of
his own.  Skinner had avoided any further study of 
the creatures invading the complex.  He'd left that 
up to the scientists and experts.  It had been hard 
enough getting his agent to sleep through the night, 
without the use of his sedatives.  There was no way 
he could compound the stress by staying up and 
observing their night visitors.  

But tonight, so far, Mulder hadn't had another nightmare...yet.
Skinner made a pot of coffee and changed into his sweatpants 
and an old shirt for comfort, all the while listening carefully 
for any sign that his friend was having another bad night.  
With luck, the nightmares would end when this cycle of 
predatory visitations passed, but he doubted the visions 
would stop plaguing the younger man any time soon.  

When his coffee was done, Skinner padded over to 
the work area. He flipped on the monitors and pulled 
up the same views those in the complex were getting, 
set his system to record some of the data, and sat back 
to watch.  After a quick struggle with his conscious, 
he decided to turn on the intercom in Mulder's room, 
just in case.  That should be close enough to give him
a heads-up, in case he was needed.    

That done, he scanned the three monitors as they switched
from building to building, corner to corner, searching the
darkness for signs of life.  Skinner studied one view as the camera
panned the courtyard, sipping his coffee while he watched
moonlit snow and endless ice pass by.  The camera did a full 
pan of the area in front of the main building, then stopped, 
and reversed it's path.  

The connection with the main communications room in the
complex buzzed, then came alive with Katherine's voice.
"Skinner, are you getting this?" 

"Yeah, looks quiet." 

"I think they've moved on." 

As he watched, one camera moved purposefully forward, 
focusing on an area several yards north of the east wing.  

"Look there, we put out some meat, hoping to attract them, 
but so far nothing." 

"They're not stupid." 

Skinner spun around, startled.  "What are you doing up, 
Mulder?"  Stunned by his own lack of observation, he 
set his cup down and glanced at the intercom, still open 
to the hallway upstairs.  

Mulder shrugged, then sat down in one of the chairs.  
He was wearing sweat pants and the shirt Skinner had 
given him.  It was too big, with the sleeves hanging down, 
covering most of his hands and the letters W.  SKINNER 
hanging low on the left side.  Seeing that made Skinner feel 
even more responsible for this man's life, his sanity, and his 
future.  

"You can't bait them.  You can't trap them.  You can't 
outsmart them." 

"Is that Mulder?"  Katherine's voice rang clear over the 
speakers between them.  "Ask him if he knows why 
they aren't feeding." 

Skinner sighed, watching Mulder's face for a moment.  "He
heard you, Katherine." He reached out and handed Mulder 
his coffee cup, then stood and went into the galley, fixing
another cup for himself.

"They won't eat what you put out, they're smarter than that." 
Mulder spoke to the intercom, but his gaze was fixed on 
the screen.  

"Why is that?  Can they smell something wrong with the 
food we put out, is that it?" 

Skinner watched his agent watch the monitors.  It was the 
first time he'd even taken an interest in what they were doing 
about the menace that had killed his people so long ago.  With 
the nightmares, the visions, all the bits and pieces of 
remembered terror, Skinner wondered if it was still too soon
for him to face these demons.  All he could do was wait and see.  
And be here when it happened.  

"They won't eat anything that's dead already." Mulder replied, 
holding his coffee with both hands.  "They're watching." 

Skinner turned to the monitors and searched the grounds.  

"We haven't seen them since early last night, Mulder.  I think 
they've moved on."  Katherine's voice displayed her 
dejection at having run out of  chances to observe this 
new animal.  

"There."  Suddenly he saw it, right where Mulder seemed to 
be staring.  "Up there."  Skinner reached out and moved a dial, 
changing the view from the center grounds to the shadows by
the buildings.  

"Oh my God!"  Katherine gasped, then shouted some excited 
orders to people in the room with her.  

Skinner had to squint through the darkness, but there in shadows, 
surrounding the grounds, were their monsters.  "I'll be damned," 
he breathed.  "They're watching us."  He reached out again to 
move the camera's angle further left, then stopped when Mulder's 
hand clamped down over his forearm.  Silently, they both stared 
at the screens.  The longer Skinner looked, the easier it was to 
see them in the darkness.  He counted no less than forty sentinels 
in the shadows around them.  Mulder's hand gripped even tighter 
as he counted, verging on causing some real pain.  Skinner was 
about to flip the monitors off -- willing as he was to endure the 
grip but not wanting to prolong the reasons for it -- when 
Mulder shifted  his hold.  His fist wrapped around Skinner's 
shirt sleeve, as well  as a good portion of his own sweatshirt 
that had fallen over his palm, and held on.  

"Walter, I count fifty-two." Katherine resumed her dialog 
while muffled voices could be heard in the background, 
counting and exclaiming.  

"There's more than that."  Mulder shook his head.  "They're 
coming and going, going to feed elsewhere, then coming 
back to watch." 

"He's right.  I've seen several vanish into the ice and others
appear to take their place."  Skinner glanced at his agent.  
Aside from a slightly sick look in his eyes and a death grip 
on Skinner's shirt, he seemed to be holding up.  "Has this been
going on all along?"

Mulder nodded.  "You can't see them in the dark.  That's
why it's not safe to go out."

"It's fascinating," the biologist's voice came through clearly.

Skinner sighed, then reached out and turned off the monitors. 
"Katherine, we're turning in."  He didn't wait for a reply before 
switching off the comm unit and setting his cup aside.  He 
didn't think Mulder was ready for her excited, scientific 
commentary.  "Come on, Mulder.  If that's all they're doing
tonight, I've seen enough." 

Mulder shook himself slightly, then released his grip and 
blinked.  "Yeah.  But the cycle should be over."  He set 
down the cup and stood, then ran a hand through his long 
hair.  "They'll be gone when we wake up." 

"Good."  Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and led 
him to the bedroom.  "Then we can get back to where we started." 

He knew that was a lie, and he knew Mulder knew it was a lie.  
But it served them both well enough to get some sleep.  Or at 
least, get into bed.  

He joined Mulder in the bed, as was becoming their custom,
and watched while the younger man nestled into the covers
and was soon asleep.  Skinner sat up for nearly an hour, 
reading the same paragraph of Sir Arthur's story over and 
over again.  He told himself he was really listening for any 
sign his agent was having a nightmare, but after the twelfth 
scan of the same section of 'The Hounds of the Baskervilles,' 
he had to admit he wasn't getting anywhere.  Reluctantly, he 
tossed the book aside and turned off the room lights.  Turning 
off the light was a formality, since they kept a light on in the
outer room.  He shifted in the bed, turning his back to the 
glow the seeped in through the door, then punched his pillow 
into submission and laid down.  

Mulder was sleeping quietly, laying on his back with one
arm thrown over his eyes.  Skinner had grown used to
his nocturnal outbursts, the sharp cries of distress, the sudden
pulling away and curling into a ball, the whimpers of defeat.
But tonight, all was quiet.  

So quiet, he couldn't sleep.  On the left side of the bed, he 
stared at the wall and saw images of the black, deadly 
monsters hidden in the shadows of the compound, just 
sitting there staring back at him.  When he rolled over to the 
right, he couldn't stop imagining Mulder, watching the
entire station die one by one, person by person, until 
he was all alone.  He tried sleeping on his stomach -- 
something he'd never liked -- and found himself plagued with
thoughts of what if.  

What if he could find a way to get Mulder off Nihility, 
and really rescue him from this place?  What if he'd 
known what was waiting here, and could have come 
more prepared to deal with it?  What if there had been
more time and energy in developing a cure for cancer, 
and much less on wars and politics?  

Frustrated by the things he had no control over, 
Skinner rolled back over onto his back and punched
his pillow a few times.  With a heavy sigh, he stared 
up at the ceiling and chewed the inside of his
lower lip.  He knew better than to dwell on things he 
couldn't change.  And he damn well knew better
than to lament his situation without doing something 
about it.  

It was fatigue, that's all.  Had to be.  And being so close
to someone who -- for the first time in his life -- really 
needs him.  In the war, he was constantly paired with a 
unit that needed a scout, a squad the needed a leader, 
even platoons that needed his unique sense of where the
enemy was, what was going to happen next.  But now, 
for the first time in his life, someone needed Walter 
Skinner.  Not for what he could do, or for how much 
he knew -- but for who he was.  

He'd never felt so necessary, or so helpless, in his life.  

"Get a grip, Skinner."  Skinner sighed and pressed both 
fists to his forehead, then opened his hands and let his 
palms slide over his face.  So he couldn't pack Mulder 
up and take him back to the World.  Fine.  He'd just 
have to fix this place and make it safe.  How hard could 
that be?  After all, Mulder had survived here for almost
two years.  They only came out to eat when there was
food.  They must have another source of nutrition then.
They hadn't come back once Mulder was alone. 

If they were what he suspected, something not of this
world, then they were going to have to be eradicated.
He laughed bitterly as he thought of the old television
show of the sixties, and their Prime Directive.  These
visitors from another place certainly had no Prime
Directive -- or if they did, they had no compunction
about breaking it.

They were just going to have to cope.  After all, humans
were infinitely adaptable, according to modern thinking.  
He was sure, now that reality had slapped them in the face, 
these people would get down to business and put all 
that training to work, finding ways to survive.  All Skinner 
had to do was keep an eye on things.  

He sighed heavily again and closed both eyes, forcing his 
body to relax.  In the morning, things would look better.  
They'd have a quiet breakfast, then go up into the complex to 
talk to Peters, then get to work.  

Skinner rolled over, keeping his eyes closed, and found a 
comfortable position on his left side.  Mulder whimpered in
his sleep, and he reached out, draping one arm loosely over
the other man, feeling him still beneath the touch. 

Tomorrow it was time to get Mulder away from the others
for a bit, give him a break from the madness.  Maybe he could
convince him to take the small Snowcat and go out to where
the mobile units had been.  They'd never been able to raise,
the two teams since the night of the first slaughter, and Skinner
was sure they were dead.  They could ride out, see how much 
damage was done to the equipment after days of being left 
unattended.  Maybe once they got out there, he could talk 
Mulder into some exploring of their own, finally see more 
of what the ice was hiding.  It would mean staying out, but if 
the cycle was past, they should be safe enough.  They could 
always stay in the 'cat.  Maybe they could find some hint
of where the creatures went when the ice swallowed them up.  
And just exactly *how* they pulled that little vanishing act
to begin with.

He'd just decided on the next day's events when he heard 
noises coming from the bathroom.  Instantly awake, 
Skinner sat up and was immediately blinded by the 
light in the hallway shining in his eyes. 

"Oh, man."  An entire night had passed in the blink of an eye.  
He hated nights like that! Your body slept, but your mind 
missed out entirely.  

Skinner forced his legs off the bed and planted his bare 
feet firmly on the floor.  He heard the water stop running,
then Mulder was back in the bedroom.  He dressed quietly,
then proceeded toward the galley.  With a sigh, Skinner 
pushed himself off the bed and propelled himself toward the 
door, bounced once off the wall just outside the room, 
then managed to angle into the bathroom.  In the short time 
since he'd called the basement  home, he'd grown accustomed 
to the wet hand print on the wall over the towels, with two
lines of water snaking down to the floor where they mixed 
with usually one, if not two, wet foot prints.  Mulder was
making an effort, but he wasn't the neatest of roommates.  
However, the feeling he got seeing evidence of someone 
else around was comforting.  Even if he did leave steam all 
over the mirror sometimes.  

He took his time in the shower, letting the water massage 
wake him up more completely.  By the time he was finished 
and dressed, he could smell breakfast.  

"We're almost out of coffee."  Mulder poured them each 
a cup, then set the container down and sat at the table, 
joining Skinner.  

"They have a stockpile upstairs; we can get what we 
need from there this morning."  Skinner picked up his fork
and sniffed at the large slices of bacon on his plate, 
enjoying the smell of the crisp meat.  "The monsters.
Is that why there aren't any animals around here, Mulder?  
No chickens, no pets?" 

"I guess."  Mulder shrugged and speared some eggs.  "I don't 
remember." 

Skinner chewed the bacon, taking note of his agent's casual 
attitude.  All of the inner turmoil he'd seen behind those 
hazel eyes this past week was gone.  "Is something different,
Mulder?  Are they gone?" 

"I don't know, exactly.  They vanish, for a while then they 
come back when it's time again." 

He wanted to ask how Mulder knew, but was afraid it would
push his friend too hard.  And he didn't want to break the 
relaxed mood, so he accepted the words at their face value.  
"Well, now that we have a reprieve, there's work to be done."
 Skinner bit off a chunk of toast and reached for his coffee.  
"Both trackers are still out there."

"The people are dead," Mulder said matter-of-factly.

The AD swallowed.  His new friend's mood changes were
hard to fathom sometimes.  But then, these people meant 
nothing to him, and he had tried to warn them.  

"We may have lost the crews, but the equipment needs to 
be found and retrieved." 

Mulder nodded, sipping his coffee.  

"They'll need to send a bigger team to recover the vehicles,
but I thought we could take the 'cat and go inspect the sites." 
Skinner finished another slice of bacon and caught the look 
of surprised confusion on his friend's face.  "It *is* safe now, 
right?"  

He looked expectantly at Skinner.  "The batteries are 
charged, right?"

"Batteries?  What does that have to do with anything?"

"The machines.  They come when the machines are on.
I only ran them for a couple days.  I figured you guys 
were running them longer because there were so many
of you."  His relaxed attitude turned anxious.  "You did
tell me you had the data from here, didn't you?"

Skinner rubbed his forehead, then took his glasses off
and laid them on the table.  His right hand came up and
thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of his nose.  It
was a useless gesture, but familiar and comfortable, and
one he had often used when Mulder baffled him.  "I'm
sorry, Mulder," he said quietly.  "All this time, you
thought we were running the machines, the equipment,
to recharge batteries?"

"Of course.  You can't run them all the time.  It isn't
safe."

"And how often did you have to charge the batteries?"

"Every couple of weeks, for a couple days."

"So when we shut down the generators, and switch to
the batteries, they won't come back?"

"Yeah, they won't come back for a couple weeks."

Skinner sat quietly for a few minutes, lost in thought.
He *had* told Mulder they had the data from the
station.  They had talked about the fact that much
of it was encrypted, but that pertained to historical
records.  Mulder could very well have perceived his
situation as current, not historical.  And he had
repeatedly told them all the station was too hot,
and they were running the equipment too much.
And none of them had thought to pursue it and
find out why.  He might not have remembered
his monsters, but he seemed to be fully aware of
the need to run on batteries, and just assumed
they knew what they were doing.  He shook his head
slowly.  What an incredible screw up in communication.

He took a deep breath.  He'd have to bring Peters
up to speed on this one.  Though having known in
advance wouldn't have made a difference.  Without
being able to tell them *why* it wasn't safe to run
the generators, no one would have listened to Mulder's
concerns anyway.  He looked over at the younger man
who was waiting anxiously for him to speak. 

"OK.  We let Peters know to switch to the batteries.
We watch power consumption and try to conserve where
we can.  And in the meantime, you and I get out of 
here for a while.  Let these people thrash this out
for themselves.  We'll take the 'cat and hit the
snow, see what's out there.  Maybe we can find a
way to stop these creatures once and for all."

Mulder's tone was hesitant, but curious.  "Going out 
in the Snowcat -- we'd be gone a long time."  His voice 
dropped.  "And it's dark all the time now.  We couldn't
get to the sites and still come back to sleep." 

Skinner lifted his cup and sat back, leaning into the chair as 
he gazed at Mulder.  "Yeah.  I had something else in mind." 

Mulder's eyebrows knit together as he listened.  

"Peters and his people are going to deal with the problem 
at hand, and right now, there isn't much you or I can do 
that would help."  He was about to add something about 
Mulder's memory coming back, but he changed his mind 
quickly.  If he'd remembered anything that could help, 
he was sure the younger man would say so.  "And I, for one, 
am tired of being cooped up in this building.  We're not
going to take control of this situation if we can't understand
it." 

"But you can't ... it's not, I mean ..." Mulder stared at him, 
trying to explain something he wasn't finding the words for.  

He knew where that look was heading.  "Mulder, you know
these creatures in a way none of us understand yet.  But you
*do* know.  We'll be safe out there in the dark, believe me.  
You said yourself, they won't be back for another two weeks, 
and you've been here this long and been safe enough." 

"But I ...  Walter."  Mulder's face was furrowed as if he
couldn't believe what he was saying.  "They come *here.*" 
Mulder paused as if he was waiting for Skinner to realize 
something very obvious.  "I don't know where they *go.*" 

Skinner inhaled slowly, finally understanding another 
aspect of what had kept Mulder at the complex for
so long.  He leaned forward and set the cup down.  "Mulder, 
it's not so much where, but when."  He moved the empty 
plate so he could rest both arms on the table.  "You 
understand how their cycle works.  They come when
the machinery runs.  Well, we'll run off batteries, and
carry extras.  We'll be OK." 

Mulder didn't look convinced, but he was listening.  

"Look, two weeks is a long time.  We could travel for miles
in any direction, and still be back before they come again.  If
their cycle has to do with feeding, and they don't come here,
then they won't come out there, either."  His agent's head was 
shaking slowly, and the fingers of one hand started pressing 
out a pattern on the table.  He looked like a young boy who
was just told that the monster under his bed was a foolish
notion, not to be believed.  Skinner knew he must be going 
about this badly.   "Mulder, I realize this is all just theory, 
but..." 

"No."  He looked up.  "The others said that too, and they went 
out."  His head shook once, then his gaze dropped back to 
the pattern he was pressing into the table.  "They never came 
back." 

God, it was like putting together a puzzle with a million 
pieces, while they were being painted.  "They sent a 
group out to explore?  Do you remember anything about it?" 

"No."  The pattern grew more intricate, leaving slight marks
of contact on the metal surface for an instant.  

"Then you don't know if they went out during the cycle.  Or 
if they stayed away too long, and couldn't get back in time.
Or if they ran off the engines instead of the batteries."  He 
watched the fingers slowly stop their motion, then waited 
for the eyes to come back to his level.  Finally, Mulder 
shrugged.  

"How long would we be out there?" 

Progress.  "I figure just a few days, maybe five.  The 'cat's 
big enough to sleep in, if you don't mind cramming up 
against the equipment."  Skinner stood and began to clear the 
table.   "Or we could take a couple of the experimental
heat-shield habitats."

Mulder opened his mouth to say something, but the intercom 
buzz interrupted him.  

"Skinner, it's Peters.  Do you have a minute this morning?"

"Frank, I've just learned something new.  The animals 
are drawn here when the generators run.  Mulder only 
ran them every couple weeks to recharge the batteries.
Switch the station to battery power, and they won't be
back until it's time to recharge."

"Is he sure?"

Skinner cast a glance over at his agent, shoulders
hunched as he leaned over the table.  He shrugged.

"Yes, he's sure."

"Good.  We need to go over some details so I can get a 
team out to  recover those trackers." 

"You read my mind, Peters.  Give me a minute."  Skinner 
flipped off the speaker and stuffed the dishes into the basin, 
then turned to Mulder.  "Do me a favor and get enough supplies 
together for five days.  OK, Mulder?  I'll explain things to 
Peters so he can get teams started out there to bring those 
trackers back, then we'll get going." 

Mulder took a deep breath and pushed a few strands of hair 
from his face.  "Yeah, OK.  Do you want me to load the 
Snowcat?" 

Skinner's thoughts instantly flashed to the earlier 
confrontation with McMurray.  He quickly reviewed
the faces he'd seen there, then compared them to people 
Mulder would likely run into between here and the vehicle
bay at the at the opposite end of the complex.  "It's the last
one, at the far end."  Mulder nodded, then turned and headed 
for his room.  Skinner stood in the galley for a moment, 
wondering if he knew what he was doing.  Mulder was a 
grown man, and he certainly had no right to keep him
isolated.  But he was a grown man who had no practical 
experience around hostile people.  At least, not that he 
knew of.  

He shook himself out of his thoughts and hurried up the stairs.  
The chances of something happening were slim, really.  McMurray 
was most likely being put to work in the complex even as he 
was rushing over to meet with Peters.  None of the others had 
shown any real hostile attitudes toward Mulder.  At least the 
majority of them were mature enough to realize the man had 
nothing at all to do with what happened at Nihility.  He was 
a victim himself, after all.  Besides, the Mulder he knew was
perfectly capable of handling himself when pushed, and he 
suspected this Mulder was too.  

***********************************************

Further thoughts on that subject were curtailed when he 
entered Peters' office.  The room was empty, except for 
the colonel who was just finishing a conversation over 
his intercom.  

"Skinner, have a seat." Peters waved to one of the chairs 
beside his desk.  "I've got a team that's willing to head 
out and retrieve the trackers.  We're working up a plan 
that will allow further exploration in safety, building some 
kind of mobile shelter." 

Skinner nodded, letting his mind drift over the many 
possibilities.  "There are a couple of ways to handle it.  
I guess it will all depend on how much exploration you 
want to achieve now, and how easily these animals 
will be to shelter from."  He paused, then stared at the 
colonel.  "You came prepared to stay.  All of you.  *I*
didn't, and neither did my agent.  When the hell can we
expect to get out of here?"

Peters flushed, looking down.  "I'm really sorry about 
that, Walter.  What we're doing is so classified, there isn't
even a classification for it.  You should never have come
along.  If the Director hadn't pushed ..."

"I understand all that.  And frankly, with Mulder's memories
coming back, even if it is just fleeting images, I think some
time away from his real world responsibilities and the
pressure to remember and recognize is a good thing.  His
partner would have been the perfect person to be here with
him through this, but ..."  It was his turn to let the thought 
trail off, unfinished.

"I know, I know.  Clearance.  It's a bitch.  You only got 
through in time because you'd been cleared before, when you
were in service."

"Yeah, well.  I'm here.  For better or worse, he's stuck 
with me, and I'm not going to let anyone hurt him any more
than he's been hurt.  That man has been through enough
in his life -- it's time someone looked out for him."  He 
drew a deep breath, then looked at Peters.  "So, when 
do we get to go home?"

"We should be able to get a comm frequency when the 
sun comes up again.  Until then, we're blacked out.
We don't exist.  We can't be seen, can't be picked up on
radar, can't be heard.  We're in the black hole of 
inaccessibility."

"All right, six months."  Skinner walked to the
wall, staring out the big window, watching the snow
swirl as the wind lifted it and tossed it around.  The
sky was a velvet blanket overhead, stars glittering in
its inky blackness.  It was easy to forget how *dark*
the night was, when you lived in a city.  "We can
do six months."  He turned back to Peters.  "We'll
do recon for you, then you can send the retrieval teams
out when we get back.  It shouldn't be a problem."

"Yes, yes.  I'm not too worried at this point."  Peters 
agreed.  "There's time now to work up the best plan.  
Of course, we want to continue to explore as much of 
this area as we possibly can.  Especially now.  Now we
know what we're looking for.  Granted, we've had 
tragedies, with fourteen dead." 

"The two teams that were out are dead too, according
to Mulder."

"That figure includes them."  Peters paused, shaking 
his head sadly.  "Tragedy.  And Mulder.  I tell you, 
Skinner, I thank God you stopped us from trying to 
force his memories back.  I know --"  He held up a 
hand as he continued.  "I know it might have saved us 
some lives.  But it might not have.  We'll never know 
what could have been done, but one thing I'm sure of 
now is how painful those memories must be.  Now that 
I understand what it was he survived." 

"None of us can understand what he went through.
We know what he survived since he's been here.  We
still don't know what was done to him before he was
left here, without his memory.   Forcing him to 
remember..."  Skinner had to force his jaw to relax.  
"It wouldn't have helped, believe me.  What he's getting 
now is just images, flashes of things he saw.  I doubt 
anyone could have made sense out of it before now.  He
can hardly make sense out of it himself." 

"No one was willing to cross you in order to try."  Peters' grin 
was genuine.  "Listen, that's all past now, good or bad.  
My people are ready to get down to business.  This is what 
they've been trained for, and frankly, they're looking forward 
to the challenge." 

"That's certainly a change of attitude from a week ago." 

"Yes.  We've had a week to adjust, and get over our shock.  
Now's the time to get busy.  We're scientists, remember.  
We may work for the military," he grinned again, "but most
of us are scientists first.  Finding ways for humans to 
survive what is happening here, that's what we came 
here to do.  We *will* survive this." 

"I'm glad to hear that."  Even if it was a surprise.  "But I 
can't help wondering if that's what Mulder's group 
thought at first." 

"Possibly," Peters admitted.  "But they didn't have us." 

Skinner laughed shortly, then nodded.  This attitude 
was quite a change, but as long as it held up, he was 
willing to accept it.  "I'm taking Mulder out to check 
over the trackers, then do some exploring of our
own.  We'll secure the camps for the retrieval teams,
then we're going to have a look further north." 

"You're taking the small 'cat?" 

"We should be back in a week.  I'll be recording the area; 
we might be able to find a good place to set up a shelter
in those mountains." 

Peters nodded thoughtfully.  "Good idea.  You know, it 
seems that all we need to keep those creatures at bay is a 
good solid shelter and bright, white light.  And if we don't
run the generators any more than we have to, we should be
able to figure out a way to contain them, study them, and
then we can decide what to do with them.  If we could find 
some caves, we could use the natural rock walls and save 
ourselves quite a lot of construction." 

"It's worth a look," Skinner agreed.  "I'll check in with you 
later, Peters.  Your teams will get the coordinates before we 
leave." 

"Fine.  Oh, listen, Walter ... how's Mulder doing?  This 
past week, the more I studied those things, thinking about 
him, abandoned here, watching everyone be ... Well, I don't 
think I could have handled it myself, had I been him." 

Skinner sighed.  He reached up and rubbed his forehead 
with an index finger while contemplating the corner of 
Peters' desk.  "It's not easy.  You can see it in his face, 
when he's recalling something.  Maybe it wouldn't be so 
bad if they were clear memories, but they're just flashes." 
He shook his head and had to exert some effort to hide the 
sense of helplessness he was feeling.  It didn't feel right, 
confiding in the colonel just how frightened he was 
that any minute he was going to do something terribly
wrong, and damage Mulder forever.  "I've seen this too 
many times before, Frank.  I've seen good men go mad 
from the images coming back." 

Peters nodded.  "Yes, I've read about some of them.  Tragic.  
But that's precisely what's going to keep you from making 
the same mistake with Mulder.  You saved him from us 
once already; I'm sure he has nothing to fear from you." 

Surprised, Skinner looked up, meeting the colonel's gaze.  

"Walter, it's written all over your face, what there is to see." 
Peters smiled and leaned back in his chair.  "I may be old 
and naive about some things, having spent my life on one 
very single-minded pursuit, but I think I know you about 
as well as anyone can.  Believe me, you've got the brains 
and instinct to know what's right, and to get it done.  You'll 
be fine.  You both will." 

With a resigned sigh, Skinner stood.  "I'll contact you when 
we get to the first vehicle." 

"Fine.  Have a good trip." 

"Thanks."  Skinner left the office, shutting the door behind him.  
He'd only known the scientist-colonel a few weeks, but in that 
time he'd proven himself a constant source of surprises, both 
good and bad.  This morning, Skinner was willing to accept 
this show of encouragement for what it was worth.  

******************************************

Bolstered by the compliment, he made his way through the 
complex to the large, ever-busy kitchens to procure a new 
stash of coffee, then headed down to the supply buildings 
for some gear and recording instruments they'd need.  After 
seeing the two ground crews assigned to retrieval duty and
giving them the coordinates, he headed over to the vehicle
bay and found their Snowcat.  Skinner climbed aboard to 
stow the gear and found the vehicle stocked and ready, 
with bedding, food, and spare clothes packed neatly away 
in the small cargo section.  

"Hey, you've been busy." 

Mulder turned from his chore of strapping down a bag 
and nodded at Skinner's arm load.  "Good, you brought 
coffee.  I was going to ask you to pick some up." He 
reached out and took the package, as well as the 
equipment.  "There's still room." 

Skinner glanced around the neatly packed cabin and 
whistled his appreciation.  "Good packing job, Mulder.  
I couldn't have done better myself." 

"I've distributed the weight evenly, and it's all secured.  
Tom said that would be the most important thing." 

"Hinton?  Is Tom here?"  Skinner glanced out the window 
of the 'cat and looked for the vehicle quartermaster.    

"He was.  I think he had to check number three's battery 
pack or something."  Mulder shrugged.  "There's room for 
your clothes still, over there."  He pointed to a section on 
the left, behind the driver's seat.  

"Great, I'll go throw some together and we can get moving." 
Skinner mentally made a note, adding Tom Hinton to the 
small but growing list of people Mulder was comfortable 
around.  "Better not let Tom find out how good you are, 
he'll want you for his crew." 

"Are you worried?"  Mulder grinned, glancing over his 
shoulder at his friend.  

Skinner laughed shortly, then shook his head.  Mulder's 
sense of humor was something he'd hoped would return 
quickly.  Thank God he hadn't had long to wait.  "Yeah, 
maybe I am." 

With a shake of his head, Skinner left the Snowcat and hurried
back across the compound and down to the basement.  He
packed enough clothes for five days, locked up their quarters,
then added his pack to the cargo.  When everything was 
secured, they received clearance and some directing out of 
the bay from Tom, then rolled slowly across the ice and
were on their way.  

Mulder watched Skinner handling the machine expertly,
noting the coordinated foot movements, and the more
complicated gear shifting.  "Do I know how to drive?"

Skinner laughed.  "Well, supposedly, you do," he said
teasingly.  "I sometimes wonder when I keep getting
paperwork on another vehicle you've lost or wrecked."
He explained the differences in technique and skill to 
Mulder, comparing the Snowcat to a car, and talking
of the differences, advantages and disadvantages of
both. 

Skinner kept one eye on the icy plain, and one on his agent.  
He was pleased to note a complete lack of fear in Mulder for 
being out of the compound and moving so smoothly over the
snow.  The first tracker was another six hours ahead.  They'd 
sleep there, then move north to the second location.  
After that were the mountains Skinner wanted a closer look
at.  If there were caves sufficient to hold a good-sized 
population and equipment, they might be a option for 
protection from the creatures.  They seemed to move through 
the snow and ice, miles deep here at the Pole.  But perhaps 
they wouldn't be so mobile in pure rock.   

"I think we're here."  Mulder pointed to the a scene out the 
window.  

"I think you're right."  The tracker could be seen in a clearing 
below them, quiet and alone.  Skinner began maneuvering
them in near the larger vehicle. "I'll have to teach you to drive 
this thing." 

"I think I'll leave that up to the pros."  Mulder shook his 
head while the engines powered down.  "I gotta pee." He 
unbuckled the safety harness and worked his way through 
the cargo section to the door.  

Skinner chuckled, unbuckling his own harness, then followed
Mulder outside.  The tracker sat in a clearing a few yards 
away, quiet and undisturbed.  Beside it were empty cases that 
had carried food and cooking utensils, and a few scattered 
instruments littering the area.  Aside from that, there was no
evidence of the team, or what killed them.  

"It's just like at the complex." Skinner shook his head slowly
as Mulder approached.  "No blood, no clothes, nothing." 

Mulder paused for a moment beside him, gazing at the 
scene, then shrugged and walked to the tracker.  "They 
would have been safe inside." 

His agent's tone made Skinner turn around, eyebrows 
creasing as he watched Mulder climb into the undisturbed 
vehicle.  

"Nothing's been touched in here; they had the door shut." 
Mulder went further inside the large tracker, glancing 
around, then looked back at Skinner through a large window 
and shrugged his shoulders casually.  "I told them to sleep 
inside at night."  He turned back to his inspection.  "They 
can't open doors."

"But you lock the doors.   Hell, you barricade the doors."

"The can twist them out of the frame, but they can't seem 
to just open them."  

Skinner swallowed hard.  There was a twinge in his gut, 
and he shook it off.  What had he expected, after all?  Mulder
had seen enough death to last a lifetime; none of these people 
meant anything to him.  They'd died a week ago, and far 
enough away not to have been seen or heard.  He chastised
himself for having had a preconceived notion about how 
Mulder should behave, and stepped into the tracker to have 
a look around.  

The instruments and equipment were perfectly intact and 
right where they should be.  Skinner even fired up the engines 
and found them in working order.  After a call to the complex 
to update Peters -- he'd have to probe that situation a little more.
Why could they communicate from the base to here, but not 
get a call out to the Real World? -- Skinner began setting 
up their habitat.  They could have cooked in the 'cat, but
space was already at a premium and it gave him an excuse
to try out the experimental units.  As he used the small 
cooking stove, Mulder's mood began to change.  

"We could sleep in the tracker, it's got more room."  Skinner 
shut the unit down, and checked the controls on the shelter.  
"It's designed to sleep four." 

"I'd rather sleep in the 'cat."  Mulder was fidgeting, his hand 
running through long strands of hair that hadn't even been 
in his face.  He shook his head once, staring at the snow 
through the bottom of the transparent floor of the habitat.  

Skinner checked the cooking unit to make sure it was sufficiently
cooled, then watched the display on the heat-shield.  Designed
to hold and expand on body heat, it was a transparent box-like 
shelter, this one designed to hold four to six people.  It held the
heat inside, yet presented a cool surface to the outside, defeating
anyone who was using a heat sensor to track with.  It was still
experimental, and while it worked well, it wouldn't hold a charge
past four hours, making even Skinner uncomfortable with the
thought of sleeping in it.  Ever since landing, his agent had been
calm, verging on the edge of cold, about what they'd found and 
what they knew had happened.  He'd even casually explained 
how he remembered the creatures couldn't open doors.  
Without understanding why he knew, he recalled them being 
smart enough, but never mastering the simple connection 
between the door and what was inside.  

But now it was time to sleep, time to let their guard down and 
trust to the safety of the machines, and Mulder was a nervous 
wreck once again.  

"OK, if you can stand the close quarters, I don't mind." 

Skinner gave in and followed Mulder back into the Snowcat.
He couldn't push too hard, not this soon.  With the memories 
coming back, such as they were, he was painfully aware how 
delicate Mulder's mental state could be.  Too many good
soldiers - no -- men.  They were men, dammit! Too many 
good men were lost during the war, thanks to the foolish 
attempts by thoughtless doctors and specialists going overboard 
in their aggressive therapies.  Skinner was not going to 
let that happen again, not after...  

"Walter?" 

Startled out of his thoughts, Skinner blinked.  "What?  
Oh, thanks."  He reached out and accepted the bed roll 
Mulder was handing him, then spread it out on the floor.  

"Are you OK?" 

"Yeah."  He nodded, then tossed a blanket down over
the padding before pulling off his parka.  "I'm just 
tired, didn't sleep well last night." 

Mulder sat down on his makeshift bed and took off his 
own parka, stuffing his boots into a corner.  "Did you 
know these people?" 

Skinner picked his boots up off the floor and looked 
at Mulder, trying to catch up.  He'd just been getting
used to his agent's ability to change the subject on a 
dime when all hell had broken loose.  Now he had to 
get back into the routine.  "I knew who they were, that's 
about it.  We traveled together for a day getting down
here.  That's not really enough time to get to know
people." 

Mulder shifted around so he could lean back against 
the driver's seat and face Skinner.  With the toes of
one foot, he hooked the corner of his blanket and pulled
it close enough to grab, then draped it over his lap.  

"When's the last time you were outside in the dark?"  Skinner 
kept his voice casual, sitting down as he spoke, and unfolded 
his blanket.  

"I don't remember."  Mulder shrugged, undaunted by the 
countering question.  

"But you do remember it's safe outside, as long as the 
the generators aren't going?" 

If Skinner hadn't been watching, he would have missed
the sudden constriction of Mulder's eyes and the quick 
intake of breath.  

"I don't -- it's ..."  Mulder stopped struggling for words 
and inhaled, closing both eyes tightly for an instant.  
When he continued, he was staring at a fixed position 
somewhere between the floor and infinity.  "I remember ...
I remember thinking, the dark would kill me.  The timers
were set to lock everything down at solstice.  I was always 
afraid if I went out, I wouldn't be able to get back in." 
He paused, swallowing.  "Then you came -- all of you -- and 
you weren't afraid of the dark.  I mean -- you were looking
forward to it." 

Skinner's teeth ground together as his jaw clamped down.  
He hadn't meant to start anything neither he nor Mulder 
were going to be prepared to handle, but he couldn't stop it 
now, either.  He could only pray that if the man was about to 
take a demon out to look at, they'd both know what to do 
with it.  

"And now that I understand again, I just -- I can't just stop." 
Mulder focused again and met Skinner's gaze.  "I know it's 
not the dark that kills.  But even knowing, I can't ... I can't
get past it.  I just can't." 

Changeable hazel eyes shifted as the emotions grew stronger, 
and Skinner watched as soft green moved to a  deep, helpless 
gray.  He swallowed, forcing his teeth apart.  "I understand, 
Mulder.  Believe me.  Now that you know the truth about 
what happens, and what you did to keep alive, maybe I can 
help you get past it sometime." 

Mulder's gaze dropped to the floor as he nodded.  "Yeah, 
maybe.  But not now, OK?" 

"Not now."  He moved around on the mattress and found 
a comfortable spot, then made room for Mulder in the small 
cargo area beside him.  

After he got situated, Mulder pulled his blanket over himself 
and stared at the ceiling.  "Is that what the war did to people 
who fought?  Made them so understanding about other people's 
phobias?" 

Skinner laughed shortly.  "The war turned almost everyone 
into cold, unfeeling bastards with huge chips on their shoulders 
and egos to match."  He reached up and flipped off the lights.  

"You just got lucky."

*************************************************

The small vehicle darkened immediately, but with moon
and stars visible through the window, there was a slight
illumination inside and out.  It didn't take long for 
Skinner's vision to adjust, giving him a muted view 
of the ceiling as he lay on his back, staring up at it.  
The cargo area was nicely flat on the bottom, but not
too wide, giving both sleepers enough room to lie flat 
with barely an inch between them.  Never one to fall 
immediately asleep, Skinner let his mind wander over 
the day's events as he listened to his agent's breathing 
beside him on the floor.  

Mulder was curled up on his side, facing the wall, 
with the blanket pulled up over his shoulder.  The 
battery-generated heater put out enough warmth to 
keep them comfortable and Skinner closed his 
eyes and mentally made a note not to roll over 
without waking up slightly first.  His friend had 
changed dramatically from the terrified man in the 
basement that first night, hyperventilating at the mere
presence of another person, but he was pretty sure
having someone roll over and drape an arm over him 
in the middle of the night was going to be a bit much.  

Sometime during the night, Skinner woke up when 
his mental alarm told him it was time to roll over.  He
felt a slight pressure against his right arm and shoulder, 
and when he glanced over, found Mulder sleeping 
soundly on his left side, with both hands resting against 
Skinner's arm.  The man had his face pressed into the 
sleeping mat, inches away from Skinner's right shoulder.  
Skinner moved slightly, starting to roll away, and
Mulder made a noise, a sub-vocal mew of complaint.  
With a sigh, Skinner shifted his weight cautiously, easing 
the pressure off one hip.  This show of trust was well 
worth the kink in his back he risked getting by remaining 
in that position.  

When they woke, they made a find that chased away all
thought of stiff muscles.  Three hours after leaving the 
tracker and rolling smoothly in the direction of the 
second team, they found a swarm of creatures Skinner
had never seen before.  In fact, he was hardly sure they
were creatures.  They looked like beach balls, round
and brightly colored, and they rolled across the snow
in a playful back and forth dance, bumping one another
and veering off only to roll back into the larger pack.  
There were balls of all sizes from the small ones about
the size of a softball, to large ones that not only looked
like beach balls, but were that size as well.  Skinner
stopped the vehicle in complete awe, rapidly turning on 
the camera on the Snowcat's roof, and starting the 
recorder.  

"Jesus!" he breathed.  "What the hell are they?" 

"Turn the 'cat off," Mulder begged, one hand coming out
to grasp Skinner's arm.  "Please, shut it down."  His face was
pale, drained of all blood, and the hand that gripped Skinner
shook.  

Skinner reached out, hit the key and the vehicle rumbled to 
a stop.  "Mulder?" he asked.  The man was unmoving,
his eyes locked onto the playful rolling spheres that 
cavorted in the snow before them.  He reached out
and grabbed the younger man, forcing his eyes to 
meet his own.  "Breathe, Mulder, breathe!"  He
deliberately blew into Mulder's face, and shook him
gently, finally taking a breath of his own when Mulder
gasped, and then drew another shuddery breath.

"What the hell is it, Mulder?" he asked, still
holding his agent in a tight grip and keeping him
focused only on him.  "What's frightened you?"

"They're here," he whispered.  "They're here."

"Who's here?  Are you remembering something?  Do you
know what these things are?"

Mulder nodded, growing even more impossibly pale,
almost transparent now.  "They're food."

"Food?"

Mulder nodded.  "They eat them, when they can't get us.
But we're here now, and they'll come, and there won't 
be anything left."

"We need to get out of here."  Skinner moved to start the
'cat again, but Mulder threw himself in the way.

"They'll come to the engine.  It's warm.  The 
heat -- the sound ..."  He pulled away from Skinner
backing into the far corner of the vehicle's cab.

Just then something black rose out of the ice, and landed
on one of the balls.  There was a high-pitched scream
from outside, echoed inside, and Mulder began to tug at
the door handle, pushing it .  "Have.  To get.  Away,"
he mumbled as he started to exit the 'cat.  Skinner threw
himself across the seats, pulling the door shut again, and
pinning Mulder beneath him.  The younger man kicked
hysterically for a moment, and Skinner took a hard 
knock to the face from a flailing arm, but the resistance
was surprisingly short-lived, and within half a minute,
Mulder lay still and unmoving beneath him.  

"You said they can't open doors, Mulder.  They can't
open the doors.  I've locked it up, Mulder.  Mulder,
it's locked.  They can't get in.  Everything is locked."
He was speaking frantically as he dragged the man 
between the seats, laying him out in the cargo area, 
and wrapping him in blankets.  He was unresponsive.

He straddled the man on the floor, rubbing his hands
up and down his arms and over his chest, trying to
restore the heat that seemed to have been sucked
from the man's body.  As he worked, he spoke softly,
murmuring reassurances and talking of things they 
would do when they got home.  He kept his attention
focused on Mulder, but looked up occasionally when
a shriek would draw his attention, watching as the
dark creatures captured and then consumed the brightly
colored balls.  They ate voraciously, and yet there was
a delicacy to their movements, and he was shocked to
see a large one tear one of the balls into pieces, and 
pass the pieces to several of the small creatures.  Once
sated, they sank back into the ice, disappearing as 
completely as if they had never been there.  

They never came near the vehicle.

"They're gone, Mulder, it's OK now, they're gone."

Beneath him, the man began to stir. 

"Gone?"

"Yeah, they went back into the ice."

Mulder's eyes opened and he looked up incredulously.
"You're here?  You're still here?"

"Of course, I'm here," Skinner muttered as he climbed 
off his perch on Mulder's chest and settled on the floor
beside him.  "I told you I'm not going anywhere."

"They came for the food."

"Yeah."  Skinner shuddered unconsciously, and looked 
out over the empty ice where laughing balls of color had
played only minutes before.  "Do you have any idea what
those round things are?  Or where they came from?"

"They're food."  Mulder shrugged and reached up to
push his hair back from his face.  "They come from 
wherever the other things came from."  He paused a 
moment, then looked at Skinner's face more closely.
One hand reached out to touch his cheek.  "You're
hurt."

Skinner grinned, then touched the cheek himself.  "You
clouted me when you were trying to get out of the 
'cat."  

"I tried to get out?"  Mulder shuddered.  "What was I
thinking?"

"You weren't thinking.  You were just trying to survive."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully.  "I guess you saved me
again, then."

There was no answer to that, so Skinner remained quiet.

"I suppose you still want to go on, to go on to the
mountains?"  

Skinner could see the effort it was taking for Mulder
to speak.

"I'd like to, yes, if you think you're up to it."

The younger man pulled himself up to sit beside him,
then straightened his shoulders.  "I guess we have to
get to know the situation if we're going to control the
situation, right?"

Skinner smiled.  "Exactly."

*************************************************

The scene at the second vehicle was nearly identical to the first.  
There were temporary habitats set up, and a few scattered bits 
of equipment remained inside and around them. The tracker 
itself had been locked up and undisturbed.  Mulder examined 
the vehicle while Skinner called the location in to Peters.  They
spoke for a few moments, discussing the slaughter of the round
creatures, and then when Mulder came back, Skinner ended the
conversation hurriedly, not wanting to upset his agent again.   

They ate while studying the logs and maps the team had 
recorded.   Skinner intended to continue their trip nearer 
to the mountains visible in the distance, mapping out the
area for the first time.  They were already farther away from 
the complex than Mulder had ever been.  It made the younger
man extremely nervous, but he seemed willing to continue,
if only to please his protector.  Skinner neglected to 
mention his search for adequate caves, fearing any discussion 
of setting up a shelter or habitat away from the compound
would trigger another black mood.  His search would be
casual, and even cautious, since they still knew so little 
about the black ice monsters, or where they went during
when they weren't feeding.  It wouldn't do to set up a 
shelter right next door to the very thing they were seeking 
shelter from.  

When bedtime rolled around,  they once again retired to 
the cargo area of the 'cat, wrapping up in the thermal 
bedrolls.  This time, Skinner hadn't even fallen asleep 
before he felt Mulder roll over and lean into his side.  
Unwilling to interrupt this kind of trust, he got comfortable 
where he was, and managed a good night's sleep without 
rolling over onto the man.  

In the morning, Mulder made breakfast while 
Skinner secured the tracker for the second team.  "I know
you probably don't understand this, Mulder, but I feel
better out here.  More secure."  He stared up at the 
canopy of stars overhead, the ubiquitous night sky of
the South Pole at that time of year.    

Mulder glanced up at the sky, then looked at Skinner. 
"What do you mean?" 

"This."  Skinner waved an arm to indicate the area.  
"I don't trust that group back at the station.  I mean, 
I think some of them are OK, but I'm still not clear 
where everyone's loyalties are.  Out here, I don't 
have to watch my back as much."  He looked over
at the younger man.  "Or yours."  He gave a deep sigh,
something half-way between frustration and contentment.
"It's strangely freeing." 

With a shrug, Mulder began to poke at the snow with
the toe of his boot.  "If you mean free as in trapped here,
yeah." 

Skinner watched his agent push at some ice.  From 
Mulder's position, he would feel trapped, unable to
remember his past, locked away at Nihility, always
running for his life.  And no promise, no way to know
that it was every going to end.  It was something 
Skinner had given little thought to.  He'd just assumed
Mulder knew that when they could, they would leave. 
They would just have to stay alive until someone came
for the research team, or until Scully found them and
organized their release.  But Mulder had no way of
knowing these things.  

"Mulder, we're getting out of here.  You know that,
don't you?" 

Mulder stopped poking at the snow, and bent, hard-packing
a snowball.  "What will I do then, out there?"  He tossed
the snowball in a gesture that encompassed 'out there,'
and began to make another one.  "Would you leave me?" 

Skinner sighed and leaned forward, considering the 
question.  "I didn't come here with the intention of 
staying.  I didn't come with the intention of leaving 
you, either..." 

"But if you could?" 

"No."  Skinner's eyes grew hard, and he pulled Mulder
up to his feet.  "I won't leave you.  Not here, and not
there."  He shrugged and let the younger man go, then
brushed snow from his.  "There are people out there
who care for you, Mulder.  Scully.  Your mother.  Your
friends.  You're not going to be alone."  

"I don't know them.  I *know* you now."

"You'll remember.  It'll come back to you."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll be there, as long as it takes.  I'll teach you,
show you what you need to know.  I'll help you get
your life back."

Mulder looked up, eyebrows creased.  "You'd do that?  
Be with me like that?" 

"Sure, why not?  Mulder, you're not a burden, you know.
You're an interesting person, funny and smart.  Being with
you is not some godawful chore, you know."   Skinner 
grinned, then nodded toward the 'cat before Mulder
could reply.  "Come on, let's get going.  I'm ready to see
what else we can find while we're out here." 

*********************************************

Several hours and one stop later, they were approaching 
the foothills of huge, craggy mountains, permanently 
covered in ice and snow.  

"Are the recorders on?" 

"Yeah." Mulder looked out at the approaching hills, 
scanning the landscape as they rumbled ahead.  "I've
seen images of these mountains, real close up."

"These mountains don't appear on any of the maps Peters'
group brought down here.  Not on anything aerial or
satellite, or even from an expedition."

Mulder shrugged.  "The other people had maps of them
And pictures."  He cast a sideways glance at the other man.
"But I've never been here." 

Skinner glanced at his friend, then back outside, and 
smiled.  "There's a whole world you don't remember 
seeing, Mulder.  How can you not want to go back?" 

Mulder shrugged, but his gaze never strayed from 
the view.  "I stopped caring before." 

Before?  Maybe there was hope for the man after all.  
Skinner hated to see the depression steal over his 
friend again, and he changed the subject. 

"Check that out, over to your left."  Skinner pointed to 
a plateau of ice, with what would have been a perfect
ski trail running down to another plateau below.  

Mulder adjusted one of the cameras, then pointed to 
the video display.  "There's a big cave there, inside 
the mountain." 

"Great.  Let's check it out."  Skinner adjusted their 
direction and studied the slope.  "I think we can make
it up in this thing.  We can do a little exploring then 
spend the night there." 

"What about..."  Mulder looked up from the instrument.  
"Walter, what if they ... I mean, what if they live in the 
caves?" 

"Flip that switch to the right, the top one."  Skinner pointed to
a separate unit, one he had brought for just this occasion.  
Mulder did as he was told, and the screen changed, showing 
a hazy grey field, like snow on a TV screen.  "That's a 
thermal scan.  See there, nothing out at all." 

Mulder studied the screen, then adjusted some knobs to 
change the gain.  

"Trust me, Mulder.  I've thought about it, too.  They have 
to go somewhere."  Skinner readied the 'cat for the ascent,

hoping his assessment of the vehicles abilities was correct.
The motor whined a little, but they began to climb.  "But 
they're not here." 

Nodding, Mulder turned off the scan.  "I used to think they 
lived in hell.  Then I realized this *was* hell."  He ran a 
hand through long, dark hair and shook his head slowly.  
"It's pretty easy to convince yourself they don't exist at all." 

"Yeah, I bet it was."  The Snowcat leveled out as they 
reached the plateau, and Skinner powered it down, then
scanned the area through the windshield.  "Well, what 
do you think?" 

Mulder nodded, then unhooked his harness and opened his
door into the outside. 

The air was crisp and clean, and just a bit colder, if that was
possible.  Snow covered everything, and as the wind blew, 
it lifted and danced before them.  In front of them, carved 
out of the mountain itself, was a gaping maw of rock, opening
up into a cavern of immense proportions.  Taking a powerful 
lantern, Skinner began his exploration, and found he had a 
human shadow as Mulder remained as close as possible 
during the journey around the cave.  Even after proving 
with scans and visual confirmation that the cave held nothing 
alive except them.  Skinner abandoned any ideas of asking
Mulder if he felt brave enough to try out one of the habitats 
and sleep in the cave that night.  

They explored, then set the heating unit up in the shelter, 
building a 'fire' for dinner.  Skinner noticed that Mulder 
began to grow anxious right at the twelve hour mark, and 
he wondered if that was something instilled in him, or 
more of his preternatural sense when it came to the 
creatures and their movements.  To his credit, Mulder 
didn't flee for the safety of the 'cat until the twelve hours 
was complete.  That night, while letting his mind begin 
the relaxation steps needed for sleep, Skinner considered 
the cave's potential.  He concluded that it would serve 
well enough for a shelter, if the opening could be adequately 
sealed and the temperature could be brought up to 
habitable levels.  And if they could prove that the
creatures couldn't move through rock as they did through 
ice and snow.  He sighed softly, and Mulder moved, pressing
tight against him, one arm reaching out to drape gently
across Skinner's chest.  The older man looked down and
sighed again, pushed the long hair back from his friend's face,
and mumbled, "What am I going to do with you, Mulder?"
before giving in to sleep himself.

******************************************

The next day they followed the plateau along the base of the 
mountains, heading back in the general direction of 
Nihility.  Every time Skinner thought of the station's
name, it made him smile.  Mulder might not consciously
remember his previous life, but to name the station 
Nihility, he had to remember *something.*  They 
stopped three more times to explore caves, leaving the
'cat only after Mulder had done a thermal scan of the 
openings.  Inside each, he never strayed more than
three feet from Skinner's side, even though he 
appeared to be getting more and more comfortable with
the idea.  

In deference to the unending night, and to Mulder's
internal clock, Skinner had begun to think in terms of
hours, instead of days.  It made more sense to adopt a
military time clock anyway, with no sun to mark the
passing of day into night.  So it was around the eighth
hour, five days after leaving, they rumbled back into 
the compound, having made a wide, half-circle out
to the sites and by the mountains.  They took the maps
and scans to Peters and Skinner made copies for himself,
to study later, and found the colonel brimming with 
enthusiasm.  

"Skinner, glad to have you back.  Mulder, I hope you 
enjoyed exploring in person for a change."  Peters
waved at them from the hallway, beckoning them to 
join him in one of the labs.  

"We brought some maps back, and some of the samples 
we found collected in the trackers."  Skinner put a 
hand at the small of Mulder's back and gave him a 
gentle push, directing him to follow the colonel.  

"Excellent!  My teams are ready to follow in your 
footsteps, so to speak, and head out to actually bring
the trackers back.  And we've been pretty busy
around here, too."  Peters led them both to a table
in the center of the room, strewn with large paper
sheets in various stages of illustration.  "After 
you've had a chance to relax, I'd like your input on
these ideas."  He waved a hand over the sheets.  

Skinner glanced at one, depicting a cage-like 
structure in the center of the complex courtyard.  "What's
all this?"  He pushed that sheet aside and gazed at 
another one.  

"Everyone has their own idea of what to try first, 
naturally." 

"You're going to try and catch one."  Mulder's voice 
was low, and had a sharp edge both Skinner and
Peters could hear.  "It won't work." 

Peters looked at Mulder.  "We have several ideas 
to work with, Mulder.  Not just for capture, but for
study." 

"No."  Mulder looked past Peters at Skinner.  "It won't 
work.  They tried this already." 

"You mean the others?"  Skinner set the sheets down 
and watched his agent.  He was clenching his jaw
and looking at the table, as if fighting another inner 
demon.  

Mulder nodded once, quickly, in reply.  

"We think we have some good ideas here.  After all, 
our equipment is better grade than what the other
groups had to work with.  You have to remember,
 Mulder, we're not them." Peters glanced at Skinner
before he continued.  "I realize the people you were 
with where all highly trained, and excellent scientists.  
But believe me, we're taking every precaution." 

Mulder shook his head, pursing his lips to hold back 
any reply.  He looked at Skinner, then tossed the
maps he'd been holding down on the table.  "I have 
to unpack the 'cat."  Quickly, he turned and left
the room.  

Skinner sighed, running a hand over his hair.  These 
ups and downs were pretty short-lived, but they could 
be exhausting.  

"I wish I could make him understand.  But without 
involving him directly, I don't think he'll believe we
might know what we're doing."  Peters shook his head.  

"I'll be happy just to get him to stay in the room when
he gets uncomfortable."  Skinner glanced at the door, 
then looked at Peters.  "It would be nice to know we're 
not repeating someone else's mistakes, but I don't think 
he could help us, even if he could talk about them more 
openly.  He just doesn't remember details." 

"Yes, you're probably right.  We've made some small 
progress with those records from the other systems,
though.  The communications team found some files 
they could decode, showing data on some of the
things they tried -- we assume -- to get a specimen." 

"Any chance they'll crack the rest of the files?" 

Peters shrugged.  "Doubtful, but we'll take whatever 
progress we can get." 

"Yeah."  Skinner nodded toward the door.  "I need 
a shower.  Can we go over this stuff tomorrow?" 

"Certainly.  I'd like to have a look at what you found, 
anyway."   Peters' eyes sparkled as he glanced at the 
disks Skinner and Mulder brought back.  "I'll send 
what we have to your system.  You can go over them
whenever you have the time." 

"Fine."  Skinner left Peters to his maps and pictures 
of the caves he and Mulder had explored and went
back to the Snowcat to help his agent unload.  

It didn't take long to get the vehicle settled, and Mulder's
mood picked back up quickly as he tinkered with the 
vehicle, checking the batteries and pulling out the ones
that needed recharge.  He seemed to have developed a knack 
mechanics, and his eagerness to learn drew the vehicle
supervisor's attention.  

"You know, Mulder, anytime you want to learn a new 
job, I'm always willing to take on a new apprentice." 
Tom Hinton grinned and wiped his greasy hands on a 
towel.  

"He's got a job, Hinton," Skinner warned.  

"Well, sure, he does now, Skinner."  Tom folded his arms 
across his chest and faced Skinner, his grin spreading.  
"I'm just sayin', should he ever get bored and want a change, 
there's a place for a good worker here in the trenches." 

Skinner arched one eyebrow, then turned to look at Tom.  
"Who says he's going to get bored?  At least I can give 
him a variety, something more than the dull life of a mechanic." 
He glanced at Mulder and found him suppressing a laugh, 
obviously enjoying the good-natured competition.  

Tom shook his head and laughed, conceding defeat, 
then turned to Mulder.  "You just remember, when you 
get sick of him, there's a place for you down here, with 
us folks who do real work." 

"I'll keep that in mind," Mulder nodded, grinning.  

"Come on, agent, let's get some dinner." 

They walked back through the complex accompanied 
by the sound of Tom's laughter echoing behind them.  
Skinner was glad to find Tom so willing to befriend 
Mulder, widening his circle of friendly faces.  Most 
of the scientists had reached the point of accepting 
what they found when they arrived, and made the adjustment 
to the extended stay and unexpected presence of the deadly
creatures.  But still, there were enough of Brian McMurray's 
people around to keep Skinner unconsciously aware of 
every look or glance they received when around other 
people.  It was almost the ninth hour now, and the halls
weren't too busy, both situations which gave Skinner a 
good excuse to talk Mulder into eating dinner in the 
mess hall.  They were both too tired to cook, and their
basement stores needed to be restocked.  

Dinner went well, if not busy.  Skinner found their table 
surrounded by people dying to know what they'd seen 
while out, and more than willing to hear any detail they 
could remember.  Skinner judiciously left out the encounter
with the round food animals and the ice monsters, knowing
it would only upset his partner.  He also wanted time to 
go over it with the group's leaders, so that they could
begin some kind of dialogue on what to do about the 
creatures.  After the meal, they went to the kitchen.  They
quickly raided the cupboards for various stocks and stores,
filling their arms, and doubling up on coffee and meat, then 
left through a side exit and got home with exhausted sighs.  

That evening, Skinner checked his computer for the 
files Peters had sent, taking the laptop with him into
his room.  He had intended to shower and get comfortable, 
then scan the projects the colonel had sketched out, 
but after the hot shower had him properly relaxed, it was
no use.  Mulder had already gone to bed, in his own
bed, Skinner was surprised to see.  He debated on where
to sleep, but finally decided on his own room, with the
door between him and Mulder left open, and slid 
gratefully under the covers.  Moments after his
tired body felt the soft, thick bed underneath, he 
was sound asleep. 

He woke several hours later, when Mulder pulled
back the covers and crawled in.  He didn't seem to 
even be awake, or aware of what he was doing.  It
was more an unconscious craving for human contact,
something sorely missed in his two years alone, and
Skinner was hardly going to deny the man the comfort
of a warm body in his bed. 

The next morning, after breakfast, Skinner spread 
out on the worktable in the common room, displaying the
diagrams and specs for Peters' plans.  There were several 
variations on the same theme of capturing a specimen, 
everything from lures to traps to stunning one with 
tranquilizers.  Skinner's knowledge of zoology was 
limited, but he was easily able to analyze some of their 
planned techniques and find serious flaws.  

Mulder was a ball of motion, constantly fidgeting whenever
Skinner asked him to have a look at a diagram, or outright 
declaring the stupidity of a plan with angry gestures of 
frustration.  He insisted the idea of catching one wouldn't 
work, and pointed to the proof Katherine had discovered 
in the lab.  But while he could remember there having been 
one captured and brought inside once, he had no memory 
of what happened.  

Skinner set aside the plans for specimen gathering 
and took a look at some other ideas Peters' people
had come up with.  Ideas for a closer study of the 
animals in their own environment.  The first suggestion 
included a metal cage, large enough to hold two humans 
and some equipment, and presumably strong enough to 
prevent one -- or several -- of the creatures from breaking
in to.  The second was a variation on the first, using a 
glass dome instead of metal cage.  

Skinner shook his head.  "I wonder who'd be foolish 
enough to volunteer for this duty?" 

Mulder looked up from where he was sitting, studying
one of the maps from their expedition.  He was perched 
on a stool, using the opposite half of the work table, so 
when he glanced over, he could see what Skinner was 
studying.  Immediately, his face drained of color.  

"They can't."  His voice was a shaking whisper.  

"I doubt they'll try, when it comes down to it."  Skinner 
set the diagram down.  "These are just betas, Mulder.  
I'm sure they can come up with better ideas in time." 

"No."  Mulder shook his head slowly, swallowing hard.  
"They won't."  He set down the map and looked at Skinner, 
gray-green eyes helplessly searching his.  "They'll be gone, 
just like the others.  In time, they all will." 

"Mulder..." 

"No, they'll be gone."  Mulder stood, his jaw clenching.  
"I knew this would happen!  They don't understand!  None 
of you understand."  He was backing away, shaking his head.  

"Mulder, it's all right."  Skinner stepped forward, then 
stopped.  He was about to assure his friend that this group 
wouldn't make the same mistakes -- that they weren't all 
going to die doing foolish things -- but he couldn't.  

"I knew this would happen."  Mulder turned and ran 
to the stairs, then took them two at a time.  

"Mulder!"  Skinner rushed forward, but his pursuit was 
interrupted by the comm unit.  

"Skinner?" 

Frustrated, Skinner stopped at the foot of the stairs and 
heard the door slam.  "Yes, Peters?"  It was only the
sixth hour, and no where near the next cycle.  McMurray 
was on one of the retrieval teams sent out to bring a 
tracker back, so there really wasn't any reason not to 
give Mulder some privacy.  For a few minutes.  

"I just wanted to let you know, I'm going out with a 
team to have a closer look at a few of these
caves you found.  We should be back by morning." 

"Fine, we can go over these diagrams when you get back." 

"Good, good.  I'll set up a meeting with the engineer." 

Skinner agreed, then went back to the table to turn off 
the display before heading out to find Mulder.  It was 
cloudy out, and the wind had more bite to it that usual.  
According to the meteorologists, they was a storm coming,
and temperatures were going to drop even more.  He looked
at their coat rack and saw Mulder's parka there.  Surely, the
man wouldn't go outside without his cold weather gear?   
Skinner paused long enough to put on a warmer shirt, 
then detoured into the other bedroom and found his old 
sweatshirt shirt draped over a chair.  He grabbed the shirt,
and both parkas, and climbed up to the complex, working 
his way through the building to the vehicle bay on
the opposite side.  

A quick look around proved Mulder hadn't come here.  
The Snowcat  was empty and secured, and Tom was 
occupied getting the tracker ready that Peters was 
about to head out in.  Skinner walked around the complex
again, more slowly, sticking his head into rooms and making
a more thorough search.  He ran into several people he knew,
some of whom Mulder was even comfortable around, but
his friend wasn't among them.  Skinner had always 
assumed his agent had vanished into the basement all those 
times he disappeared, and he'd always assumed it was
none of his business.  But those times, he hadn't vanished 
with such a look of helplessness before.  Skinner was running 
out of guesses.  He made one more turn and had an idea.  

But when he reached the medical bay and the hot tub,
Mulder was nowhere to be found.  


**********************
Iced 06/15

Surely he wouldn't have gone out in the cold!  He was dressed
in their typical station attire, sweatpants and a long-sleeved
thermal shirt, which would keep him alive outside about 
fifteen to twenty minutes in the sub-zero temps of Antarctica -- 
if he was lucky.  

He looked at his watch.  How long had Mulder been gone?
How long had he talked to Peters before he started to look?
How long had he been looking?  He'd been everywhere in 
the main building, from the astronomy lab to the makeshift 
zoology pens.  Mulder was not in the building.  How much
time had he lost?

He pulled his parka on, then went and stood by the main door,
looking out over the snowy compound.  The wind whipped
around the corners of the building, blowing up snow devils
in the space between them, and making it hard to see from
one building to the next.  They would need to string cord 
between them, before it got too much further into the stormy
winter season.  

Skinner headed out into the cold, making straight
for the storage building that had been Mulder's safe place 
before.  He paused a moment as the wind picked up, 
and stared up at the rise of ice off from the complex,
the place he'd found Mulder once before, contemplating
the unthinkable.  But there was no dark shadow against 
the darker sky, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  

He fought the wind the whole way over, being
buffeted from all directions, the snow almost obscuring
the lantern's light, and he plunged on toward his goal.
If Mulder had come this way, the wind had erased 
his trail, and Skinner groped blindly forward,
compelled by some urge he did not recognize and
did not understand.  

He had to be in the storage building!  

He had to be safe!

There was no other acceptable result of this search,
and Skinner berated himself for letting the man go.
He'd already missed the mark in judging Mulder's
state of mind when the man fled to the ledge to finish
something best left undone.  And he'd sworn then
to be more attentive, to follow Mulder's moods more
closely.

The man had always been moody, always seemed to
have a dark side, a fatalistic streak that reared its 
head at the most inopportune times.  Since he had 
known him, he'd determined Mulder didn't actively
seek death.  If he had, Skinner would never have let
him stay in the field -- X-Files or VCS, conspiracy or
killers -- he would have pulled the man and insisted
he get help.  

But Mulder didn't actively seek death.  He just didn't
always actively avoid it.  He took chances he should 
never have taken, followed leads best left alone.

And he brooded.  God, how the man could brood!
He'd seen that often enough when Scully was missing,
and then after her return, before she woke up.  And 
he'd seen it again when Scully was so sick, when the
cancer threatened to take her from them, reducing the
circle of people who *almost* understood what was
happening, from three to two.  

And since he had been here, Mulder had brooded as
well.  Bothered by memories he couldn't remember,
flashes of images he didn't understand; pursued by
people he did not know, forced to make room in the 
safe place he had fashioned for himself, Mulder was
definitely at risk for some atypical behaviors.  

Why hadn't he watched more closely?

He reached the storage building, and yanked the door
open, relieved beyond measure that the thing wasn't
locked and barred.  He'd been prepared to cut through
with a torch if he had to, and to hell with ice monsters
that rose to the siren song of equipment hum, and the
lure of fire in the icy darkness.  He'd have introduced
them to the feel of a torch, made the hum and the fire
a very personal encounter had they chosen to rise
at the moment.  

But none of that was necessary, for the door opened,
a short, fierce battle with the wind his only barrier, and
he was in. 


"Mulder?  Mulder!"  

He shone the lantern around the space quickly, and
didn't see anything or anyone.  He pulled the light back
in a slower arc, watching the shadows closely as he 
moved more fully into the building.  

And there he was!  A ball of darkness against the deeper
shadows of the far corner, curled up against the cold.  His
knees were pulled up to his chin, and his arms circled 
them, pulling them tight.  His head was down, breathing
into his legs as he tried in vain to warm the frigid air 
before he drew it into his lungs.  

"Mulder!"

Skinner hurried to the corner, setting the light on the 
floor, and reaching out to his friend.

Mulder lifted his head weakly, and smiled a pale, wan
smile.  "I.  Forgot.  M-m-my coat."

Skinner just shook his head and pulled the sweatshirt
out, lifting the man's arms and dressing him as he
would a child.  He took his glove off for a moment,
touching Mulder's skin.  Though he'd been in the 
wind and the cold himself, and he knew he was no
judge of temperature at this point, Mulder still felt 
like ice to him.  Stiff and cold, and the man's words
were slurred and his movements sluggish.  

"Your.  Shirt.  Again.  Huh?  I guess.   I belong.  
To you now."  The words were spoken slowly, with
long pauses between them and sounded as if they came
from far away.  As Skinner watched, Mulder's eyes 
slipped shut.  

"Damn straight you do, Agent," Skinner barked, "and
no one gave you permission to go to sleep."  He shook
the younger man, hard, then lightly slapped his face.  
"Wake up!"  

One eye opened to half-mast.  "Sorry."

" 's OK," Skinner mumbled.  "Here, help me get your
coat on."  He was pulling Mulder's arms out again, and
slipping the parka into place.  He knelt in front of his
agent, pushing his legs apart so he could reach, and
zipped the zipper all the way, yanking the hood down
as far as possible over the man's face.

"Can you walk?"

"Try ..."

Skinner pulled him to his feet, realizing the man could
barely support himself.  He wriggled one hand loose, and
pulled the pocket radio to call for help, then thought 
better of it.  If he could just get Mulder back to the 
compound, get him warmed up, he could avoid a whole
lot of additional fuss and bother from the scientific team,
who still seemed to see Mulder as an object to be studied
at time.  He was sure they would want to dissect the
man to find out what made him run into the Antarctic
winter in just his sweats and undershirt.

He gripped him tighter, shifting one arm around his
shoulder.

"C-c-c-old."

"I know," Skinner said softly.  "That's what happens
when you run out without your gear."  He looked longingly
at the lantern, then realized there was no way he could
carry it and support Mulder as well.  He was going to 
have to push through on blind faith.  

Emphasis on the blind.  With the storm descending,
the sky was a cloud-covered ink spot, and there was
no natural light.  They'd stopped running the outside
lights to conserve the batteries in the wake of their 
new understanding of the creatures feeding patterns.
And, as he had noted on the way over here, there were
no guide wires erected yet, nothing to hold onto in the
snow and wind.  

He dragged Mulder forward, the man's legs moving
in a strained parody of walking, and reached the 
door.  Pausing to adjust his grip, he tugged his friend
tight against him, tucking him in under his shoulder,
and wrapping his arm around to clutch the front 
of his parka.  Mulder's left arm hung loose, and the 
right encircled Skinner's waist in a semblance of
an embrace, but there was no strength, no coordination
left in the half-frozen man. 

He reached out and yanked the door open, feeling 
the icy wind steal what little warmth was contained
in the building, and plunged out into the snow. 
It wasn't really snowing -- the Antarctic received
very little fresh snowfall each year -- but it was blizzard
conditions.  The fierce winds coming from all directions
plucked the snow up and whirled it around, slamming
it into them with a force not to be imagined.  

Visibility was impossible, and yet, they had no choice but
to set out into the snow.  Skinner set his mark, and plunged
in.  The shifting snow was piled in a drift before the 
building, and he had to struggle for every step.  Deep
and cold and wet, the snow sucked at him, forcing him
to use more and more energy to take a single step.  Mulder
was semi-conscious at this point, barely able to shuffle
along, let alone lift his feet through the thigh high drift.  
Skinner tugged, and pulled, and yanked, and stumbled
forward, always dragging Mulder along, never risking
a second to let go and readjust his grasp for fear the
man would vanish into the dark and the snow forever.

"C'mon, Mulder, help me out here.  Just a little farther.
You can do it.  That hot tub's just waiting for you.  
Warm you up, set you right, but you just have to help
me get you there.  Just a little more."

The words were meaningless, and Skinner wasn't 
even sure they reached his agent's ears.  The cold
sucked them from his mouth, and the wind stole them
away before they could register even to himself.  There
was an unearthly howl that surrounded them, the
cry of the tempest-tossed snow between shelters that 
seemed too weak and fragile to withstand its force.

And still he stumbled on, dragging Mulder, pushing 
himself, determined to make it back to the main building,
back to heat and safety.  One foot slipped against ice,
and he went down, dragging Mulder with him.  He
lay there a moment, panting, then forced himself 
back to his knees, back to his feet, tugging Mulder
up behind him. 

The man was like a dead weight now, barely moving,
and Skinner felt panic nipping at his heels.  Time was
running out.  He had to get Mulder in, out of the cold,
and get his body temp up.  

"C'mon, Mulder, take a step for me.  You can do.
You gotta help me, partner.  I can't do this by myself."

Mulder was still, unmoving, and when Skinner gave 
mighty heave and pulled him to his feet, it was like
propping up a puppet, then his legs gave out and the man
slipped back into the snow.  

Was he too late?

He knelt and reached out, shedding his glove.  No. The 
pulse at Mulder's throat surged against his trembling 
fingers. He was alive, they were both alive, and they
had to get out of the cold.  Skinner clutched the younger
man's parka with both hands and rested his forehead 
against his friend's chest for a moment, just a moment, 
so he could feel the heart beating in the cold, exhausted 
body.  Then he braced himself and dragged his weary 
bones into action.  They had to move.  He had to get 
Mulder up out of the snow, get him into the building.

He shook Mulder gently, tapped at his face with cold 
fingers.  "Wake up, my friend, I can't do this alone.  We
have to get out of the snow."  More shaking, tapping, 
and finally the man stirred.  Another moment, and his 
eyes reluctantly flickered open. 

" 'm sorry," he wheezed. " 's my fault."  Then he 
looked at the figure bent over him, a spark of recognition
flared, and he was jolted into awareness.  "Walter!" 

"We have to move, Mulder.  C'mon, you've gotta help
me."

Mulder nodded, and when Skinner rose and pulled him
up this time, the man remained erect, tottering on unsteady
legs.  Skinner looked around.  The wind had scoured 
clean their tracks, and the fall in the snow had disoriented
him.  He could see no buildings in the driving blizzard, 
and had no idea which way to go to reach any of the
buildings.  He'd already begun to rethink his decision 
not to call for help as both arrogant and stupid.  He shook
his head, chose a direction at random, said a little prayer,
and pushed off. 

Once out of immediate proximity to the storage bay, the 
snow was not so deep, but the battle through the drift 
seemed  to have sapped Mulder completely, for he was 
no longer even making an effort to move his feet.  He 
stayed erect by sheer willpower, but Skinner was 
fully dragging him forward now, and forward to what?
With no landmarks, no reference, there was no way to
know if he was heading closer to the building and safety,
or further into the unending snow and ice.  

He blundered on, refusing to think of what would happen
if he'd chosen the wrong direction.  It seemed he'd been
fighting the cold and the wind for hours, though he knew
it had only been minutes.  He was cold, and stiff, and 
growing weaker, but Mulder was much more at risk. 
Out in the cold of the storage building, his heat and
his energy stolen by the cold of the storm, he was 
reaching the critical moment when if he didn't begin
to warm, it might be too late.  
 
A flood of rage rushed over Skinner and he pushed
forward with renewed determination.  Mulder hadn't
survived for two years alone, down here, against those,
those, *things* to die in the cold of a winter storm.

And he hadn't come all this way to bring his agent
home, only to lose him to a bad mood and an ill
thought action.  

No, dammit, they were going to ...

Slam!  

Skinner hit wall, and nearly toppled over onto the 
man he was dragging.  He felt blindly for a door, but
found nothing.  An exhausted sob escaped dry, chapped
lips, and he stumbled forward, one shoulder against the 
building, the other supporting Mulder.  

Step.  

Step.

Step.

Stumble.

Curse.

Step.

Step. 

Stumble.

Fall.

Curse.

Rise. 

Step.

Step.

Step.

Where the hell was the door?

Skinner pushed on.  Mulder was unmoving, and he
was afraid to stop again to check on him.  He fell 
again, and this time, when Skinner rose, he couldn't
get Mulder's feet under him.  The wind bit with deadly
teeth, each nip draining him further.  He sobbed
again, fear, and anger, and frustration taking their
toll, then summoned a reserve he didn't know he had
and lifted his agent, his partner, his friend into his
arms.  

He stumbled forward, still pressed against the building,
then tripped once more when he slid against the indent
that signaled the door.  He dropped Mulder, keyed in
the access code to unlock the door, and fell gratefully
into the warm hallway, pulling his friend behind him.

*****************************************

Skinner knelt next to Mulder, pressing his head against
the man's chest, sighing softly in relief when he felt the
heart beat and the lungs draw.  Renewed, he rose quickly
and lifted his unconscious friend, took two steps and
halted.  

Where the hell was he?

He took a minute to look around, grateful for the first
time since he had arrived at Nihility that Mulder had
lost so much weight, though the man's height alone
would make him an unwieldy burden.  He scanned the
hallway, getting his bearings, then realized that he 
had somehow circled halfway round the building, and 
come in through a side door near the clinic.  

Finally!  Something was working out for him.  He
reversed direction and took off with steady strides for
the medical unit.  It was deserted.  Everyone would
probably be at dinner at this hour, including the
doctor.  Skinner debated paging Aaron, then once
again, decided against it.  He hoped he wouldn't
regret this decision as well.

He laid the man on an exam table, then moved to 
the alcove that housed the hot tub, and pulled back 
the cover.  He went back to the table and stripped
Mulder, dropping the wet, frozen clothes to the
the floor without thought.  The younger man stirred
as he shifted him, and mumbled something incoherent.

"Shhh, Mulder.  It's OK.  We're safe now.  I just 
need to get you into the tub and get you warmed up
and it'll be all right."

A second look at the still form, and he dropped
his own clothes as well.  Mulder would never be
able to hold himself up in the tub, and he certainly
wasn't going to save the man from freezing only
to let him drown.  He lifted him again, skin like ice
pressed against his own chilled chest and carried 
him carefully to the tub.  It was an awkward maneuver,
but he managed to slide the man into the water, then
climb in behind him, without dunking either one
of them.  He settled on the ledge he thought of as
Mulder's -- higher and deeper, and then spread his 
legs and propped his agent up between them, so
that he rested on the ledge as well, his back 
braced against Skinner's chest, and the older
man could encircle him with his arms, holding him
safely above the water.

The water burned, that fiery feeling that always 
accompanied cold skin and blood being warmed. 
It was uncomfortable, but not miserable, and Skinner
knew he had escaped frostbite this time.  He watched
as Mulder winced, and hoped the same was true for
his young friend.  

He looked at his watch.  Almost an hour!  Almost
an hour to traverse the space that normally took less
than five minutes.  Though getting lost and circling
the building hadn't helped, that was sure.  

In his arms, Mulder stirred again, and seemed to pull
away.

"Calm, Mulder, calm.  It's me, Skinner.  Walter.  I've
got you."  The man settled almost immediately.  "That's
right.  Just be still and let the water warm you."

Mulder sighed, but his head fell back against Skinner's
shoulder, and the tension in his body relaxed.  He didn't
speak, but he seemed to realize where he was.

"Can you sit by yourself, do you think?"

Skinner was shifting on the ledge, moving out from 
Mulder, trying to get in front where he could check the
man's hands and feet, look for signs of damage.  But
Mulder wasn't having it.  Half-conscious, half-frozen,
he clutched out blindly, begging, "Don't leave me!"

"Shhh, shhhh," Skinner hurried to soothe the man.  "I'm
 not going anywhere.  I promised, remember?  I'm not
going to leave you.  I just want to check you over."

He eeled out from behind the man completely, slipping
smoothly to the front, and half-stood in the warm water.
He was still too cold himself to want to rise completely,
but he managed to lift one of Mulder's feet and study
it.  He wasn't sure what he was looking for.  Prolonged
redness?  There was that.  Darkening, indicating lack
of blood flow?  No, the foot was red, and chapped looking,
but no signs of blood loss were visible.  

Skinner held the foot firmly, then rubbed briskly, forcing
sluggish blood to move.  Mulder moaned slightly, but 
Skinner kept on rubbing.  When he felt he'd done enough,
he lifted the other foot and repeated the procedure, then
did the same thing with each of Mulder's hands, working
each finger separately, forcing the blood to move, and the
more natural color to return.  

Done, he looked up to find Mulder watching him, his eyes
staring levelly at him from his seat on the ledge.  He 
moved to take a seat on his own ledge, but Mulder reached
out grabbing him, and pulled himself up, indicating 
Skinner should take the seat on the ledge, resuming his
his place.  The older man shrugged slightly, then sat.

From not wanting to be touched at all, Mulder had come
to crave physical connection.  He slept better when Skinner
was in the bed with him, reached out to touch his arm or
hand as he moved through his days, and frequently sat,
thighs touching, beside him on the couch.  It was as if he
needed the physical connection as a reminder he was no
longer alone.  

He settled on the ledge again, and felt Mulder lean back
contentedly, his head rolling into the hollow of Skinner's
shoulder.  He wrapped his arms around the younger man's
too thin chest, and murmured, "Rest," into the ear that
was just below his lips.

There was a slight movement of the dark hair, assent,
and Skinner could feel the man relax once more, giving
into the exhaustion of the day.  Skinner was tired too,
soul-numbingly, bone-achingly tired, and he let his head
fall back on the padded edge of the tub as his own thoughts
began to drift.

Already he felt closer to Mulder in many ways than he 
had ever been to anyone, even Sharon.  He'd had a man's
preconceived notion of how women were when he married,
and had been surprised to find that his wife had never been 
one to value the comfort of touch.  And now, in satisfying 
Mulder's hunger for simple human contact, Skinner 
realized how much he had missed it for himself.  Throughout 
the cold, weary "day" hours, he found himself looking 
forward to the darkness, and Mulder's head on his shoulder, 
his arm resting on his chest, his breath warm against his 
skin.  

Skinner's smile twisted into a wry grimace.  Better not get
too used to that closeness, better not crave that sharing too 
intensely.  The sense of a bond between them would not be 
so strong if Mulder's disappearance had not torn into his 
heart so deeply, left him so surprisingly bereft -- he was 
only too aware of that.  And besides, when they finally made
good their escape, or rescue, or whatever, and Mulder 
was healthy and strong, then would come the time when
Skinner must see him started on the road to his future, a 
future that would inevitably carry him away from moments
like this.  After so many lost years, Mulder must set forth 
to rebuild his life unfettered by any bonds of debt or 
obligation. 

So what point was there in letting the sense of connectedness
he felt to the young man grow into a chain that would only 
hobble them both? 

But still ... Rescue was months away, and they both had need 
of that sustaining link between them in the dark, and surely 
there was a little time yet before he needed to begin raising 
the walls around his heart? 

********************************************

Skinner started awake.  Mulder still drowsed, wet, and warm
and slippery against his chest.  He checked his watch.  
Almost an hour.  Way too long for the tub.  He touched
Mulder's cheek.  Too hot.  From too cold, to too hot.

Some friend he was, that he couldn't even keep the man
from harm when the damn things weren't attacking.  What
the hell was he going to do when the cycle came round
again?

He shook his head slowly, then nudged the man between
his legs. 

"Mulder?  Wake up.  We're like prunes, wrinkled and
old.  Time to move."

"Nnnn ... Wanna sleep," he mumbled thickly.

Skinner laughed.  "I know.  Me, too.  But let's get
back to the basement first.  How 'bout it?"

"Mmrrrgggg."

Skinner laughed again.  "You sure are talkative when
you're tired."  He eased the man up, pleased to see he stayed
on his feet, then stepped out of the tub and grabbed towels.
The towels were big and thick and thirsty, and he wrapped
Mulder in one when he stepped from the water.  He dried
the younger man carefully, then grabbed another towel and
wrapped him again.  He did the same with himself.  Their
clothes were a cold sodden mess on the floor of the sick
bay, and he had no intention of putting them back on.

They would make the trek back to the basement in the
towels, and let people talk.

He grabbed their clothes, rummaging in a locker until he
found a bag, then stuffed pants and shirts, boots and
gloves in, and checked the parkas.  They were dry now
and he made Mulder put his on, despite being in the 
building.  It would help cover the towel.  He did the
same with his own and then led the younger man
out into the corridor and back to ward the basement,
one hand on his shoulder and quiet words in his ear.

"Hang in there, Mulder.  I know you're worn out.  Just
a little further."  

They reached the basement without incident, and Mulder
stumbled only once on the way down the stairs, forcing 
Skinner to slid an arm around him and walk him to the
sofa.  He ran back up to lock the door, then started to 
the galley and put coffee on.  While it brewed, he fetched 
clothes for them both, dressing himself first, then coddling
his agent into something warm and dry.  

The aroma of coffee filled the room and he returned to the
galley to wait.  "Hungry?" he called.

"No," was the sleepy response.

"You want to go to bed?"

"No."

"You want to talk about what happened?"

"Not yet."

Skinner nodded as if any other answer would have been 
unheard of.

The coffee was done, and Skinner made two mugs, adding
a bit of his chocolate stash to each.  He carried them out, 
handing one to his partner.  

"I call this the breakfast of champions." 

"You drink this for breakfast?" 

"Yeah, and now you know my secrets.  Don't let it get around
the Bureau when we get back, OK?"  

Mulder held his cup with both hands, enjoying the warmth.  

Outside, they could hear the wind whistle around the building
and Skinner noted he hadn't even been aware of it before.

The lights flickered, and Mulder flinched, an image of something
new moving through his mind.  A woman, with red hair, and a 
serious look.  In one blink, the image vanished.  

"Remembering something?"

"Um, no, not really."  He wondered why there was no emotion 
associated with the vision.  "I thought I saw a woman.  Small, 
red hair."  He gazed into the coffee, but the vision wasn't there 
either.  

"Scully."  Skinner leaned back into the couch.  "Your partner.
I knew things would start to come back to you."

"Maybe."  Mulder finished his coffee, enjoying the last, unmelted 
portion of the chocolate as it slid slowly down his throat.  So that
was Scully.  She'd seemed really small in the vision, but there
was an aura of strength around her.  He sat for a moment, conjuring
the image back up, and studied the serious-looking woman.  
What was she like?  She was extremely attractive in his mind's
eye, and he imagined she'd move from attractive to stunning
if she smiled.  Maybe she was so serious because of him.  Maybe
she was worried about him -- and about Skinner.  Maybe she
was trying to find them right now.  He unconsciously reached up
and touched the small cross again.  Woman of faith, woman of
belief, woman of trust.  Something stirred in his chest, a vestige
of emotion that flickered out before he could fully name it.
Maybe ...  He shook his head.  He'd spent too much time 
wondering about maybes.  They never got him anywhere. 

The wind continued to blow and neither of them was willing to
let go of this easy companionship, despite their weariness.  The 
sofa was surprisingly comfortable, and Mulder found it very 
easy to fold up into.  Another round of chocolate flavored 
coffee had the interesting effect of calming him from the 
inside out, instead of the usual alert, energized feeling he 
expected.  Skinner explained it was a unique sensation 
brought on by the chocolate, and that it was quite false.  
While he might feel calm and relaxed and quite content, 
he'd no doubt find the opposite to be true should he wish 
to fall asleep any time soon.  They cut themselves
off after the second cup, and Skinner moved to the
work table 

He returned to his review of the diagrams Peters had 
given him, but Mulder still couldn't face what they
represented.  He chose instead to get a book and join
Skinner, sharing the large work space with him, 
but being careful not to let his eyes linger too long 
on what the other man was reviewing.  

It didn't work.  

"They can get into that."  Mulder gave up.  He couldn't 
keep his eyes off the diagrams Skinner was examining.  
As much as he hated to think about what they meant, 
he couldn't let Skinner be the only voice of reason when 
he took these back to the colonel tomorrow.  

"What about this?"  Skinner pulled out a sheet he'd 
stuffed under several others.  "This shows a cage
longer and taller, with three men and equipment 
inside." 

Mulder glanced at the drawing and shook his head.  
"No, this is all wrong."  He reached out and
pointed to the door.  "That won't work.  They can
open it." 

"What?"  Skinner set the sheet down, staring at Mulder.  
"I thought you said they couldn't open doors." 

"When they can reach in, reach around, they can.  
That's how ..."  Mulder let his voice trail off as he 
realized what he was saying.  It was the strangest 
sensation, having information in his head that hadn't 
been there seconds ago.  Information he knew all 
along, but never knew he knew.  He swallowed, then 
continued.  "If you make a cage with a door like
that, they'd simply reach right inside." 

Skinner leaned back in his chair and took his glasses
off, then dragged both hands over his face with a sigh.  
"Well, that takes care of these proposals." 

"I don't know why they can't just leave them alone." 
Mulder stared at the thin pieces of paper strewn
about the table.  "If you stay inside when they're 
out, you're safe.  It's that simple." 

"For most of us, yes, it is.  But these people are 
scientists, Mulder.  Pushing the limits of discovery and
curiosity is what they do.  Hell, it's what they are." 

Mulder shook his head and stood, putting the forgotten 
book aside for the night.  He didn't want to think about 
what these scientists were going to do when the next cycle
came around.  But there was little he could do about it.  

"Well, I'm turning in." 

"Yeah, I think that coffee's worn off now."  Skinner rose
and followed Mulder back to the sleeping area.  He waited
quietly while the other man used the bathroom, then watched
with an odd sense of disappointment when he headed for his
own room. 

Told you not to get too comfortable with Mulder's need, 
one part of his brain spoke.

Yeah, well, I get lonely, too, he answered himself.

Skinner sighed and took his turn in the bath, and when 
he came out, Mulder was already in his bed. 

******************************************

His fears that the incident of the day would bring back the 
nightmares turned out to be unfounded.  Before Mulder 
had the chance to roll over a second time, it was time to get up.  
He hurried through his morning routine when he realized 
Skinner was still asleep, finishing with his shower and 
getting breakfast started in time to greet his partner when 
he had finished his own washing up.  During the meal, 
Mulder agreed to help explain, as rationally and logically 
as he could, why the ideas of outside observation would 
not work as planned.  He knew he wouldn't be able to stop 
them from trying other things, but now that Mulder had 
Skinner's assurance that he'd keep himself safe, his own 
emotional investment was significantly reduced.  

They found the planners huddled together in one large lab, 
busily poring over their own and each other's notes on 
various subjects.  Despite the apparent self absorption of 
every person in the room, Skinner and Mulder's arrival 
did not go unnoticed.  

"Skinner, fantastic, I've been waiting for you."  A tall man, 
close to Skinner's age, with copper skin and dark black
hair, stood and waved them over, then hastily made 
room for them among the scattered sheets and models.  
Quickly, a hand was offered.  "Mulder, we haven't had 
the chance to meet.  I'm Wolf, Wolf Proudfoot." 

"Wolf?  Did your parents hate you, too?"  Mulder 
accepted the hand with a slight smile, and was rewarded 
with a warm handshake.  

"Nah.  It's a Native thing.  Indian.  Native American.
Whatever.  I'm really Silver Wolf.  I got a brother named 
Bear --  Sleeping Bear, he's a lazy son of a gun -- and a 
sister named Summer Wind."  He grinned.  "She goes by
Summer.  We all lucked out.  At least our names aren't
too off the path.  Anyway," Wolf waved to the seats 
opposite his, then sat down, "I was really hoping we could 
get your input on this." 

"I don't think you're going to like what he has to say, Wolf." 
Skinner pulled out a chair and sat, then looked at Mulder.  

"No?  Well, listen, they were just first drafts, anyway." 
Wolf shook his head and planted both elbows on the 
desk, watching Mulder expectantly.  

"It's the doors."  Mulder sat, glancing over at Skinner.  
He wanted to add how insane the entire idea was, but 
he refrained.  He didn't know these people, after all.  If 
they wanted to kill themselves doing foolish things, the 
least he could do was be polite.  

"This is a fool-proof lock, Mulder.  This design has been
used on shark cages, and out in the wilds of Africa to study
big cats..." 

"No, they can reach right through." 

Wolf's face blanched white.  "They can ...  You mean, those 
things can just reach through?  No way.  These locks have 
withstood some incredible torture.  I -- I don't..." He 
turned to Skinner.  

"Sharks and lions don't have hands and fingers, now do they,
Wolf?" Skinner asked. 

Wolf swallowed.  "Okay.  Well, those are out, then.  What 
do you two suggest?" 

Skinner sighed and sat back.  "I think the best approach to 
studying is remote.  Place cameras and sensors around 
the complex, something you can maneuver more freely than 
the ones already in place.  For right now at least, you're going 
to have to treat this as a hostile environment.  No different
than if you were trying to study your sharks underwater,
or lions on the Africa veldt.  Until you know more 
about the habits and reactions of the animal in question, 
I don't think anyone should be put at risk trying to 
get a first hand, up close look." 

Mulder nodded, listening to his friend.  If anyone stood a 
chance of drilling some sense into these people, he should.  

Wolf held up a hand, then frantically searched through 
the loose papers.  "I'm glad you brought that up.  I've 
been working with Katherine on a tracking system, 
for tagging.  The first step in any new animal research is
learning their migratory and feeding habits."  He found 
the sheet he was looking for and held it out.  

"How do you plan to attach this thing?"  Skinner reached 
for the sheet, looking dubiously at the image there.  

"Well, that we haven't worked out yet." 

"Oh good, now we're talking."  Katherine interrupted the 
conversation with a smile for each of them.  "I'll need 
to gather as much information as I can before we can 
work up logical game plans for further study."  Without 
an invitation, she sat down next to Mulder, then reached 
out and began sifting through the files.  

The four of them talked through the morning, hardly even 
breaking for lunch.  Mulder didn't have to say much -- a
fact he greatly enjoyed -- but he was able to convey several 
key points about the dangers inherent in getting too close 
to the creatures they had long since dubbed "ice monsters." 

By late afternoon, Mulder had managed to end the idea 
of catching one, or allowing anyone to personally observe 
them from the inside of a cage.  He considered that a victory.  

"Okay, Wolf, you have tracking plans and remote sensors." 
Skinner leaned back in his chair, cradling a cup of coffee 
in both hands.  "What thought have you put into personal 
security?" 

Mulder looked up, startled.  

"Well, I have a vague idea that needs work.  Basically it 
involves a version of the survival habitats the first group
was field testing.  You know, the ones designed to provide
a heat-shield as well as keep someone protected in the cold." 

"What are you talking about?"  Was he crazy?  Survival 
meant staying inside when they were out.  How hard was
that?  

"The habitats, Mulder.  You saw them when we went out
to the trackers.  They're designed to conserve body heat,
with a subliminal vibrator in the material that speeds up 
the molecules in the contained space, generating additional
heat."  Skinner faced Mulder, explaining.  "I'm not sure, but
I suspect these were also being beta-tested for qualities that
made them invisible to thermal scans, somehow shedding
the heat only inward, so the exterior remained cold." 
Skinner turned to Wolf.  "And you think you could make
one of these strong enough to repel one of those things 
during an attack?" 

"Wait, Walter, you said ..."  Mulder had to swallow a
lump of fear.  "You said no one would go out with those 
things." 

"Not intentionally, Mulder."  Skinner set his coffee down 
and sat forward.  "At least not any time soon.  But we'll 
need some security.  No matter how careful we are, 
someone's bound to get caught outside.  Or trapped 
somewhere.  We'll need plans to insure their safety as well." 

Mulder looked down, chewing the corner of his lip, 
then nodded his concession.  "Yeah." 

"Unless he'd rather see us all die, like the others." 

The voice approaching from behind sent a chill down 
Mulder's spine.  Every muscle in his body tensed with 
McMurray's approach.  Slowly, with great determination, 
Mulder looked up at Skinner.  His friend was standing 
now, facing Mulder but looking at the new arrival.  There 
was cold granite where his eyes should have been, and 
a firm, dangerous set to his jaw.  

"Did you have something to contribute, Brian?" 

"As a member of this group, I have an interest in our 
safety."  McMurray stopped a few feet behind Mulder.  
"I'd like to know what your friend here has to contribute, 
after all these weeks of convenient silence." 

"He has experience, Brian," Katherine interjected.  "And 
a damn good instinct." 

Mulder kept his eyes on Skinner, refusing to face his accuser.  

"Instinct?  What about nerve, huh?  Has he got what it 
takes when it counts?" 

Before he knew what he was doing, or what he was about 
to say, Mulder rose, turned, and faced McMurray.  "I've been 
outside, with them.  I can tell you what they feel like.  
What they smell like.  I can still hear the sound human 
bones make when they eat them.  I can hear them purr 
when they're full.  Can you?"  The words had come out 
in a stream, from a place so deep inside, Mulder knew 
he never could have found it again.  But they hit home.
McMurray's face paled.  "Let's see how long you live 
here." 

The hand that touched Mulder's shoulder was felt too 
late, he'd already made the move forward, the momentum 
of his pounding heart carrying him through the door and 
out of the complex.  He could only hope Skinner's touch 
was a show of support, and not a reprimand.  Had he not 
been terrified by his own words, he would liked to have 
found out right then.  

God, now he was going to have to explain himself! He 
didn't even know he'd known that until it all came 
pouring out.  Perhaps it was a lie?  Something he made 
up in the heat of the moment, out of fear of what 
McMurray was saying?  No.  It was real.  Vague and 
foggy, but real.  

Mulder aimed for the basement and made it inside 
without being stopped by scolding voices from behind.
He could imagine what Skinner was saying right now, 
if indeed that touch had been his show of support.  
It was almost worth going back, just to see his partner
in action again.  Those rock-hard eyes had been a 
shock the first time he witnessed their use, and he was 
glad again they weren't directed at him.  But going back 
now wouldn't gain him anything.  He'd stormed out and 
he'd have to stay out for now.  Besides, he needed time 
to come up with a proper explanation.  

He went downstairs to wait, and found himself in his 
room, staring at the small computer resting on the 
dresser.  It had been some time now, since he'd last 
updated his personal log.   He turned it on, waiting
for his password protected file to open, then typed,
"You knew, didn't you? You've always known." 

Before the voice could be rewakened, before he had to
answer to himself, he heard Skinner coming downstairs.  

"You put McMurray in his place like a pro, Mulder." 
Skinner was smiling with admiration as he walked into
the galley.  "You had us all speechless for a minute." 

Mulder stepped closer to the counters, wondering where
to start.  "I'm sorry, I just ...  I dunno where that 
came from." 

Skinner pulled a bottle of water from the cold storage 
unit and pinched the cap open, then faced Mulder.
"Don't be sorry.  You stood up for yourself better 
than most.  I was impressed."  He took a long drink.

"Impressed?" 

He swallowed, then dragged a hand across his mouth 
and nodded.  "We all were.  You don't know McMurray
like we do, Mulder.  He's a coward.  All piss and wind." 
Skinner waved the bottle in the air.  "After you left, he 
couldn't find a single thing to say.  Wolf asked if he wanted 
to volunteer to test one of the cages, and he took off in 
a huff." 

Mulder knew he should allow himself to feel a little 
proud, if not for having dealt with the bully so well,
then at least for having impressed Skinner.  But all 
he felt was confused and a little disoriented.  

Skinner shrugged.  "You did good, agent.  What do 
you say we reward ourselves with a visit to the hot
tub?" 

"And a cup of chocolate coffee?"

Skinner gave an exaggerated scowl.  "I'll never live
this down when we get back, will I?  You know all
my vices."  The scowl turned to smile.  "Well, why
not?"

"Yeah, sure."  Mulder nodded and reached up to 
finger the gold cross that hung around his neck and 
wonder briefly about what it would be like to get
back and meet the woman who sent this symbol of
faith.  Would she have been impressed too? 

"Wolf said to thank you for your input, by the way.  
You left before he could tell you how much help
you'd been." 

"Great."  There was something tugging at the back of 
his mind, but he wasn't sure if he should even try to 
catch it.  "I still think it's all a waste of time, though." 

They spent an hour in the hot water, relaxing and 
discussing Wolf's tracking ideas.  Mulder had to
conclude that passive study of the creatures was 
for the most part harmless and informative.  He just
didn't care to be any more informed than he already was.  
He knew they came, and he knew how to avoid them.  
What more was needed?  

By dinner, the conversation moved back to their time
out in the 'cat and the caves they'd found.  Skinner 
had learned of Peters detainment during the storm 
inside the larger of the many caves they'd mapped.  
As it turned out, the colonel was so impressed with 
the region and the caves, he'd extended his unplanned 
sleep-over and wasn't expected back for several more days.  

Worried about imposing on Skinner's patience
and tolerance, Mulder started the night in his own
bed again.  He went to sleep feeling good about 
his victory.  Unfortunately, that victory had come 
at a cost.

****************************************

His eyes were closed tightly against the brightness
of the full moon, and the terror holding him in place.
He was outside! Something brushed against his
arm, scaly, but soft, warm, and silky smooth.  Against 
his wishes, both eyes opened.  It was there, right next
to him, still eating its meal.  Bones snapped
between heavy jaws, crunching in the silence of the
night.  Mulder stood frozen in place, unable to move,
not even sure he was breathing.  There was another
sound, mixed in with the crushing and chewing, that
grew louder as the meal was consumed.  Huge,
black eyes met his, and for a moment, the meal was
forgotten.  Terror kept him from fleeing the animal's
gaze, but terror also threatened to stop his heart in
his chest.  When the creature moved, he screamed.  

"Mulder!" 

A light came on suddenly just as Mulder jumped off 
the bed, leaping in the direction his heart had taken.  
The instant he realized it was a nightmare, it was over.  
Skinner had rushed into the room through the small 
door separating their rooms and was standing in front 
of the bed, blinking against the light.  

Mulder clamped his jaw shut and turned on the bed, 
leaning back into the wall.  He pulled both feet up
and planted them close, bringing his knees up.  

"Are you all right, Mulder?"  Skinner rubbed his eyes, 
trying hard to look awake.  

"Yeah."  Damn McMurray, this was all his fault!  He 
rested his elbows on both knees and buried his face
roughly into his hands, trying to press the vision out 
of his head.  Sweat was beading up on his neck and 
back, and his hands were shaking.  

Skinner sighed.  "Another nightmare?" 

Mulder nodded, then moved his hands enough to glance 
over.  He was angry, and ashamed.  The nightmares 
had been absent for nearly a week, now they were back 
in terrifyingly clear force.  He sighed, then ran both hands 
through his hair, trying to smooth down the sweat.  "I'm 
sorry." 

Skinner shook his head.  "There's nothing to apologize for.  
Is this about what you said to McMurray?" 

"Yeah."  He dropped his hands into his lap and swallowed, 
then met his friend's gaze.  There was no sign of irritation, 
or impatience at having just been pulled out of a good night's 
sleep.  

"Are you ready to talk about it?" 

Mulder considered the offer while smoothing down the T-shirt
he'd been sleeping in.  "I guess." 

"Come on."  Skinner put a hand on Mulder's knee and nodded 
toward the door.  "I'll fix us something warm to drink and 
you can tell me about it, okay?" 

He sighed, then slid off the bed, one hand reaching out to
grab the little statue that sat on the table.  Skinner put a hand 
on his shoulder and guided him to one of the couches.  

"Sit down and get comfortable, this will just take a second." 

Mulder sat on the couch that faced the galley and pulled his 
legs up under him, then wrapped one arm around a side cushion.  
He didn't ask what Skinner was making as he allowed the 
nightmare back into his thoughts.  In a few minutes, his partner
was seated on the couch, his leg tight against his own, the warmth
of his body like a blanket he could pull round himself for safety.
There was a mug of warm liquid in his hands, but he was staring
at the floor.  

"It was a long time ago.  When I first got here or something." 
He gripped the cup and tried to shift his gaze, but he felt fixed 
on a point near the coffee table leg.  "There's a door down here,
my bolt-hole?  It won't lock, but it shuts.  The system couldn't 
control it, so they stacked huge crates up against it and forgot 
it was there.  Only a few of us knew.  And we knew how to get 
to it, by going through the crates." He looked up, suddenly 
freed from the coffee table leg, and looked at Skinner.  Those 
dark, clear eyes held his for a moment, completely focused on 
what he was saying.  "I don't know what happened.  There was
this woman."  Mulder stopped and swallowed hard, then noticed 
the drink in his hands. Without identifying it, he sipped the 
warm liquid.  "One night, they were here.  She was -- panicky,
not thinking straight.  Everyone was sorta uptight, and I think
they were tired of her outbursts.  Anyway, she says she's gonna
go out and get it over with."  As if slapped, Mulder looked at the 
liquid in his cup.  "What the hell is this?" 

"It's warm milk with chocolate.  It's perfect for the nerves, 
Mulder." 

Shocked, Mulder stared at his friend.  He could have been 
poisoned that easily, and died in the middle of a sentence 
without ever knowing what had happened.  But then, this 
was Walter.  Dubious, he sniffed the contents, then sipped 
it again.  Just like the first swallow, this one went down 
smooth and easy.  The comforting flavor of warm milk, 
combined gently with the sweet, delicate taste of chocolate.  

"So, she went outside?" Skinner asked quietly.  

"No.  They locked her down here to keep her in."  
Mulder shook his head, then rested the cup on one knee.  
"But I remembered the door.  Me, and this guy -- I can't
remember his name."  That was odd.  He felt he should 
know the name, now that he remembered the incident.  
"We came down here, to check on her, but she was gone."
He put the cup down completely and began to fondle
the little statue.  

"He went out, following her.  Then ...  then I did, too." 
Fear knotted in his gut, and must have frozen him in 
place again.  Skinner's hand on his arm startled him 
back to reality.  "We were at the other building, ten 
yards from the door.  Then this other guy, he flips out
and he ran back inside and shut the door."  Mulder felt his
face go white, and his eyes lose focus.  "Elise - her
name was Elise -- and I were side by side, at the building, 
terrified.  I turned to say something to her, to get her to 
run with me back to the building, only when I -- I turned 
and ..."

He swallowed back a lump that threatened to choke 
him completely.  Skinner's hand was still holding his
arm, squeezing very gently.  "She was -- she just wasn't 
there anymore."  Mulder's jaw clenched painfully as 
he shook his head in anger.  He was pounding the
metal figure against his leg.  "One minute she was there, 
then she just wasn't!  I never even heard anything.  
No movement, no shout.  Nothing."  The hand on 
his arm moved up to his shoulder.  

"It's all right, Mulder.  This happened a long time ago, 
it's only a memory."  Skinner was beside him now, on the
same couch, with one arm wrapped around his shoulders.  

Mulder closed his eyes tightly, trying to get some control 
back.  When he thought he could trust his voice again, 
he continued.  "I was so scared, I couldn't move.  Something 
touched me, and I thought it was Elise, but when I looked, 
it was one of them.  It had just come up, right beside me, and 
was ... it was ..." A wave of nausea struck, then washed 
over and was gone.  Mulder glared at the floor as if it
was causing this nightmare to return.  "It was eating her." 

He turned to Skinner, eyes burning with unshed tears.  
"I was frozen in place right there, watching it!  I couldn't 
move!  I just stood there and watched!"   Mulder searched 
Skinner's eyes for the blame that should be there, the shame 
of knowing someone who could do such a thing.  

"It's not your fault." Skinner's voice was calm and quiet, 
and as gentle as the chocolate milk.  "You were doing the right
thing, trying to help Elise.  You didn't force her out there.  
And it could just as easily have been you." 

Mulder shook his head.  He must not understand what 
happened.  How could he?  "I stood there and watched it 
*eat* this woman!" 

"What else could you have done?" 

The question startled him.  

"You said your friend was gone in an instant, so you couldn't 
have saved her.  Running anywhere probably would have 
caused the animal to chase you, too.  There's nothing you could 
have done, Mulder." 

Mulder shook his head, but couldn't find an argument.  "She 
shouldn't have gone out there.  Neither should I." 

"Mulder, you were trying to save her.  That's the kind of thing
you do.  And she couldn't help herself.  She was probably so
scared, she wasn't thinking straight.  If you're feeling guilty, 
stop it.  It was hell, and one hell of a memory, and I'm sorry 
for that.  I wish ..."  Skinner stopped himself and bit the 
inside of his cheek for a second, then shook his head.  "Do 
you remember how you got back inside?" 

"Someone came to the main door, one of the others, and I 
think I ran inside.  They don't bother you when they're
eating.  And they ...  they purr." 

"They what?" 

"That's what it is.  This sound they make when they're eating. 
I heard it that night.  It was purring." 

Skinner ran his hand over the back of Mulder's shoulders 
and nodded toward the forgotten mug on the table.
"What do you think of the milk?" 

Mulder laughed shortly, grateful for the change in subject.  
"Pretty sneaky.  What if I'd hated it?" 

"I knew you wouldn't.  I've never met anyone who hated 
hot chocolate." 

He sipped the drink again, and found himself already used 
to the flavor.  It was making him drowsy, despite his fear 
the nightmare would return.  It was a familiar feeling.  "Did 
you put something else in here?"  Mulder let Skinner take the 
cup from his hands as a wave of exhaustion swept over him.  

"The chocolate masks the flavor of the drug pretty well, 
doesn't it?"  Skinner set the cup down, then took Mulder firmly 
by the arms and helped him to his feet.  

"You can't drug me every time I have a nightmare, you know." 
Mulder leaned into the support and let himself enjoy the 
drifting feeling.  He wanted to put up some kind of front, to 
at least appear offended at such a liberty.  But he was too 
grateful for it to try.  

"Maybe not."  Skinner set Mulder down on the bed, then 
gently pushed him down against the mattress.  He climbed
in next to him, wrapping an arm around the younger man.
"But until we can stop the nightmares, it's a start." 

Mulder nodded his thanks, or at least he intended to.  
Whether he had or not, he wasn't really sure.  

*******************************************

By morning, the vividness of last night's nightmare had faded 
into a less painful memory.  Mulder was first up, and making 
breakfast by the time Skinner came out of the room, dressed 
and showered.  They spent that day working again with Wolf
and his design team.  Peters had returned from his tour of the
caves and was brought up to date, agreeing with the need to 
err on the side of caution.  Still, both Wolf and Skinner seemed 
determined to go ahead with their plan of using some kind of 
modification to the heat-shield habitats as a safety net, some 
kind of emergency shelter that could protect someone caught 
outside.  Mulder found the idea a complete waste of time, and 
avoided the whole thing like the plague.  

During the next days, teams worked on several projects 
designed to attach tracking devices onto the creatures 
during their next visit, while Skinner and Wolf devoted 
themselves to what they'd dubbed the Personal Protector.
Mulder helped as he was able, watching and learning when 
he had nothing to add.  Occasionally, McMurray's approach 
would encourage him to find reasons to leave the labs and 
be somewhere else.  Since their confrontation, Mulder 
found the second in command quick to anger and easily
provoked.  Twice, in the hallways, he'd been forced to 
duck into rooms just to avoid the man.  It was easier 
than causing a scene that could embarrass, or even endanger
Walter.  

They had two days before the next recharge cycle, and 
already tests were being conducted to judge the strength 
of the modified habitat.  Running from a pint-sized 
generator, the transparent shell of the habitat now 
radiated heat inward and a high voltage electric charge
outward, ostensibly to either shock or blind the night
creatures.  Mulder watched with amusement as an 
elaborate testing platform was constructed and put 
to use, slamming large, heavily weighted balls and 
metal poles into the clear, triangular shelter over
and over again.  Each time, much to Skinner's 
disappointment, the generator would fail after a 
maximum of forty minutes of punishment.  As humorous 
as the display was, Mulder found it hard to witness 
such frustration for his friend.  During the third design 
attempt, he sat a short distance from the test site
with the energy calculations, pouring over them for 
the umpteenth time.  There was something
missing, something that was keeping the energy
barrier from working, but he couldn't figure it out.  

Unable to bear Skinner's disappointment in yet 
another failed attempt, Mulder gathered his notes and
sneaked away.  Back in the basement, he scurried 
downstairs, hurrying himself to keep from changing
his mind.  The computer in his room was half covered 
by a shirt, and hadn't been turned on in weeks,
but he had to try. 

"I'm going to try to help him." Mulder swallowed, 
staring at the screen as it glowed to life. 

"I know."  The voice was back, but he wasn't going
to play.  Mulder felt his face flush with anger, but
he suppressed it.  He pulled up an algorithm he had
been using to work out the problem of battery usage 
and power conservation, and began typing out the 
formulas Skinner was using in his habitat 

"It's foolish." 

"I know.  But I want it to work."  He finished the last 
calculation and ran a hand through his hair to clear 
his eyes.  "If it makes them feel more secure, what's 
the harm?" 

"The only security is --" 

"I know.  The only security is your security -- when I'm alone
and never go out.  I don't want to live like that." 

"You should watch McMurray."  For once, the voice was
right, and Mulder found himself tapping into the cameras
around the complex, scanning for the man.  

"I don't trust him and I don't like him." 

"That makes two of us." His head was pounding now, as it
always did when he argued with himself.  And this wasn't even
an argument.  He watched as the screen moved around the 
complex, then settled in one of the restrooms in the far 
section.  McMurray was at the urinal, his back to the 
camera lens, speaking to someone Mulder didn't know.  

He upped the volume, and the two men's voices came 
through clearly.  

"He never should have still been alive.  His influence will 
prove dangerous, you mark my words.  He could jeopardize
everything." 

"I hear ya.  I just can't understand why this AD Skinner 
is so damned protective of the man."  McMurray finished 
his business and walked to the sink.  "I mean, from day one,
he forced his way onto the team, and for what?  A long-haired 
freak with no memory and a penchant for getting people 
killed?  I don't understand.  You think it's something else?  
That they're, you know, together?" 

The man Mulder didn't know joined him, their backs still 
to the camera.  "No,  it's not that.  I don't know what it is, 
but we're gonna have to keep him from causing any more 
deaths." 

"Off."  Mulder tapped a key, then turned away from the 
screen, shaking his head.  The man was determined to be
trouble, no matter what.  

"You've dealt with his kind before.  Just don't forget how 
they operate." 

A memory tugged at his thoughts, but he let it go.  "Yeah. 
 I know how to be careful."  Mulder turned back to the
keyboard and set the application to run the calculations
for the heat-shield habitat through his algorithms for
energy conservation.   

"What should I do now?"  McMurray had been heading
for the testing site when he shut down his covert surveillance.
He didn't want to go there anyway.  He took a minute to
check the weather on the station system, then grabbed his
parka and set out for a walk.  In a few short days, they would
have to recharge the batteries, and the monsters would come.
He wanted a chance to get out, while it was still safe.

Mulder ducked through back hallways, avoiding the 
entire scene at the testing site and headed off over the ice.  
He knew he had every right to be there, helping Skinner 
and Wolf with the tests, whether McMurray was around 
or not.  He also knew the tension created by the pair of 
them being close would only serve to complicate what 
was going to be another disappointing test result.  Skinner 
deserved a break, and if the habitat wasn't going to
cooperate, at least he could prevent adding to the stress.  

Mulder stomach rumbled but he ignored it.  Skinner 
would be eating in the lab again, with the design team, 
pouring over the results and trying to find the missing 
link in their calculations.  With luck, he'd never notice 
Mulder was missing.  Often, toward the end of their day,
he'd wander over to the vehicle bay and tinker with the
Snowcat, maybe talk to Tom or one of the others who
worked on the trackers.  It made for a nice distraction, 
hanging out with people only interested in their engines.  
Tom's philosophy was a simple one: Stay alive, and 
keep it working.  He was no more interested in tracking, 
tagging, or catching a creature than he was in sprouting 
horns.  Mulder found him more than willing to ramble on 
and on about gears, fuel mixes and fine-tuning an engine.  

His wandering thoughts and the endless ice led Mulder 
to the ridge where Skinner had found him, what?  Was
it only a week ago?  There was a breathtaking view of the
mountains when the sun was up, but in the winter dark,
it was a perfect place to watch the stars.  It was a sight 
he rarely bothered to enjoy, but it never ceased to amaze 
him when he did.  Stars, stretching on in an endless 
profusion of twinkling lights, miles and miles and miles
away.  Light that was so old, it couldn't be counted when
it got here.  Light from stars that had died a thousand 
years before the dinosaurs disappeared.  Light that held 
anything his imagination could conceive or his nightmares 
conjure up.  Countless nights he'd lain awake, dreaming of 
what lay beyond the station, what lives lived in other places
beneath these same stars.  Many nights that had started 
out tamely ended with demons rising, black and cold from
the ice, to race through his dreams and terrify his mind.  

But not tonight.  

They had to charge the batteries soon.  But for now it 
would be safe.  Mulder found a spot to perch on and 
watched the stars glitter in their velvet home.  With 
Skinner's help, and a little new-found common sense, 
he'd been able to stay out later and later past his self-imposed
time limit of the twelfth hour.  Once he even lasted into the
thirteenth.  But each time, he'd been clinging desperately to his
friend's shoulder.  It wasn't something he was proud of, 
considering how calmly and easily everyone else handled 
the daily routine.  Until tonight, he'd never been able to 
avoid the reaction.  

He found himself wondering where the twelve hour limit had
come from.  Why did he feel relatively safe during the first 
twelve hours of a day, and then crave the safety and security
of the station after the mid-mark?  Who had taught him to 
fear the dark and run from heat?  What made it OK to be out
at noon, but not at midnight?  He had no recollections of it,
but it was as ingrained in him as his name.  Lost memories,
perhaps, but he knew his name and he knew it wasn't safe 
to be out after eighteen hundred.  He had always stayed in 
after his self-imposed time.

But tonight, it was going to be different. If he could manage a
few hours in the open, without completely freaking out, 
Skinner would have something to feel good about.  He 
deserved it, even if it wasn't going to last long.  

Mulder watched the stars a bit longer.  He calculated his 
return trip, based on a casual walk and an all-out panicked 
dash.  If he wanted to return with anything near dignity, he 
could start now, and make it in a few minutes after complete 
and utter terror set in.  This wasn't going well.  The twelfth
hour had come and gone, but there was no safety net.  No
one to clutch hold of after promising not to this time.  And 
no open basement door waiting for his hurried entrance as
snow flew up behind him.  No, he'd done enough for now! 

The stars had changed from benevolent friends to evil
eyes, watching and waiting for him.  The night seemed to
darken as a cloud crossed in front of the moon, making 
his heart pound faster as he walked back down toward 
the compound.  At least he'd tried this time to stay out 
alone for a bit, proving to his subconscious that there really 
wasn't anything to fear.  At least that's what Skinner said 
these experiments were doing for him, reprogramming 
his fears or something like that.  Better that he should 
work on reprogramming the computer, while sitting
comfortably back at home, doors locked, with Skinner 
on the couch reading his books.  Yes, that was a good 
idea.  Just walk quickly straight back home where he 
could work on real projects that he could touch and 
hold and see results instead of this ethereal Zen crap 
about reworking his innermost demons and bringing 
them to light and ...  what was that sound ...  ?  

"Shit!" 

"Mulder! Where have you been?" 

His heart stopped, pressed up against his palate 
somewhere.  Mulder had to swallow three times to
work it back down in the direction of his chest.  
"Walter.  Damn, you scared me." 

"You?"  Skinner had grabbed Mulder by the arms 
when they slammed into each other coming around
a corner of the far building and still hadn't let go.  
"I've been looking everywhere for you -- where the 
hell have you been?  It's late." 

Mulder nodded, then shrugged.  "Right here.  What's 
the problem?"  He hadn't heard any alarms coming from 
the complex, and despite his mounting uneasiness with 
the darkness surrounding them, his awareness of his own
forbidden hours, he did know the generators weren't on.  

"The problem is you taking off like this and never telling 
me where you are.  You're always back before eighteen 
hundred."  Skinner released his grip on Mulder's arms and 
looked sternly down at him.  "I looked everywhere for 
you." 

Puzzled, Mulder looked up, then gestured around them.  
"There aren't many places to go around here, Walter.  
What's the big deal?  You didn't need me for the tests so 
I took a walk, end of story."  And end of his bravery.  Mulder 
glanced at the sky and saw more stars than he'd ever seen 
before, all watching him with evil intent.  He moved to 
continue his walk home, but Skinner stood his ground.  

"The big deal is I turned around and found McMurray 
and his pals hanging out where you'd been, then I 
couldn't find you anywhere." 

"Yeah, well I thought avoiding them was a good idea.  
They're not my people.  I don't have to invest any time 
where they're concerned, so I left."  Like he wanted to 
leave right now.  Again, Mulder stepped forward, 
assuming this subject was closed, only this time Skinner 
reached out and stopped him.  

"Hang on, Mulder.  I just spent the better part of two 
hours searching this place for you, and that's all you 
can say?" 

"I told you, I didn't want to be around McMurray." 
Mulder felt anger surge up to mix with his mounting 
anxiety.  

"No, you didn't want to be around him.  But what about
me?"  Skinner released Mulder's arm and pointed to his 
own chest.  "I was worried about you.  I checked the vehicle
bay, the other labs, even the hot tub, once I found you 
weren't in the basement." 

Mulder looked down quickly, hoping Skinner hadn't 
seen the application he was running on his laptop.  

"Look, I know this is new to you, Mulder, and God 
knows you were never very good at it before.  But where 
I come from, it's customary to let your friends or family 
know if you're about to take off like that, or at least warn 
them that something's up, so they don't worry." 

Mulder laughed shortly, shaking his head, but his retort 
refused to come out.  Skinner waited, silently watching 
him.  Of course, he was right.  Maybe he hadn't been 
thinking at the time, but his friend was right.  This whole 
concept was a new one, and somewhat uncomfortable, 
when he stopped to think about it.  And even a little restricting.  

"Look, I'm not used to people putting demands on me.  
I left, you found me, now let's go back." 

Skinner was a stone wall, insurmountable and completely 
unpassable.  "You didn't have anyone who gave a damn
about you!" 

"I stayed alive!"  Mulder's anger flared, but he didn't 
understand what was motivating him to insist on a 
fight he didn't want to have.  

Skinner's voice never rose, but the intensity grow 
much stronger.  "You stayed afraid, dependent on
routine and habit." 

"And now you want me to be dependent on you?"  The 
words came out before he even knew he'd formed them.  
Mulder felt his entire face flush red with emotion.  

"Is that what you think?  That I'm just here to force you
to do what I say, keeping you in line using different 
methods from the people that exiled you here?" 

Mulder swallowed, but he couldn't answer.  He knew 
if he did, those brown eyes, glinting now behind the 
glasses, would become lasers and cut his own eyes 
out with their intensity.  

"Listen, Mulder, if that's what you think, then we have 
to talk about it.  That is not what I'm in this for." 

"What are you in this for?"  God, what was he doing?  
Was this him, or McMurray talking? 

Skinner's jaw clamped shut, setting the muscles to either 
side of his face in motion.  Mulder looked up, blinking 
in the starlight, regretting every word he was saying, and 
still wanting to hear the answers.  

"I'm in this for the friendship, Mulder.  For your friendship.  
I -- I thought we each had found some kind of kindred 
thing here.  Was I wrong?" 

Mulder closed his eyes tightly, nearly forcing tears through 
the lids as he shook his head.  "I'm sorry."  His voice was 
quiet, and he couldn't even come close to meeting Skinner's 
gaze.  "It's just -- I -- I'm not used to -- There was never 
anyone to care before." 

"Yes, there was.  You just don't remember.  And she worried
about you, too.  And you took off and ditched her anytime
you damn well pleased, until she set you straight.  Well, 
you're going to have to get used to it again, Mulder.  Because 
now there is someone to care."  When Mulder looked up, 
he found Skinner's gaze penetrating, but nowhere near the 
stony look he'd used on McMurray.  "That's what friendship 
is about.  But if you honestly believe I'm up to something else, 
then I must be doing it all wrong." 

"No.  No, you're not."  Mulder shook his head.  "I'm just 
new with all this, and I -- I guess I wasn't thinking.  I 
didn't feel there was anything to worry about, so I didn't 
think you would." 

Skinner nodded, then rested a hand on Mulder's shoulder.  
"Now I know I've been a little preoccupied with this 
project, and McMurray's been getting in your face lately.  
But you've been handling him just fine.  If you'd have 
told me he was becoming a problem, I could ..." 

"No."  Mulder held up a hand, then ran it through his hair.  
This conversation wasn't completely blocking out the 
fact that he was outside, well past the twelfth hour, well
into the times when they came.  But it wasn't one he 
could dash away from and pick up again when Skinner 
caught up back inside.  "He's not a problem, I just wanted 
to get away for a bit."  Thoughts of being angry over 
restrictions and scoldings were fading quickly.  "Then when 
I got out here, I thought I could try staying out -- later -- 
alone for once, see how that went." 

Skinner smiled, raising one eyebrow questioningly.  "I 
noticed that.  You're still outside, and it's pretty late.  
How do you feel?" 

"Terrified."  Actually, he was sure he was frozen in place.  
"Can we go home now?" 

"Yeah."  Skinner sighed, then draped his arm around 
Mulder's shoulder and turned back toward the buildings.
"Let's go home." 

Mulder expected nightmares that night, and he wasn't 
disappointed.  But at least they were quick and a little 
less vivid than usual, keeping him from waking up in 
a sweat next to Skinner.  It was -- comfortable -- having
the man right there, next to him, and he was able to 
wake and then shake off the dreams without disturbing
Skinner's sleep.  In one dream, he was certain something 
was grabbing him around the neck, then sitting on his 
chest, watching him.  Something was pressed into his
hand, cold and metallic.  It was the strangest sensation, 
one that lingered even after waking.  The strangest 
part was the fact that it hadn't frightened him.  Just what 
it was, he didn't know.  But he pondered the memory 
for hours the next day.  

Skinner's habitat tests continued to fail halfway through 
their analysis, but neither he nor Wolf were willing to 
give up.  They were both convinced it was a simple problem 
of miscalculating the proper settings, so they continued 
to try.  They had the colonel's blessing, and more often than
not, his assistance as well.  Mulder made a point of staying 
nearby during the tests, even when McMurray was around.  
When the man got overly hostile, Mulder would find a reason 
to return to the basement, where he could update the program
he had running on the shield  problems with the latest 
permutations.  He hadn't mentioned to Skinner that he 
was working on the project, and felt it would serve better 
if he kept it that way.  If a solution could be found, the 
others may or may not be willing to try it if they knew 
where the data came from.  But so far, he hadn't had any luck 
either.  

Mulder's attempts to stay out with Skinner after the halfway
point in the day stopped the closer they got to the recharge
cycle.  The closer the new phase came, the more anxious he 
felt at earlier times.  And his nightmares grew more intense.  

Shortly before the creatures return, after yet another failed 
shield attempt, Mulder found himself unable to sleep.  
There were nightmares waiting, he was sure.  Dreams of 
what had happened long ago, brought on by what was to 
come.  Skinner had spent the day frustrated and preoccupied 
with his failures, angered by what he was sure had to be a 
simple missing figure or untried setting. 

In fact, the whole complex seemed quiet that night.  
Mulder avoided his room completely and set about 
working on a broken battery gauge the mechanic had 
asked him to look at.  It was busy work, he knew.  The 
other day, he'd found Tom talking to Walter and overheard 
him asking for a project that might keep his anxiety prone 
partner occupied during the recharging cycle to come.  
When the vehicle manager handed over the equipment 
and begged some assistance, Mulder accepted willingly and 
without regret.  He knew full well his mind would require 
as much distraction as he could find when they came out 
again.  

But right now, he couldn't find the file he needed to check
the unit's settings.  He'd modified a number of the batteries
and their gauges in his time alone, looking for ways to increase
the time between charge cycles.  Mulder set down the tool 
he was using and looked around the work table.  Skinner's 
diagrams and calculations were strewn about, mostly taking
up only his side, but his habit of writing out everything, instead
of creating a computer log amounted to clutter at times.  
Mulder lifted a few of the notepads, worn thin with erasure 
marks, but couldn't find what he was looking for.  Resigned 
to the fact that they weren't there, he slid off his stool and 
padded over to the main computer terminal.  Another copy 
of his notes could be printed out easier than he could 
scour the entire basement for it.  

It was quiet in the basement, the lights dimmed for sleeping.
Mulder both loved and hated this time of night, when everyone 
was inside, out of view.  Skinner was asleep in their shared 
bed, and he had only the lights of the computers to look at.  
He enjoyed the peace all that quiet brought him, knowing 
now he was no longer alone, that there was someone he 
could honestly call a friend just paces away.  He also hated 
the flashes of memory it brought, of times when he prayed 
for madness, and feared it was already upon him.  

Shaking off the sensations, Mulder called up the correct file 
and began to print his notes.  In the dark of the room, the
lights on their main console blinked and flashed.  One light
caught his attention as having nothing to do with his download.  
Curious, he sat in Skinner's seat and investigated what 
appeared to be a diagram of the complex, with a small red 
dot blinking quietly to the left of center.  

"What is this?"  Mulder powered up the rest of the display, 
then realized it was a file Skinner had been working on, 
and hadn't closed out.  Immediately, he reached up to shut 
it down, not wanting to pry.  But his curiosity got the better 
of him.  After some quick study, he figured out he could 
zoom in on the blip and get a better idea what it was.  At 
first, he saw the section of the building they were in, with 
the blip inside.  Then another focus brought a more 
detailed sketch of the basement, with the blip still inside.  
"What the hell?"  It was a remote, used for tracking.  But, 
Skinner wasn't working on the tagging and tracking program,
only the shield.  

Mulder scanned the area for a portable tracing unit.  If 
Skinner wasn't working on the tag and track system, then
someone had planted something inside.  He found a unit 
on the mapping tables, flipped it on, then slowly began 
to walk the length of the basement, searching for the source 
of the blip.  He'd find it first, then alert his friend.  For all 
he knew, it could be a listening device as well, monitoring 
everything they did and said.  But why?  And where did they ...  

Confused, Mulder stopped dead center in the room.  The 
blip hadn't moved since he'd started.  It still showed no 
less than two feet from the tracer, but it remained two feet 
from the tracer no matter where he ...  

He dropped the instrument and grabbed the cross dangling 
from his neck.  The chain was too short to allow him to see 
the metal, but the tiny bump on the back of the smooth gold
was immediately evident.  "Damn!"  Mulder grabbed the
discarded tracer and turned it on, then pointed it at his
necklace.  It announced happily that it had finally located 
the tracking device.  Damn him! He rushed back to the 
work table and called up the file, reviewing the notes 
Skinner hadn't bothered to shut down.  How dare 
Skinner do this!  And how had he?  Unless he was the 
nightmare that time?  The creature that sat on his chest
and the fingers at his throat ...

Furious, Mulder scanned the notes for access files, 
planning his verbal assault.  It was one thing to worry, 
and he'd given in to that argument.  But this!  This was ...  
this ... it ...  It was only accessible to Skinner.  Triple 
password protected.  At least it would have been, if 
Skinner had shut the program down before going to 
bed.  Mulder scanned the file again, noting for the 
first time the name Skinner had given the program.  
Mulder-Movement.  Was that supposed to be funny?  
Suddenly fearful of someone getting into it while he 
stood there, he closed the file, then spun around and 
leaned against the console, fingering the necklace and 
the tiny bump on the back.  

"Of all the ..."  Nerve?  Hubris?   Worry?   Mulder 
glanced at the wall, picturing his friend sleeping on
the other side.  He was angry, and had every right 
to be.  Never had someone invaded his privacy like
this, monitored his movements, kept track of where 
he was.  Never had ...  well, never that he knew of.  
Perhaps this was not so uncommon in the world Skinner
lived in?

"God."  Mulder inhaled deeply, allowing the last of 
his anger out unvoiced.  Skinner was motivated by
nothing more than concern.  To argue privacy in the 
face of that would be just about the stupidest thing 
he could do right now.  

Resigned, Mulder turned off the lights and went through
to his workroom.  He quickly stored the equipment and 
very quietly got washed up, then climbed carefully
into bed.  Skinner mumbled something incoherent, then
rolled onto his back, one arm stretching out to make a 
cradle for his head, if he was so inclined.  He was.  He
curled onto his side, enjoying the press of another person
behind him, the smooth skin and hard muscle beneath 
his head.  The silver stature on his night table gazed 
back with calm attention as he pressed his head into 
his pillow.  The fingers of one hand found the necklace 
and the small tracking device attached.  No, he couldn't 
argue this small invasion of privacy.  Not when it afforded 
him such a sense of protection.  

He fingered the cross again.  It was becoming an interesting 
talisman.  The strength to believe from the woman so far 
away.  And the strength to accept help from the man who 
lay so near.

******************************************

The next morning, during breakfast, Mulder had to 
stop himself repeatedly from fingering the necklace.  
"You're not going to try it again today, are you?" 
Skinner was watching him over the rim of his 
coffee cup, so he let go of the cross and picked 
up his fork, stabbing into a slice of fruit.  

"No, there's no point.  Wolf and I are going to 
try out a few changes in the settings, then run a few
simulations on the lab computers.  But there won't 
be enough time before tonight." Skinner set his cup
down, then picked up his empty plate and carried it 
to the galley.  

Mulder finished his fruit quickly, then brought his 
dishes to the sink.  "No one's going to try anything,
are they?" 

"Not this time, no."  Skinner turned around and 
leaned against the counter.  "The tracking devices are
ready, but they don't have a clear method of attaching
one yet, so Frank's ordered a week of observation 
and filming." 

Mulder sighed his relief.  

"Listen, I can't promise these people won't do something 
foolish sometime.  But I can promise you, I'm going to 
do everything in my power to keep them from killing 
themselves with curiosity."  Skinner smiled, then reached 
out and patted Mulder's shoulder.  "Or from killing me." 

"Good."  He nodded, reaching up again to finger the 
small bump on the back of the cross.  "Is there anything 
I can do to help?" 

"Yes."  Skinner pushed himself away from the counter 
and walked toward the stairs.  "You can help me by 
taking today off." 

"What?"  Mulder turned to follow his friend, eyebrows 
creased in confusion.  "What do you mean, take today 
off?" 

Skinner turned and laughed shortly.  He shook his head.  
"I want you to relax.  This isn't exactly your favorite 
activity, starting tonight, and I don't want you 
exhausting yourself with stress." 

Mulder swallowed, looking down.  "You mean you 
don't want me freaking out again?"  He looked up
and met the older man's gaze.  "I'm fine, Walter, really." 

"Mulder, I know you're fine."  Skinner held up a hand, 
then rested it on Mulder's shoulder for a moment.
"But you know how the flashes came back then.  I 
just want you relaxing today, that's all.  We'll both
be locked up nice and secure well before they start
the generators.  Everyone's going to be safe and 
sound this time, I promise.  You've been working 
hard for some time now, and Wolf and I appreciate 
your support on this.  I know it's not something you 
care for." 

"No, I don't mind.  I don't think it's a good idea, but 
I want to see it work anyway.  You can make it work." 

Skinner nodded.  "Yeah, well, I hope you're right."  He
shook his head, throwing off the negativity.  "It will 
work.  Just as soon as we figure out what we're doing 
wrong."  He turned to the stairs again.  "Just take it easy 
today, Mulder, all right?" 

"Yeah.  You'll finish before they start?"  Mulder stood 
at the base of the stairs, watching Skinner climb up.  

"Two hours before, I promise."  Skinner stopped and 
looked down.  "Listen, if you need me for anything, 
you know where I'll be." 

Mulder nodded gratefully, then reached up and fingered 
the necklace again before he knew he was doing it.  

Skinner paused a moment on the steps, then smiled and 
continued up and out.  

Grimacing at his action, Mulder let go of the cross.  
He'd never been prone to fingering it before.  Skinner 
was going to figure out what he knew if he kept that up.  
During the night, Mulder thought about telling his friend
he'd found the tracking device, but he changed his mind.  
If he confronted Skinner about the device, he'd have to 
come clean about his own secrets, as well.  

"Take the day off."  Mulder shook his head and picked 
up the gauge he'd been working on the night before.  
How did you take a day off?  He couldn't remember doing 
it before.  When he was alone, he had work to do every
day.  Batteries had to be changed out, power monitored.
There was food to fix, and snow to melt for water, and
things that broke that had to be fixed.  And always, always,
there were the doors to be checked, and checked, and
checked again.  He'd never taken a day off before.  These
people planned in "days off" every week, downtime when 
they slept longer than usual or played games or watched
videos all day.  He shuddered.  Ugh!  He couldn't imagine 
a day like that.  But he never thought he had work.  He
had projects, and things he helped Skinner with.  There 
was the matter of day to day living, food preparation, 
equipment repair and maintenance.  But nothing he thought 
of as a job.  But, if Skinner wanted him to relax, then he'd 
do it in the vehicle bay, where -- other than the basement
and his storage shed -- he felt almost safe.  

Mulder spent the morning working on the gauge in 
Tom's shop.  None of the vehicles were allowed out, 
since they would be running the chargers that night.  
All exploration teams had been brought back that 
morning, and preparations were underway all around 
the complex to secure every piece of equipment and 
set up all of the recording devices they could.  At the 
sixth hour, he stopped working and joined Skinner 
and Wolf in the lab for lunch.  The room was 
bustling with activity, but as soon as he sat down 
with the pair, it was easy to tune out the comings 
and goings all around them.  

Both men were convinced they were close to a 
breakthrough on their design, but Skinner felt almost
reluctant to try it again.  He wanted his own time off 
from the many disappointing attempts already tried.  
After some heated debate with Wolf, Skinner changed 
the subject and inquired as to Mulder's time off.  He 
wasn't overly impressed with the choice of leisure 
activity, but even Skinner concluded relaxation was 
relative.  

Even as Mulder was getting up to return to the 
vehicle bay, the conversation returned to their new
calculations.  Happy to be away from the noise, 
he went to the small Snowcat he had come to think
of as theirs, and decided to run a full-fledged diagnostic
check.  The inside of the small, two-person machine
had become one of his many favorite getaways, where
he could find some peace and solitude, without having 
to go very far.  A diagnostic check would take a while,
keeping him occupied, but still giving him plenty of 
time to get back home and get dinner done before 
they switched over to the generators.  

It was a good day, so far, with no flashes haunting 
him.  In fact, he hadn't had a memory image in days.  

"Don't knock it."  Mulder muttered to himself.  He'd 
just finished the final check on his diagnostic when 
something outside the cockpit caught his eye.  It was 
McMurray, and two of his buddies Mulder didn't know. 
He set down his equipment and watched the trio, 
waiting for them to leave before he exited the 'cat.  
A confrontation with them this afternoon wasn't 
something he cared to engage in.  

Tom walked up to the tracker McMurray was standing beside 
and started talking.  From inside the Snowcat, Mulder 
couldn't hear what they were saying, but judging by the 
mechanic's angry gestures, he wasn't happy with the subject.  
A moment later, McMurray walked around the tracker, 
out of Mulder's view.  As he did so, one of his companions 
struck Tom square in the jaw, the blow sending him
crashing to the ground.  

"Damn him."  Mulder climbed out of the driver's seat and 
hurried out into the vehicle bay.  If McMurray wanted a 
fight, he deserved a more balanced one.  

"There you are." 

Mulder reached the open door and looked up.  His eyes met 
McMurray's an instant before McMurray's fist met his chin.  
The last thing Mulder remembered was the ground rushing up 
to hit him in the face.  


**********************
Iced 07/15

Skinner sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring 
at the notes on the table in front of him.  The answer
was there somewhere.  It had to be.  The original 
concept they were working with could hold up
against the cold and assault for three hours.  
Why couldn't they come up with a design that could 
withstand the rigors of physical attacks for more than 
that?  

"What's that?" 

"What?"  Skinner looked up, startled out of his thoughts.  
Wolf nodded at his hand and he looked down, turning 
the tracking control around with his fingers.  "Oh, this.  
It's nothing.  Just a gadget I was messing with."  He 
wasn't quite ready to share with the others that he felt 
it necessary to have a way to track Mulder's movements. 

"Looks like one of Katherine's tracking devices."

So much for not sharing.  Skinner shrugged then nodded.

"For him?  Mulder?"

Damn, this man was persistent.  He nodded.  "Just in 
case."

"Probably not a bad idea, Walter.  He -- Mulder -- still 
seems to be having some adjustment problems."

Skinner looked sharply at the engineer, but there was
nothing but sympathy in his face.  

"Must be strange for him, having people around again." 

Skinner nodded and continued to finger the tracker.  
He'd developed a habit of taking it out of his pocket 
and rubbing it like some sort of worry stone whenever 
he was stuck on a problem.  

"I don't think I could have survived what he did, being 
alone for so long, you know?  I mean, without even 
memories to keep you company."  Wolf shivered and 
shook his head.  "With those things out there, never
knowing when they would come back.  I just don't know
how he did it." 

"Mulder's always been strong."   Skinner sighed and 
returned the tracker to the small pocket in the waistband 
of his pants.  "He's been through hell all right.  But he 
came out the other side." 

"Right.  Good to hear it, too.  He's quiet, that one, but 
damned if  he isn't borderline genius with some things.  
The stuff he knows, just off the top of his head."  Wolf 
shook his head again.  "He's amazed me." 

"Well, when it's working properly, he has an eidetic
memory.  I'd imagine that would make it easier to retain
information."  Skinner laughed shortly, then picked up 
the latest version of their portable emergency hut, and 
stood.  "Look, I'm calling it a day.  We've got two hours 
before the generators come on, so don't forget your 
checklist." 

"Right.  I'm spending the night in my room.  Maybe tomorrow 
I'll watch Katherine and the militia play with their toys, 
since we're not getting anywhere with ours."

"Better safe and alive."  Skinner hefted the device.  "I'm taking 
this one with me, maybe being cooped up all night I can fidget 
with it." 

"Good luck." 

Skinner carried the cumbersome shelter with him back through 
the corridors, stopping twice, once to remind Amanda of a
meeting planned for the next day, and once to remind one of the
garrison detail to go through his assigned checks.  Each person 
had their assigned duties to check for locked doors, secured 
equipment, returned exploration groups and head counting.  
By the time he got to the area he and Mulder were sharing,
they had one hour to go.  

"Hey, Mulder?"  Skinner shut the door behind him and set the
lock.  "Mulder?"  Dinner should be ready soon, since his friend
had requested the duty as a distraction during the time ahead.  
But no smells were wafting toward him as he moved into 
their quarters.  "Mulder?"  After a quick walk through the 
living area and sleeping compartment, he checked the time.  
Forty-five minutes until the machines came on.  Nothing 
would keep Mulder from noticing the time.  

Worry began to tug at the back of Skinner's mind.  He went
to the living area, and turned on his computer, calling up a 
program he'd labeled Mulder-Movement.  That morning, 
he'd realized his agent had discovered the tiny tracking 
device Skinner had secured to the back of Scully's necklace, 
attached to the cross.  Since he had given the delicate cross 
to him, Mulder had never been one to touch or finger the 
necklace, wearing it concealed beneath his clothing, but 
his actions that morning suggested Skinner's tiny breach 
of personal privacy had been found out.  Found out, and 
oddly enough, accepted without complaint.  It was for his 
own mental health, to have a way to find the man should 
he ever wander off again.  Three times was enough, and 
each one had put a scare into Skinner he didn't want to 
have again.  

He pulled up the file, activated the search, and watched as 
the map of the station began to grow and shift.  

"What the hell?" The red blip indicating the precise position 
of the small mechanical device showed bright, and stationary, 
fifty miles away.  

"Peters, I need one of the Snowcats, NOW!"  Skinner flipped 
on the speakers to the entire station so he could be moving
toward the vehicle bay and still communicate with the 
colonel.  

"Skinner?  What's going on?  Listen, two of the big trackers
are missing.  Someone saw..." 

"Mulder is missing!"  Skinner stopped, then ran back to 
his room where he'd left the prototype hut.  He had no 
choice.  Whatever time they could get from it might be
all they had.  

"What?" 

"I don't have time to explain!  Mulder is outside, I know where, 
but I'll have to *move* to get to him in time!"  He was heading 
for the stairs again, when the silver of Mulder's sculpture 
caught his eye.  Without knowing why, he grabbed it and
put it in his pocket.  He hefted the shelter and ran back 
toward the stairs.  "Whoever took the missing trackers took
Mulder, too." 

"My God."  Peters' voice seemed to indicate his understanding. 
"We'll send the rest of the vehicles out..." 

"No! It's too risky.  Everything is down to minimum power, and
the generators are coming on in forty minutes.  It's too late to
reset the cycle."  Skinner was talking to the air as he mentally
tried to think what he needed to do, what he needed to take.
"I'm taking the habitat.  Just have my Snowcat ready, I'm 
coming out." 

"You've got it." 

Skinner stopped long enough to pull a weapon from the 
weapons locker he'd set up in the basement.  McMurray.  
It had to have been McMurray.  He may have been an 
unwanted hitchhiker on this little top secret mission, 
but he was still law enforcement.  His jaw tightened as 
he checked the clip, then slammed it home.  But if 
anything happened to Mulder, there was a good possibility
he was going to become judge and executioner as well.
Murder.  Well, McMurray might still live, as long
as it remained only an attempt.  He took a quick look
around Mulder's personal workroom, where he'd stored
his weapons locker to keep it from prying eyes.  

Mulder's laptop was up and running, and the screen blinked
"application done."  He couldn't help himself.  He reached
out and hit the space bar, and an algorithmic calculating
application appeared, keyed in with all the most recent 
data on the habitat experiments.  He paged down to the
bottom line, mentally comparing it to the figures he
knew so well, and noted the differences.

"Mulder," he murmured, "you stubborn, hard-headed
son of a bitch.  You may have just saved *both* our
lives."

He snaked one arm through the shield's heavy carrying 
strap and shoved the gun into his waistband while he 
raced for the stairs. Skinner took the stairs two at a 
time, nearly stumbling as he leapt upward.  

"McMurray's returning," Peters announced.  "In only
one tracker."

"Keep him out of my sight.  If I see him, I'll kill him.
But make sure you hang on to him." 

Without waiting for an answer, he ran on to the 
hangar.  

Peters met Skinner halfway, then ran with him.
"I've got men detaining him." 

"Keep him locked up somewhere till I get back 
with Mulder, we'll deal with him then." 

"Skinner, you can't go out there alone." 

"I can't let anyone take the risk.  I have this." 
Skinner gestured to the habitat bouncing against 
his side.  

"But it doesn't work!" 

They ran into the hangar just as McMurray was 
being pulled from the driver's side of the tracker.  
Skinner ran up to him and was instantly restrained 
by Peters and Proudfoot.  

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" 

"I don't know what you're talking about."  McMurray 
shrugged, glancing at the two men holding his arms.  

There was no time.  Skinner pulled one arm free and 
slammed his fist into McMurray's nose.  There was a
satisfying cracking sound as knuckles snapped cartilage.  
"Keep him somewhere!"  Skinner pointed at one of the 
newly appointed guards, then turned and ran to his 'cat,
which was powered up and ready to go.  

"Skinner, the shelter!"  Peters rushed after him.  

"I have a new setting.  Wish me luck." 

"How ..."  Wolf  started to ask. 

Skinner turned from the door.  "Mulder.  He's been
working on it too."  He climbed in and started buckling 
the straps.  

"My God, Skinner!  He hates the idea.  Can his work be
trusted?" 

"The man's a genius.  His work is always quality."  
Skinner clutched the controls and nodded for Peters 
to step back.  "I have to go."  He was rolling out onto the
snow before Peters could even form a reply.  

The small 'cat reached maximum speed, screaming 
through the snow.  Skinner keyed in the exact coordinates 
where he'd seen Mulder's blip, then pushed the engines into 
the red.  There was no time to consider all the events taking 
place.  Instinct and years of training had already kicked in
and taken control.  All he could do was catalog everything 
for future reference.  Everything but the shelter.  The batteries
in the 'cat were low, like everything else.   They might have 
to wait for the station to run their own recharge cycle, and 
then come and get them.  If he couldn't get to Mulder and 
get him into the safety of the 'cat in time, he'd be forced to
use the untested device and its new settings.  The shelter was
a small, pup-tent shaped thing, about two feet high and five
feet long.  The theory was, one person -- or two if need 
be -- could huddle inside, making themselves as small in 
appearance as possible so as not to draw attention, and 
wait out any onslaught.  

Of course that was all theory.  Skinner knew all too well 
what had happened to each prototype during the field 
tests.  After forty minutes, maybe an hour, of assault, 
it collapsed completely.  If Mulder's new settings were
incorrect, they'd be exposed with little chance of getting 
back to the 'cat if they were surrounded.  He didn't 
know if the habitat would hold up longer under 
minimal attacks any more than he knew if these
creatures would ever stop an attack once started.  
There was no choice.  

"Come on, come on!"

Still ten miles away and the moon was shining 
brightly.  Stars twinkled in the heavens, and 
the engine of the 'cat rumbled, as he pushed it 
past max.  

Eight miles.  

Skinner turned on the exterior lights and increased 
the brightness, aiming them straight ahead.  

Six miles.  

Stars shimmering above him now, the clarity of his
vision in question.  Were there tears in his eyes?

Four miles.  

Something dark moved through one of the light beams, sliding
past with such speed he couldn't be sure what he saw.  

Two miles.  

Skinner checked the strap around his shoulder,
making sure the shield was there.  

One mile.  

He unhooked his safety harness and powered down,
slowing some to increase his vision.  The little blip
that was his partner was just ahead.  He could see the
large tracker, and see the steam that rose from the
hood, indicating the engine was on and running.
It was like a neon sign proclaiming, "Look, here
he is!" 

The 'cat rumbled to a stop as  Skinner hit the brakes, 
and he looked up in time to see a large, black mass 
smack into the windshield.  The face staring at him 
from the other side of the thin glass screamed, then 
launched itself away from the bright lights.   Immediately, 
Skinner threw the door open, grabbed the first aid kit 
as an afterthought, and launched himself out.  

"Mulder!" 

Another screech, behind him.  Skinner spun around.  
Mulder was on the ground, ten yards away, beating
one of the creatures with a piece of metal pipe, gotten
from God knows where.  Skinner drew and fired, 
then ran toward his partner even before the round 
hit the animal.  The force of the impact knocked it 
away, but not out.  With lightning speed, it was on 
its hind legs again, crouching for a spring.  

Skinner threw himself over Mulder, covering the 
other man with his own body.  With one hand, he
dragged the habitat free, popped the cord to have 
it inflate and rolled them both into it.  With one 
movement, he toggled the switch for the battery pack,
and watched as blue fire sprang up around them.
The creature sprang and  Skinner covered Mulder's 
face and head with his arms, then tucked his head down.  

At first, he thought the shelter had collapsed.  
Something struck his side hard, then Mulder exploded
underneath him.  

"NO!" 

"Mulder!" Skinner grabbed his shoulders and tried 
to use his own body as both protection and restraint.
He was only barely aware of the semi-transparent walls
bubbling out around them.  

"GOD, NO!  Let me go! They're here!"  Mulder's eyes 
were wide with terror, his panic fueling attempts to 
get out from under Skinner's hold.  "Let me go!" 

"It's all right!"  Something slammed into the air next
to Skinner.  An explosion of blue sparks lit the night,
but nothing broke through.  Another attack to his left 
was met with the same unyielding reaction.  Mulder's 
shout was drowned out by the angry scream of the 
creature outside their protective shell.

"They can't get in, it's all right!" 

"Let me go!"  Mulder brought his knee up again, trying 
to force Skinner off in his desperation to get away.

Skinner had to adjust his grip to hold his friend on the 
ground.  Even then, Mulder's fear was a struggle to
contain.  Blood was seeping from somewhere, staining 
his shirt as he held on.  "Mulder, listen to me!  The shelter
is up!" 

"No, it doesn't work!" 

"It is working, they can't get in!" 

"Let me go!" 

"Listen to me!"  Skinner altered his grip, took Mulder's 
wrists, and forced his arms to his chest, restraining
him between the ground and his own body.  "Listen to
me."  Mulder continued to struggle, but he was
losing strength, going into shock.  Gray eyes 
gleamed brightly with fear in the full moon light.
"They can't get in, the shield is working." 

Mulder shook his head, pulling against the hands 
holding him down.  "It doesn't work.  You said it
doesn't work!" 

"It does work, we fixed it!" 

A black shape, large and heavy, moved no more 
than three feet away from the edge of their small
protection.  Skinner looked up and saw the creature 
draw back, then lunge with full force.  

"NO!"  Mulder had seen it too.  He broke Skinner's 
hold and surged away, pushing into Skinner and
slamming them both against the opposite side of the 
habitat.  It held against their struggling, sparking
blue fire on the outside that lit up the creature still 
trying to claw its way through to them.  

Skinner was pressed against the wall of their tiny 
bubble, with Mulder desperately trying to push
through him.  "Mulder, it's all right!"  He could feel 
the energy begin to burn his back where he was
straining the supports.  Their enclosure was too 
small for much maneuvering.  All he could do
was wrap his arms around his friend and wrestle 
him to the ground.  The blood staining his shirt was
coming from a wound on Mulder's right side, still 
oozing red in a steady flow.  Skinner blocked his view
of the creature.  It was three feet from them, staring 
into the shelter it couldn't break through.  He felt
Mulder begin to shake underneath him.  

"It's all right.  The thing works, Mulder.  We're safe." 

Mulder shook his head, unable to speak.  His eyes 
locked on to Skinner's and he swallowed hard, unable
to control the shaking.  

"Now listen to me."  He held his friend's gaze and 
lowered his voice, trying desperately to calm him
down.  "We fixed the habitat today; it works.  We're 
safe here."  Mulder shook under his grip but didn't
struggle again.  "Now, you're hurt and I need to 
check you out, OK?"  Skinner waited, but Mulder only
stared back, still shaking.  "Are you listening, Mulder?  
You're going to be OK.  I need to check you out." 
He was falling deeply into a state of shock, but 
Skinner wasn't convinced he wouldn't explode off
the ground again the second he eased his grip.  
"Can you lie still?" 

Mulder closed his eyes so tightly, tears streamed 
down the outside corners.  He nodded quickly, but
Skinner wasn't too convinced.  

"Will you trust me?  They can't get in, I promise." 
He held on to Mulder's arms until he got another
nod.  "OK."  Skinner released his grip slowly, 
then reached for the first aid kit, glad it had fallen inside
the shielded area.  Mulder was off the ground immediately, 
clutching Skinner's shirt and pulling him down.

"It's all right!"  Skinner pushed him back down with 
one hand on his chest, still blocking his view of the
creature next to them with his body.  

Mulder held on tightly to Skinner's shirt front and
pulled his legs up close.  "I can't -- I can't do this!" 

"All you have to do is lie still."  Skinner started 
opening Mulder's shirt while he had the chance.  
"You can do that."  His partner winced when the 
material was pulled away from the gashes carved 
into his right side.  "Easy, take it easy.  Just breathe." 
Skinner inspected the wound.  Three deep gashes 
ran over the ribs, exposing bone in one spot, but 
the marks had stopped short of piercing a lung.  He 
checked everywhere else quickly, before Mulder 
could realize the kind of pain he was in.  There 
were no other injuries.  "OK, Mulder, just take 
it easy."  Skinner reached for the first aid kit and 
glanced around the area.  "You're gonna be fine." 
He pulled out bandages and tape, then one ampoule
of painkiller, hoping to get the bleeding stopped 
and get the man drugged up before he had time to 
panic again.  What was it Scully had said?  He got
loopy on Demoral?  Well, he was about to find out
just what that meant.

"It hurts." 

"I know.  Just hang in there, partner."  Skinner 
wrapped the wound tightly, then pressed the syringe 
against Mulder's arm.  He had only three vials.  
One dose would keep Mulder relatively comfortable 
for two  hours.  Two doses would keep him asleep 
for three.  He wanted to be able to spread them out.
Who knew how long the creatures would stay?  

"What is that?" 

"It's for the pain."  Skinner set the hypo back into 
the kit, then gently rubbed the sore area on Mulder's
bicep.  

"Will it put me out?"  His voice was desperate.  
The hands holding Skinner's shirt were shaking with 
their grip.  

Skinner shook his head once.  "No.  There isn't enough." 

"Oh God."  He swallowed and closed both eyes for a moment.  
"We're not going to make it." 

"We're OK."  Skinner's jaw clenched tightly.  In the small 
area under the habitat, he was forced to lean close to his 
friend, arms at either side to block his view.  "Listen to me, 
we're OK.  The shield is working just fine." 

"It doesn't work!"  Panic shot through the younger man again 
and he pulled Skinner closer in his attempt to get himself 
off the ground.  

"This one does!"  Skinner insisted, clutching Mulder's arms.  
"You found the right settings today, on your program.  It's 
OK.  It's working.  We're fine."  He pressed down gently 
but firmly on his friend's shoulders and tried to hold his gaze.  
In the bright light of the moon he checked both pupils, 
then reached up to one of the hands holding his shirt and 
checked his partner's pulse.  His heart was racing.  

"No."  Mulder shook his head.  "We can't stay out here." 

"Mulder, it's OK.  We'll be OK."  Skinner stroked back 
the long, dark hair covering Mulder's forehead.  He'd 
given him just enough of the drug to take the edge off, 
and hopefully keep him calm and quiet.  "Just look at 
me.  Keep breathing.  We're safe." 

"No, they'll get in."  Mulder closed his eyes tightly, then 
adjusted his grip on Skinner's shirt.  "They'll get in." 

"If they do, they'll have to go through me first."  Skinner 
looked over Mulder's head.  Through the shield he 
could see three black bodies a few yards away, large eyes 
staring back at him.  Maybe it was a bad idea to make 
these things transparent.  He looked around at the habitat,
keeping them safe in its cramped bubble.  The exterior
seemed to throb slightly, the result of the power running
from the modified battery pack. 

Mulder's shaking subsided slightly as the painkiller took 
effect.  It wouldn't be enough to put him to sleep, but it 
should keep the pain at a tolerable level, and keep him 
from falling any deeper into shock.  

"They're out there." 

Skinner looked around quickly, but Mulder's eyes had 
been closed.  "We're fine, Mulder." 

"They're still out there.  They won't give up." 

"Mulder, listen to me." Skinner rested his hand on 
his friend's forehead and looked him in the eyes.  "They
don't know how to open doors, remember?  You told me 
that.  So it makes sense that once they failed getting in 
here, they'd stop."  With a limited time on the protective
shield, that might be the only hope they had.  

Mulder shook his head but didn't reply.  

"We're both survivors, remember?"  Skinner shifted a little, 
trying to find room for his legs in their cramped quarters.  
Mulder was curled on his side now, his legs pulled up
toward his stomach.  "All we have to do is sit here and 
wait.  When they leave, we consolidate the batteries
from the tracker and Snowcat, and go back." 

"There'll be nothing left." 

"Mulder." 

"Nothing." 

Skinner shifted quickly, scooping his partner off the 
ground so he could slide in under him.  "It's all right."
He couldn't lean against the shelter wall for very long 
without burning his back, but he found just enough
room to manage cradling Mulder in his arms without 
touching the walls.  "It's all right."  Mulder's face
was cold with shock, and his shivering had returned 
full force.  "Close your eyes, Mulder.  Just rest."
Skinner held him close and tried to cover him with 
his own body.  One quick glance showed him none
of the creatures in the direction they were facing.  He 
had to keep Mulder calm.  

"Don't let them in." Mulder sighed, as his body continued 
to shiver.  

"I won't let them in."  Skinner adjusted his grip, moving 
the hands that were holding his arms enough to allow 
him to again stroke his friend's forehead, trying to calm 
him.  "Trust me.  Just close your eyes and rest." 

Mulder's head nodded slightly against Skinner's chest 
and he sighed, holding tightly onto the arms around
him.  

He could feel the younger man's heart beating fast, 
but the shivering seemed to be lessening.  He let
his hand pause on the side of Mulder's face, feeling 
the cold of shock still evident on his skin.  "It's
OK." His struggling was over for now, and the 
wound had finally stopped bleeding.  If he could
keep the man calm and still, they stood a chance.  
If the power held out.  If the habitat worked.  If the
energy shield kept the creatures away.   Skinner 
looked up and searched the area, scanning the 
moonlit night.  There were four large, black bodies 
sitting to their left, about five yards away.  Two 
more were farther back, to his right.  There was no 
telling how many were behind them.  But since the 
last attack, none of the creatures had so much as 
stepped closer to their bubble.  

In his arms, Mulder shuddered and drew his legs up.  
"It's cold." 

"We'll warm up." Skinner stretched his longer legs out 
to either side of Mulder's, providing support so his friend 
could relax, then bent down over him, resting his chin 
on long, dark curls.  "The heat-shield should hold our 
body heat.  You're just in shock, Mulder, you'll get warm." 

They sat that way for two hours.  Mulder drifted in and 
out of consciousness, never really falling asleep, while 
Skinner hugged him close in an effort to keep him as warm 
as he could.  The creatures outside shifted and moved 
around, but never left.  No more attempts had been made 
on the shield, but Skinner would have felt better if they'd 
disappeared into the ice again.  He wanted to get Mulder to 
the 'cat, get him back to the complex and into Aaron's 
care as quickly as possible.  But even if their audience left, 
they'd have several yards to cover to reach safety.  He'd 
seen the monsters cover half that distance in a heartbeat.  
There'd be no way to get Mulder that far, that fast.  

Skinner shifted and tried to work out a kink in his shoulder 
without disturbing his partner.  The shivering had stopped 
only a few minutes ago, but his skin no longer felt cold and 
damp from shock.  Now he'd have to worry about fever.  It 
took some doing, but Skinner managed to get one arm free 
to inspect the bandages.  As he moved Mulder's shirt away, 
the younger man moaned softly and opened his eyes.  

"It hurts."  Mulder winced and tried to pull away, clutching 
Skinner's arm.  

"I know."  He reached around for the first aid kit and found
another dose of painkiller.  

"How long has it been?" 

Skinner filled the hypo with one hand, still supporting his
friend with the other.  "They won't stay much longer, Mulder.
There's no food here.  Just relax."  He pressed the needle 
against Mulder's shoulder and depressed the plunger.  "You're 
doing fine." 

 "Are they still out there?" 

 "Yes."  He put the hypo away and felt Mulder's forehead.  "They
 haven't tried again.  I told you they'd give up." 

Mulder shook his head weakly.  "I'm not going to make it." 

"Yes you are!"  Skinner hugged him close again and felt 
Mulder's face press into his chest.  "Nothing's changed.  
I won't let them get in, trust me."  He felt helpless!   Mulder
was so weak and scared, facing his worst nightmare.  And 
all he could do was hold him, tell him it was going to be 
all right, and pray he was correct.  

"You won't leave me alone?"  Mulder's voice was quiet, 
muffled against Skinner's chest.  

"Never." 

He sighed and turned slightly, protecting his right side 
and pressing farther into Skinner's arms.  

"Just rest.  It won't be much longer."  Skinner began to 
rock gently, as much to calm his friend as keep his own 
circulation going.  

Time was passing slowly.  The movement of his watch and
the movement of the stars above them was painfully slow.  
Mulder had drifted into an uneasy sleep, still pressed against 
Skinner's chest as they sat huddled together in their modified
shelter.  As the time passed, the creatures moved about.  Some 
of them disappeared into the ice, others joined the party.  
Skinner found himself watching them with an almost detached
fascination.  If it weren't for the brightness of the moon, he 
was convinced the animals would be virtually invisible.  They 
were so black, only their eyes stood out in the dark, scaly skin.
Some were huge and heavily muscled, and others more 
compactly built, almost delicate.  There was no obvious sexual
differentiation, and Skinner chided himself for assuming the
big ones were male.   

They came and went almost silently, with sudden, startling
appearances from beneath the ice.  Sometimes arriving with
others, sometimes bringing a kill -- the bright ball-like creatures.
Skinner was beginning to feel like a display.  No more attempts 
were being made to breach their sanctuary.  And there was 
no sign of aggressive behavior.  It was as if they'd accepted 
this new phenomena as pure entertainment.  

A commotion to their left drew Skinner's attention just in 
time to see the largest of the creatures appear a few yards 
away, depositing the lifeless hulk of a huge ball animal
on the ground.  As he watched, four of the smaller 
ones joined the hunter and began eating the catch.  
The big one shared the find almost politely, ripping off
large chunks of the dead animal  and handing them 
to each of the others in turn.  Once they all had a piece, 
they sat together and ate.  

Skinner had very little knowledge of wild creatures, 
carnivorous or otherwise, but this was like nothing
he'd ever imagined.  These animals not only had an 
eerie resemblance to humans in the physical sense, 
with recognizable heads, and arms and legs, and bipedal
locomotion, but their mannerisms and habits seemed 
to suggest formation of a polite society.  He shifted
slightly, trying to relieve some pressure on his left 
ankle.  In his arms, he felt Mulder stiffen suddenly.  

"It's OK, Mulder."  Skinner looked down and saw 
Mulder's gaze lock on to the feeding taking place
beside them.  He was beginning to shake again in 
terror.  "They haven't even tried to attack.  We're
just a curiosity." 

Mulder tried to move away from what he saw, 
pressing closer against Skinner.  "How much longer?" 

"Not long."  Skinner had to hold his ground, having 
no room to move.  "I've been watching them watch
us.  I think there's a lot more to these animals than 
we might have thought." 

"They're killers." 

"They're animals, Mulder.  Just doing what animals 
do to survive." 

Mulder looked up sharply, eyebrows creased.  "They 
killed everyone.  How can you say that?" 

Skinner reached up to feel his friend's forehead.  He 
was warm, but not too fevered.  "They don't think
any more of humans than they do of that thing they're
eating over there.  We're the ones putting value on our lives
over others." 

"Talk about something else."  Mulder winced, holding his 
side.  "Please.  Tell me what my life was like." 

Skinner sighed, shifting his ankle again.  It was the first 
time he had asked.  "What would you like to know?" 

"Anything." 

Mulder was shaking again slightly.  The battery on the tracker
had run down finally.  If that was what had drawn them, then
they should leave now that it was still and cold.  He had only 
one injection left. If he could keep his friend calm and quiet, 
and keep his own mind off the duration of the habitat's protection,
they just might make it through this.  

He shifted slightly.  "You're the best agent I've ever worked
with.  Smart.  Quick.  Brave.  Loyal.  Incredibly persistent.
Only Scully comes close."  

Mulder nodded and closed his eyes, then swallowed.  "What
do I do?  Chase bank robbers?  Killers?  Embezzlers?" 

"You?"  Skinner looked up, seeing past the creatures staring 
back at them.  "That would be a bit too normal for you."

"What's normal like?"  Mulder kept his eyes closed and 
adjusted his continuous grip on Skinner's shirt.  

"Yeah, I guess that's a relative term, huh?  Well, normal for 
me is oversight.  Paperwork, mostly.  I'm an administrator 
now.  Normal for you is the odd, the unusual, the out of the 
ordinary.  If it's weird, it lands on your desk." 

"And I have a partner?" 

"Yeah.  Dana Scully.  She's pretty damn good herself.  A 
doctor."  He tilted his head and looked down.  "She'd do
anything for you.  She tried so hard to make them  let her 
come down here, but she didn't have the clearances they 
were demanding." 

Mulder opened his eyes, but avoided looking anywhere 
around them.  Instead, he focused on his hands as they 
fidgeted with their grip.  "Why?" 

"Because she loves you.  She cares about you.  You two have
worked together for almost nine years now."  Skinner shrugged, 
wondering if his friend could even begin to comprehend 
what that woman had done for him, sacrificed for him, put
up with for him.  "She came to observe and report on you
and your work.  To hunt for things that they could use against
you.  But she stayed because she saw the work was important.
She's put aside her life for your cause.  She's lost so much.
And still she wants what you want." 

"What do I want?" 

"The truth." 

Mulder glanced up.  "Is there such a thing as truth?"

"You believe there is."  Skinner swallowed.  "You've 
made us believe, too.  But the search hasn't been easy.
And then, two years ago, you disappeared, and we thought
it was over."

"Leaving everything to fulfill my purpose."  He shrugged.  "I 
don't remember what happened." 

Skinner moved his head around, trying to relieve a kink in 
his neck.  "I don't know about leaving.  I'm convinced you
were taken. And while I'm sure your injury was real," he
reached out and gently touched the younger man's brow,
"I'm not so sure it was an accident."

"Someone did this to me?"  Mulder winced and reached a 
hand to his side.  "Why?  What did I do?  What did I know?" 

"Whatever it was, Mulder, it was a threat.  These are powerful
people you've been fighting."  Skinner reached around behind 
him for the first aid kit.  "They have an incredible amount of
control and influence at the highest levels."  He drew up the 
last injection, then got his partner's attention so he could reach
the young man's shoulder again.  "This is the last one.  It 
won't be much longer, I want you to try and get some rest." 
He pushed the plunger and Mulder inhaled sharply, then relaxed 
and nodded.  "But despite all that, you *do* have something
of a life.  You have friends.  You play basketball.  I think 
you even occasionally convince Scully to eat dinner and 
hang out with you.  I want to get you back to that.  I want
to be a part of that when we do get back." 

Mulder swallowed and laid back on the ground.  "Will you 
feel that way, if we get back?" 

Skinner nodded, quickly inspecting the bandages.  "I have no
doubt about it."

"So you'll help me?  You'll be there while I try to pull 
a life together?" 

There hadn't been any more bleeding.  Skinner checked
Mulder's pulse, then felt his forehead.  "We've talked 
about this before.  But, yes, Mulder, I'll be there.  I'm not
going to just plop you down in another unfamiliar situation
and leave you."  He paused, searching the eyes looking up 
at him.  "But you have to understand, there are other
people who will be important to you when you get home.
More important than me." 

"I doubt it."  Mulder let his eyes close.  "But I'll give them
a chance." 

"Yeah.  You plan to do that.  I think you'll be pleasantly 
surprised."  Skinner stretched his legs as far as he could 
in their cramped space, then took another look at the 
animals surrounding them.  The ball was nothing more 
than a large, greenish looking area on the snow, and two 
of the smaller creatures were rolling in it, covering their 
dark hides in the warm blood.  When they finished, 
the big one began licking them both clean.  The other creatures 
appeared unconcerned with their spectacle and were going 
about their own business, grooming themselves and
each other.  

Skinner got as comfortable as he could manage next to Mulder by
folding himself around the other man, then rested his head on
his folded arm.  How much longer?  The creatures hadn't 
moved on them again.  It was beginning to look like they 
were going to make it.  

He drifted off to sleep, comfortable and content.

Until the dream woke him.  

It was the same nightmare as before, only this time, Skinner 
swore he heard his dead comrades scratching at the outside 
of his tent.  He heard the sound again and was instantly 
awake, blinking in the bright moonlight.  Skinner took a 
deep breath, then froze.  Not four inches from his face was 
another, black and huge, staring back at him at nearly 
ground level.  Slowly, he turned and looked into large 
pupil-less eyes framed by velvety black scales.  It was 
the large one, from the shared meal earlier.  It was
sitting right next to them, leaning down so that its face was 
even with Skinner's.  One clawed finger was gently running 
down the length of the habitat wall.  

Beside him, Mulder exploded off the ground.  

"NO!" 

"Mulder!" Skinner was knocked aside, slamming into the 
wall as the younger man pushed away.  

The creature answered his shouts with a scream, then beat the
energy wall with both huge fists.  

"GOD, NO!"  Mulder scrambled awkwardly to the far end 
of their shelter before Skinner could get his legs around 
and under him.  

"Mulder!" 

 "It's getting in!" 

"No, it isn't!" 

The animal followed Mulder to the other end, still screaming 
and pounding its fists against the wall.  The shielding hissed 
and spat, protesting the abuse from both outside and in.   

"Mulder, stop!"  Skinner wrestled his friend to the ground, 
careful of the wound that was again bleeding.  "It's not 
getting in!" 

"It will!" 

"No!  It won't!  Now calm down!  Listen to me!"  Skinner 
had to pin Mulder's arms to his sides to keep him from 
hurting himself further.  "The wall's not going to buckle." 

Mulder glared up at him, hazel eyes filled with anger and 
fear.  "You don't know that!" 

"Yes I do! It's lasted this long, Mulder.  There's no reason 
to think it will fail now." 

Beside them, the large black figure stood, looming over 
their shell with arms fully extended.  Skinner wasn't sure 
if it was the creature screaming, or Mulder, or if all three 
of them had just shouted in fear.  His own heart stopped 
for several beats as the world slowed to a crawl.  Mulder 
had again come off the ground, breaking free of Skinner's 
hold to try and climb inside him.  The younger man was 
pressed so hard into his chest, he only knew his own heart 
still beat because of the pressure against it.  The creature 
enfolded them with its body, covering their bubble completely 
and turning a moon-filled night into blackness.  Skinner 
wrapped both arms around Mulder, fully prepared for the 
teeth and claws to rip through his flesh before it could touch 
his friend.  When that didn't happen, he risked another glance
up.  

White teeth larger than any he'd seen before were scraping 
against the shield, heedless of the blue sparks and hissing 
energy showering up from the abuse.  It was trying to bite 
through the wall as if it were an egg shell.  

Skinner swallowed back his fear and risked a glance at the 
shield generator.  He couldn't see the readout from where he 
was, but he could hear the hum of energy alter its pitch.  Oh 
God!  It was buckling!  He'd failed.  After all he'd done, 
everything he'd sworn to do to keep this man and himself 
safe.  Vietnam, the years in the Bureau.  Hundreds of missions,
thousands of cases, and he'd failed to keep just this one 
man alive.  

The hum changed again and sparks came down onto Skinner's 
back and shoulders.  He bent forward, covering Mulder's 
head with his shoulders.  The younger man folded up even 
more, pulling his legs up and hiding as completely as he 
could under the protection.  Sparks were everywhere now, 
raining blue down around them.  Skinner had to decide if he 
would die fighting or shielding Mulder.  He couldn't do both.  

"Mulder, take this!"  Skinner pulled the gun from his belt 
and tried to force it into one of Mulder's hands.  Neither 
one would unclench itself from his shirt.  "Take it!  You 
might make it to the 'cat!" 

"No!"  Mulder shook his head violently.  

"You have to!"  Skinner forced one hand from his shirt, 
then pried the fingers open and shoved the gun into his 
hand.  

Another shower of blue sparks rained down around them 
and the generator gasped and sparked.  Suddenly Mulder 
took the gun in both hands and began turning the barrel 
around.  Before Skinner could stop him, their shield 
exploded in a flash of blue.  He grabbed the gun with 
one hand and threw himself over his friend, covering him 
completely.  There was no way to turn and fire without 
exposing Mulder.  It was over.  There was the sound of
the wall of the shelter ripping, and huge, clawed hands 
grabbed Skinner's shoulders, and something large and 
soft pressed into his back.  There was a scream, loud and 
terrifying, inches from his ear.  

And then, then there was nothing.  

In his life experiences, both in the war and in the
Bureau, Skinner had been led to believe death would 
be painful.  Especially if that death was due to being 
eaten alive by a giant living monster.  So if there 
hadn't been any pain, maybe he wasn't dead after all?  
The shaking body underneath him proved it.  

"Mulder?"  Skinner raised his head, then blinked violently 
to clear his eyes.  Mulder was beneath him, the monster
above staring down, but not moving.  The creature was
staring at something that lay on the snow just above 
their heads.  Skinner twisted slightly and looked.  

It was the statue.  Mulder's statue.  It must have 
tumbled from his pocket when he threw himself
over Mulder.  And now the creature stared at it,
enthralled.  It made a sound and several more of the
monsters appeared beside them, also still, also staring
at the sculpture on the snow.  

Under him, Mulder quaked. Skinner was sprawled
on top of the man, arms and legs curled protectively
about him.  And he could feel the younger man's
complete and utter terror.  His body vibrated with
fear, and his mind seemed almost gone.  He tightened
his grip on his agent, remembering his vow.

"They'll have to come through me first, Mulder."

And into the silence of the icy darkness, there came
a response.  Something purred.  A warm, gentle
sound, that emanated deep in the throat and was oddly
comforting.  A second throat began to purr, and then
a third, and soon they were surrounded by the soft-scaled
black ice monsters, each one purring softly.

It lasted about a minute, and then they disappeared
into the ice.  

They were alive!  They'd made it!  "Mulder!"  He 
looked down and found his friend pale and shaking, 
still holding his shirt in a desperate attempt to keep 
Skinner close.  "It's all right, they're gone."  Skinner 
reached up and held Mulder's face, trying to penetrate 
eyes dulled by terror.  "Mulder, it's over.  We're alive." 
The skin under his hands was ice cold and damp with 
shock.  "Oh God.  Mulder, listen to me, we're OK.  It's
over.  Look."  Skinner pulled away enough to show their 
surroundings, completely vacant of animal life.  When 
he looked back, Mulder was shaking his head.  

"Don't leave me." 

"I won't.  It's over now, Mulder.  Just relax.  We'll 
get you back home."  He could still feel the impressions 
of clawed hands on his shoulders.  What had happened 
during those seconds, he wasn't sure.  But it was over
and the creatures were gone.  

"Don't leave me." 

"Mulder, it's OK.  I just need to get you to the 'cat." 
Skinner reached down and tried to scoop his partner 
up, but he didn't budge.  His body was wracked with 
shivering and his head shook from side to side.  

"No." 

Skinner relaxed his efforts and smoothed back the 
hair from Mulder's forehead.  He was deep in shock
and getting worse.  "OK, it's OK.  I'm right here, 
Mulder."  He continued the motions, desperately trying 
to calm him down.  There were blankets in the 'cat, 
and he needed to confirm a rescue was on its way.  
"Mulder, listen to me.  I need to run to the 'cat, just 
for a second." There was no way to get the man to 
his feet in this condition.  "I'm not leaving, understand?  
It's OK."  He pried the hands from his shirt then held 
Mulder's chin, making the younger man look him in 
the eyes.  "I'll be right back."

Skinner couldn't afford to wait.  He hurried off the 
ground, then stumbled to the 'cat on legs cramped
from the long night.  The door was still open, and 
the inside of the 'cat was dusted with blown in snow.  
He crashed through the opening, cursing his tired 
muscles, found the emergency blankets and portable 
radio, then dashed back to where Mulder still lay
in the torn and shredded remains of the habitat, 
shaking.  

"It's all right now."  Skinner quickly bundled him 
into the blankets, wrapping him completely from
shoulders to toes, then radioed for help, confirming 
their position to the rescue teams already in route.
"They're on the way."  He set the radio aside, then 
pulled Mulder's shoulders off the ground and cradled 
him again in his lap, hugging him for warmth against 
the cold, sunless air.  

"Don't leave me." 

"I'm right here, Mulder."  Skinner let his arms 
envelope Mulder, then folded his head down over long, 
damp curls.  "It's all right now." 


"Please ..."  

The sound was heart-breaking, and Skinner
tightened his grip, then shifted until powerful legs
were under him, and he could rise.  He lifted the
younger man, and stumbled back to the 'cat,
fumbling open the cargo area, and sliding them 
both inside.  

"I don't want to be alone again."

"Shhhh.  You're not.  You won't be."  Skinner pulled
the door shut, then started the battery powered heater,
not knowing how long it would last, but knowing he
had to get Mulder warm.  He lay beside the injured
man, surrounding him with arms and legs, and pulled
him into his body.  One hand reached up and stroked 
fear-wet hair, pushing it back so his hand could linger
on the cold, cold cheek.

*******************************************

Their rescue was almost overwhelming.  Almost every 
vehicle in the bay had showed up filled with volunteers 
armed with every weapon they could find.  Skinner refused 
to give up his hold on Mulder, so they were bustled into 
the largest of the trackers and secured on a wide, padded 
couch.  The three who vacated were crammed into the
small 'cat to bring  the machine back to the complex.  

Aaron gave them each a quick glance, then immediately 
sedated Mulder for the ride back.  Even then, Skinner 
was reluctant to give up his protective hold until they 
were safely in the med lab.  He washed up while the 
doctor cleaned and stitched his partner's injuries.  

"Thank God for that habitat."  Peters handed Skinner 
a towel, then leaned against the door jamb of the
adjacent room Skinner was using to clean up in.  
"Mulder was right, then?" 

Skinner sighed deeply and shook his head.  "I'm not 
so sure."  He pulled the warm cloth over his face
one more time, then worked his hands dry.  "It gave 
out at the end." 

"What?"  Peters stood straight, eyebrows creasing.  
"How?" 

"It was one of those things.  The biggest one I've 
seen yet, in fact."  Skinner tossed the towel and walked
out of the small bathroom.  He glanced across the room 
where his partner lay sleeping, then turned back to 
Peters, making sure he kept his voice low.  "They attacked 
at first, a few times.  Then for hours and hours they just 
sat and watched us.  There was no strain on the shield, 
nothing outside testing it.  But then that big one decided
to get a closer look."  He couldn't help the shudder that 
ran down his spine with the recent memory.  "It was 
right there." Skinner held a hand in front of his face 
as a demonstration.  "Right there.  Just staring at us 
both.  And for a minute I was staring back at it.  Then
Mulder saw it." 

"I can't even imagine what that must have been like." 

"No, I'm sure you can't.  I was there and I can't even 
sort out the details yet." He ran a hand over his mouth, 
tugging down as his mouth opened in a tight 'o' and 
shook his head again, looking at the sleeping figure 
of his friend.  "Mulder exploded.  I thought he was 
going to burst right through from the inside.  I think 
he would have, if I hadn't been able to stop him." 

"But if this one got through, why didn't it kill you 
both?" 

Skinner shrugged.  "I don't know.  It was there, 
literally ON the habitat.  Trying to eat through the top.
I -- we heard the generator start to fluctuate, then 
sparks were flying everywhere.  Inside and out.
There wasn't time to do anything.  I covered Mulder 
with my body, heard the shield completely give
up, the wall ripped.  I felt something grab me and then..." 
He shrugged, still unable to believe what had happened.  
"Then nothing.  When I looked up again, they were 
all standing around in a circle, making the damnedest
sound, and then they were gone." 

Peters shook his head in disbelief, then glanced 
toward Mulder.  "That must have been a living hell." 

"You have no idea." 

"So, the settings Mulder came up with didn't work 
after all?" 

Skinner inhaled deeply and considered the question.  
"I'm not so sure anymore.  They worked up to a point.  
But then so did the other tests." 

"Yes, but those gave out rather quickly.  And that was 
due to the load put on them." 

"I don't know."  Skinner chewed the inside of his cheek.  
He shook his head slowly.  " I suppose -- it could be that 
the shield gave out just because the generator wasn't fully 
charged."  It could also be true the monsters had seemed 
in awe of the little statue, almost adopting and attitude of
worship, but Skinner wasn't ready to discuss that with 
anyone yet.  The things he hadn't been able to think 
about earlier were now asking for permission to be 
worked out.  "There's more questions than answers right 
now, and I'm too exhausted to think of any of them." 

"Of course.  You should get some rest."  Peters gave 
Skinner's shoulder a pat, then nodded toward Mulder.
"I expect you'll be staying in here until he's cleared
to leave?" 

"Yes."  Skinner rubbed tired eyes and nodded.  "Maybe
we can kill two birds with one stone tonight.  Test 
another shield generator and put McMurray under it?" 

"Oh, that's right."  Peters lowered his gaze.  "They 
didn't have a chance to tell you." 

Skinner felt his jaw clench instinctively in reaction 
to Peters' tone of voice.  "Tell me what?" 

"McMurray escaped." 

"What?" 

"This morning, when we all left to fetch you two 
back.  His detail let him out and they all took off.
Everyone but Weaver.  Took one of the trackers,
raided the food stores, stole a generator, power
converter and several batteries."  Peters shrugged 
apologetically.  "My military skills lean more toward
administration than confinement.  I'm a scientist,
Skinner, not a warrior.  No one knew what happened
until it was too late.  Besides, he had those other
men with him.  They all crammed into the one tracker
we left and disappeared." 

Skinner had to force his jaw to relax.  After a moment, 
he nodded.  "We'll get him when he comes back.
There's no place for him to go." 

"Yes, of course.  He's not going anywhere."  Peters nodded. 
 "I, however, should be.  I'll leave you to get some rest.  
Perhaps tomorrow we can get Wolf to work out those 
new settings and test another shield." 

"Right." Skinner watched Peters leave, then sighed heavily. 
He was exhausted, but it went beyond tired.  It was the 
kind of complete drain that kept you from sleeping, even 
if you tried.  Which he had no intention of doing.  Not yet.  
Mulder would be coming out of the anesthetic any minute 
now, with no conscious understanding that he was safe.  
McMurray might be gone for now, but he had made friends.  
And while the obvious ones were gone, there was no telling 
how many were left.  

He pulled a comfortable chair up close to the bed Mulder
was sleeping in, turned it around to face his partner and 
got situated.  Watching the injured man sleep, Skinner 
was struck by how young he looked.  Despite being forty,
he just looked so young.  Young, alone, and afraid.  

"Not anymore."  He reached out and rested one hand on 
Mulder's arm, waiting for him to wake up.  Every memory 
of those hours was burned in his mind, and adrenaline 
still coursed through his blood.  Skinner was sure there 
would be new nightmares now to replace the old one.  
But that was fitting.  He had a new life to replace the 
old one.  A new war to replace the old battles.  And a 
new friend to replace the emptiness he hadn't been 
aware of before.  

A weariness dragged at the corners of Skinner's mind.  
He rubbed both eyes tiredly and tried to make sense 
of things.  McMurray could only go so far in the
stolen tracker.  How far, though was the question.  And
where?  The complex would be charging the batteries
again now.  They'd aborted their charge cycle to come
and get Mulder.  Wouldn't that draw the creatures?  Would 
they be drawn to the tracker McMurray was in?  It 
wasn't likely McMurray or his escapees would stay away
from the safety of the complex for long.  They'd catch 
him the instant he showed back up.  After all, where 
could he go?  And after their rescue a few short hours 
ago, Skinner felt confident he wasn't going to be the 
only one keeping an eye on Mulder's safety anymore.  

And then there was the statue.  How had Mulder come 
to have it?  And what did it mean?  Amanda had made 
no progress in determining what the metal was, or where 
it came from.  Or even how to shape and mold it as had 
obviously been done to create the little figure.  And was 
the sight of the sculpture really what had changed the 
creatures?  No, Skinner shook his head and blinked away 
a heavy blanket of exhaustion creeping over his eyes.  
Did Mulder know of the power of the statue over the 
creatures, and just not tell them?  No, Mulder wouldn't do that. 

Which left the question of how.  How had Mulder gotten the
statue?  How had Mulder survived when everyone else was
dead?  Or were they only missing?  And if so, where could 
they have gone in the uncharted, frozen wasteland?  Why 
did Mulder cling to the statue without even realizing it?  
What else was buried in the man's mind, hidden by the 
bastards that abandoned him here alone?  He slammed 
one hand down hard on the edge of the chair, feeling a 
satisfying jolt of pain explode up his arm.

God, the questions were just as confusing as the answers.  

"Walter?"  Mulder swallowed, eyes still closed.  He turned
his head toward Skinner and blinked.  

"Hey, Mulder."  Skinner leaned forward quickly, smiling 
in relief when hazel eyes opened.  

"Oh God!"  Instantly he was up, panic-stricken eyes 
searching for a way out that was no longer needed.  

"No, it's OK!"  Skinner grabbed Mulder's shoulders 
and pressed him gently but firmly back down on the
bed.  "It's OK, we're safe now." 

Mulder resisted, shaking his head, but he was too weak 
to fight the stronger arms holding him down.  "No, 
we're -- they -- wha ...where are we?"  Confused, he 
stared up into Skinner's eyes.  

"We're in the med lab."  Skinner leaned aside slightly 
so his partner could see their surroundings.  "It's over, 
we're fine.  Everything's all right now.  Just lie back, 
relax." He eased up his grip and moved one hand to 
smooth back the long hair that had fallen into Mulder's 
eyes.  

"I -- I thought..." 

"It's OK."  Skinner continued to stroke the dark hair 
until he felt his friend relax back against the pillows.  
He was shaking again slightly as he glanced around 
the room.  "Are you warm enough?"  Without waiting 
for an answer, Skinner walked to the next bed and 
removed a blanket folded at the foot, then draped it 
over Mulder and brought it up to his shoulders.  "It's 
the shock, Mulder.  You'll warm up soon." 

"I was so scared."  Mulder took the top of the blanket 
and grabbed a handful.  "I thought -- I thought we
were dead."  His gaze rested on the blanket for an 
instant, then moved again as if he expected his
surroundings to change if he didn't keep an eye on 
them.  

"So did I."  Skinner ignored the chair and sat on 
the edge of the bed, resting a hand on Mulder's arm.
"That's something I never want to go through again." 

Mulder shook his head.  His face was a torrent of 
emotions and exhaustion.  "No, you weren't scared.
You saved my life." 

Skinner sighed quietly.  He had been terrified, but 
there hadn't been time to indulge the fear.  Just as
terrified as his partner, he was sure.  But that wasn't 
what Mulder wanted to hear right now, even if he
really knew it to be true.  

"It's over now."  Skinner reached up and tucked the 
blanket closer to Mulder's side.  "You need some
rest.  Aaron got your wounds stitched, but you'll have 
to lie still for a while to give it time to set." 

Mulder nodded, then shivered again.  "Will you stay 
here?" 

"Yeah, I'll stay here."  Skinner smiled.  He looked up 
and caught Aaron's eye as he came into the large
room.  "Aaron needs to check you out, Mulder.  I'll 
be right over there." 

"What about McMurray?" 

Skinner's jaw clenched automatically and he had to 
force himself to relax.  They hadn't even talked about 
how this all started.  "He got away."  There was a flicker 
of fear in Mulder's eyes, mixed with the exhaustion 
of sustained terror.  "When it was over, nearly everyone 
here came out to rescue us.  Well, as many as could fit 
into the vehicles that were left.  Wolf, Amanda, Hector,
and the colonel."  Skinner smiled at the surprised reaction 
he saw.  "These people are scientists, as Peters so rightly 
put it.  They're not military, they're not government.  
They're certainly not law enforcement.  McMurray had 
help and they made a break.  Don't worry, Mulder.  
They won't last long out there.  We'll find him." 

Mulder looked down at his blanket, then let his 
fist-full go and smoothed it out.  He sighed, then
looked up and nodded.  "When you do, can you 
put him outside in one of those things for a while?" 

Skinner laughed shortly and rested a hand on Mulder's 
head momentarily.  "Don't think I haven't considered it." 

He left the room only after assurances from his partner 
that he could survive a few minutes in the doctor's 
company.  A good-natured teasing from Aaron helped 
speed him toward the dining room for some coffee.  
What was intended as a quick trip for some much needed 
caffeine turned into an exercise in fielding questions 
from concerned people who had been unable to participate
in the massive rescue that morning.  Skinner tried to 
condense the story into bits and pieces they could all talk
about later, assuring everyone that Mulder would indeed 
recover completely from his injuries, and that they 
would be doing everything in their power to secure 
McMurray once again.  When he finally returned to 
the med lab, he was so wired from the commotion he 
hadn't needed the coffee.  Sleep was something he 
wasn't comfortable with just yet.  Until he had his 
partner safe in the basement, where the only way in 
or out could be secured, he wasn't going to get any
real sleep.  

"Aaron, how is he?" 

The doctor looked up and smiled.  "He'll be fine in 
a few weeks.  At least physically.  The wounds were 
deep, but from what I can tell there's no poison involved 
in the creature's bite, or claw, or whatever that was 
exactly.  Mulder hasn't been able to tell me." 

Skinner creased his eyebrows and shrugged.  He'd 
assumed they were claw marks, but then, he hadn't
even considered poison.  "He's still shaking." 

"Do you blame him?"  Aaron kept his voice quiet as 
he glanced back over his shoulder at his patient.  

"No.  I'm surprised I'm not shaking myself."  He could
still feel the clawed hands clutching his shoulders, but 
the only marks left by the giant beast were slight 
bruises.  "I want to take him home tomorrow.  I think 
it will be safer there." 

Aaron nodded.  "I agree.  He can rest there as easily as 
here.  And I'm sure being in more comfortable surroundings 
will help him." 

Skinner sighed heavily and stretched his neck to ease a 
kink in the muscles.  

"You should get some sleep yourself." Aaron nodded 
toward the bed behind him.  "I had the bed next to his 
made up.  Figured you'd be staying here.  Mulder is 
mildly sedated, so he's going to be in and out.  Mostly out, 
I expect."  He smiled and rested a hand on Skinner's arm. 
"At least try and catch a few winks now and again." 

"I'll be fine." 

"I mean it, Walter," Aaron scolded.  "As long as he can 
wake up and see you, he'll be fine."  Skinner raised an eyebrow 
at the remark and the doctor smiled.  "You're his protection.  
It's a common method of coping with situations that are 
too stressful to handle alone.  And God knows he's had 
enough of those since we came here." 

"Yeah."  He touched the man's arm in thanks, then walked 
back to his comfortable chair.  Mulder was asleep, with 
a monitor cuff secured around his right upper arm, feeding 
a mild anesthetic into his veins whenever needed.  

Skinner rested a hand gently on his partner's forehead for 
a moment, assuring himself there was no fever building.  
Mulder's only reaction was a slight sigh in his sleep.  
Convinced the younger man was comfortable and not 
likely to wake up any time soon, Skinner settled into the 
chair and pulled a blanket over his legs.  Aaron had left 
the room and there were no other patients in the med lab.
Skinner knew he could sleep just as easily in that chair, 
and still be able to wake up should Mulder stir or have 
a nightmare.  Which he did.  

Three times in the next four hours, Mulder's sleep was 
interrupted by nightmares that Skinner woke him out 
of.  By the third time, he asked to be allowed to sit up 
for a while, hoping to avoid sleep for a while.  Skinner 
obliged, setting the bed up a bit so his partner could sit 
and talk to him.  Several times Skinner had to shoo 
away the groups of well-wishers threatening to 
overwhelm Mulder with their numbers.  Even his 
welcomed visitors were too much for the young man.  
Just when Skinner decided to call an end to the visitors, 
the generators came on -- distraction enough to occupy 
everyone's time.  Mulder began to fidget again, knowing 
what was to come outside.  

"Is he still out there?" 

"McMurray?"  Skinner adjusted the bed his partner was 
on, lowering it down to the sleeping position.  "He must 
be, Mulder.  They would have seen him come back." 

Mulder nodded, pressing his head into the pillow with 
a sigh that made him wince slightly.  "But he'll have to." 

"Eventually.  Don't worry about him.  After what he 
tried, with the whole complex keeping an eye out,
he'd have to be invisible to get back inside."  Skinner 
pulled the blanket up to Mulder's shoulders and pushed 
it closer around his sides.  

"Walter?" 

"Yeah?"  He sat on the edge of the bed and suppressed 
a yawn.  

Mulder reached out and fingered the blanket.  "You saved
 my life out there." 

Skinner put a hand on his partner's leg and smiled.  

"No, I mean it."  Mulder looked up and sniffled.  "I really 
freaked out there.  I could have killed both of us." 

"You didn't freak, Mulder." 

Mulder shook his head.  "Yes, I did." 

"You acted perfectly normal in the situation." 

"In the situation?"  Mulder's eyebrows creased and 
he laughed shortly.  "That's one situation I don't
ever want to be in again." 

Skinner sighed, gripping the knee under his hand. 
"Listen, Mulder.  You have nothing to be upset about."
He held his partner's gaze, looking into emotions that 
could easily have been his years ago.  "You held 
up better under those circumstances than anyone else 
could have.  No, I mean it."  He gripped Mulder's knee 
to make him understand he was being serious.  "Mulder, 
when you look at a situation, you have to judge it based 
on your own experiences, not anyone else's." 

Mulder shook his head.  His lower lip pushed out slightly
 in denial.  "You weren't trying to claw your way out of 
that shell." 

"No.  No, I wasn't.  Thanks to you, I didn't have time 
for that."  Skinner paused, waiting for his friend to 
look up again.  "But that time I was alone, when I was 
alone out there waiting to die, with my radioman in
pieces around me, and my friend's hand clutching
my arm..."  He had to swallow hard to force the memory 
back down.  "Back then, I had nothing but time."  Mulder 
met his gaze.  "And no one there to help me." 

Slowly, almost reluctantly, the younger man nodded his 
consent.  

"I think it's time for you to get some sleep."  Skinner 
examined the monitor cuff and depressed a button,
injecting a dose of analgesic strong enough to keep 
his friend asleep for several hours.  The gentle hiss 
of spray was followed by a green light and dosage 
record.  "OK?" 

Mulder nodded again and sighed deeply, pressing 
his head into the pillow.  Before Skinner could move
off the bed, his partner reached out and snagged the 
corner of his sleeve.  "Just ...will you stay in here?" 

"I'll be right here, in the next bed." 

"Walter?"  Mulder swallowed, blinking eyes heavy 
with the encroaching sedation.  

"Yeah?"  Skinner leaned closer and smoothed some hair 
from his friend's face.  "What is it?" 

The battle to keep his eyes open raged on, but Mulder 
was losing.  "Thank you." 

Skinner smiled, watching the younger man fight to 
stay awake.  "You're welcome, my friend."  He gave the
blankets one last adjustment.  "Get some sleep." 

Mulder's battle ended with a slight nod and a sigh as
sleep finally overcame him.  Skinner moved to the next 
bed and sat down, stretching.  He kicked off both shoes, 
slid out of his pants and tossed his shirt over the back of 
the chair, then reached up to dim the main lights.  As he 
did, a glint of gold caught his eye.  Scully's necklace 
reflected the overhead lights off its shiny surface, where 
the metal peeked through the fingers draped over it in a 
sleeping embrace.  

"Good dreams, Mulder."  From both of us.

*****************************************

With his right arm tucked protectively against his injured 
side, Mulder eased his legs over the edge of the bed.  A 
stabbing pain made him inhale sharply, but faded when 
he remained still for a few moments.  He was a little 
dizzy even on the bed, and sweat threatened to bead up 
on his face as he sat there.  God, why did it hurt more 
now than it had that night?  Aaron and Skinner both 
told him he'd been in shock, and not feeling everything.  
So the amount of pain he was in now should be a good
indication he was getting better, if that logic held up.  

Mulder inhaled slowly and deeply, testing his injury. 
He'd been promised his freedom from the med lab this 
morning, providing he was fit enough to make the 
short journey back to the basement.  There was no 
way he was spending another night in this place.  
He hated the med lab.  He hated waking up in the 
white room with the lights in the ceiling and no 
color anywhere.  And a voice telling him he'd
been in an accident.  

"No."  Not this time.  This time he'd woken up to
find Skinner right there, keeping his word like always.
He let the breath out gently and listened to the sounds 
his partner was making in the bathroom a few feet 
away.  Aaron had checked him out a few minutes 
ago, but the promise of going home had again been due 
to the fact that Skinner had some medical training.  
Mulder was again grateful for his friend's many talents.  

Any longer in this place and he was sure the 
nightmares would start all over again.  He'd wake
up, not to Skinner, but to a disembodied voice, 
explaining to him why he was alone.  Why no one else 
was there.  Why he had no memory of anyone, no 
thoughts of people the computer said were dead.  No 
evidence of anyone ever having been there.  Nothing 
but a gash on his head, and an emptied memory.  
Nothing.  Not even ...  

"Walter?"  If he stayed here -- if he woke up in here 
one more time -- it could happen again!  He could
forget all over again!  "Walter?" 

"Yeah, Mulder?  What is it?" 

Startled, Mulder looked up.  His heart was pounding 
in his chest.  "I -- I need to use the bathroom.  Are
you almost done in there?" 

Skinner tossed aside the towel he was drying his hands 
with and stepped forward.  "I'm done.  Hang on,
let me help you."  He reached out and took Mulder by 
the left arm, easing him off the bed.  

"Can we go back to the basement soon?"  He had to 
walk slowly to keep from reacting to the pain in his
side.  If Skinner thought he wasn't strong enough, 
he'd make him stay here.  

Skinner laughed, and Mulder looked at him quizzically.
"It's just you -- and the basement."  He laughed again.
"Your office is in the basement of the Hoover building.
Just seems so normal to me that you want to go back."
He squeezed his friend lightly.  

"So, can we go?"

"As soon as you're ready."  Skinner held Mulder's 
arm until they reached the bathroom, then he stood in
the doorway.  "Just move real slowly, all right?  I'm 
right here if you need anything." 

Mulder nodded, then moved the door enough to step 
behind it.  There was no real need to close it, since 
they were the only ones in the lab at the moment.  And 
if he left it open a few feet, he could use the knob to 
steady himself with.  "I'm OK.  I just want to go home." 

"Yeah, I hear that."  Skinner remained close to the 
open door while he got dressed.  "Listen, Mulder, for
the next week or so, I want you to stay inside." 

Mulder finished his business, then leaned on the 
counter in front of the sink to catch his breath.  

"You need to rest for at least a week.  No working 
on the 'cat or hiking on the ice.  Got it?" 

"Yeah."  He gazed into the mirror and was slightly 
surprised at how pale he still looked.  The dark stubble 
of his beard seemed to make his complexion even more
wan.  Maybe it was the lighting?  Medical lighting made 
everyone look twice as sick as they really were.  Or maybe
it was the T-shirt he was in.  Wearing only boxers and a 
shirt to bed was his custom, but he hated white! 

"I don't want you to worry, but until we find McMurray, 
I don't want you wandering off by yourself." 

Mulder turned on the tap and shoved his hands under 
the cool water.  They were shaking.  "I wasn't by myself 
when he did it."  Suddenly he remembered something. 
He turned and pushed the door open quickly, then 
hissed at the stabbing pain that action caused.  Skinner 
threw him a stern look of reprimand and reached out 
to take his forearm.  "Walter, what happened to Tom?" 

"I told you to move slowly." 

He shook his head, ignoring the scolding.  "What 
happened to Tom?  Is he OK?" 

"He's fine."  Skinner held Mulder's arm and creased 
his eyebrows together, adding some small emphasis
to his statement.  "McMurray knocked him cold, 

that's all.  He woke up under one of his cabinets in a
panic over what happened." 

Mulder let out a breath of relief, then tucked his arm 
back against his throbbing side and accepted the stern 
look.  "Good." 

"He was with the rescue party, in fact."  Skinner 
released his hold, then pointed at the still-running 
water.  "You don't remember that, do you?" 

"No."  He turned back to the sink and put his hands
under the stream again.  There wasn't much of anything 
he wanted to remember about that night.  He nearly died, 
and Walter saved him.  Everything else was forgettable.  

"Well, Tom was there.  Along with nearly everyone else." 
Skinner stepped away from the door for a moment, 
then returned, pulling a shirt down over his head.  
"Mulder, I didn't really want to bring this up until 
you were feeling better..." 

Mulder finished splashing water on his face and 
reached for a towel.  He could see his partner's face
reflected in the mirror as he dried off.  

"It's about the habitat.  The shield.  It failed." 

He froze, the face towel hanging down from a damp chin. 
Mulder let the towel fall to the counter and turned around, 
afraid to meet Skinner's gaze.  He'd had no right to get 
involved in Skinner's business, but he'd done it out of 
concern.  Surely he had to realize that?  He had a sudden
flash of a conversation about people wanting credit for 
their work.  Did Skinner think he had been trying to
steal the shield?

Skinner raised a hand, stopping Mulder when he looked up.  
"It's OK.  I just wanted you to know." 

Mulder swallowed hard, searching those dark eyes for 
some kind of reading.  He was never going to get the 
hang of interpreting this body language crap.  It just 
baffled him completely.  "I didn't want to bother you 
with it unless something worked out, which obviously 
it didn't.  Honest, Walter, I was just trying to help.  I
wouldn't steal from you, really."    

"Just hold on."  Skinner had to raise both hands in 
order to stop Mulder's ranting.  "I told you, it's OK."
He paused, then lowered his hands.  "I understand why 
you did it.  And I didn't think you were trying to steal
it, not by a long shot.  I appreciate it.  Really, I do." 

Mulder's eyebrows arched as he searched Skinner's face 
for the sign that should have indicated his thoughts.  
The man was so hard to read, until he came out and 
said something.  "You do?" 

"Sure.  You wanted to help."  Skinner turned and walked 
back to the chair where Mulder's clothes were draped, 
picked up the pants and shirt, and carried them over.  
"Anyway, there's something else you should know." 

Relieved, Mulder accepted the pants and slowly pulled 
them on, trying hard not to move too quickly.  "What's 
that?" 

"The solution to the problem -- the reason that shield 
held out as long as it did -- was yours." 

If he hadn't been leaning against the door jamb, Mulder 
knew he would have fallen straight over.  His face 
felt suddenly cold.  "I don't -- I don't understand." 
He stared at his partner, disbelieving what he'd
just heard.  "But I thought it failed?  And how did 
you even find out I was working on the algorithms?  
I don't understand." 

Skinner sighed deeply, then leaned on the end of the 
bed.  "When I was looking for you, in the basement,
I saw your laptop running the application." 

Mulder swallowed hard.  Numbly, he pulled the shirt 
over his arms, trying to buy some time to think.  "Walter, 
that shield failed."  The world was trying to spin around 
him again, but this time it wasn't due to the stabbing 
pain in his side.  Mulder could feel his heart rate pick 
up.  So fast, he wondered if any blood was reaching 
his head.  It certainly didn't feel like it was.  

"Now, hold on."  Skinner was shaking his head.  "There 
could be several reasons for that shield failing when it 
did." 

"How can you say that?"  Mulder held the edge of the 
door for balance, staring back at his friend.  "That 
thing collapsed!" 

"Mulder, the shield failed after *hours.*"  Skinner got 
up and walked to him.  "Maybe the generator wasn't 
strong enough to manage the new settings."  He reached 
for the shirt still hanging off Mulder's arms then 
helped pull it over his head and down.  

"Or maybe my calculations were way off base." He tugged 
the shirt down, then winced when the action caused a shot 
of pain to course through his side.  

"You don't know that."  Skinner gripped Mulder's arm.  
"We'd been using that shield generator for testing
all week.  It could have failed because of that.  It could 
have failed because the new settings were causing too 
much of a draw.." 

"Or it could have failed because I don't know what 
I'm doing."  He shook his head, but didn't pull out of
Skinner's supporting hold.  "No."  Mulder shook his 
head and reached out to take a handful of his friend's 
shirt, then walked out of the bathroom using that to 
steady himself.  "I had no business messing with the
thing."                                                 

Skinner stopped when they reached the beds and 
drew Mulder's attention, looking him in the eyes with a
puzzled expression.  "I dunno, Mulder.  I, for one, am
pretty glad you were messing with it." 

"It was a mistake.  I'm sorry."  The only thing holding 
up their departure was his shoes, which he managed to 
slip into without bending or leaning over.  

Skinner sighed, then reached out again and took Mulder's 
arm, leading him out of med lab.  They started down the 
corridor, slowly making their way back home through the
people hurrying about the business of the day.  "There was 
nothing to lose by trying, Mulder." 

"There was you." 

"You're wrong, Mulder."  Skinner reached out and palmed 
open the door to the basement steps.  "You're not going to 
lose me.  I told you that.  I'm here for the duration." 

"I was wrong to try and help in the first place."  kinner
didn't understand what he was like, didn't know how 
confused he got sometimes, when the voice got loud, or
the nightmares got bad.  Or did he?  

"I'm beginning to think I was wrong to bring this up 
right now."  They reached their door and Skinner 
punched the key code into the lock.  

"No, I'm sorry."  Mulder stopped in the doorway and shook 
his head.  "I just -- it's not easy for me.  Not anymore."  God, 
he was tired all of a sudden!  Why did he always get himself 
into these conversations when he wasn't ready for them?  
There was just too much to learn now that he wasn't alone.  
Skinner stood waiting patiently, just inside the doorway 
Mulder was blocking, and looked him in the eye.  But 
instead of the frustrated reprimand he was expecting, his 
friend's expression was gentle.  

"It's not your fault, Mulder.  I understand." 

Weariness tugged at Mulder's mind like a lead weight,
dragging him forward to where a soft, warm bed awaited.  
"Yeah."  He knew full well no one understood, but he could 
appreciate Skinner's attempt.  

"Listen."  Skinner put a hand on Mulder's arm and directed 
him toward the bedrooms, but giving in as Mulder veered 
toward their sitting area.  "We can talk about this later.  
Whatever happened with the shelter, it's over now.  I want 
you to get some rest." 

Mulder moved to the living area slowly, passing the 
galley on his way.  Almost immediately, his stomach 
reacted.  "I'm starving."  Beside him, Skinner chuckled, 
pointing to the couches.  

"Well, you did sleep through a full day.  Get comfortable, 
I'll fix us some breakfast." 

With his partner's help, Mulder eased himself down 
into the couch and turned sideways, resting his legs 
down the length of the seat.  This position left him 
facing the galley, comfortably surrounded by pillows.  
Skinner made coffee first, and handed Mulder a cup to 
hold off his growling stomach while breakfast was 
prepared.  He savored the warm liquid, noting the mild 
taste of chocolate while watching his friend cook. 
The feeling of comfort and safety surrounded Mulder 
like a welcomed homecoming, cementing his release 
from that shelled prison and the long, dark night of fear.

"Mulder, when McMurray grabbed you in the bay,
did you get a look at who was with him?" 

"No."  A shudder coursed up his spine with the memory, 
then he shook his head and swallowed, looking at Skinner.  
"I saw them, but I didn't recognize either of them." 

Skinner sighed, stirring the contents of a pan.  "Do you 
think you'd recognize them if you saw them again?" 

Mulder thought back to the moment he saw McMurray 
hit Tom.  There were two other figures there, wearing 
dark clothes.  One of them seemed to have blond hair, 
but both of their faces were a blank.  "I don't know." 

"Did you even see them?" 

"Yeah, I saw them."  Mulder shrugged.  "I think they 
hang out with McMurray all the time, but I've never
cared to know who they were."  He knew that to say 
the men with McMurray looked alike to him would 
sound rude.  He knew that people were different, but
with a few notable exceptions -- Walter being the 
biggest -- he simply hadn't bothered to learn to tell 
many of these people apart.  

"All right, can you tell me what exactly happened?" 
Skinner filled two plates with huge meat-filled
omelets.  "You remembered McMurray knocking Tom 
out.  Then what?" 

Mulder shifted in the couch and rested his cup on one leg.  
They hadn't talked about this yet, and he wasn't sure it 
would do any good to talk about it now.  "When I saw the 
one hit Tom, I came out to stop them and McMurray hit me." 
He shrugged.  "The next thing I remember, I was ..."   He 
had to swallow hard to continue, forcing the words out.  
"I was outside, it was late, past time for the cycle to start,
the tracker was running, but locked, and McMurray was
gone."  Skinner handed him a plate that he took with 
shaking hands.  

"Did you hear him talking to the others?  Maybe he 
mentioned a name or something?"  Skinner sat on the
couch next to him and set his plate on the low table 
in front of him.  

"No."  Mulder lifted his fork and stabbed the omelet 
before the utensil could shake out of his grip.  "What 
does it matter?  If you catch McMurray, you'll catch the 
others."  He'd rather imagine McMurray and his partners 
dead, since they'd stayed out last night.  If they weren't 
dead now, they soon would be.  

Skinner inhaled deeply and sat back.  "When he came 
back, we only found McMurray in the tracker.  He 
either stopped before the complex and let his partners 
out, or they stayed behind somewhere else."  He shrugged 
and speared a section of omelet.  "And he had help 
getting out of here.  Which means we can assume his 
partners were back here in the complex all night." 

"But they're gone now.  They can't come back without 
being seen, right?  I mean, everyone here knows who 
they are." 

"True.  As soon as they're seen, they'll be caught." 

"Then what?  Will there be a trial or something?" 
Mulder finished his breakfast and leaned over slightly
to set the plate down.  The motion brought a sharp 
pain to his side that made him wince.  

"That's something we'll have to figure out."  Skinner 
stood and retrieved the plate, then reached out with
his free hand and rested it on Mulder's forehead.  

"I'm fine." 

"You need rest, Mulder." 

"What about the trial?"   Mulder endured the nursing, 
and the quick flash of memory the touch brought
back.  There was woman, soft hands gently touching
his forward, her face lifted up, her brow pressed against
his own.  And then it was gone.  But he was safe here.  
It was over.  As long as Walter was here, he was safe.  
The hand testing his forehead for fever ran over his 
head then gave his shoulder a pat.  

"I *do* have some experience in police work.  They 
didn't bring me along for my abilities to enforce the 
law and keep people safe.  But they'll have to put up 
with it."  Skinner carried the dishes to the galley and 
ran some water.  "Though I haven't been very good at 
it lately." 

Startled, Mulder looked up.  "Walter, this wasn't your..." 

Skinner stopped him with a raised hand.  "Yes, it was.  
I got so caught up in that shield I let my guard down.  
McMurray's been showing all the signs and I ignored 
them.  I know, you were handling the situation.  But 
that's no excuse for my letting it continue." 

Mulder sighed and pressed into the cushions behind him.  
He knew Skinner hadn't taken McMurray or his pals 
seriously because their hatred had been directed at him. 
That wasn't his Skinner's fault.  No one took things too 
seriously when it concerned him.  He knew that, and he 
was used to it.  In fact, he was sure that was the way 
things had always been.  Surely there was no fault in 
that?  It just was.  

"But since we now have the situation, we'll have to create a
system to deal with it."  Skinner shrugged and shoved a plate 
under the soapy water.  "Attempted murder is a good place 
to start as any." 

Mulder picked up a piece of his shirt and ran the hem 
through two fingers.  It wasn't the sweatshirt Skinner 
had given him, but it was something to occupy his hands.  
"What if I hadn't been here?"  He looked up, then back down 
again.  

"What do you mean?"  Skinner held the last plate up, toweled
it, then shoved it in the cupboard.  

"I mean, when you came down.  When all of you got here.  
If I hadn't even been here, do you think McMurray or the 
others would have ever committed a crime?"  He looked up 
again and found Skinner staring at him, eyebrows creased.  

"Mulder, if you hadn't been here, a hell of a lot of us would 
have died when the creatures came that first night.  God 
knows how many.  Why are you -- how can you think 
you're the cause of McMurray's violent nature?" 

Mulder shrugged and looked back at the hem of the shirt
he was clutching.  He should have known better than to 
expect anyone to understand.  

"All right, you know what?  You need to get some sleep." 
Skinner pulled the plug that would empty the sink, then 
came around the galley counter toward him.  

"I'm just being realistic."  Where was the harm in that?  

"You're being fatalistic.  Something my Mulder always
does.  Come on, I'll give you a hand getting into bed." 
Skinner stood at the side of the couch, and reached down 
with one hand.  

"No, I'm fine here."  Mulder shook his head.  "I'm not
tired." 

"You need to rest." 

"I can rest here."  He looked up and arched both 
eyebrows, pleading his case.  "Really, I'm fine right
here."  Skinner stared over his head as he considered
 the request.  Perhaps a change of subject would
gain him some time.  "What are you going to do?" 

"I've got some work to do."  Skinner gestured to the 
table at the other side of the room.  "I need to go over 
those maps we made of the caves, and I wanted to study 
the new data Peters brought back from his trip out." 

"You're not working on the shield, then?"  Mulder tried 
not to hold his breath waiting for the answer.  

"No."  Skinner shook his head once, sharply.  "Wolf has
the habitat in the lab.  I'd just as soon he worked on it 
right now." 

Mulder looked up, mentally releasing the breath he'd 
been trying not to hold.  The look he found on his friend's 
face suggested something he hadn't even considered.  "I 
thought -- I figured you'd want to study the new settings, 
seeing as how you just saw it work and all."  The thought 
of even seeing that machine again gave Mulder a chill, 
but he figured with some effort, he could at least be in 
the same room with it again...  maybe.  

Skinner pressed his lips into a frown and shook his head, 
looking just a little puzzled by the question.  "I'm not in 
any hurry to work on that thing again.  Not after what we 
just went through.  I need a break right now."  He sighed, 
then nodded toward the table.  "OK, you get time out 
here for good behavior.  But only a few hours." 

"Thanks."  Numbly, he nodded as his friend walked 
around the couch, but his confusion soon gave way 
to a strong sense of selfishness.  All this time, he'd 
assumed that night of terror had happened to him.  
Skinner had been the hero; he had been the victim.  
Only now was he beginning to see the truth.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment, pushing those 
thoughts out of his mind.  When he opened them again, he 
was looking at the table where his partner sat, pouring over 
data and landscape images.  A glint of silver flashed in Skinner's 
hand.  Mulder focused and saw his little statue, and watched it 
twirl idly through his partner's fingers.  Skinner's attention was 
completely absorbed by the sheet he was studying, while his hand 
gently turned the small figure over and over.  

Mulder reached up and felt the cross resting against his 
chest.  If he ran his finger very lightly over the back, he 
could feel the tiny transmitter secured there.  He knew 
that was the only thing that had allowed Skinner to find 
him in time that night, and he was again glad he'd decided 
not to argue the invasion.  Now he knew what he had to do.  
But knowing was only half of it.  

"OK, Mulder, I think it's time you went to bed." 

"What?"  Mulder looked up and suddenly became aware 
of his partner standing right beside the couch.  

"You've been out here nearly four hours, and asleep for 
most of them."  Skinner nodded down the hall.  "I want 
you to get some decent sleep." 

He wanted to argue, but he couldn't.  The fatigue was 
overpowering.  Slowly, with Skinner's assistance,
Mulder managed to get off the couch.  The wounds on 
his side were trying to heal, but the injury was still 
fresh enough to be very painful.  He made a quick visit 
to the bathroom, then allowed his friend to help him 
undress and ease into bed.  By then, the pain was constant.  
Skinner administered a dose of the painkiller Aaron 
prescribed and Mulder felt himself quickly began to relax.  

"If you wake up and need anything, just call out, all right?" 
Skinner pulled the blankets up to Mulder's chest and 
tucked them in around his sides.  "I'll leave the door 
between the rooms open a bit." 

"Thanks."  He blinked and felt the drugs wash through
his body, then opened his eyes again to make sure he'd 
actually said that.  Skinner was still there, smiling down 
at him.  "Walter, about the other night, I --"  Suddenly 
a massive yawn stopped his sentence.  

"You're welcome.  Now go to sleep."  Skinner reached 
out and smoothed back the hair from Mulder's forehead, 
then reached up, palmed off the room's lights, and started
to leave.    

Mulder sighed deeply, letting the waves of drug-induced 
sedation wash through him.  "Stay?" he asked, hating himself
for his need, but not willing to be alone again.  

"Of course."  The hand was back on his forehead, gentle 
and warm.  "I'll be right back."

Mulder nodded, then closed his eyes, waiting.  After a few
minutes, he rolled over to his right just enough to protect 
his injured side.  From that angle, he could see the sculpture 
on his night stand, the dull gray figure watching over him 
as he slept.  Something else caught his eye as well.  Skinner
was back, climbing into the bed behind him.

"You don't mind?" Mulder had to lick his lips and concentrate
against the drug in order to speak.  He was too tired to concern 
himself with anything other than making sure Skinner wasn't
angry. 

One strong hand touched his back, rubbing lightly, then an
arm lay over his hip, pulling him close without touching his
wound.  "I don't mind." 

He nodded at the other man's reply, then looked back at the 
sculpture watching him.  The sedative was winning the 
battle quickly.  

"You're safe, Mulder.  Nothing can hurt you here." 

"I know." Mulder sighed once, then felt his mind let go 
completely and drifted into the warm comfort of sleep.  

**************************************************

He awoke to a view of the ceiling, and a powerful aching 
in his side.  

"Hey, Mulder, you awake?"  Skinner pushed the door 
open enough to see through, then opened it further
and stepped inside.  "How're you feeling this morning?" 

"I'm OK."  Mulder wrapped his left arm around his
injury, then swung his legs around and over the
edge of the bed, using that momentum to sit up.  
The pain that motion caused made him dizzy.  "Man.
Why does it hurt more now than it did that night?" 
He felt Skinner's hand on his shoulder and opened
eyes he'd shut tightly against the discomfort.  

"You were in shock then."  Skinner felt Mulder's 
forehead, then nodded toward the door and helped 
him stand.  "The human body is an amazing thing. 
 Just like the mind." 

With Skinner's help, Mulder managed to walk to 
the bathroom and gain some control over the dizzy 
spell as the pain eased into a deep throbbing.  

"Take your time in there and I'll get breakfast ready." 

"Thanks."  Mulder nodded his gratitude and pushed 
the door far enough closed for modesty without actually 
latching it shut.  He really wanted a shower.  It had been 
several days now, even though he'd been cleaned up in 
the med lab, but a sponge bath had done nothing to wipe 
away the long hours of fear.  That kind of sweat 
required hot water and soap.  Slowly, he eased the 
shirt up over his head, then tossed it aside and gazed 
at the mirror over the sink.  Dark hairs were doing 
their best to roughen up his chin and cheeks, matching 
the color of disheveled hair strewn about his head.  
He didn't even want to think about his breath.  

As he gazed in the mirror, his eyes caught sight of the 
wounds in his side.  He stared at the reflection,
unwilling to look down at the marks themselves.  
Three thick lacerations running along his ribcage, 
the edges sealed and protected by a thin layer of 
transparent bandaging were a clear indicator the
nightmare had been real.  Instantly his mind flashed 
back into darkness.  Mulder's blood ran cold as the
air was ripped from his lungs in a desperate gasp.  
He was outside!  Alone, but not alone!  It was over, 
but it had only just begun.  The night was dark, the 
moon was shining, and death stood in front of
him, smiling.  

The toothbrush Mulder was holding fell out of 
numbed fingers and hit the sink.  Claws swiped the air
before him, bright white against black, silky skin.  He 
fell and found the pole.  It was his only weapon, but 
it couldn't stop the claws from tearing his flesh.  

"Stop it!"  Mulder clenched his jaw and forced his hands 
to grab the cold sides of the sink, breaking the memory's 
hold on his conscious.  He stared into the mirror, pulling
his eyes away from the injury to stare back at his own 
gaze.  "It's over."  The terror of that night was too fresh, 
too real to even begin to think about.  Any attempts at 
coherent recall shifted immediately into blind panic 
and a shocked, numb feeling.  

He turned on the water and held his shaky hands under
the spout, staring down at the stream as it poured out.  
Skinner was probably able to analyze everything they'd 
been through that night, running it all back through his 
mind in minute detail.  Mulder was barely able to accept 
the reality of what he'd been through.  He just wanted 
desperately to build a wall up around the experience 
and never peer over the top of it again.  

Skinner was alive, he was alive.  They were alive.  
That's all that mattered.  The karmic debt he owed
his friend was going to take a few lifetimes to repay, 
but he'd gladly work toward that goal as long as
he was able.  

With a heavy sigh to push the last of the memory from
his mind's eye, Mulder splashed the warm water over 
his face a few times, brushed his teeth, then stripped 
off his underwear and stepped into the shower.  He 
had to keep the spray from hitting directly over the 
wounds, but the sealing bandage covering them 
prevented moisture from doing any damage.  With 
his back to the water, Mulder stood still and let the 
steaming spray pound the back of his shoulders, 
massaging out the stiffness from sleeping in one 
position all night.  It felt so good, he could have 
stayed there all morning, but the growling of an 
empty stomach refused to be ignored.  

Reluctantly, he turned off the shower and toweled 
off, then wrapped the towel around his waist and
carried his discarded clothes back to the bedroom.  
Getting dressed was more difficult than he thought.  
The pants came on easily enough, and he was willing
enough to forgo socks, but the first three attempts 
to pull the shirt over his head were met with stabbing 
pains each time he raised his right arm.  He thought 
about trying another shirt, but they all went on the 
same way.  

"Great."  Mulder sighed and stared down at the shirt 
draped over both forearms.  There was no other
way, unless he wanted to go shirtless.  "Hey, Wal --" 
Skinner's sudden appearance in the doorway
startled the request right out of him.  

"Right here.  You need some help, Mulder?"  Skinner 
walked straight over and took hold of the offending
shirt, lifting it up Mulder's arms so he could hold the 
opening level with the other man's head.  

Mulder ducked into the shirt, then pulled it down over
his chest and back.  "Thanks." 

"You're welcome."  Skinner helped straighten the shirt 
down then grinned.  "It's amazing what you can't do 
sometimes.  Aaron sent over some painkillers if you 
need them." 

"No, I'm OK."  The last thing he wanted was to sleep 
for a week.  "As long as I don't move around too much." 

"No chance of that while I have anything to say about it.  
Come on, breakfast is ready." 

"Great, I'm starved."  Mulder followed his friend out to 
the table as enthusiastically as he could manage.  Smells 
greeted him on the way and his stomach sent back a loud, 
somewhat embarrassing response.  "Sorry." 

"Why?  You slept through dinner yesterday.  Eat up." 
Skinner poured the coffee, then sat down in the opposite 
chair.  "You must have slept well last night, I didn't hear 
a thing." 

Mulder shook his head and had to speak around a thick 
slice of bacon.  "There weren't any nightmares last night." 

"Good." 

"No."  He shook his head again and reached for the coffee 
to wash down the meat.  When he'd finished, he looked up.  
"It's strange.  After ...  I mean, it must have been the 
sedative."  He stabbed his fork into another thick slice of 
bacon and tried hard not to think about that night as he 
spoke.  "Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking it."  The 
bacon hovered on the end of his fork as he hastened
to qualify his remark.  "I just -- it surprised me, that's 
all." 

Skinner nodded over the rim of his cup.  "I think we'll 
all sleep better once McMurray and his group are
caught." 

Mulder chewed the meat and considered the possibility 
of his attackers surviving away from the complex.  He 
couldn't really fathom it, but they had taken a tracker.  
The vehicle would provide adequate protection in time 
of need.  Damn.  "So, there's been no sign of him?" 

"Not yet." Skinner set the cup down and stabbed a 
chunk of fruit.  "It's just a matter of time." 

They finished their breakfast with a discussion of the 
law enforcement and what should be done about McMurray.
Mulder commented on the FBI in general, noting that all
Skinner's clothes seemed to be emblazoned with its logo.  

"Not all, Mulder."  He lifted his sweatshirt to reveal a
navy T-shirt, with the Marine Corps emblem over the
left breast. 

"Marine?  How long ago was that?"

"Once a Marine, always a Marine.  There are no ex-Marines."  
Skinner dropped the sweatshirt and moved to collect the dishes.  
He insisted Mulder remain where he was while he cleaned up 
after their meal.  Willingly, Mulder sat back and helped himself 
to a second cup of coffee.  

"Do all your clothes proclaim your affiliations?"  He was 
thinking of the sweatshirt Skinner had put on him, that day
that seemed so long ago now.  He still didn't want to refer to 
it as his shirt, for fear his partner would remember the loan 
and want it back.  

"Well, yeah.  I do tend to proclaim my allegiances."  Skinner 
stacked the plates and carried them to the galley sink.  "I came 
home from the war, went to school -- there are a couple of my
college sweatshirts in there too -- and then joined the Bureau.
For the most part, it was a good decision."  He smiled with 
the memory as water filled the sink.  "It wasn't until I got
promoted and assigned to head the VCS that things got
weird and started falling apart." 

"Falling apart?" Mulder's eyebrows creased as he tried to
imagine that concept.  "How does the FBI fall apart?" 

Skinner dunked both hands into the soapy water.  "Not
the FBI, really.  Just my beliefs, the things I had believed
in.  It was slow, at first."  He shrugged.  "And you had a lot
to do with it.  You and Scully."

"I'm sorry." 

"Hey, it's not all bad.  You two performed some incredible 
things, solved cases that would never have been solved.  And
if my basic belief system had to be shaken up, so be it.  I've
never been one to bury my head in the sand." 

Mulder asked about some of those cases and was treated to 
nearly an  hour of his life's history -- though he was sure 
Skinner was inventing some of the things he heard.  A man
who needed to eat human livers to survive?  A slug that was
half human?  A town full of vampires?  He was ready to 
challenge Skinner on his vivid imagination when the 
older man called an end to the activity, insisting Mulder 
rest.  With a promise of inactivity and book reading, he 
was allowed to remain on the couch while Skinner again 
worked at the table, studying the maps and taking the 
occasional call from the complex to discuss various issues 
Mulder took no interest in.  

By lunch, his ability to move around unaided and even 
lift his own plate with minimum discomfort gained 
Mulder a place at the worktable opposite Skinner.  He 
enjoyed their setup at the wide workbench, and the ease 
with which he could work on his own projects while 
sharing a space with his partner.  As unconscious as it 
was, their ability to share tools without asking and 
work long hours in each other's company was 
something Mulder found himself pondering on 
occasion.  

It helped give him something to focus on while he 
sorted through the small pieces of the odd metal he 
had gathered.  It was common up here, and over
the time he had been alone, he had collected a number
of pieces of all sizes and shapes.  He only needed a 
small piece for what he had in mind, but making it
work was the hard part.  Not to mention a long shot. 
The idea that he could get Skinner to agree...
The man was so -- spare -- so -- unencumbered in 
his appearance.  Nothing really plain about him, but 
he didn't go for anything fancy or unnecessary 
either. Anyway, all he had to do was ask.  Explain 
the reasons, and ask.  Simple enough.  But that meant 
there had to be a reason.  Which there was, but just 
how good of a reason was it, considering?  

"Whatcha workin' on, Mulder?" 

Mulder looked up, startled out of his concentration.  
"Oh, ah, just puttering."  He glanced at the shape in 
his hand, then pushed it back out of sight with his 
thumb.  "Just messing around.  I used to, you know,
make things.  To pass the time." 

Skinner laughed shortly and reached for his nearly 
empty cup.  "I bet you're pretty good at anything 
you tackle." 

Mulder shrugged and swallowed his next sentence.  
He wasn't ready to try his luck just yet.  He watched 
his partner walk to the galley and start another pot 
of coffee, then turned his attention back to the metal 
in his hands. 

When Skinner returned, he'd filled his own cup and a
second one that he deposited beside Mulder before 
returning to his seat and another two hours of quiet 
study.  As the twelfth hour grew near, the silver
medallion had been created, destroyed, recreated, and
destroyed a dozen times, as its maker changed his 
mind over and over again.  

Twice, Mulder found the right piece, and attached a
tiny back.  It had to be perfectly shaped, small and 
unobtrusive, thin enough not to be overtly noticed, 
but thick enough to pass as the medal he intended it 
to be.  He'd think he was done, then he'd spot Skinner 
admiring the piece and chicken out completely, breaking 
the stem, or melting the epoxy backing.  By the time 
dinner was ready, he was quite convinced of his foolishness.  
While they ate, he fingered the now thrice-completed 
medal and listened to Skinner's conclusions about 
the terrain in the immediate north.  When the dishes 
had been cleared, and another call from Peters dealt 
with, he knew he had to try.  


**********************
Iced  08/15

"So, are you going to tell me what's been eating at 
you all day, or do I have to try and guess?"  Skinner
had ended the call and was leaning against the table,
looking down at Mulder.  

"I, um..."  OK, deep breath.  Mulder looked up and 
sighed, hoping he could at least give enough credence 
to his attempt to make the thing believable.  Such as it was. 
"This is going to sound pretty stupid, I'm sure." 

Skinner shrugged.  "Try me." 

The silver medal in his hand caught a flash from the 
overhead lights.  "I remember this tradition, sort of, 
from -- before.   I remembered it the other day, kinda, 
and I -- look, this is probably really lame to you, I'm 
sure.  I mean, you were in the war.  And this isn't like 
that.  Well, it is but ... well, I mean you ..."  God, this 
wasn't going well!

Mulder inhaled again, as deeply as his injured side 
would allow, and plowed forward.  "I remember this
thing that people did.  When a person saved someone's 
life, then there would be a big ceremony, in honor of their
bravery, right?"

Skinner nodded. 

"And, well, during this thing, the tradition was, the person 
who was brave, they got a medal.  Right?"  He was talking 
too fast, he knew.  Dry throat, racing heart, fear of rejection.  
It was a classic reaction.  Only Skinner wasn't mocking him.  
Well, not yet.  He was just standing there, with a sort of half 
smile on his face, waiting for the ramblings to conclude.  

"OK, so they did this as a way of paying respect to the 
person who saved them, you know?  Kind of a thank you, 
so everyone would know how brave this person was, and 
how grateful the guy who was saved felt."  He took a breath 
and looked at the silver in his hands.  "So, anyway, I was
kinda hoping, if you don't think you'd mind -- but I'd 
understand if you did, I mean, it's not like this is a real
thing or anything, and you may not even know what the 
hell I'm talking about, or care -- but I wanted to...  I
mean..."  Mulder grimaced at the sound of his own hesitancy. 
While he paused, Skinner reached out and took the small
silver pin from his hand.  

"So, you want to give me this?"  He gazed at the small bit of 
metal, turning it around in his fingers as the silver caught 
the light.  "As a way to show your gratitude for what I did?" 

Mulder swallowed hard and nodded, waiting for the rejection.

"And you want me to wear it?"

Mulder nodded again.  

Skinner's lips pursed in thoughtfulness, then slowly he
nodded.  "OK." 

"Really?"  Mulder looked up, startled by the answer.  
"Um, great, let me..."  He took the medal and stood 
as quickly as he could, then pointed to the work table.  
"I need the back." 

Skinner followed, then took a seat at the table, watching
Mulder.  "Is this why you have that statue?  Same type 
thing?" 

"Um, no.  I don't think so."  Mulder shrugged one
shoulder as he carefully worked the medal through
Skinner's shirt, then attached the little clutch back.  

"You don't think so?" 

"I don't remember, exactly.  I think someone gave
it to me." 

"How does it look?" 

"Go see for yourself."  Skinner stood and walked to the 
bathroom, but Mulder stayed behind, waiting at the 
worktable.  He'd used the smallest piece of the metal
that he could, hopefully small enough not to be noticed.
Of course, any ornamentation on Skinner was bound to 
be noticed.  The real question was how Skinner was 
going to react when people did notice it.  If anyone made
a fuss over him wearing the thing, he might change 
his mind about wanting it.  

"Not bad, Mulder."  Skinner came out of the bathroom 
still fingering the silver on his chest.  "One more and 
I can have cufflinks made when we get back."

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled.  "I didn't
think you'd like it," he said hesitantly.

Skinner pressed his lips together and shook his head.  
"It's great.  And I thank you.  But now, I think you 
should call it a day." 

"Yeah."  Mulder agreed, then took another look at the 
silver medal and smiled.  He had done a pretty good 
job.  "Are you coming to bed soon?"

"In a little while.  Unless you need ..."  The offer hung
uncompleted in the air.

"Nah.  I'll be OK for a while.  Good night." 

"Good night." 

He gathered his tools and put them away, then used 
the bathroom before going into his room to change.  
The pain in his side had been reduce to a dull 
throbbing that was finally easier to manage. 
Undressing was much easier, but Mulder chose 
to sleep without his customary T-shirt to avoid that
hassle.  Before getting into bed, he rummaged 
through the top drawer of his desk, looking for
the device he was sure he'd put there.  

"Clever, clever, clever.  You're oh, so clever."  

Mulder's head exploded in pain.  The voice was 
back, a mocking refrain centered between his eyes.
Fighting to keep his equilibrium, he murmured,  
"I don't want to talk to you," as he continued his
search.  "Anyway, I had to do it."

Which was precisely why he wanted that monitor.  It 
had to be here somewhere.  

"He'd never have gone for it any other way." 

There it was!  Naturally it was in the last drawer he looked 
in.  Mulder pulled out the small device and flipped it on, 
grateful to find it still working perfectly. 

"What do you know about what Walter would go for?"

He adjusted the sensor readings, then watched as the 
display focused tighter, showing a grid of twenty 
feet in a radius with him as the center.  No more than 
ten feet away, blinking a soft green, was his target.  

"Yep."  Mulder flipped the machine off quickly, not wanting
to be caught at his covert surveillance.  Ignoring the voice,
Mulder flipped off the lights and climbed into bed.  It had
worked, all right.  Just knowing Skinner had accepted his 
reasons and allowed him to give him the medal gave him a
real sense of relief and added security.  As long as the man
would wear it.  And if he found out someday, and didn't like
it, well...  he'd just have to deal with it when it happened.  
In the meantime, they had plenty of other things worry about.  

**********************************************

The next four days passed relatively calmly.  Mulder wasn't 
allowed to leave the basement while his wound was still 
painful enough to keep him moving slowly, so all of Skinner's 
meetings were held in the public workroom.  Twice Peters 
came by to discuss the still-missing McMurray, and to name -- 
by way of elimination -- his accomplices.  All  were 
unfamiliar names, and even after being shown images 
of the three men, Mulder couldn't tell if they had been the 
men he'd seen or not.  He'd been forced to admit that most 
of this new group looked alike to him, with a few exceptions 
that hastily added Peters and the other two men in the room 
at the time.  He just hadn't bothered to try and sort them 
all out.

Peters couldn't understand Mulder's inability to recognize 
people he'd met, but to his relief, Skinner managed to 
provide the colonel a long, rather technical explanation 
that either appeased or confused him.  Either way, he 
accepted it.  

Wolf visited several times to discuss the habitat shield's 
new settings, asking for detailed descriptions of that
time of terror that Mulder was unwilling to provide.  For 
those visits, he remained in his private work room, and 
tried to pretend he didn't know what was being talked 
about just outside his doors.    

The fact that McMurray and the tracker he'd taken 
hadn't been found yet was another topic actively
discussed.  In a meeting that included Peters, Aaron, 
Tom, Amanda and a few other team leaders, Skinner
requested they fit all vehicles with better tracking devices.  
Ones that could not be disabled with the communications 
equipment onboard.  Mulder listened with interest, but 
refrained from making what he knew would be the most 
obvious suggestion.  

"Well, now that the generators are charged, we can get 
some search parties farther out there."  Peters shook his 
head and sighed.  "Though as far as I'm concerned, we're 
only looking for that tracker.  I hate to have the equipment
out in the elements like this.  I *am* going to have to
account for my budget when this project is completed." 

Mulder looked from Tom to Skinner and caught the 
quick but subtle agreement in his partner's eyes
before they shifted to a brooding anger.  

"If McMurray or any of his men are alive, I want justice." 

"Skinner's right."  Peters nodded.  "We can't let this crime 
go unpunished." 

"Unfortunately, people are people, Peters."  Aaron put a 
hand on the Colonel's arm and shook his head.  "No 
matter how many centuries pass, no matter how hard we 
try, you'll never get clear of our potential for violence." 

"I'll settle for just getting it under control."  Skinner 
looked at everyone in the room.  "I think Mulder and I
would like to join in the search." 

Surprised, Mulder looked up but said nothing.  He was
always uncomfortable when he was being talked 
about, but his seat beside Skinner and slightly set 
back from the table gave him a good vantage
point without having to meet many eyes.  

"Are we entirely certain those other three are with 
McMurray?  I mean, no one actually saw them take off
that morning." 

"But we haven't seen them since, either."  Peters 
answered the doctor with a shrug.  "That's one reason
we were able to ID them; they're the only three unaccounted 
for." 

Mulder managed to look at the table in time to miss 
the questioning looks from Aaron and Peters.  He'd
already tried, several times, to explain why he failed 
to take notice of ninety percent of the faces he'd
seen since they all invaded his domain.  

"I can give you a list of the grids the search parties 
have scheduled.  You two can just let us know where 
you look, so we can avoid doubling over you and wasting 
time." 

"Thanks, Tom.  We'll head out in a couple of days.  I'd 
like to get each tracker and 'cat fitted with a new 
tracking device, as a back up, before any of them head 
out." 

"Right, I've got engineering working on that.  Maybe 
something along the lines of what Katherine's
team developed to track one of the creatures?" 

"Did anything ever come of their attempts?" 

"Three failures and one failed unit, but they're 
perfecting the idea as we speak." 

Mulder listened to the conversations that carried on 
through the afternoon, but didn't take part in any
except when asked a question.  There wasn't anything
he could offer by way of advice, and when the topics 
shifted to tagging or tracking one of the creatures, he 
usually excused himself to bring out more drinks or 
food from the galley.  Skinner never seemed perturbed 
by his disappearances, since they never involved 
leaving the basement, and always seemed to know 
when he'd have to move to the side in order to let 
Mulder out of their seating arrangement.  

There hadn't been a single mention about Skinner's 
medal, but Mulder was sure he'd caught people 
looking at it during the meetings.  Whether they'd 
inquired about it when Mulder wasn't there, he didn't
know.  But so far, his partner hadn't mentioned regretting 
the addition.  

Two days after the big meeting, Skinner decided Mulder's
injuries were healed enough for their trip, providing Aaron 
felt the same.  They visited the doctor first thing in the 
morning and got the all-clear, then dropped by the vehicle
bay to get the maps from Tom and request their Snowcat
be readied.

Skinner accepted the maps from the mechanic.  "Any 
luck with the tracking devices?" 

"As a matter of fact, Amanda's here."  Tom grinned 
broadly at Skinner, then Mulder.  "She's made a fantastic
discovery that she thinks will ...  Well, here, she can tell 
you." 

Amanda appeared suddenly from around a stack of
boxes, wearing a grin as wide as Tom's and holding 
up a small instrument and a bit of the silver metal.  
"Skinner!  Perfect timing!  I was just testing out this 
theory and by God, it worked!" 

Mulder glanced at the sensor in Amanda's hand and 
swallowed hard.  Of course.  It made perfect sense,
after all.  But ...  

"What?"  Skinner raised both eyebrows at the looks of 
the geologist and the mechanic.  "What is it you've 
found?" 

"This."  Proudly, Amanda held out small square of the
silver metal.  

Skinner grinned and looked at Mulder, then back at
Amanda.  "Yeah, what about it?" 

"I can't believe I didn't check this sooner.  It's going to 
help a great deal, if Katherine and the others ever get 
to a point where they can tag those creatures.  It won't take 
up any batteries, you see.  It's self-contained.  At least 
for our needs."  Amanda looked back at the silver she 
was holding. "Incredible.  Truly incredible.  And when 
you think about it, so obvious I can't believe it took me 
this long to figure it out." 

Mulder swallowed again and shifted his weight from 
one foot to the other.  The way Amanda was babbling, 
there was a good chance Skinner wouldn't figure this out.  
His partner looked to him for help interpreting the 
geologist's rambling, so he shrugged in reply.  

"Well, it's not too obvious to me, Amanda.  What 
exactly are you talking about?" 

"Start from the beginning, woman.  You've got them 
completely confused."  Tom grinned as he tried to help, 
barely suppressing a laugh at the geologist's enthusiasm.  

"Oh, yes, of course.  Right, right, right.  Well, you 
see, as you know, this metal is unknown, nothing I've
ever seen before.  In fact, I don't think I'd be out of 
line saying it doesn't come from this planet.  Some 
sort of meteor detritus or something." 

"Yes," Skinner agreed.  

"I was pondering what you said, about needing to 
track our equipment.  And I kept coming back to
this.  I didn't know why, at first.  There was something 
there trying to make sense, but I wasn't getting it." 

"Neither am I." 

Amanda continued, unhindered by Skinner's comment. 
"It's the metal.  It has a -- signature -- of sorts.  Each piece
seems to respond to a different frequency." 

Mulder inhaled deeply, bracing himself for what he 
knew now was inevitable.  

"So I got to thinking, if I attuned a remote to the particular
frequency of a piece of this, and then monitored it, I might be
able to track it.  You know, all solid objects resonate at a 
certain frequency, and if you know the proper levels, you 
can literally disintegrate something by bombarding it with 
that frequency.  Of course, destroying it wasn't the
object here, but I did a little experimenting, and voila!" 
Amanda held up the silver square again proudly.
"If you keep an accurate record, to the letter, of the
resonant frequency of the individual piece, you can 
then use the variable seismology sensors to trace the 
exact location of that metal to within three feet!" 

Oh, God.  Mulder swallowed compulsively and focused 
somewhere around Amanda's middle shirt button.  

"Say that again?  You can trace this metal?" 

"If you've kept accurate records of the frequency of the 
piece -- keeping in mind this frequency will vary from 
piece to piece -- then yes.  From what I've learned, if you're 
off by one degree either way, you'll never find it.  But that 
adds a strong level of identity, knowing that no two pieces
will be exact, or will respond to the frequency chain you're 
searching for." 

Mulder had to force himself not to reach up and finger 
the necklace resting against his chest.  He hadn't meant 
for Skinner to find out like this, and certainly not in 
the company of others.  The fact that his partner wasn't 
looking at him assured Mulder he'd figured it all out.  

"That's fantastic, Amanda.  How long would it take you 
to fit all of the vehicles with one of these?" 

"Oh, not long at all.  I could have it done in a few hours, 
actually.  I happen to have a pile of these waiting, just in 
case my theory worked."  Amanda's smile never wavered.  
"Who knows what else this metal can do?" 

"Indeed." 

Mulder looked up out of habit and caught Skinner's gaze.  
His face was, as usual, completely unreadable.

An instant after their eyes met, Skinner's shifted to a 
point over the top of Mulder's head.  "Come on, Mulder.  
Let's get some things packed." 

"You'll be out for a few days, then?" 

Skinner nodded to Tom, then started back toward the basement.  

Mulder waved his own acknowledgment to Tom and
Amanda then followed his partner.  They walked slowly
through the complex, passing only a few people in the halls.  
Skinner said nothing so Mulder remained quiet, and a
half a step back.  His heart was pounding just a little as 
he thought about the potential reactions waiting for him 
when they got to the basement.  Of course, he had a good 
argument.  After all, Skinner had tagged him with a 
tracking device first, and without his consent.  It was only 
fair, after all.  He had just as much right to want to keep 
track of his partner, didn't he?  That night of terror, after 
McMurray had left him to die, made Mulder never want 
to be farther than shouting distance from the only person 
able to protect him ever again.  Skinner was the only one, 
after all, who really gave a damn.  And he'd only done this
because he gave a damn.  That had to count for something.  
Didn't it?  

Mulder was so deep in concentration, he barely noticed 
his partner had stopped at the top of the basement's 
stairs.  He stopped just short of running into Skinner, 
then looked up.  Those eyes were scanning something 
over his head again.  Probably getting ready to kick me 
out or something.  With a sigh, Mulder waited.  

Skinner continued to look out down the hallway.  "So.  
Keeping track of me, are you?" 

Oh, God.  Mulder swallowed, squinting in discomfort.  
"I, ah ... Yeah."  He took the matter-of-fact approach as 
a last resort.  "Yes, I knew about it."  Silence.  Nothing.  
Skinner stood there, gazing out over his head, and 
just nodded.  Slowly, his face changed expression.  As 
Mulder looked up from his spot against the far wall, 
he could have sworn he saw something.  Then the 
dark eyes met his.  

"OK."  Skinner turned and thumbed the keypad, 
then walked into the basement, leaving his partner
gaping behind him.  

Mulder started out of his stupor and hurried to catch up.  
OK?  He followed Skinner through the door and onto
the stairs.  OK.  His heart settled quickly out of its 
heavy thumping as his partner's acceptance registered.  
So they were even now, sort of.  Each keeping track of 
the other in his own way.  Each assuring themselves they 
would never be separated in a time of need again.  Both assured
by the comfort of knowing where the other was when they 
weren't side by side.  

Mulder reached the bottom of the stairs and found 
Skinner in the kitchen.  

"I figure we'll stay out five days this trip, so pack what you 
need.  I'll get the food squared away." 

"OK.  Are you going to want the laptop this time?" 

"Yeah, but I'll get that.  It's heavy."  Skinner straightened 
up from the drawer he'd been peering into and held out 
a finger of warning.  "Just remember, you're still on light 
duty, Mulder.  I'll be keeping an eye on you." 

Mulder grinned at the jab, then nodded.  "Yes, Sir." 

******************************************

It had been a long five days, searching for signs of McMurray 
and his group.  Skinner's first hunch -- that the group had made 
a run for the caves -- had proven wrong.  So they kept looking. 

The trip had accomplished little, except a further mapping of
the regions around the complex, showing them more of the
area as they continued to gather information to use against
the creatures.  About two days out, toward the mountains,
they had found another of the pre-fab buildings with a 
generator capable of putting out subsistence heat only.  
There was no indication that it had been used recently,
and Mulder had no recollection of its original purpose.
It was currently housing spare parts and other supplies, 
including crates of the non-perishable MREs.

Skinner quickly discovered all of his previous attempts 
to ease Mulder outdoors during the late hours had 
been erased by that one spell of sheer and utter terror under 
their tiny habitat.  It wasn't at all surprising, really.  That 
eternity had come close to curing Skinner of even wanting to 
to be outside again.  He couldn't blame the man for flat out 
refusing to venture outside when he felt the least bit threatened.

But, to his credit, he managed being in the 'cat to sleep  
with perfect ease.  As long as the door was locked, the windows 
covered, and Skinner was inside, Mulder was happy.  As 
for suggestions in locating McMurray, the other man was little 
help.  He couldn't fathom anyone leaving the safety of the 
complex and not returning, so he preferred to believe McMurray
and the others were dead.  And he knew if the men ever 
returned to the complex, he was safe now and they'd be 
punished -- end of story.  As complicated as Mulder's life was,
he seemed to prefer thinking of it in very simple terms.  

Sometimes the younger man's level of faith in him made 
Skinner uneasy.  Mulder would look up, with those large, 
gray-green eyes, absorbing everything he said, not always 
understanding, but so damned trusting!  It was unnerving 
and soulwarming at the same time.  His trust and faith gave 
Skinner the exact sense of purpose he'd always wanted out 
of life, but he'd never realized how important that purpose
would be.  How full of responsibility it was.  Or, how 
rewarding.  

"You've got another ten minutes," Mulder called from the 
small habitat they had erected to cook in.  He'd wondered
if the man would ever willingly enter one again, but as
long as it wasn't after Mulder's own self-imposed and still
unexplained time limit, and he wasn't left alone, he was 
fine.  And tomorrow, they'd be back at the complex, to 
meet with Peters and discuss their options. 

"Dinner's up." 

Reluctantly, even with his stomach urging haste, Skinner 
put his book away, and accepted his plate.  A basic stew,
but spiced with herbs and overflowing with vegetables
that made his mouth water just to look at.  

"This is fantastic, Mulder." 

"Thanks."  Mulder took a seat opposite Skinner and 
they began eating.  

After satisfying his initial hunger, Skinner leaned back
and glanced around at the clean, white ice, almost
surreal in its starkness, lit only by the 'cat's running
lights.  "There's a beauty to this emptiness." 

Mulder looked up and shrugged.  "I suppose." 

"You know, Mulder, you're just too cynical."  Skinner 
looked at his friend and shook his head, then waved 
an arm to indicated their surroundings.  "How can you
not see the beauty in this, despite everything?" 

"Maybe I just know this place better than most." 

"Listen, all things considered, your Nihility is a place 
I don't mind at all calling home for a while." 

Mulder met his gaze with creased eyebrows.  "But if 
you'd known exactly what to expect here before
you came, you never would have come." 

Skinner thought for a moment, watching his friend's
face.  He was looking up with those big round
eyes, as faith-filled and trusting as anything Skinner 
had ever seen.  "Mulder, I can honestly say, taking 
into consideration everything I've seen and done here, 
that I'd do it all again without thought, if it meant getting
you home again." 

The surprised expression meeting that statement quickly
morphed into thoughtfulness.  "You're serious, aren't you?" 

"Yep."  Skinner smiled, then reached out for another
helping of stew.  "Besides, where else could I find
food like this, and someone to cook it for me?" 

Mulder laughed shortly and shook his head.  "OK, I 
won't even bother challenging that statement." 

"Good."  Skinner chewed the meat slowly, letting every 
spice and flavor linger on his tongue as long as possible.  
He was getting better at identifying the ingredients without 
having to watch his partner prepare the meal, and enjoyed 
experimenting on his own with their limited resources.  
"You know, this is one thing I can't say I'd have done if I'd 
been alone as long as you were." 

Mulder looked up and cocked his head to one side.  "What's
that?" 

"This."  Skinner held up his bowl.  "I mean, I like to cook 
when I have the chance, and I can't say I could ever get tired 
of the way things taste.  But honestly, I think if I was alone 
for all that time, cooking only for myself, I'd get pretty lazy 
about it."  He tossed the meat down, having eaten all he could 
for the moment.  It was rare for them to talk directly about 
Mulder's time alone, but he felt the relaxed mood might 
break some of the stone he occasionally ran into.  

"I did."  Mulder picked at a nonexistent stain on his pants
and shrugged.  "There were times I'd eat the same thing 
for weeks.  Then I'd just get tired of it all of a sudden." 
He popped a piece of carrot into his mouth and glanced 
around, squinting at the 'cat's lights.  "Sometimes I'd
decide to vary my diet, and dig up some old recipe in 
the computer and try it out.  After that, I'd get into this
kick where I wanted to cook real meals and eat new 
things.  Suddenly cooking and experimenting was a new
and exciting hobby."  He looked down at the remains of 
their dinner.  "Then, after a month of that, I'd get bored 
again, or depressed, and go right back into a rut." 

Skinner watched his friend's body language through the 
explanation, cataloging Mulder's movements and gestures 
along with his words.  Building a database on this man 
was a challenge he often felt he wasn't up to.  This new 
Mulder was such a contradiction in so many ways, and 
predictable in so many others.  Emotionally old and 
innocent at the same time.  

"You're not alone there."  Skinner reached out for a container 
of water, taking a big swallow.  "I remember going through 
times in 'Nam when military chow was fine, day in and 
day out.  Then one day I'd just sorta snap, and crave 
something -- anything -- with flavor.  After a few weeks 
of scrounging  my own meals, I'd be tired of the work 
and fall right back into the security of routine." 

"What would you have done if you were me?" 

The question startled Skinner mid-drink and he nearly 
spilled water down his chest.  "What?" 

"I know it's a stupid question, I was just curious." 

"No."  Skinner hastened to clarify his clumsiness.  "It's 
not a stupid question, Mulder.  Just a hard one to answer." 
He set the water down and tried to think of one.  When he 
looked up, he was met with hazel eyes and a searching 
expression.  "I don't think anyone could answer that 
truthfully, Mulder.  What you went through -- being 
alone for so long -- that's not something anyone can 
honestly predict their reaction to.  Unless you're faced 
with a situation, you can only guess your response." 

Mulder shrugged, maintaining eye contact.  "So, if you 
had been alone for two years, what do you think you 
would have done?" 

Gone completely and unequivocally insane.  "Well, 
for starters, probably gone a little crazy."  Skinner
smiled, trying hard to make light of his answer.  
Mulder seemed to take it in stride, not even flinching 
in response.  "I guess... I suppose... I would have found 
things to keep me busy.  Worked on projects, hobbies 
maybe.  Kept the equipment working, maybe tried to 
build things to keep myself occupied."  God, nothing 
like a simple question!  He'd pondered this before, 
many times, and never had come up with what he 
thought was a real answer.  "Honestly, I have absolutely 
no idea." 

Mulder nodded, then began to clean up their leftovers.  

"That wasn't the answer you were looking for, was it?" 

"Yeah, sure."  Mulder dumped the remainder of the stew
 into a container and sealed it, then shook his head.  "No, 
it wasn't."  He looked up, eyebrows creased in worry.  "I 
wanted -- I just need to know -- I dunno ..."  He shook his 
head again and reached for the rest of the dishes.  

Skinner stopped him with a hand on his arm.  "What?  
What is it you wanted to know?" 

It took nearly a minute for Mulder to look up.  "Sometimes, 
I need to know if I did it right." 

Confused, Skinner maintained his grip.  "Did what right, 
Mulder?" 

Mulder pursed his lips and his gaze seemed to focus
inward where a struggle was obviously taking place.  
Finally, he sighed and looked up again.  "I don't have 
anything to go by, you know?  There's no rule book to 
tell me if I was suppose to do something and didn't."  He 
hitched one shoulder in a shrug.  "Was there something 
I should have done?  Something I shouldn't have done?  
Maybe I was supposed to build a better communication 
device, or some kind of beacon warning people away.  
Or maybe I should have explored the terrain, found a
better place to live or started something somewhere I --" 

"Mulder, stop it ..." Skinner took hold of the younger 
man by both arms, then waited until he made eye contact.  
"There's nothing you could have done to save the world, 
understand?"  Large round eyes met his, but weren't 
convinced.  "You were just one man, dealing with mysteries 
you didn't understand, and didn't even know were there.  If 
anyone failed to do something, it was the bastards that left
you here.  They knew what was going on.  The only thing 
you could do was stay alive." 

Mulder still didn't look convinced, but he nodded and
Skinner released his arms.  "Yeah, I guess so." 

"Don't guess, Mulder.  It's true.  Hell, even if I was here, 
alone, and knew what this place was all about, I couldn't 
have done any better."  Finally, he got the look of failure 
wiped off Mulder's face and replaced with more of that 
wide-eyed disbelief he found so amusing.  "Believe it." 

Mulder looked down at the container of stew, then finally 
nodded.  "Thanks." 

Skinner smiled and reached out and tugged at his friend's 
long hair, making sure this conversation truly ended on 
an up note, then nodded toward his watch.  "Time to be 
turning in for the night." 

Mulder was first in the 'cat, as usual, but Skinner didn't 
linger long taking down the habitat.  It had only taken 
one experience outside under the shield to arrest the younger 
man's built-up bravery.  One time to remind him of a 
life of terror.  That one experience had been enough to 
stick in Skinner's mind so vividly that the passing of the 
hour hand beyond the six brought back every moment of 
it in a heartbeat.  He tried to watch the sky, with its
star-filled canopy, but before long, images of fangs and
claws and death as black as night flashed into his mind 
so sharply it nearly took his breath away.  If that was 
all it took to instill these kinds of flashes, he couldn't 
imagine what took place inside his partner's mind every 
time the subject of the creatures came up.  

Skinner shook off a chill that shot up his spine and hurried 
into the 'cat.  Mulder had a routine developed, getting 
their blankets and bedrolls into place in a way that allowed
maximum room in the cramped space.  Yet every night, 
seemingly without fail, Skinner woke to find a balled fist 
either clutching the back of his shirt -- or underneath it,
pressed up against his back.  Tonight started out as 
average as usual, with Mulder curled up on his side, facing 
the wall of the 'cat, Skinner on his back, staring up at 
the ceiling.  He preferred to ease himself into sleep, 
letting his mind go over the events of the day while his 
body relaxed in the stages of meditation he practiced.  

Only tonight he wasn't interested in the day's events.  
He didn't care to ponder the landscape they'd explored 
or the person they were hunting.  Tonight, he couldn't 
get Mulder's question out of his mind.  'What would 
you have done if you were me?'  God, what a question! 
It was so hard to fathom, in all honesty.  What would 
he have done?  It seemed impossible even to think of 
every ramification.  To be the only living human.  
No one to trust, no one to care!  He wanted to believe 
he would have still found purpose in life, a reason to 
get out of bed every day, a reason to continue.  But 
would he have?  Would anyone?  No hope of rescue, 
unable to venture out of the complex, and never really 
knowing why.  

But Mulder had.  He'd done all of that -- found a reason 
to live -- against all odds.  He either had the most unique 
mind-set of anyone Skinner knew, or something else had
happened over the past two years.  

Skinner sighed quietly and pressed his eyes closed.  
These thoughts were getting him nowhere.  There
was no way he could experience what Mulder had.  
No one could unless they'd lived it.  Even his time
in the jungle, as horrific as it had seemed, didn't 
compare.  He'd been waiting to die, not facing a 
lifetime alone.  No.  It was doing him no good 
dwelling on either of their pasts.  Besides, they
both had plenty of future left to worry about.  
 
The next day they set out to follow the mountains.
Skinner filled the morning with chatter about Mulder's
life, his job, his friends, the things he did and the
things he wanted.  Even he could hear the wistful 
note creep into his voice as he talked of ballgames,
and jogging, and dinners in restaurants.

Mulder turned to him, concern shading his expression.  
"You miss it?"  He shook his head.  "It's not right." 

"What's that?"  Skinner turned in his seat and took 
note of his friend's frustrated body language.  

"Being stuck here.  It's not right.  Especially for someone
like you."  Mulder's brow creased angrily into a look of 
disgust.  "To be stuck here, with no choices.  It's just not 
right.  You should be able to leave if you wanted to.  How
can they get away with letting you come, when they knew
they were going to make you stay?"  He glanced at Skinner, 
then looked back out the windshield, watching where they
were going.  

Skinner laughed shortly.  "Listen, Mulder, no one dragged 
me out here.  Unlike you, I had a choice.  And believe it 
or not, I gave it some thought.  I made arrangements before
I left, just in case something like this happened.  And it's 
not forever.  You know that.  But I know what I left behind, 
and missing that is natural." 

Mulder's face softened a little bit, but he said nothing.  

"You know, you always miss what you can't have.  Granted, 
for you that takes on a whole new meaning.  But trust me, Mulder, 
you'll get to have that life again.  It may not be exactly the same,
but it will still be your life.  You'll have your freedom, you'll
make your own choices, and you won't be held captive to fear.
I only wish you could remember what that's like so you'd 
understand." 

"Yeah, I guess."  Mulder flipped on the recorders as they
followed the curve of the mountain in a circle, heading 
back to the station and both men scanned the area for 
any signs of the missing tracker.  

"Nothing."  Skinner examined the grid display.  "This
valley should follow around that mountain pretty
nicely.  Let's stay in it, then round it out and head
back to the complex from that angle."  His partner
looked at the marks, then nodded and held them
on a steady course.  His mood was still dark, Skinner
could see that and he hated it.  He didn't want their
pleasant time out to end on a downward slide.  "Once we 
get out of here, back to the World, I'm gonna have a great 
time reintroducing you to all those things you know
about, but don't really remember.  It's gonna be
fantastic, Mulder.  It'll be like having a whole new
chance to start over.  And then, when your memory
comes back, you'll have the added memories of what
it was like when things were new to you." 

Mulder seemed to consider the possibility, then turned 
to Skinner.  "Do you think that's really going to happen?" 

Skinner shrugged.  "Hell, who knows?  I don't believe 
the players in this game are going to let their investments
sit down here and rot forever, no.  I expect when the winter
night is over, and the storms abate, they'll come for us.  And
man, I know one person who is gonna be soooooo surprised
to find us both alive." 

With a sigh, the younger man seemed to accept that possibility. 

***************************************** 

The rest of their trip was uneventful.  They finished their 
search and returned to the complex in the afternoon.
Mulder had been driving but insisted Skinner handle the parking,
as pulling the vehicle into the bay when it was full of activity
could be tricky.

"Will we be going out again?"  Mulder unhooked his seat 
belt after he relinquished the controls.  

"I dunno, Mulder.  We'll have to give it some thought." 
None of the other teams had found any sign of McMurray 
or his men either.  Skinner wasn't about to give up, but he 
wasn't sure how much of their lives he should allow to be 
ruined by the actions of a madman.  Mulder needed stability, 
and security, but justice demanded attention as well.  This 
wasn't a decision he was going to make for him.   

"I don't see the point." 

Skinner brought the 'cat to a halt in its assigned position,
then turned to face his friend.  

"I mean, I enjoyed this.  It's good in a way, to finally see more
of this place, I guess.  And I liked getting away from the 
station."  Mulder shrugged and toyed with the strap of his 
safety harness.  "But I don't see the point in looking for 
them.  Either they're dead, or they will be.  The monsters
got them or the cold did.  Or they'll come back here and 
be seen." 

Skinner sighed and looked outside, watching the garage
personnel scurry about.  After a minute, he turned and 
looked at Mulder.  "Are you sure about that, Mulder?" 
The younger man's gaze met his with wide, changing 
eyes.  "He could very well be alive, and he could come 
back.  In fact, I can't fathom them all not coming back." 

Mulder shrugged.  "If they come back, they'll be caught.  
If they don't, they'll die out there.  Either way, it doesn't 
matter to me." 

Skinner chewed the inside of his lip and studied the 
'cat's controls.  Mulder's world was a simple one; if
he was safe that meant it was OK.  Who was he to 
argue that kind of logic?  "I'm going to suggest Peters
keep one team on patrol, but it doesn't have to be us." 
Skinner unhooked his safety harness.  "McMurray tried 
to murder you, nearly killed us both, and stole a tracker 
belonging to this station.  I want him found."  He
stood and looked down at his friend who was still 
in the pilot's seat, quietly listening.  "But that
doesn't mean we have to waste our lives looking." 
He nodded toward the back of the 'cat.  "Come
on, let's get this thing unpacked so we can give it 
some maintenance before dinner." 

They unpacked their gear, then headed back to the 
vehicle bay in good spirits to give their vehicle a
scheduled going-over in order to assure peak performance 
for as long as they might need it. It was here that 
Mulder's knowledge shone, from the deconstruction, 
cleaning, and adjusting, to the ultimate reconstruction 
of just about every moving part there was.  While he had
been alone, the maintenance manuals on the trackers
and the 'cats were some of the main things he had to
read.  Skinner enjoyed being the assistant, watching
his partner dive into the project with the kind of complete 
concentration he used to use in working a case.  

"Ah, Skinner, there you are.  I've got something new 
on this shield to show you." 

Skinner handed Mulder the clamp, then looked up.  "Wolf, 
what's up?"  Instinctively, he moved his leg to one side, 
making it easier for his partner to wiggle out from under 
the 'cat and vanish somewhere further inside the bay 
without more than a nod to the engineer.  

"Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that."  Wolf sighed deeply 
and watched Mulder hurry away.  

Skinner glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to 
the new arrival.  "Don't take it personally, Wolf.  It's not 
you, it's the subject matter."  The Native American creased 
his eyebrows and waited for an explanation.  "Look, if 
you'd just walked up here, said hello, and wanted to 
talk about -- oh, I don't know -- engine parts, or the 
weather -- anything but that damn shield, or those --
creatures, then he wouldn't have taken off like that." 

Wolf looked skeptical.  "You're serious?" 

"Yes."  Skinner picked up a towel and wiped some of 
the black lubricant from his hands.  "Haven't you 
figured it out yet?" 

"Well ...  no, I guess not." 

"Then try it out next time."  He tossed the towel aside.  
"You may find this hard to believe Wolf, but Mulder 
actually respects you." 

"Come on, Skinner, the man hardly hangs around when
I'm nearby.  I'm lucky to get a hello from him when we 
pass in the corridors." Wolf shook his head and pushed 
dark hair from his face.  "I don't know what it is.  I mean, 
I like the man, he's got spunk.  Hell, he's got guts!  I'd like 
to be considered a friend, or at least not an enemy." 

Skinner had to hold back a chuckle so as not to offend the 
confused man.  It took some skill, figuring out Fox Mulder. 
He just never realized he might be one of only a few who 
could.  "Wolf, I'm going to explain the facts of life to 
you -- or rather -- the facts of Mulder."  He couldn't help 
the grin that tugged at the left corner of his mouth.  
"The fact that the man knows your name and can pick 
your face out of a crowd means he's taken some interest 
in you as a human being.  That's no small matter.  I can 
count the people who've made the cut on one hand." 

Wolf cocked his head to one side, but didn't offer an 
interruption.  

"Believe me, it's strange but true.  Mulder only 
recognizes certain individuals.  The rest of them he just
hasn't bothered with, or so he says.  Now, he can't tolerate 
talking about those creatures, or anything to do with them..." 

"Well, who could blame him?" 

"... including that habitat shield." 

A light seemed to go on inside.  "Damn, of course."
Wolf nodded, then shook his head, then smacked the 
palm of his hand against his forehead.  "What a jerk! 
I've been driving myself nuts trying to figure out what 
I'd done to make him afraid of me, or hate me ... when 
all along, it's not me he's avoiding so often, but what
I keep representing." 

"Give the man a prize."  Skinner let his grin blossom fully.  

"So, as long as I'm standing here, talking to you about 
the shield, he's gonna stay over there and avoid me?" 

Skinner glanced back inside the bay, then shook his head. 
"Don't worry, he's with Tom.  One of the other elite 
members of Mulder's list.  Those two can talk happily about 
machines for hours."  He turned back to Wolf and arched 
his eyebrows.  "So, you were saying?" 

"What?  Oh, right!  I've been working on a new design." 
From his pocket, Wolf produced a sheaf of papers,
turning to a diagram.  "While you were gone, I tested 
out those settings, the ones that kept you two alive out 
there, and... well, they work.  Especially when you use a 
generator that doesn't have a leaking charger." 

Startled, Skinner looked up.  "What?" 

Wolf nodded, suddenly very somber.  "Yes.  I took apart 
that shield generator bit by bit, and found it.  That's why 
it gave out when it did.  It was sheer damn luck that kept 
it going that long." 

Skinner inhaled slowly and deeply, then nodded for 
Wolf to continue.  

"Well, anyway, now that we know what works, and what 
doesn't, I had an idea for something more portable." 

Wolf explained, through his diagrams and figures, a plan 
he'd concocted for a smaller, more personal energy shield.  
One that could be belted on and afford the wearer enough 
mobility to get to safety if under imminent attack.  

"I thought about this when I saw how close you and Mulder 
were to your 'cat."  Wolf folded the paper again and pocketed 
them, glancing back into the hangar for a moment.  "If you
could have moved, you both could have gotten to the 'cat 
and back here.  But I've seen enough tape on those things; 
they're just too fast to make a run unprotected." 

Skinner nodded slowly, considering the design.  "What 
about integrity?  The creatures can knock a man
off his feet with very little effort.  I'm assuming 
mobility is due to an opening at the feet?" 

"Yes, it is.  But that opening would seal up instantly 
if the edges lost contact with the ground for more
than two seconds.  At least, that's the theory." 

"Wishful thinking, I'm afraid, but it would be nice
if it could work." 

"Well, it'll keep me busy for a while.  What about 
you two?  Any luck finding McMurray and his gang?" 

"No.  Not yet." 

"You don't think he'll come back here, do you?" 

Skinner inhaled deeply and straightened to his full 
height to relieve some strain on his back.  He thought
a lot of things about McMurray, few of which were 
humane.  "If he does, I'll be ready for him." 

Wolf nodded and seemed to want to say something else, 
but changed his mind.  "Listen, you don't have to 
worry about anyone getting the drop on Mulder again, 
trust me.  Everyone has pretty much adopted the 
man since that attack.  I doubt anyone could pull that 
again." 

"I don't think that's necessary."  Skinner felt his jaw 
stiffen, and the reaction startled him.  "Mulder and I
can handle McMurray when we find him."  He didn't 
like the idea of everyone keeping an eye on his friend.  
If Mulder caught wind of something unusual, there was
no telling how it would affect him, knowing so many 
eyes were following his every move.  No, this wasn't 
a good idea.  Well meant, but not a good idea.  

"I'm quite sure you can.  I just hope you do, and soon." 
Wolf heaved a heavy sigh then jerked a thumb toward 
the main buildings.  "Well, I've got work to do.  Just 
wanted to show you these designs, to give you a heads up." 

"Thanks.  I'll check in with you later on, see how it's 
coming."  Skinner nodded as Wolf took his leave,
then turned to face Mulder, figuring his partner 
would be no more than a few feet away.  He was right.
"Hey, Mulder, you all finished?"  Trust the man to know 
exactly when Wolf would be leaving.  No wonder 
the engineer got the wrong impression.  

"Yeah, we're done here.  I just want to lock it all down." 
Mulder moved past Skinner and knelt down under the 
belly of the 'cat and began closing the utility hatches.  

"Good.  I need a long hot soak." 

********************************************

The next few days passed without incident, and without 
any sign of their fugitives.  When the next recharge cycle 
was approaching, Skinner convinced Peters to call off all 
active searches but maintain a station-wide alert.
Anyone on a routine exploration or a recreational trip 
was to keep an eye out for anything that might indicate 
someone living outside the group, or signs of the missing 
tracker.  He and Mulder spent long hours creating 
detailed maps of the regions they'd traveled through
during their search, recreating their week-long trip 
with incredible clarity.  The other search teams also 
brought back maps of their journeys, and Skinner 
hoped processing the data from them as well would 
give them a much better idea of where McMurray 
might have gone.  Peters was thrilled just to finally 
details of the area, and came over often to examine 
the maps and contemplate future excursions.  The 
talk of the station seemed to be focused on new 
attempts at tracking the creatures and learning 
more about them as a species.  Talk that both
worried and infuriated Skinner as he wondered
what exactly this group had been sent down here 
to do.  Talk that Skinner tried hard to keep his 
partner clear of.  But when the next cycle began, 
Mulder's nightmares returned.  

Skinner heard the shout and came instantly awake.  
He was sitting up in the bed, grabbing at flailing
arms before he even cleared his eyes.  By the time 
he got a grip, and murmured an unconscious
reassurance, his partner's look of fear had already 
been replaced with one of complete and utter disgust.  

"Dammit."  Mulder was sitting on the bed, blankets 
strewn everywhere, with his back against a wall. 
He braced bare toes on the edge of the bed and 
wiggled his wrists against Skinner's grip.

"You OK?"  Skinner knelt beside him on the bed, 
and blinked widely to adjust to the light he'd flipped on
automatically.  He slowly released the younger man.

Mulder didn't reply.  He just pushed his hands 
through the dark curls to the back of his head and
stared angrily at his feet.  After a minute, he nodded.  
"Sorry I woke you." 

"That's all right."  The light no longer burned his eyes, 
so Skinner ran a hand over them and sighed, feeling 
himself come more fully awake.  His body never cared 
what time it was, if he told it to wake up and react, it 
always did.  His mind took a few minutes to catch up.  
"Do you want to get up for a bit, maybe try some tea 
or warm milk?"  He fumbled for his glasses on the bedside
table as he rose.

"This is so stupid!"  Mulder shook his head and looked up, 
his eyes dark and angry.  "I never used to have
nightmares.  Not even when I could hear them outside." 

"Come on."  Skinner reached out and motioned for Mulder 
to get off the bed.  There was no way the man was going 
to get back to sleep in this condition.  He needed to talk, 
maybe resort to the herbal sedative.  Right now, some
hot chocolate sounded pretty good.  

Reluctantly, Mulder moved off the bed and followed
Skinner out to the galley where he sat at the counter, 
opposite the cooking area.  It was just after midnight, 
and the creatures were out in full force.  Lately they 
seemed to hang around near the main complex for a 
few hours, then when nothing offered itself up as 
good hunting, they would slowly move off to parts 
unknown, not to return again for ten or twelve hours.
It made Skinner think Mulder's twelve hour rule had
some validity and was grounded in fact.  If only they
knew more!  But studying the creatures was slow and
difficult task.  Skinner made it a point never to 
discuss Katherine's tracking experiments, and so far 
every attempt made to get one of the monsters to 
swallow, pick up, step on -- or in any way take with 
them -- one of many tracers, had failed.  But the 
attempts and trials tended to bring some of the 
larger creatures closer to the buildings, where their 
calls and claws could pierce the quiet of the night.

"Did you hear them again tonight?"  Skinner set a 
pot on the heater and poured in the milk, then added 
a generous amount of chocolate and -- when Mulder 
wasn't looking -- a small amount of the sedative.  

"No, it's not them.  Not this time."  Mulder propped 
both elbows on the counter and leaned his forehead 
into both hands for support.  

"What is it this time?"  Skinner watched the younger 
man while he stirred the warming milk.  

"I don't -- I'm not sure, exactly."  He shook his head 
and looked down.  "It's not them, but I keep seeing 
someone.  Two people.  I think I should know them, 
but I don't." 

"McMurray's men?" 

"No, people from before."  Mulder looked up.  

Skinner flipped off the heat and poured their milk. 
He hoped he'd added enough of the herb to counteract 
the confusion evident in his friend's eyes.  They'd both 
be drinking it, but he could fight the effects if he had 
to.  "What is it you see in this dream?" 

Mulder sighed heavily and looked at the counter, then 
began to draw shapes with a finger on the smooth surface.  
"Nothing, really," he shrugged.  "I see the complex the 
way it was before you came, empty and quiet.  Then I 
see these two people, and I know them, but I can't 
remember why.  I can't remember names or anything.  
It's like a feeling, more than a memory." 

Skinner carried the cups around the counter, then 
sat down beside Mulder who continued to trace a
pattern with one finger.  "Then what happens?" 

"I walk toward them and they turn away, then walk 
through the doors.  They leave, but I can't follow
them." 

"Why can't you follow them through the door?" 

"The generators are coming on.  When they go out, 
the doors lock behind them and won't open.  Then I 
hear screams and I --" Mulder stopped himself, then 
quickly reached for the cup in front of him and held it.  

Skinner put a hand on the younger man's shoulder 
and gave a gentle squeeze.  "Do they ever say anything, 
or try to move toward you?" 

"No."  He took another drink, then set the cup down and 
stared into it.  "No, they just leave.  And it's always after 
the generators come on, then the doors lock behind them 
and I can't follow.  And when they go I -- it seems like 
there's a fight, and then it's like I'm alone again.  This 
feeling hits me so hard, like I'm being physically struck 
in the chest -- smothered by aloneness.  I think that's what's 
making me wake up." 

"I'm sorry, Mulder."  Skinner paused until Mulder met 
his gaze.  "I wish I could make them stop, these nightmares.  
And I know it doesn't help to know they're perfectly natural.  
Having these feelings, and having random thoughts 
generate strange dreams you can't control."  He felt so 
helpless at times like these.  Mulder nodded and arched 
his eyebrows in a shrug of resignation.  "If it'll help, I'm 
sure Aaron would be happy to talk to you about them." 

"No."  Mulder shook his head once, then looked back at 
his cup.  "I'm fine.  I can just talk to you about them, 
can't I?  He can't help me." 

Skinner smiled slightly and gave his friend's shoulder
a gentle pat.  "Of course you can talk to me.  I just
wish I could help you better." 

"You help me just fine."  Mulder finished his drugged 
milk and pushed the cup to the other side of the
counter.  "I think I just needed to know I'm not 
crazy or something." 

"Crazy?"  Skinner laughed shortly and shook his head.  
"Mulder, if having nightmares means a person's crazy, 
then there's no hope for any of us.  Keeping them to 
yourself and letting them take control, that's when you 
get crazy.  OK?"  Mulder nodded, then yawned sleepily.  
"Yeah, well, let's get you back to your room before you 
fall asleep here." 

The next day marked the end of the recharge period, so 
Skinner and Mulder celebrated with a morning in the 
hot tub. 

"You know, if we want to keep cooking for ourselves,
we're gonna need to stock up again."  Mulder indicated
a pack he'd brought as he slung it over one shoulder.  

"You have a shopping list for me?"  Skinner pulled on 
his pants and shoes, then picked up his shirt and pointed
at the bag his partner was holding.  "I wondered what 
that was." 

"Yeah, if you don't mind."  The diffident tone was back
in the younger man's voice.  He resettled the bag and 
started down the corridor that led back to their basement
quarters.  "I put the note in the pack." 

"Good."  Skinner reached out and snagged  the pack from
his friend.   "Do you need anything else from the station 
supplies beside food?   I want to find some more of that
graph paper we've been using for the maps." 

"No, I don't need anything." 

Skinner pulled the pack over one shoulder and gently pushed
his partner down the hall.  "OK, I'll be back in a few minutes." 

He raided the kitchens first, slipping in coffee, bread, some
fruits and vegetables, as well as some of the ready-made MREs.
As a last thought, he filched some more of the chocolate, then
zipped up the pack, feeling somewhat guilty for his indulgence.  

From there he went to a large room that was being used for 
storage.  The last time he had been there, it had been a disaster,
with crates and boxes strewn haphazardly, and no thought to
labeling or organization.  The station was using this area
for storage of all kinds, from spare parts for the equipment,
to computer supplies, batteries, and even the overflow of
food stores that wouldn't fit in the kitchen.  What he found 
now were crates lined up in rows, all nicely labeled and far 
enough apart to  allow easy access.  Of course, the box he 
wanted was at the  far end, on the bottom of a large stack.  
Halfway through his search, Skinner heard movement from 
the next row of boxes.  

"Is someone here?"  Instantly the sound stopped.  Skinner 
froze, listening now with alert suspicion. Before he could 
speak again he heard a frantic whisper, then muffled 
footsteps.  They were coming from the opposite side 
of the huge, black crate he was standing beside.  As 
quietly as he could, Skinner stepped closer to the corner 
and peered around.  

Looking in the opposite direction was a young man, 
dressed in a combat BDU, his head covered with a 
black watch cap.  He turned quickly and stared at 
Skinner, eyes narrowed in anger.  Before he could 
say a word, his head exploded in pain and the floor 
rushed up to meet him.  

The next thing Skinner saw was Mulder's anxious face.  

"He's awake." 

Mulder's face moved out of his line of vision and was 
replaced by Aaron's.  

"Just hang on a second, Walter.  Let me take one more 
look." 

Skinner groaned as his head began to throb.  "What happened?" 

"You got blindsided, apparently."  Aaron took his chin in hand,
then shone a light into his eyes, causing him to blink furiously
as they watered.  "Just a slight concussion, thank goodness." 

"Did you see who it was?" 

"No."  Skinner reached up to rub his forehead and realized 
he was still on the floor in the storage room.  He blinked again
but still couldn't focus until Mulder gently placed his glasses,
bent somewhat, on his face.  Then he was able to focus on 
the room, and his partner kneeling anxiously by his side.  
"I'm fine." 

"Should we get him to med lab?" 

Peters' voice came from behind, and Skinner looked 
around to see who else might be nearby.  From his vantage
point on the floor, he could see his friend kneeling 
beside him, with Aaron and Peters to his left.  

"No, he'll be fine if he takes it easy."  Aaron reached 
out and assisted Mulder in giving Skinner a hand 
sitting up.  "Slowly.  You're going to have a nasty 
headache for day or two." 

"I'm OK."  Skinner reached around, gently searching 
for the sore spot at the base of his skull.  "How long was 
I out?" 

"You were unconscious when I found you."  Mulder 
put a hand on Skinner's arm and looked anxiously at
him.  "Then after I called for help, you were starting
to wake up." 

Skinner nodded, rubbing his head.  His friend looked
worse than he usually did after a bad nightmare.  "I'm 
OK, Mulder."  He glanced up at Aaron and Peters and 
tried not to imagine what would have happened if he 
wasn't.  

"What happened?  I mean, obviously you were attacked, 
but by who?"  Peters looked from Skinner to Mulder.  "Is 
McMurray back?" 

"No."  Skinner shook his head.  "I didn't see who hit me, 
but there were two of them down here.  I got a look at 
one."  The image of that man's face was burned into his 
mind, as well as the implications it held.  

"Who was it?" 

Skinner put a hand on Mulder's arm and smiled at his 
partner reassuringly, then turned to Peters.  "I didn't
recognize him, but he's not one of ours." 

Aaron shook his head.  "What do you mean, not one 
of ours?" 

Skinner sighed and looked at Mulder, gripping the 
arm he was still holding.  "I'm not like Mulder.  I know
the people that are here, and I can tell them apart.  This 
man was not anyone who came down on the plane with me."

He paused, letting the ramifications sink in.

"I want to see pictures of the military people who 
were with the first group." 

***************************************

The world had stopped spinning and now sat frozen in 
place inside Mulder's gut.  But the ice didn't stay there.  
It was moving, up to his face, down through his legs.  
His hands were shaking with the cold.  And all the while, 
Aaron, Peters and Skinner continued to speak as if they 
still had air.  Mulder was sure all the oxygen had been 
sucked out with his partner's last sentence.  It was like 
he was at the end of a very long dark tunnel, cold and 
unable to breathe.  He could hear them talking about 
how carefully they'd have to proceed, if they hoped to 
find this tall, angry-eyed man and his accomplice 
without frightening them away, or alerting the others 
just yet.  He heard it all from very far away.  

But they were just words.  They couldn't touch the ice 
in his stomach, or the burning cold spreading through 
his face.  The words couldn't hold him in place when 
his fear kicked in.  Only the hand still holding his arm 
kept him from running away.  

Mulder suddenly became aware of eyes staring at him, 
and Skinner's hand gripping more firmly.  He took his 
friend by the arm and tugged him toward the door, staring 
at a point near the floor and praying he'd wake up soon 
from this nightmare.  "We should get you home."  
Skinner had been hit on the head; they should go home.  
Go back to the basement, lock the doors, cut off the
communication unit, and never come out!  

"No, I'm fine.  There's no telling where these two are 
by now.  They could be around the complex, or long 
gone."  Skinner put a hand on Mulder's shoulder, but 
turned to look at Peters.  "We need to keep this quiet, 
at least for now.  You and Aaron can spot a stranger 
quickly.  I think you two should split up.  Mulder and 
I will stick together." 

"The fewer people who know about this right now, 
the better."  Peters took Aaron by the arm and ushered 
him back toward the stairs.  "We'll recruit a few people 
we can trust not to spread rumors." 

"Just remember, whoever they are, they didn't 
announce themselves to us.  They'll probably scare
easily." 

Mulder's gaze remained fixed on the floor during their 
exchange, and was beginning to blur with the intensity.  
This wasn't happening.  When he realized Peters and 
Aaron had walked away, he looked up at Skinner and 
took a step backwards.  "You're wrong." 

"Mulder ..." 

"No!  You're wrong.  You were hit on the head, from 
behind.  How could you have seen someone's face?  
You can't tell me you saw a man from before!  It's 
not possible!"  He pulled away when Skinner reached 
out for his arm.  "No!  I was alone!" 

"Mulder, listen to me."  Skinner stopped trying to come 
closer.  "We'll sort this out.  Trust me.  But right
now we have to try and find them." 

God, he doesn't understand!  Mulder felt his anger 
building.  It was the only defense he knew.  He glared 
at Skinner, knowing full well the intensity of his own 
eyes made a pale comparison to the rock-hard penetration
of his friend's.  He just couldn't compete with that 
level of fervor.

"I need your help, Mulder.  I think you'll be able to 
pick these two out of a crowd, whether you recognize 
them or not."  Skinner gestured toward the hallway.  
"We need to find them before they disappear again." 

"You don't understand!  They can't be from before, 
they just can't!"  Mulder paced to a corner then was 
forced to turn back when he realized he'd walked into 
a dead end of crates.  He spun around and smacked a 
crate with one fist in anger.  "I was alone!" 

"That's why we have to find them."  Skinner stepped 
closer and reached out in entreaty, but made no more 
moves to take Mulder by the arm.  "I need your help.  
Just calm down, you're going to have to trust me.  
We'll find the answers." 

He looked up, meeting Skinner's gaze.  The warm
brown took some of the heat from his own raging glare,
but the fear and coldness remained.  "I was alone." 

"I believe you." 

Mulder searched his friend's eyes, wishing again that 
he could read expressions.  He'd brought all the fears 
to light in one simple sentence.  I believe you.  But 
would anyone else?  He doubted it.  

"Come on.  Stick with me, and we'll see if we can find 
some answers."  Skinner's hand remained outstretched.  

"You were wrong."  Mulder steeled himself against the 
accusing faces waiting for him outside the door.  

"Then help prove it." 

Reluctantly, Mulder walked forward.  He didn't flinch 
when Skinner put an arm around his shoulders, but
it didn't stop his own hands from shaking at the touch.  
Everything was upside down now.  The past two 
years, these last few months, everything.  

They reached the door and walked out into a moderately 
busy corridor.  The accusing glances and threatening 
gestures he'd expected didn't happen, but he knew they 
would.  As soon as word spread that other survivors 
had been found, they'd all change.  Maybe they'd even
think of McMurray and his partners as the heroes? 

"Come on, let's try the kitchen."  Skinner gripped 
Mulder's elbow and steered him down the left corridor.  
"I think they were scavenging, so they might hit the 
kitchen during the lull in activity." 

Mulder tried hard not to look at anyone as they walked 
toward the huge kitchen area.  What the hell was he 
going to do if he found someone from before?  What 
was he supposed to do?  Everything he knew was wrong.  
Now the answers he'd longed for terrified him more than 
the creatures that plagued the night.  

"Keep your eyes open, Mulder." 

"They all look the same."  Mulder swallowed and glanced 
at a group they were passing.  Why didn't anyone believe 
him?  None of these people meant a thing to him, so telling 
them apart was almost impossible.  How Skinner could 
distinguish between so many individuals was beyond him.  

"Just keep looking."  Skinner nodded casually at the group 
as they walked by.  "The one man's clothes were different 
from what these people wear.  All black and with a knit 
cap over his head. " 

Mulder shook his head.  "You were wrong.  It's dark 
in there." 

"Humor me." 

Skinner pushed the large swinging doors open and 
led the way into the main kitchen.  The room was
mostly deserted, with two people  at the far side 
sharing a joke while they stirred various steaming
pots.  They must have missed the main lunch serving 
for they were at the cutting blocks, making their
own sandwiches and discussing a project.  Skinner 
nodded at everyone and moved toward the storage
rooms in the back.  

"I think they're the reason you had that nightmare, 
Mulder."  They reached the back of the kitchen and
started down a short hallway into the main storage 
room.  "I think you caught a glimpse of them at some 
point, and it triggered the dream." 

"I didn't see anyone."  Mulder pushed open the storage 
room door and flipped on the lights.  It was a huge 
room, filled with supplies, with a sizable freezer at one 
end and a walk-in refrigerator at the other.  

"Not consciously, no." 

"Not at all."  Mulder pulled away from Skinner, then 
pointed down the corridor of crates he intended to walk 
through.  His partner nodded and moved to the next aisle.  
He should have known this new life he'd found wouldn't 
last.  It was only a matter of time before Skinner stopped 
believing him, or trusting him.  Better that he should 
break it off now, and find a safe place.  But where?  The 
complex was the only home he could remember; this
cold, isolated life, the only one he knew.  

"Hey, you, hang on!" 

Mulder looked up when he heard Skinner's shout.  
He'd worked his way to the far side, near the refrigerator 
door, when suddenly someone pushed by him.  The door 
rolled open quickly and the thin young man reached 
it before his pursuer.  Mulder stopped no more than 
three feet from him.  

Skinner was still three aisles away, and pushing his 
way around a container.  "Stop him!" 

The man turned quickly and faced Mulder.  Their eyes 
met and he froze in place, unwilling to believe what he 
saw.  In the next instant, he vanished through the door, 
yanking it shut behind him while Mulder made no move 
to stop him.  

"Mulder, that was him!"  Skinner reached the handle 
and slammed the door back open.  The AD squeezed
through the door and dashed out into the starlit snow
after his prize.  "Come on!" 

Mulder turned away and ran.  His heart was pounding with 
such force he expected it to burst from his chest.
The complex swept by in a blur as he ran through the
hallways, eyes closed in blind panic.  He'd intended to 
run as far away as possible, but some twisted instinct 
drew him back to the basement.  At least it had a door 
he could lock.  But he wouldn't be safe there.  He'd be 
trapped.  

He'd always been trapped.  "Damn it!!" Anger was 
burning in his face when he reached the lower level.
"Damn it to hell!  I hate this!!" 

"What is it?"  The voice was calm, an echo in his head
he hadn't heard in weeks and hadn't missed.  The 
serenity of the voice was a stark contrast to the 
sweating, panting man bursting into the bedroom.  

"You lied!"  Mulder held on to the dresser for support 
as he stared into the mirror.  

"You know what's going on! I -- I've always known
 what's going on!" 

"Stop --" 

"They're alive!  The people from before, they're alive!  
I believed I was alone!"  Mulder glared at the mirror,
daring it to answer him.  Daring the lie to be uttered 
again.  His entire life was a lie.  Everything he'd known, 
or thought he'd known.  Everything he remembered.
What did he have left? 

"You were alone.  You were alone.  You were ..." 

"It's a lie.  All this time, it's a lie."  Unbelievable!  Even
now his scarred psyche wouldn't come clean with the truth.
"Walter found someone.  I saw him.  I knew him!  I knew
who he was!  He was here -- before!"  

The voice was soothing, calming, and he wanted to listen.
"You don't have to remember this.  You don't have to 
face the things that hurt.  Let it go, let it go, let it go.
The sedative, Mulder.  Get the sedative.  You're too
agitated.  Fix some of the sedative and sleep now."

It was tempting to listen, to take the easy way out,
but he had a feeling he'd been taking the easy way 
out a lot in the past two years. 

"I saw this man.  He's not one of them, he's from 
before."  Mulder knew if he let go of the dresser, his
hands would start shaking.  He could feel it in his 
legs, the fear and adrenaline that threatened to buckle 
his knees.  Had he locked the door when he came in? 
Not that it would matter, Skinner could still get inside.  
Did he catch the other man?  Were they all gathered 
around him right now outside, finding out what 
really happened?  Learning a truth Mulder didn't know? 

"You were alone.  There were no other people from 
before.  Get the sedative." 

"Stop this!  Just let me remember the truth!"  The 
words were torn from his mouth, and tears of rage
filled his eyes. 

"Check the files -- you can check the files." 

"I remember the dream.  Two people.  I walk toward 
them and they turn away, then walk through the doors.  
They leave, but I can't follow them."  The tears spilled
over now, falling unnoticed down his cheeks.

"Did I lock them out?"  Blood was roaring through his
ears, pounding with every beat of his heart.  "Is that 
what happened?   I locked them all out, hoping
they'd die?   Why did I lock them out?" 

"Get the sedative --" 

"Why am I here?  What do I know?" 

"The sedative.  You're rambling.  If you would calm 
down, you might see how impossible this is.  You were
alone.  We were alone!" 

"Enough!"  Nearly blinded by his own irrational anger, 
Mulder lifted the statue that stood sentry on his dresser
and hurled it across the room.  The small piece slammed 
into the wall beside the door, less than an inch from 
Skinner's face.  With a new focus, his anger switched 
gears, but threatened to falter from exhaustion.  "He lied!" 
Mulder pointed an accusing finger at the mirror.  "All this 
time, about everything, I didn't know!  And it was there,
inside me.  It still is.  But he," the finger jabbed at the 
mirror again, "kept telling me to sleep, to take the
sedative, to forget.  Always, always, forget!"  

He looked up, meeting Skinner's gaze, unsure if he should 
be  afraid or not.  "I was alone!"  Skinner had to believe 
him!  The dark eyes holding his so steadily were filled 
with compassion -- unless he was reading them wrong.  
In a rush, all the anger and fear washed through Mulder, 
leaving him tired and shaking.  His voice lost all of 
its former volume.  "I was alone." 

Without a word, Skinner stepped over the statue, 
walked straight to Mulder, and pulled him close.  
"I believe you." 

For a moment -- one brief moment -- Mulder let himself 
believe that.  He leaned forward, pressing his face into 
the taller man's broad chest.  So much of his life -- what 
he could remember, and even what he could not, he 
suspected -- had been spent praying for the time when 
he could lean on someone, trust someone to be there.  
But now, even his dreams were upside down.  

"Did you catch him?"  He felt himself stiffen in the 
embrace, waiting for a reply.  

"No.  He must know this place as well as you do." 
Skinner sighed and brought his hands up to Mulder's
shoulders, pushing him back just far enough so their 
eyes could meet.  "You saw him, didn't you?  You
saw him and you knew him?" 

The fear came back like a rocket launch.  "I didn't know 
about him!"  Mulder pulled back, out of Skinner's
grip.  Was this how it would be now?  Was Skinner going 
to pretend, like the others, in order to trick him into 
revealing facts he didn't have?  "I was alone here!" 

"Take it easy."  Skinner made a move to touch Mulder's 
arm, but stopped halfway and changed the reach to a 
gesture of assurance.  "I said I believed you, Mulder.  
Nothing's changed that.  But obviously there are others
out there." 

Mulder clenched his jaw and ran a hand through his 
hair.  He didn't know what to do!  He couldn't think 
anymore.  His head hurt and he couldn't breathe.  

"Listen to me, Mulder, no one doubts you were alone 
all that time.  Not me, not Peters, not Aaron.  They
don't even know you like I do, and neither of them 
doubts what you've told us." 

"You'll be the only ones." 

"Don't discount these people so quickly, Mulder.  
You might not know many of them, but they all
know you.  And with the exception of McMurray, 
I haven't heard anyone say they didn't believe you." 

Mulder shook his head, but he couldn't meet Skinner's 
gaze.  

"We all know something was done to you.  I'm convinced
that the twelve hour rhythms of the creatures, the knowledge
of how they are drawn to the heat and the generators hum, 
all that was planted deep inside you somehow.  Who knows, 
maybe this drive to forget, this urge to take the sedative 
and sleep, was planted in you to counteract any possibility
that your memory would come back.  We know you were 
alone here all that time.  Now there's a chance to find out
why." 

"Maybe I don't want to find out why."  He'd meant to 
shout, use the momentum to push past Skinner and 
get out of the room, but all the wind was gone from his 
sails.  Skinner took a step closer and rested a hand on 
his shoulder.  This time, Mulder didn't pull away.  

"That's understandable." 

"No it isn't."  Mulder closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, 
steeling himself for uncertainty.  When he opened them 
again, his head rested against the center of Skinner's chest.  
"Everything I've known for the past two years -- what 
amounts to my lifetime, really -- was all wrong." 

"Not wrong, Mulder.  Just incomplete." 

"What do we do now?" 

Skinner sighed and glanced over Mulder's head.  "I 
think we've lost these two for now.  We don't even
know how long they've been here."  He looked down 
again.  "When your first assault fails, you fall
back and regroup.  It's time we brought Peters and 
Aaron over here and discussed our options." 

Options?  As if they had any.  

"I'm going to call a meeting.  We'll need your input.  
Can you handle that?" 

He tilted his head up to look at the older man as
he spoke.  "Do I have a choice?" 

"Of course you do." 

That answer startled him, but the eyes meeting his 
were unwavering.  Mulder hurried to amend his
response.  "Y -- Yeah, I'll be fine."  His head dropped
and he leaned into Skinner again, feeling the other man
bring an arm up and gently rub his back.  "Can I have
a few minutes?" 

Skinner smiled and gave Mulder a hug, then stepped
back.  "It'll take a few minutes to get them down here.  
Just come on out when you're ready." 

He nodded and Skinner left the room, stepping over the 
statue without a comment.  When he'd left, Mulder bent 
down and picked it up, placing it on the bedside table 
this time. 

Still shaking from spent anger, Mulder made his way to 
the bathroom to splash cold water over his face and neck, 
washing the fear off.  There were voices outside now, 
more than just Peters and Aaron.  There was nothing he 
could do, nowhere to run and no way to survive if he did.  
But even that was wrong, since he knew now that people 
had run, and had survived.  

Resigned to the inevitable, Mulder made his way out to 
the common area.  His hands were still shaking, and his 
knees threatened to buckle halfway there, but he continued.  
Sitting around the table, looking seriously confused, were 
not only Aaron and Peters, but also Katherine and Hector.
The last two had been quickly, and apparently on the sly, 
brought up to speed and recruited to search the immediate 
area, but so far Skinner was the only one to set eyes on 
their unknown visitor.  

"I think we can draw quite a few conclusions from his 
behavior."  Aaron leaned forward, elbows on the table, 
and glanced at Mulder for a brief moment as he sat down.  
"Walter was hit from behind, while this man was in full
view.  So we're dealing with two people, and I think we 
should assume that the second one is also from the 
original team." 

"That should be a safe assumption," Peters agreed.  

"We can also assume they were scavenging, searching 
for survival equipment, clothing, food, whatever they 
thought they could find." 

"The clothes were in bad shape, patched and dirty." 

Aaron nodded at Skinner.  "Another reason to believe
they have been living on the edge somewhere for a 
long time.  Here at the station, Mulder had access to
the washers." 

Mulder dared a glance around the table, trying hard 
to read their expressions.  He'd expected something 
closer to a lynch mob, and wondered if Skinner would 
protect him or join in.  

"The problem is, we don't know how long they've 
been here."  Katherine folded her arms in front of
her chest and leaned back in the chair.  "With this
group, as focused on their own projects as everyone 
gets, it might be easy to overlook someone you didn't
quite know.  We were just thrown together at the
start of the mission.  These people, they could easily 
have found other clothes, and hidden themselves 
among us for weeks.  But why keep their presence 
secret?  I mean, obviously they're from the original 
group, right?  They have to know who we are.  What 
are they afraid of?" 

Skinner shrugged.  "Obviously something here made
them afraid to come forward." 

"They must be terrified." 

"They could be some kind of advanced scout," Sanchez 
put in, looking around at everyone questioningly.  "I 
mean, maybe something happened here, that made them
feel it was unsafe.  Obviously there are more survivors, 
and they've been living somewhere hidden.  Maybe they 
just realized the station is occupied again and they need 
to figure out just who and what we are before they risk 
coming out of hiding." 

Mulder noticed everyone's nods ended with a glance at 
him, but he refused to acknowledge them.  It could be a 
trap.  They had to be wondering how much of this news 
was really news to him.  He knew he'd have to watch 
every word he said, and be on guard for deception.  

"Of course, that doesn't explain why they weren't 
living here in the station all along.  Seems the only
safe place, considering." 

There!  That was it.  That was the look he expected
to see.  The one Sanchez was pretending not to direct 
his way.  It had to be what everyone was thinking.  

"No, it doesn't.  But there's a lot of things that aren't 
explained easily around here." Peters pointed at 
Skinner.  "I want these people found.  I know you
didn't sign on to be our security chief, but seeing as
how McMurray has rather -- abdicated -- the responsibility,
I venture to say you're the best man for the job.  What's 
your  best guess as to going about this?" 

"First, we'll need to let everyone in on it." 

Mulder's head shot up as if someone had burst through 
the door.  Everyone?!  Did he really want more people 
convinced of his presumed deceit?  With still over thirty
people in the station, it was a sure bet there would be a 
another McMurray around to start trouble.  

"I agree.  We can't afford to keep secrets here." 

What was that supposed to mean? 

"Yes.  If everyone knows, it would be nearly impossible 
for someone to hide among us undetected.  But they 
have to understand, we may be dealing with damaged 
personalities here.  We don't know if there are more, or 
if these two somehow survived alone, much like Mulder 
did.  They could be just as confused as he is."  Aaron 
glanced at Mulder with a look something close to 
apologetic.  

"Any comments, Mulder?" 

Skinner's question was quietly delivered, but Mulder 
suddenly found all eyes on him, waiting for a reply.
He swallowed hard and desperately attempted a curious 
look.  "I've told you, there's no safe place outside the 
station.  If the creatures don't get you, the cold will.
But I was alone here -- alone.  Where they came from, 
I don't know.  It's just not possible."  Skinner sighed 
and chewed the inside of his lip, and Mulder knew 
immediately that had been the wrong answer.  But he 
didn't have a clue what the right one was.  

"Well, these are the facts: they're from the original team;
Skinner has confirmed the ID on the man he saw.  Sergeant
Michael Salton.  We know they found a safe place to live, 
since obviously they've survived close to two  years
away from this complex.  But they're close enough to 
have realized we were here, or they saw one of our 
research teams." 

"Which could put them almost anywhere we've been." 
Sanchez shook his head.  "Colonel, the only place I can 
possibly see someone setting up a safe haven would be in 
one of the caves.  Something with an easily sealed 
entrance, large enough to house -- we don't know how 
many -- and secure enough to keep those things out
when they run their equipment.  And they'd have to have
equipment.  They haven't survived two years in the 
open -- not in this climate. 

"So far we haven't found any caves that fit that bill." 
Skinner gestured toward Mulder.  "We mapped out
huge sections of the cliff and cave areas around 
those foothills, but everything has a wide open
mouth.  No way to block one of those off easily." 

Mulder listened to the debates and speculations, 
keeping one eye on each of the speakers, and one
on Skinner.  He felt like an outsider all over again, 
distrusted and suspect.  Only now, he had nowhere to
hide, and he might not have anyone to champion his 
cause any longer.  Not to mention the fact that his 
world was still spinning upside down.  After an hour, 
he let his mind blur off their conversations and sent 
his thoughts backwards, trying hard to look at things 
he'd avoided thinking of in the past.  The flashes of 
memory that had been triggered when these people 
first came had tapered off after the creatures returned.  
It was as if his subconscious had something to say, 
something very important that he couldn't put into 
words.  Then, when the truth was revealed, he no 
longer required them.  They'd faded away, replaced 
by recurring nightmares during the recharge 
cycles -- nightmares that had plagued him as 
long as he could remember. 

The voice used to prod him to remember things, 
asking him questions -- "What do you remember about
the people?  Why are you still having nightmares?
What was the nightmare about?  What are you doing
here?  Where did everyone go?  Why can't you remember?"
But that hadn't lasted very long, after little results came 
of it.  But when had it started?  What was his first memory? 
Was it waking in the med lab, with the white lights 
shining down on him, and a voice telling him he was
alone?   Or was there something before that? 

"I almost hate to bring this up."  Sanchez leaned forward 
and looked from Mulder to Skinner.  "But there's
still a chance you were wrong, isn't there?  You were
hit from behind, after all.  And no one else has seen 
this stranger to really confirm it." 

Mulder shook his head once, sharply, stopping Skinner's 
reply.  "He's not the only one.  I saw him too, in the 
kitchen."  He swallowed, realizing what he was committing 
himself to when a quick back door had just been presented.  
"I was three feet away from him."  He glanced quickly at
Skinner.  "I -- knew -- him from before." 

"Knew him?  You recognized him?" 

"No, Mulder didn't remember who he was -- just that he
was familiar."  Skinner sat up straighter and looked at 
Peters.  "We've probably lost him tonight, but just in case, 
you'd better keep an eye out." 

"Agreed.  And I think it's time we told everyone else." 
Peters stood, then leaned forward, hands pressed onto 
the table.  "We'll call a general meeting tonight, get all 
of the department heads together, and fill them in.  They 
can spread the word to their staff tomorrow." 

"I wish we could have had a chance to speak with him 
today."  Aaron stood, followed by Katherine and Hector.  
"We have got to remember to proceed carefully here.  
This man -- these people, however many there are -- must 
be terrified." 

Mulder noticed the look he directed at him at the end of 
his sentence, but he couldn't interpret it.  There was no 
time to ponder the matter while everyone started leaving.  
Peters commented on the lateness of the afternoon, so he 
made quick excuses to slip into the galley and get dinner 
started.  His head was still spinning from information 
overload, and his confrontation with the man in the mirror.
He had the answers, he was sure of it.  So why the secrets?
It just didn't make sense.  What kept them locked away?  
Why couldn't he just drag them out and look at them? 

"That's a good question, Mulder." 

Skinner's statement startled him so badly he nearly dropped 
the steak he was flipping over.  "I didn't realize that was out 
loud.  Sorry." 

Skinner shrugged and reached out for a handful of 
dried mushrooms waiting to be added to the pan.  
"It's still a valid question.  And you're right, it doesn't 
make sense." 

"I don't want to talk about it right now."  He turned up 
the heating unit and dumped the mushrooms in for a
fast saute.  "I don't even want to think.  I just want to 
eat dinner." 

"I'll set the table." 

Mulder glanced up, then returned his attention to the 
food.  He only wished he could stop thinking for a 
while.  In fact, he wasn't really able to think, but his 
mind wasn't able to rest, either.  It kept flipping
from one image to the next, unwilling to hold a 
thought long enough to make sense out of it.  But
everything kept coming back to the main question: why? 

They ate in virtual silence.  Mulder was too busy 
concentrating on the steak once he discovered that
slowed down the confusion.  He didn't notice much 
of what Skinner was doing, other than the fact that
he was still beside him, eating, and occasionally 
looking at him.  That alone was enough to throw off
his concentration so that he'd have to take a bite of 
dinner and chew it long enough to provide a
distraction.  

He felt uncomfortable being there for the first time 
since...  well, since his first time there.  Everything
was upside down and backwards now, what if this 
changed too?  What would he do if he wasn't safe
here?  What would become of him now that he had 
nowhere else to go? 

"Are you through with that plate, or do you want 
to stare a hole through it?" 

"What?"  Mulder looked up and found Skinner 
standing next to him, holding out a hand for the empty
plate.  "Oh."  He handed it over almost reluctantly.  

"Tomorrow morning I want to go over those maps 
you made of our last trip out, see if we missed anything." 

Here it comes, the doubting.  "I didn't miss anything; 
those maps are accurate." 

"I never said they weren't accurate.  But there has to be 
something out there, some kind of evidence of where 
these people lived." 

Mulder stood, maybe a little too quickly.  He felt every 
nerve in his body tense up, and his teeth clamped down 
hard.  "Why don't you just come right out and say it?" 

Skinner looked up from the sink, eyebrows creased.  "What?" 

"You think I'm hiding something, don't you?  You all do. 
You think I've known all along, and I've kept it from you." 

"Known what?  Mulder, what are you talking about?" 

"It doesn't make sense, does it?  A computer can't keep 
secrets from you.  Computers don't just arbitrarily erase
crucial information.  A computer wouldn't withhold the 
facts until those creatures came back, with no warning.  
The records, the logs, all there to convince you all I 
was the only one, only to have someone else show up 
and prove it was all a lie?" 

"Mulder --" 

"No, it doesn't make sense!  Computers are stupid -- they
do what they're told.  No computer would do that!  So 
it must be me, right?  It's what you're all thinking." 

"Listen to me, right now!"  Skinner glared angrily at 
Mulder from the other side of the counter, pointing a
finger at him.  "I've told you, several times, that I 
believe you.  I've told you I'm on your side, haven't
I?" 

"How can I believe anything anymore?  Everything's 
upside down!"  Mulder watched Skinner's eyes for
danger signs.  Those, he could recognize.  If the eyes 
turned to granite and stopped meeting his, he knew
he'd be in serious peril.  This man could tear him apart, 
but he'd be damned if he was going down without a fight.  

"Would you just calm down!"  Skinner's jaw tightened, 
and his eyelids lowered in genuine anger.  "What do 
I have to do to make you believe I'm your friend, huh? 
Because I thought I'd done that already.  Friends trust 
each other, Mulder, no matter what anyone else says, 
does, thinks or feels!  Friends don't change their minds 
because something new comes along, or leave when the 
going gets rough."  The towel he was holding suddenly 
smacked against the counter where it lay, limp and 
lifeless.  "Now, if I haven't proven that to you yet, then 
you just tell me what more I have to do." 

Mulder swallowed hard, completely unsure of what to do.  
His heart was racing -- pounding in his throat -- his hands 
were sweating.  He was scared, but he wasn't sure what of.  

"Just tell me what more I have to do to make you 
understand that I'm your friend, that I trust you,
and I'll do it.  Obviously you don't understand that 
yet, 'cause I've told you time and again that I believe 
you, but you keep coming back in my face waiting 
for me to -- I dunno -- betray you or something.  So, 
just tell me what you want me to do, Mulder, and I'll 
do it.  In the meantime, I'll be up in the meeting, 
helping Peters explain things." 

Before he could say a word, Skinner turned and left.  
Mulder watched him go up the stairs, then heard the 
whoosh as the door opened, a quick slam as it closed, 
then nothing.  Nothing but the raging of blood through 
his ears.  He was so angry he didn't know what to do.  
He wanted to rage, but there was no one there to direct 
his fury toward.  He was alone, again.  

But dammit, he didn't want to be!  What was he thinking?
Skinner had never done anything to make him afraid, 
yet there he was including his only friend in his own 
brand of paranoia.  The man who rescued him when he 
was overwhelmed, took him in when he needed a refuge 
from the sudden invasion, and risked his own life against 
the night creatures.  

"What do I do now?"  Mulder asked the empty room.  
His heart was pounding heavy in his chest, but his feet 
were lead.  Walter went into the meeting, he couldn't 
follow.  Not there.  Not tonight.  He needed ...  he 
wanted to be alone.  For the first time in as long as he
could remember, he wanted to be alone.  With a heavy 
thump, Mulder folded into the couch.  By pulling up his 
feet, he could curl into the cushions and pretend the world 
had vanished.  He could make a pot of tea, add a little
something, and the world really *would* vanish.

Only he didn't want it to vanish.  He wanted to erase the 
entire day, and start over again.  Even if he had to include 
Skinner's discovery.  Of all the ways he could have 
handled the situation, he'd certainly chosen the wrong 
one.  Panic and fear.  He was supposed to be getting past 
that.  Skinner had been helping him get past that, and what 
had he done?  Panicked.  Faced with the possible answer 
to every question he'd ever had, he ran from it like a 
frightened child.  Skinner had done everything he could to
protect him then, too.  Short of lying about the man completely.  

But now what? God, he'd made his friend mad!  He had 
no right to those doubts, not where Skinner was 
concerned.  Yet time and time again, in his selfish 
sense of paranoia, he'd lumped his friend right in there 
with all the nameless, unrecognizable people he feared.  
Now what was he going to do?  Apologize, naturally.  
But how?  Would Walter accept it?  Had he really gone 
too far this time?  Did Walter have a tolerance level 
that -- once breached -- never returned things to the 
way they'd been? 

Mulder sat on the couch, brooding and trying to imagine 
the proper way a person apologized for such acts of 
doubt.  He'd never done this before, not in his 
remembered life, at least.  Of course, he never had 
a friend like this before, either, so it was all untried 
territory.  Surely Walter would understand that,
and make some allowances?  Yes or no, he had to 
try.  Walter was his only hope here now.  The only
protector he had, or was likely to ever have.  No 
matter how he went about it, he had to apologize.
He had to make Walter understand that he didn't 
doubt, didn't mistrust him.  There wasn't anything
more Walter had to do to prove his friendship -- how 
could there be? God, he had to try!