DOUBLE VISION
by: Cheryl Cohen
(alias: The Stinker)

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FORWARD

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Here I go again...Yes, as before...This story is baded on the characters
and situations created by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions.  And
no, I didn't ask first, even though no infringment of copyrights etc. are
intended. 
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*****

Fox Mulder pulled the car into the parking garage with a sharp right turn
and came to a screeching halt in front of the cement barrier.  He slid
from his seat, walked quickly to the other side of the car and cheerfully
opened the passenger door.

Scully slowly opened her tightly closed eyes and carefully removed her
white-knuckled hand from the dashboard.  "My God Mulder, This isn't the
Indy 500...what's the hurry?"

"No hurry," he commented a little dejectedly.  "Didn't ya ever just want
to open er' up to see what she'd do?"

"Mulder," she replied with long suffering patience, "This is a
Taurus....Not a Farari.  Your lucky that Highway Patrolman didn't pull you
over....I think you peeled the decal off his door when you flew by."

"Bet the rest of his coffee probably landed in his lap too,"  he chuckled
softly.   "Ah, come on, Dana, It's Spring...lighten up a little.  It's a
gorgeous day!  Sun's shining, birds singing, hell, even the cherry trees
are in bloom ...and you look absolutely beautiful," he quipped in a light
banter as he favored her with a wide grin. " So what if we have to park
two blocks away because a lot of Bureau big wigs decided to pick today to
go on a tour.  I'm in the mood to walk, anyway."

"My, aren't you positively perky today," she observed as one eyebrow
climbed into her bangs.

"And why shouldn't I be?  Got my files, got the best night of sleep that
I've had in years, and...." he whispered in a conspiring manor as he
leaned in close to her ear, "I got you.  Dana do you realize that I didn't
wake up once all night?  I slept like a baby."

"Yes, I know....I was there.  Remember?" she asked smugly.

"You were?" he asked teasingly with feigned ignorance...."and I thought it
was just one of those suggestive erotic dreams...hmm....."

She reached over and knuckle-punched him in the arm.

"Ow! Subject...Dana Scully is suffering from acute hypo-humorous syndrome
with tendencies toward violent aggression," he stated in most serious
psychologist's voice while rubbing his bruised arm.  "World famous
psychologist, Fox Mulder, suggests that she take at least two happy pills
twice daily until the condition improves."

"Mulder, it's against the law to prescribe without a license."

"Pick, pick, pick....For your information I *am* licensed and can
prescribe happy pills all day long if I feel like it."

"Fine, in that case...I want some of whatever you're on...."

It's amazing, she thought, what a little sleep and relaxation could do for
a person.  Truth was they had lain wake for several hours the previous
night...just talking about everything from Einstein to U2.  She enjoyed it
when they could talk, for each time she would learn just a little bit more
about what made Fox Mulder tick.  His range of knowledge on various
subjects was impressive and although she had no idea what his IQ was, for
it was conspicuously absent from all of his records, she had no doubt that
it was formidable.  She had inquired about it once....and only once, since
the question sparked an in depth lecture as to why he thought IQ tests
were arbitrary and self-defeating in nature by making "intelligent people"
apathetic because it convinced them that they knew everything and by
making those with lesser ability think that they could accomplish less
than they could.  He then had insisted emphatically that his scores would
not be waved around like a "fucking banner" by higher ups to impress
Bureau VIPS.....a statement that in itself proved to her that whatever his
IQ,  it must have been a lot "better than average."  They were right in
the middle of a discussion of the "temporal time displacement theory,"
when he'd unceremoniously dozed off, leaving her alone in her thoughts. 
Yes, he'd slept soundly and peacefully and the results were phenomenal. 
The lightness of manner and the spring in his step were undeniable as she
picked up her pace to fall in step beside him.  Reaching out, she touched
his arm and was rewarded with a wide, full, smile that radiated an
uninhibited beam of warmth and affection.  She was so unaccustomed to
witnessing such a rare and open display of unguarded emotion from him that
experiencing it now felt almost....embarrassing, yet this was the kind of
embarrassment that she wouldn't mind learning to live with.

Dana returned his smile with a moderate one of her own for his mood was
contagious.  He was full of spit and fire today that almost bordered  on
his being a pain in the ass and nothing short of a major disaster was
gonna spoil it for him.

"Oh, I don't know," he said breathing deeply.  "Maybe it's something in
the air.   It just seems like a great day for tracking down wayward
aliens, and capturing errant, scum-sucking sewer mutants, you know,
'Spooky Patrol' stuff," he laughed with mirthful eyes.  "Hey Dana, don't
dawdle.  We've got places to go and people to annoy," he joked happily as
they stopped at a street corner and waited for the light to change.

>From the corner of his eye he saw her.  A young woman was running through
the crowd, briefly looking over her shoulder as she moved into the street
against the light.  She didn't see the oncoming car...but he did and
yelled frantically to her as he dashed into the street to try and pull her
from danger.  He had reacted instinctively before Scully had a chance to
restrain him and all she could do was scream, "Mulder, NO!!" and watch
helplessly from the curb as the speeding vehicle impacted with the two
fragile human forms.


He heard a thud and felt himself lifted into the air.  This was really
weird because it had occurred to him that he'd never felt himself fall. 
How long could a person remain airborne?  He had to land sometime, he
thought abstractly, and braced himself for the inevitable meeting of flesh
and pavement.  He waited....but still no contact with anything that he
could judge as solid.  A blinding white light blazed hotly in his brain,
making it difficult to see around the spots that formed before his eyes
and he felt strangely disoriented and mildly dizzy.

A lone woman  walked toward him, at least he thought she was walking for
the ground....if there was a ground, was covered with mist.

"Dana?" he asked in confusion.  No......no,  this wasn't Dana.  This woman
was tall and serene looking with long, brown hair.  He didn't think he
knew her, although she seemed vaguely familiar, yet she apparently knew
him, for she called him by name.

"How did you know my name?" he finally got up enough nerve to ask.

"I'm psychic," she told him with a shadowy smile.

"Oh, *that* explains everything," he replied sardonically.

"You are *not* a very careful man," she admonished him, reaching out to
take his hand.

Seems he'd heard this lecture before.....

"You don't happen to know someone named Dana Scully, do you?"  Jesus
Christ, he thought with some trepidation, her lectures even followed him
into this place, where ever this place was.

"I only know her through you," she replied with tinkling laughter," and
she's right ....about a lot of things, it seems."

"Who are you?" he inquired suspiciously.

"You don't know me....I'm a total stranger," she said, "which makes this
all the more remarkable."

"What?" he asked.  "What's remarkable...I don't understand."

"The fact that you don't see anything remarkable in what you did....that
you could be unselfish enough to try and save someone that you don't even
know when those who *should* be that way would not have even offered."

"Wait a minute," he gasped in dawning realization...."you're the woman in
the crowd...someone was chasing you--you were frightened and ran into the
street.  I........am I dead?" he questioned her as fear and panic clamped
down on his heart.

"Goodness no," she answered in a voice tinged with amusement, "I am."

"Huh? Oh, now *that's* a real comfort," he commented dryly, as he slapped
his forehead with the palm of his hand.  Go figure.  The first time that
he'd actually gotten some sleep and really felt good, he ended up in La La
Land, talking to a dead person.  Dana will *never* believe *this* one.

"Hey, if I'm not dead, how is it that I can talk to you, if you are?"

"Because you believe," she smiled.

"Right...I believe in bigfoot too but that doesn't necessarily mean that
I'm gonna find a Yeti in my living room...now does it?  Where am I?"

"Somewhere between here and there."  She motioned playfully with her hand
from one side to the other.

"In other words," he mumbled ruefully, "Ya can't get there from here. 
Damn it, I'm lost again and I wasn't even looking at a map....are you
*sure* you don't know Dana Scully?"

The woman laughed out loud, turned to walk away and as he attempted to
follow, she raised her hand to his chest to stop him.

"You can not come with me, Fox, it is not yet your time.  There's too much
left for you to do and someone impatiently awaits your return.  You must
go back," she informed him as she walked away toward the light.

"Wait....don't leave me here alone," he pleaded.

"You won't be alone.... I will be with you," she whispered cryptically. 
"Thank you for trying to help me."

"How do I get back," he puzzled out loud.

"You could try tapping your heels together three times and repeating
'there's no place like home,'" she snickered lightly.

"Wonderful," he sighed.  "Millions of dead people floating around and I
have to get one who specializes in snide remarks.....does this mean when I
wake up, everything will be in black and white?"  He turned to look at her
but she was gone.  What now?

A now familiar voice softly echoed through his mind and began to fade from
memory.  "Just believe," it said over and over again..."just believe."

God, he was cold.  Sterile antiseptic odors attacked his sense of smell as
he hung on at the edge of consciousness for what seemed like hours before
his mind slowly began to clear.  He awoke to find himself in a hospital
bed, and sporting one of those damn gowns that never quite seemed to cover
what they needed to.  They all must be designed by short people, he
figured, and anyone over  5'10" was SOL.

Opening his eyes, he turned his head slightly to see Scully discussing him
with another doctor.

"If there's nothing wrong with him, why has he been comatose for the last
five hours?"  she growled in frustration..

"I can't answer that, Dr. Scully.  All I can tell you is that besides a
broken arm, some minor cuts and bruises and a mild concussion, all other
tests are negative, including the CAT scan and the EEG."

"Then why doesn't he wake up?"

"I don't know," he said, feeling somewhat inadequate for not having any of
the answers that she wanted to hear.

Poor guy, Mulder reasoned.....He'd been on the wrong end of Dana's
frustration before and knew what the young doctor would go through if he
didn't speak up and let her know that he was ok.

"Dana?" he rasped.  His voice sounded distant and slurred in his ears and
he was uncertain as to whether or not he'd actually spoken when she turned
suddenly and gazed directly into his blurry eyes.

"Thank God,"  she replied in relief, as she propped him up in a modified
sitting position and impulsively brushed the hair from his eyes again. 
Satisfied that he would be all right, she raised her voice.  "What in the
*hell* did you think you were doing?  You picked one hell of a time to
play hero."  Her tone hovered somewhere between anger and concern.  She
let her hands drop limply to her side in defeat, then raised one and
placed it tenderly on top of his head, ruffling the silky strands of his
hair lightly with her fingers.  "I'm sorry," she murmured quietly.  "I
know that you could no more stand by and watch somebody get run down any
more than I could refuse medical attention to an injured man...It's just
that it's very frightening to see someone that you care about being
slammed by 2,000 lbs. of steel and hurled 15 feet through the air and into
a light pole.  Call me crazy, but that makes for a few anxious moments."


"I was in an accident?" he asked in surprise.

"You mean...you don't remember?" she questioned, knitting her brows with
concern.

"No......I......The last thing I remember is joking with you about the
"Spooky Patrol."  He stared down at the IV in his right arm and the cast
on his left, met her eyes, then guiltily averted his as he spoke with a
resigned sigh.  "I've done it again, haven't I?"

"Yes, I'd say that once again youv'e managed to validate the existence of
modern medical technology," she remarked wryly.

She'd noticed that since he'd awakened, he'd been looking at her oddly,
squinting his eyes, and occasionally tilting his head as if to see if the
view of her altered from a different angle.  He'd just done it again and
she raised one eyebrow questioningly in response.  "What?" she asked.

"I think something must be wrong with my eyes," he ventured in response,
"or hospitals have started using black lights or something."

Walking around the bed, she grabbed an instrument off a tray and expertly
shone the light in each eye, testing his responses.

"Everything appears to be normal," she stated factually. "Blurred vision
is not uncommon in cases of head injury...even if the injury is not
serious."

"But it's not blurry...it's as if you're....."outlined"....like when you
turn off the TV and you can still see the image on the screen even though
the picture is gone.  It's not around everything."  He looked at the
doctor standing in the hallway..".just "living" things. There's a blue
ring around your whole body, except for your elbow....it's kinda
red....How did you hurt it?"

Her mouth dropped open in astonishment.  "I twisted it when we were trying
to move you into the ambulance.  How did you know that?"

His face took on a perplexed expression as he attempted to figure out
exactly how he *did* know that.  "I don't know.....I mean, I'm not really
sure.  I  just *felt* brief impressions of pain...the "red" felt like
pain." He reached up and rubbed the area between his eyes with his thumb
and forefinger and shook his head slowly.  "Got an aspirin, Scully?  This
is giving me a major headache....please tell me it's only temporary."

She squeezed his shoulder gently in sympathy and whispered soothingly, "I
don't know what it could be so just close your eyes and try to relax and
I'll get Dr. Weston to order some more tests if it doesn't improve in the
next hour or so.  OK?"

"Yeah, sure...."  He closed his eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep,
dreaming dreams he knew he would not remember of a ghost that he was not
sure existed.  What was reality anyway, his mind voice asked in this limbo
state of consciousness?  He did not feel alone in here...he was not
possessed, but he was sure he was not "alone" either.  The presence he
felt was not Evil, or harmful...in fact it was almost....loving,
nurturing.. in a way, even protective.  He heard a familiar voice calling
him and he fought his way back through the layers of his dreams and
thoughts to cling to that voice and to draw strength from it's insistence
that he return.  He felt a sting to his face and the pain registered in
his brain.

"Mulder!  Mulder wake up!"  she yelled in his face and drew back her hand
to slap him again.

His eyelids fluttered and he slowly opened his eyes to see his partner
getting ready to smack him in the face.  Startled, he asked, "Jesus, what
did I do?" 

Clearly shaken, she took a deep breath.  "You were slipping into a coma
again...Mulder, every test we've given you says you're the picture of
health, yet two minutes ago your brain nearly put up a sign that said
'closed for business'."

"I feel fine now," he stated with conviction.  "I only see the "rings"
once in a while and only when I'm thinking about it and the headache is
gone.  Can I get out of here?"

"My first inclination would be to say *no," but medically, I can't  find
any reason to keep you here.  So I guess you're gonna have to put up with
me as your second shadow, cause I'm not leaving you alone with a brain
that may or may not need a jump start if you fall asleep."

"Dana, that's not very practical.  You can't be with me 24 hours a day,
seven days a week and even though I don't get very much of it, everybody
has to fall asleep sometime.  Besides, it's probably just some temporary
thing that will lessen in time and other than being a little stiff, I
really *do* feel quite good."

"For Christ sake, Mulder, You just got run over by car,  and the hit and
run driver  killed the woman you were trying to save.  You can't tell me
that you feel *good* because I know something about what goes on up here,"
she poked his forehead with her finger, "and the Mulder I know would be
blaming himself for everything from not being fast enough to not yelling
loud enough, even though there was nothing that he could have done about
any of it."

"I'm really *that* bad, huh?"

"Yes, you really are."

"Maybe you'd be right, if I remembered any of it....I don't.  I'm taking
your word for it because I trust you and you wouldn't lie to me but I
honestly don't know what happened.  I will admit to maybe needing  a
couple of aspirin, though."  He arose stiffly from his semi - sitting
position and swung his long legs carefully over the edge of the bed until
his feet touched the floor as he impulsively tried  to grasped the back of
the gown with his right hand.   Well shit, why all this sudden concern for
modesty, he thought oddly.  Dana was the only other person in the room and
she probably knew his body better than he did.  Some things just didn't
seem to fit exactly they way they were supposed to....like a jigsaw puzzle
when you try to cheat and make the pieces fit.  Part of him felt that
everything was the way it should be and part of him was convinced that he
should be somewhere else doing something different.  Maybe things would
become less muddled with time...maybe the fog would leave him and his
inner vision would clear and everything would be hunky dory.  Where in the
hell did that expression come from, he pondered, mildly alarmed, for he
knew it wasn't one of his.  "Hunky dory?" he repeated out loud.

"What did you say?"

"Ah....nothing."  He wasn't gonna tell her anything until he figured out
what the hell was going on.  Then again, maybe she could help.....but on
the other hand, she might figure that he'd finally flipped and call ahead
for a rubber room reservation and a straight jacket with his name on it. 
"Do I have any clothes here that aren't screwed up beyond recognition?"

"I thought you might be needing them if and when you decided to wake up so
I had someone stop by the office and pick up the extra set you kept
there."


"I'm so lucky that you're so efficient," he replied with a lopsided grin. 
"Can you take this thing out of my arm?" he asked, raising his arm with IV
dangling.

"I can't," she said regretfully. " The attending physician has to order it
and I'm *not* the attending physician."

"Fine, Guess I'll have to do it myself."  He reached over and yanked on
the tube, pulling it free and sending a small trickle of blood down his
arm.  Seeing his own blood suddenly made him nauseous. Oh, you're a real
macho kinda guy aren't you, Mulder, he though briefly before he threw up
on the floor.  Pale-faced and slightly shaken he glanced at Scully from
beneath his thick lashes and panting, asked, "Can you at least give me a
band aide?"

"I suppose I could do *that,*" she replied with a smirk.  She took a small
gauze pad, placed it on his arm, and taped it down.

"Thanks Doc, Now,  could you please spring me from this joint, huh
copper?"

"I'll see what I can do."

Dana paid the taxi driver and helped Mulder out of the car.  Personally,
she thought he should've stayed in the hospital...at least overnight but
his stubborn pigheadedness won out and here she was Mulder-sitting, not
that she minded...it was just that for once, she wished that he'd stop
swimming upstream and do what was in his best interest.  So much for pipe
dreams.  

"Well that's a whole potentially fabulous day all shot to hell," he
scowled regretfully, as they walked through the now emptying parking
garage.  "No Reticulans or slimy mutants today, damn."

"Relax, I 'm sure there'll still be some hanging around tomorrow...."

"Nah, it won't be the same...besides, tomorrow is reserved for annoying
the MIB and the Bureau Assistant Director..."

"I didn't know you had to reserve a time for that...seems to me like you
achieve that goal on a fairly regular basis."  One corner of her mouth
crooked up in a crafty smile.

"Well, at least I'm consistent."

They arrived at their car just in time to see Henderson fumbling with a
stack of files, trying to get her car key into the door lock.

"Hey Henderson, ever think about applying to Ringling Brothers for a
juggler position? I hear they'd don't pay all that well, but the perks are
good." He winked at her and smiled.

"Shut up, Mulder....unless you want a cast on the other arm too.  By the
way, how are you feeling?  Heard you took quite a tumble today..."

"Feelin' good enough to hassle you....allow me."  He took the key from her
hand, inserted it into the lock and immediately felt as though he'd been
electrocuted.  Stumbling backward into the Taurus that was parked
alongside, he gasped for air as a sharp pain singed his brain and unbidden
images flashed through his mind.  Images of blood, twisted wreckage, an
Henderson....unmoving and staring lifelessly back at him.  He had the
impression of sliding helplessly and being unable to stop as a loud
explosion and flash of light engulfed him.  Then it was over and he leaned
trembling and pallid against the car.

"Mulder! What happened? Are you all right?" Scully grabbed his arm as his
knees buckled and he slid down the car to the pavement.  "I knew I should
have left you in the hospital," she grumbled, chastising herself as she
took his vitals and gently pulled up his eyelids to check his pupils.

"Is he OK?" Henderson asked worriedly.

"I think so, but he's going back to the hospital...this is *not* normal
and this time they better find out what it is," she said with
determination.

"No," he garbled defiantly.  "It's not that...Henderson, don't drive that
car.  There's something wrong with the car,....get it checked.  Don't ask
me how I know, I just do.  Take a cab, have Dana drive you, but don't get
in *that* car."  He grabbed the door handle and stood up shakily as the
color began to return to his face.  Henderson made an attempt to take the
key from his hand so he hauled back and threw the damn thing as far as he
could, which was pretty damn far....there were some advantages to playing
right field after all, he thought with some satisfaction.

Dana drove Henderson home and called for the motor pool to inspect the car
as Mulder had insisted and then drove him to his apartment.  She followed
him inside with an air of determination for  he was hiding something from
her.  She was sure of it and that bothered her to no end since she felt
closer to him than any other human being on earth, with maybe, the
exception of her mother.  She took consolation in the fact that Fox Mulder
was perhaps the most inept liar in the entire universe and at least she
could tell when he'd been less than truthful.  In  this case however, he'd
not actually lied to her about anything but he had kept something from her
which in her book was equally annoying.  I t hurt her feelings to think
that he might not trust her and it was time for a confrontation, she
reasoned.  She was ready to back him into a corner because she knew that
if she pressured him for answers, he'd eventually spill his guts...he
always did.  They both knew it...sometimes the whole procedure seemed
almost like a ritual.  He just had this aggravating habit of trying to
figure out everything for himself first before  letting her in on whatever
was going on at the time.  Perhaps he still felt the need to be able to
prove things to her....whatever the reason he was going to tell her what
was going on with him and he was going to tell her *now*.

She  slammed the door to the room with a bang and stood with her hands
planted firmly on her hips.

He took one look at the stance and the expression on her face and knew he
was in deep shit and wasn't gonna walk away from this one without drawing
some flies in the process.  So what could he really tell her?  What did he
really know?  He didn't know much, that's for sure but he had the
overwhelming feeling that he was going to have to tell her what he did
know even though it sounded bizarre even to him.

"So?" she inquired in a demanding tone.

"So...what?"  He replied rather non committally.

"What's going on with you, Mulder?  You nearly collapsed in the parking
garage and started babbling about something being wrong with the car and
to top it off you sent Henderson's key on a one way trip to oblivion. 
Now, I may concede that you might not know exactly what's happening but
you could at least let me in on what you *do* know."

He stood for several minutes, indecisive, weighing the believability
quotient against what he thought she might except and concluded that if he
were Scully, he'd have a difficult time believing him.  Maybe his brain
finally* had* turned to sawdust and he needed to make an appointment with
the Wizard to ask for a new one.  Something clicked in his
head...something to do with the Wizard of OZ....There's no place like
home, he thought....a woman had told him that.......the woman in the
crowd.....she was....killed, his fault...he was too slow.  But he'd never
spoken to her so how could she have told him that?  ....You can not
come.....it's not your time......don't leave me here alone....I will be
with you....Oh my God,  Jesus Christ, he remembered, he remembered it all.
 She'd died and he'd been vulnerable, his mind open and receptive.  She
said she was physic.  Could what he'd been experiencing have been her
visions, her abilities...or could they have been something that had lain
dormant within himself?

Dana watched anxiously as her partner's composure and perhaps even his
sanity appeared to unravel before her eyes.  His facial expression went
from one of indecision, to puzzlement, to recognition, and finally to one
of near panic in a matter of minutes.  He finally collapsed onto the couch
and bent over with his face in his hands.  She crossed the room quietly,
sat down beside him  and noticing the tears that dripped silently to the
floor, took him gently in her arms and held him until he was ready to talk
to her.

He brought his head up slowly and wiped his eyes with the back of his
hand.  "I remember, Dana...I remember it all."

"It wasn't your fault," she said with compassion.

"No, you don't understand," he stammered with a look that said he dreaded
what he was going to say and knowing that he was compelled to tell her
anyway.

He told her everything that he remembered as well as what he saw in the
episodes containing the impressions and visions and although she listened
intently, he was not entirely certain that she didn't think he'd lost it
completely.

"Dana, I've never been precognitive or telepathic or any of those
things...at least I've never admitted to any of them. Maybe I've been
intuitive upon occasion but as far as I know, I've never had visions
before.  What other explanation is there?  Please, I want to hear one...I
need to hear one.  I have this feeling that there's something I'm supposed
to do and I just can't seem to figure out what it is, except that it's
important."


The phone rang and Scully answered.  He assumed from her manner that it
must be the motor pool with their report on the car...She glanced at him,
then slowly hung up the phone.

"Well, Sherlock, as bizarre as your theory may sound, I'm willing to admit
that there may be some shred of credibility to it....that was the motor
pool.   Henderson's break line had a major leak and there was probably
only enough fluid to get her about 4 miles before her breaks would have
become totally useless....and that would have put her on freeway."

She noticed that his countenance had lightened a little with that piece of
information and with the knowledge of her belief in him restored, she saw
the determination of purpose form in his eyes.

"We've got to find out everything there is to know about that woman....her
name, where she was from, what she did for a living...who her friends
were....everything."

"Now?  It's 8:00 at night and you've been through a lot today.  Don't you
think you're pushing it?  I mean we could get a fresh start in the
morning.....you need to rest."

"There's no time...whatever I need to do or find out....it's
important--and time is running out.  Don't ask me how I know cause I
couldn't tell you..I just KNOW.  I'm going back to the office to access
the computers...I need a background on her."

"Ok, If you're bent on doing this, you know I'll go with you.  Besides, I
wouldn't trust you behind the wheel of a car right now anyway."

They'd been searching for information about Kava Yeltzin, which was the
name listed in the police report,  for nigh on to three hours and were
coming up empty in a lot of areas.  Since she had been attached to the
Romanian foreign embassy a lot of her background information had not been
available to them with the standard FBI clearances.  Fox Mulder, however,
undaunted by this minor setback, called in a few favors from some people
in some high places and managed to get a detailed report from an
unidentified source within the CIA.

Dana eyed Mulder silently and noted with concern, that the stress and
frustration of this day had worn heavily upon him and his exhaustion was
beginning to express itself in both his face and posture.  She shook her
head as he held up the faxed report above his head in a gesture of
victory.

"I swear Mulder, for a man who puts up with as much crap as you do around
here, you seem to have more than your share of influential friends in both
high and strange places."

"See Scully, not everybody hates me..."  He smiled wickedly as he read
through the report.  He then handed it to her, walked to his desk, sat
down and propped up his feet.

"She was working on an anti-terrorist response team as a "psychic
advisor."  My God, Mulder...according to this report her abilities were
documented and proven and she was used to locate and diffuse terrorist
activities throughout the world.  If this is true, then...."

"She would be terrorism's worst possible nightmare," he finished for her.
"Someone leaked information about her to the wrong people....and they had
her killed.  Dana, that hit and run was *no* accident, it was murder.  She
knew about something important, something that was going to happen,
something that had to be stopped.  She was running out of time and needed
to tell someone but there was no time and no one to tell."

"Except you," she found herself saying in wonder.

"Except me,  and I'm to goddamn dense to figure it out"...he berated
himself in frustrated anger.  "I've got as much of a chance at stopping
whatever is going to happen as having a house fall on my head...".<when I
wake up will everything be in black and white?>...He looked at the girl's
picture lying on the desk....<just believe>....He opened his mouth to tell
Dana what he was hearing and suddenly found himself flung back against the
wall.  The vision assaulted his senses and an anxiety that he couldn't
explain clamped down heavily upon his chest and threatened to squeeze the
oxygen from his lungs.  His heart raced, it's pulse pounding relentlessly
at his temples until he thought it would burst as waves of nausea swept
through him like an incoming tide.  It was happening again and he was
powerless to stop it..or did he really want to?  What about the lives he
could save--the disasters he could prevent?  Wasn't that worth the
physical  and emotional pain he suffered because of this anomaly?  But he
was tired....so tired.  He wasn't certain that he could survive the
continual bombardment of raw pain and emotion from those around him as
well as cope with what he referred to as precognitive guilt...knowing what
would happen and perhaps not being able to change the outcome. How much
guilt could one man endure?  Surely he'd already had enough for one
lifetime.

The Suddenness of the attack caught Dana by surprise and she was
momentarily stunned as she watched Mulder stumble backward to the wall,
double over in apparent pain and drop to his knees.

A blinding flash exploded from the tail section.  The sound of ripping
metal filled the air as
hundreds of souls screamed with terror and pain and he felt them all.  Oh
God, not fire.....The flames burned his skin and putrid smoke fouled with
the stench of burning flesh and fuel stung his eyes and throat.  Wreckage 
lay twisted and shredded in pieces on the ground but he could not stop so
he pushed on and...on... he needed a name, a flight....something.  There
it was...a tomb of modern technology....AmAir 422.  He cried out for
help...his hold on reality tenuous as he ried to escape this horror, yet
he could not turn his back on the hundreds of anguished eyes that sought
his help and the phantom hands that tore at his clothing and pulled him
back...back into the nightmare to force him to face his fear and change
their destiny.  Their voices called his name over and over again,
"Fox....Fox..."  It was the same frightened crescendo he'd tried to block
from his memory twenty-two years before.  He was a child then and unable
to respond, forced to watch helplessly as his sister was taken from him. 
Well, goddamn it, he thought angrily, he was no longer a child, he was a
man and this time he did not have to be helpless.  He closed his eyes
against the sights and sounds that tormented him and turned back to press
through his phobia as the flames singed his hair and skin.  He made his
way to the source of the blast for the information he needed would be
there, if he could survive long enough to get it.

Regaining her composure, Dana quickly rushed to his side and studied his
trembling form, now huddled on the floor, flush against the wall.  She
reached out to gently take his pulse and he flinched at her touch, his
skin unnaturally hot beneath her fingertips.  His heart raced as beads of
perspiration formed on his forehead and the veins in his neck and temples
protruded with the sudden increase in blood pressure.  She noted in alarm
that his breaths were coming in short, ineffectual gasps, decided that
this episode was possibly more than she could handle and fearing for his
life, picked up the phone to call 911.

He was there...he'd made it, but what was it that he was expected to find?
 Searching the wreckage, he'd come up empty and sat down into the ashes in
weary defeat.  He lifted his eyes heavenward and lamented in despair,
"Show me....this is *your* vision, damn it--give me a fucking hint, will
ya?"  Looking down to his previously empty hands, he discovered that he
held a small portable radio and within it was an inconspicuous 3 oz. block
of C4 explosive.....an impression of a warehouse and a globe fleetingly
crossed his mind as reality reasserted itself solidly around him.

She'd punched in the nine on the office phone when his hand clamped down
on her wrist with an iron grip.  Startled, she dropped the phone to the
floor and discovered that he'd returned from where ever this latest
phenomenon had sent him.

"I'm ok," he sighed tiredly as he released her arm.

"Pardon me, if I don't believe you," she replied doubtfully, favoring him
with an intense stare.  He squirmed uncomfortably under her watchful gaze
and began to scramble unsteadily to his feet.

"All right," he conceded, "maybe I'm not completely OK, but I think I know
what's going down...The report stated that the last assignment Kava was
working on involved a little known but highly fanatical terrorist group
called the PFF (Palestine Freedom Fighters).  Dana, they're gonna blow up
an airliner."


"How do you know that?" she asked skeptically.

"I saw it....I was there," he whispered hoarsely.   "There'll be 3 oz. of
C4 placed in a portable radio that will be  left in the tail section of
the plane, that is unless I can find the bastards and stop them first
before they can get that far.  The target is AMAIR, flight 422.  I know
you find all of this a little hard to swallow Dana, and if I were you, I
probably would too, but please believe me when I tell you that I am
*certain* that what I *saw* is true.  The only thing I can't be certain of
exactly, is *when*.  It could be tonight, could be tomorrow or a week from
tomorrow...I don't know....just *soon*.  I had an impression of a
warehouse and a globe of some kind so get me a list of warehouses in the
area and narrow it down to the ones that have a globe or world in the logo
or title."

"Why don't you just have all the flight 422s searched?"

"Come on Dana, and tell them what?  Tell them that "Spooky Mulder" is now
seeing "visions" of gloom and doom and hears "voices" that tell him the
future?  Oh, Skinner would just have a goddamn field day with *that*---I
can hear the cell door slam now.  I need to find a "legitimate" reason  to
search the plane if it comes to that and finding these bastards will
provide a reason for probable cause.  Besides, just getting rid of the
bomb *this* time, though it would save lives, wouldn't prevent them from
doing it again."

"I'm sorry, I guess I hadn't really thought about it in those terms."

"That's only because people don't tend to doubt *your* sanity on a daily
basis," he commented with softly smiling, hazel eyes.

She laughed with an understanding nod of her head and headed for the
computer.  "I'll find your warehouse," she said with a certainty she
wasn't sure that she felt.

"I have no doubts that you will," he agreed with a knowing smile as he
lowered himself wearily to the chair at his desk and propped the heavy
cast on top of couple of books stacked there.  His arm  had begun to ache
a few hours back and now on top of that an infernal itch set in.  Grabbing
an extra large paper clip out of his drawer, he unbent it, shoved it down
between the cast and his arm, and tried unsuccessfully to alleviate the
torture.  To his dismay, even after about a half hour  of attempting
different angles, he found that he could not reach the *right* spot. 
"Arrrg," he growled as he spiked the bent wire on the desk top, flipping
it unceremoniously to the floor, then just ran his fingernails over the
outside of the plaster and made a pitiful whimpering sound under his
breath.  So engrossed was he in trying to solve this new problem, that he
hadn't noticed Dana as she walked up behind him and jumped in startled
surprise when she place her hand on his shoulder.  

"Itches, huh?" she stated with an almost humorous glint in her eyes.

He could tell just by the way she said it that she'd been observing his
futile, and now that he thought about it, probably comical attempts to
remedy an impossible situation.
"Like hell," he replied with an equal amount of mischief showing in his
own eyes.

"Maybe I can make you forget about it....later," she teased, noticing a
sudden double take and pique of interest that changed his mood like a
magic wand.  "But for now," she added, the computer narrowed down the
possible warehouses to these three," she said handing him the list.  He
took it gingerly from her hand and scanned the three remaining names,
running his finger down the short list until he came to the last entry and
stopped.  A sly smile spread across his face as he muttered in a low
voice, "Gotcha....Dana, I know where they are---it's almost too damn
easy."

"OK, I'm sufficiently *impressed*, how do you know?"

"Besides having one of those pesky *Feelings* about it, take a look at the
first letter of the first word in the title of the last company's
name...."Pier Five Franchises Global Storage."

Taking the paper back from him she noticed that the initials of the last
company were indeed "PFF"---but *that* could very well be just a
coincidence, she thought objectively.

As though reading her mind, he commented, "Of course it could be
coincidental, but there's only one way to find out...Come on,  let's go
for a little 'look-see'."  He arose slowly from the chair and with
concentrated effort, crossed the room toward the door, gathering up his
jacket as he went.

She still thought he looked rather pale and insisted on driving despite
the fact that the front seat in this particular car was solid and their
difference in height practically forced his knees up under his chin.  She
glance furtively at him as he sat there uncomfortably hunched, stoic and
uncomplaining and realized it was these "small" things about him that
sometimes endeared him to her the most.  He would suffer in silence and
not mention that her insistence to drive was putting cramps in his legs or
cricks in his neck.

They pulled up a block away from the warehouse which was located in a
deserted area complete with inadequate lighting.  Scully jumped from the
car and moved quickly to the sidewalk as Mulder carefully unfolded himself
from the front seat and stretched before joining her.  They padded quietly
around the building and searched for a way to enter unannounced, finding
it in the form of a broken window on the far side of the building.

At first everything looked normal as far as deserted warehouses were
concerned and he was about to concede that perhaps his instincts in this
instance had been in error when he tripped over a box that had fallen on
the floor.  Reaching down to pick it up he noticed that the contents were
marked "blasting caps" and upon further inspection, discovered rows and
rows of similarly marked boxes, along with automatic weapons and various
other instruments of destruction earmarked for every third world country
known to man.  If these weren't the terrorists that he was looking for,
they were at least individuals heavy into the illegal arms trade which
made them, in his book...just as deadly and this was one place that he
didn't want to get caught in without backup.  He turned and looked at
Scully who had simultaneously turned to look at him and the message that
wordlessly passed between them registered in the form of a quick retreat
toward their entry point while Scully called for backup on her cellular
phone.

They heard voices heading in their direction from where they were going
and were forced to fall back into the building again to hide in the
shadows between two tightly packed rows of boxes.  He had gently shoved
her in first and placed himself between her and the aisle.  This kind of
male behavior used to really tick her off until she realized that it
wasn't meant as a put down, at least not from him, but rather just an
outward expression of his innate protective nature.  She knew he respected
her ability to do her job and her judgment....there were just times when
he reacted instinctively without regard to protocol.  Cramped in the small
space, she breathed in the scent of him....it's funny, she thought
abstractly, that the human nose could be so discerning.  She could be
placed in a dark room with hundreds of people and she would still be able
to pick him out just by the way he smelled...It was an erotically
pleasant, musky, aroma devoid of artificial scents and she would *never*
buy him cologne.  To cover it up would be a sin, she decided, and then
wondered if she too had a scent that was all her own.  She'd have to ask
him about it sometime under more appropriate circumstances.  She didn't
know why, but these off the wall thoughts always seemed to occur to her at
the strangest, most inopportune moments. 


The voices were getting closer and she felt the muscles in his back grow
tense with anticipation, but just when she thought he was going to pounce
on them, the air filled with sirens and screeching vehicles.

Police burst through he doors and the voices that they had heard
transformed into running feet.  She sensed his sudden forward movement and
heard what sounded like two bodies fall heavily to the floor.   He then
stepped out of their hiding place to cuff the two suspects together and
borrowing her cuffs, secured them both to a large, iron pipe fixtures. 
She stared up at him in surprise and he shrugged his shoulders and stated
with a sheepish grin, "having big feet cones in handy occasionally.....I
tripped em'"  They left the two men behind on the floor for their backup
to find and moved stealth fully down the hall to a large room with
double-doors.  He made the signal for a button-hook entry, she nodded, and
on the count of the third finger, they burst into the room with weapons
drawn.  The room they were in had the antiseptic quality of a lab but they
knew for a fact by the various electronic components, the chemically
triggered, electronic pressure switches, along with the C4 explosives
scattered about, that this "lab" was producing explosive devices.  

Noticing a movement in the far corner of the room, Mulder made his way
slowly forward with Scully covering several feet behind him.  He pivoted
and aimed his weapon into the darkened corner, only to find it empty, then
stepped back warily as an unfamiliar voice spoke to him from Scully's
position behind him.

"Put your gun on the floor, turn very, very, slowly and kick it over here
or I'll shall kill the woman right now," he ordered in a menacing tone.

Mulder slowly lowered himself toward the floor, placed the gun by his
feet, stood up, carefully turned toward his advisary and kicked the weapon
away from himself.  The man he faced was about 5'10" with a dark swarthy
complexion and beady unreadable eyes.  He held Dana tightly with one hand
behind her back as he rested the barrel of a .357 against her cheek.

"Don't do this," Mulder pleaded as terror gripped at his heart.  "The
place is crawling with cops and Federal agents...it's over....let her go."

"No, my mission is holy and I will not be stopped!" he screamed with
fanatical vehemence.

Mulder inched forward slightly until he saw the man tighten his finger on
the trigger.

"So," Mulder commented calmly with a touch of disdain,"does you "mission"
require that you hide behind women's skirts?" he taunted him, "or perhaps
you would like me to get you a child..."

Dana's eyes widened in disbelief as he continued.

"Maybe your "illustrious" leaders would like to know what a *brave* man
you are," he replied mockingly as he inched a little closer.

"Shut up," the man yelled furiously as he threw Scully to the ground and
aimed his sights at Mulder's mid-section.  Scully scramble out of reach
and searched frantically for Mulder's discarded Glock as SWAT members and
Federal agents stood silently at the doorway waiting as they had for the
last five minutes for a clean shot.

"Get over here," the man demanded waving the gun at him.

Mulder silently obeyed by slowly walking toward him with raised hands
until he stood directly in front of the gun.

"Turn around real slow and lose the jacket," he commanded in a shrill
voice that echoed the feeling of power that he enjoyed when he was obeyed.

Mulder turned his back to the man and with some difficulty caused by the
cast, shrugged the jacket off and let it drop to the floor in a crumpled
heap, then gasped as he felt the revolver's steel barrel being shoved
painfully into his ribcage.  He took a deep breath and inquired in a calm
almost bantering tone, "Hey, what's your name?"

"What?" the man asked, not quite certain that he'd heard correctly.

Mulder repeated with emphasized slowness, "What....is....your....name?"

"---Ha.....Habib," the man stuttered, taken aback by apparent nonchalance
in Mulder's voice.  "Why?" he inquired in confusion.

"Well Habib....If you're gonna kill me, it seems only right that I should
at least know your name so I can come back to haunt you for the rest of
your life.....I mean it's only fair..don't you think?  So, when you kill
me....they.."he said pointing to the men at the doorway, " kill you and
your colleague will get all the credit for blowing up the plane and
"Habib" will just be a bloody spot on the lab floor, forgotten about and
unknown.  Boy, life just isn't fair sometimes, is it pal?"

"How do you know about the plane?  Nobody knows except loyal
comrades....NOBODY!!"  

"I know about it, Habib....it's AMAIR flight 422.....a ghost told
me....Your friend has taken the bomb and is going to place it in the tail
section of the plane....He get's the credit, and you....you get a body
bag."

He'd succeeded in rattling the man and felt the gun barrel drop slightly
away from his ribs.  He pressed on....

"Such a self-sacrifice, and no one will even know....or care.  Too bad,
Habib,  you had such potential.  Is he gonna do it today....or maybe he'll
wait....and do it tomorrow...either way, you won't be around to see it."

Habib cried out in frenzied rage, brought the gun out from beneath
Mulder's ribs and raised it forcefully up to smash him in the back  of the
head but Mulder ducked down and drove an elbow into his attacker's
stomach, turned and slammed him against the wall, wrestling the weapon
from his hand.  He held Habib against the wall with the cast on his left
arm pressed forcefully against the man's windpipe and the retrieved
revolver in his left hand shoved it up under his chin.

"Now, you tell me, you goddamn little son of a bitch....when?  What day is
the bomb going off?"

Habib squirmed uselessly and squeaked breathlessly until Mulder lessened
the pressure on his throat.

"You will not know this from me...you can not force me to tell,"  he
replied defiantly.

Mulder drew back the hammer on the .357,  put his face close to Habib's
and whispered through his teeth, "Then I guess, you'll get to be a martyr
after all."

The man wriggled and screamed, "You can not do this...you are the
law...you must read my rights...."  

"You don't know me, Habib," he said smoothly....."You don't know the
meaning of the word "Obsession"... They all call me "Spooky."  Ya know
why?  I tell you why," he hissed, "....Cause I'm a fucking lunatic, that's
why...crazy as a bed bug,  totally insane...Just ask anybody.  So don't
think I wouldn't blow your goddamn brains all over this fucking wall just
to see what kind of pattern it'd make.  Now....when is the bomb going
off?"

Habib looked around at the faces in the room in shear panic as they all
nodded their heads in affirmation of the truthfulness of Mulder's
statement.  He cried out in terror, "I do not know...", he sobbed,
"Please,  I do not know."


Mulder decocked the gun, spun Habib around and gave him a shove toward the
waiting SWAT captain.

"Get this piece of shit out of my sight," he growled with disgust, then 
lifted his eyes and smiled  almost shyly, "Well, it was worth a try,
anyway."

The captain stopped, gave Mulder an appraising stare and chuckled
approvingly, "Agent Mulder, should you ever decide that Bureau work isn't
sufficiently challenging,  come and see me.  There's alway room in my
department for someone with the balls to pull off what you just did."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he answered jokingly.

He turned just in time to see Dana glaring at him from behind a counter. 
He knew that glare...they both knew there was no time to pursue the
meaning behind the glare and what he was sure would be an ensuing lecture,
so he prepared himself for the 'reader's digest' synopsis of the longer
version that he was sure to get later when everything was over.

She came over to him and started to say something when he cut her off
with, "Yeah, I know...make notes... and we can discuss it later...over
dinner?" he hedged.

"Why, so you can weasel out of the discussion?  I'm a big girl...I can
take care of myself.  You don't have to be my "knight in shining armor." 
I want you just the way you are...alive.  You take too many chances and I
would hate to think any of them were because of me."

"Oh come on Dana," he complained defensively, "You know I have respect for
your expertise and your abilities to do your job.  I mean you've pulled my
butt out of a sling on more than one occasion but I don't harangue you for
taking the chances when you do...I might think about it...but I don't do
it.   Sure....sure I'd take a chance on risking the big "dirt nap" if I
thought it'd keep you safe.  Are you honestly telling me that you wouldn't
do the same?"

"Dirt nap?"  she snickered. "Ok, so we're both guilty of risk
taking....but you have to admit that you do it more often than I do."

" I don't have to admit any such thing," he stuck his chin out stubbornly.
  "Ok, if taking risks means that I can keep some fanatical nut from
blowing your brains out....Yeah, I'm guilty as fucking charged and I'd do
the same goddamn thing over again if the situation repeated itself.  So
you can lecture me till your blue in the face and it's not gonna make one
bit of difference about the way I feel or change what I'd do."  He'd
gotten red in the face and raised his voice to her and realized that he'd
reacted emotionally and hoped that she wouldn't be too angry with him for
he hated it when she gave him the cold shoulder treatment.  

She  looked him in the eye, obviously startled by his uncharacteristic
outburst  and walked across the room to stand by his side.

He bowed his head and sighed loudly, then whispered, "I'm an idiot...I'm
sorry, I didn't mean to yell...."

She reached up and with her thumb and forefinger, gently lifted his chin
so that she could look into  the honesty of those beautiful soulful eyes
and smiled forgivingly.  "It's ok....I love you too.    Let's get out of
here, we're wasting time."  He placed his arm around her shoulders,
gathered her close and escorted her through the double doors and out of
the building.

"Damn it," Mulder sputtered in frustration as he hurled an unsuspecting
book across the room and into the "E=MC2" poster of Einstein on the
opposite wall.  Scully, who entered the room just in time to witness his
little temper tantrum remarked wryly, "testing Einstein's Theory yet
again...are we?"

He rolled his eyes upward and if she didn't know better, she'd say he was
pouting.

"Dana, I've gone over flight paths, departing and arrival times, cargo
lists, crew personnel, blueprints, any damn thing I can think of and
nothing "clicks."  I've got one of those "feelings" that the information I
need is here....it's here and I just can't find it." He absently shoved
the pencil he'd been using down the cast and began working it up and down
in a scratching motion.  She smiled at the uselessness of the action and
pulled the pencil out of his hand.

"You're gonna hurt yourself doing that," she said in a placating tone.

"It's either that or gnaw my arm off at the elbow," he whined desperately.

She laughed lightly, "Guess you'll think twice about jumping out in front
of speeding cars next time....won't  you?"

"Can't promise anything...but I'm sure it'll cross my mind."

"Maybe you should check the passenger manifest again," she suggested.

"Passenger manifest?  Of course....how could I have forgotten about the
manifest?.....God, I've had shit for brains lately."  He sorted through
the clutter on his desk, pulled out the passenger manifest and ran his
finger down the page until two names practically jumped out and bit
him...literally... a sharp pain pierced his fingers as they touched the
names on the list and he yelped out loud....Nicolai and Yanna Yeltsin....

"Dana, call Dullus. Tell them there is or will be a bomb placed on
tonight's 6:30  AM AIR Flight 422....What time is it now," he mumbled to
himself as he looked at his watch....5:30..."Shit, let's go...call them on
the cellular in the car on the way.  Tell them to get the people away from
that plane and to keep all portable radios out of the concourse...after
you've done that, notify the bomb disposal unit and get them out
there...tell them to keep it low key, God knows where the asshole will put
the thing if he can't get it on the plane."

They arrived at the airport before everyone else and were met by airport
security.  

"What get's loaded first...who are the first people to get near that
plane," he asked the airline rep.

"Luggage and freight," she said matter of factly.

"Good, get me down there quick," he replied as he followed her down to the
luggage loading area.   "Scully, check with the boarding officers and
don't let anyone on that plane."
Be careful, she thought to him....as she headed back to the operations
desk.

I'll try...he thought back to her....amazed at his ability to receive the
thought in the first place...Well, Kava...I hope you take this back after
this is all over cause I don't *want* to know everything that goes through
Dana Scully's mind, he thought ruefully."

He watched the loading from a corner of the building, looking for anything
unusual or out of place and not sure that he'd know it even if he saw it. 
Men in coveralls marched back and forth between the loading tram and the
plane...then he saw it,  they all wore rubber soled, sneaker type shoes
except for one man who appeared to be carrying....a large radio.  He drew
his weapon and approached the tram from an angle so as to hopefully come
up on the individual unnoticed.  When he was close enough, he shouted the
required warning," Federal Agent, don't move."  The man turned and upon
seeing the weapon, held the radio in front of him, jumped into the tram
and took off down the runway.  Mulder holstered his Glock, and grabbed the
end of the tram with his good arm and hauled himself over the stacks of
luggage, making his way haphazardly to the front of the tram where the man
tried to use the radio as a club to knock him off.  When that failed, he
applied the brakes which flipped Mulder heavily to the pavement and onto
the cast which emitted a loud cracking noise when he landed.  The suspect
then jumped from the tram and ran toward the hangars at the far end of the
runway with Mulder, though slightly shaken, still in pursuit.  He caught
up with the man halfway down the runway and again drew his weapon.

"It's over," he yelled, "put the radio down and step away from it."

"It is not over," said the man in a fevered tone, "Until I say.....I will
die before I will go with you," and before Mulder could move any closer a
loud blast sounded in his ears and a flash blinded him as he tumble
backward onto the tarmac.


He couldn't hear and he couldn't see but he felt hands lift him unto a
gurney and he felt the motion of the vehicle and the familiar gentle touch
he'd grown so used to over the past two years, brush the hair from his
eyes.

"Dana?" he moaned slightly.  A hand patted him on the shoulder.  She was
there.  He knew it and that was all that mattered now.

"You're a very lucky man," the doctor told him as he placed the bandages
over his eyes.  His hearing had returned, abeit slightly ringing.  "You've
got a nasty case of flash burn, but in a few days we'll take off the
bandages and everything should be back to normal."

"Normal?'  Did you say normal?  Honestly doctor, you don't know what
you're saying....This man's *normal* would curl your toes."

"Are you certain that you want to take responsibility for him?" the doctor
inquired.

"Oh yeah,  You listen to me Fox Mulder....you will behave and do what
you're told or you're gonna come back here and I'll have them put you in a
body cast."

"Jesus Dana, I didn't know you had such a cruel streak," he said as he
tried to get the tongue depressor down the new cast they'd placed on his
arm.

"And stop putting things in the cast."

"It itches," he complained loudly.

"Just remember, all the things that would itch in a body cast."

He frowned slightly but remained silent, dropping the tongue depressor
quickly to the floor.  "Point taken," he finally conceded.

He slid carefully off the table and she grabbed him around the waist and
guided him out of the door and down the hallway.  His hand dropped
slightly off her shoulder and rested lightly over her left
breast...."Oops, sorry," he managed to comment, not quite keeping the
smile off his face.  "You wouldn't hit a blind man, would ya?"

"No, I don't believe I would.  Wait until we get home.....I'll teach you
the Braille method," she answered teasingly.

"But I only have one hand..."

"Necessity is the mother of invention," she retorted as she turned her
head and placed his fingers in her mouth.

He nearly collapsed on the floor as she supported his weight, and
explained to a group of passing nurses...."It's all right, he's just
feeling a little "faint.""  

"Dana," he whispered, "You don't play fair."  

Faint laughter  echoed in the hall as they walked out into the night.








                                                        FINE