As she made her way through the crowd, smiling politely at the hostess,Dana Scully wondered--not for the first time tonight--what had possessed her to agree to attend the party with Emily. When her own date had cancelled on her, Emily had begged and pleaded with Scully to attend the party, not wanting to go alone, and given that all Scully had to look forward to that night was trying to dive into a very dry text on forensic medicine, she had found herself agreeing. All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl, said Emily blithely in her argument that Scully needed to get out more. Which was true in itself...

    But she had nothing in common with the other party guests, who were a blend between professional people--with a slant towards corporate management--to socialites, the closest person to her own profession a podiatrist, whom Emily had immediately foisted her off on and Scully had managed to escape fairly quickly. Since then she had been roving the room, looking for Emily with no luck.

    Glancing surreptiously at her watch, Scully sighed as she saw it was only 8:30. Odd...it felt as if she had been here for hours rather than just an hour and a half...

    "Hey, there, gorgeous! Enjoying the party?"

    Suppressing another sigh, Scully managed a polite smile as she turned to face the speaker, seeing yet another sleek, well-fed product of corporate life. Teeth showed dazzlingly white against country-club tan and blond hair was slicked back, the obligatory suit exchanged for slacks and a polo shirt, a half-full glass of wine held in one hand.

    "Yes, I am." lied Scully, holding onto her smile with an effort and moving surreptiously back as the man extended the hand that held the wine glass, wine sloshing over the glass and spilling onto the carpet.

    "Oops!" said the man with a too-bright smile and extended his other hand. "Ted Harris. Corporate law."

    Scully shook his hand perfunctorily. "Dana Scully...FBI." When Ted didn't release her hand and began to stroke the back of it with his finger, she glanced down at his hand and then up at him, one eyebrow upraised.

    "FBI!" Ted released her hand and took a step back, eyes widening in mock alarm. "Not going to shoot me, are you?"

    "I'm not armed." said Scully sweetly.

    Ted grinned as he took a sip of wine. "Hey, hon, wanna go for a ride--"

    "There you are, chere."

    A black clad arm slipped into her field of vision, extending a wine glass, and Scully automatically took the glass even as she turned her head to look at the man that stood beside her, hand resting casually on her arm, his other hand holding his own wine glass. Tall, a little over six feet, and slim of build, the black T-shirt under his black blazer fitting snugly over a leanly muslced torso, form fitting black trousers clinging to long muscular legs--she caught herself from leaning backwards to see if the rear of his trousers was as form-fitting and lifted her eyes to meet his. A glint of amusement in gray eyes with just a hint of green, his features were strong and yet beautiful with an angular jaw, brown hair swept back from his forehead and falling in gentle waves down to his shoulders.

    "Did you miss me?" the man asked Scully, giving her arm a light caress that made her shiver, a slight smile curving his lips as he gazed into her eyes with an intensity that sent a flutter through her stomach.

    "Always." she managed to say in reply and took a sip of her wine, to give her hands something to do, fighting against a blush.

    Sliding an arm possessively around Scully's shoulders, the man turned to give Ted an insincere smile. "If you'll pardon us..." And led Scully away from him, head ducking close to hers as they walked away.

    "Thank you." said Scully fervently to him as they reached the doors leading to the outer garden, turning to face her rescuer and seeing out of the corner of her eye Ted setting off after another conquest.

    "You're welcome." He lifted his glass to take a small sip of his wine, just enough to wet his lips, and then set it aside, turning his head to regard Scully. "Come here often?" And laughed at the look she gave him, lifting his hands defensively. "Just a joke."

    "No, I don't come here often." said Scully, lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile and finally allowing it out. "You?"

    The man shrugged gracefully. "Sometimes in my line of work it's a necessary function, attending parties. I usually find someone interesting to talk to." And gave her another slight smile, a warmth in gray eyes.

    "I'm Dana." said Scully, extending her hand.

    "Michael." He clasped her hand briefly, fingers sliding down her hand in a caress as he released her hand, and she mentally cursed her fair coloring, that made even the faintest blush prominent. Just a touch and you're ready to melt in a puddle at his feet, she scolded herself.

    "So...are you a friend of the hostess?" asked Scully, striving to make some kind of polite conversation rather than stand there drooling.

    Michael gave a slight shake of his head and leaned close to her, voice low and conspiratol. "Party crasher--don't tell anyone."

    "I won't." A lock of brown hair had fallen across his forehead and she had to stop herself from reaching up to brush it back, to see if his hair was as soft and silken as it looked--she gave a little shake of her head to clear it and managed a smile. Well...it's been nice talking to you but I have to go..."

    "But we haven't discussed my price yet." said Michael as she started to move away and Scully stopped in mid-step, turning to look at him, eyebrows arched. "For rescuing you."

    "If I'd known rescue carried a price...I would have fended for myself." said Scully dryly but couldn't help a smile. From anyone else she would have taken offense but this Michael had a charm and a way of saying it that was playful.

    "Just dinner. You..." He took a step forward and extended his hand to touch her arm briefly. "Me..." His fingers trailed up her arm to her shoulder, brushing briefly against bare skin and sending a shiver through her. "A very public place...great food..." His hand went up her cheek to tuck hair behind her ear, his head coming closer to hers, mouth just inches from hers, close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips. "What do you say?"

    "I'd...like that." she breathed.

    Michael drew back, a smile curving his lips and warming his eyes. "Good."

He slipped a hand into his blazer and came out with a plain white business card. "My number. Call me tomorrow and let me know what time will be good for you." He leaned forward to brush her cheek with his lips and then stepped back, still smiling as he turned to leave.

    If that is what's been floating around the dating pool, I need to get out more, thought Scully irreverently and laughed at herself. A touch here and there, a brief kiss, and she was smitten by a man she didn't even know--all the same she found herself watching as he strode away, thinking that the rear of him did indeed look good in those pants...

    With a white lab coat over street clothes and wire-rimmed glasses, the brown-haired man moved unchallenged through the hospital, taking the elevator up to the fourth floor and the Intensive Care Unit. A stethoscope around his neck and a chart cradled in one arm helped to add to the illusion that he was another of the medical staff and if he didn't speak to anyone, it was nothing unusual. It was a teaching hospital, with an ever- changing staff and roster of students, and if a face did not seem familiar, it was not considered remarkable enough to be remembered.

     At the nurses' station he stopped with a quick flick of the eyes up and down the corridor before he moved around the empty counter to examine the charts. Finding the proper room number he switched the chart with the one he held under his arm and left the nurses' station to head down the hallway. The door to Room 412 was closed and he stood for a moment looking in to make sure there was no staff inside before slipping in. A quick check showed only one occupant in the room--the other bed empty--and he walked up to the bed, looking down at the limp figure that lay on it.

    The silence of the room was broken only by the beep of machines and the rattle of the patient's breath, an oxygen tube slid between lips to help him breathe. With visual confirmation that this was the intended target, the man slipped a hand into the pocket of his lab coat and removed a black case, flipping it open to take the syringe that lay inside. Flicking the needle he moved over to the IV and inserted the needle in it, depressing the plunger to send the contents into the IV and the patient's arm.

    Replacing the syringe in its case, he left the room quickly and headed for the elevator, hearing as the door closed a code blue announced over the loudspeaker.

Once down in the parking garage he shrugged out of lab coat, extracting needle case to tuck it into a pocket, and shoved the coat into the nearest garbage can, holding the medical chart as he strode to a waiting car. As he opened the door and slid inside, he nodded to the driver to go and placed the chart on his lap as he reached for the cell phone that sat on the dashboard.

    Punching in a number he waited as it rang twice and a voice spoke on the other side before speaking. "Target terminated." said Michael calmly, waiting for the curt acknowlegement before he disconnected.

End of Part One

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

    He held her hand clasped in his as they moved slowly to the music, his other hand gently stroking her thigh, brown head bent over hers as half-lidded eyes gazed into hers. Scully tilted her head back as Michael lowered his head to hers, waiting with eyes closed for his mouth to touch hers. She felt the warmth of his lips on hers and shivered in delight as the knuckles of his hand brushed across her breast, Michael drawing her closer as the kiss deepened...

    The ringing of the telephone shattered the dream and Scully groaned as she came up out of sleep, slapping a hand at first the alarm clock and then the phone, once she realized the alarm clock was not the source of the sound. Fingers wrapped around it and she brought it to her ear as she rolled over onto her back.

    "Hello..."

    "Scully?"

    "Mulder..." she said in return, another groan escaping her as she turned her head and saw what time it was. "Do you know what time it is?"

    "3:42 AM." supplied Mulder helpfully.

    "How nice of you to call me up and tell me that. Goodbye, Mulder." She started to hang up the phone, halting when he called her name and reluctantly drawing her back to her ear. "What is that couldn't wait till I come in, Mulder?"

    "Well, I thought I'd call you and let you know that I'm currently in the ER of Georgetown Hospital." responded Mulder dryly.

    Scully sat up, shoving red hair out of her eyes, a shiver of alarm going through her. "What happened? Are you alright?"

    "It's a long story...if you come down here I'll thrill you with it."

    Scully sighed and kicked the blankets free of her legs. "On my way, Mulder." Disconnecting, she set the phone aside and yawned as she stretched, sliding off the bed to stumble for the bathroom.

    An hour later, in jeans and T-shirt under a long coat, Scully arrived at the hospital, flashing her FBI ID to gain her admittance to the ER ward. She was led to a bed on which Mulder lay, his right foot elevated in a sling and a plaster case already enclosing his leg from knee to foot, a bandage also on his forehead; despite it all he still managed to look somewhat chipper as he extended a felt pen to Scully.

    "Wanna sign my cast?"

    Scully sighed. "So what happened? Get hit by a car? Shot in the foot?" Or had an alien implant removed from your leg, added a nasty little voice in her mind, product of being awoken abruptly from the oh-so-nice dream...

    "I slipped." muttered Mulder.

    "Pardon me?" Scully hiked one eyebrow as she regarded her partner, feeling a petty pleasure in seeing him wince at her tone.

    "I slipped on the ice in the parking lot and fell." said Mulder louder, looking shame-faced. He glowered at her as her lips twitched. "It's NOT funny." he said, a little petulantly.

    "Of course it isn't." said Scully smoothly. "So...what's the prognosis?"

    "Broken foot, laceration to the temple when I hit my head on the car door--" He touched fingers to the bandage on his forehead. "And I threw out my back...so they're going to keep me in traction for a few days."

    "So you asked me to come down here so I could hold your hand?" At the boyishly woebegone expression he gave her, Scully folded her arms over her chest and waited, all but tapping her foot, knowing her partner well enough now not to be fooled by these tricks.

    Smiling ruefully, Mulder started to lean over the bed and winced as he pulled strained muscles in his back, waved a hand at Scully and pointed at the floor beside his bed. Sighing, she bent over to pick up his briefcase and laid it down beside him on the bed. "I asked you here so you could take over this case."

     "I didn't know we were on a case, Mulder." said Scully mildly but with a hint of steel under her voice.

    Mulder gave her his best innocent look. "You were so busy with the Simmons case...and this one just kinda...fell into my lap."

    "I'll bet it did."

    Hastily Mulder opened the briefcase and withdrew a manilla folder. "I was looking into a story posted on the Internet...about a local research lab doing some highly experimental work with new technology. Ever read William Gibson? Neuromancer? Any kind of cybertech novels?" he added at seeing her blank expression. "No? Well, the primary idea behind these types of books is a future where the Internet is more than just a collection of computers stringed together, it's a...place. In the future hackers are cybernetically linked to their computers, allowing them to go *into* the Internet and see it as an actual physical place through the use of icons. Like Johnny Mnemonic. Anyways, this lab is supposed to be working on the prototype of this implant...and rumours were circulating that their research was boosted by the use of--"

    "Alien technology." finished Scully sourly and rubbed her temples. "And you fell for it, hook, line, and sinker."

    "I've been investigating it." said Mulder with a wounded look. "And the possibilty that several deaths among the homeless populace might be linked to this experiment. The rejects..."

    "Evidence?" asked Scully with an almost pleading note to her voice. Please, let him have something solid so I don't spend my time chasing ghosts, she pleaded silently.

    "This, Scully." Mulder shoved the folder at her and she took it, opening it to glance through coroner's reports. "We have a dozen people dead in the morgue, their brains fried. And we also have a police report about some kind of shoot-out that took place at one of this firm's labs. One of the survivors of the shoot-out was brought to this very hospital and by the time I got here he was dead. Medical staff can't explain it, he just flatlined. And get this, Scully..." Mulder shifted in the bed, expression eager as he leaned forward.

    "Not only did he not have any ID, his medical chart was taken sometime before time of death."

    "Hmmm..." Scully took a more intensive look at the autopsy reports and then looked at Mulder over the folder. "Are they doing an autopsy?"

    "He's been sent off to the County morgue for autopsy."

    "Alright, Mulder, I'll give it a go."

    Mulder grinned at her. "Great. In there I have everything that you'll need to get started--hard copy of the reports I got off the Internet, some background on the corporation involved--Orion Technologies--and the name of the police detective that's involved in the investigation of the shoot-out. It's not a lot..." he said apologetically as Scully gave him a look. "But together it makes for some interesting coincedences, don't you think?"

    "I suppose." said Scully dubiously and shut the folder. "I'll take a look at your 'evidence' and get back to you later." Tucking the folder she went to the door and stopped to look back at Mulder, lips twitching as she tried to hold in her smile. "Hang in there, Mulder."

    "Very funny." groused Mulder, folding his arms over his chest.

    On the very aptly named graveyard shift at the county morgue, Tony Foster had his textbooks spread out in front of him and Sony Discman playing as he worked on his paper. His friends asked him how he could stand to be working in a morgue but after a succession of late-night jobs in convenience stores or all-night diners, working for the county was a dream job. The pay was great and he didn't have to deal with pissy customers...none of the customers here made complaints. And it gave him the time to study...

    As Alice in Chains "Man in the Box" came over his headphones, he tapped his pencil against the desk in time to the music, straightening up from leaning over his textbook, and felt something cold and hard press into the back of his neck, making him jump. That fucking Stan with his practical jokes--he started to turn and his headphones were yanked off his head, a hand gripping his shoulder hard to shove him face down on the desk.

    "Don't move." said a cold voice behind him. "Keep your head down."

    Heart in his throat as he realized that what he felt against the back of his neck was a gun muzzle, Tony nodded and kept his eyes closed, hands flat on the desk as he heard the sound of footsteps echoing through the room. The distinctive sound of drawers being opened echoed through the room and as Tony kept his head down he heard a zipper being opened and the thud of a body dropped to the floor then the zipper closed.

    "Go." said the voice behind Tony and the footsteps retreated. A shift of the gun pressed into his neck and the voice whispered in his ear. "If you move from the desk in the next five minutes, you will be dead. Understood?" Not trusting himself to speak Tony nodded again, feeling tears in his eyes, and the gun muzzle dug threateningly into his neck before withdrawing.

    Tony sat for far longer than five minutes, shaking badly, and when he finally got to his feet, it was to find one of the drawers open...and the slab that had contained a body empty.

    The first thing Scully did after leaving Mulder in the hospital was go home and go back to bed, oversleeping till nearly 900. By the time she showered and dressed and arrived at the office it was nearly 1100. The Simmons case required wrapping up so she spent an hour wrapping that up before turning to Mulder's case; for the next two hours she skimmed what Mulder had gathered and determined that it wasn't much. She didn't put as much stock in the Internet reports as Mulder did and found what "evidence" he had sketchy as best.

    Sighing, she pushed the folder aside, making a mental note to check with the coroner on the autopsy of Mulder's mystery man, and as she looked in her purse for money to buy lunch she came across the card Michael had given her the night before. Holding it between her fingers, she studied the phone number embossed on it and thought that dinner with him was just what she needed after a long day at the office...

    Before she could think of an excuse not to call, she picked up the phone and dialed the number. Two rings later and it was picked up, Michael's voice saying, "Hello."

    "Hi, this is Dana--Dana Scully. We met last night--?" She covered her eyes at hearing the hesitant note in her voice, shaking her head at herself.

    "Of course I remember you--hello, Dana." He gave her a name a soft caress, a faint, elusive accent coloring his voice.

    "I was calling about dinner..." She trailed off, feeling suddenly foolish--for all she knew he passed his card around to every single eligible female at the party.

    "Not calling to cancel, are you?"

    "Umm...no, of course not." She toyed with the cord of the phone as she leaned back in her chair. "I was just calling to check on the time."

    "Let's see..." A faint rustling of paper and then he said, "I'm in meetings till 600--why don't we meet at 630? There's this little Italian restaurant called Luicano's, on 5th Street, do you know where that is?"

    "I can find it." Hastily Scully scrawled down the name and 5th Street. "630 sounds fine."

    "Good. I'm glad you called, Dana. I'll see you then." he said softly.

    "See you then." Setting the phone down she sat there gazing at it, a foolish smile on her face, for several minutes before she finally stirred herself. Lunch and then the coroner's office...she'd make sure to cut the door short so that she'd be ready in time for dinner.

    After he disconnected the cell phone, Michael turned his attention to the phone on his desk as it rang softly and picked it up. "Yes?"

    "My office." said Madeline and hung up.

    Picking up his coat from the back of his chair, Michael slipped his arms into it and placed his cell phone in the front pocket before leaving his office to head for Madeline's. He found Madeline seated behind her desk, eyes focused on the laptop sitting on her desk, and waited patiently for her acknowledgement, hands clasped behind his back. At last she raised her head to meet his eyes.

    "Where are we on the Orion situation?"

    "We retrieved Larson's body from the morgue this morning. And the paperwork on him. With no body and no other evidence, there's no reason for the police to continue an investigation." said Michael steadily.

    Madeline steepled her fingers and leaned back in her chair. "I'm disturbed that these steps were necessary. Larson shouldn't have been left behind."

    "I know." He accepted the rebuke, offering no excuse; at the time, with the inevitablity of discovery by the police, there had been no choice...Larson had gone down under fire from the security guards and he hadn't been close enough to bring him out. "But contain-ment has been achieved."

    Madeline stared at him for a long moment and he returned her gaze, his own carefully blank, revealing nothing at all of his feelings. "Good." She shifted position in her chair, reaching over to tap a key on her computer. "We want you to continue on this...alone. You'll have access to all the resources you need, backup if it's essential, but other than that you are to have no...unnecessary contact with the Section. We do not want to be... openly connected to this situation."

    "Understood." He inclined his head in acknowledgement, swallowing a sigh; in other words, if he was caught, the Section would deny any knowledge or responsibility for his actions. Nothing new there... "Is that all?"

    "Retrieving this information is very important. Take whatever steps are necessary to secure it." As he nodded again, she turned her attention back to her computer. "That's all."

    Michael turned and left her office, returning to his own so that he could download the needed files to his own computer before leaving the Section.

    Scully glanced at her watch with a sigh, seeing that it was 701, and glumly chewed on a breadstick. She had arrived here promptly at 630, hoping to have a nice dinner to lighten what had turned out to be an unproductive and rather odd day. The body of Mulder's mystery man had been stolen from the morgue, the attendant only able to say that men with guns had come in to steal it, offering no description because he hadn't seen any of them. The police detective in charge of the investigation--Moyer--had been more than eager to pass the case off into her hands, even if he did express mystification at to why the FBI would be looking into what seemed to be a routine break-in.

    First thing tomorrow she would go to Orion Technologies personally to speak to the man in charge of the research lab...and it looked like she would be calling it an early night, she thought with a sigh. Pick up something to eat on the way home and then get to work...

    Just as she started to raise her hand for the check--having ordered a glass of wine and breadsticks to placate the waiter--Michael came striding up to the table, smiling apologetically as he leaned forward to give her a kiss of greeting on the cheek. "Sorry I'm late...my meeting ran long."

    "It's alright." she found herself saying, smiling at him as he sat down across from her. It looked like the evening would be salvageable after all...

    Signalling the waiter, Michael reached across the table for her menu. "Mind if I order for us? I've been here a few times."

    "I'm in your hands." As soon as she said it, Scully could have bitten her tongue and she hurriedly took a sip of her wine so she wouldn't say something else to embarrass herself.

    He flashed her a smile and then turned to the waiter, speaking to him in Italian, the waiter bending his head to listen and nodding before he set off briskly. Scully glanced after the waiter and then looked to Michael. "I was trying to place your accent...is it Italian?"

    "French." said Michael, shaking out his napkin and laying it over his lap. "Born and raised in Paris. Italian's one of the languages I've picked up in my line of work."

    "Oh? And what do you do?" asked Scully curiously as she gazed at him, admiring the way the candlelight picked up the auburn highlights in his hair.

    Smiling slightly, he folded his hands on the table. "I work for an international corporation--my speciality is crisis management. There's a problem, I'm called in and I fix it."

    Scully arched an eyebrow. "You have a high success rate?"

    Michael nodded, a glint of ironic humor in his eyes. "The field's very cut-throat--I have to be successful in order to survive." He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of water before leaning forward. "So...what do you do for a living?"

    "I'm a doctor--I specialize in forensic medicine. I work with the FBI."

    "Really?" Michael's smile widened, gray eyes soft and warm as he gazed at her, chin resting on upturned palm. "It sounds very interesting. I'd love to hear all about it." And as he tucked hair behind his ear, he surreptiously activated the comlink for recording.

***********

    At Michael's prodding, Scully found herself relating a little about what she did on a day-to-day basis. He was an excellent listener, gray eyes intent on her and completely focused on what she said, not even looking the least bit bored when she began to relate the far more technical details of what she did.

    "Your family must be very proud of you."

    Scully gave a small laugh as she took a sip of her wine. "Not at first--they wanted me to go into practise. I just chose to practise in a...different field." Setting down her wine-glass she looked at Michael across the table and smiled slightly, realizing that for all they'd talked in the last few hours, she had been doing most of the talking. "Well, now that you know more than you wanted about forensic medicine...what about you? I know what you do for a living but not much else..." And he'd been a little vague on what he did do...

    "What do you want to know?" asked Michael, eyebrows raised a little and a touch of amusement in his eyes.

    "Tell me...about your family, your job...anything you want to tell me."

    His lips twitched briefly, as if he found her last words to be amusing, and he traced the rim of his wineglass with a finger. "Family...my parents are dead. I have a sister...but I haven't seen her in some time. Seperate lives...you know how that is. The job becomes your life..." A hard, bitter edge to his smile, gone as quickly as it had come, and he turned his attention to his plate, absently wrapping noodles around his fork.

    "You're not married."

    Smiling Michael lifted his hand to show it bare of a ring and said, "Not involved with anyone either...not at this moment, at least." The barest hint of suggestion in his voice and Scully found herself returning his smile. She didn't know when exactly she had ceased to be awkward in his prescence, to stop feeling like she was a schoolgirl on her first date, but he had charm aplenty, able to set her quickly at ease. Seemed to know just the right things to say, his flirting subtle, his interest in her and her work so genuine...

    Not to mention that he was sexy as hell, she thought with a mental laugh.

    "How about you?" he asked, leaning forward a little, forearms on the table.

    "Me?" Scully blinked, trying to recall the thread of the conversation and banish the image her mind was trying to paint of Michael, slowly stripping away clothes. "Involved? No...like you said, it's hard with the job."

    "Would you like to be?"

    Direct and to the point, no dissembling, and Scully looked away, at anywhere but at the warmth of his eyes. "I don't...." His finger lifted her chin and she met his eyes, seeing sincerity and a touch of desire in their depths, expression utterly serious.

    "The truth." he urged softly.

    "It's been a...long time." confessed Scully with a self-conscious laugh. "There hasn't exactly been a lot of opportunities." With her career and the personal crisises she had suffered through over the last few years, finding someone to have a relationship with had been low on the list of her priorities... "I...like you." Lust after you, was more like that, she thought, and was barely able to smother a giggle.

    "I like you too." His finger stroked her chin, lifting her chin up a little higher as he leaned across the table to kiss her. A soft kiss, no pressure at all, his lips warm against hers and tasting of wine and garlic, and she was the one to deepen the kiss, to press her mouth back against his. Seemingly of their own will her hands lifted to thread fingers through his hair, pulling his head forward, and the idle thought that his hair *was* as silky as it looked flashed through her mind, banished as she gave herself up to his kiss.

    A loud beep broke the moment, both of them drawing back, and Scully looked down at her beeper, still hooked to her belt. "It's me..." Unhooking the beeper she examined the number on it and sighed. "I have to answer this." she said reluctantly.

    "I'll be waiting." promised Michael with a slow smile.

    Returning his smile Scully rose from the table and went in search of a pay phone; once she had gone, Michael pulled her purse to his side of the table and, with an eye on the direction she had gone, began to efficiently search it. Nothing of much interest in it, just the usual odds and ends--lipstick, compact, a pack of Kleenex, checkbook, key ring--and he extracted a small daily planner from it, flipping it open to the day's date.

Printed at the bottom was Orion Technologies and a name, Stephen Driscoll--Driscoll was the director of the same research lab his team had attempted to infiltrate...and failed. Interesting what might be learned from him...

    Shutting her purse, Michael replaced it and returned to his dinner. Not only could he employ his own resources, he could follow Scully's progress, he had only to remain close to her to gain access to her notes. His approach would have to be careful--Scully was not like the other women he'd had occassion to deal with in his line of work, her training and innate sense of caution would make proceeding a tricky enterprise. It would take more than physical intimacy to gain her trust...

    At the pay phone Scully punched in the number provided by her beeper and was not completely surprised to hear Mulder's voice on the other end. "Scully? Any news?"

    "Hello to you, too, Mulder. And no--no news. Except for your mystery man disappearing out of the morgue." The moment she'd said it she could have bitten her tongue...for she knew exactly how Mulder would react.

    "And you still think there's nothing go on here?" said Mulder in a rising voice.

    "I'll admit that it's odd..." She grimaced at the understatement she was making. "But it's a long way from security guards shooting armed tresspassers to your reports on *alien* technology. If Orion Technologies is involved in...delicate research, what we might just be seeing here is corporate espionage."

    "And you don't find it strange that a man just...dies in the hospital, his records go missing and then he does?" asked Mulder skeptically. "Scully, all traces are being erased, you can see that, can't you?"

    "Yes." admitted Scully reluctantly. "And I *am* looking into it, Mulder. Tomorrow I'm going to speak with the head of the research lab."

    "Let me know how it turns out." said Mulder eagerly and Scully smiled, shaking her head a little. Sometimes she wished she could share his enthusiasm for his work...and other times his intensity simply disturbed her.

    "Good night, Mulder."

    Hanging up the phone, she went back to the table and Michael, Michael rising from his chair. "Ready to go?" he asked, extending her coat. Nodding Scully slipped it on and retrieved her purse, waiting as he dropped some bills on the table and then joined her, his hand taking hers. A little surprised at the gesture, she clasped his hand and they walked out of the small restaurant, Scully leading the way to her car.

    "Well...this is me." Awkwardly she extracted her hand from Michael's, ducking her head as she searched in her purse for her keys, and raised her head to look at him just as he stepped forward, leaning in to give her a kiss. Not as tender as the previous one, this one with heat in it, a heat that Scully found herself eagerly returning. At last she drew back, a little breathless and weak in the news, feeling a heat she hadn't felt in a long time.

    "Do you...do you want to come back to my place?" she said in an unsteady voice.

    Michael carressed her cheek and gave her a gentle smile. "I don't think you're ready for that yet...and I don't want to scare you off." he added with a small laugh, leaning in to give her another kiss. "Next time you ask...you're not getting away." And with a last touch to her cheek he stepped back, turning away to head for his own car.

    Breathing deeply to calm racing heart, Scully watched him go and then turned her attention back to her car's lock. A cold shower was definitely in order...

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

"Do you have an appointment?" asked the blond-haired secretary with a bright smile that showed unnaturally perfect, white teeth in her suntanned face, eyes going from Scully before her and to the slim book laid out before her...presumably the sacred tome enscribed with the day's appointments.

    Scully sighed and said for the fourth time that morning, "No, I do not." It had taken her an hour and four successive secretaries to finally penetrate the sanctum sanctorum of Orion Technologies Research Division, a sprawling, octagon shaped structure; at each junction a flash of her FBI ID had gained her grudging admittance through four receptionist stations and three security stations. A badge marking her as a visitor was pinned to the lapel of her coat and she held the small billfold containing her ID in one hand, flipping it open to show to this latest secretary.

    "Would you please tell Mr. Driscoll that Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI would like a moment of his time?"

    The secretary--Mandy from the gold plate set on her desk--studied the ID with a grave scrutiny and then reached for her phone, flashing Scully yet another smile. "Mr. Driscoll, there's a woman out here to see you. From the FBI." she added. A brief silence and then Mandy nodded. "I'll send her in." Rising from her chair, she led the way to the door and opened it, ushering Scully inside and shutting the door quickly behind her.

    The office was spacious and other than a large oak desk set against the wall--and attendant chairs--there was no other furniture in the room, walls bare of decoration. If not for the desk the room looked unused, the desk providing an island of chaos in the sea of order. A computer dominated it and spread across every inch of it was a scattering of papers and computer disks, balled up pieces of paper tossed haphazardly at a garbage can and littering the floor around it.

    Behind it stood a young man--presumably Stephen Driscoll--dressed in dark trousers and a white dress shirt with a tie bearing the images of various Star Wars characters, white shirt sleeves rolled up and suit coat tossed across the back of his chair. He had longish light brown hair and wore wire-rimmed glasses, looking far more like one of lab techs than the director of the lab.

    As she approached the desk, he was standing behind the computer, bent over the keyboard, and straightened, moving around the desk to quickly shake her hand.

"Agent...I'm sorry but Mandy didn't give me your name..." He flashed her a boyish smile, dimples showing in his cheeks, further promoting the image of just another harmless computer geek...an image that he no doubt used to his advantage when it suited him.

    "Scully. Dana Scully." Scully showed him her ID and Stephen Driscoll nodded, moving back behind his desk.

    "Is this about the break-in a few nights ago?" asked Driscoll, eyebrows upraised. "I've already spoken to the police about it--I understood that that one of the...perpetrators was injured."

"Given that your company is involved in contract work for the government, the matter has been turned over to the Bureau." said Scully smoothly, watching Driscoll for his response. While she had not officially been assigned to the case, the local police--overburdened and understaffed--had been more than happy to hand over to her the case. And she had been able to draw up some background on Orion Technologies, surfing through the Internet as she ate breakfast...from which she had learned that Orion Technologies had supplied computer systems in the past to the Pentagon, among other agencies.

"Really." A flicker of unease in Driscoll's eyes and he lowered his head to his keyboard briefly, his composure regained as he met Scully's eyes again, the smile once more in place but a little bit forced. "Well, how can I help you then?"

From the pocket of her coat, Scully drew out a small notepad and flipped through it, looking for her notes on the police report filed. "According to the statement your security chief--Albert Mason--provided to the police, at approximately 7:32 PM a security alarm was tripped in the Delta wing...and when a team was sent to investigate, they were fired upon by intruders...and returned fire." Raising her head from the notepad, she gave Driscoll a cool look. "Is it customary for your security staff to be armed?"

"The Delta wing is the heart of the complex--and the work done there is very...sensitive. We've had security problems in the past with employee theft...and had a design stolen by a competitor." said Driscoll with a rueful smile. "So we had to instigate some admittedly extreme security measures...in order to protect our data. But I can assure you that my people are not in the habit of using lethal force."

"Would it be possible for me to have a copy of your security log for the day? Plus any tapes of video surveillance?"

Driscoll nodded, almost a little too eagerly. "Of course--if you come by tomorrow I can have the tapes ready for you. The security chief--Mason--is at this moment making his report to the board--he won't be back in town till late tonight. I'll have him get on it right away." With a seemingly distracted air, he glanced down at his watch and then back at Scully, expression apologetic. "Sorry, but I have some appointments to keep...and a quarterly review to write up. I'll have the items you requested ready for you tomorrow by...say...noon?"

"Thank you." Scully allowed herself to be escorted to the door, Driscoll shaking her hand perfunctorily before ushering her outside. Scully gave the secretary Mandy a thin smile as she passed her desk and worked her way back to the outside. Somehow she thought that once she received the tapes and the log, there would be nothing there to indicate that the security staff had done anything but respond to aggresion offered by the intruders. And grimaced as she realized she was beginning to think too much like Mulder...

A frightening thought, that, she reflected with a shudder as she left the complex for her car.

"We could have gone out."

Michael flashed her a smile and turned his attention back to the pot before him, reaching across the burner to turn the fire down a little as he gave the pot a stir. "I don't mind cooking...if you don't mind me messing up your kitchen."

"Only if I get to clean it up." replied Scully as she moved up beside him and inhaled deeply. "It smells wonderful--what is it?"

"Tagliolini al Salmone--Tagliolini with salmon sauce." After a largely unproductive day and with the weekend coming up, Scully had felt that she deserved a little downtime...and found herself calling Michael again. When he'd offered to meet her at her place, she had given him the address and was surprised to see him arrive on her doorstep, juggling a bottle of wine between two plastic bags of groceries. And proceeded to whip up dinner with the ease of a chef, waving away her offer to help and encouraging her to just sit down and relax.

"Almost done--here, why don't you slice some bread?" Michael nodded at the loaf lying on the counter as he went to drain the pasta and then mix it with the sauce. As Scully cut the bread, he laid the serving bowl on the table and went to look for plates in the cupboard, brushing briefly against her and sending a tingle through her. Ducking her head to hide her faint blush, she took the slices of bread and lathered them generously with butter, setting them on a plate to take to the table.

Dinner was a quiet affair, comfortable small talk exchanged, a comparison of their work days, and once it was done they moved with wineglasses to the living room. Settling down on the couch, Scully took a sip of wine and stretched out feet, starting to push one shoe off her foot with the other as she put her glass down on the coffee table.

"Let me." Setting down his glass, Michael took her ankle in one hand and slipped her shoe off, hand briefly caressing her ankle before he reached for her other foot and removed that shoe as well. Bending her leg at the knee, he held her foot in his hands and began to gently massage it, the skillfull kneading of his hands easing the ache in her arches. With a parting stroke, he released her foot and smiled as she extended her other foot, scooting forward a little on the couch as he massaged her other foot.

"Umm...that feels good." Scully let her eyes close as his fingers worked their magic, leaning back against the couch arm, and her eyes flickered open as she felt his hand slide up her calf, fingers stroking her calf as he leaned forward. One hand was placed just beside her head to brace himself as he loomed over her, head lowering to hers, and Scully tilted her head back a little as his mouth came down on hers.

A brief, gentle kiss, Michael drawing back a little to gauge her response, and Scully surprised herself by winding arms around his neck to pull him back down, returning his kiss. Inch by inch he lowered himself until she could feel the hard length of him press against her, the back of his hand rubbing against her breast and arm sliding around her back to lift her up as he sat back on his heels.

Set on his lap, she felt the hard evidence of his excitement and it brought an answering ache, Scully shifting position so that she could rub against him. A low sound escaped him and gray eyes glinted as his mouth parted from hers, a promise in those eyes to repay her for that teasing. One handed he unbuttoned her blouse, bending his head to press a kiss to the curve of her breast, drawing his tongue teasingly across the cup of her bra and sending a shiver of delight through her as nipple grew taut in response. He unhooked the front clasp of her bra and breasts sprang free of confinement, Scully moaning as his mouth fastened on one breast.

Arm curved around her back, with his other hand he unzipped her trousers and wormed his hand inside even as mouth sucked at her nipple. Unerringly his fingers found her dampness and Scully arched up against his hand as it clasped her, one finger sliding inside her. Slowly, too slowly, his fingers stroked her, teased her, and she found herself tugging at his jeans, making a sound of disappointment as his mouth left her breast.

Michael chuckled as her hands fumbled with the fastening of his jeans.

"Patience..." he admonished and drew his hand out of her trousers, helping her unfasten his jeans and drawing them down over his hips. Hands caught the waistband of her trousers and dragged them down, his arms going around her as he went into her. She arched her back, a gasp escaping her, and rocked back against him as he moved in her, slowly at first and then with increasing power. He slid an arm under her to lift her up and drove deeper into her, Scully gasping her appreciation as she pushed back at him.

When her climax came it was in one great shuddering explosion, a roaring in her ears as nerves throbbed with delight. On the heels of her climax he achieved his release, letting himself slump briefly atop her before drawing back and out of her. Sliding an arm under her knees he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, placing a hungry kiss against her mouth.

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

Michael lay on the bed, Scully curled up against him, one arm draped across his waist, and waited until he was certain she was asleep before he moved. Carefully he slid out from under her, pausing when she stirred in her sleep, a murmur of protest escaping her, but then she merely rolled over onto her other side with a sigh. Slipping off the bed, he pulled the blankets up over her, fingers brushing against the ivory skin of her bare shoulder, and then turned to look for his jeans, pulling them on and leaving them unbuttoned as he padded barefoot out of the bedroom.

Her purse still sat on the coffee table and he sat down on the couch, casting a quick glance back at the bedroom before he opened it. A notepad lay on top of it and he flipped through it, scanning the notes she had taken--a brief description of the police report on the break-in at the research lab and then her own notes on the conversation with Driscoll. A name--Albert Mason--and his title--chief of security printed beneath it, along with a note about security log and video tapes--no worry there of discovery, even if there were tapes of the shoot-out with Orion's security force the team had been masked and there would be no visual ID.

Along with this a brief note that Scully suspected Driscoll knew more than he was saying--that, Michael could agree with as well. Time to pay a visit to him and see what could be learned--it would be easier to take him to Section and wring what he needed out of Driscoll there but Section did not want to be linked to this action. With the right amount of...motivation, Driscoll would tell him what he needed to know.

A search of her computer desk yielded a little more information. Copies of a dozen autopsy reports from the local coroner with bearing a very similar cause of death--trauma to the cerebrum, strongly considered to be electrically induced--and a sheaf of printed reports, taken from the Internet from the looks of them. It was the coroner's reports that interested him, evidence that this "experimental research" had gone a little farther than Michael had been informed. Which meant that not only would he have to retrieve the data on the experiment, he would have to recover as well any prototypes.

At the bottom of the reports he found notes that Scully's partner Mulder had taken and a quick glance through them gleaned little. At the bottom was a scrawled reminder for Scully to check with the Lone Gunmen for any further information--a moment's thought and Michael remembered where he had heard the name before. A trio of individuals that proclaimed themselves to be watchdogs for the government...and printed a weekly newspaper containing everything from bizarre theories surrounding the Kennedy assassination to some disturbingly true reports of government activities.

The Section had been aware of them for a long time and had deemed their potential threat to be minimal--given the paranoid slant of their writings, they would never be taken seriously by the mainstream and eliminating them would only give credence to their views. And so they were only watched.

Setting the papers back to rights, he returned them to their place and regarded the computer briefly, deciding that he did not have the time to attempt to delve into it. Rising, he returned to the bedroom and slipped out of jeans, moving carefully onto the bed to lay against Scully. She nestled back against him and he let himself relax, eyes closing as an arm went instinctively around her. Though he had thought he would lay there till she awoke, he found himself falling into sleep.

The last echoes of gunfire faded from the room, leaving in its wake an odd, surreal silence. Four bodies lay sprawled on the floor, the one nearest the window peppered with broken bits of glass, the smell of blood and death filling his nostrils. Through it all he had stood calmly just out of range of the window, watching as each fell under the hammer blow of the bullets fired through the window, feeling...nothing. Just a great yawning emptiness inside him...

It was as if he stood outside himself and watched a stranger, a stranger that gave the order to cease fire and turned empty eyes on the man that had been his friend. The man that he had spent so many long nights arguing and debating with, exchanging their hopes and dreams for their future, devising grand idealistic schemes to change the world. The man that had taken in his sister when he had thought Michael to be dead...

There were words spoken by Rene but he did not need to hear them to feel the pain they brought--all true, what Rene said...he was not alive, he had no soul. And it was so easy to stand there, to let Rene do the deed that would finally make that true...to let Rene kill him. He closed his eyes, offering no attempt to defend himself, and waited for the explosion, for the impact that would end the sham of his life. And it came in a roar of sound, a hard impact to the head, driving through flesh and bone, a bright light eclipsing all else and then fading, slowly fading. And with it the sensation of falling...

Michael came up out of the dream, body slick with sweat and blankets tangled round his legs, chest heaving as one trembling hand went to his forehead, touching unmarred skin. Just a dream...he drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping arms around them as he leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes.

Another nightmare, a new one to add to the repertoire...and like the others he had, this one held in parts to reality, skewing just enough from it to add a twist to it. In the daylight, he could rationalize his actions, shut himself from the emotional ramifications of his acts...but at night his psyche tossed up every lie, every betrayal, to be brutally reviewed. A mental flagellation, a twisted form of penance...

If not for Nikita's intervention he would have died in that small apartment, would have joined Rene's fallen comrades. He had walked in there, expecting to die, to pay that price for the betrayal of his friend. Even as he had heard the shot, he had thought that it was finally the end...but rather than him it was Rene that fell, Rene's last rasping breath that issued from him.

He had stood there, looking down at the dead man that had been his oldest and best friend, and gave voice to the words he would not have said to anyone else but Nikita, knowing that she was the only one that truly understood. You should have let him do it, he had said softly to her, and found to his surprise that he could still cry tears, though he would not let them fall. She had given him that, the gift of feeling again--odd that they had given her to him, so that he could change her into their vision of a perfect operative...for she was the one that had changed him.

"Bad dream?"

The sound of Scully's voice drew his head up and he blinked, only then realizing where he was...that he was in her bed, not his own. Irritation at his lapse of attention flickered through him and he lowered his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Yes."

Scully pulled her robe closed, wanting to extend a hand to touch him, offer reassurance, but she could feel a distance here, an awkwardness not present the night before. *He* was different somehow...

"Do you want to talk about it?" offered Scully hesitantly.

"No." The refusal was curt, the tone icy cold, and Scully drew back as his head lifted, gray eyes flinty as they stared back at her. Michael forced a smile, attempting to soften the single flat word, and added, "Thank you." He was aware that the word sounded almost grudging and he turned his eyes from hers, aware from her calm inspection that reminded him eerily of his own. "What time is it?" Better this time, his tone lighter, almost civil.

"About eight."

Michael grimaced and shoved blankets aside, rising from the bed and bending to retrieve his jeans. "Going to be late--"

Scully found herself distracted from her unease by the sight of his nudity, the unconscious grace of his movements as he fetched clothing. Not self-conscious as some of her partners, nor attempting to display himself, simply a man comfortable with his own body. A small sigh, almost of disappointment, escaped her as he pulled the jeans up, Michael running a hand through his hair as he snatched up shirt.

"Will I--will I see you again?" As soon as the words left her, Scully regretted it, flushing as she thought how needy it sounded. One night-stands were not her forte, it was just not in her nature to indulge in such a casual relationship...

"I have to work today..." Scully nodded, looking away as she wrapped arms around herself, so that the disappointment did not show, and Michael grasped her chin in his hand, drawing her head around so that she had to meet his eyes. "Dinner?" he asked.

Scully found herself smiling in response and reaching out a hand to lay her fingers against his bare chest. "Here?"

Michael smiled, a smile that was scarcely forced at all. "I'll bring something. Dessert is up to you." He leaned in to press a lingering kiss against her mouth, hand caressing her cheek, and then drew back. "I have *got* to go..." Another kiss, longer this time, and then he broke away, hurriedly pulling on his shirt as he picked up shoes. Scully followed him out to the living room, giving him a parting kiss at the door, and then shut it behind him, leaning back against the door with a sigh.

Reluctantly she pushed away from the door and looked to her computer. A rebellious voice in her head insisted it was Saturday and that she *should* take the day off...but just a few hours work...and she had to go see Mulder, give him a progress report before he started paging her...

And then she could have the night for Michael--smiling at the thought she went to her computer and turned it on.

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

With a sigh Stephen Driscoll leaned back against the wall of the elevator car as it took him up to the fourth floor and his apartment. 9:32 AM...and he was just getting home after another all-nighter. Not only did he have the company's board on his back about the security breach, he also had a half-dozen projects on the board that needed his immediate attention. And so to keep the board happy he'd crash for a few hours then spend the rest of the weekend at the lab.

As the elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor and the doors slid open, Driscoll pushed away from the wall and trudged down the hallway to his apartment. Dipping a hand in his pant pocket, he withdrew a ring of keys and inserted them in the lock, thinking longingly of the soft bed that waited for him. Once the job had seemed to be a relatively cushy one...but the Sojourner Project had revealed to him the company's true nature--the greed of the corporate animal that cared nothing for the human cost. And now he was in too deep to get easily out...

Opening the door he stepped into his apartment and shut the door behind him, turning to lock. And gave a yelp of fright as a hand grasped the back of his coat to shove him hard against the door, the cold muzzle of a gun digging into the back of his neck.

"Be quiet." suggested an equally cool voice.

Hands splayed against the door, Driscoll nodded quickly, far too frightened to make a sound even if he'd wanted to. He closed his eyes tightly as the gun's muzzle pressed harder into his neck, a tremor going through him; one of his staff members--Lawrence-- had asked him jokingly what price Orion Industries exacted for failure...and Lawrence had learned first-hand. A bullet to the back of the head, the police determining it was a mugging and shelving the case when nothing was forecoming. And it looked like Driscoll might pay that same price...

But the gun remained silent, a hand expertly sweeping over his body, searching him with a cool, inhuman efficiency. Once the man behind him had determined that Driscoll carried no weapons his hand went to grasp the back of his coat, pulling him back and turning him around to shove him forward. Stumbling Driscoll kept his hands up where they could be seen and went to fall into an armchair, only then daring a glance at the person that stood before him.

Dressed all in black, from boots to coat, black gloves to cover his hands, he held a gray-barreled gun easily in one hand, eyes as gray and hard as the gun he held, his gaze as penetrating as an Xray. Brown hair was worn long, down to his shoulders, but it did nothing to soften the man's hard edges, if anything accentuating the air of controlled menace.

"What..." Driscoll swallowed hard agains the dryness in his throat and managed to sound more normal with his second try. "What do you want?" He was pleased that his voice didn't shake...but that false feeling of confidence faded at the look the man turned on him, head tilted a little sideways as gray eyes swept over him, making Driscoll wish he hadn't spoken. This wasn't some ordinary thug hired by the company to terrorize him...

"Stephen Driscoll." It was a statement, not a question, spoken in a soft voice carrying a hint of an accent, a quiet voice...but one not lacking in power. "I want to know where the data from the project has been moved."

"What...what data?"

The man took one long stride towards him, as graceful as a stalking panther, and Driscoll shrank back into the chair, staring wide-eyed at him. Bending at the knees he draped one arm casually over his knee and tapped Driscoll's knee with the barrel of his gun. "A bullet here...and your kneecap shatters. It's very painful and requires surgery and years of therapy before you can use it again. And even then you never fully regain the use of it." His eyes raised from Driscoll's knee, an eyebrow arched questioningly.

"I--I don't know..." The muzzle pressed into his knee and Driscoll flinched, fingers digging into the arms of his chair. "They took it out of the lab after the break-in! I swear! It's been taken out of my hands--I don't even know where they moved it to...man, I wouldn't lie to you!" he added, voice rising as the man's finger tightened on the trigger.

The man blinked, studying him with that flat reptilian gaze, and then slowly rose, stepping back. "You'll find out."

"But I don't know--" He could hear the whine in his voice, cringing as the man reached down to grasp him by the arm and yank him up, dragging him over to his computer and shoving him down in the chair.

"In 1988 you were arrested for breaking into the mainframe of Orion Industries' computer system. In exchange for dropping the charges and wiping your record clean, you agreed to work for Orion Industries. In 1995 you were placed in the Research Division, to begin preliminary work on the Sojourner Project...and became Director in 1997, following your predecessor's unfortunate...accident." The man recited the facts calmly, each progressive word sending a chill down Driscoll's spine. Only someone in Orion's infrastructure would know all those details...or someone even higher up the food chain...

"You're a hacker. You have a way into the system that no one knows about. You can't be what you are...and not want to have a back door." The last was all about whispered into his ear, the man close enough that Driscoll could feel his breath on his cheek. "Use that back door and find me what I want to know...and you get to live." The muzzle of the gun brushed against Driscoll's cheek as the man drew back.

With trembling hands, Driscoll reached for his computer and switched it on.

Sipping from a cup of coffee, Scully regarded the screen of her monitor, contemplating the words she had already typed. It helped to focus her, seeing her notes on the screen, her attempt to work through the puzzle that a case presented to her...but now she felt stymied. If it were Mulder he would be positing wild theories about government conspiracies involving downed alien aircraft and recovered technology--but she could only sift through the facts that she knew.

Regardless of these unreliable Internet reports of alien technology, there *was* something odd going on here. At the very least, Orion Industries could be involved in some experimental research and employing some unsavory methods in attaining results. But without any more concrete evidence...she couldn't see the purpose in continuing.

The ring of the telephone jarred her from introspection and she reached for her cordless phone as she studied the screen before her. Even as she was saying hello, Mulder's voice broke over the line. "Scully, did you get Frohicke's message?"

Scully cast a guilty glance over at her message machine and the blinking red light that indicated messages. "Actually, no. I've been busy--"

"He called you last night, Scully. Don't you ever check your machine?" asked Mulder in exasperation.  "Never mind--Byers has been doing some checking, they think they might have a new location for this secret little project of Orion's. Didn't want to give the information over the phone...but they should be at their office all day."

Scully suppressed a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. "How sure are you this isn't a wild goose chase, Mulder?"

"Their information might seem a little off, Scully...but they've always come through." A creak and a grunt of pain came over the phone. "I'd go if I could..."

"Okay, okay, Mulder. I'm on my way." Slapping the disconnect button she saved her work to disk and shut down the computer, rising to dress in attire a little more appropiate. And thought grimly that if she ended up spending all night skulking around an empty warehouse she would go to Mulder's hospital room and personally adjust his traction.

By the time Scully arrived at the Lone Gunman's offices, only Langley was present, passing her a piece of paper and then all but shoving her out the door before he slammed it shut behind her. Shaking her head, she went back out to her car and unfolded the piece of paper Langley had given her. On it was scrawled an address in the industrial district and she sat still for a moment, contemplating it.

If she were Mulder...there would be no second thoughts, she would already be on the way there. But she was not Mulder and inclined to be skeptical of the information that the trio had given her. Still...there was not a great deal she could accomplish here and if this was not--as she dreaded--a wild goose chase, then she might be able to come up with some solid information.

Sighing, she laid down the paper beside her and buckled her seat belt before starting up the car and driving off.

Stephen Driscoll proved to be a fount of information.

As Michael had suspected, he did indeed have a back door into the Orion mainframe and with a little prompting had found the new location for the Sojourner Project. A warehouse in the industrial district, the ground floor empty...but below it was the lab, accessible only by a secured door.

Driscoll had sworn that it wasn't possible to access the files on the project via his own system--that the files were all held on a stand-alone system to prevent industrial espionage. And since Michael did not have the wherewithal to penetrate the lab on his own--and getting the necessary assistance from the Section was not an option--he was forced to use what resources were left to him.

Which meant hauling Driscoll along and hoping that the man's sense of self-preservation was healthy enough that he would cooperate.

Driscoll's initial protest had been silenced by pointing the gun at him...and after that had made no other objection. Had ridden quietly beside Michael all the way to the lab, taking the lead once they had gotten into the warehouse. Once they had found the security door, Driscoll brought from his pocket a small device to attach to the door and within a few moments had the access code to the door's lock.

"You don't need me anymore..." It was half statement, half plea, the anguish and fear in Driscoll's eyes undercutting his attempt at bravado. Michaelmerely gazed back at him and Driscoll all but wrung his hands as he said, "I go down there with you, they'll kill me..."

"If they even suspect that you assisted me, then they'll kill you anyways." replied Michael flatly and gestured with the gun for Driscoll to proceed him. Not only could he use Driscoll's assistance, he could also use the young man as a potential bargaining chip, as his own exit from the lab if something went wrong.

Glumly Driscoll led the way down the small flight of stairs and Michael kept close to him, gun held down at his side, using Driscoll's body to shield him from any potential cameras. They came to a security gate, bullet-proof glass framed by a metal bar at top and bottom, and Driscoll used his scanner again to find the access code. For a long moment they stood staring at the gate and then it finally rose.

Too easy, said a little voice in Michael's mind, but all the same he followed Driscoll down the smooth walled corridor, eyes flicking left and right, looking for some sign of a security camera. Nothing overt but their security would be anything but obtrusive...

Halfway down the corridor the lights overhead began to flash, a security gate ahead of them rising to show a handful of guards standing behind it. Michael began to move slowly back, one hand reaching out to grasp Driscoll's sleeve in an attempt to draw him along, but Driscoll pulled free of his hand, remaining where he was, hands lifted.

"Driscoll--" he said warningly but Driscoll merely shook his head at him, moving confidently towards the security guards. Casting a quick glance behind him, Michael saw the other security gate begin to slide close, cutting off his exit, and moved quicker towards it, even as the first two security ducked under the gate.

"I'm Stephen Driscoll, I'm the director--" Driscoll's words were cut off by a carefully placed bullet to his head and with that Michael sprinted for the gate, tucking and rolling as he reached it, just managing to slide under the bar. He felt the bar brush against his shoulder and squirmed under it, rolling to make it to the other side, just as the first hollow impact of a bullet to the gate came.

On hands and knees he knelt before the door, staring at the guards as they began to try and raise the gate, started to rise up to his feet only to be brought up short. The sleeve of his coat had caught underneath the gate and resisted his attempts to pull it free--wriggling, he extricated himself from it and ran for the stairs, finding to his relief that the security code still worked.

Shoving open the door, he squatted behind the shelter of the door to scan the immediate area before venturing out...and threw himself to the floor as a volley of fire cut into the air above him. Rolling, he came up behind the shelter of a crate, raising his head up long enough to determine that one of the shooters was placed up on a catwalk, counted to ten and then straightened to fire two shots, the man tumbling down from the catwalk to crash into a pile of crates.

A burst of fire in response and he crawled from the shelter of one crate to another, working his way slowly to the warehouse exit...

Parking a few blocks away from the warehouse, Scully approached it on foot, flashlight in one hand and gun tucked into the pocket of her trenchcoat for easy access. She made her way around the dark building and to the side entrance, a sigh escaping her as she examined the exterior. Another empty lead...

The sound of gunfire brought her up short, just as she started to turn back for her car, and she removed her gun as she headed cautiously in the direction of the firing. The side entrance, door unlocked and turning under her hand, and she stepped slowly inside, moving to the left and out of the doorway. A muzzle flash showed her briefly the profile of a man scanning the area, gun extended, and she aimed her gun at him.

"FBI! Drop your weapon!"

At her command the man turned, gun shifting to aim at her, and from overhead a bright light was shone on her, blinding her. Just as she heard the roar of a gun, something struck her hard, arms wrapping around her as she was borne to the ground, rolling with her towards the door. In the spotlight, she caught a brief glimpse of the person that had knocked her to the ground.

"Go!" ordered Michael, firing a shot at the spotlight and sending the warehouse once more into darkness, with a burst of glass and flying sparks. He shoved at her, rising to fire at the approaching guards, and Scully scrambled to her feet to run through the door. Michael was right on her heels, shoving the door closed behind them, and asked tersely, "Where's your car?"

"This way." She swallowed the questions that demanded to be asked, instead led the way to her car, the two of them running by the time they reached it. Unlocking her door as quickly as possible, Scully reached across the passenger side to thrust that door open, shouting for Michael to get inside. Keeping a wary eye on the way they'd come, Michael ducked inside and Scully pressed the accelerator to the floor, halfway down the street before Michael had even closed the door.

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

The man that sat beside her in the car, he looked--smelled--like Michael...but he was not the Michael Scully had come to know. There was no levity in this man, no emotion, just calm, cool purpose, grey eyes that had held a twinkle of amusement now flat and empty. He spoke to her only to give her directions as he checked his clip to see how many rounds he had left, sending her away from the industrial and deeper into downtown, away from the elegant hotels and into the seamier section of town.

He had vetoed her suggestion that they return to her apartment and in his tone there was no room for compromise, no acceptance of anything but complete obedience. And though it rankled her, Scully obeyed, because it suddenly seemed to be in her best interests to do so. Parked in the lot of a ramshackle hotel offering weekly and monthly rates, Scully went in to secure a room while Michael waited in the car. By the time she came back to the car, he was out and waiting for her, an arm sliding casually around her shoulder to add credence to the image of two lovers off for a tryst.

Once inside, his arm fell away from her shoulders and he gestured for her to move into the room as he secured the door and tugged curtains closed. With the lights on and Michael turning to face her, she saw for the first time that his black shirt was torn along the side and damp at the edges. Immediately she went to him, lifting the shirt up and batting away the hand that tried to stop her.

A crease along his side, not particularly deep, the shirt plastered against it sealing the wound, bleeding anew when she tugged the shirt away from his skin. Hurrying into the bathroom she grabbed a towel from the rack and returned to the bed, pressing the towel against Michael's side and laying his hand over it.

"I have a medical kit in my trunk--I'll be right back." He simply nodded in response, holding the towel to his side, and Scully hurried out to her car, eyes flicking from side to side, taking in the parking lot and looking for...who knew what. By now she should be used to maintaining this level of paranoia...but it never came naturally to her. From her trunk she retrieved her bag and took it back into the hotel room, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Michael had removed his shirt, the red of blood stark against pale skin, and his gun sat beside him on the bed. Dropping her bag on the bed, Scully fetched the small plastic ice bucket and filled it with water from the bathroom sink, grabbing another towel to wet it. Wiping away the blood she daubed the wound with alcohol and then stitched it closed, applying a bandage. Wiping her hands she cleaned the rest of the blood from his torso and helped him pull the shirt back on, torn though it was.

Task accomplished Scully stood back to study the man that sat before her and asked bluntly, "Who are you?"

Michael lifted his head to regard her quietly for a long moment and then finally said, "Thank you for your assistance." Taking his gun, he tucked it into the small of his back, behind the waistband of his trousers, and tugged the shirt down over it. Not effectively hiding but not displaying it openly either...

"Stop." Scully held up her hand, the other hand going to her gun tucked behind her belt.

Michael gave her a curious look, a slight smile playing on his lips, the effect--combined with cold grey eyes--an eerie reminder of the man she had thought he was. "I saved your life...and now you will shoot me? I don't think so, Agent Scully."

Slowly Scully withdrew her gun, holding it down at her side, and said flatly, "I want some answers. I want to know why you--you..." She blushed, remembering how they had been together, how alive he had made her feel, how loved and protected...

"Seduced you?" asked Michael softly, taking a step forward, grey eyes soft as he extended a hand to touch her on the cheek. The back of his knuckles brushed her cheek, thumb sliding across her cheekbone in a gentle caress, hand sliding down so that he could place his finger against her lower lip. And as she stood mesmirized under his touch, his hand caught her gun hand and twisted it till the gun fell into his hand. With that accomplished he stepped back and shoved her gun into his pocket.

"This was all a ploy to get close to me..." Angry now, angry at being taken in by his act, and her throat tightened as much with the anger as the threat of tears,irrational though they might be.

"To learn what you knew." agreed Michael calmly.

Scully shook her head a little to clear it, feeling some of Mulder's rampant paranoia beginning to rub off on her. "You work for the government." A blank look was all the answer she received and Scully rubbed her forehead wearily. "If we have the same purpose here, then it only makes sense to share information." Set aside the anger, the sense of betrayal, for there was a job to do here and it didn't allow for personal concerns...

"Our purpose is not the same. You want to bring this information to the light--my orders are to see that it is...transferred to a more secure location."

"You haven't exactly been successful in your endeavors." reflected Scully dryly.

A muscle in Michael's jaw ticced briefly. "I'm not dragging you along with me, Agent Scully."

"Alone...it doesn't look like we'll accomplish much. Together, pooling our resources...we might be able to find what we need."

"And what is your purpose, Agent Scully?" His eyes glinted with a cynical amusement, as if he already knew the answer...and was mocking her for it.

"To find the truth."

"One man's truth is another man's lie--truth is subjective." replied Michael flatly. "And it doesn't set you free..."

Scully regarded him steadily. "If Orion is engaging in illegal research, then I intend to pursue the matter...with or without your assistance."

He stared at her for a long moment, coolly assessing her, and then drew her gun from his pocket, handing it back to her, butt first. "If we're to work together, you have to do what I say. With no questions."

"If I can." responded Scully.

Michael's mouth twisted briefly, half grimace, half smile, and then he gave her a slight ironic bow. "Agreed." And extended his hand to clasp hers, sealing their uneasy partner ship.

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

They spent the night in the motel, sharing the bed, each remaining on their side of the bed. Though the physical distance between them was small, the emotional distance was vast, both lying awake and silent in the darkness of the room. Scully finally fell asleep, to awake in the morning and find that Michael was gone. Sitting up on the bed, she cast a quick glance around the room, looking especially for her gun...and finding it still sitting on the nightstand beside the bed.

Sliding off the bed, she dragged fingers through her hair and made a quick search of the room, finding that other than a bloodstained towel and discarded supplies, there was no sign that he had even been there. Sighing, she retrieved her gun and kit, picking up purse as well. She had till noon to leave but there was no point in remaining here, sitting and hoping that he'd return.

As she reached out to put her hand on the doorknob, it turned under her hand and Scully took a hasty step back, yanking her gun out of her pocket and bringing it to bear. She stepped back as the door slowly opened, gun up, and was about to tell the person there to halt when she saw it was Michael.

Holding in his hands a white paper sack, he raised his eyebrows at her and she sheepishly lowered the gun, moving aside as he moved into the hotel room and went to set the sack down on the dresser.

"You're cautious--good." Opening the sack, he withdrew two cups of coffee and a smaller sack of croissants. Taking a cup of coffee and a croissant he went to sit down in the single chair, sipping at the coffee between bites of the croissant, as casual as if he were sitting in his own living room.

Scully stood still for a moment and then finally went to get the other cup of coffee, leaning back against the dresser as she drank it, tearing off bits of the croissant. "I thought..."

"That I'd slunk off?" he asked with a small smile.

"Well, yes." admitted Scully frankly. "You haven't exactly been straight with me. I didn't expect you to start now."

Michael inclined his head, acknowledging the point, a glint of amusement now in his eyes. "You're learning, Agent Scully."

"We have been on a first-name basis--I think it's alright for you to call me Dana. Especially since we've been--" Scully trailed off, flushing.

"Intimate?" finished Michael, his soft accent giving the word a warm caress that was somehow vaguely obscene. Scully flushed deeper and looked away from him, damning both him and herself...for he still could send a shiver of delight through her with just the seductive sound of his voice. The promise in those grey eyes, half-lidded as they gazed into hers, the small smile playing on his sensual mouth--

"Stop it." she snapped.

The smile vanished as if it had never existed, Michael shifting from the adopted personna to what seemed to be his truer nature. Cold and competent, rising from the chair in one fluid movement, as if he had not been shot the night before. "We need to get to work. You said you had resources that could be shared..."

"Before we start...I want the goal to made clear here--"

Michael held up a hand to forestall her. "Up to a certain point, we share a common goal. When we reach that point then we can make any further...negotiations."

For a moment she considered debating the point and then shook her head. "Fine." she said wearily.

The ringing of her cell phone broke the thick silence in the room and Scully retrieved it from the pocket of her coat, flipping it open. "Scully."

"Scully, will you come down here and tell Dr. de Sade that I'm ready to blow this popstand?" demanded Mulder peevishly.

"Mulder, I'm a little busy right now--" she said irritably, flashing a look at Michael as he finished his coffee.

"Scully, it's not going to take that long. Surely you can spare a few minutes for my peace of mind?" wheedled Mulder.

Scully sighed and rubbed her forehead wearily. "Alright, Mulder, I'll be there in about twenty minutes." Not waiting for his reply, she disconnected the phone and turned to Michael. "We need to pick up my partner at the hospital. It shouldn't take long--and he might be able to add something. Knowing him, he hasn't been sitting idle." she added wryly.

Nodding, Michael followed her out the door.

"How deep is your involvement in this?"

Scully cast Michael a sideways glance as she spoke, returning her attention back to the road. He sat quiet, pondering what exactly he should tell her, which falsehood to offer, and she filled the silence herself.

"You were part of that team that hit the other lab, weren't you?" Another quick glance to see him regarding her with a blank stare and Scully tightened her grip on the steering wheel, all but grinding her teeth in frustration. "And have been cleaning up after it."

"You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?" A trace of amusement in his voice.

"Not answering...is an answer in itself."

"So it is." agreed Michael, not sounding the least bit perturbed about it.

It was almost as bad as talking to Mulder, she reflected sourly.

An hour later and she had convinced Mulder's doctor to release him, much to the relief of the nursing stuff, one nurse heard to mutter "Thank God" under her breath as she passed. Once that was accomplished, she headed for Mulder's room, Michael trailing quietly behind her.

Mulder was already out of traction and ready to slide out of the bed at seeing her. "About time..." he grumbled and then his eyes went to Michael standing behind her. "Who's your friend?"

"Michael, this is Mulder. Mulder--Michael." All the events of the last twenty-four hours seemed to be worth the look on Mulder's face as he studied Michael, expression almost pugnacious as he regarded the other man critically. The visual image of a bulldog defending his territory against a wolf came into her mind--Mulder steadfast and loyal, Michael sleek and dangerous. And neither man made the attempt to shake hands.

Oh, this is going to be fun, thought Scully, not without a small trace of glee.

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

Mulder regarded the wheelchair set before him with the attitude of someone faced with some fiendish torture device. "They gave me crutches to use." he said, turning a boyishly woebegone look to Scully.

Five years of acquaintance had shielded her from the effects of that look and she returned to him a steady one of her own. "And you'll use them later. For now, you use this. Hospital regulations, Mulder." she added with a certain grim enjoyment.

"Anyone tell you that you have a mean streak, Scully?" he complained as she rolled the chair closer to him.

"No one that was dependent on me for a ride home." she responded sweetly and stabbed a finger in the direction of the wheelchair. "In you go."

Grumbling Mulder scooted off the edge of the bed and began the laborious process of lowering himself into the chair, with much theatrical groaning. All the while Michael stood back by the door, leaning casually against the wall, completely at ease, a slight glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched the two of them. Didn't offer to help, sensing perhaps that his assistance wouldn't be welcome, just waited for Scully to get Mulder situated in the wheelchair and then went to fetch the crutches, proceeding them out of the room.

Down at the car, as Scully contemplated how she would help Mulder get inside, Michael silently took an arm and helped him into the backseat, Mulder giving him a grudging nod of thanks. Once they were on the road, Mulder lasted for all of two minutes before he finally spoke. "So...who's your friend, Scully?" That said with a challenging look at the back of Michael's head.

Scully glanced sideways at Michael but his attention was focused on the passing scenery, obviously content to allow her to fill in Mulder on the details...and knowing that she would omit certain ones. She glanced out her window, taking a moment to compose herself and overcome the flush that stained her cheeks.

"Michael has been offering his...assistance." she said carefully and bit her lip to hold back a hysterical giggle at the thought of *what* assistance he had offered. She definitely needed some serious sleep...

"Who do you work for?" The hostility in Mulder's tone Scully had been prepared for...and could understand. Over and over he had learned the same painful lesson to not blindly put your trust in someone.

Michael turned his gaze from the window, to flick a cool glance at Mulder. "Does it matter?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, it does." replied Mulder hotly, shifting on the seat and wincing in pain.

"Mulder." Mulder shifted his attention from Michael to Scully, her eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror, giving him her patented look that said as plainly as words to let it alone. Grumbling again he sank back against the seat and was silent the rest of the way to his apartment.

With Mulder settled on the couch, she and Michael seated in chairs, Scully related as much as she could of the previous night's events. Michael sat back, watching the two of them with the clinical detachment of a scientist observing the intercommunication skills of some private tribesmen.

Mulder listened, interrupting every now and then to clarify a point, and from time to time shot Michael a hard look, as if he were reading between the lines and knowing that there was more to this than Scully was saying. When she had concluded with the shooting of the night before, he was silent for a moment before looking to Michael.

Even as he parted lips to speak, Michael held up a hand to forestall him. "Don't bother asking me again who I work for--I'm not going to tell you. You have access to information and resources--I have the skills to act on that information. But right now you need me more than I need you...because I am willing to go to certain...lengths to meet my goals. Lengths that you are incapable of matching. For now I propose an alliance."

A long uncomfortable silence and then Mulder gave a shake of his head, turning a little to face Scully. "I don't trust him, Scully."

"Neither do I, Mulder." admitted Scully reluctantly. Hadn't really, since that night...even though Michael had saved her life. And she didn't doubt at all that as soon as Michael no longer saw their alliance as advantageous he would go off on his own. "But I don't see that we have much choice--I'm running into dead end after dead end here. If we're to make any kind of headway here...it looks like we'll need his help."

Reluctantly Mulder nodded. "Lesser of two evils, huh?" he said, a little dig at Michael.

In return Michael gave him a cold smile. "You have no idea, Agent Mulder."

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

Grudgingly Mulder allowed Scully to show Michael what information they had gathered so far. Sat beside Michael at the table and found herself glancing as much as his brown head bent over the documents as she did at the documents themselves. Trying to see if there was anything at all of the Michael she had known...and wondering why it made any difference. He had lied to her, manipulated her, seduced her...a flush stained her cheeks. Well, it couldn't really be considered seduction...she had been a more than willing participant in what they did.

Michael reviewed the documents with great care and once done he sat back, turning his head to look at Scully. "Is this all?"

From his position behind them on the couch Mulder made a rude noise which Scully ignored. "Yes. Do you have anything to contribute?"

Michael looked down at the papers before him, not seeing them but something else. "They'll have moved the research lab. Or at the very least moved the data. The data is what we need to retrieve--the actual constructs they assembled are inherently flawed, as you can see from the results." He gave the autopsy reports a flick of his fingers.

"And who gets the data in the end?" That from Mulder, sitting on the couch.

The silence between them grew oppressively loud as Michael merely gazed back at Mulder, unblinking, and Scully found herself watching the two, mentally bracing herself for the confrontation. "Does it matter?" asked Michael, sounding genuinely curious.

"Of course it does!" said Mulder indignantly. "The benefits that something like this can have--the advances that can be made. To be able to connect with a computer at the most basic level--to have your thoughts be its commands. The possibilities are endless, not to mention the benefits. We'd be able to open channels of communication for those with disabilities--"

"And in the wrong hands, it can be used for military purposes." said Michael quietly, effectively cutting Mulder off in mid-sentence, dashing water on the fire of his idealism. "For it to be in the hands of the private sector is too dangerous. Even *you* must agree to that, Agent Mulder."

With the greatest of reluctance, Mulder finally nodded. "I'm just not so sure where you'll be taking it, will be a better place."

From Michael there was no response, none that he could give...for the more he learned of this, the more he was inclined to agree with Mulder. Only the fact that the Sojourner Project had yet to come up with a viable construct stilled that tiny voice of his conscience, lain dormant for so long only to be awakened by a blond-haired recruit that challenged the very foundation of the Section.

"We need to find the new location for the Project." stated Michael, glancing down at his watch. By this time, there would only be a skeleton crew in Section and of course Birkhoff would still be at his computer...

"I'll make a few calls." said Mulder, starting to lever himself up off the couch and halting when Scully shook her head at him, going to retrieve his phone and address book. By the time she had straightened, Michael was already at the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked tersely.

Michael lifted an eyebrow at her tone but answered her all the same. "To meet a contact." And then slipped out the door, closely it softly behind him.

Sighing Scully went to sit down beside Mulder and gave him a warning look. "Not a word, Mulder."

"Who, me?" asked Mulder innocently and lifted his hands to protect himself as she tossed his address book at his head.

Birkhoff's attention was focused completely on the monitor screen before him but rather than satellite photos or the scrolling screens of a database, the screen showed the figure of a young man in a policeman's uniform methodically shooting stumbling zombies. Grinning as a shotgun blast decapitated one hapless zombie, Birkhoff ignored the ring of the phone for a few minutes and then finally picked it up.

"Birkhoff."

"Shut off the game." Birkhoff gave a guilty start at the sound of Michael's voice issuing that command, finding himself looking quickly around the computer bay to find it empty. How did he--Birkhoff shook off that irrelevant question and quickly saved his game before exiting. "I need you to look up something for me. I want you to compile a list of any properties that Orion Industries holds on the East Coast. With an eye to any building that might serve as a research lab."

"Hang on." Birkhoff's fingers flew over the keys, the game forgotten for a greater game, the pursuit of information. "Okay...I'm getting twenty locations. You did want me to leave out the corporate offices, right?"

"Correct. They're not going to hide anything there. Narrow the field."

Birkhoff rolled his chair to the next monitor and tapped at the keyboard. "Let's see--I'm showing standard electrical output for most of them. What kind of research?"

A brief hesitation from Michael. "Computer related."

"Okay, if they're doing some major programming, then the output is going to be high..." A tap of a key and he was in the accounting database for the local power company. "Uh-huh...I think I've found what you're looking for. Denton Pharmaceuticals...a subsidary of Orion Enterprises...1220 Exeter Street, Baltimore, Maryland." He rolled back to the other monitor to scan the screen. "According to the quarterly reports, there seems to be an equal amount of money going out as there is in...which is very unlikely. If there's no profit margin then someone is going to be taking heads..."

"I need schematics, an overview of the security system, any other information that you think is necessary."

Birkhoff nodded. "I'll get on it right away and fax you the information." And disconnected, grabbing a piece of beef jerky to gnaw on as he set to work.

A half hour of calling elicited no information from any of Mulder's contacts. Not even the Lone Gunmen were able to come up with something new, Byers stating that wherever the lab had been moved to, it was being kept tightly under wraps. Stymied as they were, they took a break, Scully departing to get something for dinner.

It was while she was gone that Michael returned, letting himself into the apartment. Thinking it was Scully returning, Mulder had half-risen from the couch, only to sink back and regard Michael with a jaundiced eye.

"Back so soon?"

Michael smiled thinly and went to the table to set down his briefcase, flipping it open and extracting from his pocket a cell phone, which he proceeded to attach to what was presumably a laptop computer, working in complete silence.

Silence that Mulder could only allow so long before he asked, with studied casualness, "How did you meet up with Scully?"

Michael remained hunched over his laptop, seemingly intent on its screen, but answered all the same. "Ask Scully."

Mulder ground his teeth briefly and then admitted reluctantly, "She won't tell me. That's why I'm asking you."

Michael cast him a glance over his shoulder. "If she won't tell you, then why do you think I will?"

"She's my friend. I'm concerned about her."

This time Michael turned a little to face him, grey eyes steady. "Then as her friend...you should respect her wishes."

As Mulder parted lips to deliver a retort, the door opened to admit Scully, carrying two white take-out bags. Her eyes went from Mulder to Michael and then back, lips parting as if she would say something but then she shook her head and went to set the bags down on the coffee table.

"Anything?" she asked Michael.

He nodded absently, turning away from his computer screen. "A location for the lab...and a plan of attack that will require both your assistance."

Scully nodded, managing to hide the flare of surprise that he would ask so easily for their assistance...and trying to ignore the suspicion that flared as well. "Dinner...and then you tell us the plan." And reached to snag the bag that contained pork chow mein before Mulder could grab it first, ignoring the wounded look he cast her. She had the feeling she was going to need all the strength she could get...

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

Plates and empty cartons of take-out had been stacked on the kitchen counter to make way on the table. Spread across its surface were the schematics that Birkhoff had faxed and Michael had taken a moment to study them before calling the two agents to look at them. Mulder sank down into a chair at Michael's right, turned at an angle so that he could get a good view of the schematics, and Scully stood behind Michael, looking over his shoulder.

"This is the lab's new location. Pharmaceutical company..." Michael tapped at the floor plan, reaching across the table to draw closer the pile of diagrams of each individual room. "One level structure, approximately 5,000 square feet. From the layout, it appears that the main lab should be located here." He pressed a finger to the center of the diagram. "There's going to be a central computer and the data we need should be there. What we need to do is get to the computer and retrieve the data."

"Piece of cake." said Mulder sourly.

Ignoring him, Scully studied the diagrams before her and glanced at Michael. "You're the expert--what are we facing here?"

"The computer room will be secured. Access will be restricted--each door coded. I can get us past that and into the room--what I need from you--" He cast a sideways glance at Scully, "--is to keep watch for me. I can't get into the computer and watch for guards at the same time. And Mulder will be in the car as backup--if we don't come out he can call for assistance." Though he didn't like the idea of being in the custody of the FBI--and the Section would like it even less--it was preferrable to being tortured...or dead.

Scully looked glumly down at the diagrams, reviewing her mind each individual law they would be breaking with this venture. Didn't like it...but she could agree with Michael's statement that such technology was too dangerous to be allowed in the private sector, especially given Orion Industries' demonstrably callous disregard for the health and lives of its test subjects.

"When do we go?" she asked.

"Midnight." stated Michael calmly. "There are three security shifts--7:00 AM to 4:00 PM, 3:00 PM to 12:00 AM, 11:00 PM to 8:00 AM. When the next team arrives, the team on duty does a walk-through of the facility. The 11:00 to 8:00 shift has only three guards--one will remain at the security station while the other two patrol."

"How long before I should get worried about you two?" asked Mulder dryly.

Get past the computer's security, gather the data and download the files onto a CD, upload the virus and make certain that it had crashed the system-- "An hour." With a link to Birkhoff to offer assistance, an hour would be the maximum amount of needed time.

"The security station is located just past the main entrance--we'll be making our entry through a service door on the west side of the building." At his signal, Birkhoff would create a temporary loss of power to the building, long enough for the eletrical locks to disengage and allow them entry. Short enough to cause no suspicion. "We proceed to the computer room and you keep watch while I download the data. Once that is done, a virus will be uploaded into the mainframe, to ensure that there is nothing to retrieve."

Scully frowned. "And all the data will be contained on this computer? There won't be any backup files on other systems?"

"Not according to Driscoll. To prevent theft by hacking, they've elected to keep the files on a standalone system." Michael glanced at his watch--three hours to go. Time enough to get some more equipment, establish the link with Birkhoff. Rose from the chair to grab his coat, saying, "I'll be back at 1130." And with that he left the apartment, the two agents looking after him in silence.

"I still don't trust him, Scully." said Mulder in an almost belligerent tone.

Scully mulled that over and let loose a sigh. "I think that he's our best chance of actually pulling this off, Mulder. He *does* seem to know what he's doing." And she had a feeling that she would be safe with him...though she couldn't say exactly why she thought that. With another sigh, she turned her attention to the diagrams, attempting to memorize them, wishing on one hand that Mulder would be coming in with them...and on the other glad he wasn't.

Denton Pharmaceuticals was sandwiched between a textile company and a self-storage warehouse, an alley leading down the west side of it. It was to that side they went, Michael carrying a backpack and Scully just her gun, hair tucked up into a black cap, dressed in black as Michael was. Stopping before the door, Michael examined it while Scully looked nervously up and down the alley.

"Now." said Michael softly and from the building behind them came a flicker of lights, the power cutting off briefly and sending even the street lights into darkness. A loud clack came from the door and Michael pulled it open, gesturing for Scully to proceed him and then easing the door shut behind them.

"Clear." said Michael into the link and the faint reddish glow of the backup lights faded before the more natural lighting. Touching Scully on the arm, Michael indicated with a jerk of his head for her to follow him and she did so, moving quietly down the corridor with him.

Their destination was soon reached, Michael slipping the backpack off his shoulders and opening it to remove a small black device. Holding it over the keypad set in the door, he pressed a button and waited until the readout gave him the correct combination. Punching the buttons, he waited for the accompanying buzz and pulled the door open, gesturing Scully in first.

"Watch the door." he ordered and went to the computer situated in the center of the room, dropping down into the chair before it to regard the screen with Orion Industries' logo. "I'm at the computer." he said to Birkhoff.

"Okay..." A pause and then Birkhoff said, "Try this one--Socrates."

Tapping the mouse brought the main screen on and a request for a password; typing in the letters, Michael studied the screen as he waited but rather than taking him into the system, it flashed the message INCORRECT PASSWORD. "No good."

"Hmm...Security probably doesn't have a high enough access level to get into the system. Did Driscoll have a password?"

Ulysses was the one he had used to get into Orion Industries' mainframe...typing that in, Michael held his breath as the screen went blank, body tensing with the expectation of an alarm ringing, but then a welcome screen came on and he let that breath out slowly. "I'm in." From inside the backpack he withdrew a pack of CDs and removed one from its jewel case to place it in the CD drive.

From her position at the door, Scully glanced quickly at him and then returned her attention to the door and the small window set in it. In a few moments' time, with Birkhoff guiding him, Michael found the needed files and began the process of copying them. This process would take the longest time and he glanced at his watch periodically as he waited for the file transfer to end.

Twenty minutes later and with two CDs full, it was done and Michael took the disk containing the virus and inserted it into the drive, scanned the contents of the disk and highlighted the execute file, clicking on it. And sent the virus into the computer to do its work--once it was done, there would be nothing salvagable. Though instinct told him he should go, he waited until the virus had so completely invaded the system that it couldn't be extracted before stuffing the CDs into his backpack and returning to Scully.

At his nod, she eased the door open and they slipped out it, heading for their exit point and leaving the building as quickly as they had entered. Once outside, Michael caught Scully's sleeve, pulling her up short, and when she turned to him with a frown, he pressed the two CDs into her hand.

"In case we should be seperated--I think it's safe with you." he said quietly.

Weighing the CDs in her hand, she looked at him in surprise and he went past her, heading for the car. Shaking her head a little, wondering if she would ever really be able to figure him out, she hurried after him.

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

"Now where to?"

Mulder asked the question from where he sat in the back seat, Michael and Scully seated side by side in the front. Beside her Scully had the two CDs Michael had given her and she gave them a sideways glance as she came to a stop light.

"We have to place them somewhere secure." said Scully slowly, tugging the cap from her head and smoothing red hair down, and met Mulder's eyes in the rearview mirror, seeing him come to the same conclusion that she did. If there was anyone that could provide a secure location for the disks it would be the Lone Gunmen--and as guardians of the disks they seemed to be the best choice. And that thought was enough to make her grimace...

As the light turned green and she put her foot on the gas pedal, Scully looked to Michael, who was studying the passenger side rearview mirror, and found herself lifting her eyes to the rearview mirror, trying to see what had captured his attention. Cars behind them but it wasn't that surprising, even at this time of night.

"What is it?" she asked.

"We're being followed. Two cars back." He bent over to rummage in the backpack and then zipped it shut, pulling it up into his lap. "Slow down at the next light, signal for a right turn--I'll get out there, you continue down the road. They might follow me."

Shoulders tensing, Scully turned her head, a sharp retort on her lips but dying at the cool look he gave her. Lips tightening, she did as he asked, flipping the turn signal as she came to the next light and coasted to a stop, moving her head as if watching for traffic.

As soon as the car slowed, Michael opened the door and sprang out, backpack slung over his shoulder, taking off at a run. Once the door had shut behind him, Scully hit the gas and nearly broadsided a car seeking to go around her. A horn was blared but she ignored it, her attention focused on the rearview mirror, just in time to see a dark sedan go screeching around the corner in pursuit of the dark figure that had already disappeared from view.

A second car accelerated behind them and Scully swerved into the left lane, making a wild turn and ignoring Mulder's curses as the car fishtailed before gaining purchase, a car on their left coming perilously close to hitting them, the tail end of it striking the rear of their car before pulling away. Hitting the gas, Scully sent the car hurtling down the street, eyes going constantly to the rearview mirror but seeing no signs of pursuit.

A sigh of relief escaped her but she did not relax until they had arrived at their destination.

For nearly five minutes Scully and Mulder stood outside the door to the Lone Gunmen's office, Scully pounding on it as Mulder balanced on his crutches, watching the street. At last the door opened, Frohike adjusting his glasses as he shoved the tail of his shirt into his pants, a frown creasing his brow as he looked at them.

"What's--"

"No time to explain." said Mulder smoothly, gesturing for Scully to go inside.

She slipped past a bewildered Frohike and Mulder came after, awkward on his crutches, Frohike closing the door behind them. "We need a computer, Frohike."

"Uhh...sure." Frokike blinked rapidly and smoothed down rumpled thinning hair, leading the way past bookshelves and to the computer in back. Yawning he motioned to the computer and Scully sank down into the chair before it, placing the two jewel cases down beside the keyboard. As she reached to press the eject button to open the CD tray, her cell phone rang.

Pulling it out, she flipped it open and said into it, "Scully."

"Agent Scully." At the sound of the smooth voice Scully rose from her chair to move over to Mulder, holding the phone out so that he could hear it. "You have something that belongs to me...and I have someone that belongs to you." Mulder grimaced at the sound of the all too familiar voice of the man he affectionately referred to as Cancer Man but remained silent. "I propose a trade. The CDs you have...in return for the young man's life."

"How do I know he's still alive? Or that you even have him?" she challenged.

A chuckle from the other man and then he ordered tersely, "Speak." Silence, broken only by the sound of ragged breathing, and Scully said, "Michael?"

Another stretch of silence and then Michael's voice answered softly, "Do what you have to do." Expressly telling her to leave him hanging out to dry, damn him--did he really think she would do that? Even if he wasn't the man he had pretended to be and was certainly not an innocent in this...she couldn't allow him to be executed.

"Lincoln Memorial. One hour. Don't be late, Agent Scully. It wouldn't be conducive to your friend's health. And of course I don't have to tell you that you and Agent Mulder must come alone." A click and the connection was broken.

Drawing in a deep breath, Scully replaced the phone and reached for the CDs, only to feel Mulder's hand press down on hers. She lifted her eyes to his and he asked quietly, "What if this is all just a set-up, Scully? What if Michael works for him...and this is his way of getting the disks back to him?"

"Do you really think that, Mulder?" she asked in turn.

Slowly he lifted his hand off hers. "No." he admitted with a sigh. "But damn it...to have this information and just let it go--"

"It frustrates me too, Mulder...but I'm not going to sacrifice Michael's life for it." said Scully flatly, taking the disks in hand and setting off for the door. Mulder moved as quickly as he could after her, lifting a hand to Frohike.

"Thanks, Frohike."

"Sure, come again when you can't stay so long..." muttered Frohike as he closed the door behind them and went back to bed, hoping that he could return as well to his dream about being a photographer for Playboy...

Scully and Mulder waited at the foot of the steps that led up the Lincoln Memorial, Scully glancing at her watch every so often and pacing as the hour came and passed. In her hand she held the disks, slapping them against her palm as she made one last circuit.

Only to halt as she saw the man approaching, head wreathed in his trademark cloud of smoke as he came forward. There was nothing especially noteworthy about him, from nondescript navy suit to the soft features with sagging jowls that lent him a basset hound look...but there was nothing soft or soulfull in his eyes.

"Do you have the items?" he asked, exhaling smoke.

Scully held up her hand to show the two cases. "And you?" she asked pointedly.

Dragging deep on his cigarette he turned to give a curt nod and two men emerged from the shadows, leading a third between them. There was a shallow cut on his forehead and a bruise on his cheek but Michael was walking under his own power, seeming to suffer no other ill effects.

"Disks." said Cancer Man firmly.

Taking a step forward, Scully gave him the disks, yanking her hand back just before his fingers touched hers, and said flatly, "Let him go."

Examining the disks, Cancer Man waved at this flunkies and they released Michael, fading back, guns extended as Cancer Man moved to join them. He cast Scully a glance over his shoulder and said, "You wouldn't be pulling a fast one on me, would you, Agent Scully?"

"No." she snapped, reaching to take Michael's arm and pull him back with her.

Cancer Man chuckled as he followed his men away from the memorial.

Sighing, Scully undid the ropes that bound Michael's wrists behind him and he rubbed wrists, turning to face her, an odd expression on his features. "After what I did...you'd still bargain for my life?"

"Yes." she said plainly, tossing the ropes aside, and he turned his head away, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "But let's discuss this somewhere else...before he decides that eliminating us might be in his best interests." And tugged at his arm to get him to follow her and Mulder.

Returning to Mulder's apartment, they spent a tense few hours sitting awake, awaiting the possibilty of retaliation, but when it grew close to dawn and no attempt was made, Mulder drifted off to his bedroom, Scully taking the couch while Michael took a chair.

When she awoke later, she wasn't terribly surprised to find that Michael was gone, not even so much as a note of thanks. Sitting down at the table, she let her head sink briefly into her hands, shoulders slumping. So much for another potential romantic prospect, she thought sourly, and surprised herself that she could actually laugh.

Shaking her head, she got up to make some coffee.

"So the mission was a failure."

Michael sat composed before Madeline's desk, a small bandage on his forehead to cover the cut, the bruise darkening to black on his cheek. His treatment at the hands of the older man had not been particularly brutal, just enough to subdue him and afterwards he had offered no resistance. After all, drawing attention away from Scully had been his plan all along--and he had gambled that he knew her well enough, that she would trade the disks for him.

"Was it?" returned Michael and from the inside of his coat pocket he withdrew a pair of disks, placing the cases down on her desk and sliding them forward.

"You switched disks." A faint smile curved Madeline's lips, one that Michael returned with an even smaller one of his own.

"They were watching Scully--and it seemed wise at the time." He had stashed the disks under the passenger seat in Scully's car, retrieving them later to be brought back to Section.

"Excellent." said Madeline, the smile widening to Cheshire proportions as she tapped a fingernail against the cases. "You may go."

Nodding, Michael rose from the chair and left her office. Once he had gone, she dialed the extension for Operations' office, picking up the disks to study them as she waited for him to answer. "I have the merchandise. I think it's time for us to start renegotiating our position with the Consortium." And smiled again as she replaced the phone.

The End.

Send suggestions and comments to Ghost