RATING: R.

SPOILERS: Duh! It's been years folks, if you haven't seen the show yet, what on Earth are you doing here?

CATEGORY:Angst/Humor/MSR/Post Apocalypse AU.

KEYWORDS: The Day After Today. Buzzzz!!!

DISCLAIMERS: M&S used to belong to that poncy-lily-ass-surfer-dude, before these incarnations of them decided to take residence in my head where they're nice and cosy and have tremendous sex, thank you very much. Faye extends a graceful finger to 1013, because she can.

THANKS: To Jules, my Booted, Nimbled-Fingered, Beta-Bitch and to X-angel for Yeehaaa!American linguo input.

NOTE: This is the morning after Human Credentials'last book ended. Mulder Scully and her clone Faye are on the run. The world is being ravaged by a mysterious and lethal virus. And the bees are back.

FEEDBACK is my vaccine: ionlygetfive@yahoo.co.uk

This is Part 1: Chapter1 to 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter One: ONE CLOUD

I wake up to find Mulder, standing naked by the window. I stretch languidly and take the time to enjoy the view.

"Scully. Come over here."

His head hasn't turned. He just knows I'm awake. Psychic boy.

"What is it?"

"Just come over here."

That's when it hits me. The stillness of his posture, the tensed muscles in his back, the tonelessness of his voice.

His panic voice.

Something's wrong.

I join him by the window, as the fog of sleep lifts its safe and opaque veil over a series of jumbled up memories from the past few days: TV newsflashes, dead kid on the road, kissing in the rain, panic in the streets, Mulder making love to me, closed airports, arriving in Montana, state of emegency, media blackout, hugging in the shower - our hearts turning to ice, and above all blood, blood on the streets, everywhere.

I follow his gaze. At first I don't notice anything remarkable, just another motel parking lot. A smattering of cars, wings shining with morning dew, the vending machine on the side by the reception. Everything seems quiet and peaceful which is not surprising at this time in the morning. It's still early.

And then I see them. Although my view is partly obstructed by the rows of cars, there is no mistaking what they are. Bodies. Several of them, lying on the ground like forgotten bundles of clothes. Bloody bundles of clothes.

I raise a hand to my mouth. "Oh my God, what happened here?"

Mulder does not answer, seemingly frozen in place.

I curse under my breath and run to grab my bathrobe. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe I can still help.

I rush towards the door, my hands knotting the terrycloth belt and collides into Mulder, his tall frame now standing in my way, blocking the exit.

"No."

He grabs my shoulders and forces me to stop.

"Mulder, let me go" I hiss at him.

"You can't go outside, Scully"

I struggle against his grasp."For christ sake, Mulder, will you just..."

"Look." Still holding me by the shoulders he pushes me towards the window again.

"WHAT?" The doctor in me baulks at being delayed. Lost minutes means lost lives.

"LOOK!" He points at our car - which is parked right outside our window -and I spot several bees, wings fluttering on the white hood.

And taking what - I must confess - is a pretty annoyingly accurate imitation of my voice, he murmurs in my ear: "They're just bees. It's spring, Mulder."

I sigh. "I didn't say that."

"No, but you thought about it."

"Briefly," I admit.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way, partner..." I feel his hands leave my shoulders and I turn around to face him, "...but real bees or mutant ones, I'm not taking any chances. Not again, not when..." he stops, unsure, and lifts a hand to stroke my cheek.

I stare back and covers his hand with mine.

"I know."

Look at that, dead bodies outside and the world falling apart and selfish little old me is experiencing happiness right here, in a shabby motel room, all thought of heroic rescue suddenly gone and forgotten.

You really know how to pick your moments, Dana Scully.

Mulder smiles. I guess he likes what he sees in my eyes. "Good."

He leaves me to retrieve his jeans from the floor and puts them on, before grabbing the bed sheets and returning to the door to bunch them up at the bottom of the door frame.

He then goes in the bathroom and comes back with a stack of towels. In the same fashion he blocks the ventilation grid and any potential entrance point he can find in the room.

I sit on the bed and watch him, at a loss what to do next; part of me wants nothing more than to lie back down under the sheets preferably with Mulder between my legs; while the other part - the physician, is casting nervous glances at the window, teeth grinding with pent up guilt. The Hippocratic Oath is an unforgiving master.

This Happiness stuff is really cramping my style.

"Shit! Faye!" Mulder suddenly shouts and runs to the connecting door that separate our rooms.

The mother in me shoves Dr S. out of the way after stealing her guilt scalpel to inflict an extra vicious jab. Once again, I am the last one to worry about my daughter.

I follow him, anxiety burning the back of my throat.

Faye is sound asleep in her bed, her long blonde hair spread on the pillow like the Fairy Tale Daughter Of Frankenstein that she is.

Mulder audibly sighs with relief. "She's alive."

I hide my grin and squeeze his arm in empathy.

***

"Scully! Stop fidgeting!"

I wrap the duct tape around her waist making sure the trash bags are secured into place and double-check that not an inch of her skin is showing.

"It's fine, Mulder, really."

I step back and look at my handiwork. "I knew these Hazmat Suit 101 lessons would turn out to be useful one day."

Scully is struggling to fit another bag over her head. I help her out. She smirks at me.

"What? More useful than the Tower of Furniture?"

Our eyes lock at the memory and the urge to kiss the life out of her is overwhelming.

Sadly, now is not the time, not with Faye watching, at any rate. Scully's pretty clone has got this peculiar way of observing us which is rather unerving - like she's secretly writing a book on Human social behaviour and wants to get every detail just right. I swear she makes me feel like a bug under a magnifier.

Instead I secure Scully's makeshift balaclava around her neck and merely nods: "definitely."

My partner puts her autopsy glasses over the bag now covering her head and face and I secure them with duct tape as well. "So, how do I look?" She asks in a slightly muffled voice, adjusting her breathing mask.

"Like the Trash Fairy."

"You're funny, Mulder." Her tone suggests the opposite.

"You, me and a roll of duct tape, what's not to like, Scully?"

"You are a really sick man, you know that?"

"So I've been told many times."

"It won't help if the virus is airborne," Faye's serious voice points out behind us.

We both turn towards her, sobering up.

"If the virus is airborne Faye, it won't make any difference whether we stay inside or not."

Scully grabs her medical bag - well - an Adidas sport bag containing a variety of drugs and pharmaceutical equipment that we managed to gather during our trip. "If this is a virus at all. With a bit of luck, all we're dealing with is a serial killer on the loose." She thinks for a moment at what she just said and winces. "Wow, there's a phrase I'd never thought I'd use..."

I accompany her to the door. "No heroics, Scully."

"Believe me, Mulder, if I ever decide to go and save the world, it won't be dressed like a blimp."

I grin. "Thank God, I forgot to tell you about this Catwoman outfit."

She ignores me, grabs the door handle and takes a deep breath. "Here we go."

She opens the door quickly and slides out. I quickly slam it shut behind her and run to the window where I'm shortly joined by Faye.

We see her make her way through the parking lot to the nearest victim. She kneels down, checks the man's pulse with her gloved hand and turns her head towards us. She shakes her head.

Dead.

As I watch her take blood samples from the corpse, Faye suddenly pulls on my sleeve. "Someone's coming out."

I follow her gaze to a bungalow, on the other side of the parking lot and see a man stumble out of his room, a woman in his arms. He looks around him and spots the bodies lying around, eyes wide with panic. Faye and I watch as he runs towards a blue Ford, opens the back door and lays the woman's inert body across the back seat. His keys escape his grasp and fall to the ground as he opens the driver's door. He drops to his knees to retrieve them but does not get back up. His body seems to convulse in a series of spasms and as his face turns towards us, I understand why.

He's coughing.

Coughing blood.

And my own runs cold as I see Scully heading towards him. I yell and bang my fists on the window. "SCULLY! NO! DON'T GO! IT'S TOO LATE!"

She either doesn't hear me or chooses not to because she doesn't stop. I curse and run to the door - which is locked.

"FUCK!" How that door got locked, I don't know and I don't care because right know I'm about to smash it down. Unless... in three long strides I reach the connecting door - locked as well. "What the H..."

"She said not to let you out." Faye's voice is calm and even as ever.

I swivel round on my feet. "WHAT?"

The young clone raises her hand at eye level and shows me her key. "She said you might do something stupid if you thought she was in danger."

"Give me that key." I march towards her, fuming.

"No."

What happens next I'm not quite sure. All I know is that one moment I'm trying to grab her wrist and the next, my cheek is pressed against the musty carpet and Faye's foot is pressing on my neck.

"How did you do that?" I gasp.

She shrugs. "I don't know."

"Let me up."

"Promise you won't try to go out again."

"Listen to me - " I try to lift myself and she increases the pressure on my throat, choking me.

"If I apply more pressure, you will pass out, remain still."

"Okay, okay, listen, she can't go near that man, it's too risky."

"She knows what she's doing. You should trust her judgement."

I sigh. Out of the mouth of Babes...

"Fine. Let me up."

"You promise?"

"YES!"

She removes her foot and I roll on my back, rubbing my neck. By the time I get up, the young clone is standing again by the window - with her back to me - not even checking what my next move is gonna be.

Trust

I gave my word and it's enough.

The fact that, just now I had no intention to do what she asked, brings a sour, shameful taste to my mouth.

I guess I now have two people in my life to keep me honest.

Bummer.

In the parking lot, Scully is injecting the dying man with something. His pale fingers clutch like claws at her plastic covered arm and I pray to the Gods of Garbage Bags everywhere - please don't break, don't break, don't break.

The man goes limp in her arms and I watch my patner's shoulders slump forward. She bows her head for an instant.

I think she's praying too.

Eventually, she stands up and makes her way back towards us. As she walks I see her suddenly stop and slap her arm. She bends over to retrieve something from the dusty ground and rummages in her bag until she finds a glass container to deposit what I'm pretty sure is a bee.

Her knock on the door makes my heart jump like a pogo stick.

"Mulder, I want you and Faye to go into her room and close the door."

"You okay, Scully?"

"I'm fine."

"Sculleee..."

"Really. Do what I say."

Her voice behind the door is impatient and business-like. She does sounds fine. Bossy-fine. I breathe more easily.

"All right."

"Did you put those sheets and bags on the floor like I asked you?"

"Yes."

"Then go. And don't forget to take our bags, once I'm done we won't go into that room again."

"That bad?"

"I'm not taking any chances either."

That's my girl.

In the other room, Faye and I wait as Scully goes through her carefuly rehearsed decontamination scenario. A meticulous choregraphy involving various changes of gloves and successive removal and disposal of all the protective layers of bags and clothes we piled upon her earlier.

Faye is quiet in her corner and I don't feel like speaking either. I should be planning our next move and all I can see is that dying man's hand gripping her arm.

I grab the remote control and switch the TV on. Screen after screen of static confirms that the media blackout, as they called it, is still in place.

That or there's already nobody left to read the news.

An icy cold needle takes residence in my throat and won't let go.

As I've beern saying all along, The Truth is out there.

And it's going on the rampage.

***

Scully shuts the door behind her and leans her back against the wood. Faye and I watch her as she closes her eyes, looking small and tired in her white terrycloth robe.

"Scully?"

Her eyes open and she stares at us evenly, her thoroughly scrubbed-up face making her look deceptively young - and pink.

"We need to get out of here."

I walk towards her. "Are you okay, Scully?"

She nods, "I think so."

I don't like the uncertainty in her voice. I ache to touch her, but her body language - poised for flight - tells me she'd rather have me stay away from her. I try not to think about why that is. The man's pale hand comes back like a ghostly inmprint behind my eyelids.

So, I back off, pick up a chair and sit down. "What did you learn?"

"As much as I hate to admit this, Mulder, your insane Quonochontaug theory could very well be correct. The bees maybe inoculating a very agressive form of TB virus, which liquefies the lungs within minutes."

"We just have to avoid getting stung." Faye points out as she goes to sit on the bed.

Scully shakes her head."I'm not sure but it seems to me that there are too few bees around and too many dead people out there for this to be true, Faye."

Faye nods. "So, it's also highly contagious."

Scully looks at her grimly. "That's what I think, for now. I would need a lab to run some tests, in order to be more specific."

Faye ponders over this for a moment, frowning and licking her lips just like her mother does, and although I see her more like an individual and less like a clone each passing day - every now and then, she looks so achingly like Scully, that I can't help remembering what she is - and it still freaks the living Hell out of me.

"All right, so in order to survive, we will also need to keep clear from anybody who's been infected, no matter what." Her eyes avoid Scully's as she says this and hold mine instead for a brief, intense second.

I grit my teeth. I know what you're thinking, kid, and I'm *not* going there. I glare back at Faye, who, true to her heritage, ignores me and keeps talking.

"If we can find a decent medical facility, we might be able to start working on a cure...if I can get hold of Rifampin, Isoniazid, Pyrazinamide and Ethambutol, that is."

"Piece of cake." I drawl.

Scully scowls at me. I shrug. She rolls her eyes before adressing her daughter.

"Faye, I doubt RIPE therapy will work with that strain,"

"Probably not, but it might slow down the effects to some extent" She shrugs, "it's a place to start."

Scully nods her assent. The kid's medical fluency is making her mama proud, I can see. Huston, we have Lift Off of the Great Bonding Rocket.

Shame about the crap timing.

"We can travel at night, bees only fly in daylight." Faye continues.

"Yes, but these ones have been genetically modified." I point out.

"There's only so much you can engineer. Trust me on this." She replies, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

Of course.

I also often forget that this gorgeous version of my partner is a consumate scientist with a knowledge of genetic engineering that would probably make Dr Mengele eat his Svastika-studded Lederhosen.

Scully nods, she still hasn't moved away from that damned door. "So, that's settled then, we'll leave at night."

"Where do you want to go?" I ask in measured tones. A lot has changed since our - well Skinner's - initial plan to go and hide in Montana, there might not be much point of us going there anymore. I doubt looking for two runaway agents are very high on the government's priority list right now.

Maybe we should just go home and help Skinner.

It is only a flicker in her eyes. A flicker she obvioulsy doesn't want me to catch as she drops her gaze and pretends to be suddenly fascinated by the blue swirls of the carpet at her feet.

But I do catch it. She worries about her family, her mother - yes - she wants to go back to Washington.

The old me probably wouldn't have noticed, but since *that* night I've got her - to use a corny Sinatra cliche - under my skin. Her psyche has become my Yellow Brick Road and I feel the need to map every inch of it. Sofar, I think I've done okay with the corporeal part - hey, I'm a guy, we're proud of these things - and making this articulate, soft-spoken woman, writhe and gasp under me - moaning broken syllables of my name, makes me prouder than catching Monty Propps.

But inside she's still a 5000+ jigsaw puzzle.

My inner profiler has found himself a toy he never knew he had.

And I suddenly don't wanna leave Kansas anymore.

Her voice startles me.

"We follow our initial plan. We go to the address Skinner gave us, he knew we were heading that way. He might have left us a message, some information we can use, even if..." her voice trails off as she lowers her head once more.

This time I can't help myself - screw contagion - I leave my chair and step towards her. Scully starts and raises both hands in warning. "Mulder, don't..."

I bat her hands away and gather her in my arms, away from the door. "Screw this, Scully you're not sick or you would be already."

Her body is tense and hard as a block of wood in my arms.

"We don't know that." She murmurs against my chest. Still, she does not push me away. I guess her need for comfort after what she's just witnessed outside is too strong.

I raise her chin with my hand and turn her face left and right. "No coughing, no bleeding..." I kiss her forehead gently, "yup, you're fine, partner."

She relaxes in my arms and her lips curve up in the ghost of a smile, "stop stealing my lines, Mulder."

I chuckle, "you're fine," I repeat, rubbing my hands against her back.

She looks up at me seriously.

"Probably, maybe...even so...you should be more careful, it's not just about us anymore," she softly points out.

I follow her gaze. She's looking at Faye, who is still sitting on the bed, head tilted on one side, her ever-so-serious eyes fixing us like two green laser pointers.

See what I meant? Bug Hunter mode.

"You're either suicidal or stupid." She states in a tone that suggests she arrived at this conclusion after carefully weighing various options.

"Give me a break, Faye. She's not sick." Scully starts to move away, but I tighten my grip, holding her close, my hands tracing soothing patterns over small shoulderblades that stick out like vestigial angel's wings. I am bitterly reminded how many times I've been close to losing her.

I don't give a damn about the fucking plague. I'm not letting go.

Faye jumps off the bed with the fluid grace of a Russian gymnast and heads towards the bathroom.

"I don't understand you." She mutters under her breath.

I bury my nose in Scully's hair as the door closes behind the young clone.

Not yet kid, but one day you will.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two: ONE OMEGA.

10pm.

I jerk awake in the car. "Mulder! What was that?"

"Speed bump. Go back to sleep, Scully."

I straighten up in my seat, blink several times and run my tongue over my teeth to chase the dry, doughy taste of slumber.

"Speed bumps? On the highway?"

Mulder shrugs and I try to make out his face in the near darkness.

His jaw is clenched like a Christmas nutcracker.

The car jumps once more and I see Mulder's knuckles whiten as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

A cold shiver flows down my spine and I reach out for his thigh. The strength and solidity of it allows me to breathe out some of the anxiety that is taking residence in my chest.

"They're not speed bumps, are they, Mulder?" I ask in a small, frightened voice.

He doesn't answer.

I turn my head towards the back seat and meet Faye's grim gaze. She shakes her head. No. They're not speed bumps.

My hand leaves Mulder's thigh as I settle back in the seat, hugging myself.

The car lurches again, and again...and again.

I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip to kill the terrified whimper I feel blossoming in my throat.

Bodies, we're driving over bodies.

***

3am.

"Well, this is it. If Skinner's map is right, that is." Mulder taps a gauge with his fingernail, "in any case, we're running out of gas."

The dirt road we've now been following for a few hours - relieved that the occasional bumps and lurches were only caused by potholes - has led us to a tall wire fence topped with barbed wire. In the car headlights we can just about make out the dark rectangular shape of a building beyond the gate. After such a horrific journey, the soft yellow light oozing from a couple of windows greets us like welcoming beacons.

Mulder kills the engine and honks his horn a couple of times.

It isn't long before we see a beam of light making its way towards us. The gate opens and a tall, imposing woman steps out, flashlight in one hand and 22 Long Rifle in the other. I might just have been wrong about the welcome part.

She stops in front of our car and aims her gun at Mulder through the windshield.

"Step out of the car." She shouts in a strong, clear voice.

Mulder looks at me and shrugs. He opens his door, Faye and I do the same.

"What do you want?" the woman asks gruffly, once we're all standing outside, still aiming at Mulder's head.

"We're looking for Moses Stanley. We're friends of Walter Skinner. I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder, this is Special Agent Dana Scully and this is Faye."

"Prove it."

Mulder sighs and digs in his jacket pocket for his ID. He flips it open for the woman to inspect. "Assistant director Skinner is a tight-ass, bald Navy bastard. Are we done here?"

The patience of a Saint. I roll my eyes at the stars above.

"You got that one right," the woman lifts her gaze back to us and her face brakes into a wide grin as she flips her rifle over her shoulder.

"Took you long enough, we weren't expecting you anymore."

"We took the scenic route." Mulder deadpans.

The woman sizes him up with that special look that most people get when dealing with Mulder for the first time - the one that says: 'Jerk/Avoid If Possible'

"Right." She taps the side of her gun. "Sorry about that, but these days, you're never paranoid enough. Come on. Get your bags."

She starts walking back towards the gate.

"Mulder, I think we may just have found your soulmate," I tell him as I retrieve my small suitcase from the trunk.

He shoulders his bag and leads me away from the car with his hand pressing the small of my back.

"Shut up, Scully," he whispers in my ear, his hot breath making little butterflies of lazy lust flutter their wings low in my belly.

We step inside a tastefully decorated farmhouse with wooden floors and old but sturdy oak furniture. The woman sets her rifle on the kitchen table and turns towards us, extending a welcoming hand.

"I'm Mozes Stanley. Welcome to Hell Creek."

"You're *Moses* Stanley?" Mulder chokes out, shaking her hand.

"You have a problem with that *Fox*?"

"Uh...I just thought..."

She waves a hand at his bewildered face. "...that Moses was a man, and you're right. Moses with an "S" is my husband. I'm Mozes with a "Z"."

I catch Mulder's eyes and send him a warning look. No smart-ass comment, partner, now is not the time to piss off the natives. Especially not when said native is about as tall as you and has the body of a GI Jane who's eaten her double ration of Wheaties.

Moze's eyes settle on Faye. "Is this your sister?" She asks me.

Shit. The Thousand Dollars Question.

"I'm her daughter." Faye answers before I have time to wrap my lips around some big fat lie.

Sometimes, I swear that my clone possesses some of Mulder's Foot In Mouth genes floating somewhere.

Mozes stares at her. "No kidding." She turns towards me, "Teenage mom, eh?"

I shrug noncomittaly. Oh well, I guess that'll do. I'm a slut. Yay.

Mozes seems satisfied by my non-answer and turns back towards Mulder, while I direct at Faye a sniper stare, daring her to rectify the assumption. My daughter arches a puzzled blonde eyebrow but keeps her mouth shut. There's hope for her yet.

"Come on, you must be exhausted, let me show you the bedrooms, it's going to be dawn in a few hours and I need to make sure that the house is sealed tight. Bees, you know."

Yes, we do know.

Mozes leads us to the guest rooms on the first floor, the dark wood creaks under my feet as I climb the stairs and these simple, reassuring home-like noises calm my frayed nerves somewhat. Although I have more or less recovered from the dreadful Treatment which nearly left me for dead two months ago, my senses are still painfully sharp - my emotions too close to the surface - especially when I'm tired. And driving over corpses didn't help either.

"Well, Faye can have this room," Mozes says as she opens the door on a smallish, sparcely furnished but cosy blue bedroom. "and you two can share this one," she adds with a wink, pointing to the door opposite.

Mulder clears his throat, while I try not to blush. I guess we're not quite used being considered as a couple yet.

"Oh, don't give me that look. It's as obvious as a bill on a duck's face." Mozes playfully scolds in warm motherly tones, ushering us inside the room.

She goes and check the window frame while we mutter our thanks and drop our bags in the middle of a spacious, pale yellow room. The high King Size bed with its homemade quilt is a damn inviting sight. I can barely keep my eyes open.

"Right, that should do it." Mozes turns her sharp moss green eyes towards us. "Just make sure you don't open the windows unless it's an emergency and I mean House on Fire - can't get out -type of emergency, 'kay? There seems to be fewer of the buggers everyday, but it just takes one."

I nod. "Where is your husband , Mrs Stanley?" I ask her.

"Gone hunting. Food supplies are getting harder to come by these days."

"Have you had any contact with the outside world recently?" Mulder asks. In spite of our repeated efforts, none of our cellphones - or any phone for that matter - have been working since the blackout began.

"Yup, as a matter of fact we're still in contact with your boss. Every day at 12pm sharp."

We both gape at her. Skinner's alive! I lean my back against the nearest wall as casualy as I can - my knees are turning to jelly - told you, not much good with strong emotions these days.

Mulder invades Mozes' personal space in his usual modus operandi. "Really? But how do you manage...?"

The tall woman smirks: "Morse code, the only thing that still works. I can't wait to give him the good news - that should put some hair back on his scalp - he's been fretting over you two something fierce." She pats Mulder on the shoulder and makes her way towards the door. "Bathroom's down the hallway, help yourself in the kitchen if you're hungry. Good night."

The door closes on us. I aim straight for the bed and collapse on the brightly coloured, clean smelling quilt. I close my eyes and breathe in deelpy. It feels just like home.

"You ok, Scully?"

"hmm-hm, just tired."

I feel the warmth of Mulder's hands against my ankles as he removes my shoes. I smile and fall asleep.

+++++

I remove my slumbering partner's jacket and jeans and slip Scully under the bedsheets. I'm still too wired up to sleep and so decide to go and check up on Faye. I step into the hallway and knock on her door. "You OK in there, Sport?"

The door opens. Faye is holding a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, a towel thrown over her lean shoulder. "What sport?"

Here we go again. "All right Faye, this, is Lesson number 12: Nicknames: as in: Sport, Kiddo, Champ, Cupcake, Jellybean, Honeybunch, Peanut, etc..."

"You're weird."

Now may not be the time to point out she was grown from alien goo in a fishtank. Scully keeps telling me about this thing called tact.

"Let me guess, no nicknames in Soylent Green High?"

Hmm. Guess I could do better.

She purses her lips. "You know, Mulder, half the time, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Your popular culture references are completely lost on me."

"But didn't you say you grew up watching TV?"

"Yes, educational programs and occasionaly the Discovery channel. However, we did not get to choose. Everything was taped beforehand."

"All work and no play, uh?"

"You could say that."

She doesn't extrapolate on her past, she never does. I have the feeling that our young protegee wants to put this part of her so-called life behind her as quickly as possible and forget all about it. I can't say I blame her.

"Well, I just came to see if you were OK."

"I'm fine."

Remember, those little things that creep me out? Well there's another one. She sounds exactly like her mother when she says that.

I remove my hand from the door jamb and turn to go when her low voice asks behind me: "Will we be staying here long?"

I turn my head to look at her. "Maybe, I don't know. Why? Don't you like it here?"

She shrugs. "We've just arrived, I don't know yet. But that's not why I'm asking..." She pulls back her sleeve and shows me her wrist. The skin there is beginning to peel like a bad sunburn. "I'm shedding, it's going to last a couple of days and it usually comes with a mild fever. Getting back on the road in this state would be...uncomfortable."

If I've learned anything from Scully's bout with cancer is how adept she was at understating physical pain. If her daughter is anything like her, what she's not saying is that her new skin is gonna be so tender and raw, she is going to feel like she's been flayed alive for a few days.

I nod. "All right. Whatever happens we will be staying here until you recover."

"Thank you." She hesitates. "There's one more thing."

"What it it ?"

"Is my mother ashamed of me?"

I scowl at her. "What put such a stupid idea in that little head of yours?"

"Earlier, when Mrs Stanley asked..." her voice trails off and she rubs at her wrist through the thick cotton of her black, long sleeved T-shirt.

I sigh. The kid can be so damn blunt and precise, but when it comes to talking about her mother and her complex relationship with her - or lack thereof - she becomes as coherent as an abused kitten.

Carefully, I take the toothpaste and toothbrush from her hand and leads her inside the room, closing the door behind me. I put the items on her bedside table and pats the bed next to me. "Come here, Faye. Sit down."

She throws me a wary look but does sit by my side, folding one long leg underneath her.

"We've been through this before haven't we?" I gently scold.

She doesn't answer and just keeps looking at me, waiting.

"You have to stop this Faye. Your mother is *not* ashamed of you. But you have to admit that - as introductions go -'This is my five years old cloned daughter with added alien genes, and I'm her abducted sterile mother. Yes, I know, she is big for her age.' is not the ideal icebreaker with people we've just met."

She flinches at my words. See? Scullys don't have the monopoly on bluntness after all. "I know that." She whispers.

"So why do you ask?"

"It's just...the way she looked at me...she was angry."

"She was angry because you didn't keep your mouth shut, that's all. You're reading way too much into this." I pat her knee, " besides I *know* she does care a lot about you, she told me so herself."

Faye shoots me a defiant look. "Does she? Most of the time she looks at me with either pain, sadness or annoyance - like I'm some mistake she wants erased. I could understand at the beginning, the shock, the after-effects of the Treatment..." her husky voice catches in her throat, "... but it's been nearly two months, Mulder, and she still avoids talking to me whenever she can."

She drops her head to look at my hand resting on her knee. I want to reassure her but I don't know what to say, because let's face it, she's right. And I've been so wrapped up in my new, mended-up relationship with Scully - not to mention that small matter of world-wide genocide - that I failed to notice that things between mother and daughter had remained more or less at a standstill. Great Bonding Rocket, my ass.

She sighs. "I don't understand why having a mother would come to mean so much to me. I don't want to need her, I really don't. This is not rational."

Yep, the apple never falls far from the tree, even if the tree ignores it.

I shrug. "Everybody wants to be loved by their mother, Faye, it's only human." The picture of a teenage Fox Mulder - watching his mom swallow Valium in the bathroom, his school report hanging limply in his hand pops up in my mind. Ah, the sweet childhood memories of the Mulder clan. Always eager to make a guest appearance. I kick them back firmly in their closet.

"But I am not *only* human"

"It's close enough though"

My hand leaves Faye's knee to stroke her slim shoulder and as her head turns to follow my movement, I see a tear rolling down her cheek. She quickly wipes it with the back of her hand.

Right. I cannot bear to see a Scully cry, any Scully - well, maybe not Bill.

So I draw her into a hug and for the first time she hugs me back without reservation. I feel my throat become tight and starched. That must be what being a father feels like.

She is silent for a long time as I stroke her hair, hoping soothing noises will make up for my lack of answers. "Shhh, it's ok, it's ok."

Let's weave beautiful lies for the innocent child.

Thing is:

she's not a child.

Her innocence got robbed at birth.

And I can't weave for shit.

Oh well.

Better lame than never, I guess.

"It's ok, everything will be fine. She'll come round eventually, I promise."

Yes and Skinner will appear in a white toga and curly blonde wig, sprout golden wings and fly us all to a land far far away while playing "Imagine" on a rainbow harp.

Hmm...I need rest.

"I never cried before." Faye quietly says after a while, with her cheek still resting on my shoulder.

I let her go with a half-wince half-smile. "Welcome to the wonderful world of human emotions, Faye. It's what makes us so damn entertaining."

I stand up and pat her head. "Try to get some sleep. I'll talk to Scully."

She huffs. "Yes, and she will listen, because she always does."

I grin. "Oh ye of little faith." I head for the door.

"Mulder?"

I look over my shoulder. "What?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, Peanut."

She rolls her green eyes, but I see her lips curve, the closest thing to a smile I've ever seen on that beautiful, strange face of hers.

***

4 am

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I make my way back to our bedroom and get undressed while pensively looking towards the bed where Scully is soundly sleeping. She's hogged all the covers again.

I slide myself under the sheets as quietly as I can and close my eyes.

As I'm about to drift off, I feel a small hand on my stomach. A sleepy voice asks: "Mulder? Where were you?"

Well, lucky me, she's awake.

I draw her close to me, feeling her cold little feet seek the warmth against my ankles. I kiss the top of her head. "Talking to Faye. Go back to sleep."

"Talking about what?"

"Nothing major, go back to sleep Scully."

The weight of her head lifts from my shoulder. "Mulder? What is it?"

I sigh. "Her skin has begun to shed."

I feel my partner move over me as she searches for something by the bedside table. Soft yellow light chases the darkness and I open my eyes. Scully is sitting by my side staring at me with concern. "Is she alright?"

I sit up and stiffle a yawn, rubbing my chest. "She is for now."

"And?"

If I club her on the head, does that make me a bad person?

"Her skin will be sensitive for a few days and she'll run a mild fever, that's all, nothing to worry about. Can we sleep now?"

I switch off the light and turn on my side. Conversation over.

Except that I don't feel her lying back down. Damn.

"Mulder? What aren't you telling me?"

Yep. Thought so. It's not over until the small lady sings.

Badly.

Joy To The World.

God, I need to sleep.

"Paranoia is *my* field of expertise, Scully. Everything's fine. Really."

"Right." The matress bounces as she leaves the bed.

I switch the light back on. "Where are you going?"

She's putting her jeans back on. "To see Faye and find out what's really going on."

I sit up again. " No! Scully, please, come back, now is not a good time."

"For Christ Sake, Mulder, just tell me!"

I lift both hands in surrender. "All right, all right, just come back to bed." The woman's knack to guess when I'm not being 100% honest is uncanny. I guess years of being ditched by yours truly has honed that skill to perfection.

She glares at me but takes her jeans back off and climbs back into bed.

I look at her, kneeling at my feet with her back ramrod straight. I'm trying in my head all kinds of ways of broaching the mother/daughter subject and none of my scenarios end up with me having my balls still attached in the morning.

"So?" She raises an impatient eyebrow at me.

"Give me a minute, I'm trying not to piss you off here."

"I'm already pissed off, Mulder, spit it out already."

Oh well, Mulder The Eunuch has quite a nice ring to it after all. Maybe I'll even get a decent singing voice out of it.

"How would you describe your relationship with Faye?"

She frowns, opens her mouth, closes it, shakes her head.

"It's complicated. Why?" She finally ventures.

"Have you made any efforts recently to make it less complicated?"

"Mulder..."

"Yes or no?"

She sighs deeply. "No."

"And why is that?"

She punches the matress and flops herself irritatingly against the headboard.

"I don't know, she's...I am...it's difficult Mulder."

I take her fidgeting hand in mine and curls my fingers around hers.

"I know, Scully."

"No, you don't."

"Then tell me."

"I already told you, Mulder. I'm trying to adjust."

"Don't take this the wrong way, angel, but there doesn't seem to be a lot of trying going on."

She pulls her hand away. I'm expecting her to start yelling at me any minute now. Only she doesn't. She stares at the wall in front of her, and doesn't say anything.

"Talk to me, Scully."

"I don't want to be having this conversation."

"Well that's too bad Scully, because you started it and now, we're having it."

"It's my problem, Mulder. Let me deal with it."

"But you're not and it's hurting her."

She turns her head towards me, her eyes welling up.

"How do you know?"

"The kid..."

"She's not a 'kid'."

"Oh, but she is Scully, in spite of her appeareance and you know it."

She hits the pillow with her fist and the tears escape her blazing eyes as she shakes her head with anger: "SHE'S A CLONE, MULDER, A CLONE, THE HYBRIDIZED PRODUCT OF A MEDICAL RAPE! SHE'S *NOT* A KID!"

Good, two months I've been waiting for her to blurt out something like this. We're going somewhere now. And I did tell you there would be yelling. My turn now. I push the bedshheets away and grab both her upper arms forcefully as my knees land on each side of her thighs, straddling her and effectively forcing her to look at me as I hiss in her face:

"But she thinks like one and she's not just a clone, she's your clone Scully, *your* clone, which makes her *your* daughter! And she needs you! She was crying, Scully. Her first tears were shed over a mother who won't talk to her! So don't you just sit here and tell me you're dealing with it when you're so obviously not!"

My partner stares at me, her chest heaving like she's run 10 miles. I pin her with a hard stare. "She was raised in a lab, Scully, slept in a cell, had needles jabbed in her arms until they turned blue and God knows what else done to her. She's suffered enough. She needs a mother to kiss it and make it all better. Find a way to be that mother! There's no-one else!"

I release her arms. Tears are flowing freely down her face now and I can feel her whole body trembling under me. Two Scullys crying in one night and I'm still not getting used to it. I feel like a complete asshole - nothing new here then.

Her head drops forward, her red hair falling like a veil over her face, hiding her tears.

"I don't know how," she chokes out.

"Just talk to her."

I reach out to brush the hair away from her face and softly bring my lips to her cheekbone, tasting the salt of her grief.

Scully's breath hitches and she buries her face in my neck with a strangled little whimper.

I rock her in my arms as she cries. This post-Treatment Scully is so much more fragile than the old version. Had we had this type of conversation only a few months ago, she would have told me to fuck off before storming off to sulk. There would not have been any tears, that's for sure - not from her at any rate.

Unless... *Help me come back, Mulder*, that's what she'd said that night, in the parking lot.

Could it be that this time, she's letting me in?

I think I might just pass out in shock.

I lie back down into bed, taking her with me. I kiss the top of her head, caressing the length of her spine with my fingertips.

Scully sighs in my arms. "What do I tell her, Mulder?"

"Hell if I know, you've always been the people person in this relationship."

She snorts. "Yeah, right."

"She doesn't need a lenghty speech, Scully, just let her know that you care for her."

"I do care. In a way."

"I know, but she doesn't. She needs to hear it from you."

She nods against my chest and as I fumble with the light switch, welcoming the darkness, I feel her body finaly relax against mine.

I listen to her breathing as it gradually slows down.

'May you live in interesting times' the old - allegedly Chinese - curse goes.

Well, we are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Special Thanks: to Xandria for the Hell Creek location. To Haven, for being back online.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Three: ONE SKIN

Hell Creek. 10 am.

Coffee.

I smell coffee.

And a hand rubbing my shoulder.

"Good Morning Sunshine."

Mulder. And coffee.

Good.

I open my eyes. Sticky eyes.

I turn my head slightly. Ow. Headache.

Images swirling in my head like milk in a cup.

I remember.

Bad.

Piles of bad.

I close my eyes again. Don't wanna go to school today, mom.

The hand on my shoulder becomes more insistent.

"Scully, wake up."

"Hmmfff...am 'wake." I grumble.

"Sure you are. Come on." Mulder's amused voice drifts over me. I swallow thickly. Skunks have been partying under my tongue overnight.

I roll over wearily and extract my upper body from the bed. I look through slitted eyes as Mulder takes hold of my hand and curls my fingers around a steaming mug of black heaven.

"What time is it?"

"Around 10."

Full awareness returns slowly as I sip on my coffee. My headache is not as bad as I first thought. Outside the sun is shining and everything seems deceptively peaceful. I take in the room with its yellow walls and a print of Van Gogh Sunflowers hanging above an old chest of drawers with thick brass handles. Mulder sits on the edge of the bed, just looking at me with half a smile. His crumpled shirt, stubble and tired eyes pull at a painful little string in my heart.

"What's up?" I ask, stifling a yawn.

"I just met Mozes significant other, downstairs."

"Ah. Moses with an 's'. And?"

"He's pretty...significant."

"Meaning?"

"Let's just say that he makes Skinner look like Little Bo Beep."

I smile around my mug. "Is that so?"

"Hm-hm. Seems like a nice enough guy though."

I stare at him and raise an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing...it just isn't like you, to make such a comment on someone you've just met."

Mulder dangles his hand limply in front of me. "Firm handshake Scully. The guy crushed half the bones in my hand."

I set the mug on the bedside table. "Let me see."

I take his hand in mine and bend his fingers one by one. I finish my cursory examination with a kiss on his palm. "You're fine."

He catches my wrist as I release him, his thumb caressing the soft skin over my pulse. "I am now."

His hazel eyes are soft as he leans over to kiss me. I raise my free hand and touch his lips with my fingertips, shaking my head.

"Lethal morning breath, Mulder."

"Scully, I did CPR on you covered in slime."

"I know, still...humour me."

He kisses my fingers instead. "OK."

I run my hand through his unkempt hair tenderly.

"How reliable do you think it is, judging people by their handshake?"

His brow crinkles. "Well, it's a good indicator on how straightforward a person can be. There was that young doctor once, who came to my office..."

"The one you thought was a spy?"

"That's the one," he grins at me "she had a damn good handshake that one."

"Did she?"

"That's right. Straight as an arrow she was too."

"Was she?"

"Yup, mind you, said arrow was up her ass most of the time...kept second guessing my every move, poking holes in all my theories..."

I laugh and kiss his forehead. I treasure moments like this. Simple, easy, little kernels of happiness. They anchor me.

"Krycek had a firm handshake." I point out.

"The exception that confirms the rule, Scully."

"There's always one." I push the covers away and steps out of the bed. I stretch my arms above my head. "God, I need a shower."

"Yeah, thinking about Krycek always makes me feel that way too."

I rummage in my suitcase for a clean change of clothes.

"Still, he did help me, Mulder, even if it was for the wrong reasons." I pause and catch my reflection in a small, oval, art-deco style mirror on the wall. I remember vividly how it was to look at myself back then, how it all felt - wrong.

"If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be me anymore."

In the mirror I see Mulder come behind me. He wraps his hands around my waist and his lips brush the side of my neck.

"Tell you what, next time we see him, I'll give him a big fruit basket."

He doesn't get it.

And that's all right.

I don't really want him to.

***

11 am

"Kiss! Down! Stop bothering the lady!"

So much for the shower. I am backed up against the kitchen wall with two enormous paws on my shoulders. A huge black dog, big as a calf, is currently licking my face with enthusiasm, wagging a tail the width of a small python.

An equally enormous hand pulls on Kiss' collar and gets him off of me.

"Sorry about that, Miss. He's such a big softy."

I grab a paper towel from the kitchen counter and wipe my face. "You must be Moses Stanley."

The giant smiles at me and extends his hand.

"And you must be Dana Scully. Pleased to meet you."

Ow! Firm, handshake, no doubt about that.

I stare at the tall blond man and Viking movies cliches invade my mind. I can almost picture him with a horned helmet, wielding an axe and quaffing mead. Skinner would indeed look like a waif next to him, so would most of the pro wrestling team. Hulk Hogan, eat your heart out.

But the blue eyes staring at me are kind and warm and shine with intelligence. This is no dumb brute.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" He asks while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Not yet."

"Join me then."

He hands me a box of cereals, gets two bowls and some milk. We both sit at the kitchen table, while Kiss, a Great Dane if I'm not mistaken, curls at his feet and put his head on his paws, sighing deeply and looking at me with that soulful expression only dogs can manage.

"That's one big dog, you have here."

Moses smiles around a mouthful of cereals and shrugs. "I would look stupid with a Chihuahua."

"I guess." I take a sip of my coffee, "Kiss, weird name for a dog." I add.

"It's short for Kissinger."

"I see."

He takes a sip of coffee and his eyes become serious.

"We thought you were dead."

"So your wife told us."

"Rough journey?"

I shiver, the lurches of the car as we rolled over bodies still resonating in my bones.

"Pretty rough."

The man nods in understanding. "I drove into town last night, so many dead people, it feels like the end of the world."

"It sure does."

"Do you have any idea what is happening? Where do those bees come from?"

"I gather you haven't talked to my partner yet?"

"Mulder? No, we just shook hands, I was busy stocking up the freezer, I hope you like rabbit."

I hate rabbit. But I guess at this point I can't afford being fussy. Food is food.

"Rabbit's fine. Anyway, if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

Moses takes a sip of his coffee and scratches at his short blond beard.

"Try me."

So I tell him. About the hives and the cornfields and the virus. About what I witnessed of the symptoms and my suspicion that the bees are only the initial carrier of a plague so contagious that it can wipe an entire population within hours.

The big man slaps one heavy hand on the table."But why? Who would do something like this? For what purpose? I mean I wouldn't put it past our governement to unleash something like this in the Middle East or elsewhere, but from what we heard before the black-out began this is on a global scale!"

"Do you believe in the existence of extra-terrestrials, Mr Stanley?" A familiar voice asks behind my back.

I look over my shoulder to see my freshly showered partner standing in the doorway. He winks at me.

Ah, Mulder and his favorite pick-up line.

Kiss lifts his head and watches my partner grab a chair and sit down beside me, before loosing interest and going back to sleep.

Moses blinks at Mulder. "Can't say that I do."

Good, a fellow Skeptic. I like him already.

Mulder folds his hand over the table and shrugs. "Well, that's too bad, because they believe in you, or rather, they believe in us - being dead."

Our host frowns. "You're kidding right?"

Well, that's my cue. I lean slightly towards my partner, whispers "Good luck" in his ear and stand up to leave.

Mulder pouts at me. "Scully!"

"I know the story, Mulder. I don't need to hear it again."

Been there, done that, got the implants.

I leave the kitchen and make my way upstairs. My feet turn to lead as I near Faye's bedroom's door.

I take a deep breath and knock. "Faye?"

A weak voice answers me. "Yes."

I open the door and am shocked by what I see. Faye is lying in her bed and the face she's turning towards me is red and blistered like a burnt victim.

I rush by her side. "Oh, my God, Faye, what is happening to you?"

Her fevered eyes meet mine."I'm shedding."

I lift the sheet covering her and she winces.

"Sorry."

"It's ok." She murmurs.

Her entire body is in the same state as her face. I carefully lower the sheet and look up. "Faye, they look like radiation burns!"

"I know. It does look that way."

"Are you telling me, this is normal?"

"I don't know, it's never been this bad before."

"Are you in pain?"

She blinks slowly and nods.

I race out of the room, yell Mulder's name from the top of the stairs, grab the med-kit in our room and return to my daughter's side.

My hand is closing on a vial of morphine when Mulder rushes in out of breath.

"What's happening?" He gasps.

My panic distillates into anger. "*Mild* fever, Mulder?" I lash out.

"Wha..." His eyes go wide at the sight of the hypodermic I'm now holding, then his gaze settle on Faye and I think for a moment he's going to pass out, as all the color drains from his face.

"Fuck."

Well, that sums it up nicely.

I inject morphine into my daughter's angry red arm as delicately as I can, as Mulder hovers by the foot of the bed, *that face* in full bloom.

A knock on the open door make us both start.

"Is everything ok?" Moses and his wife are crowding the doorway, both looking at us with concern.

"Faye is sick." I see their eyes widen in fear and I hurry to ad, "no, no, not this kind of sick, not the plague, it's something else."

They crane their necks to look at Faye but remain where they are, still not convinced.

"What's wrong with her?" Mozes asks.

"I wish I knew."

Faye closes her eyes and whispers, "I'll be fine," before drifting off into sleep.

I stand up and rub my neck wearily, the hypodermic still in my hand.

Mulder comes by my side and lay a comforting hand on my shoulder. "There is still so much we don't know about her."

Fear weaves heavy knots around my plexus.

"Her eyes, Mulder..."

"I know. I've noticed."

A stage cough interupts our conversation. We both turn our heads towards Moses and his wife. "Guys, I know it's not the best time, but it's gonna be twelve in a few minutes, if you want to speak with Skinner, we'd better hurry."

I wave at my partner, "you go, Mulder, I'll stay with her."

He nods briefly. "I'll be quick."

The door closes behind me and I drag a chair by Faye's bedside. I sit and stare at her face.

For a long time I think about my daughter's feverish eyes.

I keep thinking about their color.

I know that particular shade of green.

I've seen it many times.

I've seen it on the sole of my shoes, I've seen it down a little girl's neck.

And I know one thing.

Nothing human has eyes like these.

++++

12 am

"Moses? Where the hell are we?"

"Our study."

"*That's* your study?"

"Uh-uh. It's a bomb shelter."

"For the entire Montana state?"

"It could be."

The room I'm standing in is the size of a military warehouse, filled with various crates, steel cabinets, computers and electronical equipments. I sure as hell wasn't expecting this when my host took me down to his cellar. By the look of the guy, I was expecting dusty shelves filled with hunting and fishing gear, not the NASA Research Center. Frohicke would have multiple orgasms just by looking at all this stuff.

Moses sits at a desk in front of an open laptop while his wife smiles broadly at me. "Never judge a book by its cover, Mr Mulder."

I open my mouth, to ask the dozen questions burning my lips, but the tall man raises a warning hand.

"Later, we need to take care of this first."

His laptop is somehow connected to a morse device that translates the impulses into words and vice-versa.

A message is already blinking on the screen.

[M, where the hell are you?"]

My host types the following message: [The Package arrived safely.]

"We're the package?"

"Yep." Moses keeps on typing: [ What's up? ]

After a short delay, punctuated by the clicks of the device, Skinner's answer appears: [ Situation getting worse. Plan E.]

"What's plan E?"

"It means, we're going to have visitors."

"Skinner is coming here?"

Moses casts me a brief glance. "He's gonna try."

"Can I talk to him?"

The man moves his chair sideways, "be my guest, but be quick, we're trying to keep communications to a minimum."

I grab a nearby chair, think for a few seconds and starts typing: [ Big Package here, worried about lost luggage.]

"Could you be any more cryptic?" Moses smirks in his beard.

The answer appears on the screen: [ 3 got S - all fine ]

I sigh in relief, some good news at last. The Gunmen have Mrs Scully with them, that or they got Syphillis, but I doubt that would be an information Skinner would deem worth sharing.

I let Moses and his wife end the conversation with a couple more requests and make my way back to the house.

***

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How is she?"

"Still asleep."

My partner looks at me over her shoulder as I step in the room.

"I talked to Skinner, he's coming here."

Her tired eyes lit up at the news and she stands up to face me. "Really?"

"Yeah, and the Gunmen are looking after your mother, they're all fine."

She lifts a hand to her mouth, as she breathes out, "oh, thank God!"

I enfold her in my arms and kiss the top of her head.

"We're gonna need more rabbits."

Scully chuckles thickly against my chest. "Great."

***

3 pm

"Are you sure you two don't want any lunch?"

I lift my eyes from the old dog-eared copy of 'Brave New World' I found on one of the shelves in Faye's bedroom and look at Mozes standing in the doorway, a kitchen cloth thrown over her shoulder.

"No, thanks. Maybe later."

The woman enters the room and walks towards the bed where Faye is still sleeping. So is Scully for that matter, curled up in an armchair by the window.

"How is she doing?" Mozes asks, nodding towards the young clone.

I shrug. "It's hard to say."

"So you're absolutely sure, it's got nothing to do with the plague?"

"Positive. The plague damages the lungs, not the skin."

Her green eyes scan mine slowly. "Hmm. Look, I'm going to ask you a question and I want a straight answer."

I put the book back on the shelves and dig my hands into my jeans' pocket. "Shoot."

"What did you mean earlier by 'there's still so much we don't know about her?'"

"Ah, you heard that did you?"

"Afraid so. Was right behind you."

"Ah."

"Well?"

"We haven't known Faye for very long."

The tall woman casts a sideways glance towards Scully. "You mean she doesn't know her own daughter?"

"She was raised somewhere else, we didn't even know she existed until a few months ago."

"She was adopted at birth?"

"You could say that."

"Why do I get the feeling that there's a lot more to this story, that you're not telling?"

I smirk, "because there is, but it's not my story to tell."

Mozes lifts both hands in surrender, "Fair enough." She turns to stare pensively at the two sleeping Scullys. "They look more like siblings than mother and daughter."

Yeah, like two peas in a fucking pod.

Seeing my reluctance to pursue the subject, Mozes tactfully leaves me alone with my gloomy thoughts.

I pick up Brave New World again...

***

6pm

"I have to go."

I am alone in the room when Faye wakes up. At some point Scully and I agreed to take shifts and my little Snow White managed to extract herself from her armchair - grumbling at the pins and needles in her limbs - and went to resume her Fairy Princess' sleeping patterns in the comfort of her bed. She still sleeps an awful lot, but I am determined not to worry too much about that. We humans spend the first few years of our lives sleeping, and from what I understand this Treatment thing was like going through some kind of rebirth... and not the easy Lamaze friendly, warm pool of water type. So I'm cutting her some slack - for now.

Faye's voice makes me jump and I drop my book to rush by her side. She's trying to sit up in her bed, still looking awfully burnt and feverish.

"Hey, hey, easy, Peanut!"

She pierces me with her stare; eyes so green they seem to be glowing.

"I have to go." She repeats stubbornly.

"Oh no, you don't."

I reach out for her shoulder when suddenly, her hand shoots up and closes on my throat like a claw. Her strength is phenomenal.

The last thing I hear before I pass out is that husky voice saying once more: "I have to go."

***

"Mulder!!!"

I wake up spitting and coughing. Scully is in my field of vision, concern etched on her face and I hear a woman's voice cursing, as well as the sound of a window being slammed shut precipitedly.

"Did any bees get in?" That's Moses' voice.

"Mulder are you ok? What the hell happened?"

I nod and bring a hand to my throat. Ow, Faye did quite a number on it, I'm not sure I can speak.

I try though: "she said she had to go." Great, I'm the Hoarse Whisperer.

"Go where?"

I'm about to confess my ignorance when something on the curtain catches my eyes. And although I'm still dizzy and slightly nauseous, panic makes me jump to my feet, grab Scully's hand and shout as best as I can in my damaged voice: "Everybody out! Now!"

The four of us rush out of the room and Moses slam the door shut behind us.

His wife turns towards me. "Did you see anything?"

"On the curtain." I manage painfully.

Moses paces the hall like a bear with a splinter in his paw. "So let me get this straight, her very sick daughter tried to strangle you, jumped through our first floor window and then ran out, in broad daylight, just like that?"

I shrug. "Yeah."

Scully catches my arm, "Let me have a look at your throat."

I bat her hand away. "I'm fine. I need to go and find her."

Both our hosts shout as one: "are you nuts?"

"You wouldn't have a Hazmat suit handy, would you?"

"Mulder..."

I have no time for this, I swivel to face my partner.

"NO, Scully, I will not listen to reason so you might as well give up now. She was under my care and I let her go. Ergo, *I* go and find her! End of discussion."

She gapes at me for a few seconds, her pale blue eyes locking with mine. Go ahead Scully, argue with me, you already know how it's gonna end.

She does, which is why she finally nods and says: "OK, *we*'ll go and find her."

"Fine."

"Fine."

***

"There's no other choice."

"Right."

"Sculleeee..."

In our bedroom I'm removing the wetsuit from the box that Moses dug up for me.

"Typical." The heat of her glare could melt glass at 10 feet.

I start to take my clothes off, not really feeling comfortable undressing when she's looking at me like that. Right now I'm thinking chain mail, full body armor and a helmet. Maybe a moat. Filled with bulimic piranhas.

"One wetsuit, Scully."

"Right."

"That fits *me*"

"I could use plastic bags again."

"No time." I struggle inside the black neopren suit.

"Right."

I pull the hood up and rummage in the box until I find a mask. I'm already sweating like a pig. "Will you stop saying that?"

"Right."

"I'm sure there's a flipper in that box I can hurt you with" I say as I slip Mozes' Biker balaclava over my head. "For the last time: I am *not* ditching you."

"She's my daughter, Mulder."

"I thought she was just a clone."

I know that wasn't the right thing to say the moment I say it. Scully goes very still, but her eyes, oh, her eyes sizzle brighter than potassium nitrate. The first time I saw that expression on her face, she was surrounded by Orchids. It's the look she usually reserves for the lowlifes, the Smoking Men, the Victor Klempers of the world.

The Judas.

Me.

I drop the mask on the bed and take a tentative step towards her. "Look, I'm s..."

She steps away from me.

"Go."

"I..."

"Just. Go."

I sigh and grab the mask again before heading outside. As I close the door behind me, I hear her mutter:

"that's what you do best."

Ok, I deserved that.

***

I think I'm lost.

The sun is beginning to set and still no sign of Faye.

I followed her track into the forest; it was easy at first, her footprints were clearly defined in the soft mud of the path, but as I made my way deeper into the woods, the vegetation made things increasingly difficult. Now it's been at least an hour since the last print and I'm not sure I'm heading in the right direction anymore. I did take a torch with me but I know that my chances of finding her in the dark are going to be quite slim.

On the upside, I'm going to be able to remove that damn mask very soon. As I walked, I learnt something new about myself.

I *really* don't have a Gimp fetish.

I only spotted a handful of bees, which did not seem particularly agressive. Mozes was right, there are less of them as there used too. They must have served their purpose as carriers, I guess.

I did find a couple of bloated corpses in the forest. Both males, judging by their clothing and average size although I chose not to take a closer look and gave them a wide berth. Their stench followed me for a long time, oozing poison in my head - triggering apocalyptic tableaux - the streets of Washington, New York, Beijing, Calcutta littered with rotting corpses - the world turning into an open graveyard - millions of grinning skulls, shreds of crimson flesh still clinging like wet rags, staring with their dark, empty sockets at the skies above - waiting - waiting for the clouds to boil and open on the gleaming metal of a Mothership.

And the skulls cry tears of black oil.

One Ship to rule them all.

And in the darkness bind them.

Tolkien sucks.

<................................>

What the hell was THAT?

For a fraction of a second there's a flash of intense white light a couple of miles ahead, on my left. An eerie silence follows as if sound itself has just turned to ashes.

I snatch the mask and balaclava off my face and start running, it's almost dark now anyway.

I just hope this has something to do with Faye.

And not that God - Hobbit Lover - just tried to smite me, and missed.

Because that would be too weird.

Even for me.

I arrive out of breath in a large clearing and stop dead on my tracks. Everything here is burnt to a crisp and the ground is covered with a thick layer of black soot. On the edge of the clearing charred trees are still burning.

And in the middle of all this, lying naked on her side - new, flawless skin glowing like ivory on black velvet - is Faye.

I step forward and she doesn't move. I kneel by her side and something cracks under me.

Around her, the ground has turned to glass.

But she's alive.

And as I lift her unconscious body in my arms, I know.

I know what she is.

***

11 pm

I arrive at the Stanley's house in a daze and stand by the gate until our hosts and Scully come running towards us. Moses speaks to me but his words don't make sense. I watch as his wife lays a hand on his arm and shakes her head, effectively shutting him up. Scully doesn't say anything but follows me as I climb up the stairs. I lay Faye on our bed and cover her with sheets. I peel off my wetsuit and collapse in an armchair. I close my eyes.

Minutes or hours later I feel a cool damp cloth on my brow. I open my eyes.

Scully is looking down at me, eyes full of concern and questions, but I still don't feel like talking.

I remove the cloth from my forehead and catch her waist, drawing her to me. I bury my face in her neck and breathe in her smell.

It's not enough.

I grab a fistful of her hair, pull her head back and swallow her surprised gasp with a searing kiss.

I invade her mouth with my tongue and slip my hands under her green shirt to caress her spine.

It's not enough.

My fingers venture under the loose waistband of her jeans and cup her tight little ass.

Scully moans in my mouth and breaks the kiss.

"Mulder..." she breathes raggedly and glances sideways towards the bed where Faye is lying, still dead to the world.

Yeah, I know. Bad place, bad timing.

I sigh and remove my hands.

Scully stays curled up on my lap, her cheek hot against my chest. I let my head fall back until it connects with the headrest. And I finally speak.

"She's not just a clone."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

Scully lifts her head to frown at me.

"I know what she is, Scully."

I turn my head slowly towards the nearby bed.

"She's a weapon."

~~~~~~~~

End of Part 1