Protecting The Source

by TRE1

A murdered diplomat, a missing hard drive, and a suspect on the run, the Lone Gunmen are after the hottest story of their lives.

Title: Protecting The Source
Author: TRE
Rating: R (language and adult situations)
Classification: X, LGM
Spoilers: Post TINH
Archive: Gossamer or ask
Feedback: frohicke@swbell.net
Website: http://www.geocities.com/trethephile/
Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately they belong to the careless folks at FOX.
Summary: A murdered diplomat, a missing hard drive, and a suspect on the
run. The Lone Gunmen are after the hottest story of their lives.

Thanks: To Kel, who took me for my first subway ride and patiently listens
to all the stories that never get written. Melissa, who let me steal her
look and her name and got me drunk on my birthday. And to bugs who stayed up
all night, across many time zones to beta for me.


XXX

Protecting The Source
XXX

April 6, 2001

As Mel Kempka entered the DC Diner, the air conditioning was a welcome
relief. Washington was going through an early heat wave and she had not
dressed for it. Everyone in the Capital was tired of the unseasonable
weather.

Mel sat at the counter and grabbed a menu. The plastic was worn and she
squinted behind her black-rimmed glasses to read the selections. Finally,
pushing back a lock of dark hair, Mel gave her decision to the waitress.

The waitress, snapping her nicotine gum for all she was worth, sloppily
scribbled down Mel's order.

She cupped her chin in her hand, watching the small television on a shelf in
the corner. The twelve o'clock news was starting, another daily round of
indictments, shootings, and traffic accidents. Mel hoped the weather would
come on soon. She wanted to know what to wear tomorrow. This kind of heat in
April was ridiculous.

Her mild-weather daydreaming was diverted at the sound of the voice from the
patron next to her.

"Turn it up, Joan," the man called.

The sample case by his feet identified him as a salesman, Mel thought idly,
but his rumpled, off-the-rack suit suggested that he wasn't very successful.

Joan obliged, giving the volume three quick jabs of her middle finger. "FBI
Agent Arrested for Espionage," the newsflash read.


Interested, Mel squinted at the TV and then gasped.

A small picture of the agent in question was displayed next to the face of
the anchorwoman as she continued. "We have learned that the arrest of
Special Agent Gordon Camby, of the FBI, was directly related to his alleged
selling of DOD secrets to an unknown foreign buyer. Our own Shane Kramer is
on the scene with more news..."

Mel stood and moved closer to the television. Her mouth opened in surprise.

Shane Kramer, dressed casually, for the heat, stood outside the Hoover
Building, microphone in hand. "Gordon Camby, a sixteen-year veteran of the
FBI was arraigned yesterday on charges of selling secrets to a buyer, a
buyer that remains undisclosed at this time. Camby alternately
failed and passed a series of polygraph tests that were recently implemented
following the shocking discovery of Robert Hanssen's alleged spy
activities. FBI officials are still reeling from Hanssen's arrest and will
not disclose at this time if Camby's and Hanssen's activities were linked."

Speechless, she stared at the news footage of Camby being led to a black
sedan by other FBI agents in their familiar navy and yellow windbreakers.

Kramer wrapped up, "Camby's wife and children have not been available for
comment."

She was jolted back to the present as the salesman banged his fist on the
counter. "Feds! Bunch of sorry, dirty cocksuckers." He stood and tossed down
a handful of bills on top of his check, then he stormed out of the diner,
still mumbling under his breath.

Mel moved back to her seat, no longer interested when the anchorwoman
finally gave over to the weatherman.

Joan wasn't interested either, as she the volume back down and set Mel's
sandwich beside her untouched coffee.

Mel looked away from her lunch, no longer hungry. A jumble of thoughts and
scenarios were racing through her brain. Gordon
Camby was in most of them, kissing a woman, a woman who most certainly was
not his wife.

Joan appeared in her line of vision, startling her. "Everything all right?"
the waitress asked.

"Yes, fine." Mel grabbed a sweetener packet to dump in her coffee.

Joan nodded and began to clean up the salesman's plate and empty cup.

Mel glanced over. The salesman's newspaper was on the counter next to her
and the headline grabbed her attention. "Octium IV Chip Invades
Privacy." She tilted her head to the side as she slid the paper closer. It
was a story about a computer chip, the Octium IV, that could potentially
invade a person's privacy through their computer, taking and storing social
security and credit card numbers. She slipped the paper into her bag.

The story had interested her. The publishers appeared to present the truth
without accusing the company of subterfuge. She liked that.

Finally, she picked up the sandwich and began to eat mechanically.

XXXXX

"Lone Gunman."

Mel was slightly taken aback. The voice seemed brusque and sarcastic, and it
made her even more nervous.

"I need to speak with one of your writers," she stammered.

She was taking a huge risk. She wanted someone to applaud her courage, tell
her she was doing the right thing, and to hold her hand. The man
on the phone sounded jaded and not at all nice.

"You're talking to him," the voice snapped. Then she heard the sound of a
hand over the mouthpiece and some muffled noises as if someone
was talking in the background.

She almost hung up, but then continued hesitantly. "I have information. Can
you meet me somewhere?"

The man sighed. "Tell me what you've got, give me an some idea and then
we'll meet."

Mel bit her lip and she pressed her fingertip down on the page of their
newspaper, The Lone Gunman. "Camby's been having an affair with
my supervisor."

She could hear the man sit up and take notice. "Gordon Camby from today's
news?"

"Meet me at the Landover Mall at four-fifteen, um, I'll be in front of the
Ten Dollar Store. I'm wearing a black suit."

"You're kidding." The man's voice became amused. "Never done the cloak and
dagger routine before, have you?"

"Just be there." She hung up the phone.

Langly spun away from the desk, slamming down the receiver. "Did you get
that?"

"Got it." Frohike pulled of his headset. "Is this chick for real?"

"Won't know until I get there." Langly began rummaging for his jacket, until
he remembered the heat wave and tossed it in the general
direction of the sofa.

"We're going with you," Byers said as he shrugged into his suit jacket. Heat
waves didn't upset his personal dress code.

"The mall," Frohike mused as he pulled on his fingerless gloves, "teenage
girls, navel rings, I'm there." He grabbed the keys to the van and they were
off. Landover was not a long drive from Tacoma Park, but they were always
suspicious enough to scope out the meeting place long before a meeting would
happen.

XXXXXX

Mel waited, nervous, chewing on her thumbnail. It was a habit recently
acquired and she despised it, but it gave her some small comfort. She
stood awkwardly in front of the Ten Dollar Store, feeling overdressed in her
suit and black boots. The other patrons were housewives looking for a
bargain, and they weren't wearing Kenneth Cole.

She was startled when a man with black-rimmed glasses and long blond hair
stopped in front of her and said, "Boo!"

Mel stepped back. "Excuse me?"

He moved past her and entered the store. She followed.

"You know who I am. Tell me what I need to know now, before I get edgy and
leave." He appeared nonchalant, but his body was tense and
Mel decided there was more to him than his Ramones t-shirt and ragged jeans.

He chose a vacant aisle and she walked beside him.

She reached for a hideous clay vase, flipping it over to inspect the price
tag beneath. "I work for the Belgian Embassy. I have a supervisor,
Gabrielle Minot. She's the Special Administrator for Andre Lariat, the
ambassador."

"You guys have lots of problems with Belgian nationals?" He turned his back
to her as he inspected a fifty-piece ratchet set.

"We help out the French and Luxembourg embassies, too." Mel put down the
vase. "Gabrielle, she's been having an affair with Gordon Camby
for almost a year."

Langly moved down the aisle and pushed at some faux silk flowers with his
sneaker. "How do you know this?"

Mel stepped after him. "I'm her assistant. I know all her business, even the
parts she tries to keep secret. I didn't like her affair, but it was none of
my business. "

"And now?"

He almost knocked over a display of sunflowers, quickly righting it.

"Now I know that her lover is a spy and a traitor."

"And you're a patriot," he said cynically. "Tell you what. Continue to
observe, and I'll get back to you in a few days. Maybe when you have
something more than speculation."

Mel shook her head.

"You don't understand. This morning she asked me to book her a flight to New
York, and the next day she's flying to Paris."

"So what?" Langly asked impatiently. "And you never really told me how you
knew about the affair."

"I saw them, okay?" Mel turned to face him. "I followed her on my lunch hour
one day and she met with him. They have an apartment near
Dupont Circle. They meet there at least twice a week."

"Nooners," Langly snorted.

"And now she's leaving the country and I'm sure she won't be back," Mel
said.

"She's a diplomat," Langly said. "This can't be the first time she's gone
abroad." Langly steered her out of the store and into the main area of the
mall. They walked past Waldenbooks and Footlocker.

"She hasn't left the country in the four years I've worked for her," Mel
said.

Langly stopped her in front of the fountain. "I can't use an eyewitness
account. I need proof. Do you have anything like that? Photos, videotape,
anything?"

"No," Mel replied. A short man came to stand near the blond man, as did a
man in a dark suit. She watched them nervously.

"We need physical proof, and if she's leaving the country, we're not going
to get it."

"There is a way," Mel said. "I have the key to their apartment."

Her contact finally smiled. "I'm Langly." Indicating to the suited man, he
said, "This is Byers." He jerked his thumb at the shorter man, who nodded.
"And this ugly mug is Frohike. "We are the writers and publishers of The
Lone Gunmen."

Mel tried to smile. They were a ludicrous group.

XXX

They had agreed to meet at nine o'clock. The night was dark and humid, a
thunderstorm was building in the west, and Mel was more keyed
up than ever. She had a tendency to react to weather and this had been the
weirdest year ever. Just last month they'd had an unbelievable
snowstorm, the largest in years.

She'd changed out of her suit into more comfortable but equally dark
clothes. She was forever annoyed with the way she looked, especially
having to work with a beautiful woman like Gabrielle. Mel hated makeup and
wasn't fond of standing in front of a mirror for longer than it took to
brush her teeth and comb her short black hair. Gabrielle was the ultimate
sophisticate, with a model's looks and an incredible flair for fashion.

A noise startled her, and she looked up and down the street, but no one was
there. She sighed in annoyance and looked at her watch again.

"You're being obvious." Langly's voice was right in her ear and she jumped.

"Dammit," she cried, whirling to face him. He was wearing a headset, of all
things. He looked like a telemarketer.

His smile disappeared and he handed her a pair of latex gloves. "Let's go."

Minot's apartment was in the rear of the two-story building. It had been
chosen for privacy and it showed; a nice selection of shrubbery hid the door
from view.

Mel fitted the key into the lock with trembling hands. She'd lured the
Newspapermen to the apartment under false pretenses and if her suspicions
proved correct, she'd have to contact the police before Gabrielle left New
York. Mel just hoped they would find something, anything, to lay her fears
to rest. She truly did not want to find that Gabrielle was involved with
Camby for more than an affair.

"You're sure you can get into her computer?" Mel whispered as they entered
the darkened apartment. Neither of them reached for the lights, but Langly
turned on the flashlight he'd brought.

"You'll see."

She led the way, the apartment's interior eerie in the slicing beam from the
Maglite. The furniture was expensive and chosen for its clean lines and
simple colors. Only when they entered the bedroom and the tile gave way to
thick lavender carpeting did the furnishings get dark and bulky. An
expensive gold and purple silk comforter lay across the large bed.

"Hmmm, understated," Langly replied. His voice was loud in the stillness.

An armoire stood against one wall. Mel crossed and opened the doors, and it
quickly transformed into a hidden computer desk.

He dragged a chair over to the console and assessed the system, noting the
processor was probably a Pentium II. He spotted the removable IDE drive and
booted up the computer, his latex-covered fingers tapping impatiently at the
keyboard. "Byers, you there? I'm gonna start 'er up."

"I'm here," Byers voice came over the headset.

As Mel watched, the computer whined as it began to boot up. "How will you
get past her password?" she asked, as the cursor appeared and
blinked lazily on the blinding screen, the username "Minot" waiting for its
password.

"This is Windows," Langly remarked and hit the enter key with a snap of his
pinky.

The computer began to start Windows 98 and Mel was surprised. "You didn't
need it?"

"No," he replied. "Byers, I may not even need you. I'm going online. Minot's
password is already stored, can you believe this?"

Byers's small laugh was heard somewhere in the background of the headset.
Frohike's voice sounded, "Like candy from a baby."

"I'm in," Langly replied and he began searching through Gabrielle's email.
He was more than a bit disappointed that he wasn't getting to show off his
hacking skills in front of Mel.

"Shit, there's only one thing on here." He leaned toward the monitor. "It's
an encrypted file. I'm gonna move it to the disc."

He pulled out a CD-ROM disc and set it inside the tray. It disappeared
inside the CPU and a soft whirring sound was issued. Mel began to chew her
thumbnail again.

Langly turned to Mel. "I thought you said they had correspondence, like love
letters."

"I said she had a computer and there may be something from him there." Mel
nodded at the computer. "How long will this take?"

Langly waved his hand and leaned the straight-back chair on two legs. "Not
long. Why don't you tell me why you want to screw your boss
over?"

"Are you talking to your friends? Where are they?" She answered his question
with a question and paced nervously around the room, inspecting a bold
painting above the bed.

"You're not answering me." Langly almost fell over in the chair and quickly
straightened. The computer made a soft noise and the download was
complete.

"Take the disc," he said to Mel, handing her a CD case. She flipped it over
and read the cover. "Radiohead," she murmured, and picked up the disc
delicately with her gloved fingers. She closed the case.

"Let me see if I can find some recently deleted files." Langly switched to
MS-DOS and began doing search after search. Mel watched him,
fascinated by his rapid keystrokes and intense concentration.

"You're not just some rag newspaper reporter," she observed, coming around
the armoire to face him. She could only see the reflection of the monitor in
his glasses.

"No, I'm not, I'm--" Static burst through his headset, and Frohike was
yelling, "We got company! Get out of there!"

Langly instantly began shutting down programs. "How long?"

"No time! No time! Ask girlie there if our target is tall, blonde, and
drop-dead gorgeous." Frohike was excited, and Langly could hear him moving
around in the van.

Langly shut down the computer and depressed the power button on the monitor.
"Get us out of here! Where is she?"

Mel stepped forward, grasping the CD case. "What's going on?"

"Too late, hide! Pronto!" Frohike yelled into the headset.

Langly stood quickly and assessed the room, swinging the chair back into its
original position. He looked frantically for a hiding place. "Here." He
opened the closet, with narrow wooden slatted doors, burrowed himself into
the clothes, and beckoned Mel to step in with him.

"What's going on?" she asked again, standing her ground. Langly heard the
key in the lock and reached for her wrist.

"Come here," he called softly. Mel heard the front door open and allowed
herself to be yanked into the closet.

"Radio silence," Langly whispered urgently into the mike, swinging the
wooden door closed just as Gabrielle entered the bedroom.

She did not turn the lights on, leaving the room in darkness except for the
soft light filtered from outside. Langly could see through the slats as
Gabrielle crossed the room lazily, kicking off her heels and unbuttoning her
blouse.

Gabrielle stepped out of the room for a minute and Langly took a moment to
breathe. Mel was pressed awkwardly against his chest. She squirmed slightly
and he pressed his hand against her hip, stilling her instantly.

Minot walked back into the room. She had shed her clothing except for her
lacy underwear, which she began to remove. He couldn't tear his eyes away,
especially as he could feel Mel's breath against his throat. He jumped when
three loud knocks sounded on the front door. Gabrielle
laughed softly and slipped her heels back on, leaving the room in only her
panties and shoes.

Langly and Mel froze even more as Gabrielle greeted a man and they came into
the bedroom together. "You're late, Pike," she murmured, striding over to
turn on a small lamp. The lamp created more shadows, giving Langly an uneven
view.

"Yeah, looks like you started without me," the man replied, catching
Gabrielle around the waist and sliding his hand into the back of her
panties. He was dressed all in black with a worn leather jacket. In the low
light, Langly couldn't make out his features, but he had long tangled brown
hair that Gabrielle's small hands pushed aside as they met in a long wet
kiss.

Pike's hand crept lower into Gabrielle's panties and she gasped into his
mouth. "You have started without me," he said against her neck.

Her hands were busy unfastening his pants. Gabrielle continued to kiss him.
Then her mouth fell lower and she pressed her sharp teeth into the soft
flesh of his neck. "Enough," he said, pushing her against the wall next to
the closet, but out of view. There was the sound of ripping fabric and then
a sharp thud as Gabrielle's body was lifted and pushed into the wall.

They made no sound, Langly noted, but the Sheetrock and joints in the wall
told their own story. Her body was thumped harder and harder against the
wall.

"What's going on?" Frohike's voice was suddenly loud in the silence and
Langly had to take care not to jump. "Is that what I think it is?" Then
Byers' voice: "Shut up, Frohike, radio silence," and the headset was quiet
once again.

Mel, so close to Langly, could hear the exchange and she pressed her
fingertips against Langly's belly. It was almost his undoing. His breath
quickened, and he fought to control it, biting his lip. Mel, sensing his
discomfort, moved her hands away. His breathing slowed and they waited,
listening.

"Yes." Garbrielle's voice was shuddery. "Yes, Pike."

"There, yeah," he panted and finally their bodies stilled.

"Do something about your hair." She left the room. Pike appeared again in
Langly's vision. Sweeping his hand over his head and taking his hair with
it, he tossed the wig onto the bed and switched off the lamp. Langly still
couldn't see his face as Pike turned away, but he could see his
hand remove a gun from the pocket of his jacket.

With a strange awkwardness, Pike pressed the gun into his other hand. He
removed a silencer from his pocket and forced it into nozzle
of the Glock, turning away as he fastened the screws. As Gabrielle came into
the room, the hand disappeared behind his back and Langly noted the odd way
the hand seemed to dangle, as lifeless as the gun itself. A nagging thought
scratched at his brain but was dismissed as Gabrielle approached Pike for
another kiss.

She had dressed in a silky kimono that hung open, revealing her perfect,
naked body. Pike accepted the kiss roughly before raising his hand and
turning Gabrielle away from him and shoving her down on the bed. "Wha," she
began, as Pike raised his leg and pressed his knee into the
back of her thigh.

"Don't think I like doing this," Pike's said gruffly as he switched the
Glock to his real hand. "We all know the risks, in this business."

"Dammit, Pike! Let me go." Gabrielle's body began to squirm beneath him and
he stood swiftly.

Langly watched the nightmare unfold in the shadows as Pike fired two shots
into the back of Gabrielle's head. Instantly, her body lost its fight and
she lay limp across the bed. Pike pulled her kimono back down over the back
of her legs and stroked her hair where it wasn't covered in thick, spreading
blood. "You were a good fuck, Minot." He turned away.

Langly tried not to panic. Mel was frozen next to him, her short nails
digging into his t-shirt. Frohike broke the radio silence, muttering, "Holy
shit, holy shit," over and over. They must have heard the soft darting sound
of the silencer as clearly as he had.

Pike was thorough. He swiftly pulled on a black leather glove and put away
the gun and silencer. He turned his attention for the first time to the
armoire, opening it to display the computer.

Scared to death now that Pike was after the same files that they had just
moved, Langly's body became as stiff as a board. Mel noticed the change and
remained as motionless as he was.

Pike knew better than to take time searching for the files. He pulled out a
key and slipped it into the lock on the IDE drive. The lock gave way
and the drive popped out slightly. Pike slid it all the way out and pressed
it between his body and prosthetic arm. He put the key away and retrieved a
pair of wire cutters, efficiently clipping the wires at the back of the CPU,
further disabling the computer.

He stood and turned close to the window. Langly finally saw his face in the
soft light. His profile was outlined by the light streaming through the
window. He might be called Pike this night, but Langly knew him as Alex
Krycek.

XXX

The van skidded to a stop next to them on the dark street. Langly wiped at
the sweat on his face and threw open the door, shoving Mel into the dark
interior and following her up. "Go, go," he shouted. Frohike hit the gas and
they roared off into the night.

"This is insane," Mel screamed. Her latex gloves were slick with dark red
blood. She had insisted on trying to find a pulse before leaving Gabrielle's
body alone in the dark apartment. "We have to call the police."

"No, we don't," Frohike said, his voice firm. "We need to get our shit
straight, first. You and blondie were breaking and entering, and that guy
was a professional."

Langly wanted to throw up. He sat up, snatched off the headset, and threw it
against the back of the van. "He was a professional. It was Alex Krycek."

The van swerved and Frohike righted his driving. "Are you sure?"

Langly searched the floor of the van and found a towel, which he
tossed to Mel, who was staring at her hands in shock. "I didn't get a good
look at him until he took out the IDE, but I finally saw his face." Langly
slipped off the latex gloves and pushed them into a plastic bag with his
own. "And he only had one arm." He took the towel and rubbed the remaining
blood off her hands himself.

"He fucked her against a wall with only one arm," Frohike observed, finally
slowing the van and taking a left at the light.

"Yeah, pretty good, huh?" Langly leaned forward and pulled Mel against him.
She was making a strange keening sound and he was afraid she
really was in shock.

"Unbelievable," Frohike muttered.

Byers, who was still back at the offices of The Lone Gunman, suddenly came
over Frohike's headset. "What was on that encrypted file?" His voice sounded
high pitched and as panicky as the rest of them felt. "Because surely he
killed her over it."

"Dunno," Frohike stated, "but it looks like Minot wasn't just sleeping with
Camby."

"Duh," Langly snapped.

Mel finally shook her head and scooted away from Langly. "I put it together
that she was Camby's go-between. The middleman between him and his buyer."

Langly asked, "So you didn't just think they were having nooners?"

"No," she replied. "But the only proof I had was of the affair. I needed to
get into her computer."

Langly nodded. "You're sharper than you look. We assumed she was his
middleman from the very beginning of your story."

Mel tossed Langly a sour look before turning to look out the windshield at
the darkened buildings they passed. She shivered. "I want to go home." She
didn't want to be here with these strange men.

"We gotta see what's on this disc," Frohike insisted. "Where is it?"

Langly exchanged a glance with Mel. She raised her hips off the floor and
stuck her hand down the front of her pants, sliding out the Radiohead CD
case. She tossed it to Langly and looked away.

"Frohike does that," he observed dryly as he handed the disc forward to
Frohike.

"I didn't really want it to be her, but I had to know if she was helping
Camby," Mel said softly as she lifted her hands to scrub at the leftover
dried flakes of Minot's blood.

Langly hefted himself up and moved into the front seat. He turned to Frohike
and said, "If we can break the encryption, we will have hard evidence. We
can run that story naming the middleman and the buyer too."

"Krycek wasn't the ultimate buyer," Frohike replied. "He's got a real buyer
somewhere, overseas. Remember, Mulder said he turned up in
Hong Kong."

"I remember," Byers said. "Mulder said he was selling the location of that
downed UFO."

"Mulder can be so full of shit sometimes," Langly sniffed.

Mel called from the back, "Look, you have the disc. I want to go home."

Frohike nodded. "We're almost there. Then Langly can take you home."

Mel sat back, feeling dejected.

XXX

"You mentioned that Pike's real name is Alex Krycek. Does that mean you know
him?"

Mel was curled up on the passenger side of the van and Langly was driving he
r home. It was well after midnight and the traffic was light. She watched in
sleepy silence as the overhead street lights bounced off the windshield.

Langly waited a beat before replying, "We have a friend who has tangled a
few times with Krycek. That's how I recognized him."

"I can't believe she's dead," Mel whispered, covering her face with shaking
hands.

"You can't think like that," Langly stated. "If she was selling Camby's
information, then she was as much a traitor as he is, and you were right to
let someone know about it."

"Now you're holding my hand," she said softly, thinking of their first phone
conversation. It seemed like it was days ago.

"What?"

"Nothing." Mel lowered her hands, freshly scrubbed in the untidy bathroom at
The Lone Gunmen's office. She had a sneaking suspicion that they all lived
in that warehouse together. "I suppose you'll be picked up by the AP, once
you expose Gabrielle's involvement."

"I hope so. And I hope we bought some time by not calling the police," he
remarked. "Is this your street?"

Mel glanced out the window. "Yes, third house down."

The street was full of small older homes. The neighborhood wasn't the
safest, but the house had been her mother's until her death last year.

Langly pulled to the side of the road and watched the house. It was dark and
the whole street was silent.

Mel gathered her purse. "I suppose this is it then," she said.

Langly did not turn to face her, he was distracted by a strange feeling.
"Yeah." He finally said, "Take care." Mel made a face and opened the door.

As she crossed in front of the van, Langly suddenly rolled down the window,
stuck his head out, and called, "Mel!"

"Yeah?" She paused.

"How did you get a key to that apartment, anyway?"

She turned to face him. "It was sent to me when the locks were changed.
Gabrielle had put the lease in my name."

Langly was silent for a long moment. "Did she know that you knew?"

"I don't think she cared. She walked all over me at work." Mel turned away
toward the house. "I was never considered a threat."

She made it as far as the first step on the porch, annoyed by leaves that
had collected there. Langly rushed up behind her and grasped her
arm. "Don't go in there," he said urgently, pulling her hand, forcing her to
step off the porch.

"Why, dammit, Langly, let me go!" She pushed at him, but he was stronger. He
dragged her across the yard and back to the van, talking
nonsense all the while about conspiracies and how much danger she was in.

"Will you please let me go!"

"I can't. If Minot didn't consider you a threat, that doesn't mean Krycek
won't!" He was shouting now, but he released her hand. "Krycek is not the
kind of guy to leave loose ends."

"Jesus," she shouted, "I'm not a loose end! You are so paranoi--" Her words
were cut off as Langly tackled her to the ground, just as the night rocked
with an explosion.

Fire and smoke leapt into the air as her house blew apart. She waited until
the ground stopped shaking before she pushed off the debris and
pulled away from Langly to stand incredulous at the sight of her home,
completely wracked by flames. "No," she shrieked and lunged for the house.

"No, Mel, " Langly shouted, scrambling up and racing for her. He wrapped an
arm around her waist and pulled her kicking and crying back
towards the street.

"No," she cried turning into his shoulder, hitting his chest, "no, all my
things!"

"It's okay," Langly soothed, but he was worried. This was Krycek's work and
the killer would want to confirm Mel was dead.

He grabbed her and pulled her around to the front of the van. People were
coming out of their homes, staring and pointing at the ruins. Langly could
hear sirens in the background. "We have to leave, Mel."

"No, no, no." She was still fighting him and she didn't want to get in the
van.

"We have to leave NOW," he shouted. With a great shove he pushed her up into
the van and hurled himself in behind her, his hand already wrapped around
the keys in the ignition. The van's engine roared to life and it shot down
the street past surprised neighbors, disappearing
into the night.

To say that Langly could handle a woman was a stretch; to say that he could
handle a hysterical one was driving right off a cliff.

Mel was losing it quickly. Her shoulders were shaking and she couldn't seem
to get a hold of herself. A quick pay phone call to the office and
he was sternly advised to get Mel under control. That did not include
bringing her back to the office. And no, they hadn't broken the code on the
disc.

XXX

Mel watched in silent exhaustion as Langly unlocked the door. To get inside
they had to step over a small pile of brochures with pizza and
cleaning advertisements.

"Come here often?" she wisecracked, but her voice was flat.

Langly shut and double-locked the door. "I'm always bringing chicks here."

"Here" consisted of an economy-sized apartment, with a kitchen and bath. An
unmade futon took up most of the main room. There was a space
where a computer used to sit on a desk amidst a pile of computer language
books and empty software boxes. Other vacant spaces showed
where things were missing as well, a television, stereo, and posters. A fine
layer of dust seemed to cover everything. It was as though the owner had
moved things, one piece at a time.

"See if there is anything in the fridge. I'll make up the bed with clean
sheets." Langly headed into the bathroom.

Mel moved into the small kitchen. There was nothing in the refrigerator
except a box of baking soda, what could have been celery at one time, and
four bottles of beer. She closed the door and nudged open the cabinets,
finding only a half-empty bottle of George Dickel, some mix-matched plates,
and quite a collection of oversized plastic convenience store cups. Another
cabinet revealed a bag of chocolate chips and some unappetizing can goods.

They had fled the fire, driving aimlessly down deserted streets until Langly
pulled over at a payphone where he called his friends. When he came back to
the van, he said he was taking her to his home.

She stepped around the wall. Langly was busy tossing sheets over the bed.
Mel leaned her hip against the desk and toed a pile of old newspapers, and
they slid aside to reveal a worn issue of Hustler. She quickly moved away.
"Can I take a shower?"

"Yeah," Langly mumbled and turned away to sort through some clothes on a
bookshelf that contained row after row of CD-ROM cases.

"Here." He tossed her a worn t-shirt.

Mel quickly crossed the room to the bath. It was small and cramped, but the
hot water worked. Her body was sore and her clothes were stained
with blood and smoke from the fire. She washed the stench of the smoke from
her hair. As the water beat into her scalp she began to sob in great heaving
gasps.

When she finally emerged, feeling ridiculous in a worn Pablo Honey Radiohead
t-shirt, she spotted Langly lying across the makeshift bed in the darkened
room. He did not look at her, only got up and headed for the bathroom.

When he appeared sometime later, she was still standing in the room. She
felt lost, disoriented. "You okay?" he asked, crawling onto the futon.

"No," she whispered, and she sat next to him on the bed. Amazing how strange
her life had become in only a few hours. "What am I going to do? I have no
job, no home."

Langly sat up so that the light from the blinds bounced off his glasses. He
pressed the palm of his hand between her shoulder blades. "You were only
trying to do the right thing, Mel. You're gonna make it through this. We
will help you."

Mel pulled away from his hand and lay down. "I thought you were supposed to
be paranoid."

Langly smiled in the darkness. "Didn't I tell you? I'm an optimist."

After a moment, she sighed and finally lay down, "What's your name?"

"Langly," then realizing what she meant, he replied, "Ringo, er, Richard."

"Richard." She whispered.

Langly removed his glasses and reached over to set them on the desk.

"Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"

She was surprised by the question. She hadn't been thinking and now she
realized she was lying in bed with a man she hardly knew. "No. "
It would be ridiculous to boot him out of his own bed.

"Just checking, " he said.

The thunderstorm that had threatened all night finally broke, crashing
thunder and slapping rain against the exterior of the building. They lay
awake in the darkness for a long time, not touching, not moving, listening
to the fury of the rain.

Mel made an effort not to think about her destroyed home, but rather the man
next to her. She'd put them both in danger. He had gotten them
out alive, but she still felt guilty. She started to thank him, but she
heard a soft snore and decided it could wait until morning.

When she awoke, she could smell him all around her and it made her rise up
in surprise. She looked around frantically, trying to get her bearings. The
events of the night before came back in a rush and a strangled sound escaped
her throat. At the moment she realized Langly was gone, Mel heard a key in
the lock. She bolted up and rushed to the bathroom. Paranoia, she thought
without amusement, peeking out from behind the bathroom door.

"It's me," Langly called out as he entered the apartment. The scent of food
hit her and she was suddenly ravenous.

Over a breakfast of take-out coffee and cinnamon rolls, they discussed or
rather Langly talked about, what their next move should be.

Langly dressed quickly in the other room. When he came out, Mel was standing
in the center of the room, dressed but for her blouse. Her skin glowed white
next to the black silk of her bra. He gulped. She was holding the ruined
remains of her blouse.

"I can't wear this."

He rooted through his closet, finally giving her his only white dress shirt.
It was large, but it was more appropriate than one of his t-shirts.

When they left his apartment, Langly stopped for gas and used the payphone
again to call Frohike. "You better get back here, pronto," Frohike said.
"Someone recognized her. Mel's all over the news and the media's saying she
popped Minot."

"Dammit." When he glanced over at Mel, who was sitting patiently in the car,
he noticed that the most recognizable thing about her was her
glasses. "We're on our way." He hung up and crossed to the van.

"We have a problem," he stated as he started the engine. "You need to ditch
those glasses."

"Why?"

"In fact, I'm betting you don't even need them, except to read." He steered
the car toward the highway.

"You're not answering my question." She pulled off her glasses and put them
away in her purse.

"Media's already got wind of your activities last night. In fact, they think
you're the one who put cherry pie all over Minot's bedspread."

Langly was not pleased by this latest turn of events. They had hoped to have
a little more time to break the encryption and contact the police. Harboring
a fugitive, even an innocent one, was not his idea of a good time.

"Oh God," She huddled in the seat and ducked her head down.

"Frohike says your face is all over the news, wanted woman and all that." He
sped the van up as they hit the expressway. "I would put money
down that Krycek knows you're alive, and he's the one who gave your ID."

Mel didn't say anything and Langly glanced at her with concern. It wasn't as
though she was used to this kind of running around. He was worried about how
much she could take. She'd already offered him the use of her cellular
phone. He refused to use it for obvious reasons. Everyone
knows you don't use a cell phone when the shit is hitting the fan.

He reached over and clumsily patted her arm. "It'll be okay. I told you we
take care of stuff like this all the time." Yeah right, he thought.

XXX

Fox Mulder was not having the time of his life. He hated medical leave more
than any other part of his job, except for audits.

Usually, medical leave meant staying at home, which he was loath to do.

This time, he had an open invitation at Scully's. And that was much more
fun. It's not everyday a man comes back from the dead. Scully
was full of soft, unexpected caresses and patient smiles. He still wasn't
sure if it was him or the pregnancy, but he wasn't about to ask.

When Scully was summoned for an urgent meeting with Skinner very early that
morning, he was full of questions as she dressed for work. "What
do you think it's about?"

"I told you, Mulder, I don't know." She pulled on a plus-sized white blouse
over her black maternity pants. These days it seemed as if all her clothes
were about to burst their seams.

"You think it has anything to do with that murder last night?" He rolled
over on her blue striped sheets, wearing only his boxers. "That
woman from the embassy? I bet she had diplomatic immunity. You know how much
Skinner hates that."

Mulder continued, "Do you think it's about Camby? All these years they've
been hauling our asses in front of OPR, they could have been
looking for spies."

"Uh huh." Scully was distracted, putting on her little pearl earrings. She
had to go through this question and answer routine everyday, but it
was worth it to have Mulder back.

"Remember that Japanese guy, the one I took down in Allentown? He was pissed
then."

Mulder knew she was in a hurry, but he would have been glad of a little
conversation. And it was Saturday. Scully breezed over and kissed his
forehead. "Don't forget to buy cereal," she whispered and left the room.

Mulder followed her to the door. "How can I? You ate three bowls before bed
last night," he yelled out before she closed the door. Fruity
Pebbles had been calling her name all week.

Medical leave gave him time to think, to get itchy, to want to dig. Was it
any wonder she would come home and find him leafing through old
X-Files and tabloid newspapers?

He decided to be lazy and watched America's Castles. Halfway through his
morning routine of flipping stations, he stopped at The Weather Channel. The
temperature was climbing, expected to break records. The phone rang.

"Mulder, it's me," Scully told him. "I'm heading for Quantico, Mulder.
Skinner asked me to do an autopsy on Gabrielle Minor, the woman found
murdered last night."

"The Belgian woman who was shot by a burglar," Mulder remembered. "I guess
the embassy is screaming for answers." He stood, stretched, and scratched
low on his belly.

"So the police throw it in our lap," Scully agreed. "But it's no ordinary
burglary. No sign of forced entry, and the only thing missing was the hard
drive from her computer."

"He yanked out her hard drive?" he asked. "That would be hard to do." He
took the cordless phone into the dining room, where he'd left the
newspaper lying on the table.

"Not really, she had one of those slide-out ones." He could hear the
background noise from the car. Was she listening to The Clash?
"Either way, the cables on the back of the computer were cut, rendering it
pretty much useless. Agent Doggett is checking on that end."

"Hmmm," Mulder said, sitting at Scully's dining room table and leafing
through the Post. There was a small blurb about the murder and a
picture of the suspect, a young woman with black hair and glasses. "What
about the suspect?"

"It's strange, Mulder. I examined the body in situ and I don't think a woman
killed her, at least not a woman the size of Melanie Kempka."

"You think she had help?" Mulder rested his heel on the edge of his chair
and picked some lint from between his toes. Maybe he should take
a shower and put on some clothes.

"I'm not sure. Look, I'll call you later and don't forget the cereal." She
clicked off the phone.

When he got home from the store and discovered that he had indeed forgotten
to get cereal, he shrugged it off. There were plenty of
hours in the day. His newest cell phone rang.

"Mulder," he answered, putting away a gallon of milk.

"Where were you?" It was Scully and he could tell she was driving
again.

He didn't want to mention the store. "How was the autopsy?" He balled up the
plastic bags and stuck them behind her crockpot under the
cabinet. Scully always chose paper over plastic and she'd be all over him if
she saw a pile of plastic bags in the garbage.

"I discovered some interesting evidence. Hair and fiber is running the
analysis now," she sighed into the phone.

Mulder bet her back was bothering her. She couldn't do autopsies as easily
with the pregnancy.

"Mulder, did you go to the store?" she demanded with a trace of a whine.

"Not yet," he said, looking for a place to put the orange juice. Scully had
a fully stocked refrigerator now that they were both off field duty.
"What kind of evidence?"

"Hair. I just wanted to let you know I'm on my way back to the office. Kersh
is putting the heat on Skinner to assemble a task force."

"Kersh," Mulder snorted. "How's Doggett doing on his end?"

"I'm meeting with him in an hour. Look, I may be home late." Scully sounded
tired already.

Mulder smiled into the phone and shut the refrigerator door with his foot.
"Want a backrub when you get home?"

"Ah, that sounds very nice. I'll call you later when I hear about those
fibers."

Mulder thumbed off the phone and looked around Scully's immaculate kitchen.
He really should get that cereal.

XXX

The Lone Gunmen were getting nowhere breaking into the files. Mel, her
glasses back on, was chewing her thumbnail again and looking
nervous. The guys were putting on a heck of a show, something like Penn and
Teller Meet the Flying Karamazov Brothers. They criticized and backbit their
way through the morning, tossing ideas off each other and hoping something
would come out of it.

Mel spent a lot of time flipping the television remote, watching for the
newscasts. Shane Kramer, the newsman she'd watched yesterday,
noted the suspicious nature of the fire and speculated that Mel had tried to
fake her own death.

She tuned back into the guys. They were talking about calling someone named
Kimmy to help break the code. "No," she said loudly,
startling them. It was as though they'd forgotten her presence. "No," she
said loudly, startling them, "I'm not..."

"It's not for you to say--" Langly began, but Mel lunged up at him.

"Look what's happened here! Gabrielle is dead, my house is gone, and I'm
wanted for murder! That disc is my life! How dare you tell me
it's not for me to say!" Mel shrieked, jabbing her finger at each man.

"Hey, sweets," Frohike began, but he was interrupted by a loud pounding on
the door.

All of them shut up instantly, looking around like startled rodents. Frohike
moved to the door and uttered a noncommittal, "Who is it?"

"It's Mulder, open up," the friendly voice shouted from behind the thick
metal door.

"Shit," Langly mumbled and he grabbed Mel by the wrist, pulling her to the
rear of the office.

"Who is it?" she hissed trying to dislodge his grip. "Is it that guy you
were talking about last night?"

Langly pushed her into one of the other rooms, the one he liked to crash in
because of the couch. "Trust me, you don't want this guy involved."

He closed the door behind him, effectively cutting off her questions, and
entered the fray.

Mulder was looking from one crafty face to another. He was angry and trying
not to let it show. Scully had described the van and while she
had not put the two together he had known instantly that the Gunmen were
involved. Their risky behavior was typical and it wasn't the only reason he
was upset. Scully had given him other news.

"So, how are things?" He asked casually and ran a finger along the edge of a
metal table giving Frohike the eye.

Frohike didn't budge an inch. "We're kind of busy right now. Did you need
something?"

Mulder smiled lazily. "You know, maybe I just came to hang out."

Byers stood stiffly beside Frohike. "Then by all means, hang." He gestured
with his hand and turned back to his PC, but he did not type.

The phone rang, distracting them all, and Langly picked up while Frohike
flipped the switch to record the call. Mulder just stood to the side,
leaning on the stainless steel table and watching Byers carefully. "Scully
had some interesting news for me today," he said.

Byers did not take the bait. He moved away, pretending to look for a
something in the maze of electrical junk they had shelved all around them.

Frohike watched Mulder watch Byers. "So, what did she find?" he questioned,
lured by anything Scully related.

"Oh, well, Skinner's got her working this case-" He moved forward, his
attention now focused on Frohike. "The dead Belgian. There was an
eyewitness when the suspect fled the crime scene. We got a pretty good
description of the vehicle the perp was driving, or not driving, so to
speak. Just wanted to make sure you boys were all okay." While Mulder
talked, they could hear Langly still trying, unsuccessfully, to get off the
phone.

"Really," Frohike asked, sounding bored. He was installing a new video card
with a great show of concentration and interest. "I saw some of that on the
news, didn't know about a witness."

"Oh, yeah, some old lady peeping out her window." Mulder's voice trailed off
as he noticed a movement among the Gunmen's racks of electronic gizmos. He
looked to Byers, trying to catch his eye, but the man was suddenly
fascinated by his keyboard.

"Scully said the perp stole a hard drive out of the Belgian's computer...."
Mulder walked over to the maze of shelving, trying to look
casual. "Uh, yeah, hard drive was missing... cables were cut...."

Mulder was picking up the pace, moving purposefully down the aisle.

"Mulder!" Frohike called. "Have you seen these nude shots of Lucy Lawless?"

"Hold it! Stop right there! Freeze, FBI!"

Mulder grabbed at his SIG with one hand, pushing aside loops of black
electrical cable with the other, as he tried to negotiate the cluttered
aisle. The Lone Gunmen were chasing him, running toward the back of the
warehouse, tripping over and pushing aside equipment to reach
Mulder.

When he slammed into the other room, his shouts were enough to terrify Mel.
He shoved her into the wall and raised his SIG against her head. She barely
noticed that he had his forearm up against her throat.

"Goddammit, Mulder," Frohike yelled. He and Byers were inches from his back,
but they didn't want to risk pulling him off with his gun ready to fire.

"Tell me it was him," Mulder said between clenched teeth, "tell me!" A vein
was throbbing in his temple.

"Leave her alone!" Langly shouted, "She's our source."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mel whispered to Mulder, her blue
eyes wide with fear.

"If you were with him, then you know him. Tell me where that rat bastard
is." His pushed the muzzle of the gun harder into her temple. "I know you
were with him last night!"

"Mulder, stop." Langly grabbed at the arm into Mel's throat. "This is crazy.
She doesn't know anything!"

Mulder pushed away, pointing the SIG in the direction of the both Mel and
the Gunmen. He was breathing hard. "That son of a bitch sent me to Oregon
after that God-damned ship!"

Frohike stepped forward. "Mulder, trust me, trust us, she's doesn't know
anything about that."

"Then she knows where he is." Mulder stabbed at them with the gun.

Byers continued, "No she doesn't, Mulder, she wasn't with Krycek,"

"She was with me," Langly said, stepping forward, as he reached for Mulder's
wrist. "We broke into the apartment to get access to the files Camby gave to
Minot. Krycek showed up while we were there." He pressed his thumb against
Mulder's hand, hard, and Mulder stepped back, shaking his head, but he
released the gun.

"Maybe you should tell me what's going on," he said finally.

"Gladly," Byers stated. He looked to the left, looked to the right, and
then, moving as one, the Lone Gunmen hurled themselves at the luckless
Mulder.

XXX


It wasn't even close. The Lone Gunmen were determined, and Mulder was on
medical leave for some damn good reasons. He glared at them from his chair.
With his hands cuffed to the back of the chair and his feet tied to the
legs, all he could do was glare.

"What the hell do you three stooges hope to accomplish?" he demanded.

Byers moved forward. "Look, Mulder, we're working on something big here,
with Mel's help."

Frohike sat in a nearby chair, elbows on his knees. "Mel gave us the
information that Camby was having an affair with Minot but we suspected
something much larger. We decided to use her to get into Minot's little
lovenest."

"Langly and Mel entered the apartment without difficulty and located Minot's
personal computer," Byers said.

"We moved the files on onto a disc and we were about to leave when Minot
showed up. Her trip to New York must have been bogus." Langly was across the
room, examining the bruising along Mel's throat. "Ratboy was right on her
tail, if you'll excuse the expression."

"Going by the name of Pike," Frohike said. "Langly and Mel hid in the
closet. Krycek, um, he..." Frohike's voice puttered out.

Byers completed the narrative: "He had intercourse with Minot and then shot
her with a silencer, removed the IDE drive, and left."

"The one-hand wonder," Mulder muttered, giving his handcuffs a rattling tug.

"Hot monkey sex," Frohike commented, hiding a lecherous grin.

"Yeah, well, I could done without it," Langly declared, moving away from
Mel. "I didn't get a good look at Pike until he cut the cables on the CPU.
That's when I saw his face. After that, Ratboy must have gone directly to
Mel's place to rig the explosives."

"How did you know Krycek would put a hit on Mel?" Mulder questioned.

"Minot's love nest was leased under Mel's name. That's how she happened to
have a key," Langly explained. "You know how Krycek likes to tidy up loose
ends."

"The Consortium's clean-up man," Mulder said.

"I am not a loose end," Mel muttered, standing up and pacing her side of the
room.

Langly watched her. "Trust me, baby, that's exactly what you are."

Mulder's face took on a crafty look. "Krycek's getting sloppy," he said.
"Bet you didn't know that rat's shed."

The three men waited for him to elucidate.

"Hair. Scully collected some hairs from the scene that didn't
match with Minot's," he explained.

"The wig," Frohike stated.

"He must like that wig. He's used it before," Mulder said.

"What else did Scully learn?" Byers asked.

"She had a fiber match, and the placement of the bullet wounds weren't from
a gun fired by a woman. The shooter was much taller," Mulder
looked at Mel, "taller than her anyway."

"Comrade Alex doesn't believe in safe sex," Mulder said.

"All with one hand," Frohike marveled.

"What do you use, Frohike, two hands and a foot?" Mulder asked.

"Dammit, Mulder, if you knew Minot had sex before she died, you knew it
wasn't Mel," Langly said accusingly.

"Yeah, I knew. She's too short, anyway. Scully knew that from the angle of
the bullet wounds," Mulder answered blandly.

"Then you're just another gun-happy pig," Langly said. He was quivering with
rage and after a second of self-control he gave Mulder's chair a kick.

"Bite me, you son of a bitch," Mulder said, all but spitting the words. "She
was there, Langly, and I knew that too."

"She was there," Byers agreed, giving Langly a warning look.

"And our van was there," Frohike said. "You recognized the description."

"You didn't think I came over for the scintillating conversation," Mulder
said sarcastically.

"You thought we were working with Krycek?" Langly asked angrily.

Mulder directed his answer to Byers and Frohike.

"Even without a tag number, your shitbucket's easy to trace. I'm not the
last agent who's going to ask you about it."

Frohike and Byers nodded at each other, but Langly still looked ready to
pounce. Mel moved in, gently urging him to the side.

"He hurt you too, didn't he?" she asked Mulder, leaning over him to look in
his eyes. "The man who killed Gabrielle."

Mulder shifted awkwardly and looked at his lap. He didn't answer.

XXX

Dana Scully was always a professional. Even with a belly the size of a house
and wearing maternity underwear, she displayed a sense of dignity no one
could match.

She walked slowly and carefully down a third floor hall of the Hoover
building toward the elevators. Her meeting with Doggett and Skinner had gone
well, despite the tension in the air. She vowed anew that the next time she
saw Alex Krycek, nothing would save him. It would forever be a thorn in her
side that she had shot the wrong man.

She pressed the button for the basement as she punched speed dial on her
cell phone. She'd tried calling him before the meeting, first at her
apartment, then at his, but he hadn't answered.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me. I just got out of my meeting with Skinner." Scully
absently rubbed her lower back, anticipating the massage Mulder had promised
for the evening.

"How'd it go?"

"Difficult. Agent Doggett has a hard time understanding why we've never been
able to put Krycek behind bars."

"I bet that tightened Skinner's ass," Mulder mumbled.

The doors opened and Scully started the march down to their office. "He
wasn't pleased. It was hard for him, considering the circumstances. No man
likes to admit he was being used." She was listening hard to try to figure
out his location, but she heard nothing in the background.

"Where are you, Mulder? Did you go to the store?" Scully asked, unlocking
the door.

"Uh, not yet," he said carelessly. "I'm at the Lone Gunmen's, just, you
know, hangin' out."

Scully paused. "Really?"

She didn't like that. They had a history of bad things happening when they
got together, like a bunch of frat boys with a keg.

"Yeah, um, you find out any more about the investigation?"

She definitely didn't like that. "Mulder, maybe I should come over there."

"No, um, Scully, I'm kind of tied up right now." His voice took on a strange
quality, like a pubescent boy's.

"Okay, Mulder, I know you were upset about the fiber match, but I'm warning
you, if you so much as breathe a word of this investigation..."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Scully." The line went dead and Scully let out a long
sigh. She really didn't feel like driving to Takoma Park, and she needed to
pee. Again.

XXX

It was Byers who went out for food, returning with a variety of snacks.
Anything to keep Mulder quiet. The television was tuned to the Knicks
pre-game show and Mulder was as absorbed as he could be. He didn't like
being trussed up like a turkey, not with Krycek so close. Mel, who had come
to see him as a fellow victim, was feeding him bite-sized Milky Ways.

The guys were still trying to break the code when Mulder's phone rang again.
If it was Scully, it'd be the third call in an hour. Even Mulder, who was
quite content despite the bindings, was annoyed with Scully's nagging wife
act. Maybe he'd stay at his apartment tonight.

Frohike held the phone to his ear.

"Mulder."

"Get Scully off my back."

Mulder stiffened and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "What do you
want?"

Krycek laughed. "I'd like to have what your friends stole off my hard drive,
but I'll settle for you calling off your bitch."

"Fuck you, Krycek," Mulder said dangerously. This caught the attention of
the others and they moved around the tables to listen. "You screwed up big
time, dickhead. They found your spunk all over her."

Mel blanched at the crude words, but she remained silent. She was surprised
when Langly moved next to her and took her hand.

"They can run all the DNA tests they like, Mulder, they won't find me."
Krycek's voice was calm.

"Then why worry about Scully? Is it because she has your number and you know
it?"

"I see you have Huey, Dewey, and Louie doing your dirty work again. Which
one's the father, Mulder?""

"Shut up, this is between you and me. When I find you, you can kiss your
testicles goodbye. Literally." Mulder was yelling, his face ferocious.

"Just call her off, Mulder and then you'll have nothing to worry about." The
call disconnected.

Mulder slammed his cuffed hands against the chair and howled his rage.
Frohike pressed END and set the phone next to the counter.

They were all silent. Finally, Mulder spoke. "He's so full of shit. Get me
out of these handcuffs."

"Buddy," Frohike said, "we can't, not only because of Mel, but because
you're in no condition to be storming out there looking for a needle in a
haystack."

Mulder glared at him, and Byers spoke up. "Mulder, we know you're still on
medical leave. You can't work this case."

"Damn it, get me out of these cuffs!"

They exchanged glances. Finally Frohike said, "Byers, call Scully. Have her
come here--"

Mulder hung his head. "Look, I need to take a piss, okay? You got little
Miss Moppet feeding me candy and sodas. I need to go."

They looked at him, skeptical. "I mean it," Mulder warned.

Byers and Frohike moved away to where Langly was standing next to Mel.
"Hobble him," said Byers. "We can't risk letting him get free."

"No, we could get him a cup," suggested Langly, glancing over Byers's
shoulder to where Mulder sat, his gaze fixed on the Ramones poster
beside him.

"Don't be gross, Langly," said Frohike, and he turned, stroking his chin
with his fingertips.

Mulder finally gave in. He'd had half a plan to escape, but he really did
need to go. "God damn amateurs! Just cuff me to a pipe!"

They all looked at him in wonder. "Yeah, okay," Frohike said. Byers cut
through the cords on Mulder's feet. Together they dragged the chair into
the bathroom. Byers carefully uncuffed one hand.

Frohike came around Mulder with Esther Nairn's old stun gun. "Hey, buddy,
remember this?" he said shaking the gun with a snicker. "Ah,
Mulder.... you're right-handed, right?" Frohike efficiently cuffed Mulder to
a bare pipe running vertically along the wall near the toilet.

Byers stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door halfway for modesty's
sake, and Langly stood next to him, waiting. And waiting. They could hear
the men inside.

"You gonna start?" Frohike asked.

"Yeah, give me a sec, okay?"

The distinctive sound of urine hitting the toilet satisfied the men and they
relaxed. Frohike joked, "Nice stream, Mulder."

"Wanna see if I can hit the ceiling light?"

Mel was appalled by their cavalier attitude toward Krycek's phone call. She
didn't understand how men so attuned to the slightest danger could blow off
the threats so quickly. Obviously they were all in danger. She took
advantage of their interest in the FBI agent's pressing problem. Gathering
her bag, she moved slowly around the tables. She made a casual stop by the
CPU that Byers had been using, removed the disc and slipped it in her bag.

Forcing herself to move quietly, as if without purpose, she drifted towards
the door. It took a moment to get all the locks undone, but finally she
stepped out of the office.

She knew from watching Langly drive that their warehouse office was close to
Carroll Street, and at Carroll and Cedar was the Metro station.
She walked quickly and paid careful attention to street signs, though she
had to squint to see them, having removed her glasses when she
left their building.

The heat was unbelievable and she was relieved when she made it within sight
of the station. As she purchased her ticket, her eyes darted
around the platform watching to see if anyone was following. Finally, she
boarded the Red Line and quickly took a seat. Her plan was to ride the Red
until Fort Totten and then change trains to the Petworth Station. She made
herself as comfortable as possible, trying to ignore any curious looks from
other passengers.

She did not feel any better about this decision than her last, but she was
afraid that staying with Langly would get him killed.

XXX

Langly was the first to notice she was gone. As he finished snapping the
cuffs closed around Mulder's wrists, he looked up, scanning the room.

"Shit!" he exclaimed.

Byers turned toward him. "What?"

"She's gone." Langly called, grabbing the keys as he hurried out the door.

Mulder looked at the two remaining Gunmen. "I told you what would happen if
you didn't get him fixed."

Frohike stuffed a Milky Way into Mulder's mouth.

Langly clattered down the metal stairway, furiously thinking of where Mel
would have gone. Finally he decided that if she was a smart as he thought
she was, she'd be taking the Metro. He gunned the van in the direction of
next station.

XXX

Scully didn't see the Volkswagen van leaving when she pulled into the meager
parking lot of the Gunmen's warehouse.

She was in a foul mood. She had devoured an entire package of peanut butter
crackers on the drive over, and then had to drink most of her bottled water.
Now she needed the bathroom. That, and she was still hungry.

She creaked her way up then down the metal staircase carefully. The baby
didn't seem to like stair climbing. It rolled forward and delivered a hard
kick to her diaphragm just as she reached the landing, knocking the wind
from her. Scully bowed over and waited, chanting to herself, "Six more
weeks, six more weeks..."

XXX

Frohike heard someone making a hell of a racket on the stairs, and he moved
to the door for a look. Byers nodded at him and said, "Maybe it's
Langly."

Frohike moved to the monitor beside the door. "Jesus! It's Scully!"

Both men scampered over to Mulder, who was panicking as well. "Let me go,
dammit. If she sees me like this, she's gonna kick all our asses!" he yelled
at them.

Wide-eyed and open-mouthed with something close to terror, they assessed
their situation. Then, without a word, Frohike grabbed one of the
foam balls that Langly couldn't juggle. Byers reached for a roll of
electrical tape.

They ignored Mulder's pleas. Frohike pushed the foam ball into Mulder's
forever open mouth and Byers wound black electrical tape around and around
his head. Then, working as one, they tipped Mulder back in his chair and
dragged him into the other room.

Byers said as they entered, "Do you think he can breathe like this?"

"Are you kidding? Look at his nose." Frohike hurried off to answer the door.

XXX

Langly had lived in Takoma Park for years. He knew the Metro schedule like
the back of his hand and he was pretty sure he could beat the train. The
station was surprisingly crowded for this time of day and Langly roamed the
platform, looking and looking for any sign of Mel's short bob of black hair.
It was just his luck to arrive right as the train arrived. He boarded the
train, leaping in just as the alarm sounded and the doors closed.

The train started with a lurch and Langly began to make his way toward the
rear. When he reached the last car without finding her, he started to panic
that she hadn't taken the Metro at all, or if she had, she'd get off at the
next stop before he could find her. He started back the way he came, and as
the stop for Petworth was called out, he spotted her in the car ahead,
huddled in the plastic seat with her eyes closed.

She was only a few feet away in the next car, but when he reached for the
door handle he couldn't turn it. He wondered if Mel had seen him pass by and
found a way to lock the door after him. He pulled harder but the door was
locked or jammed. With a sound of disgust he turned away, riding it out to
the next stop. At Petworth, he followed at a distance and saw her switch to
the Green Line. Once she was on the train, he'd have her.

He did not see another figure, a man in black, following him.

XXX

Frohike opened the door, startling Scully, and he closed it swiftly behind
him, leaning back against it. "Hey, Scully."

She looked at the door and then at Frohike. "Afternoon."

He didn't answer, and they did some kind of weird staring game until finally
Scully broke the silence. "Can I come in?"

"Um, yeah, well, um, Byers has, um, he's got a girl in there." Frohike could
kick himself for such a pathetic excuse.

Scully's eyebrow went north. "Excuse me?"

"Mulder left, he ah, went with Langly, for some, beer and, ah, Chinese
food."

Scully looked again at the door. She wasn't really needing Mulder right now,
what she needed was the bathroom. "Okay. Do you think Byers would mind if I
came inside for a second?"

Frohike stood still for a long moment before giving in with a nervous smile.
"Yeah, you got me. There's no chick. Come on in." He swung the door wide
open and followed her inside.

Scully looked around. The Gunmen, for all their loyalty to her, still gave
her the creeps. They were just so off the wall. She liked predictable
people, which didn't explain at all why she stayed with Mulder.

She moved through the narrow room, moving aside a stool and a cable. She
spied some Milky Way wrappers on the counter as she passed and was instantly
jealous of anyone who'd eaten in the last fifteen minutes. She snagged a
chocolate and gestured with her head toward the bathroom. "May I?"

"Sure, sure, go ahead," Byers said, suddenly sneaking up behind her. Scully
gave him an odd look. His face was red and for a minute she
wondered if he really did have a girl there somewhere. She shrugged and
disappeared into the restroom.

XXX

Mel boarded the Green Line train and waited for it to move. She tried not to
let her surprise show when Langly entered the car and sat beside her.

"I'll give you credit for trying, but don't do that again," he said. He
tilted his head from one side to another and she heard his neck pop and
settle
into place. He looked tired.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt," she whispered huskily.

"Then why take the disc?" he asked, leaning forward so that his head fell
into his hands. His blond hair slipped forward, further hiding his face.

"Because, maybe, if the Krycek guy shows up, I can bargain with it." The
words sounded stupid once spoken, and Mel made a face.

"Yeah, just like he gave Gabrielle a break?"

Langly peeked out his fingers at Mel's face. It was tight with worry and
fatigue.

He straightened and put his arm around her. The train started with a lurch
and she fell further into his embrace. "It'll be okay," he whispered into
her soft hair.

XXX

Scully waited patiently for fifteen minutes, eating three Milky Ways, and
then, with a grunt, she settled herself on the Gunmen's uncomfortable sofa.

The guys were nonchalant, talking on and on about the investigation of
Minot's murder. They even started a conversation about the heat. She wasn't
fooled. They were pretending that they were only discussing current events,
as they talked across their monitors, but she was nonplused. She knew Mulder
had been running his mouth. They probably already knew that the attacker was
a non-secretor and had left finger bruises on one side of the victim's
thigh.

She ignored them until Frohike mentioned the name on the apartment lease.
Then she got to thinking, as she unwrapped another Milky Way,
how was Kempka able to afford an apartment like that? Scully sat and sat and
sat, sinking into the miserable sofa like a mammoth in a tarpit.
When she suddenly tried to lurch up off the sofa, she fell back with a huff.

Finally Byers noticed her, and he quickly came to her rescue. "Here, Agent
Scully." He gave her a hand and she finally stood.

"Tell Mulder I'll see him later," she said as she slyly pocketed another
candy. "I've got to go check something out."

The men looked at each other, and Byers shrugged and nodded, but Frohike
couldn't resist questioning her.

"Anything we can help you with?" he asked.

Scully looked at them both and wished the baby would stop squirming for a
moment. It wasn't good for her concentration. "Mulder told you about the
Minot case, didn't he?" she asked with a sigh of resignation.

They exchanged another long look before Byers replied, "He mentioned
something about it, yes."

Which meant he'd spilled his guts. "I'm going back to the city," Scully
said, "If Kempka couldn't afford the apartment, then I want to know who was
paying the bills."

Frohike moved quickly behind her, almost pushing her. "Mind if we tag
along?"

Scully looked over her shoulder at both men, who were downright eager to
leave. "Well..."

"I'll drive," Byers volunteered, and with that Scully gave in, turning her
palms up. Who wanted to drive in five o'clock traffic with a baby
alternately kicking steering wheel and ribs?

XXX

Closer to the city the Saturday crowd thinned when Langly and Mel changed
trains back to Takoma Park. Langly decided not to sit, so he waited next to
the partition by the doors. Mel gave him a confused look. "Sit down," she
said. The car was empty but for one man asleep in the back.

"No, you go ahead," he stated.

Mel did not, and when the train jolted forward she had to grasp the metal
pole to keep from falling. She leaned her cheek against the pole.

Langly watched her for a long moment. "Come here," he said.

Mel turned to him. He was leaning against the partition, his legs spread
wide, feet firmly planted on the floor. She moved toward him. Langly grasped
her shoulders and turned her around, pulling her back against him.

His arms encircled her and Mel surprised herself by relaxing against his
chest. This was the safest she'd felt in ages, even before her discovery of
Camby and Minot.

They did not say anything, listening to the whir and clack of the tracks.
Mel moved her hand down to his hand which was resting low against her belly,
entwining her fingers with his.

"Well isn't this cozy." Krycek suddenly said behind them.

XXX

Scully glared at Byers. His driving was making her crazy. He drove at the
speed limit and always signaled his turns.

"Where are we going?" Byers finally asked, glancing over at her.

"Kempka's name was on that lease, but I want to confirm that she's the one
who made the arrangements. It's an expensive area for a woman her tax
bracket." Scully peered up at the rearview mirror. Frohike was sprawled in
the backseat taking a nap, his head resting on her briefcase.

"That's an excellent point, something we've been tossing around," Byers
replied.

"What else have you been tossing around?" Scully unscrewed the cap of her
water bottle.

"You want to hear our theory?"

"Please," she said, thinking this would be fine entertainment.

Byers took a deep breath. "We believe Minot was murdered as a result of her
involvement with Special Agent Camby."

Scully choked on her water. "What?"

"She and Camby were involved and she was probably his middleman. She
received his information and passed it along to a buyer."

"I always thought you were the normal one," Scully said. "Did Mulder have a
hand in this ridiculous confabulation?"

Byers shot her an impatient look. "Look at the facts. You've got an
apartment leased in the assistant's name, a love-nest, so to speak, in
downtown DC. " He signaled, looked back over his shoulder, and made a
right-hand turn. "Minot is murdered the day after Camby is arrested and her
hard-drive is stolen."

"This wouldn't be the first time Krycek trafficked in classified
information. Jesus." Scully rested her head against the window.

Byers was silent, letting Scully assess the information. Finally she sat
forward, put the cap back on her empty water bottle, then turned and tossed
it at Frohike, hitting him in the chest. He sat up with a startled "chuff,"
looked around him, and asked, "What's up?"

"Let me have my briefcase. I think I left today's paper in there."

Frohike handed over the case and Scully set it between Byers and herself and
clicked it open.

She looked at the front page. Below the fold was a picture of Gordon Camby
being arrested. "I can use this."

XXX

The train rocked side to side, but Langly and Mel stood very still.

"Have a seat." The hand he kept hidden in his pocket made Krycek's
suggestion into an order. The trio moved up a few rows and then sat, Mel
and Langly together and Krycek across the aisle.

"You two have been a right pain in the ass," Krycek observed, "but all
that's about to change. Give me the disc."

Langly leaned forward. "Why should we? You'll just kill us too, like you did
Minot." He spoke with his usual flippant tone. Only a little gulp at the end
betrayed his fear.

Alex smiled coldly. "Minot knew a hell of a lot more than you. Give me the
disc, Mel."

She looked at Langly as if she were asking his forgiveness, and then she
reached into her purse and brought out the CD. Slowly she began to hand it
over to Krycek, but as he reached for it, the train picked up speed.
Startled, Mel lost her hold and dropped the disc. It landed on edge and
began to roll down the grooved flooring. Mel and Langly lunged for it, but
Krycek stopped them.

"Don't," he commanded, his hidden hand reinforcing his words. "Mel, go get
it."

Mel stood slowly and walked up the aisle. The CD lay on its side, and she
bent down to pick it up.

Krycek had his attention on Mel and Langly saw an opportunity. Stepping out
into the aisle and grasping the backs of the seats, he swung both legs up
suddenly, plowing his feet hard into Krycek's side. Krycek went down in a
tangle and Langly leaped over him, headed for Mel. "Run, Mel!"

Krycek shot his good hand out and grasped Langly's ankle, sending him
crashing to the floor.

Langly's chin cracked onto the floor, rattling his teeth and sending a sharp
pain through his head. He shook it to clear the pain.

Langly flipped onto his back and smashed his other foot into Krycek's face.
He heard a crunch that turned his stomach, but he kicked again, until Krycek
released his ankle and rolled for cover. Langly pulled himself up, gritted
his teeth, and stomped on Krycek's hand as hard as his high-tops would
allow. He ground his heel into Krycek's fingers, doing his best to crush
them.

"Too bad, dude, you don't have a spare," Langly said as Krycek roared in
pain. Langly rose and raced down the passage, grabbing Mel's arm
when he caught up to her.

"Run!" Langly yelled again, but she stood as if she were stunned. "Come on,"
he urged her, but when he tried to pull her along, she dropped the CD again.
It skittered beneath the seats, breaking her paralysis, and she tried to
dive for it, but Langly was pushing her ahead with all his might.

Even when Langly had shoved her through into the next car, she resisted.

"The disc, Richard! He'll get it," she cried.

"Leave it," Langly yelled, pushing them through the car, racing past the
confused passengers. He looked back to find Krycek pushing his way through
the door.

Langly shoved Mel through the next car, hitting the lock and grasped for the
latch on the door. "Give me your cell phone," he demanded, wiping blood from
his chin with the back of his hand.

Mel fished it out of her bag and gave it to him with shaking fingers. She
stared at Krycek bearing down on them, his shoulder humped up and his
prosthesis dangling at an awkward angle.

Langly took the cell phone, bit the end of the antenna, and pulled it out
with his teeth. He then broke off the antenna and shoved the end into the
lock, snapping it off. Even if Krycek found the conductor, they wouldn't be
able to open the door. With a last glance at Krycek's enraged face as he
approached, now only a few feet away, Langly shot him the finger.

XXX

Mulder waited. It was the final quarter and the Knicks were behind by 8.

XXX

Langly and Mel made their way to the head car before he finally stopped and
flopped down into a seat. Mel sat down beside him, both of them
panting for breath.

"Mel, I need you to braid my hair," Langly stated.

"What?" she asked in confusion, but he only turned his back to her. She
raised her hands and began separating his hair into sections.

"We have to get low-key fast. He can still spot us on the platform. Make it
tight."

Mel did the best she could and when she was done, she didn't know how to
secure the braid. Langly reached back and tucked it down into his collar.

He turned to Mel and handed her his glasses. "Put these away."

She nodded and they stared at each other for a long moment. Suddenly she
pushed herself against him, her lips pressed firmly against his own. Langly
was surprised but he parted his lips, receiving a brief taste of her before
she pulled away. He smiled sheepishly. It hurt.

There was a man a few seats up, reading the Post. Langly stood and
approached him, digging into his pocket. "Ten bucks for your Orioles hat."

The man put down the paper. "What?"

Langly showed him the money. "I said ten bucks for your hat."

"Get lost," the man said, going back to his paper.

"Twenty?" Langly insisted.

He had the man's attention. "Thirty."

"Twenty-five."

"Thirty."

"Dammit!"

When they emerged on the platform, Langly hardly looked himself.

He held Mel's hand firmly as they made their way to the escalator at a fast
walk.

They broke out of the terminal and raced through the exit. She was
unprepared as Langly jerked her to a stop and ducked behind a concrete
wall, using it as a temporary barrier. He peered around it, taking his time,
inch by inch. He did not see Krycek anywhere.

Langly glanced sideways at Mel. "I hope we lost him, but I'm not sure."

She nodded.

Finally he decided to risk it. They still had to get to the van. "Okay, it's
do or die."

XXX

"You wait here," Scully ordered and pulled herself up out of the car. She
tucked a file and the newspaper beneath her arm.

Parker Winston was the landlord of Kempka's apartment. He and his mother
lived in a basement apartment in the corner building, and the
notorious love-nest was next door and upstairs. Winston's mother enjoyed the
thrill of being part of a major news story, but she also knew they
couldn't re-rent the apartment until the crime scene tape came down.

The cobbled walkway up to Winston's house cut across the postage-stamp-sized
front yard, and Scully found herself stepping over water hose and rake
before lurching up the steps to the front door. She hated this ungainly
feeling of not knowing what your body was going to do next or whether you
could control it.

An older woman, probably the mother, answered the door, and Scully flashed
her badge. "Excuse me, is Parker Winston home?"

"No," said the woman, dressed in a faded blue housedress. She looked at
Scully's large belly, and then at her ID. "He's playing softball."

"I see. Do you know when he might be home?" Scully put the badge away.

"You have more questions?"

"Sorry?" Scully asked.

"There was a man with a badge here yesterday, asking questions too." The
woman shuffled her slippered feet. "I don't think he was a real
policeman."

"I see." Scully paused for a moment. "Could you describe this man?"

"Oh, he was nasty. " The woman opened her screen door wider. "You want to
come inside?"

Scully nodded; the old woman needed to get off her feet. Once inside, Scully
remained standing, waiting for the woman to settle back into her recliner.
"I didn't like the look of him. He spoke with Parker in the yard." She
carefully arranged a colorful afghan over her legs. "There was something
wrong with his arm."

Krycek, Scully thought, and thanked her.

"Winston's supposed to be back soon," the woman said as Scully left.

When she reached the car, a red Saturn pulled into the driveway. Scully
straightened and waited.

Winston got out of the car, his dark eyes sizing Scully up. "You were here
this morning, poking at that dead girl's body."

"Sir," Scully said, again raising her badge, "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully
with the FBI. Do you have a moment for a few questions?"

"Yeah." Winston kicked at a clump of grass. Short and prematurely bald, he
was still dressed in a grimy blue softball uniform.

"I wanted to clarify that Melanie Kempka was the woman who rented the
apartment." She made the statement sound like a question and handed the
press photo of Kempka to Winston.

"Nah, this is the lady who got all pissed off." He handed the photo back,
pulled off his cap and smoothed his remaining hair. "Hot isn't it?"

XXX

The office was empty when Mel and Langly got back.

"Your friends must have untied that poor man," Mel said. "Thank goodness."

"But his car is still here," Langly said, clearly perplexed. "I'll check the
back."

They found Mulder in the other room. There was no mistaking his fury, even
with his mouth covered. Mel gingerly removed the electrical tape,
unwinding it as carefully as she could.

Mulder spat out the foam ball with a "plagh!"

"I'll kill them!" he exploded. "Now get these cuffs off me!"

"Bummer," Langly said, unimpressed. "What happened?"

Mulder gratefully drank from the cup of water Mel held for him. "Scully came
and they left with her. I don't know where they went."

Langly nodded. "So did the Knicks win?"

XXX

Scully slammed the car door. "Let's go," she said, already putting her cell
phone to her ear.

Byers started the car and he and Frohike listening to her one-sided
conversation with Skinner.

They were already on the expressway when she clicked off the phone. She
turned to them and explained, "Kempka has not been using the
apartment. Winston identified Camby and Minot, said they met on a regular
basis."

"I bet he also said it was none of his business," Frohike interjected from
the back.

"Thank God for nosy neighbors." Scully put the file and paper away in her
briefcase. "Kempka only showed up once, angry, because apparently
she didn't know the apartment was leased in her name. Minot paid all the
bills. Minot also had quite a few gentlemen callers at the place. rycek
may not have been the only buyer."

"Skinner is withdrawing the APB on Kempka. I think she must have holed up
somewhere when her house was burned. It's too bad about that."
They all remained quiet.

Finally, Byers broke the silence. "Scully, we have something more to tell
you."

XXX

"What happened to you?" Mulder asked.

Mel had seated Langly in another chair. He had removed his blood-splattered
shirt and his left shoulder was bruised from his fall. Mel cleaned his
bloody chin with a washcloth and peroxide.

"Tangoed with your one-armed friend," Langly managed to say, grimacing from
the sharp pain.

Mulder sat back in a huff. He was pleased that Langly had gotten away but
irked that he had evidently won the fight. Stranger things had happened.

Mel smoothed his hair. She was angry with herself for leaving the Gunmen's
office. Regardless that she had been trying to protect them, she had put
them both in more danger.

Mel leaned down to look closely at the cut before pouring the peroxide along
it. Langly pulled sharply away from her. "Don't, " she whispered before
patting the injury dry.

She started to rise when Langly reached up with one hand to grasp the back
of her neck, pulling her mouth down to his own. He kissed her
thoroughly, no surprises this time.

"Don't mind me." Mulder muttered.

XXX

The Gunmen gathered around trading insults and arguing the events of the
past few hours. Langly had finally broken the encryption. The
disc contained a list of malfunctioning weather buoys located in the
Atlantic Ocean. Langly had discovered twelve-character alphanumeric strings
and gotten a match. He hacked into the NOA to double-check the data. They
speculated why the information was so valuable.

"The ID numbers are right, " Langly insisted punching his finger toward the
monitor, "but what's reported here and what's on the file are
different."

"Why would the NOA alter weather information?" Frohike asked.

Byers compared the data. "This is information recorded by NOA, " he pointed
to the other monitor, "and this is what was released. Someone is
altering the records and posting the buoys as non-operational."

"So, it's anyone's guess?" Langly looked disgusted with the data. Why would
someone buy this sort of information, much less kill for it?

"We'll look into this. Copy the file and give the original back to Agent
Scully." Byers decided.

Frohike made a big show of giving the disc to Scully as evidence. She took
it suspiciously, snapping it into the Radiohead case.

Scully was bittersweet about the case. She'd stayed outside to take a call
from Doggett. He'd been angry. A man fitting Krycek's description had been
detained at National. When Doggett arrived to bring him in, the prisoner was
gone and the two guards were unconscious in the locked room.

Scully smiled briefly at Mel, who had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, and
made her way to the bathroom. She paused as she passed an open
door.

"Mulder?"

Mulder was still tied and cuffed. He heard her voice and blanched. "Scully?"

She approached him from behind and rubbed his shoulders, then smoothed back
his hair. "Are you okay?"

"Scully," he whined, "I can explain."

"Yes." She leaned down to lightly kiss his forehead, and he rubbed his head
against her belly and sighed. The baby kicked at him and Mulder
pulled away sharply.

"I'll be right back," Scully said, continuing on to the bathroom. She'd have
to thank Frohike for keeping Mulder safe. She knew he wouldn't have kept
himself out of trouble if he'd been left alone to investigate.

She paused before leaving the room. "Did you go to the store yet?"

"Uh, no."

"Scully, Scully," Mulder called, realizing she'd left the room. Where was
she going? Surely she would release him?

"Scully!"

XXX

Mel was hanging blue curtains when a loud sudden knock startled her.

Checking through the peephole, she saw it was Langly. She opened the lock to
find him lounging against the door frame.

"We were picked up by the Associated Press."

He handed her a newspaper, folded to display an article under a boldface
headline: "Agent and Mystery Woman--The Selling of US Secrets." Mel nodded
and handed the paper back as Langly pushed past her into the apartment.

"I saw it this morning. Congratulations, Richard." she said.

"Byers is thrilled. We all are," he commented. "Hey, I like what you did
with the place!"

"Thanks. And thanks for letting me stay here until the insurance comes
through," Mel said.

He nodded at the Ramones poster. "You could have taken that down. We have
one at the office."

Mel smiled and turned to glance at it. "I couldn't. It has memories."

Langly snorted. "Pretty bad ones."

Mel bent to tie her shoe. "Not at all. I look at it as an adventure. After
all, we had a happy ending, didn't we?"

"Maybe. At least you didn't lose your job." Langly folded the paper and
tucked it under one arm. "I was wondering-"

"Yeah?"

He pushed his glasses up with his index finger. "You wanna go eat some time?
Or catch a flick?"

"Like a date?" Mel asked, looking up at him.

Langly shifted his feet. "No, er, just you know, to eat."

"Sure." Mel rose and stood smiling up at him.

"Yeah, good."

They stood there, watching each other.

Finally Langly said, "You hungry?"

Mel rolled her eyes and nodded. "Yeah."

"Wanna go eat?"

"Yeah. Let me get my jacket." The weather had turned cool again.

"Let's go then." He opened the door behind him, holding it so she could walk
beneath his outstretched arm.

As she locked the door, she asked, "Then this isn't a date?"

"No," he insisted. "It's, you know, two people, eating."

"Oh."

They turned down the corridor.

Langly turned to walk backwards beside her, watching as she pulled on her
jacket. "Unless you plan to kiss me again."

Mel flipped her hair and snorted, "Not unless this is a date."

"So then maybe it is." Langly turned around with a little jump and walked
beside her.

"Maybe."
XXX

END