Chapter two

Fox Mulder walked into his basement office, routinely tossing his jacket onto the coat rack that was always occupied by Max Fenig's NICAP hat. He gave Dana 4 a nod and set down his cup of coffee. His eyebrows lifted slightly in amusement.

"Hey, what's with the outfit Scully? Not that a skin-tight leather suit is a bad look for you; just a change."

"That's it. Just a change." 4 smiled brightly until he looked away. She glanced down at her apparel and scolded herself for the blunder. Dana 4 had always liked the feel of leather, the way that it smelt, the way it moved. She now assumed that Scully did not share her taste in clothing.

"Something's different," said Mulder as he looked across the desk at her. "I can't quite place it."

4 coolly stared back, allowing the corner of her mouth creep upward, even though she was beginning to worry that her cover was blown. She decided to try sarcasm, a typical emotion she had been working on for some time, and something she had been told was frequently used by Agent Scully. She reached up to her neck, then acted as if she were just remembering something.

"My cross. I lost it. That's all. I see your photographic memory doesn't fail you for a second, Mulder," she answered with a flash of white teeth.

Mulder sat back, and folded his arms; he hadn't bought the explanation, or the fake smile. There was something else. He sat up again, rather quickly, and placed an elbow on his desk.

"Are you feeling all right? You usually aren't this peppy in the morning. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen the peppy side of Dana Scully."

"I'm feeling perfectly fine."

"All right," he conceded, though the gnawing feeling in his gut told him that something was off. He ignored it with great difficulty, and gulped down what was left of his drink. Mulder caught a glimpse of 4, who was nervously rapping her fingers on the desktop. He cleared his throat and set his mug down on the edge of the desk.

"Did Skinner give you that file on the Sanderson family?"

4 sat up and leaned forward, relieved that she finally had some solid facts to discuss, "Actually, I talked to the Chief of Police this morning, and it turned out to be nothing. Mr. Sanderson wanted custody of the children and thought that he could convincingly set his wife up to look like she was a practicing witch. He told them that she was performing Satanic rituals and that it wasn't safe for the children to live with her."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully at this and turned the chair toward the wall.

"Glad to know we wasted our time on a nut job. How did they find him out?"

"He broke down and confessed to the whole thing last night. Apparently he didn't have enough nerve to stick to his story. The law enforcement is laughing at us for believing the little show he put on," she said.

"Just wait until they get a taste of the paranormal, and they won't be laughing so hard. Someday, Scully. They'll all regret calling me Spooky."

4 wiped the sweat from her brow. She knew Mulder had suspected something, and he wasn't going to be easy to fool for long. He knew his partner too well. Spying on the FBI agent wasn't as simple as she thought it would be, but she had done her home work. She could pull it off until she was given more orders regarding Mulder's loyalties. If only he would just stick to the facts.

4 remembered the argument on the day of her assignment. Strughold had wanted her to assassinate Mulder, to get him out of the way, but her father had insisted on her only watching him. She fingered the small lump on the back of her neck, the only distinguishing mark between her and Agent Scully. The one thing that kept her from being completely human.

4 gazed at the poster behind Mulder's head. I want to believe. She pondered the statement, wondering what it could mean. She didn't know much about the world around her, no more than what her father had taught her. Like Mulder, she had been left in the dark, but she supposed it was for the best. Believing in things wasn't her purpose so 4 pushed the thought out of her mind.

"...Scully, snap out of it!"

4 bounced back to reality to see Mulder leaning over his desk waving a hand past her face. She couldn't hold out anymore. She had to tell him something.

"I'm sorry. It's just that...well I'm worried about my brother."

"What? Mr. I'm-the-king-of-the-world, Bill Jr?"

"No, Mulder. Charles. He visited last night and was having some trouble with his job, and my nephew is very sick. It's been a hard week for him," she replied. 4 had complete appreciation for the many days she had spent in training; studying the agents, learning how to create false scenarios if needed. Was it convincing enough? Mulder stared at her for a moment, thinking over what she said.

"That's okay. I hope nothing's seriously wrong."

"I'm sure it's really nothing. It'll blow over. But that's not important right now. My personal life doesn't belong here."

4 crossed her arms, pleased with her convincing performance. She would soon learn how to fool him more easily.

I cannot let my mind wander. I am above that. I was made to perform a purpose, she told herself. Next time, Mulder wouldn't even notice a thing.

---

Scully had never been more bored in her life. She had woken that morning after a short sleep to find 4 dressed in a suit and ready for work; her work, not 4's. That was how it had been for three days, except for the first day. Scully didn't know what the hell 4 had been thinking, wearing a leather suit to impersonate her. But other than that, Mulder must have been buying the guise.

Prior to leaving, she had moved Scully into the central bathroom, and hand cuffed her to a sturdy pipe, leaving her right hand free to pick up the few items she had been given: a stack of paper, a pencil, some food, and a bottle of water. Between that and unconsciousness, Scully hadn't done much. In that part of the house, no one would be able to hear her shout if they were outside, and if by chance someone in the building could faintly hear, it would be dismissed as a TV or a radio, perhaps even an argument in another room. No one, but someone in her own apartment, would be able to help her. Scully spent the first half of the morning screaming to her hearts content like the morning before, and the one before that, but to no avail. So she sat the last half of the morning muttering to herself about the stupid mess she was in. Scully thought that she could go mad in a situation such as this.

Talking to yourself, she thought, isn't exactly a good sign.

She tried to make the most of it until she grew hungry, munching on the dry turkey sandwich and taking small sips of water. Scully decided she was lucky to get even that, as most abductors failed to feed their prisoners, let alone give them sandwiches and water. Given the circumstances, she was probably fortunate that she was still alive. That was what she didn't understand. Why had she been allowed to live? Wouldn't she be considered a threat? If she were dead, then 4 and her damn project would have no risk of being exposed.

Scully finished her sandwich and reached for a piece of paper. She might as well find a way to pass the time. With lack of something better to do, she began to draw, letting her mind float freely without thought, not even to what she was drawing. When she finished, she held out the paper to take a good look at it.

Maybe I should have pursued art. Then I wouldn't be in this mess, she thought dryly. But pursuing a miscellaneous talent hadn't been what she really wanted. She had wanted to be a doctor and after that, a FBI agent. With a sigh, Scully tossed the paper aside and picked up another sheet.

---

4 closed the door to the apartment and leaned up against it. She hadn't been prepared. With all the work she'd done, with all the files and profiles she had studied, she hadn't been prepared. The whole day she kept running into awkward moments and would blame them on one thing or another. Three days had passed, and all she could tell him was: 'Today is just one of those days. I hope you understand.'

What a failure, she told herself. That's all you'll ever be. Who do you think you are? You're not even good enough to be human. You don't even have your own name. Dana, Dana 4.

4 walked into the bedroom, trying to shake the blank look on her face, but she couldn't even do that. She strode up to the bathroom door, swinging it open. Scully looked up as she entered.

"Did you find any use for what I gave you? I'm sorry that I could not give you much else, but I can't have you escaping. Was your lunch enough?"

There was faint look of concern on her face, but Scully couldn't tell if it was real. Perhaps if 4 hadn't looked exactly like her, she would have tried to reason with her. But the physical similarities only reminded Scully of what 4 was - a clone.

"It was fine. I want to ask you something...4," Scully felt awkward talking to herself.

4 sat down on the floor beside her and looked at her with what could only be interpreted as expectancy. Instead of going on, Scully studied the face before her. Despite the likeness, the facial expressions were different, and 4's personality was that of a younger woman, not of a thirty-six year old FBI agent. It was understandable. 4 had no past except for the few years she had existed. There was no way that she would ever be like her. Scully almost felt sorry for the clone, but something still wouldn't let her.

"4, what is my purpose in all this?"

4 hesitated, looking down at her hands. The look on her face almost resembled one of a five-year old that has stolen a cookie and doesn't want to tell. Finally in a small voice, the answer came.

"I lied ... to you. To everyone. I was told to kill you. I wanted to kill you when I first saw you. I know I'm not completely human, but it's horrible being a clone. I knew when I saw you that I could never be my own person. But I couldn't kill you. I came from you. I know I have to complete my purpose, but I don't see any reason why I have to slaughter you, in cold blood. I have started to learn about feelings; hate from that group of men, love from my father-"

"Father?" Scully cut her off.

4 looked at her with scrunched brows and quickly stood up.

"I should make some dinner for you shouldn't I? You're probably getting hungry."

With that, 4 darted out of the bathroom, leaving Scully by herself once more. Once in the next room she sat down on the couch.

'Stupid! Why are you so stupid? Why tell her these things. She's not like you. She could never understand. All she could ever do is hate you. Hate, hate, hate.'