Chapter 9

**The Unremarkable House in Fusio**

FUSIO, SWITZERLAND
TUESDAY, JUNE 2
00:34 HOURS

"Scully," Mulder's voice coaxed her gently out of sleep.

She opened her eyes slowly to the dead of the night. Tall, dark trees surrounded them. "Are we there?"

"Yes, we are," he replied, wrapping a blanket around her. "Nicola, Marco, and Rosa went ahead."

She looked around again. "But there's nothing here, Mulder." Her voice was still sleepy.

"It's right behind the trees. You can't see it from here, or any other direction for that matter. Come on," he gave her his hand, and she climbed out of the car.

"Where are we?" she asked as they walked toward the trees.

"In the middle of nowhere," Mulder replied jokingly.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Fusio. The name is Fusio," he explained. "You can't see anything right now. It's too dark."

"I feel like a fugitive," she said all of a sudden as they walked toward the house.

"Well, we are fugitives," he corrected her.

She arched her brow. "I want these cowards exposed for good."

He nodded at her in quiet astonishment and walked with her to the house that was about to become their new home.

Old and dusty with creaking wooden floors, the house was rather unremarkable, but it gave her a strange sense of security. She looked at the old furniture, sighing deeply.

"At least it has two bedrooms," Marco remarked when he emerged from the kitchen.

She smiled at him, "What about the beds?"

"What about them?" Marco asked.

"Are they there?" she inquired, her tone slightly raised.

"Oh, yeah, wooden all the way through ... but no mattresses," he replied.

"What?!" Scully asked.

Nicola burst out laughing, and Marco grinned at her.

She looked at them slightly annoyed and pressed her lips together. "You got me," she said, her tone edgy.

"I need to make a call on Gino's phone," Nicola announced and left down the stairs.

"I'm gonna go help Mulder and Gino with the suitcases," Marco said and left.

"I'll help you," Günther followed him.

She looked at Paul, "Would you help me clean a little?"

He nodded. "Of course."

She dusted off the sheets that were covering the furniture and opened the windows. The air was chilly but fresh. Paul helped her, moving around her with ease. She wondered how a con-artist ended up being a Jesuit. "May I ask what's your expertise?"

He looked at her with smart eyes, "Apart from being an ex con-artist?"

She cringed a little. "Yes."

"I'm a biochemical engineer," he replied. "Father Gino helped me when I ended on the streets after losing my mother. He saw me perform a few tricks in St. Peter's Square and rob some people in the crowd. I thought he was going to call the police. Instead, he asked if he could invite me to lunch."

Scully smiled.

Paul continued, "I accepted. The next year I got to finish high school and enroll myself in the Sapienza University of Rome. After that, I got accepted at MIT."

"Quite a journey," she commented. "The biochemistry of viruses must be a well-known topic for you."

"Absolutely," he nodded.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you," Marco said as he entered the living room with Gino. Nicola was right behind them.

Scully and Paul turned to them. They were carrying suitcases and blankets. "But it goes against everything you've learned about life so far?"

"You bet it does," Marco replied.

"Mrs. Scully," Gino nodded at her.

"Father Gino," she answered politely.

"No one knows it?" she heard Mulder.

"No," Rosa's voice followed.

"Know what?" Marco asked as they appeared.

Mulder looked at Rosa. She was reluctant to talk at first. "I never told you."

Marco's eyes went to Mulder's and back to Rosa's.

"Rosa?" Nicola urged her on.

"My grandmother," she looked at Gino, and he nodded. "She was in the original group that founded the Club of Rome."

Nicola and Marco stared at her. "Club of Rome?" Nicola asked and looked at Gino. "Your mother?"

Gino nodded, "My mother."

"The think tank?" Scully asked. "Why is that an issue?"

They all looked at her, a little annoyed.

"Right," she commented and sighed. "So, Gino's mother was one of the founders of the Club of Rome. She had to be highly influential, I suppose, bright and open-minded. Her daughter became a prominent lawyer and politician, while her son became one of the most influential Jesuits of his time. The Black Pope."

They all stared at her, except for Gino, who smiled and nodded.

"You're familiar with the 'Black Pope'?" Mulder asked her in an amused tone.

"I'm a Catholic, Mulder. Of course, I'm familiar."

"Yeah, but, I mean ..." he stuttered.

"No, let me finish since I am the foolish post-modern rational skeptic," she insisted. With folded hands and a severe look on her face, she continued. "Since the Club of Rome is a global think tank that shapes policies of different international organizations and governments, it had certainly an impact on the Jesuit order, too, and vice versa. All begging the question of where this interlinking ends. Did the Jesuits have a say in the wars that were fought in Europe after 1990? Did they push certain agendas on, such as climate change? Do they work in concert with the CIA? And who knows, maybe they've known about the alien virus all along."

Nicola exchanged looks with Gino and suppressed a smile while Rosa and Marco watched her in silence. She had a point, after all.

"Okay, okay," Gino said in a calm tone. "You've made your point. It does sound highly improbable. But there is a group of individuals, an elite, if you will, that calls the shots these days. And neither my old mother or I are among them."

"She's still alive?" Scully asked.

"Oh, yes, 103 years old," Gino replied.

"But you know who is among them, right? That's how you got the documents," Mulder asked him, the revelation evident in his eyes.

Gino lowered his gaze and sat down.

"Gino?" Nicola pressed him.

"Yes, that is how I got them," he confirmed and looked at them. "My mother got them a few weeks ago and gave them to me. It's how it all began."

"It's why you faked your death, haven't you?" Nicola asked.

Gino looked at Nicola and then at Mulder. "Correct. I knew I was in grave danger."

"Why did they take Nicola?" Scully asked.

"They thought Gino gave him the documents," Paul replied.

"Did they ask you about them?" She turned to Nicola.

"No," he replied, "they tied me, dragged me down to the catacombs, and put first three guards, and then only one."

"Something must have changed in their plan," Günther commented. "They don't make mistakes."

Mulder eyed him but kept his mouth shut.

"I think it's safe to say that somehow we avoided the worst," she spoke calmly, but her face was tired. "But bear in mind they will probably come for us when they learn you're alive."

"That's why I'm keeping a low profile," father Gino noted, "but unfortunately, I can't afford to be locked away in a safe house. This is the best arrangement I could come up with in such a short amount of time."

"What do we do now? Wait?" Marco asked.

Father Gino looked at him, "I wait and coordinate plans through Günther and Paul while you learn about the virus and figure out ways to fight back. Also," he paused and looked at Rosa, "you both learn how to defend yourself."

"We don't have any lab equipment, not even the basics," Scully pointed out.

"Don't worry," father Gino replied, "it's being shipped to us through various unconnected locations. You'll have what you need. We have friends all over Switzerland."

"What about food?" Rosa asked.

"There's a small local store with the essentials," Günther replied. "We know the owner."

"Great," Marco commented. "I wouldn't mind resting now, though."

"Marco's right," Scully said. "It's been a long day."

Gino stood up, "Paul, Günther, and I, we'll be staying in the adjacent little house."

Nicola escorted them to the door.

"Thank you for doing this," Rosa whispered to Scully as Nicola was coming back.

Scully smiled warmly in return. "Go get some sleep."

Rosa smiled and followed Marco to the bedroom.

The room was empty all of a sudden. Mulder was in the bathroom while Nicola made the bed for himself in the living room corner. She welcomed the quiet and leaned against the kitchen counter. So much has happened in so little time. It was hard to process and even harder to think of the future.

"There's nothing as frightening as the unknown," Nicola spoke in the far corner while unfolding the blanket. "Unknown people, unknown places, unknown outcomes."

She gazed at him wordlessly, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. Her blue eyes showed fear, and her body screamed for a comforting hug.

He placed the blanket on the couch and walked to her slowly.

Her lips parted. She wanted to flee. But her legs wouldn't move, and her hands went by their own accord around his broad shoulders as he pulled her into his arms. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and held him tight.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she breathed into him. "It's not fair to ask this of you."

He hushed her and caressed her hair gently. "It's okay. This life ... it's a constant struggle."

Tears formed in her eyes, but she didn't want to cry. "Thank you," she whispered against his neck and pushed him away gently.

He pressed his lips together and nodded. "You're welcome."

She looked back at him with soulful eyes. "It is a struggle," she whispered, "but you make it bearable. You all do."

A smile spread across his face, and he brushed her cheek with his thumb.

She closed her eyes, trying not to give away how much she yearned to be held the way he held her or how good it felt.

"Where's the flashlight, dad?" Marco walked in and stopped in his tracks. "I'm sorry, I didn't ..."

"No, it's alright," Scully replied and gently removed Nicola's hand from her cheek. "It's been a very long day."

"Yeah," Marco agreed. "So, where's the flashlight, dad?"

"Look into the pocket of my jacket," Nicola replied. "Good night, Dana."

She closed the door behind her when she stepped into the dark of the bedroom. She needed to be held so badly. Nicola's thoughtful words and attention almost undid her. She let her body fall on the mattress.

Her eyes closed.

"Hey, what are you doing in the dark?" Mulder asked as he walked into the bedroom naked from the waist up. He lit the small lamp on the floor. His hair was ruffled from toweling.

"Thinking."

"Anything you'd like to share?" he asked and sat down next to her.

She gazed at him with eyes so vulnerable and honest that it broke his heart to see her that way. She smiled weakly. A single tear ran down her cheek. She wondered if he felt it, too. The need for more and the gratitude of already being given that much. It tore at her soul that she loved him the way she did but could not lead a life with him that would make them both happy.

"Scully," he whispered, looking into her stormy blue eyes. He sat down on the bed beside her.

She reached for his face and ran her thumb over his lips, sighing silently as she saw them twitch under her caress. Only God knew how many times she had fantasized about them, where she wanted to feel them and how badly she wanted to taste them. And how devastatingly erotic it felt when she finally did.

He was afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. Her fingers ignited small fires as they touched and explored his face.

She stared into the depths of his eyes. They seemed darker, richer in the suffused light.

"I need you," she whispered, her breath getting caught in her throat.

He swallowed and grasped her face. He loved her; she had to know that. He inched closer and brushed his lips against hers. Tentatively, softly.

She leaned against his forehead and kissed him fully.

He groaned and shifted closer to her.

"Oh, God," she whispered into his neck when he found his way between her legs.

"Scully," he pleaded.

She exhaled heavily. There was a soft knock on the door. Maybe the door even opened a bit. She wasn't sure of it, and she didn't care to look.

His hand pressed firmly into her, coaxing another soft moan from her, and he lay down next to her.

She looked into his eyes. How did they end up so broken?

He caressed her face, and his legs intermingled with hers. He loved her deeply. Sighing, he said, "I need to know."

She stared at him.

He looked her in the eye. "Do you love him?"

The dreaded, awful question.

Did she? She closed her eyes, her head swaying in dismay.

He tensed. "You do, don't you?"

She shifted and looked away from him. Oh, God, this was harder than she thought it would be. Her lip trembled.

"I'm afraid so," she admitted, looking him in the eye.

His jaw tensed.

"But I love you, too," she added sincerely.

He exhaled loudly. "I love you, Scully."

"Oh, God," she whimpered. "I don't deserve these words right now."

He looked at her, despite the hurt. "Come what may, I'll always love you."

She buried her face in her hands and wept silently. How did it come to all this? How did she let it?

"Hey," he whispered and shifted towards her. "Come here." He reached for her hands and hugged her tightly to him. "You saved me from myself. Time and again," he whispered into her ear, "We'll work it out."

She trembled in his arms, emotions running high. Tears streamed down her face. How will they work it out? How? She sought his lips with hers and kissed him with silent urgency. All that she could not put into words lay in those deep raw kisses.

"I want to feel you," she said then and felt his muscles tense. He tossed away the damp towel and tugged at her jeans. She threw away her sweater and settled in his lap, his knees locked around her hips, and she kissed him slowly, her tongue sliding inside his mouth, teasing and exploring, her hands roaming his bareback.

They both gasped loudly as she slid over him, seeking each other with hungry hands.

"Open your eyes. I want to see you," she heard him say. He rocked her, his rhythm matching hers, back and forth. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and his arms circled her hips. Her moans drowned his groans. She breathed heavily, erratically. Nothing made sense. It was all a circle.

"Oh, God, Mulder," she panted, "oh, God." She buried her head in the crook of his neck, kissing the tendons there.

"Scully," he groaned her name and sped up his thrusts.

Her head swooned back suddenly, her mouth opened in abandon, and her body pressed hard into his.

She was coming. Waves of pleasure raked her bones mercilessly, making her hands seek his skin, his face. She wanted to make sure it was real.

She heard him call out her name, a soft plea that announced his release. He tensed and trembled in her arms.

They both collapsed on the bed, breathing hard. Spent now. He searched for her hand and squeezed it tightly, whispering words of love and comfort into her ear.

Tears fell down her cheeks silently.

She closed her eyes, and the night took her thoughts away.

TO BE CONTINUED.

"A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Then the two hearts beating each to each!"
― Robert Browning, Meeting at Night

You come to fetch me from my work tonight
When supper's on the table, and we'll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree.
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;)
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.
― Robert Frost, Putting in the Seed

"The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it."
― Ralph Waldo Emerson