A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Mincal14, I wish I could PM you to discuss further. I wrote two versions of the chapter you reviewed. If anyone wants to see the other version, PM me. You'll see why it doesn't quite fit into the X-Files style. It simply doesn't work, for me, to wrap things up and tie with a nice bow. ;) Keep the reviews coming! I'd love to discuss your thoughts on what I have going on here. It's fun!

Oh! And I hope you guys get a 'kick' out of Scully going briefly ape $h!t. :)


I don't know how long it took for the sound of someone knocking on my hotel room door to wake me up. By the sounds of it, whoever was on the other side was getting impatient. I glanced at the clock and let out a heavy, irritated sigh. It read 3:36. I stumbled to the door and all vestiges of sleep vanished when the distorted face in the peephole was matched with a name in my fogged head. I flung the door open, grabbed Alex Krycek by the shoulders and brought my knee up hard into his groin. He doubled over, but didn't go down to his knees, so I quickly sidestepped him, turned and shoved him into my room by attempting to ram my foot up his ass.

Krycek sprawled on the floor and I narrowly stopped myself from putting a well-placed kick in his ribs. Instead, I slammed the door and growled, "Get up, you rat faced son of a bitch." Krycek staggered to his feet, a hand to his affected parts and a murderous look on his face. I forestalled any venomous words that would have spilled from his mouth by shoving him hard into a chair and slapping him across the face hard enough that my palm and fingers burned with the impact. I was about to land a right hook on his jaw, intending to break it, when I realized he wasn't just not fighting back, he wasn't even defending himself.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded.

"I may be a lot of things, Scully, but I won't hit a pregnant woman. No matter how hard she kicks me in the ass. I know you're pissed..."

"Pissed?" I snapped. "Pissed doesn't begin to cover it, Krycek. You threw him out of a moving car, you could have killed him."

Krycek snorted and sneered. "I was defending myself. He was pretty intent on killing me. I couldn't risk him succeeding this time. You need to get him under control."

It was my turn to laugh, though I did so without any humor whatsoever. "Control Mulder? Are you delusional?"

"A man who knows he's going to be father tends to take fewer risks. I need you both to take fewer risks and stay the hell out of my way." Krycek pulled the container I had seen on his person from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. "It's a vaccine for a virus: an alien virus that turns men and women into fighting machines. As long as the colonizers have control of that virus and the people who are infected, they're damn near invincible. Several of my colleagues and I are charged with tracking down the abductees and administering the vaccine."

I took a syringe out of the clear plastic case and examined it under the lamp light. It was a transparent amber color and each tube was filled to 12cc. "I have questions and I expect answers."

Krycek nodded. "I'll tell you as much as I can. But first, how are you doing on tracking down those women?"

I took a syringe, wrapped it in a sock and put in my bag with no protest from Krycek. At a guess, I would have said, if I found a way to manufacture more, it wouldn't come amiss. "I should have information on their whereabouts in the morning. Who made this?" I handed him back the clear plastic case.

"It was already in the works when the Syndicate went down. The information survived and was utilized by a different group of scientists to finish the chemistry and manufacture it. I don't know their names. I only know that we're on the same side." Krycek put the case back in his pocket and stood, taking his time to wander over to the small desk and have a look around.

"Why wasn't Mulder infected with this virus? He was taken at the same time as Ray Hoese, why didn't he need the vaccine?" I had taken a seat on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. The adrenaline that coursed through me when I was intent on beating Krycek to a pulp was spent and its aftereffects made my dizzy and slightly nauseous.

Krycek sat opposite me, at the foot of the bed and ran his good hand through his jet hair, making it stand briefly in spikes. "You'll recall the incident last year that sent you running to the Ivory Coast and Mulder to the psych ward."

I nodded my head. Of course I remembered that. I had spent an ungodly amount of time on a remote beach fearing what I would find, fearing that I wouldn't find it in time, and fearing that at any minute the local population would string me up for violating something so obviously sacred. "I recall quite well," I said.

"It fundamentally changed him. They must have tried to infect him, but it failed. The only reason we were able to trade for him is because we were holding two of their scientists."

"Trade? As in prisoner exchange?" I asked.

"Exactly. Prisoners of war."

I let my head fall back against the wall and breathed slowly. The anomalous brain activity that had begun with Mulder's contact with writings that turned out to cover the skin of a washed up spacecraft had disappeared with his abduction. I had thought that something that was done to him was the cause of it if so, "why would they correct the brain disease that was killing him, if they had intended to infect him with this virus? Why would they save him?"

"If they left him alone and he learned to use his ability to read minds, he could use it against them. They know he'll fight against colonization, they couldn't take the risk of Mulder being able to listen in on their communications."

My mouth, unbecomingly, fell open in astonishment. "You're saying that, for the past year, Mulder has been able to read people's minds? If that were the case, there are countless dangerous situations that he would have avoided. Our cases would have been solved and closed immediately."

"It's not that simple, Scully. He gave himself injections that kept him functioning, kept him on his feet, and kept him from hearing every thought around him. He had become like your friend Gibson Praise, but his biology wasn't right for it. That's why it was killing him."

"Then why not let him die?" I certainly wasn't feeling overly charitable towards Mulder at that moment, but nonetheless had the same sinking feeling and ache in my chest at the thought of his death.

"Mulder's a wildcard. No one knows quite what to with him, but they know he may useful to either side of this war. He was useful to the colonizers, his release brought two scientists back to them. I think they know they won't be able to turn him, but he's a bargaining chip."

A pawn once again. Could Mulder not escape this undignified role? I was exhausted and Krycek hadn't yet given me any hope that this would end soon or that we could avoid any of the oncoming melee. So I continued my interrogation. "He must be useful to the rebels then. How?"

"His legacy," Krycek said simply. "The same reason I just saved Ray Hoese from becoming something different, something evil, a soldier for colonization. They both have very, very special children to raise."

...

Agent Doggett knocked on the door of 214 again the next morning. He straightened his tie and waited for his partner to open the door. He began to be concerned when she didn't answer after several rounds of knocking and waiting. Doggett checked his watch. 7:23. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Scully's number and turned in surprise when the ringing in his ear was matched by a digital sounding ring coming from down the hall behind him. Scully was approaching, Styrofoam cup of tea with the bag still in it in one hand, cell phone in the other and a giant bagel hanging out of her mouth.

She saw him, nodded awkwardly, checked the caller ID on her cell phone as Doggett was lowering his own and punching the END button. She pocketed the phone in her long black blazer and removed the bagel from her mouth enough to give him a cursory, "good morning, Agent Doggett." Shoving the bagel, it looked and smelled like cinnamon raisin, back in her mouth and fishing out her room key.

Once inside the small room, he got a better look at his partner. She had put on her usual minimalist make-up, but her eyelids seemed larger than usual and the sclera beneath had a definite red tinge. It looked like she had a long, rough night. Doggett noticed sheets that looked like MRI images, motioned to them and raised an eyebrow.

Scully finished chewing, swallowed and answered his look, "I finally got a look at the MRI of Mulder's arm. There's a tear here," she held up the film and indicated a circled area. "It's not a complete tear, so recovery time may be faster, but it still needs a stitch or two to prevent further damage."

Doggett didn't bother asking how she had gotten ahold of the images since he left her room late last night. His partner had obviously been up and at it much earlier that he had. He felt guilty and annoyed at himself. "You're the doc, Doc. When are they gonna do it?"

"He's in surgery now. It won't take long. He should be able to go home tomorrow." Scully took another bit of her bagel and went on, "I assume you got a call from Skinner? I've been sending his calls to voicemail."

Doggett put on a mocking shocked face. "Avoiding calls from your superior, Special Agent Scully?"

"Not taking the time for Kersch's latest bitch fit, Special Agent Doggett. What is it this time?"

Doggett smiled and took a seat in the small chair by the desk. "The Deputy Director would like to know why in hell we wasted our time finding Mulder if we intended to get him killed only two weeks after his return by taking him on a field investigation that's a waste of travel expense, Bureau overtime, and tax payers' dollars when we could have gotten all the information we needed over the phone." Doggett paused, took a deep dramatic breath. "Skinner then said that Deputy Director wants our 'asses on a plane back to D.C. today and in his office first thing in the morning on Monday to explain our little field trip. I think there might have been a word not suitable for polite company beginning with the letter F thrown in there a few times."

"We're under a microscope here, Agent Doggett. I haven't made any reports to Skinner or Kersch other than the general nature of the investigation as it pertains to Mulder's disappearance. He's passing judgment on information that he doesn't have. How is that possible? Have you been calling in reports?"

She hadn't said it in accusatory tone, only curiosity showed in her voice, but Doggett took a tiny bit of offense. "No, Agent Scully, you have the lead on these investigations, I don't make reports without you're 'okay' first."

Scully stood from her spot on the corner of the bed and went to Doggett. She stood close enough that he could smell the scent of her shampoo. It was intoxicating and it took all his reserve not to jump out of his skin when she placed a hand on his rigid shoulder.

"It's okay, John. I trust you. I know you wouldn't go behind my back."

He couldn't look at her, not at those big blue eyes looking on him with trust. Those eyes that had looked at him with burning ice when they had first met, had softened since to warm blue depths. The return of the ice queen would be a welcome chill to the heat of a flush that took him unawares. Still avoiding eye contact, Doggett stood and motioned toward the door.

"We should get going. We need to book a flight out of here and you probably want to check on Mulder."

...

Mulder was still in recovery when I arrived at the hospital, but I was able to briefly talk with the surgeon. The surgery had gone well, two stitches in the damaged tendon, and only a small surgical wound. They would hold him for another 24 hours to monitor him for anesthesia complications and infection. Beyond that, he'd need to see a physical therapist, of course. As many injuries as we both had sustained over the years, we practically had one on speed dial.

I was waiting in Mulder's room when they brought him back from recovery. He was understandably groggy, but his green eyes focused a bit more when he saw me. I gave him a brief rundown of what the surgeon had told me and a few cautions for moving the arm around. They wouldn't be able to put a cast on until the incision had begun healing so,

"You absolutely must not move it so far as is humanly possible." His gaze had begun to wander and cloud over. "Mulder? Are you hearing me?"

"Yeah, Scully. Humanly possible, got it." He paused for a few seconds, mouth open in an "O" that gave way to a leering grin. "You're pretty," Mulder said with a rather stupid look on his face.

"Thanks," I replied dryly.

"When can you take me home? I'm worried about my fish." He was practically drooling on himself, but God forbid anything come between him and his damn fish.

"You'll have to make your way home by yourself. But, they'll release you tomorrow, barring any complications."

The pouty look on his face was simultaneously annoying and endearing. I smiled down at him. "You'll do fine. I'll be in DC when you get back."

"Why can't you stay? You're my physician. It would irresponsible of you to leave me here. Don't you think?"

I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that his fuzzy headedness was put on for sympathy. People having a hard time coming out of anesthesia don't use deductive reasoning to their advantage.

"Agent Doggett and I are finished here for now. We have a meeting with Kersch in the morning and I have..." I trailed off not wanting to talk about my upcoming appointment. "and I have to feed your fish. I don't think they'll survive until your return."

Memories flooded my mind: going over to his apartment, ostensibly to feed the fish, while he was gone, and curling up on his ridiculous water bed with the scent of him still on the sheets. It had been a balm to my raw nerves.

"Right," Mulder said, matching my earlier dry tone. "What's he like?"

"Who?" I asked, forgetting that Mulder didn't remember his previous encounters with Agent Doggett."

"Dog-man. What's his angle? If he's trying to get up in the world, he landed in the wrong spot. If he's trying to get up your..."

A knock on the door sounded and Agent Doggett appeared, right on cue, yet again. Does he have some kind of sixth sense? I thought, irritated. Mulder was pulling his jealousy routine, an act I sorely disliked.

"Agent Mulder," Doggett nodded in the direction of the hospital bed. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Scully, but I've got Skinner on the line and he wants to talk with you."

I took the cell proffered cell from Agent Doggett and stepped out into the hallway.

...

Doggett made his way to the foot of the hospital bed Mulder occupied. He clearly noted the look of indifference that bordered on dislike that he was getting from the man.

"Surgery go okay for you?" He asked by way of conversation.

"Yeah, it went great. I'll be good as new in no time."

Doggett was having hard believing that the man he was talking to now was the same who shook his hand several days ago. This guy did not like him in the slightest. Doggett remembered Scully's demeanor upon her departure from Mulder the night before and started to have a distinctly pissy feeling toward Agent Fox Mulder.

"You know, I saw Scully last night after she left you. She wasn't in the greatest mood after your conversation." Doggett was baiting him. And Mulder bit.

"And what concern is it of yours, Agent Doggett? What happens between my partner and I is private."

Yeah, Doggett got the picture all right. "I'm not saying it's any of my business what the two of you talked about. But, I'd like for you to remember that she busted her ass and my balls trying to find you. She's been through a lot. Just keep that in mind, Agent Mulder."

Mulder's face hardened, his jaw muscles becoming pronounced and he practically spit with his next words. "And what keeps you up at night, Agent Doggett? Is it thoughts of your balls or Scully's ass?"

Doggett felt his own face go rigid and he leaned in menacingly, two hands gripping the foot of the bed. "I won't get into a pissing contest with you over the X-Files. That's your show. But, I will speak my mind when it comes to my partner. She leaves this room on the verge of tears again and you might need surgery on the other arm."

Spinning on his heel, military style, Doggett left the room with a swoosh of the door and a small bang as it hit the jam again.

Mulder sat staring after the man who had taken his place. He didn't like him, wasn't sure what he had done to earn Scully's good opinion of him. But, he thought, maybe, Agent Doggett would do a decent job of having Scully's back in and out of the field.

...

"Scully," I said into Doggett's cell phone. The Assistant Director's voice came through crackling, but clear enough.

"Agent Scully, there's a matter that requires your attention..."

I cut him off, "Sir, Agent Doggett has made me aware of the Deputy Director's opinions and I apologize for not answering my phone but..."

"Scully, we'll deal with you avoiding my calls later. You've got a reprieve from Kersch as well. You'll recall and agent that Doggett called in for assistance on Mulder's disappearance? A Monica Reyes?"

I was more than glad to avoid Kersch for however long the reprieve lasted and was surprised that we were hearing from Agent Reyes again. "Yes, sir, I remember her." She was hard to forget.

"She's requested assistance on a case she picked up out of the New Orleans field office. There's been a death that looks… ritualistic nature."

I was pacing a small piece of the hallway while listening and was a bit taken aback that she would request our help. "She's an expert in the occult, what does she need from us?"

Skinner cleared his throat and continued, "the NOPD's coroner is having trouble establishing a cause of death. The circumstances lend themselves to murder, but there isn't any evidence that points to it. Apparently, this person is mostly dead, they think."

My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Excuse me? Are you saying they have a murder victim, but the victim is only mostly dead?"

"There's some dispute, yes. The body was discovered three days ago, transported to the coroner's office, disappeared, and then found dead again. But, uh, well..." All his years in dealing Mulder's beyond weird cases, Skinner still had trouble wrapping his brain around things. But, then again, I was having trouble with this one too as Skinner continued to explain, "it seems the woman was killed differently the, uh, I guess the second time."

"Vampire," I said, unwittingly remembering Ronnie Strickland and his disappearing act. It's a wonder I didn't have nightmares about that case. Mulder had nearly gotten the FBI sued for an obscene amount of money and we had both been drugged into stupors that could have easily gotten us killed... or worse.

"Right, vampire. Glad you've got it nailed down already, Scully. Come home and pack your crucifix and your holy water. I'm booking flights for you and Agent Doggett for tomorrow morning."

I was on the verge of saying, "yeah, sure no problem." I was anxious to tell Mulder of the case. He wouldn't be able to go, but this was his favorite kind of strangeness. I couldn't not share it with him. But, I recalled my appointment for 2pm tomorrow and said instead, "Sir, I'm sorry, I can't leave early tomorrow."

Agent Doggett stepped out of Mulder's room in a hurry, thunder on his face. I rolled my eyes and turned away.

"I have an appointment that I can't miss tomorrow afternoon."

There was a silence that I considered longer than necessary on the other end. Finally, Skinner's voice crackled back to life. "Scully, if you're ready to call it and not go out in the field, I'll completely understand."

"No!" I said, louder than strictly necessary. "Sir," I began in a quieter tone. "Thank you, but I don't think we want to send Agent Doggett into Voodoo country looking for what may or may not be vampiric in nature. Book the flight for after 5 and I'll be on it."

There was another pronounced silence followed by a sigh. "Fine, one more thing, Dana. Is someone going with you tomorrow?"

I smiled into the phone. "Yes, my... Oh shit!"

Panic was evident in Skinner's voice, "What? What is it, Agent?"

"I forgot to call my mother back and tell her when my appointment is."

...

Mulder was sitting up much straighter in his narrow bed as I finished giving him a rundown of the case Agent Reyes had for us. As I had suspected he wasn't really feeling too terribly in after effects of anesthesia and surgery. He launched into a 'Fox Mulder's History of the Vampire' during which my eyes began glazing and I yawned hugely.

"Hey you might want to pay attention to this, Scully. I'm not going to be there this time." He indicated his injured arm and gave me a wide eyed look.

"If I'm not mistaken, it was me who discovered the presence of chloral hydrate in time to save your ass." I quirked an eyebrow at him and got the half smile response I was looking for.

"Yeah, well, you got drugged too," he replied in his best 11 year old boy tone.

"You need to rest. I'm going. Call me when you get back to DC so I can remind you of all the things you're not supposed to do while you're recovering. Okay?"

He nodded and I turned to go, but he caught my hand and turned me back toward him. With a now quite serious look and tone he said, "Be careful," and gave a nod at my midsection. "Vampire drugs probably aren't good for the kiddo."

"I'll be careful," I promised and leaned over his bed, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm not here to keep track of you."

Mulder gave me a wide impish grin and made a sloppy X across his heart with his index finger.