TWISTER

by Suzanne Bickerstaffe (ecksphile@earthlink.net)
and Carol Jenner (Agnt CJ@aol.com)
originally posted April 30, 1996

SUMMARY:	Mulder and Scully are drawn into investigating 
	a lethal meteorological phenomenon (and a chilling 
	conspiracy) by a woman from Mulder's past.

CLASSIFICATION:	X,S, Mulder/other (sorta), M/S UST

RATING:	Hmmmm.  Somewhere between PG-13 and R for language, 
	violence and brief scenes of an adult nature.

SPOILERS:	Hmmmm again.  This was written towards the end of 
	the third season (US) and is set in an alternate (though closely 
	parallel) universe.  References to any episode up to that time is 
	possible, but the action in this story is not dependent on having 
	seen them.

DISCLAIMER:	Mulder, Scully and Skinner are property of Ten 
	Thirteen Productions/Fox Network and Chris Carter.  They 
	were used deliberately and without permission, in the hopes 
	that CC is an understanding chap (all evidence to the contrary) 
	and will forgive us. The other characters and scenes are ours 
	and ours alone, but Chris Carter may borrow them any time he 
	likes as long as we get a screen credit.  Can't ask for fairer 
	than that, Chris.  May be copied and archived at will, as long as 
	the story remains unchanged, no one profits financially, and our 
	names remain attached as authors.


Any and all comments are welcome.  Enjoy the story.

TWISTER

Chapter One

Washington D.C.
Tuesday, February 13
8:30 a.m.


     Grasping her coffee and briefcase in one hand, Scully 
opened the door to the basement office she shared with her partner 
to find him leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, 
reading the headlines of the Washington Post.

     He glanced up, tension, fear and hope warring for pre-
eminence on his expressive face.  "There's been another one."

     "I know."  She put down her belongings on her desk and 
went to hang up her raincoat. "I saw it on CNN this morning as I was 
dressing. The video was terrifying."

     "Six, Scully.  This makes the sixth tornado to strike a
comparatively small area in just over three weeks."  He pushed up 
from his chair to hand her the newspaper.  As she scanned the 
article, he peered over her shoulder.  "Do you have any idea of the 
odds of that happening?  Especially at this time of year?"  His voice 
was tight with barely suppressed excitement.

     "No, Mr. Spock, what are the odds?"  Although her tone was 
as dry as dust, her eyes betrayed a spark of humor and relief.  
Mulder had been moping around for almost a month now. Inexplicably, 
there had been a slump in the kinds of cases to which their little 
department owed its existence.  There had been rumors that if things 
didn't pick up, the X-Files would be closed... not that those sorts 
of rumors were unusual. But this time the threat weighed upon both 
of them more heavily.  To make matters worse, as a result of the lack 
of more interesting work, the case audit which they had successfully 
postponed for a busy eighteen months could no longer be avoided.  
Scully had seen her partner, normally excited and enthusiastic in his
work, become bored and sulky as time (and the stacks of paperwork) 
went on and no case appeared to reprieve them.

     And then the South Dakota storms started.  First, there were
violent thunderstorms, themselves an anomaly from the kind of weather
the Midwest normally had in late winter.  But after a season of 
peculiar weather nationwide, the storms hardly merited notice, what
with the flood damage in the Pacific Northwest and the blizzards and
bone-chilling cold in the East.  The storms went on, however, 
becoming more severe until finally tornadoes were spawned.  The first 
tore up several hundred yards of prairie outside Capa.  Some livestock 
had been lost, some fencing destroyed, but due to the sparce 
population of the area, no human lives had been taken.  A few days 
later, Zeona suffered a tornado, a huge farm completely decimated in 
the process. Hundreds of head of cattle had been killed, but again, 
more by good fortune than anything else, people had been spared.  
After the third tornado struck, this one outside of Tuthill, the 
National Weather Service had begun to take note and sent some 
cyclone specialists to the area to take statements from witnesses.  
This tornado was different - it had killed three people.

     Apparently, the season of the year was not the only odd thing
about the tornadoes.  The witnesses interviewed were all life-long
residents of the area, who lived close to the land and were well-used
to scanning summer skies for signs of killer storms.  Their stories
all correlated - these tornadoes were bizarre for a number of reasons.
For one thing, only a single funnel cloud was formed, and it became a
full-fledged tornado without fail.  Normally, many more funnel clouds
developed than actually became organized enough to touch down and
cause severe damage.  Also, the movement of these cyclones was odd.
Rather than bouncing around, or touching down and cutting a path of
devastation, these tornadoes seemed to hover twenty five to fifty feet
over a small area for several minutes and then just disappeared - lost
their shape and power and just - stopped.  Finally, the damage done
was different.  As if to make up for the fact that the area of damage
was unusually small, the devastation was also uncommonly 
concentrated.  All tornadoes wreaked incredible devastation, as 
residents of cyclone-plagued areas had good reason to know.  But 
these tornadoes - it was as if they annihilated all biological life 
where they struck. The scenes looked more like ground zero in 
Hiroshima in August, 1945 than a weather disaster.

     "Look at this," Mulder said, pointing as he read.  " ...'The
behavior of the Hayes tornado appears to be a mirror image of the 
one that struck Chadron, Nebraska only three days ago, and the 
previous four which caused extensive damage outside Capa, Zeona, 
Tuthill and Belvidere in South Dakota.  "It's just a miracle that all 
these twisters have hit outside of the towns - otherwise we'd be 
stacking the bodies like cordwood" said Rapid City meteorologist 
Norman Jenkins.'...  I knew it, Scully - there IS something to this!"  
He went over to his desk and, digging under stacks of files, began to
pull out his own notes on the subject.

     Mulder had started his research into the weather phenomenon
after reading some of the statements taken by the NWS on the bizarre
nature of the cyclones.  With his partner's blessing, he had taken a
few breaks from the backlogged paperwork and had talked to Weather
Service, NASA and military representatives in Washington, trying to
find out as much as he could about the bizarre Midwest weather
patterns.  Even when the agent was swamped with work coming into his
office, he was always looking for new things to appease his mind's
constant demands for knowledge.  Now, with mental stimulation at a
virtual standstill and his working knowledge of the subject
uncharacteristically limited, he devoured printed material on
tornadoes and other severe storms.  While he hadn't discovered 
enough to form any theories, what he had read and heard certainly 
gave credence to his suspicion that there was something unnatural 
about the storms that begged for further investigation.

     "Mulder, you're a psychologist.  Right now you have to know
that you are displaying probably the greatest example of avoidance
behavior I've ever seen," Scully said, a smile playing at the corners
of her lips.  She went over to where he was sitting on the corner of
his desk and slid the notes out of his hands to peruse them herself.

     "I know that it appears that way, Scully.  And I won't deny
that anything right now looks pretty good compared to this... this La
Brea tar pit... of paperwork."  He grinned wryly, a lopsided,
self-effacing grin that he used with full knowledge of its effect on
his partner.  "But you *have* to admit that this is promising."

     "You think it's an X-File."

     He grasped his notes by the corners of the paper and tugged,
pulling her closer to him.  "I think it *could* be," he corrected
gently, seeking her eyes.

     "And your suspicion has nothing to do with the fact that we
haven't had a case in nearly a month and you're starting to get cabin
fever.  Well, I guess office fever would be more precise," she
replied, wrinkling her nose at the stacks which now seemed a 
permanent fixture on both their desks.  She sighed. "I don't blame 
you, Mulder. In fact, I share your suspicions, as well as your desire 
to get the hell out of this damned office.  But unless someone 
requests our services, I'm afraid we're stuck."  An expression of 
regret on her face, she trudged over to her desk, sat, and half-
heartedly opened the top file in the mountain of paper on her desk.

     Sighing, he put away his notes and did the same.

                         - - - - -

Two Days Later 

     The door clicked shut.  Still hunched over his desk, dutifully
pushing his pen across yet another form, Mulder murmured, "Okay,
Scully, I hope you remembered that it was your turn.  What did you get
us this morning - bagels or Danish?"

     "Well, neither, really."  A low throaty chuckle bubbled up
through perfect white teeth and full pink lips.  "Is that how you
greet an old friend - or have you forgotten me by now?"

     His head snapped up so fast he got dizzy.  "Candy?  Is that
you?"  He sprang up from his chair, almost stumbling over his feet in
his haste to reach the gorgeous creature who stood a few feet away.

     And she *was* gorgeous.  The tall willowy blond stood with
graceful ease just inside the room, clad in what would pass for a
business suit only in pages of the Victoria's Secret catalog.  The
scarlet of the silky fabric seemed to make her long, tousled hair
shimmer with light.  Her peaches and cream complexion covered perfect
bone structure.  Clear, moss green eyes crinkled at the corners as she
surveyed Mulder with amusement.  She stooped slightly to rest her
briefcase on the floor as he approached.  He grasped her hands as his
lips connected chastely with her cheek.  With a giggle she threw her
arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, her lips opening
enthusiastically beneath his.

     Almost as if fate were having a cosmic joke, Scully chose that
moment to walk in.

     "I can come back, if you'd rather," she offered drily.  She
tossed the waxed paper bag of pastries on her desk and, turning to
face them, leaned against it and crossed her arms in front of her.

     Mulder released the lovely woman from his arms and stepped
back a little guiltily.  "Uh. Oh...Scully.  This is an old friend.
Candace - Candy - McDermott. Candy, this is my partner, Dana Scully."
After a slow start, he was recovering nicely.  "Is it Dr. McDermott
now?"

     She nodded, her long tresses bouncing in a way Scully found
quite annoying.  "Yup, two years ago - I finally finished my
dissertation.  Hello, Dana.  It's nice to meet you."

     Candy offered her hand - a model's hand, with long, slimly-
sculptured fingers and perfectly manicured nails.  Scully grasped it
briefly, acutely aware of her own small, workmanlike hands and the
nail she had broken trying to unjam the stapler.

     "Nice to meet you, Dr. McDermott," she said, pleasantly but
coolly.

     "Oh, call me Candy, everyone does."

     I'll bet they do, Scully thought acidly.  "Candy, then.  Have 
you known Mulder long?"

     "Oh, we go way back, don't we, Scorpy?"  She looked gaily over
towards Mulder, who looked hopefully at the floor for a hole to open
up and swallow him.

     Scully's eyebrows rose into her hairline.  "Scorpy?"

     "Uh...a nickname.  I was born in October and... uh, Candy was 
interested in astrology at the time and so, uh...'Scorpy'... for... 
Scorpio," Mulder finished weakly, with a shrug.

     "Uh-huh.  And how far back is 'way back'?"

     Candy sat on Mulder's desk and crossed the long shapely legs
shown off so well by the very short skirt of her suit.  "Let's see - I
think I was in my first year of my doctoral program, so that would
make it eight years ago.  I was just starting at M.I.T., and Scorpy
was working out of the Boston office of the FBI at the time."

     Although he flinched slightly at the nickname, Mulder seemed
grateful for the opportunity to explain.  "I was still with the VCS,
finishing a case profiling the serial killer of prostitutes in the
Combat Zone.  There were a lot of complications with the prosecution
of the case, and it was decided it was more cost-effective for me to
stay in Boston, so I was there about four months. I bumped into Candy
in Harvard Square."

     "He came to my rescue!" she corrected.  "My purse was snatched
and it had just about everything I owned at the time in it.  I yelled,
and Sc- I mean, Mulder, heard me and grabbed the guy as he tried to
run past him.  Before I knew what was happening, the guy was on the
ground in handcuffs and Mulder was handing me my purse back.  After
the cops took the guy away, I treated for lunch at the Wursthaus and
we got to know each other better.  And we saw quite a bit of each
other after that."  She sent a glowing smile his way.

     Uh-huh.  "What brings you to Washington?" Scully asked.

     "Working on another doctorate?"  Mulder teased, glad to cut
short the trip down Memory Lane.  Scully's face had that polite,
frozen look he had come to associate with uncomfortable situations -
uncomfortable for both of them.

     Candy laughed gaily.  "After I nearly set the New England
endurance record for the longest time to complete a dissertation?  No
way. I learned my lesson - I'm too easily distracted."  She hopped
down from the desk and glided over to her briefcase.  Placing it on
Mulder's desk, she opened it and extracted a sheaf of papers, handing
them to the agent.  "Have you been following this?"

     He scanned them briefly.  "The South Dakota tornadoes?  Yes I
have, as a matter of fact."  He looked up from the papers to slide a
glance over toward Scully, who was looking suspicious.

     "As you know, I got my doctorate in meteorology. For the past
two years, I've been at the University of Kansas, teaching and
conducting research on the nature of cyclonic activity.  Do you by any
chance have a slide projector?"

     "Uh - yeah, just a sec."  As Mulder set up the projector,
Candy took a box of slides from her briefcase and slipped on a pair of
gold wire-rimmed glasses which did nothing to diminish her beauty.  He
inserted the slides in the machine and Scully turned off the lights.

     "As I was saying.  My research for my dissertation and my
post-doctoral study has been involved with tornadoes."  She clicked
the changer and a picture of a cyclone cutting its way through a town
was projected on the wall.  She looked at it, her face aglow with
almost religious fervor.  "Incredible - the power.  It's just awesome.
I've been studying the nature of these storms, with a view to trying
to harness them in some way for the production of electrical power,
killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.  Producing massive
amounts of electricity cleanly and cheaply, and at the same time
defusing the massive destructive potential."  She clicked the changer
again to show a cutaway diagram of a tornado.

     "I don' t know how much you know about tornadoes...,"
McDermott said, looking questioningly from one to the other.  "Not
much?  Well, it's a cinch you two didn't grow up in the Midwest or
South then. I'm from Kansas originally, where the summer was tornado
season.  Even without getting a degree, there's things that everyone
there learns by osmosis about tornadoes.  Simply stated, they're
produced by the same things that produce thunderstorms - great
vertical instability of the air at ground level, high humidity, and
then a horizontal motion of low-level winds followed by uplift.  It's
a storm of extremely low barometric pressure with an intense updraft
in the center - that's what sucks things up.  Meanwhile, the winds
around the vortex average about 300 miles an hour.  Small wonder why
so much damage is done when they touch down."  The changer clicked
again to reveal horrific pictures of tornado damage.  "These are
pictures of Xenia, Ohio some years back.  I think they speak for
themselves."  She shut off the projector and Scully flipped the
lightswitch.

     She took a seat and the others did the same.  "Now, tornadoes
can act unpredictably, don't get me wrong.  Just when you think you
know where they're going to pop up, they appear somewhere else. Just
when you think you can predict where they'll touch down, they start
bouncing around.  But in a way, it's a predictable sort of
unpredictability, if you know what I mean."  She looked around to see
if the agents were following her line of reasoning.

     "Yes, I see what you're getting at, but I don't quite see
where you're going with it," Scully said, frowning slightly.  She had
been surprised at McDermott's reasoning abilities and her obvious
knowledge of her subject, and had had to revise her previous dismissal
of the beautiful woman.  In a few minutes she had gone from 'ditz' to
object of grudging admiration.  But after Mulder's sudden interest in
this precise topic and his desire to escape the humdrum paperwork, his
partner was more than a little suspicious of the timing.

     Candy nodded.  "Okay.  What I'm getting at is this.  The
storms they've been having in South Dakota - they shouldn't be
happening.  Or at least they shouldn't be happening like they are
happening, because they can't happen.  At least not like they are.
Happening, that is.  In other words...."  She stopped, frustrated with
trying to express her thoughts.

     "You really haven't changed too much, have you?" kidded Mulder
gently.  "Okay, stop for a minute to let your mouth catch up to your
prodigious brain.  Take a few breaths."  This looked like an old
exercise between the two of them as Candy followed his instructions,
and visibly appeared to relax.  Scully could see the fondness in his
expression, hear the caring in his voice.  Whoever this woman was, she
obviously had once been very special to him.  And maybe still was.

     Candy flashed him a grateful smile.  "What I mean is...there
are some very unusual things going on with those tornadoes.  Things
that are unnatural, that I would have bet money were impossible until
they started happening up there."

     "We read about some of those things - the hovering and
disappearing, the unusual concentration of destruction, the time of
year, certainly," replied Mulder.  "Is there anything else?"

     "Oh, yeah, a LOT else," Candy answered grimly.  "Most
tornadoes follow a southwest to northeast course - at least, tornadoes
not spawned by hurricanes.  Take a look at this."  She handed Mulder 
a chart of the direction taken by the recent twisters.  There was no
such pattern.  In one case the path was due south, in one, due north,
in some cases due east, in others, it was northwest to southeast.
Only in Hayes was the path even remotely southwest to northeast.
Mulder looked at it wordlessly and passed it to Scully.  "And that's
not all.  I got in touch with some of the guys at UK in the
Engineering Department.  From the photographs of the damage done 
on certain identifiable materials such as concrete, metals, and 
different kinds of wood, they did some calculations.  They estimated 
that the forces which literally tore apart these materials meant that 
the vortex winds had to be well in excess of 450 miles per hour." She
passed the agents a file containing the close-up photographs of
destruction and pages of calculations.  Mulder flipped through, then
offered the file to Scully, who spent some time looking over the math
and physics, areas in which she felt much more secure than her
partner.  Then she looked up expectantly.

     "Why do I get the feeling you're saving the best for last?"
Scully said with a little smile.

     Candy regarded her with a little tilt to her head.  "You're
very intuitive.  You wouldn't be a Pisces, would you?  Anyway, yes, I
am saving the best for last," she responded.  "What is one of the few
things that almost everyone knows about tornadoes?  In the Northern
Hemisphere, the winds in a tornado always move in a counter-clockwise
direction - always.  But from the photographs and from the statements
of witnesses, all the evidence tells us that the winds in the South
Dakota and Nebraska tornadoes almost certainly moved clockwise!"

     There was silence in the little room.  If anything, Scully was
more taken aback than Mulder at this bombshell.  These were not only
killer storms, they were aberrations of science, freaks which existed
in defiance of physical law.

     "But how is that possible?" the diminutive agent questioned,
almost to herself.

     "How about it, Candy?"  Mulder asked quietly, frowning.  "Any
theories?"

     The meteorologist began packing up her slides and collecting
her papers.  "As a matter of fact, I do have a theory.  These things
cannot exist in nature.  As Dana pointed out, they are violations of
natural law."  She stopped to look at the two agents, trying to gauge
what she should say next.  She knew Mulder, knew a little of his past.
Scully was an unknown quantity.  She pushed her glasses further up 
her nose and resolutely continued.  "Therefore, the only possible
explanation for their existence is that they are not natural
occurences but rather, created."

     "Created?  Created by whom?" demanded Scully.  "This is simply
not possible by any technology that I know of."

     "Candy?  Are you saying what I think you're saying?"  Mulder
had tensed.  His tone was very quiet and deadly serious.

     "Oh, yes.  I believe I am," she said calmly.  "The ultimate
origin of these storms must certainly be extraterrestrial."

       	 	                 - - - - -

     How Scully held herself in check until after Dr. McDermott had
left she would never know.  She had been sorely tested for the past
month by mountains of tedious paperwork and a restless, grouchy
Mulder.  Next, she had been intimidated (and hated herself for it) by
the beautiful mystery woman from her partner's past.  Then, she had
been shaken by the apparent failure of scientific law.  And finally,
she had endured Candy's theory that aliens, or at the very least
technology created by aliens, were the root cause of the South 
Dakota tornadoes.

     She had said little in response, letting Mulder and Candy do
most of the talking, though her partner knew by her expression that
she would not remain so quiet when Candy left.  He had accepted the
meteorologist's invitation to dine and to 'catch up on old times' as
much to hasten her departure before Scully's inevitable explosion as
he did because he wanted to spend more time with her.  Well, almost 
as much.

     For some time after Dr. McDermott left, both agents busied
themselves in cleaning up the coffee cups, putting away the projector,
and avoiding the topic which was at the forefront of their minds.
Finally, Scully broke the tense silence.  "Alright, Mulder.  Tell me
the truth.  Did you put her up to this?"

     "Scully!  Of course not!", he cried in protest.  He tried not
very successfully to look hurt.  Then he looked at her frankly,
meeting her eyes, and his tone changed.  "Honest, Scully.  I haven't
seen Candy in almost five years, and I haven't even talked to her in
three.  I didn't set this up.  I won't deny I'll be glad to get out of
this office for a while and get my brain working again, but this is as
big a surprise to me as it is to you."

     She sighed and nodded.  "Okay, I believe you.  But we're not
out of here yet, we still have to get Skinner to agree."

     "Our services have been requested by no less than an
upstanding academic institution.  I don't know how he can say no."  
He caught her look.  "Well, okay, maybe he could say no.  Will you 
go plead our case?  He'll take it better from you."

     "Our case?  WHAT case, Mulder?  The one about pissed-off
aliens wiping out the Midwest using laser beams to create tornadoes?
Or the one about Evil Ultra-Secret Government Forces using alien
technology to spawn killer cyclones?  Which do YOU think will be more
persuasive to Skinner?"  She crossed her arms in front of her and
waited for his reply.

     Mulder threw himself into his chair and regarded his partner
from across the room.  With that flush to her cheeks and the fire
snapping in her eyes.... He shook himself from his daydream with a
slight upturn to his lips.  "Okay, I admit that Candy's theories are
not going to float Skinner's boat.  So how do you think you can sell
it?  Don't you think that there's something odd going on with the
storms?"

     Exasperated, she sat on the corner of his desk.  "Of course I
do.  I'm just not sure if we're the ones who should be investigating
the phenomena."

     "Who better than us?"

     "Who better than us?  Oooh, here's a radical thought, Mulder!
How about a team of meteorologists?  People who know what they're
doing in the subject."

     "Well, Candy's going, she's a meteorologist."

     "What do you mean, Candy's going?  What IS she to you, anyway,
Mulder?"  Scully demanded.

     "She's a friend - a close friend."  Mulder looked up
hopefully, but saw that his partner was not satisfied, and sighed.
"All right, you want the whole story?"  At her nod, he sighed and
began.

     "When I arrived in Boston to work on the Phelps case, I
was...kind of a mess.  The previous case - the abductions and murders
of black preschool children in the Chicago area - had been ...
emotionally draining, to say the least.  Somewhere someone decided
that the best thing would be for me to 'get back on my horse again'
immediately, I guess the theory being that if I immersed myself in
something else, I wouldn't have time to brood. Just as soon as we had
hunted down the sick creep in Chicago, I was driven to O'Hare and
packed off on a plane to Boston.  So I got there on no sleep and damn
little food in the previous forty-eight hours.  The first break I got
was twenty four hours later when I passed out, which the ASAC took as
a sign from God that it would be okay to give me the weekend off.  I
slept for the first day, then just got out and walked, revisiting old
haunts."

     "And you saved Candy's purse."

     "And I saved Candy's purse.  We got to talking over lunch.
She's really brilliant, Scully.  So many people have always taken her
at face value, thinking that she's an airheaded bimbo, but she's not."
He looked at her anxiously, as if it were important to him that she
believed him.

     "She certainly was convincing about her knowledge of
tornadoes, Mulder.  I don't doubt what you say," she replied softly.
She noted his appreciative expression, and relaxed to the tones of his
voice.

     "Candy looks like she's never seen a bad day, but in actuality
she hasn't had the best life.  She was an only child.  Her parents
died in an auto accident when she was in her early teens, and her
father's brother was given custody.  Her aunt tossed her out a year or
so later, when she thought that her husband was showing more than an
avuncular interest in the girl.  According to Candy, it was true, her
uncle was a letch and getting thrown out was probably the best thing
that could have happened to her.  By a weird series of events, her
plight was featured in the local newspaper, as well as the fact that
her IQ was somewhere in the 160 range.  She ended up being fostered by
a UK professor and her family, and things improved from that point
on."  He leaned back in his seat and crossed his hands behind his
head.

     "But she does have her quirks.  Candy's almost too smart.
Sometimes her brain races ahead of her mouth.  And she has the
shortest attention span of any adult I have ever met - in my
professional opinion, I would say pathologically short, a case of 
Attention Deficit Disorder if there ever was one.  The only thing 
that can hold her attention is her work - and even that has suffered 
from distractions.  For a scientist, she is curiously drawn to the 
mystical - auras, astrology, karma.  And she has always had a
deep and unquestioning belief in the existence of extraterrestrial
beings - even before she met me," he said, with a knowing curve 
to his lips. "She even believes she was abducted."  He sat forward 
and over steepled hands watched his partner closely for her reaction.

     She carefully kept her expression neutral.  "Do you think she
was?"

     Scully's come a long way, Mulder thought appreciatively.  He
smiled and shook his head.  "No.  Candy's imagination is legion.  I
think she just internalized an abduction story she saw on tv and
remembered it as her own experience.  But it does account for her
affinity to things 'not of this world'.

     "A short attention span can also wreak havok on a personal
life," his partner commented gently.

     Mulder looked up, catching his partner's eyes.  "Very
perceptive, Agent Scully."  He was silent for a while, and she gave
him the space to order his thoughts and decide what he wanted to 
share and what he didn't.  Finally, he said softly, "It was very, very 
good while it lasted, but even I didn't kid myself that it would last
forever.  But it was still...painful...when inevitably, I couldn't
hold her attention any more.  That time just about coincided with 
the conclusion of the case.  I left to return to Washington soon 
after."

     They were both quiet for a while.  Scully reached out to give
his hand a comforting squeeze, then slid off his desk.  Picking up the
file Candy had left, she flipped through it.  "It's getting late.
I'll look this over and decide the best way to approach Skinner, then
get up there and see him before he goes home for the night."

     "Thanks, Scully."  He stood and pulled on his suitcoat, then
his overcoat.  "I'll stop by the Gunmen on my way to Candy's hotel."

     He was almost out the door when he heard her voice, and
glanced back.

     "Mulder... be careful, okay?"  Her eyes mirrored concern.

     "I don't think I have anything to fear from Frohike, Scully."

     "It wasn't him I was talking about."



END of Chapter One



Chapter Two


Over South Dakota
Wednesday, February 14
Noon


     The drone of the jet's engines and the small amount of sleep
she had gotten the night before should have ensured that Scully would
have dozed off by this stage.  Unfortunately she remained as tense, 
worried and annoyed as she had been ever since Candace McDermott, 
Ph.D. had walked into their lives.

     After Mulder had left to see the Gunmen, she read over the
documents Candy had brought and went upstairs, catching Skinner as 
he was on his way out.  The A.D. had not been overwhelmed by the
evidence, in fact had agreed with Scully's initial reaction that there
were far better qualified people to be exploring the South Dakota
storms than his two problem agents.

     "We will have a meteorologist with us, sir," she reminded him.

     Skinner had looked at her speculatively, with eyes narrowed.
"And does Agent Mulder have any theories about the cause of these
tornadoes?"

     She was relieved that she could stick to the truth.  "Uh, not
really, sir.  He had been following them, had done some research, 
but hadn't yet arrived at any theories as to their cause. Then, Dr. 
McDermott contacted us and requested our help."

     "Does Dr. McDermott have any theories?"

     She was prepared for that one.  A half-truth would have to
suffice.  "Nothing concrete, sir, all pretty much guesswork at this
time.  That's why she wants our help."

     "And you don't feel I should be highly suspicious of the
coincidence here?  That someone comes along and asks Mulder to
investigate something he was researching on his own anyway? Not 
to mention that you two have a nice opportunity to avoid finishing 
your case audits?"  Head cocked to one side, he observed her 
reaction.

     "I can see how you might think that, sir," Scully said evenly.  
She shrugged.  "I admit, it's a hell of a coincidence. You're 
certainly free to believe what you want to believe.  But coincidence 
or not, it doesn't detract from the scientific data we have that says 
there is something very unusual about these storms.  And it doesn't 
detract from the fact that a high-ranking professor at a prestigious 
university has asked for our assistance."

     Skinner looked directly into her eyes and she returned his
stare calmly.  He hesitated, then seemed to arrive at a decision.
"All right, Agent Scully.  I'll approve this travel request.  You have
three days. If you have nothing definitive by that time, you both get
your asses on a plane back here, go down to your office, and don't
come out until those audits are finished. The clock starts ticking
tomorrow at eight a.m. sharp.  Have I made myself clear?"

     "Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."  Mulder, you owe me bigtime, she
thought.  He never would have bought it, coming from you.

     She had returned to her apartment and packed for what seemed
like the thousandth time since she joined the X-Files.  What does one
wear to an unnatural disaster, anyway?  She decided on pantsuits, as
well as some of her "trip to the woods" gear.  That done, she cleaned
out her fridge.  Still restless, she tried to call Mulder at his
apartment to let him know they definitely had the case, only to be
greeted by the usual terse message on his answering machine.  She
tried his cellular, only to find he had turned it off. There was just
one reason she could think of why he would turn off his cellular
phone.  She could count on one hand the number of times he had
excluded her like that.  And she could guess why he had this time.
The rest of the night had gone downhill from there.

     She looked across the aisle to where Mulder and Candy sat,
heads together, low laughter occasionally erupting from one or the
other.  When was the last time she had heard Mulder laugh like that?
Her face burned.  He was her friend, her partner, and she had no
claims on him beyond that.  But still she couldn't help but be stung
by an overwhelming sense of resentment. Where was Candy the last 
time that she had held Mulder, shaking and terrified, after one of 
his nightmares had woken them both from strange beds in a strange 
town? Where was Candy the last time she had kept him together with 
bandaids and prayer until she had gotten him to an emergency room?  
Finally, she let her eyes close, more to keep the hot, angry tears 
from spilling over than because of fatigue.  Moments later, her 
breathing evened and her hands relaxed on the armrests of her seat.

     Tired of conversation, Candy turned her attentions for the
moment to the scientific journal she had brought with her.  Mulder
looked over at his partner, relieved to see her dozing.  The dark
smudges under her eyes told him she hadn't slept, at least not enough
to count, and he felt more than partially responsible.  He knew that
Scully was feeling excluded, and once more he regretted having turned
off his cellular phone the previous night.  Then again, even if he
hadn't shut it off and Scully had called... well, she wouldn't have
been reassured.  It was just that he hadn't seen Candy in so long, 
and they had a lot of catching up to do and....  Who was he kidding?  
Last night was incredible, he was exhausted and his entire body ached
sweetly in remembrance.  Candy had even more imagination than he had
given her credit for.  But while the physical side was much more than
he had expected, the emotional side was much less - for both of them,
he surmised. He felt curiously empty, like he had dined on junk food.

     Again, he glanced over at Scully, noticing the slight glistening 
of moisture caught in her eyelashes.  He was going to have a lot of 
explaining to do.  He knew how stressed out she had been by Candy's 
arrival.  He never wanted to do anything that would put their 
relationship at risk, in fact had carefully and painfully avoided 
taking the steps that might put it at risk. At this point, it was the
foundation of their lives.  Well, at least he knew it was the best
part of his, and he hoped she felt the same.  They would have to find
a quiet time to talk, straighten things out.

     He thought about what he had heard at the Gunmen's place the
previous evening.  They too had been following the South Dakota
tornadoes, and some of their wilder surmises made Candy's sound 
almost tame.  They had split for favorites.  Langly and Frohike were 
on the side of alien technology as the cause of the storms, but Byers 
had put forward an extremely complex hypothesis based on some of 
the weather-control experiments of Nikola Tesla decades before that 
was almost convincing.  The guys had also given him some information 
of the topography of the region, and the names of a couple of contacts 
at the University of South Dakota at Rapid City.

     The seatbelt warning sounded.  Mulder leaned across the aisle
to carefully fasten Scully's seatbelt without waking her.  Let her
sleep a little while longer, she would be needing it.

                         	- - - - -

     As the three traveled along I-90 on their way to Hayes, the 
only sounds they heard were the tires on the road and themselves 
thinking.  The lack of meaningful conversation had been absolute 
since they had landed in Rapid City, at least on Scully's part. Candy 
had chattered on until finally even she lapsed into unaccustomed 
quiet when neither of the agents replied in more than monosyllables 
to her cheerful inanities. Scully, for her part, avoided her partner's 
anxious glances in her direction.  Paybacks were a bitch. 

    Actually, she was beginning to wonder if the papers had 
exaggerated just a tad.  The area looked untouched and unremarkable, 
considering the devastation that had been reported. Another storm 
had struck that morning in Belvidere, a small town on the way to 
Hayes. Mulder's suggestion that they stop and look around was met 
with the same stony silence but no objection.

     It was wasn't until he veered off the interstate and entered 
Belvidere proper that they saw the horrible devastation. Within a 
diameter of a hundred yards, nothing was left intact.  Buildings were 
in ruins. The wind was whistling as it went through the skeletal 
structures. Trees that would normally be standing proudly tall were 
uprooted or reduced to matchsticks.  For a hundreds of yards outside 
of ground zero, the trees left standing stood bare and bleak.

     Mulder pulled over to what probably had been a bank.

     "Why are you stopping?" inquired Scully.

     "I just want to have a look around," he murmured He got
out of the car, and Candy, who was in the back, joined him. Sighing, 
Scully got out, more because Candy did than because she really 
wanted to. Seeing the destruction reminded her of the time her family 
had visited Japan when she was a child, and they had toured Nagasaki.  
She shuddered slightly, more from the memory than the chill breeze 
that pulled at her coat.

     "Scully!" Mulder had to yell to get his voice through the
wind.  "You coming?"
     
     "No!  I'll stay here.  Let's not be too long, Mulder.  We have
to meet that Red Cross guy in Hayes.  The weather doesn't look like
it's going to hold, and there's still over an hour of driving left!"
     
     "What?"  Though he saw her lips moving, he barely heard the 
words.  
     
     "I SAID, DON'T BE- " Just then, the wind stopped and it became
deathly quiet. "TOO - too long.  We have to meet the Red Cross guy 
in Hayes and I want to be there before dark."  She looked at her 
watch. Though it read 2:00, it could easily have been dusk from the 
smudgy light only begrudgingly allowed through the clouds.
 
     "Agreed."  He nodded his head toward Candy and they went off
to where a small crowd gathered.  Scully slipped quietly back into 
the car and started to reread the X-File research that Mulder had 
studiously put together.

     The group was working to free a man that was trapped under a
beam that had fallen on him while he had been clearing debris. Mulder
and Candy walked over and stood with the crowd.

     "Poor bastard," they heard someone mutter to themselves.
"Poor S.O.B.'ll probably die anyway," proclaimed another.  Mulder 
understood their thoughts - shocked people trying to justify all of 
this to themselves, trying to make some sense of it.  Candy on 
the other hand, wasn't so forgiving.

     "How can you say that?"  she exclaimed.  "He is a fellow human
being!  You can't give up!  We have to do something!"

     A middle-aged man standing in front of her turned around. "Look, 
miss, they are doing something. Unless you know Superman, it doesn't 
look good."

     "Has someone tried to cut him out or use a lever?" asked
Mulder, trying to diffuse the situation.  Candy was not so subtly
reminding him of one of the many reasons why he shouldn't get 
involved with her again.

     "Yeah.  The problem is the beam is buried on both sides and a
lever just broke.  They're getting a torch now, but the garage was
hard hit as well."

     The agent nodded his understanding.  "How many storms have 
you had?"

     "Just the one.  We're lucky though, loss of life hasn't been
too bad - of course, they ain't dug everyone out yet."  The wind
picked up again.  "Hope they hurry with that torch, looks like we're
in for another." Mulder looked around and at the sky, particularly in
the direction of Hayes.

     "Come on, Candy."  He tugged at her arm.

     She turned shocked eyes on him. "We can't leave him!"

     "They'll get him out.  Our being here or not being here isn't 
going to make a damn bit of difference."  He turned and tapped the 
gentleman he was talking to earlier on the shoulder.  "Sir, we're on 
our way to Hayes.  It is my understanding there is a Red Cross Unit 
stationed there.  We'll send help when we get there."

     "Thank you, son, we'd appreciate that.  I'm sure Jim will free 
him, and Doc Sharpe's over there, just waitin'.  We'll be all right - 
if the weather holds."

     "Happy now?  Let's go."  He grabbed Candy's arm and directed her
toward the car.

     "Well, did you find anything?" asked Scully once they were
settled.

     "There was man trapped," exclaimed Candy, giving him a nasty
look that Scully couldn't fail to notice.

     "Are they able to get him out? Does he need medical attention?"  
Scully had her hand on the door, ready to join the rescuers, but her 
partner put a restraining hand on her arm.

     "He's under a beam.  They're going to have to cut him out 
before anyone can do anything. There'sa doctor there, and I said we 
would send someone from Hayes down here with supplies and so on."  
He turned the ignition key, and slowly drove down the road and away 
from the devastation.

     "How can you be so callous, Mulder?  How can you just stand by, 
and not even help, for God's sake? What's happened to you?"  Candy 
ranted and raved in the back seat.  

     Scully stifled a smile.  Mulder had done everything he could. 
They had to get to Hayes, and if they had tried to give help that 
wasn't needed, they could be stuck in the storm that was surely
brewing.  They couldn't do anything the townspeople of Belvidere
weren't already doing, and they had a time schedule to keep if they
wanted to finish this investigation by the deadline set by Skinner - an
investigation that they hoped would eventually save lives.
e, that he was confident of.

     About two hours later as they drove on Route 63, they saw no 
sign of the reported devastation.  However, the closer they got to 
the small town, the darker the skies became and more unfriendly
the weather appeared.

     After finally arriving in Hayes, the trio were directed to an
elementary school which doubled as the disaster shelter. Even though
the tornado had struck days earlier, the place was still absolute
chaos.  People were everywhere - milling around, trying to keep 
cranky children amused, assisting to prepare the meager supplies of 
food for the evening meal, laying on cots in the hallway.  Pictures the 
schoolchildren had made in art classes were half torn from the walls by 
the heedless wind and by the movement of scores of shocked survivors.
Mulder led the way into the gymnasium where row after row of cots 
were laid out in neat, depressing rows. Interspersed among the 
survivors there were several people wearing red vests, indicating 
they were with the Red Cross.

     "Excuse me," said Mulder, "Can you tell me where Christian
Myers is?"

     "Who?"  The red-vested youth looked up, annoyed.  The last
thing the young man needed was another interruption.

     "Christian Myers," repeated Scully, holding her ID open for 
the young man's perusal.

     "Chris?  Yeah, he's at the command center." The boy cut off any 
further questions by walking away, with four refugees trailing behind 
asking questions that for now had no answers.
  
     "Great. Where's the Command center?" murmured Scully.

     "Where Chris is," said Candy matter-of-factly.  She turned on
her heel and headed down a hallway off the gym.  Mulder and
Scully trailed behind not unlike the refugees behind the Red Cross 
volunteer. She went to a door marked Administrative Office, opened it, 
and in a voice that could not be ignored asked, "Is there a Chris 
Myers here?"

      "I'm Myers."  The tall, well-built man had his back to them, 
studying a county map on the wall. He didn't even turn around. 
"Look, whoever you are, find a cot, we should start serving hot 
food at around six o'clock and if you have any other needs or 
questions, see someone who is wearing a red vest."

     "Sir," Mulder pulled out his ID "My name is Mulder, I'm with
the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner Dana Scully,
and this is Candace McDermott.  May we have minute of your time,
please?"

     The man finally turned, peering at them unenthusiastically 
through red-rimmed eyes. Chris Myers looked about 20 years older 
than he really was. His grease- and soot-streaked blond hair was long 
overdue for a good shampoo, and he looked like he could sleep for a 
week.  "FBI?"

     "We're here investigating these tornadoes."

     "Since when are tornadoes outlawed?"  He grabbed a cup and
finished off his coffee, probably his twelth of the day.

     "Actually we are investigating the unusual nature of the
storms."

     "Unusual nature of the storms."  He rolled his eyes and turned
his back to them in disbelief.  "The FBI."  Trust the damn government
to send in the one department that could be of no use to him at all.
The National Guard might have helped - but the FBI?  He was tired of
having to fight tooth and nail to get any help for these people.
  
     Scully spoke gently, empathizing with his bone-deep exhaustion.  
"We were wondering if it would be all right if we toured the area and 
checked out the devastation for ourselves."
 
     "Yeah, okay," he turned around and started for the door.  "I
was going to do one last patrol before nightfall."

     "Oh, another thing," said Mulder, "We came through Belvidere.  
There was a man there, trapped in some debris. They needed tools 
to cut him out from under a beam.  I'm sure they have them out by 
now, but if you could spare someone to check it out, I'd be 
grateful."

     "Yeah, hold on."  He went into the gym, grabbed the youth they
had seen before and exchanged a few words with him.  He strode back
to join them.  "Marc will take care of it.  We'll take my Jeep."  It
wasn't a question.

     Scully and Candy sat together in the back and Mulder rode
shotgun.  "So since when does the FBI investigate the strange and
unusual?"  Chris asked.  His mood had lightened since leaving the
shelter.

     "Oh, a while now," said Mulder casually.

     "Really?  So is it true what they say about Hoover? Talk about
your strange and unusual!"  His head went back as he crowed with 
laughter. Catching Scully's non-amused expression in the rearview 
mirror, he self-consciously stopped mid-chortle. "Ah sorry, I guess
that's not something you people joke about.  No seriously, why the
interest in these storms?" 

     Mulder turned to look at Candy, Scully was looking at Mulder
and Candy was looking at Chris - all hoping someone would provide 
the answer to the question that any sane person should be asking.  
Chris continued, "If you don't mind my saying so, I personally think 
you're all nuts for coming out here."  

	Amen to that, Scully thought. Her knuckles showed white 
through her skin.  Though Chris maneuvered the vehicle like a pro, he 
was driving way too fast for the weather conditions.  It had begun to 
pour again and although they were in a four-wheel drive, the threat 
of hydroplaning was evident from the way they skidded on the curves.  

     "I thought we'd check out a remote farm. I had reports of some 
damage out here."  All of them were holding on for dear life as the 
vehicle careened around curves and was caught by blasts of wind.

     They reached the storm damage area abruptly.  The scenery 
wasn't much different than on the drive through Belvidere.  The trees 
were mangled, buildings were either rubble or soon to be piles of 
debris.  The sky wasn't inviting and the temperature was dropping 
rapidly.  Scully shivered.  Unexpectedly Chris plunged the Jeep 
through a small opening partially hidden by pine trees, and came to 
a sliding halt as one of the fallen conifers blocked their path. "Well 
folks, looks like we walk from here."

     Mulder was inspecting the tree, looking like he was about to
try to move it.  "Don't even think about it, Mulder. It weighs more 
than the Jeep. What, afraid to do a little walking?"  chided Scully.

     "No."  He waved her on ahead.

     Chris and Candy were walking together.  "So, ah... Candace, 
what is your purpose here?"

     "Call me Candy. I've been doing research on unusual weather
patterns in the United States and Canada. I came across these 
storms, which were more unusual than anything I had ever seen.  
I've known Mulder for a long time, and knew he was in the FBI, 
so I asked him to help me."

     "So what makes these so unusual?"  Mulder heard the 
question and strained to hear the answer, wondering how Chris was 
going to take the answer.

     "Well I have this theory that the cause is not of this 
world. Do you believe in extraterrestrials?"

     "You mean aliens?  No, of course not."  Overhearing the 
conversation, Scully smiled, glad she wasn't the only skeptic on the 
face of the earth.

     "You mean you never wondered if we are alone?"
     
     "Uh...  nope."  Chris had a look of amusement on his face.  He
sincerely hoped the FBI was a little more serious than this girl.
They walked silently till they came to the end of the drive.  Through 
the wind-swept rain, they spotted an old farm house that leaning 
drunkenly, and a barn that had been reduced to a pile of rubble.  
Chris stopped, put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "You - 
uh, Mulder is it?  Wanna come with me to inspect the house, while
the girls check out what's left of the barn over there?"  The agent 
fell into step by his side, an enigmatic expression on his face as 
he surveyed his partner. 'The girls' walked in silence over to the 
barn debris.  

     "So, uh - Mulder.... you buy that alien theory?"  Chris was 
smiling. Mulder doubted he wanted to hear his true answer.
  
     "Well, a good investigator looks at all possibilities," he 
replied, cautiously stepping over fallen beams, chunks of insulation 
and twisted strips of siding.  He decided to change the subject. 
"How come you don't have a dog for this kind of thing?"

     "A dog!  Shit, why didn't I thing of that?" He snickered, 
then continued more seriously, "They make terrible travel companions.  
Too much work. They need too much attention, too much time I 
don't have to give...."  He peered around. "I don't think we're going 
to find anybody. The owner said there probably wouldn't be anybody 
here."

     "So why did we come out here?" 

     "You said you wanted to tour the devastation didn't you?
Look, we'd better get going.  You want to call the girls? I'll go
back to the Jeep and get on the two-way and check in.  We've been 
tracking storms all day long. The weather sucks now, but even this 
may not hold.  There might be a lot worse to come."
     
     By the time the three made it back to the car, Chris was
talking to someone heatedly over the CB.  "Hayes weather station is
tracking weather movements in Cherry Creek.  They are similiar to
those before the storms.  If the pattern holds, it's going to get
worse before it's over.  If it's ever over."  That last part was
almost inaudible, but Scully heard it.

     "Are you expecting casualties? " asked Scully.

     "Very likely.  Like I said, it will get worse before long.  
We do have a window of time.  There'll be severe thunderstorms 
before the big one will hit."

     "I'm a medical doctor, if that's any help to you."  

     "Hold on. Hayes, come in."  A glimmer of hope appeared in
Myer's eyes.

     "Hayes here."

     "I found a doctor.  I want four other people to meet me at the
shelter.  Get the usual stuff ready."  He turned back to them, "Okay
kids, let's get moving, time is of the essence here."  Even speedier 
than before, they headed back toward town.

                       			- - - - -

     The wind had increased significantly when they reached 
Hayes. Scully and Myers went directly in to see how the workers 
were doing, getting together the supplies they'd need in Cherry Creek.
Candy and Mulder lagged behind, trying to decide whether to go
to Cherry Creek with Scully and Chris, or go on to Rapid City, 
establish a base of operations, and begin to check out their sources 
there in the morning.
  
     "I think we should go to Cherry Creek.  In terms of my research, 
this is the perfect time to go, when the storms are building." Candy 
stopped and faced Mulder.

     "Actually, I've been thinking," he said hesitantly, avoiding her 
eyes. "Scully's going to be exhausted and I'm sure you are too. The 
weather might do anything, including just fizzle out. I think the 
three of us would be better off checking into a hotel for the night."  
He pivoted to leave but she grabbed him by the arm.

     "But Mulder, we've got to go tonight. While everything is 
still there.  If there is another tornado, we may never be able to 
find any trace signatures. The survivors who aren't too shellshocked 
to even speak won't want to talk about it afterwards.  Besides, 
Chris said that the worse is yet to come.  I'm sure something's going 
to happen.  What's happened to you? Aren't you even the least bit 
curious?"  She paused to see if any her plea was reaching him. He was 
looking over her shoulder, his eyes wary, narrowed. She turned to see 
Scully speaking with Myers.

     "You might be right," he said distractedly.  "Wait here. I need 
to talk it over with Scully."  She dropped her hand as he strode away 
to join his partner.

     He found her in what looked to be a first grade classroom.
Ironically, the kids had been studying - of all things - weather, and
pictures of clouds and suns with happy faces were hung around the 
room.  He waited till she had finished instructing Myers' helpers 
which medical supplies to load into the Jeep, then tapped her on 
the shoulder.

     "What?  Oh - it's you.  What is it, Mulder?"

     "I think Candy and I are going to Cherry Creek along with you 
and Myers."

     "Just a minute there."  Myers entered the classroom from the 
hallway, where he had overheard Mulder's plan. "No way. You 
two would be better off here. Like I said, I've been through tornadoes 
in two of the towns already.  I'm telling you, the last thing we need 
is to have two more people than absolutely necessary running around 
out there risking life and limb."  He looked toward Scully, hoping she 
would plead the case for him.  "If she weren't a doctor, I'd be telling 
her the same thing.  But she is, and we need every medically trained 
person we can get. What we don't need is two more potential victims."

     "Chris, could you excuse us a minute,"  Scully asked quietly. 

     "Sure.  We leave in five minutes. The Jeep's out front. Don't be 
long."  He walked away, shaking his head.  He'd seen too many people 
chasing tornados cause trouble.  He would have enough to do - he 
didn't want to have to bail out the FBI guy and the blonde dingbat as 
well.

     "...Mulder, think about what you're saying.  You and Candy can
get any investigative evidence you need here, or go on to Rapid City
and start meeting our contacts there."

     "Scully, if these tornadoes are of an unusual nature, I think it
would be best if we were there when the 'big one' hits, don't you?  
Candy said she needs to be on the spot for her research."

     Her expression was doubtful at best. "I think if you asked her 
straight out, Mulder, you'd find that Hayes is close enough to the 
action for her to get the data she needs. No. Chris is right. I think 
it would be best if you two found us someplace to work from, a base 
camp.  You can talk to the survivors here if you need data."  She 
leaned closer to him and looked directly into his eyes.  "And I think 
you should start thinking with your head - the one on your shoulders!"  
Her eyes glittered with anger.  Bad enough for her partner to be over-
protective.  But she knew his decision to follow her and Chris to 
Cherry Creek wasn't entirely from a misguided sense of chivalry.

     Now he was angry.  His eyes narrowed.  "Why, Scully? So you
can be alone with Chris?  Maybe some paybacks?"

     Her words were in a furious, icy whisper."Mulder, I never said 
anything about this whole Candy thing.  I even backed you and went 
to Skinner to get us here.  But I won't have time for you when we are 
in Cherry Creek.  These aren't just thunderstorms.  Look at these 
people!"

     Mulder looked around and a slow flush stained his cheeks as he 
realized what a fool he was being. These people in the shelter were 
there because they no longer had homes. Many of them were moaning, 
in physical and emotional pain.

     He sighed. More softly, he said, "Alright, but keep in 
touch."

     "I will."  A touch of her hand on his arm, and she turned and
hurried out of the gym.

     Scully crawled into the passenger side of the Jeep.  "So 
is your partner coming?"  Chris asked.

     "No.  I think he's finally being reasonable."  He pulled 
the Jeep, closely followed by a white van with a red cross on the 
side, out of the parking lot and led the small caravan down the 
road toward Cherry Creek "How long will it take to get there?"

     "Oh, an hour or so, if the weather holds."  He looked over 
at his companion, noting her flushed complexion, the downturn 
of her lips, and the slight redness of her eyes, feeling a sharp pang 
of responsibility.  "Listen, it's not that I don't want your friends 
along, but I think that they could serve a more useful purpose 
somewhere else.  I don't want you to be worried about them, you'll be 
too busy. And I don't want to have to find them.  There's nothing 
more I hate than rescuing people from their own stupidity."

     "Do you do this for a living?"

     "Do what?"

     "Help people?"

     "Yeah.  I've been to the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew, LA
Earthquakes, and the San Francisco Earthquake."

     "Why?"

     "Why?  Why not?  These people need help, that's why.  I even
did time in the Peace Corps.  I may have a spare resume around if you
would like to see it."  His humor was similiar to Mulder's, and she
smiled.  At least the ride wouldn't be a total bore.


End of Chapter Two



Chapter Three

Cherry Creek, South Dakota
Wednesday
9:00 p.m.

     When they arrived in Cherry Creek, it was almost nine 
o'clock. Scully had been able to sleep some on the way, but Chris 
was totally exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed with fatigue. They went 
to the local police station to find out where they were setting up 
the emergency shelter.  Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled 
in the distance, but for now, the rain held off. There was a 
guarantee of worse to come.
  
     The police station was a bustle of activity. "Excuse me."

     "Yeah?" answered one of the deputies. He looked like he 
had, for the first time in years, way too much to do.

     "I'm Chris Myers with the Red Cross and this is Dr. Dana
Scully.  Could you tell me where the shelter is?"

     "Thank God you're here.  We were totally unprepared.  
Yeah, it's down at the end of town.  In the elementary school."

     "Where else.  Thanks."  He escorted Scully out into the
wind-swept air.  "Well, you have to say one thing about the cold 
war."

     "What's that?"  She had to yell to be heard over the crash 
of thunder.

     "People who were scared shitless of nuclear war built damn
good emergency shelters.  I just hope they aren't using the rations."

     "Rations?"

     "Oh yeah!  It use to be a law that these emeregency fall-
out shelters were stocked with rations.  The food is in all these 
green cans.  Very military.  Very horrible.  In fact, the food in 
most of these shelters outdated years ago. Oh, here we are."  
Myers didn't get a chance to finish his thoughts.  They walked 
into what looked like a clone of the Hayes school and found the 
Sheriff and some of his deputies.  Sandbags were stacked against 
one wall, and other emergency supplies were being carried in from 
trucks jockeying for position under the portico.

     "Sheriff, I'm Chris Myers from the Red Cross."

     "Hi. Ferris Johnson."  They shook hands.

     "Sheriff, what's with all the sandbags?"

     "Oh, those. Cheyenne's flooding."

     "Cheyenne?" asked Scully.

     "The river.  Usually not much more than a creek, but it's
flooding.  We have to sandbag the building.  And we've boarded up 
the windows.  You didn't by any chance bring a doctor with you?"  
He turned to Scully, then looked around for a more likely candidate.

     "As a matter fact I did.  Dana.  Sheriff Johnson, this is
Dr. Dana Scully, she's with the FBI."

     "FBI?"  There was a look of surprise on his face.

     "Sheriff," she extended her hand to greet him. "Are there
any injured?"

     "Actually, very few so far, but Miss Grayson got scared 
witless by a crash of thunder and took a fall.  She's the Old Maid 
of Cherry Creek.  Taught school here for forty-five years. Ralph?  
Ralph!"  At the sharp bark of his name, a man came around the 
corner, looking like he should work for the Mayberry P. D. instead 
of Cherry Creek.  "Take Dr.Scully to Miss Grayson's.  She refuses 
to come to the shelter."  Scully looked to Chris.

     "Sheriff, Dana and I can go out there.  I'm sure you need
Ralph here."  Scully knew Chris well enough to be able to hear the 
thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice. "I've dealt before with people who 
don't want to leave their homes, and I'm usually pretty good at 
talking them into seeing sense.  So where is this place, Ralph?"       

     "Actually, I want Ralph here to go.  Take them," Johnson
ordered, in a tone that invited no argument.  Ralph nodded his head 
glumly.  Scully almost felt sad for the deputy.  There was evidently 
some history between the sheriff and his sorry-looking assistant.
He led the way back out to the parking lot, starting his squad car 
and waiting until Chris had brought the Jeep up behind to follow him 
out to the old lady's place.

     Miss Grayson's house was quaint.  It so fitted Scully's 
image of what a retired maiden schoolteacher's home should be, she 
paradoxically almost doubted her eyes.  Ralph went up to the door 
first.  The air was getting colder and the wind was picking up, as the 
first drops of rain began to fall.

     "Miss Grayson, it's Ralph Johnson.  Miss Grayson!"  As 
soon as Scully heard his last name she understood the animosity 
between him and the sheriff - they were relatives.  Ralph opened 
the door.  Inside looked and smelled like a little old lady lived there, 
with lacy antimacassars on the Victorian sofa, and the scent 
of camomile tea pervading the cushions.   "Miss Grayson?"    

     They found the old woman on the floor in the kitchen next 
to a toppled stepladder.  "Miss Grayson!" Scully rushed over to 
check on the old woman, feeling for a pulse at her carotids, knowing 
she would find nothing as she touched the rapidly cooling skin. The 
men hovered nearby awaiting the prognosis.  She looked up from the 
woman's body. "I'm sorry.  She's dead. I could do CPR, but I really 
think it would be useless. She's been gone about an hour or two."

     "Are you sure?"  asked Ralph, white as a ghost and 
trembling.

     "I don't usually make a mistake about these things.  I'm 
sorry," Scully repeated mildly.  "Did you know her?"

     "Yeah... yeah.  She was one of my teachers.  Grades three 
through six. I'll... ah... go call the Sheriff. Excuse me."  He looked 
pale and shaky, like he lost his best friend. Or like he had never 
seen a dead body before.

     "Do you know how she died?" asked Chris.  He squatted down
next to Scully.

     "Not really.  An educated guess? I would say it was her
heart."  The sound of smashing glass had both of them on their feet
and flying down the hallway toward the sound.  A huge tree limb had
crashed through the living room picture window.  The once genteel
parlor was demolished, and the late schoolteacher's belongings were 
blowing all over the room, as the gaping hole in the wall let in the 
weather which was worsening by the minute.  Suddenly even the roar 
of the wind was overpowered by the insistant shriek of a siren.

     "What's that?" asked Scully.

     "A warning.  Someone probably spotted a funnel cloud.  Come
on, we've got to get down to the basement for shelter.  I'll go find
the deputy."  The lights flickered in the house.  "Find some candles
or flashlights or something.  Was there a gas stove in the kitchen?"

     Scully thought.  "No, electric."

     "Okay, we don't have to worry about that, anyway."  He 
opened the door and was buffetted by the wind and rain.
  
     Scully went into the kitchen and searched the drawers for
candles.  After thirty seconds of flickering, the lights finally went 
out for good, leaving her standing in the dark.  She tried to feel 
her way back toward the living room, using the flashes of lightning 
for illumination.

     "Dana! Dana!"  She saw a light come toward her. The thought
occurred to her that it was nice to have someone call her by her first
name.
  
     "Yeah. I'm over here."  Just then the windows imploded and the
walls began to vibrate.  She lost her balance.  It was as though the
house were rolling.  Images of Dorothy's house flying through the air
popped into her mind.  Not now, she chastised herself, for having such
a bizarre thought.  The wind was becoming deafening.  "Where's the
deputy?"

     "He should be right behind me."  Chris swung around with 
the flashlight but didn't see anything.  Pictures were swept from 
the wall to the floor, and the china plates that Miss Grayson had 
collected over the years and mounted with pride on the walls, 
crashed along with them.  But there was no deputy.
 
     "We have to find him!"  The house heaved and she fell into
him, knocking them both to the floor.  Unsteadily, they climbed to 
their feet, Chris taking her arm protectively  A second later, the 
sound of an oncoming freight train cut through the din of the wind 
and rain.  "A train?  Now? How the hell close to the tracks are 
we, anyway?  It sounds like it's on top of us!"

     "That's no train!  Come on!"  He dragged her toward a door 
in the kitchen.  "I hope this is the basement."  He opened it, and 
mops and brooms tumbled out onto him. "Shit!  Where's the damn 
basement?" He spied a small bathroom, and he set his jaw grimly. 
"Come on."
 
     "Don't we have to find a basement?"

     "No time.  This will have to do."  Inside was a small shower
stall.  He pushed her in first, then got in behind her.  "Normally I
don't do this on the first date, but.."  He pushed her down so they
were on the floor of the shower, and pulled the shower curtain 
securely around them.
  
     The storm was systematically destroying the house. The 
funnel cloud that descended on the little town uprooted the big 
oak tree out front, that Miss Grayson's grandfather planted 
when he first settled in South Dakota. The tree fell, its enormous 
limbs smashing in the front part of the house as it went down. The
roof blew off, taking flight into the sky like some huge black bat 
against the night.  Rain was falling in sheets inside the house, 
soaking everything in sight.  Through it all they remained at the 
bottom of the shower stall, Chris huddled protectively over her.

     When the horrible roaring had stopped and an unearthly
stillness had replaced it, Chris stood up, brushing away the shower 
curtain and the relatively few bits of broken glass that sprinkled it.  
He stepped out and offered a hand to Scully. "I hope you'll still 
respect me now," he joked shakily.  She just barely managed a weak 
smile in return.

     They left the bathroom and emerged onto a scene of
total devastation.  The house had literally collapsed on top of them.
Any way out was blocked by fallen beams, toppled furniture and 
roofing materials, so precariously balanced that the slightest 
breeze or misstep could cause a landslide of debris.  He picked up 
a cast iron pan and, returning to the bathroom, smashed the one 
window still intact.  "Looks like we're going to have to crawl out of 
here."  He took care of the jagged edges, then boosted Scully 
out of the window, following a second later.  They walked around 
to the front but the police car was nowhere to be found.  The wind-
whipped rain stung their faces.

     "I wonder where Ralph is?" shouted Scully over the wind.

     "I don't know."  I don't want to know, he thought.  They
started jogging down the middle of the street.  Every house on the
west side of the street, like Miss Grayson's, was destroyed, but the
houses on the east had only some minor wind damage.  Fortunately, 
unlike Miss Grayson, their occupants had all elected to go to the 
shelter before the tornado hit.  "Come on, let's get to the shelter."

     A two mile jog was the last thing Scully needed, after her 
bad night's sleep, the travel, the tension of the day and finally 
being in the middle of a tornado. She was completely exhausted,
and worried about Chris.  He hadn't had the opportunity she did to
sleep on the way to Cherry Creek, however brief that had been.  She 
wondered how he was holding together. 

    When they arrived at the shelter, there were bloodied people 
everywhere.  Evidently not everyone in town had made it to the 
shelter in time. The four guys that had come with them from Hayes 
had set up an emergency triage area.  Scully rolled up her sleeves
and jumped in.  Chris started directing the less seriously injured to
cots, handed out blankets and got himself another cup of coffee.
After getting everyone organized he went to work, helping Scully
start IV's and splint broken bones, treat for hypothermia and shock.
The storm outside still raged.

     And the injured and homeless kept coming in.  Some had been
hurt in the storm, others had been flooded out.  Volunteers had
stacked more sandbags by the doorways.  The power was at best iffy.

     "The river's going over the sandbags.  It's broken through!"
Scully darted out of the makeshift emergency room to none other than
Ralph running down the hall.  The S.O.B. must have driven off and 
left us, Scully thought, then her attention was caught by the sea of 
people swarming around her.

     Suddenly, she spotted Chris, talking to two rain-soaked men 
in the doorway.  "Chris." She grabbed his arms, her hands still in 
bloodied latex gloves. "What's going on?"

     "The Cheyenne has flooded - two-thirds of the town is
under water, and the rest will be if we can't stop it at the highest 
ground we can find.  I'm going out to help sandbag. You be okay 
here?"

     "But- !"

     "I know."  He put on a waterproof jacket, his eyes never 
leaving hers.  Suddenly his arm swept around her waist, pulling 
her close as his head bent low and his lips captured hers. "Wait 
for me." Then he dashed out the door with the rest of the volunteers.
 
     She stood there, stunned.  Admittedly, he was attractive - 
damned attractive. She even had feelings for him, unaccustomed 
feelings.  Lord knew she did not usually warm up to people quickly - 
especially stubborn, impetuous, Alpha males such as Chris. Maybe 
living through a tornado with someone did that to you, she ruminated. 
But....  She didn't know how to react.

     "Dr. Scully!  Dr. Scully, I can't find a pulse on Harry!"
She turned back to the treatment room.

               			~ ~ ~ 

     It seemed like hours before broken and bleeding evacuees 
stopped coming in. Sitting on a cot and clutching a styrofoam cup of 
bad coffee, she ached from head to toe and was more tired than she 
ever remembered being before.  Chris was nowhere to be found.  She 
heard rumors that the flooding was being contained, but they were 
fighting enormous odds, with the rain still coming down in torrents 
and the wind whipping the river into surfable breakers.  It must have 
been early morning but the sky was so relentlessly dark, she couldn't 
tell.

     After making her rounds to check on her patients, she
permitted herself a moment's rest.  She used her arm as a head rest
against the pile of sandbags, watching the rain pour down and the
lightning dance off the ceramic tiles of the hallway.  She had fallen 
into much needed sleep when there was a protracted roar, followed 
by a huge crash outside. Instinctively grabbing for her gun, she 
jumped up and ran to the door.

     "Another twister touched down, we need help!" a disembodied 
voice called.  "Some of the volunteers are trapped under the sand 
truck!"  Not thinking, she bolted out the door without her coat or 
medical pack.

     She followed the few able-bodied men left at the shelter 
down the drenched and litter-strewn streets, and heard herself
praying to God that Chris was okay. Her eyes were getting adjusted 
to the dim light from flickering flashlights when a nightmarish vision 
assailed her.  Fifty feet ahead, sandbags lay broken and scattered, 
torn from the makeshift wall constructed to keep back the river which 
was even now surging over in rhythmic waves.  And twenty feet beyond 
that, a dump truck carrying tons of sand had toppled over onto its 
side.  As she skidded to a halt by the side of the truck, she could 
see trapped under the truck the upper portion of a man's body, his 
face white, his limbs still.  Six feet away from him, surely too far 
away to belong to the same man, she saw a booted foot sticking 
out from under the truck.

     She saw Chris frantically trying to use an I-beam as a 
lever with several other men to lift the truck up enough to pull 
the two victims out from underneath.  He called for more help, as 
the truck moved inch by painful inch.  The wind and rain lashed 
at the rescuers, as if to add to their already nearly insurmountable 
task. "Go! Someone - get them out of there!" he yelled over the 
storm's fury.  At least ten men dashed to the truck to do his bidding, 
dragging the more visible man out, and straining in their efforts to 
get to the other.  Suddenly there was a scream of frustration from 
Chris as trembling limbs finally gave out, the lever slipped, and the 
rescuers scrambled back as the truck settled back onto its side with 
a crash.
  
     "Damn it!!  Fuck it all to hell!"  he cursed. "All right, one more 
time. Go!"  Again the rescuers risked life and limb, and finally 
dragged what was left of the second victim out from under the truck.
When the rescuers were clear, the exhausted men who had been 
holding the truck aloft on the lever dropped their burden thankfully.

     Scully reached down and felt for the pulse of the second 
victim - merely a formality, she knew. It didn't take a medical degree 
to note the crushed chest and skull and take a damn good guess.  
Silently, she turned to the other victim, now conscious and writhing 
in agony on the wet ground.  He was in severe pain, with multiple 
fractures of his legs and bruising of his lower ribcage, but he would 
live... assuming they could keep him out of shock and arrange 
transport to a hospital reasonably quickly.
  
     "Come on, we have to get him out of this."  Chris stood behind
her, and she could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck.  That
little bit of warmth served as a reminder that she had forgotten to
take a coat, and was soaked and freezing.  "Chris, come on."  He
walked over to check the man still pinned.  "We can't do anything for
him.  He's dead, and we will be too if we stand out here.  Come on!"

     "Fuck these storms!"  The events of the night, the lack of
sleep, everything was taking its toll.

     "Chris, standing out in the rain swearing isn't going to bring
the man back.  Let's go in, now!"  He agreed and allowed himself to be
pulled by Scully, who had a firm grip on his arm.  Once they were in
the shelter she started barking orders to the medical personnel.
Chris went over to talk to the Sheriff.

     There really wasn't much Scully could do for the man.  She set
his legs in splints, and wrapped his bruised ribs, and gave him
something for the pain.  She walked over to the makeshift command
post, and found Chris pouring over weather charts. The storm was
finally showing signs of subsiding.

     "Chris."  She was afraid to even speak to him, remembering how
angry he was earlier.  "Chris, you should change your clothes."  He
was dressed in the same clothes and looked still wet as though he went
back out there.  He looked up at here and adjusted his glasses.
  
     "Why, Dr. Scully!  Are you making a pass at me?"

     "No, I'm telling you to get out of those wet clothes.  Did you
bring anymore?"

     "Yeah.  I may even have something to fit you."  He reached
into his pockets of his jeans and pulled out his keys.  "I'll be right
back."  As soon as he was gone she turned to the Sheriff.

     "Has he eaten?"

     "No ma'am, nor has he slept.  He's phenomenal, after coming
back he went out and bagged some more."

     "How's the storm?"

     "Doing quite nicely.  I got a report that clouds are starting
to form over Sorum.  Myers is working on getting people there before
the storm hits.  Our storm on the other hand is showing signs of
letting up."  Chris came walking back in with a bag.

     "Okay, Dr. Scully."  He reached in and pulled out some jeans
and a sweatshirt.  "Take what you want, but leave the underwear - it's
mine."  He left to go change.  Scully just laughed and started going
through his bag, making sure not to touch the underwear.

     While Scully went to change Chris came back in and called the
Red Cross headquarters to make plans for Sorum.

     "What do you mean you can't spare more people?....  Look, I need 
those supplies!"
  
     Scully walked in and stood inconspicuously over by the
Sheriff.  "Now what is he doing?"

     "Talking with the Red Cross in Rapid City.  From the sound of
it they aren't going to help.  No big suprise really."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Well these towns are pretty small and mostly of Native
American descent.  Most people aren't in a too big of rush to help us.
Oh well, I suppose I should go out and see how things are in the
town.  There's a fresh pot of coffee over there on the counter and a
couple of containers with food.  May I make a suggestion?"

     "What?"

     "I'm not a doctor, but I think he should get some rest and
some food."  The sheriff put on his hat and slicker and left them
alone in the room.

     After a few minutes, Chris slammed the phone down and yelled
"Bastards!"

     "Chris."

     "Those fucking pricks say there's nothing they can do. They
don't have the funding.  It's all political bullshit.  They don't know
what's it like these people are suffering.  They need help...."

     "Chris, come on."  She had done this many times for Mulder 
when he was faced with apathy, or worse, for his work and his causes.  
She grabbed his shoulders and led him over to a small empty room that 
had a spare mattress leaning against the wall.  She pulled it down for 
him and grabbed a couple of blankets. "Come on, lay down. You need to
rest."  She pushed him down the on the mattress.  "Do you want me to
get you something to help you sleep?"

     "No."

     "Chris, I'm sure this situation is not hopeless.  Perhaps if
you went there and explained the situation...."

     He turned on his side and she thought she heard sniffling.
"No."  She layed down beside him and tried to comfort him.

     "Sshh it's going to be okay.  You just need some sleep."

     He was quiet for a while, then began to speak. "Just after
college I joined the Peace Corp, thinking that my degree in education
could help some people. I was posted to Malaysia, and there was this 
woman there whom I fell madly in love with. Her name was Meg, and 
she was another volunteer. I loved her so much."  She heard the pain 
in his voice as he reminisced.

     "Chris, you don't have to. It's okay."

     "They had a typhoon.  She was helping me save some kids when
the building fell down on top of her.  She was killed instantly."  He
rolled over and and faced her.  "She should have never been in there.
I wanted to save the children and I couldn't make her stay in the
shelter.  It's my fault that she died."

     Oh Mulder, where are you when I need you, thought Scully.
"Chris, it's not your fault.  I'm sure she wanted to be there as much
as you did.  You saved all those children.  You're just tired."

     Chris reached over and put his left arm under Scully and gave
her a warm passionate kiss, caressing her gently. It had been a long
time since a man had touched in such an intimate and affectionate way.
She lost herself in the moment, and returned the kiss with her body
and soul.  She let her hands roam over his body, as he touched her.
"Dana," he murmured.  

      At the same moment, she whispered, "Oh, Mulder!"

     Both startled, their eyes flew open.  Somehow she had expected
Mulder's voice.  What was she doing?  She pushed Chris off of her and
scrambled off the mattress.  "I...ah..."

     For Chris' part, he was stunned.  Mulder?  They were only
partners, he thought.  What the hell was going on in the FBI these
days?

     "Dana, I'm sorry. I.."

     "I'll get you something to help you sleep."  Face flaming, she
rushed from the room.

     Chris lay back on the mattress, angry for having told her
about Meg, angry at having given into his urgings brought on by the
fear and the loneliness.  Angry that a woman he was doing his best to
seduce would call out another man's name.  She returned a few minutes
later with a small pill and a glass of water.  They avoided each
other's eyes as wordlessly, he swallowed the pill and settled down.
     
     Scully flew out into the hallway where there were more people.
Most of them were refugees, rather than injured.  She found her jacket
and pulled out her cell phone and tried Mulder's number.  But instead
of her partner's voice heard a woman.  "We're sorry, but due to storms
in your area your call cannot be completed at this time.  Please try
again later."  She went over to the phone on the desk and tried that,
but the line was dead. "Damn it."

     "Problem, Agent Scully?"  The sheriff was standing in the
doorway.

     "Uh, no. I just can't reach my partner that's all.  The storm."

     "Is it an emergency?  I'm sure we could work something out
with dispatch."

     "No. No, no. Let's keep it open for emergencies. I just wanted
to see how things were going with him, that's all."

                   			      - - - - - 

Outside Rapid City, S.D.
Wednesday
9:30 p.m.

     "...I mean the karma was just entirely wrong, so I got another
extension on my dissertation - I think like the fifth or sixth - and
consulted a numerologist to get an auspicious date before finally
submitting it.  Wait a minute, why are you stopping?  What is this
place?"  Candy's elegant head turned and she peered out the car window
to view the building adjacent to the gravel parking lot they had just
turned into.  She blinked, hoping her eyes were playing tricks on her.
A shabby three story building, badly in need of paint, was perched
next to a silver, bullet-shaped diner of the old school.  Six
eighteen-wheelers shared the parking lot with them.

     "Hmmm?  Oh, we're going to stay here for the night - no point
going all the way back into the downtown area and fighting the
traffic."  He popped the trunk latch and got out to retrieve their
bags.  Candy scrambled to follow him.

     "WHAT traffic?  We're in South Dakota for God's sake, Mulder.
There's got to be a Hyatt or...or a Radisson, or...or even a Ramada up
the road.  This place is awful!"  She shuddered.  "I didn't realize
that the Bates Motel was part of a chain."

     Mulder pulled their two suitcases from the trunk, setting them
on the gravel, and patiently waited for the complaints to stop.  "I'm
here to protect you, so you don't have to worry about Norman slashing
you in the shower.  We're not looking for a vacation resort, Candy,
just a place to get something to eat and to sleep for the night.  This
place serves both purposes," he said logically.  "It has character.
Besides, they say the best food is served at truck stops."

     "'They' must all have ulcers and a circulatory system clogged
with grease.  Please, Mulder, can't we go just a little further?"

     "Look, Candy, I'm exhausted.  I've done enough driving for
tonight.  Besides, Chris recommended the place, I have Scully's bag
and I told her we'd meet them here tomorrow.  I can't get through to
Cherry Creek to tell her of any change in plans, so this is where
we'll stay for the night.  It's not forever, just one night.  Where's
your spirit of adventure?"

     She wrinkled her nose.  "It was never this spirited OR
adventuresome.  Come on, Scorpy, if you're too tired, I'll even
drive."

     "No way in hell!  I remember the one and only time I let you
drive.  We were both almost killed when you decided to make the
Callahan Tunnel a two-way road.  No, we're staying here.  Chris and
Scully will be meeting us here - the arrangement's been made, so it
would be stupid to move.  They need to be able to find us here.  You
know, you would do well to remember that Scully and Chris are
undoubtedly putting up with considerably poorer lodgings than we are
tonight."  He thought anxiously of his partner.  Twice he had tried to
phone and had not been able to get through.  Not for the first time he
wished that Scully was beside him, instead of Candy.  While undeniably
gorgeous and brilliant, she didn't have half his partner's character
and grace under pressure, he realized.  And he hated the thought that
he had left Scully right in the middle of Tornado Central.  He picked
up the bags and made his way into the motel, Candy following sulkily.

     Even Mulder had to admit that the desk clerk had more than a
passing resemblance to Anthony Perkins, but their room was clean and
surprisingly comfortable.  "See," he said, putting the bags on the
bed.  "All this and a full menu of XXX adult features in the comfort
and privacy of our own room."

     She shot him a look that he thought only Scully could give.
"Well, let's check out the diner, Mulder.  I'm famished.  And don't
blame me if I have indigestion so badly tonight that I can't fully
participate in your enjoyment of those movies."
          
     The greasy spoon lived up to its reputation.  A dieter's hell,
it nevertheless did a wonderful job on the comfort foods for which its
kind was famous.  Candy picked at a club sandwich while Mulder did
justice to a huge bowl of chili and several crusty rolls, and both
succumbed to the temptation of fresh hot homemade apple pie a la mode.
They strolled back to the room arm in arm.  As Mulder well knew,
Candy's short attention span fortunately limited the length of time
she spent being angry.  He had no sooner dialed up the first feature
of the night - "Naughty Nurses' Nightshift" - than Candy was on him.
He responded before she focused her attentions on something else.
Suddenly she broke away, a mischievous expression on her face.

     "Hey Scorpy, there's something I've always wanted to try...."

     His eyes widened as she told him her idea.  Even his
impressive video collection had not prepared him for this one. "I'm
not even sure that's physically possible...Oh!"

                    

End of Chapter Three


Chapter Four

Outside Rapid City, S.D.
Thursday
9:00 a.m.


	"Mulder, open up!  It's me, Scully."  

	Mulder rolled over sleepily. Funny, he had just been 
dreaming about his flame-haired partner - dreams she would no 
doubt kill him for if she ever suspected their content.  The fact 
that he could dream and fantasize without her knowing about it 
was probably the only thing that kept him from making the move 
that could end their partnership forever.  Or, perhaps, lead to 
another, more desirable conclusion....  He snuggled down into the 
covers, trying to concentrate on getting back to where the dream 
had left off....  

	"Mulder!  Come on!"

        "Hey, Lady, shut up!"  The muffled voice of a guest further
down the hall registered his complaint.

  	He suddenly realized that he wasn't dreaming about her - she
was here.  He lazily opened one eye, and found himself looking into 
Candy's face. His stomach dropped. Oh, sweet Jesus!  C'mon, Mulder!  
Think!  There must be a way you can explain this.  But try as he might, 
nothing sprang to his usually nimble and imaginative mind. 

	"Mulder!"  She was banging on the door now.  Using her fist. 
Not a good sign.

	"Mmmm.... Scorpy, what is it?" Candy drawled sleepily.

	Great.  Just what he needed. "Uh... Not what - who. Scully's 
here....  Just hold on a sec, Scully!"

	Quickly, he got up and went to the door. Just as he was about 
to open up, he realized he was naked.  "Scully, hold on a second. 
Just let me...."

	The banging stopped.  He looked at the clock and saw it was 
a little after nine A.M. He gave up his frantic search for his boxers in 
the untidy bedclothes and pulled another pair from his suitcase. He 
hopped on one foot and then the other, pulling the boxers on as he 
headed for the door. His hand was just reaching for the knob when 
Scully burst through, with Chris following close behind her.  

	"What took you so...."  When she saw Candy sitting on the bed 
and clad only in a sheet, she had her answer.  "Nice night?" she 
snarled.

	Chris stood in the doorway with Mulder, ogling Candy.  

	Candy giggled a little.  "Oops....  Excuse me while I dress."  
She went to the bathroom with the sheet trailing behind her, barely 
covering her.

	Mulder hoped Scully wouldn't make an issue of it.  After all,
he couldn't live a monk's existence.  They were only partners after all.
He kept thinking of all the possible things to justify what Scully had
seen, then gave up.  He was having a hard enough time justifying it to
himself.

	No one said anything till Candy came out of the bathroom. "I'm
starved," she said cheerfully, apparently oblivous to the little drama 
about to play itself out in front of her.

	"I bet you are," mumbled Scully under her breath.

	"Gee, uh... so am I," Chris said in the awkward silence. "I 
have to go into Rapid City. Care to join me, Candy? We can stop 
for breakfast on the way."  At that moment, all he wanted to do 
was get as far away as possible as fast as possible. Mulder might 
not have had any idea of the depth of his partner's feelings for him, 
but after last night, Chris certainly did. He was embarrassed for 
Scully, sorry for Mulder and entertaining decidedly lustful thoughts
for the delectable Candy.  All things considered, getting the hell out 
of there before the imminent explosion was the better part of valor.
  
	"Great!  Mulder, I'll see you later?" She walked over to him
and tried to kiss him, but he was turned toward Scully. In fact, he 
hadn't taken his eyes off her since she had stalked into the room. 
Knowing a brush-off when she saw one, she shrugged and left with 
Chris.  The door closed on their animated chatter.

	"Scully-"

	"Save it, Mulder." Her wall was up, her expression a stony 
facade. "Now, look... we have to do something about these storms- "

	"I think we should talk about it."

	"Oh, you do, do you?  Look, Mulder, we're partners. We aren't 
married.  You can bed down with whomever you choose."

	"Okay.  This is good, we're communicating."

	"No.  What we are doing is we are wasting time while tornadoes 
are devastating small communities all over this state.  People are 
dying, Mulder.  Of course, you've obviously been too busy to realize 
that."  She sat down at the table in the room, and started staring at 
the red blots on the map that he had made of all the places the storms 
had hit.

	He came over, crouched down and took her free hand, but she
tore it away. Sighing, he said softly, "Scully, I understand how you feel."

	"Do you?  Do you really?  'You understand'.... How could you?  
You've been far too busy..." She waved her hand at the bed, accidently 
flinging the map there.  "How could you possibly?  The people...."  
Tears welled up in her eyes, the last thing she wanted to have happen.

	As a psychologist, he had always hated that line, 'I understand 
how you feel'.  Truth of the matter was, he had no idea how she felt.  
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was now awake enough to realize 
what his own reaction would have been, if he had walked in on a 
similar scene. Slowly, he reached over and gathered her into his arms. 

	Hesitantly, as if she hated herself for doing it, but needed 
someone to hold on to too badly to stop herself, she threw her arms 
around his neck. Just having him close and smelling him was comforting 
to her.

	"Sshh, it will be all right."  He stroked her hair gently. 
"Scully, you look like you've been through hell, and I don't blame you 
at all for blowing up at me.  I'm a bastard, I deserve it, I deserve to 
be b...   What is it?"

	His partner was staring at the map where it had fallen on the 
bed. She tore herself away from him.

	"Mulder, look at this."

	"Scully, you're exhausted and upset. Maybe you'll feel better 
after you shower and change, and then we can talk this out." He tried 
to take the map from her but she turned and pulled from his reach.

	"No. Look!  The storms - they form a perfect arch!"  

	He stared at her and then stood closely at her side, reading 
the map over her shoulder.  He hadn't noticed before.  He had been 
using a chronological list of the storms, marking their touch-down 
points with red dots. But now that she had pointed it out, he couldn't 
understand why he hadn't seen it before. Or was that when Candy 
had...? Shaking the memory away, he gently took the map from 
her hands and laid it on the table. He found a ruler and began drawing 
lines through the towns that had suffered devastation. 

	"What are you doing?"

	"If our weather-making theory is correct, there has to be a
focal point," he murmured, putting the finishing touches to the map.
"There!"  The lines he had drawn radiated like the spokes of a wheel.
And there, where the lines all intersected, his index finger pointed. 
"Ellsworth Air Force Base."

	"Let's go!" She was halfway to the door.

	"Uh, Scully.... May I dress first?"

                         		- - - - -

	Chris escorted Candy to the diner adjacent to the hotel.  He
was thankful for the excuse to get out of the room.  Clearly, Dana 
was hurt and embarrassed at finding his present companion in bed 
with her partner.  It still stung a little when he thought of the 
previous night and the all-too-brief moment of passion he shared with 
the auburn-haired woman.  Now he knew there was something going on 
between the two agents. Even if they were unaware of it themselves.

	"So..." said Chris.  He was hoping to start a conversation -
anything to break the ice.

	"So, here we are."  She smiled back and gave him a patented
head toss.  "How was your ride over?"

	"Uneventful.  After being in Cherry Creek, anything would be
uneventful."

	"What can you tell me about the storms?"  

	He looked at her strangely - all of a sudden her voice sounded 
so... analytical.  For the first time he believed she might actually be 
a PhD in meteorology rather than just the weather girl at some 
backwoods television station. "I dunno. Just your typical cyclones."

	"No, think about it.  What I'm looking for is, was there 
anything different about them?  Unusual?"

	"You mean alien-like?" he laughed. "Didn't we have this 
conversation in Hayes?" 

	"Yes, and I do believe you find my little theory amusing."
She pouted prettily.

	He shrugged. "I don't find it amusing as much as I find 
it..."  He was searching for the right word to get his feelings across 
without offending her.

	"Idiotic?" she offered.

	"Well, I wouldn't go that far,"  he said sheepishly.

	She sighed.  "Why not, everybody else does," Candy said wryly,
and looked at him from under impossibly long lashes.  "But think about
it - it's late winter.  We should be up to our butts in snow, not 
having thunderstorms. And these storms have been of such an intensity, 
they are almost immeasurable by traditional methods.  I mean, think 
about it!"

	"So what does Agent Mulder think about all this?"  He took a  
bite of the bagel that had been set down before him.  He remembered
asking the tall agent his impression of the alient theory.  Mulder had
been uncharacteristically reticent about sharing his opinion, merely
saying 'I don't do impressions' in a deadpan that would have done
credit to an "Airplane" movie.

	"Well, you know...."

	"I don't suppose sleeping with him changed his mind any?"
     
	Candy's mood changed abruptly and she was about to lash back
at the overtired, overstressed emergency worker.  Then his expression
changed and he reached out to take her hand.  "Hey, look.  I'm sorry.
That was way out of line."

	Her look softened.  "He thinks like I do.  These storms are
unnatural and we have to get to the source. You and Dana had a tough
time in Cherry Creek, huh?"

	"Yeah.  Too bad she had to get back here.  I could use her 
help."

	She looked at him ingenuously. "I get the feeling you two got 
kind of close, yourselves.  Couldn't change her mind by sleeping with 
her?"  

	He almost choked on his coffee. "Okay, that was deserved," he 
said, when he could speak again. "Truce?"

	"Truce."  They exchanged smiles and instantly felt much more
comfortable.  As they finished breakfast, they continued to get to know 
each other, discovering they had both gone to the same university
and enjoyed the same kinds of music.  Finally they decided to face the
inevitable and go back to the hotel to rejoin Mulder and Scully.

	"Huh, I wonder where they are?" asked Candy, surveying the
empty room.

	"Well, there's no blood. I guess that's a good sign." Chris
glanced at his watch.  "Hey listen.  I have an idea.  I have to get to
headquarters in Rapid City and see if I can get some supplies.  You
wanna come along, since they ditched you?"

	"They didn't ditch me," Candy retorted. Well, they didn't. He 
wouldn't - SHE would.  Bitch.  Did she think she had some sort of a
claim on him or something? Then again, Mulder's ardor had been 
noticeably lacking in last night's proceedings. Certainly there was 
none of the enthusiasm she had remembered, or expected.  Maybe his
partner did have some sort of claim. That was something to think 
about. "Yeah, sure.  Why not?"

	                         		- - - - -

Outside Ellsworth AFB, S.D.
Thursday
11:30 a.m.

	"So Scully, how were things in Cherry Creek?"  Mulder 
noticed she had been unnaturally quiet since they set out. She had 
sat in the passenger seat, not speaking and barely taking notice of 
the landscape they drove through. The thought crossed his mind that 
she was thinking about Chris.There was something about Chris that 
Mulder didn't like, but he wasn't able to pin it down.  Perhaps it was 
his boyish good looks and good-humored charm, but Scully was 
definitely drawn to him, and for some unknown reason that really 
bothered him.

	"Hmm. What, Mulder?"

	"Earth to Scully. I asked how things were in Cherry Creek."

	"Eh...."

	"Eh?  Is that what you are going to put on the report? Eh."

	She sighed in annoyance, he was interupting her concentration.
"Hmm? Mulder, what are you talking about?  What report?"

	"The 302 to Skinner.  What's the matter?"

	"Oh nothing, I didn't sleep well. So how were things in Hayes?
You know, I appreciate your not following us to Cherry Creek."

	"Oh, the usual.  The storms definitely aren't natural.  And
you're welcome."

	"It's just that with the storm, I wouldn't have had time to
worry about you and there were so many injured and homeless."  

	Just knowing someone worried about him flattered him.  Under 
normal circumstances, he would have come back with a witty remark 
but he could see how tired she was. "Are you hungry?  I know you 
had barely enough time to get in the door, you probably didn't even 
stop to eat."  She nodded her affirmative response.  Mulder pulled over 
to a diner that was just outside the air base.  The Lone Gunmen once 
again had been able to come through with authorization to get them on 
the base.  But it would require a little undercover work to get the 
information that they needed.  Hopefully, some food would perk Scully 
up.  He went out of his way to be chivalrous to her.  Obviously, her 
experience in Cherry Creek had been a nightmare. He, too, felt the 
plight of those homeless in Hayes. And the reports he heard from the 
people in the Red Cross in Hayes weren't encouraging.  He knew about 
the money problems that Myers was facing. He was also aware that 
Cherry Creek was one of the harder hit communities.  Many of the 
outlying settlements were either destroyed by the storm or flooded.

	"There's a table."  Mulder directed her over to a booth by the
window that faced the base.  It was almost lunch time and it was
filling up fast.  "Do you want a cup of coffee?"  As soon as the
waitress came over he ordered two cups of coffee.  "What do you 
want to eat?"

	She flipped the menu over, "I'm not hungry. Get whatever you
want."
 
	"Scully," he reached over and put his hand on her arm.  "Are
you alright?"

	"Mulder, you should have seen what that storm was like. We
were trapped in a house that was ripped apart around us. Some 
houses were totally destroyed, those that weren't still had damage.  
The river swelled so fast they couldn't bag fast enough. A man died
because the wind was so strong it toppled over a dump truck."

	'We'. 'Us', thought Mulder. I should have been there with her.
"Shh... it's okay, Scully." 

	The anger in her voice rose as she talked about the sick and 
injured.  The poor people who had no homes and how no one was willing 
to help them, not even the government, and all the crap about funding 
being limited.  Mulder looked around to see if anyone had noticed.  
"Scully....  Dana, all right, I get the picture. I understand you're upset, 
but keep your voice down."

	"Mulder, we have to do something.  There is something on that
base that is causing those storms and I don't care if we have to
search all day - I'm going to find it."  She sat back and took a swallow 
of her coffee. Putting the cup back down with more force than she had 
intended, the liquid sloshed onto the table.

	"I think you've had enough caffeine for one day."  He smiled
at her and slid the cup to the side of the table.  For the first time
since rejoining her partner, she smiled back.

	"Are you Mulder?"  

	He turned to see a young man in his mid-twenties who was 
moving like he had ants in his pants and had singlehandedly cultivated 
the grunge movement among America's youth.

	"You are?"

	"I got a call from a guy. He told me to look you up. Can I
sit?"  Mulder slid over for the young man to sit down. "This is Dana 
Scully. Who's this 'guy' you got a call from?"

	"Last night.  I don't know how the heck he knew me or knew
where I'd be.  He just said he knew that I knew some things about the
storms, and I should get in touch with a 'Mr. Mulder'.  And he said we
had both better watch our backs."

	Mulder thought for a second.  A friend at the FBI?  An old
friend?  Or an enemy, setting them up?  "What did the voice sound
like?" he asked.  The sharpness of his tone drew Scully's attention.

	The kid looked at him, puzzled.  "How should I know - it was
just a voice, man."

	The agent tried to keep his patience.  "Was it a deep voice?
Did it sound like a black man's voice?  Any accent? Young or old?  
You must have noticed something about it."

	"Oh.  Well, didn't sound like a black dude. Not young, but 
not real old, either. I dunno, just a voice.  Maybe kinda classy... 
educated, like."

	Mulder sighed.  "Okay.  What else did he say?"

	"Just that he said I should talk to you about some of the
stuff I've seen around here, and maybe what's causing the storms.  I
think he called it a theory."

	"Which theory would that be?"  Scully's anger resurfaced.

	"You know, the one about aliens."

	Her temper, forged by the events in Cherry Creek and tested 
by finding her partner in bed with a gorgeous woman, finally snapped.
"Look... sir.... I don't know who you are or what you want, so unless 
you can help us with some facts rather than this foolishness- "

	Scully was interrupted by the waitress.

	"Can I get you folks something to eat, or what?"

	"Uh, Scully?" Mulder waved his hand to let her go first, as
sort of a peace offering.

	"I'll have the special, whatever it is."

	"I'll have the same."  

	"And you, kid, you want something?"

	"A Coke?"  

	The waitress snapped her gum and walked away.

	Scully eyed the young man with obvious distaste. "You have 
a name - kid?" 

	"Uh... W-willie?"  The female agent was being confrontational and 
it wasn't something he was use to. She was making him nervous, rattled.

	"Are you asking us or telling us?" she shot back.

	"Uh... Willie, will you please excuse us for a moment? I'd like 
to have a word with my partner." At Mulder's gesture, the young man slid 
out to allow him to pass.  His hand at the small of her back, he walked 
with her towards the restrooms and stopped. "Listen, I understand 
you've been through a lot and I know- "  she was going to retort but he 
put a stop to it by holding up a hand  " -and I know, you're tired and 
stressed. But you will act like a professional and treat people with 
respect, no matter how crazy they appear.  Granted this alien thing 
is way out there, I'll give you that. But I think we have to talk to 
this guy. You go into that restroom and do whatever it is you have to 
do, but get your feelings in line.  Got it?"

	Scully pulled away from him and glared. "Got it." She turned 
and stormed into the bathroom.

	Mulder walked back over to the table and sat down in Scully's
spot. "I apologize for my partner.  She's been treating the injured
in Cherry Creek, and she's exhausted and over-sensitive right now."

	The kid gave him a knowing look. "Hey, man,  I understand. 
I've got two sisters at home, and when they're PMS'ing, watch out."  
The kid's grin faltered when Mulder failed to smile back.
 
	"So you have some info on the storms."  He caught Willie in
mid-swallow. 

	"Oh... yeah. Yeah, see, me and some of my friends, we did 
some alien watching and stuff, you know?  Well, we were out here... 
oh, about a month ago- "  He stopped as soon as he saw Scully 
approach the table.  Mulder had taken her seat so he slid over to 
let her in.

	"Feel better?" he whispered.

	"Yes, some."  Her tone was still rather chilly, but she at 
least seemed in control.  His hand covered hers for an instant and 
then was gone.

	"Willie here was about to tell us....  About a month ago...?"

	"Yeah, ya see, we were watching some funky clouds out in the
Badlands. At first I thought it was because we were, like, on sacred
Indian ground, but these lights just zoomed by us.  It was most
unnatural."

	"What did these lights do?" 

	"They zoomed around and then, like, turned really really quickly,
see?"  He tried to recreate the motions in with hands.  "Most awesome.
Anyway, after they left, the clouds started changing and it got really
really stormy.  These Indian people we ran into said something but I
don't remember what it was.  Anyway, it was most unnatural.  Most."

	Scully sat there and looked at the boy, then looked at Mulder.
"Were you kids by any chance drinking or anything?"  The kid blushed.  
"That's what I thought.  Come on, Mulder, let's go."

	"Can't we eat first?  I think you should eat something."  

	With an exaggerated sigh, she sat back down and started to eat.  
Once again he was right.  That's another thing that bothered her.

	A few tables away from the odd trio, the waitress stopped. 
"Do you want some dessert with that, sir, or will that be all?"  The 
guy looked like he might be a good tipper, few and far between in 
this place.

     "No thanks, just the check."  The waitress anticipated the
gentleman's response and laid the check on the table. The man
in his late 50's quickly paid the cashier and left the restaurant.  He
stopped at the pay phone that was just outside the door. "Yeah, 
it's me, Cromwell.  They're here....  What do you mean, who?  The 
FBI people.  Looks like they are talking with some local punk about 
aliens....  Yeah, I understand....  Yeah....  Well, it looks like they're 
heading over to the base. You tell Harrison. I'll take care of the kid."  
Hanging up the phone, he lit a cigarette and waited for Willie to 
come out.

	"There, are you satisfied?"  Scully finished half her sandwich and 
pushed the plate away.

	"Yeah, fine.  Listen, Willie, do you have any more information
you can tell us about the base and what's going on here?"

	"Nah, man.  I know we occasionally see lights moving around,
like the ones in the Badlands.  I just know something's going on
there. Well, I gotta split. Hey, thanks for the Coke."  He got up and 
left the restaurant.

	"Ready now, Mulder?  Let's just get to the base.  Pay the
check and let's go."  She got up, grabbed her coat and waited for him
to take care of the check at the cashier's stand by the door.  Out of
the corner of her eye she spied Willie getting into an unmarked car
with a man who looked suspiciously like the one who had been a few
booths down from them.

	"Ready?"  Mulder was sliding his wallet back into his pocket.

	"Mulder, Willie is getting into that car over there."  She 
pointed through the glass doors of the diner.

	Her partner pushed through the door and ran after the car, 
reaching for his service weapon as he did so. The driver, seeing Mulder 
burst out of the restaurant, drove off with a squeal of burned rubber.

	"See, I told you he couldn't be trusted."

	He knew she was tired and emotionally strung out.  But the 
smugness in her tone irritated him. He tried to quell his temper before 
responding. "I'm sure there's a rational explanation. Did it ever cross 
your mind that maybe he didn't go entirely voluntarily?  Let's just get
to the base and find out what the hell is going on."

	Somewhat chastened, Scully followed him to the car. 'Rational
explanation' were two words she never thought she'd hear from him 
when aliens were involved.

	After some tense moments at the gate trying to get through
with their forged passes, Mulder and Scully were shown to the base
director's office. When they walked in, there was a bustle of activity.
The overworked airman, doubling as the secretary of the day, was 
brusque at best.  "Wait here.  The Colonel will be with you shortly."

	They took a seat on the sofa near the coffee machine. "So 
Scully, can I buy you a cup of coffee?" 

	"I thought you shut me off."  She sank down into the naugahyde 
of the sofa and listlessly leafed through some magazines dedicated to 
military aircraft.  After almost an hour of silence and clock watching, 
she had had enough waiting and wanted some action.  

	"Mulder," she leaned over and whispered. "It looks like they're 
stalling until we just go away.  Why don't we go exploring?

	Before he had a chance to answer, the airman answered a buzz
on his telephone and announced, "Colonel Richardson will see you now.
You have exactly five minutes of his time."  He directed them to the 
door across the room. 

	They entered the office, to see a man in his late fifties sitting 
behind the desk. "I'm Colonel Richardson, what can I do for you?"

	"I'm Agent Dana Scully, this is my partner Fox Mulder.  We're
with the FBI."  She flashed her ID.  "We're here investigating the
strange weather phenomena this region seems to be experiencing."

	Richardson sighed and looked disgusted. "And how can the 
Air Force assist the F-B-I?"  He leaned back in his chair, managing 
to look both insolent and apathetic.

	"Sir,"  Mulder stepped forward to address the Colonel, "We're
here investigating the storms that have struck this area in the past
few weeks."

	"Storms?  Since when does the FBI investigate storms?  You got
a hurricane on your Ten Most Wanted list, boy?"  He laughed derisively.

	"What my partner is trying to say,sir," explained Scully,  "is that
we believe that the storms are being created."

	"What are you basing this on, may I ask?"

	"Sir," interjected Mulder, "It is a well known fact that the Air
Force has conducted weather experiments in the past.

	"Agent Mulder, the FBI teach you something called the facts?
First of all, if it is a well known fact, then how come I don't know
about it?  Second, you two are wasting my time.  I'll be sure to
compliment Mizz Reno on her crack staff next time I'm in Washington. 
Enjoy your stay in South Dakota. Now, get out of my office and stop 
wasting my time."

	Scully was going to argue their case longer but Mulder put his
arm to her back and directed her out.  Once they were outside, she
spluttered, "Mulder, we learned nothing from this! Maybe if we had 
stayed, we could have- "

	"Scully...."  He paused, almost biting his tongue rather than 
saying what he wanted to. He sighed. "Just get in the car."

	"Mulder!" 

	"In the car, Scully! Now!"  

	Richardson watched the two of them get in their car from the
slit between the window blinds.  After he was sure they were on their 
way, he went over to his phone. "Major Harrison, I think it would be 
best, in the interest of National Security of course, that we detain 
those two agents. Take care of them, understand?"

	Mulder pulled out of the parking space. She was still fuming 
over their meeting with Colonel, and her partner's 
uncharacteristically mild response to it. "Scully, listen to me.  He
said we had to leave the base, but he didn't say we couldn't get lost.
I noticed some unmarked buildings on the map in Richardson's office.
Let's say we drive by, okay?"

	He turned down several different streets and after a few more
turns she was convinced he truly was lost. At least she was. She had
the map of the base on her lap but couldn't follow the many twists and
turns he was making.  Finally they came to an open field and there was
a building in the middle of it.

	"I think we should ask for directions, don't you?" she asked.  
Mulder gave her an approving smile.  Over time they both had come to 
realize that sometimes you have to make your own rules when it comes 
to the truth.

	He pulled up close to a door.  The building looked more like a
hangar than a place that would be conducting alien weather experiments.  
As soon as they got out of the car, two MP jeeps and a car came 
barrelling down the road.  "Looks like we have company."  

	Scully reached into the car and pulled out the map.

	The vehicles came to a screeching halt. "Hold it right there!"
shouted one of the MPs.

	"Look, we're lost."  She waved the map.  "We must have taken 
a wrong turn when trying to leave the base.  You don't happen to 
know- "  One of the MPs came over and ripped the map from her hands,
letting it be carried off in a sudden gust of wind.  They stripped the 
pair of their service weapons and ordered them into one of the Jeeps.

	"Looks like another fine mess we've gotten ourselves into,"
muttered Scully.


End of Chapter Four                

Chapter Five

Outside Rapid City
Thursday
10:00 a.m.

     Chris was driving along the interstate when he remembered the
men from that morning.

      "By the way, do you happen to know anything about military
interest in weather?"

     "Huh?  Why ask me?"

     "You work for the National Weather Service or something like
that, don't you?"

     "Well, more precisely, I work with them, rather than for them.
And no, I have no idea why the military would be interested.  Why do
you ask?"  Candy remembered Mulder talking about his problems finding
his sister and how the government was blocking him at every turn.

     "Oh, I met some men this morning who said they were with the
National Weather Service or something, but I overheard them 
addressing one man as "sir". They even slipped once and called him 
Colonel. Now, unless the NWS has gotten a lot more formal, they
obviously were not who they said they were.  And this one guy I 
talked to was really evasive."

     "Well, that's interesting.  You know, you may want to re-think
that alien angle."

     "Yeah. Right,"  he muttered under his breath.

     "I heard that!"  She giggled, reducing the tension between the
two of them.  She was starting to think of him on more friendly terms.
Chris turned to her and gave her a big smile.

     Fifteen minutes later, Chris and Candy pulled into the parking
ramp and took the elevator to the Red Cross office.

     "I'm here to see the director."  He said the receptionist.

     "Do you have an appointment?"

     "No.  Do I need one?"

     "Look.  Everyone needs an appointment."  She acted like a
mother cat protecting her kittens.
 
     "Who do I see about getting one?"  His tone was just as
sarcastic as the receptionist's.

     "You see me.  Who are you?"

     "I'm Chris Myers.  I work out of the Chicago office. I need to
see the Director as soon as possible."

     "Ah-huh."  She had heard this before.  "Well, he's pretty busy
this morning.  How about sometime this afternoon?"

     "What time?"

     "Say around, oh 12:45?"  She could've made it earlier, but she
didn't like this guy's attitude.  She didn't have much power, but she
used what she had.

     "Yeah, alright.  That will be fine."

     "Don't be late."

     "I won't.  Oh, one more thing?"

     "Yes."

     "I need supplies.  I'm running Red Cross stations in Hayes and
Cherry Creek.  Plus, I need volunteers if you have them, for the other
areas that were hit."

     "Hit with what?"

     "The storms!  Don't you watch the news?"

     "Yeah.  Okay, come back and I'll have the supplies for you,
but as for volunteers, well...you know how it is."  She gave a
sympathetic shrug.

     "Okay - 12:45."  He turned and escorted Candy out. "We have
some time to kill.  What do you want to do?"

     "Well, I'd love to change.  I just threw some clothes on this
morning, and the hotel isn't too far from here."

     "Yeah sure, fine, whatever." 

     When they got back to the hotel room, the maids had already
been and gone.
 
     "I'm going to take a shower, why don't you watch tv or something."

     "Sure."  She went over to her suitcase and started rummaging
for her toiletries.  "What's this?"  She picked up the map from the
bed and handed it to Chris.

     "What's what?"  He took the map from her, the red circles
marked around the disaster areas bringing back all the painful
memories of the past several days.

     "What's wrong?"

     "Oh, nothing.  I was just thinking about Cherry Creek, that's
all."  He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, still fingering
the map.  Candy crawled behind him and started massaging his
shoulders. "You don't have to..."

     "Sshhh...Relax.  I understand."  She could feel the knots in
his shoulder blades.

     In the short time they spent together, they felt they had
known each other for years and were beginning to regret they hadn't
met earlier.

     Candy slowly bent down and kissed the back of his neck.  He
could feel himself harden. She pulled him down on the bed and covered
his lips with hers.  He returned her kiss deeply, passionately, as his
hands caressed her body.

     He pulled off the t-shirt she was wearing and slowly
unfastened the back of her bra and removed it.  In a sudden move, he
flipped them both over so she looked up at him with a mixture of
amusement and arousal.  He slowly bent down and kissed her hardened
nipples, then undid her jeans and slid them off her legs.

     Enjoying the care which he was taking, she pulled off his
sweatshirt and thermal undershirt.  Undid the top of his jeans.

     He moved again to kiss her deeply, and she moaned in response.
"Oh, Mulder!"

     Chris stopped and looked down at her.

     She looked puzzled.  "What?  Why did you stop?"

     "You said Mulder."

     "I did not."

     "Yes, you did."

     "Well, I didn't mean to."

     "I'll be downstairs in the restaurant."  He got off the bed
and reached for his clothes discarded only moments before.  "If you
want to come with me to Cherry Creek, like we discussed, meet me
downstairs at noon.  We'll go to headquarters first, then leave."  He
grabbed his coat and stalked out, making a mental note to talk to this
Agent Mulder and find out his secret to getting women to cry out his 
name in moments of passion.



Rapid City
Thursday
12:45 p.m.


     The receptionist's attitude was better when Chris arrived.
 
     "I have a 12:45 appointment with the director."

     "Yes, of course, Mr. Myers.  Please follow me."

     "Uh, Candy.  Why don't you take charge of the supplies?  The
sooner we get back, the better."

     "Sure."  She was being very careful what she said to him,
though she really couldn't see what his problem was.  He's probably
tired, she thought to herself.

     The receptionist came back.  "Follow me."  She took Candy down
the back service elevator toward the loading docks.  "These four
containers are yours.  I'll get the guys to load them for you."  She
went over and talk to someone who looked like the foreman.

     "You want these moved?"  Sometimes dealing with stupid people
was such a trial.

     "Yeah.  My jeep is over there, the green one.  The back should
be unlocked."

     "Sure thing, honey."  He leered, then finally turned to load
the supplies.

     "And don't call me honey," she muttered through clenched
teeth.

     An hour later, Chris came out of the meeting a little more
hopeful than he went in.  The director had promised to lobby
Washington to help out the indigenous population of the towns that
were hit.  He also promised to get the governor to get the towns
declared disaster areas, so the people could rebuild with low-cost
loans.

     "Where's the lady I was with?"
  
     "She's down at the loading dock."

     "Thanks."

     He walked down the hallway toward the main elevator, and
waited patiently.  Just as the door opened, he heard the receptionist
yell down to him.

     "Mr. Myers!  Mr. Myers!  It's Hayes on the line - they need to
talk to you." She was calling from the doorway of the office.

     Chris quickly jumped back off the elevator before it closed
and ran down the hallway.

     "No.  Use the guest phone."  She pointed to the phone in the
waiting area.
     
     "This is Myers.... I see....  Okay.  Put together a team there
just in case."  He quickly hung the phone up and started for the door.

     "Is there anything we can do?"

     Chris looked serious.  "That was one of the volunteers in
Hayes.  There's been riots over the few supplies we have out there.
Everyone is afraid there'll be another storm and people are starting
to panic.  I'll get these supplies delivered.  Is there any way to get
some volunteers there as soon as you can?"

     "I'll see what I can do."  She gave him a smile.  A total
change from the woman earlier.  Chris was beginning to wonder if there
was something to that alien theory after all.

     He found Candy in the jeep looking over the map they had brought
from the hotel room. 

     "The situation in Hayes is deteriorating.  We're going out
there."  He reached in the glove compartment, pulled out a cellular
phone and plugged it into the cigarette lighter.  "You happen to know
Mulder's cell number?"

     "Yes, why do you ask?"

     "Give lover boy a call and tell him there's a problem, and ask
if he could spare Dr. Scully."

     "For all we know they may have left the area already."  Just
the mention of Scully's name was enough to change Candy's mood from
one of excitement and expectation to something darker.

     "It didn't look as though they had packed when we were at the
hotel."

     "How would you know, you didn't really stay that long."

     "Are you going to call or what?"  He started the jeep and
peeled out of the loading area.

     She tried both Mulder's and Scully's number but got no answer.
"They aren't answering."  She frowned at the sudden thought of them
wrapped in each other's arms somewhere.

     "Do you have any idea where they might be heading?"

     "Um, yeah, I found a note they left.  Said they were going to
check out Ellsworth AFB."

     "Why?"  Chris was confused as to their destination.

     "What, I have information tattoed on my forehead?  Mulder
didn't exactly write me a novel."  Chris wondered why they would go
there, and what the connection could be.

     "Well, make yourself somewhat useful and find out the fastest
way to Hayes. We'lll drop off the supplies and see what we can do out
there to help."

     "Look, I don't have to take this attitude from you."

     "I'm sorry, but I don't have time.  People's lives are at
stake.  The sooner we get the supplies to where they're needed, the 
more lives we can save,"  he replied gravely.

     "Okay, take 90 West and...."

     "And what?"  He glanced over to her and she was staring at the
map.  "What 90 west and what?"

     "Take 90 West and then Rt 212 east."

     "We go west and then east?  Why don't we just go 90 east."

     "Who's navigating here?  You either go east and then north, in
which case we would have to take back roads and God knows what else.
This way you stay on the interstates and paved roads, which will be
much quicker."

     "But...."

     "But WHAT!"  It wasn't a question.  Chris grunted and accepted
her directions.  Giving in was easier and probably less time
consuming.  Candy turned back to the map.  "Oh, by the way, did you
notice how these red dots form an arch?"
 
     "Just out of curiosity, where's Ellsworth?"

     "Not in the direction we are heading."

     "I didn't ask that, I asked where Ellsworth was?"  She put her
finger on Ellsworth and then realized the connection.

     "Are you aware that all these town are pretty much equidistant
from the base?  I wonder.."

     "Wonder what?"

     "I wonder - maybe the government is doing secret experiments
trying to control violent weather as a destructive force based on
alien technology."

     "You have got to be joking.  What will you think up next?"

               		- - - - -

Ellsworth AFB
Thursday
2:15 p.m.


     Mulder didn't have clear sense of where they were taking him,
but suspected it was one of the unmarked base buildings he had seen on
the map.  Behind him, he could hear Scully struggling with her captors
as they dragged her to another door.

     "Mulder!"

     "Scully!  I'll get us out of this!"

     The MP's stopped Mulder short of the doorway into the
building.  Standing in the pathway was someone who looked like he
thought he was important.  "Ah, Agent Mulder.  I hope you don't mind.
We have a few more questions for you to answer before we let you loose
on the general population."  His captor smirked.  "My name is Major
Harrison.  You may call me Major, if you like."  He snapped his
fingers, and the guards grabbed the agent by both arms and dragged him
into what looked to be an interrogation room.
  
     "My man Cromwell says you were talking to someone in the
restaurant.  His name was William.  Well, Willie actually.  Lovely
young man, would've made a good recruit.  If he had lived."  He
sounded like a child whose favorite toy just broke.  "Now before we
get started, I'm going to talk to your lovely partner.  These two
gentlemen will take care of you in the meantime."

     Mulder looked at him with pure hatred.  Harrison just
snickered as he left to visit the woman.
     
     Scully was seated in a room nearby.  The Major walked in and,
folding his arms in front of him, leaned negligently against the wall.

     "I demand to know what you are going to do with us.  We are
Federal agents on a case, and you are obstructing us in the
performance of our duties."

     "Dr. Scully, I presume."  At her look of surprise, he
continued.  "Oh yes, we know all about you and your partner, Spooky
Mulder.  It's amazing what a bottle of scotch buys these days.  So, do
want to tell me what you and he were doing out there?"

     "I told you, we were lost.  We were going to stop and ask
directions."

     "The commander's office is only a few yards from the gate, how
could you possibly have gotten lost?  Especially Federal agents such
as yourselves.  Don't insult my intelligence, Agent Scully."

     "My partner has a bad sense of direction."

     "Indeed he does."  He admired her spirit.  "Okay, well until
we get some answers out of either of you, it looks like you'll both be
here for a while."

     Harrison left and Scully sat alone for several minutes.  Then
she heard some scuffling a short distance away.  The door was locked
when she tried it, but she thought she knew what was happening.

     "SCULLY!"

     Oh God.  "MULDER!"

               - - - - -


Ellsworth AFB
Friday
2:30 a.m.

     Her stomach rumbled, and she began to regret the lunch she had
left mostly untouched back at the diner.  Mulder made her eat a few
bites, but what she left on her plate in defiance would have looked
very good right now.  She peered around the small room.  Like Mulder,
she had been moved from the first room.  Now she occupied a barren
cell - windowless except for a small opening in the door, more for the
guards' use than the inhabitants.  Other than that, there was only a
small sink, a cot, and a toilet, not unlike a prison cell.  One of the
nastier prison cells, she thought.  She wondered what time it was.
They had taken her watch when they brought her here.  For lack of
anything else to do she had slept, but had no idea for how long.  But
her stomach was now proclaiming that food was long overdue.
  
     She shivered.  Was it her imagination, or was it getting
colder?  The cold and the infernal 150 watt light directly over the
cot had prevented her from sleeping longer.  The couple hours she 
was able to get last night were nowhere near enough, and she had been
mostly running on coffee and adreneline.

     She let her mind wander and wondered where Mulder was and how
he was being treated.  She also was wondering what Chris and Candy
were up to.  The more she thought about Candy and that morning the
madder she got, grateful for the warmth her temper generated.
  
     "So, how you doing?" She looked up and saw Harrison standing
in the doorway.

     "I'm freezing and I'm hungry."

     "I'm sure you are.  So, care to tell me why you're here?"

     "What do you mean?  You were the one who put me here."

     "That's funny, your partner said the same thing before he
passed out. Hmmm.."  Truth of the matter was they had done nothing 
to her partner, not yet, anyway.  And we may not have to, he thought -
her concern for her partner was her achilles heel, as was his concern
for her.

     "You bastards - what did you do to him?"

     "Oh, nothing he won't recover from - in time.  So why did you
two come here?"  Scully knew she wasn't as adept as playing mind 
games as Mulder was, but she remembered her hostage training.

     "Honestly, we were investigating the source of those tornadoes
that are plaguing the small towns of this region."

     "Truly, and what did you discover?"

     "That you're making them."  The truth, no matter how strange,
was better than any lie should could think of.

     "Make a tornado?  Now, really."  His laughter was mocking,
dismissive.

     "So, tell me.  If you aren't making these storms, why are we
here?  What do you have to hide?"  She looked at him.  The tables
turned.  He left the cell before his temper flared and he revealed
anything.  As soon as he was in the hall, he turned to the guard.

     "Turn off the heat to the whole cell block.  Maybe we can
freeze her into submission."

		               - - - - -

     Mulder had been dragged to a small room, or at least what he
could see of it from the hallway.  He was unceremoniously thrown in,
and the door slammed behind him.  The darkness was complete and he
could hear nothing.  After exploring his room as thoroughly as
possible in the dark, he slept for a while, only to be awakened by his
usual nightmare.  But there was no Scully to offer comfort, no TV or
VCR to drive the demons away.  In spite of the chill, he sat sweating
on the side of his cot.  Scully.  What was happening to Scully?

     He passed more time in re-reading his favorite books,
replaying them in his mind, turning the pages, seeing the words.  He
had almost forgotten where he was when, several hours later, two
guards burst into the room, grabbed him and dragged him into a cell,
brilliant with bright lights.

     "So, how do you like it so far?"  Mulder was trying to shield
his eyes but the two guards kept pulling his hands away from this
face.  It was agony to open his eyes. "Hmm...don't feel like chatting.
Let me start the conversation.  Why are you here?"

     "What do you mean?  You were the one who put me here."

     "Oh, that's very good.  Keep your sense of humor - you're
going to need it. I don't suppose you want to tell us why you came to
this base?"

     "No, I don't suppose."  He wasn't going to give them the
satisfaction of showing his discomfort.

     The Major had had enough, and nodded.  Next thing Mulder knew,
he was hauled to his feet and one of the guards landed an extremely
professional punch to his midsection.  "All right, Agent Mulder.  Play
hard ball if you want to.  Maybe your partner will be more forthcoming
under similar treatment."  Harrison turned on his heel and walked out
of the room.

     "You son of a bitch.  You'd better not TOUCH her, do you
understand me?"  With satisfaction, the Major heard a thud silence the
agent's threats.

		               - - - - -

Ellsworth AFB
Friday
6 a.m.

     Fortunately they let her keep her jacket but it was still cold
enough in the room that she could see her breath.  Stooping over the
little sink, she held the faucet on with one hand while she lapped at
the stale, rusty-tasting trickle that flowed from the antique
plumbing.  She wiped her face with her sleeve, then shivered
violently.  She started digging through her pockets for a lighter and
thought how smokers had an unfair advantage over the rest of the
populace, until her fingers closed around a small packet of matches.
Maybe if she lit a fire and set off the alarms they would have to
evacuate them, and perhaps she could see Mulder. Then the door opened
and she shoved them back in her pocket.

     "How's my favorite FBI Agent?  So," he sat down with a big
sigh, "let's start at the beginning once again."

     "Where's  Mulder?"

     "Oh, he's...let's just say he's indisposed at the moment."

     "If you have nothing to hide, why did you detain us?"  Scully
noticed the look of fear in his eyes when she turned the tables last
time, maybe she could send him out scurrying again.

     "Who said we were detaining you?  I never said that.  For your
information and gratification, you two are being held because you
breeched base security.  And because you two are just plain too nosy
for your own good.  Care to talk?"

     "I told you the truth.  We are investigating the origin of the
storms and we are following up on a lead that this place may be the
source."

     "Come with me."  He got up and pulled out a pair of handcuffs,
and put them on her.  They felt warm on her chilled wrists.  "I want
to show you something."  He held the door open for her and followed
her out into the hallway.  She welcomed the relative warmth, but was
disturbed by how dizzy she was.  "I believe you.  At least you're
civil with me, that's more than I can say for your partner."  He took
her toward the end of the hallway.  He punched in an access code and
the doors unlatched.

     They walked in what looked like a command center.  "I know you
were helping the wounded.  I just wanted you to see this."  He pointed
to a map up on the wall and all the towns that were hit were in red.
"Look familiar?  I told Richardson we should have been more careful
with the placement, but as usual the man never listens to me."

     "How?"

     "If I told you I'd have to kill you."  He laughed, a nasty
grating sound that made her skin crawl.  "You've seen enough."  To one
of the nearby soldiers, he said, "Take Agent Scully back to her room."

     "But what about Mulder?"

     He laughed again.  

		                    - - - - -

7:00 a.m.

     After the rough treatment by the guards he was thrown back
into his little hole.  It was still dark and soundless.  But the
ringing in his ears gave him comfort.  Fortunately the guards hadn't
gone for the face or his ribs, but it would be a while before his
midsection stopped hurting.
  
     He paced in his little cell, feeling his way, trying not to
think of what things they might be doing to Scully.  He tried to
explore the small room, hoping to find a way out.  He found the sink
and held the faucet on while he cupped his other hand to get a little
water.  As bad as it tasted, it was better than nothing.  By his
reckoning, it had been a very long time since their brunch at the
diner, with nothing to eat or drink since.

     "Agent Mulder."  A figure stood in the doorway that was
flooded with light.  Involuntarily, the agent threw an arm up to
shield his face and his heart froze, remembering the figure framed by
the light in the doorway during his sister's abduction.  "I think it's
time we talked, don't you?"  Two guards stepped in and dragged him
once more down the hall.

     Harrison was grinning.  "I hear you're a real UFO nut.  Well,
I think I can show you something that will blow your mind."  The
guards deposited Mulder none too gently in a chair as he squinted to
keep the bright lights from his eyes.

     The Major walked around and flipped most the switches off.  "I
want you to be able to see this.  Your partner told us about your
suspicions and the storms, and you are both quite correct."

     "Why are you telling me this?"  Mulder's tone was hostile,
suspicious.  One of the guards stepped closer.

     "That's okay."  Harrison motioned to the guard to step back.
"Because, it's what you've been searching for your whole life, isn't
it?  Do aliens exist?"  Mulder eyed the Major with distastefully.  If
Harrison were telling him everything he wanted to know, then they were
obviously going to kill both him and Scully.  So there was nothing to
lose.  While watching Harrison with apparent interest, the greater
part of his mind was busy trying to come up with a plan to free Scully
and himself.

     "I think I have something that will prove interesting to you.
From one UFO believer to another."  The guards, making sure his
handcuffs were secure, picked him up out of the chair.  They walked
down the hall.  He remembered that Scully was in one of these rooms,
but which one?

     "So what is it that you want to tell me?"  He pitched his
voice purposely loud.  Maybe if Scully heard him, she would try to let
him know what room she was in.

     "I think being in that deprivation room is wearing on you,
Agent Mulder.  There's no need to shout."

     Scully heard him and rushed to the door.  Reaching up, she
banged on the tiny window set high in the door.  Spying her petite
hand, Mulder shouldered the guard to the right and threw him off
balance.  Using the martial arts training from Quantico, he kicked the
other guard, dislocating his knee.  Harrison, taken aback for a
moment, ran down the hall, yelling for reinforcements.

     Mulder scrambled over to the door where he had seen the hand,
finding it, as he had assumed, locked.  He stepped back and kicked the
area of the lock savagely, the wood finally yielding.

     "Scully, come on!"  Reaching in, he grabbed her wrist and
started for the door.  They had not taken two steps when Mulder was
blindsided by two burly guards.  Another guard grabbed Scully and
pushed her into the next room with a functioning lock.  She began
pounding on the door and shouting her partner's name.  The guards used
their batons liberally to subdue Mulder, then he was dragged
unconscious back to the deprivation room and tossed in.

     Harrison stepped into the doorway.  "You foolish man. I was
going to show you something that would have....anyway, no matter. Now
you'll stay here."  As soon as he stepped out of the way the door was
slammed shut and Mulder was left in the cold silent dark.


End of Chapter Five




Chapter Six


Somewhere in South Dakota
Friday
1:00 p.m.


     The noise in the back of the truck made conversation between
them impossible, even if the four impressively armed military types
guarding them had allowed it.  They drew what comfort they could from
the fact that, after a long night alone and anxious about each other's
welfare, they were sitting close enough to touch.  For now, that would
have to be enough.

     They had long since left paved roads behind, and for the past
half hour or so had left any vestige of even a path.  As far as Scully
could tell, they were cutting across the prairie in a direction not
served by roads.  Or perhaps rather than a lack of roads, it was
because their captors wanted to avoid the risk of someone remembering
a lone military truck travelling where it didn't belong.  She tried to
estimate their speed, the length of time they had been riding, and to
a limited extent, the direction they had taken.  She had felt the
subtle pressure of Mulder's leg against hers when he wanted her to
notice something, so she became particularly alert at those times,
although she was not always quite sure what he wanted her to notice.
About two hours into their journey, the truck finally bumped to a
stop.

     The tailgate was dropped and the soldiers got out.  "This must
be the place," Mulder murmured to Scully.  "You know, this reminds me
all too uncomfortably of a number of movies I've seen.  In your
professional opinion - are four guys enough for a firing squad?"

     "You're such a comfort, Mulder.  Now I know why it's such a
wonderful experience being your partner."  At a signal from one of the
soldiers, Scully got up awkwardly.  With muscles cramped from the long
jouncing ride and her arms handcuffed behind her, she lost her balance
and fell face-first into her partner's lap.

     "No time to thank me right now, Scully."  He righted her as
best he could without the use of his arms and got to his feet.
Preceding her out of the truck, he jumped down from the tailgate and
landed on his face in the dusty sod.  The soldiers and Major Harrison
watched him impassively but never moved, so he struggled to his feet
on his own.  "You might at least give the lady a hand," he suggested
pointedly.  There was a second's hesitation, then at a nod from
Harrison, the tallest of the soldiers reached up, grabbed Scully
around the waist and deposited her none too gently on her feet next to
Mulder.

     Harrison turned to his men.  "Whitfield, stay here and just
keep an eye on things.  The rest of you men can get back in the truck.
You two - come with me."  The agents exchanged questioning glances,
then followed the tall, bulky form of the officer for a distance of
fifty or sixty yards away from the truck.  "Stand there and don't
move."  He stepped behind Scully and released her handcuffs, then did
the same for Mulder.

     Both agents were too suspicious of their captor to necessarily
take heart.  Harrison might just be taking off the cuffs because it
would be awkward explaining their presence on two bullet-riddled
corpses.  As unlikely as the odds of their escape were, Mulder was
scanning the area, formulating and revising plans as fast as his brain
could function.  Hand on his sidearm, Harrison surveyed him
contemptuously.

     "Don't bother, Mr. Mulder.  Whitfield would cut you down
before you took two steps.  You two are real pains in the ass, you
know that?  You have no idea of the damage you're doing.  This project
could put this country in a position of unrivalled power for a long,
long time.  I should be treated like a hero rather than having to deal
with two people like you, who should know better.  Who should also
have the interests of this country at heart, like I do.  Do you know
how long it's been since this country was in a position of having
exclusive possession of a weapon with this kind of potential?  I
should be decorated for what I'm helping to bring to our country."

     "I know," said Scully drily.  "I was just telling Mulder the
other day that there simply aren't enough awards for someone who would
unleash a natural disaster on an unwitting community.  Wasn't I,
Mulder?"

     He nodded emphatically. "Oh, yeah.  You sure did."

     The officer scowled.  "Unfortunately, I have been instructed
that you are going to die accidently in the performance of your
duties.  It's ironic, isn't it - that you two may end up being the
ones decorated?  Posthumously, of course, which has its drawbacks -
one big one, anyway."

     He began to stride away from them, and had almost reached the
truck when he called back.  "Too bad you didn't bring an umbrella - I
understand the forecast is calling for some pretty nasty weather later
on."  He snickered at his own joke, then signalled to Whitfield who
jumped into the truck and hauled the gate up and secured it.  Harrison
climbed into the passenger seat.  "Let's go."

     Scully, rubbing the chafed rings of skin around her wrists,
watched as the truck sped off.  "What do we do now?" she asked
tensely.

     Mulder put a hand out and gently squeezed her shoulder.
"Right now, let's just think for a minute.  First of all, are you all
right? Did they hurt you, touch you?"

     "No, I'm fine.  I'm tired - they made sure they kept me awake
with their stories of what they were doing to you.  And I'm very
hungry and thirsty.  But I'm okay.  Are you all right?"

     "Yeah, fine. Well, in better shape than I usually emerge from
these things," he said, sheepishly. He knew she was understating
things - she was Scully.  And he knew what sort of effect their
stories would have had on her, if only because he knew what effect
they had had on him.  But the last thing he was going to do was call
her on it.  "All right, obviously those guys are going to get back to
the base and cook up a little tornado for us.  What are our
alternatives?"

     "I just hope that they wait until they get back to the base,
Mulder.  They might have set it up before they left, arranged to have
the tornado occur at a certain time or something.  I don't know
whether or not you've noticed, but there's not a lot of shelter out
here.  If we're caught in the open with one of their special little
tornadoes, not only are we going to be dead, but they'll be able to
send what they find of us back to Washington in a shoe box."

     "I know."  He looked around, squinting against the glare of
the afternoon sun, which was quickly becoming obscured by clouds.  In
the distance he could see the dust trail kicked up by the truck as it
moved away from them.  "Well, I can only hope that Harrison is
egocentric enough not to want to risk his hide on an experimental
process that doesn't have all the bugs worked out yet.  I'm betting
that he'll want a large margin of error for this tornado, and will
want to put the maximum amount of distance between it and himself."

     "Okay, that seems logical.  So how long do we have?"  She
stood facing into the wind to prevent her hair from whipping across
her eyes.

     "It took us a little over two hours to get out here, and I'm
assuming it will take about the same amount of time for them to get
back, then a little more time to crank up the machinery.  Do you have
any idea where we are?"

     "You spent more time looking over the maps than I did, Mulder.
Wait a minute, I remember seeing a sign when we were still on the
road.  You saw it too, didn't you?  You nudged me then.  Something
about Thunder Butte being 17 miles away, but I can't remember anything
else.  I tried to keep track of the direction we were going.  We 
headed north for a while, and we had been travelling east when we left
the road, I know that.  Then we were running diagonally from the road,
so I think we were headed northeast.  After we left the roads I
couldn't discern much direction change, but then again, if they kept
the turns slow and wide, I wouldn't have noticed it."  She looked at
Mulder, who appeared distracted.

     Vaguely, he said, "I don't think there were any major
direction changes after we got off the roads, and I don't think they
would have bothered to disguise them.  We're not supposed to get out
of this alive, remember?  I had my eye on an opening in the canvas
side of the truck where I could see the daylight, and the direction of 
the sun never changed."  He shook his head, a perplexed expression on 
his face. "What the hell is it?  Thunder Butte, Thunder Butte.  I 
remember hearing something about that place, something I think Byers 
told me, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

     "Too bad you didn't read it, or you'd remember it now."  She
squatted on the ground to get out of the worst of the cold wind, and
her partner did the same.  "We need to get out of here, Mulder.  We
can't stay where they dropped us off, we need to put as much distance
between here and us as we can.  The question is, in which direction?"

     "Well, there's nothing in sight, that's for sure - no town, no
buildings, no roads, no nothing except grassland," replied her
partner.  "You pick."

     "Harrison doesn't strike me as an original thinker.  Like you
said, I think he's got a terrific opinion of himself, but I don't
think he really has much to back it up.  I feel he's going to assume
we'll try to go back in the direction we came from - following the
path of the truck, in other words.  I think we should go in the
opposite direction as far as we can."

     "And when we get there?  It still may not be far enough,
Scully," Mulder said quietly.

     She shrugged.  "I don't know.  Maybe something will occur to
us when we get there.  But don't count us out yet, Mulder."

     He gazed into her earnest, determined visage, drawing on her
strength.  Then he smiled slightly, nodded, and got to his feet.  She
took the hand he held out to her and stood.  "What do you think the
chances are of that geological formation over there being Thunder
Butte?  Does it look butte-ish to you?"

     "I think I do detect a certain butte-ishness about it," agreed
his partner.

     She was silent for a minute, avoiding his eyes, shifting her
weight from side to side, a dead giveway that she had something on 
her mind.  Finally,

     "Mulder... I need you to promise me something.  The marathon 
was never my event.  I suspect I am about to regret every time you 
have ever invited me out running and I refused."  The smile left her 
lips and she looked at him seriously. "I don't want to hold you up.  
If I start to fall behind, go on without me.  Please, as a favor to 
me."

     He smiled, shaking his head, and reached out to put his arm
around her shoulder to pull her close.  "Ain't no way, Scully.
Besides, who can outrun a tornado?  We're probably idiots to even try.
But Thunder Butte means something, I'm sure of it.  Let's assume that
that's where we're headed, and see how close we get.  Together."

     They started out at a brisk jog over terrain that only
appeared to be flat and smooth from a distance.  Their efforts might
have been less hopeful had they known that even as they panted across
the grasslands, their forms appeared as two electronic blips on the
small screen that Harrison held in his hands.

		               - - - - -


     It was over an hour later and they had just stopped for the
second time to catch their breath.

     "How...far...have we...come?"  panted Scully, massaging her
sore ankles.  Both she and her partner had stumbled and twisted their
ankles repeatedly while running over the prairie.  Both knew that they
had no choice other than to keep going.  Mulder cast a concerned
glance over his partner.  Like him, her exposed skin was covered with
the dust that ran down their faces and necks in muddy rivulets as it
mixed with their sweat.  But beneath the grime she was deathly pale,
and her lips were a little cyanotic.  With having had nothing to eat
or drink for so long, they were running on their reserves, and her
partner could tell that Scully was just about running on empty.  He
had been careful to slow as she slowed and appear as physically spent
as she was.  They did not have the luxury of time to stop and fight
about his going on without her.  As if he ever would.  But there was
still no shelter, and he was no closer to remembering what was
significant about Thunder Butte.

     "We've covered maybe six miles or so.  Not bad going under the
circumstances," answered Mulder.  "That may even be enough, Scully.
If we are in the opposite direction from where Harrision thought we'd
go, that makes a total of twelve miles away from where he thinks we
would be by now.  And it's not like these tornadoes are like
hurricanes, covering hundreds of square miles."  She gasped slightly
in response to his words.  Alarmed, he demanded, "What's the matter,
what is it?"

     Her expression had turned as grim as the gathering clouds off
to the west.  "You're right, Mulder, you're absolutely right.  They
cover a very small area indeed.  So tell me this.  Unless he had
staked us out on an anthill or something, how could Harrison know
exactly where we are, to within a mile or so?  Because he would need
that sort of accuracy to be sure that we would be caught and killed by
the tornado."  She looked at him.  It took a few moments, but then the
answer hit.

     "Bugs! Fuck, Scully, they planted a bug on us!  They've been
watching us run, probably laughing their asses off, knowing that all
they have to do is plot the coordinates the bugs are sending back.
Where are they, where could they have put them?"

     Scully was so tired that she could have burst into tears,
thinking of the painful but wasted efforts of the past hour.
Deliberately, she focused on the events surrounding their capture.
"We've been so manhandled in the last twenty four hours, they could be
anywhere.  They had all kinds of opportunity, up to and including when
that soldier hauled me down off the truck."

     "No, he didn't do anything then, I was watching pretty
closely.  It must have been while we were still at the airbase.  They
took our guns, but they didn't go through our pockets or anything.
Yeah, I can't think of too many places I haven't been grabbed, pushed,
prodded or punched lately.  Check your holster and your sleeves,
Scully.  We know we both came into contact with them there."

     "Bingo.  Here's mine.  Unless I miss my guess, a homing
device, not a listening device."  She held up something tiny.  "It was
stuck to the backside of my holster."

     After examining the bug he found on himself, he nodded,
confirming her guess.  "Nothing up your sleeves?  I had this one stuck
into my jacket sleeve."

     "No, just the one, as far as I can tell.  But you'd better
check.  Our time is running out to try to fix this."  Mulder quickly
but thoroughly searched her clothing and found no more homing devices,
then Scully did the same for him.

     "Now what?"  she asked.  "What kind of time to we have?"  She
needn't have spoken.  A look at her partner's face was informative
enough.

     "Uh - not much.  I'm afraid we have to distance ourselves from
these devices, so it means more running.  Do you think a mile would be
enough?"

     "It's going to have to be.  I'm not sure I can even do that
much, and we don't have the time to run much further than that anyway.
Let's go."  She climbed wearily to her feet and set out at a slow trot
in the direction of the butte in the distance.  Mulder looked with
disgust at the homing devices lying on the sod, then set off after his
partner.

     She tired much more quickly this time.  As he ran beside her,
he talked, joked, teased - in fact did everything he could think of to
keep her mind off her exhaustion and her feet moving.

     "Come on, Scully - any slower and I'll pick you up and carry you."

     "Don't.  You.  Dare.  Mulder.  Look.  Just... go on.  I'll
catch up."

     "Save your breath."

     Altogether, they managed to cover just under three quarters of
a mile, when Mulder grabbed his partner by the shoulder and pointed
slightly to their left.  "Scully, wait.  What's that?"  His eyes
peered into the deepening gloom, then his face lit up for the first
time that day.  "Yes!  Now I remember what Byers mentioned!  Just a
little farther, Scully, just over there.  You can make it that far.
Come on, this could save our asses, G-woman.  That's it, one tiny
little foot in front of the other."  By alternately praising and
nagging, he managed to keep her on her feet until they reached their
goal.  And by that time, the sky was darkening fast.

     He jumped down into the trench.  "Okay Scully, sit down on the
edge and slide.  I'll catch you," he called up.  "Then you can rest."
Her head appeared over the side, then she did as he had instructed.
He caught her gently but securely by the waist, then helped her to
sit, her back against the wall of sod.

     The trench was one of a series, placed about fifty yards
apart.  Each was approximately a thousand feet long, eight feet wide
and anywhere from four to six feet deep.  Where the two agents found
themselves was one of the deeper areas.

     "Mulder, what is this place?"

     "Byers told me about it.  Just before our entry into World War
One, the country was in a very isolationist frame of mind - didn't
want to get involved in Europe's problems.  So the Army had to find
fairly out-of-the-way places to train its troops without raising
speculation that we were about to get involved.  Thunder Butte, South
Dakota was considered to be one of the places that fit the bill.  They
were being trained for the sort of battles which were taking place in
France at that time - namely trench warfare."  As he spoke, he eyed
the growing thunderheads speculatively, and pulled a Swiss Army knife
from his pocket.  "See, Scully, it pays to have been a Boy Scout - I'm
always prepared."  He began to saw at the sod in the side of the
trench.

     As exhausted as she was, his partner couldn't let that one
pass.  "Cut the crap, you were never a Boy Scout, Mulder."  He
snickered.  "What are you doing, anyway?  And how long do we have?"

     "Trying to construct us a little hidey-hole.  And you don't
want to know.  By my reckoning, I figure we ran out of time almost
five minutes ago."  Frantically, he cut the sod from the wall of the
trench, threw it aside, and began to stab at the dirt beneath to
loosen it enough to scoop out.  A moment later, he found Scully at his
side, using her arms to sweep the loosened dirt from the hole so he
could continue to enlarge it.

     "Not down low, Mulder," she said breathlessly.  "These
trenches ...probably collect rainwater ...in a downpour.  Like the
washes... out in the desert.  It would be ironic.. survive the
wind... drown in the rain."

     The sky had darkened dramatically and the first few drops of
rain began to fall as she spoke.  They renewed their speed.  In
fifteen more minutes, they were soaked to the skin in the driving rain
that was now coming down in heavy sheets, but they had managed to
scoop out a rough shelf, four feet long, two feet high and two and a
half feet deep.

     "It's not big enough, Mulder."  Scully yelled to be heard over
the pounding of the rain.

     "It's going to have to be.  Get in," he yelled back.

     "You first."
     
     He shook his head vehemently.  "Don't start, Scully.  We won't
fit if I go in first.  I know what I'm doing - get in."

     She looked at him doubtfully, then dived into the opening as
lightning split the sky and illuminated the gloom.  "That's it - curl
up with your back to the opening.  I'm coming in now."

     With an effort, he clutched on to the sod above him and
hoisted himself into the crevass, wrapping himself around Scully's
small frame like a turtleshell.  His own back protruded an inch or two
from the opening, but for the most part, they were as protected as
they were going to get out here on the open prairie.

     "Okay?"

     "Uh...could you just move your knee... no, the other one.  
Yeah, that's better."

     His broad shoulders blocked out what little light the outside
offered, except during the fiercest of the lightning flashes.  "Can
you breathe?"  His voice was close to Scully's ear, close enough to
tickle as he spoke.

     "Yeah.  Not great, but enough.  I think there's bugs crawling
under my clothes, though."

     "I wouldn't be surprised.  Are you warm enough?"

     "Yeah."

     Yeah, right.  She was shaking like a leaf and he could hear
her teeth chattering.  It hadn't been exactly balmy all day, and they
were both soaked.  Then with the exhaustion, dehydration, lack of
food....  As much as he had room for, he began to rub her arms and
legs, trying to coax a little warmth into them.  Involuntarily, he
pulled her closer as lightning lit up their den and almost
simultaneous thunder crashed.  "That was close," he said
unnecessarily.

     Her voice was muffled, but warm with memories.  "I used to
love thunderstorms when I was a kid.  Missy was scared to death, but I
would sit out on the porch swing with my father and watch the sky
light up."  She giggled a little.  "We used to rate the thunderclaps,
scoring them like an Olympic diving competition or something.
Everyone else in the family thought we were crazy, but it was always
such a special time, just the two of us."

     Mulder felt a pang as he often did when Scully talked about
her family.  Partly for her, for what she had lost in the last few
years, and partly for himself, for the close family he had never had.
Even before Samantha was taken, his father had been cold, demanding
and distant, and his mother anxiously wrapped up in her husband's
needs and wants.  Most of the memories were so dark, so painful, so
bleak....  "Samantha always hated thunderstorms.  My parents forbade
us to disturb them at night for any reason, so she would try to climb
in with me.  She thought I was so brave..."  His voice caught and he
choked a little.  "Sorry.  Dust."

     "Yeah."  Scully accepted easily what they both knew for
fiction.  "I'm starting to warm up a little, Mulder.  How about you?"

     "Not too bad.   The inside parts of me are warming up, anyway."

     She shifted slightly, freeing up another inch of space.
"Better?"

     Her partner squirmed.  "Yeah, thanks.  At least my butt's not
hanging out there like a lightning rod now."  He was quiet for a few
moments.

     "Scully ... you need to know this ... especially now.  This
thing with Candy.  She meant something to me once, I don't deny that.
But I realize that it was in the past, there's nothing now.  When
we ...  well, it just wasn't the same, not like I remembered it.  She
realizes it, and so do I."

     "What brought that on, Mulder?"

     "I thought you should know, that's all."

     She nodded.  "I just didn't want to see you get hurt," she
said quietly.

     "I know."

     Long moments passed, with only the sounds of the raging storm
outside their den.  In spite of their predicament, they began to relax
in each other's arms.

     "How long?"

     "Anytime, now."  He tightened his arm around her.  God, she
was so small.  Tough, but small.  And once again he had managed to
involve her in something that could - and this time probably would -
exact the ultimate price.

     "Dana.  I'm so sorry."

     He felt her head shake slightly.  "Really, Mulder?  I'm not.
I'm not sorry for any of it."

     "How can you say that?  I got you into this - it was my
search, my work, my quest, and I got you so involved that you've
suffered by it.  You've lost so much - even before... this.  Your
sister.  All hopes of a more orthodox career, with promotions.  You
completely lost three months out of your life.  I know you've lost
friendships over our work.... Over me.  Relationships, too,
undoubtedly.  What could possibly make all that up to you?"

     She sighed, not unhappily, almost rather a sigh of
contentment.  "I've come to terms with Missy's death.  No one was
responsible but the man who pulled the trigger.  Not me, and certainly
not you.  As to the other things - I made those choices, Mulder, and I
made them willlingly, not out of a sense of obligation or desperation
or anything else.  I made those choices knowing what could happen.
And I'd make those same choices again.  You speak in terms of loss -
but look at what I've gained.  I've seen things, experienced things,
that no one else has.  The whole realm of extreme possibility has been
opened for me, without boundaries.  The sense of freedom alone has
been incredible, exhilarating.  Intellectually, I've been challenged
in ways nothing else could have done - and I think I've met that
challenge.  I've learned so much from what we've been through, and
from you.  And ... there's you...our partnership...our friendship.
It's all been a roller coaster ride, but infinitely better than never
going on the ride at all."  Her small hands moved, interlacing her
fingers with his, and she brought their hands up close to her cheek so
he could feel the warmth of her breath as she spoke.  "Even if we
don't get out of this, Mulder, I don't regret a single thing that
happened."

     He was silent for a few moments, speechless and overwhelmed.
When at last he spoke, his voice was soft and tight with the emotion
he was trying so hard to hold in check.  "Do you regret what didn't
happen?"

     She didn't pretend to misunderstand him.  "Maybe.  But that's
a big step.  Things happen when they're supposed to happen, Mulder.
If it ends here, it just wasn't meant to happen."

     "And if it doesn't end here?  If somehow we manage to get out
of this?"

     "The ride will go on.  And we'll have more time.  And
maybe....  You never know - not in the realm of extreme possibility.
After all, we both know that stranger things have happened."  So
softly it might have been his imagination, her lips brushed the back
of his hand.

     A roaring sound cut through even the din of the thunderstorm,
building with every second, until their ears ached with it.  Once more
he tightened his grip.

     "Here we go."

End of Chapter Six.



Chapter Seven

Somewhere in South Dakota
Friday 
2 p.m.

     "Oh great, we're lost!"  Anger and frustration were evident in
his voice, and in the abrupt way he pulled the jeep over and put it in
park.  Candy just sat there with a smug look on her face.  She had
told him the right routes, if he couldn't follow them, how was she to
blame?  "Okay, now where?"
     
     "You know..." she stopped herself in mid-sentence.  He was
being a royal prick, but seeing what he had been through in the past
forty eight or more hours, he was probably entitled.  "Okay, let me
see where we are."  She spread the map out across her lap and the
dashboard and tried to recreate the route she believed they had taken.
"You see, we were supposed to take Route 212 off Route 34.  But if we
stay on this road we can work our way up towards the Thunder Butte
area.  Plenty of time."  She looked out the windshield at the greying
sky.  "We can't be that far away - look at the clouds."  He made a
face that told her that he was not any happier.  "Oh, just drive."

     They had delivered the supplies to Hayes the previous day, and
spent the rest of the day and a good part of the night distributing
them in Hayes and in Cherry Creek.  They finally got to bed by dawn,
falling from exhaustion onto the nearest unoccupied cots. They got no
more than a few hours of fitful, interrupted sleep when they were up,
manning the kitchen and trying to provide some sort of nourishing meal
to over four hundred hungry refugees and volunteers. When the
seemingly endless lines had at last ended, Eric ran up and pulled
Chris aside.  After Eric returned to his duties, Chris came to Candy's
side.

     "The conditions are right for another tornado - predictions
are that this could be the biggest yet."

     "Do they have any idea where?"

     "Somewhere north of here, in all probability.  Let's see that
map."

     They went out to the jeep and rummaged in the glove
compartment to where the map had been stowed.

     "Yeah, look here," Chris said.  "Following the path of that
arch, I'd put money on the site of the next tornado being Thunder
Butte, or somewhere damn close to it."  They had left Hayes soon
after.
     
     Chris peeled off the side of the road and got back into
traffic.  Hopefully they hadn't lost too much time. It bothered him
that they couldn't reach Dana. He could really use her right now.
     
     "Why don't you try Mulder and Dana again."   

     "Why?"

     "Are you going to question everything I ask you to do, because
if you are, I'm going pull over and drop you off right here."

     "I'm sorry."  She realized Chris was hanging on by sheer
willpower at this point, and the best plan was to just go along with
him.  "I'll try."  Still no answer.
 
     "Try the base at Hayes.  Eric should still be there.  The
number is 555-8093."

     Candy handed him the phone "It's for you."  She was hoping he
would smile, but he didn't.
     
     "Flip on the hands-free button.  Eric?" 
     
     "Yeah, Chris.  We've been hearing more bad things about the
weather.  Looks surer than ever about a big one happening soon.  Of
course, they've been wrong before."

     "Ain't that the truth.  Listen, have you heard from the two
FBI agents lately?"

     "Naw.  Why?"

     "Oh just curious.  If they call looking for us, tell them
we're headed toward Thunder Butte - looks like that may be where the
action is."

     "Us?"

     "Candy's here too."

     "Huh-huh."

     "I know what you're thinking, and knock it off.  How are
things there?"

     "Okay.  We're just mopping up.  The Governor just declared
this town and the others disaster areas, so that will help."

     "Great. Yeah, I talked to the Rapid City Director.  Glad to
hear it."

     "Oh, by the way.  Strangest thing."

     "Now what?"

     "I just heard about this myself.  About noon, on the way back
here from Belvidere, a jeepload of our guys was almost run off the
road by a military transport.  Looks like it was in a hurry, headed
north.  Who knows, maybe Uncle Sam has decided to think ahead and is
actually sending some GI help before we need it. That would be a nice
change."

     "Yeah, maybe. Listen, I don't know if we'll be able to stay in
contact while we're up there.  I'll call when I can, okay?"

     "Sure thing.  Be careful."

     Chris hit the end button on the phone.  "A military
transport."  He looked thoughtful and told her the details of his
conversation with Eric.

     Candy glanced over at him, puzzled.  "Isn't it a good thing to
have the military involved in the rescue effort?"

     "Not according to my brother who was in Vietnam."

     "What?"

     "Never mind, family joke.  Listen, are you sure about those
directions?"

     "Yes."

     "Good.  Looks like there's more going on in Thunder Butte than
a storm, if you know what I mean."

     "No, I don't.  I don't have the faintest idea."

     "You will," he said grimly.  "You will."

  		             - - - - - 

     It was forty five minutes later when they arived in the town
of Thunder Butte.  The thunderstorm had been fierce for the past
twenty minutes and hail bounced off the hood of the Jeep with sharp
little pinging noises.  Once again, the local shelter was in a school,
a scene all too familiar to Chris.  The town's tornado siren had gone
off a few moments earlier, and they struggled through the doors along
with residents fleeing the storm.  He found the local sheriff and
asked him if anyone had seen a military truck.

     "Naw, man. I haven't seen anyone here from the military."

     "Strange.  One was reported."

     "Not really.  They were probably heading up north to do some
maneuvers or something. I wouldn't worry about it."

     "I suppose."  Something was nagging at him.  He had a feeling
that he should worry, that something very important was going on.  "I
need to call my base camp, can I use the phone?"

     "Sure, if it still works."

     While Chris did his investigating, Candy stood under the
portico of the school.  The hail had stopped and the wind was kicking
up, as was the lightning and thunder. Chris found her making notes in
a notebook.

     "Writing this down for your memoires?"

     "No, making notations about the unusual cloud formation.  It
looks like the center of the storm is going to happen over there, and
happen damn soon.  This is why I wanted to be in the thick of it. To
get some good weather data. I would have joined you in Cherry Creek,
if it wasn't for Scorpy."

     "Who?"

     "Mulder."

     "Oh." His tone made it clear that he truly didn't care to hear
that name any time soon.  "Well, if we don't get inside, we'll
definitely be in the heart of it.  Come on."

  		             - - - - -

     "Chris!" 

     Candy had been glued to the windows of the school for twenty
minutes, when she rushed over to where her companion was setting up
cots and pulled him roughly by the arm.  "Chris, you have to see this
- the funnel cloud - it's forming!  And its whole behavior is totally
unnatural!  This is incredibly fascinating!  Why didn't I think to
bring a video camera?"

     They were interrupted by a beeping from the cell phone hanging
on Chris' belt.

     "Myers."

     "Chris, this is Eric.  Thought you ought to know, for what
it's worth.  We've had a report relayed to us from Rapid City.
Actually, less a report than something that just seemed to come up in
conversation.  There's a guy that hangs out around Ellsworth, mostly
just causes trouble, throws garbage at the jeeps, stuff like that.
He's been kind of semi-adopted by some of the guys from the Rapid City
office, they try to keep him out of trouble.  He's not a terribly
reliable source, but he said something to them, and they relayed it to
me, that I thought might interest you.  Have you heard from your
missing agents yet?"

     "No, why?"

     "I don't think you're going to, either, if what our source
said is true.  He's kind of a weird guy, always reporting something or
other, most of which turns out to have been a product of his fertile
imagination.  But this time there was a ring of truth to it."

     "What did he say?"

     "Well, there was a lot of his anti-military stuff to start
with, his usual rant.  But then he started going on about how the
government was starting to turn against itself, and if they could do
that, what chance did anyone have.  Well, he wasn't making much sense,
but then again he never does - "

     "Cut to the chase, Eric, we're in the middle of a mess here."

     "Yeah, well, so are your Fed friends.  Homer the Gomer said
that he saw two people who fit their descriptions taken at gunpoint
and in handcuffs and loaded into a military transport, heading north
from Ellsworth."

     "You think it was the same truck - the one your guys saw?"

     "I dunno.  Could be - the direction's right.  I'll keep you
posted, anyway."

     "You have a point.  Thanks, Eric, we'll check it out from
here.  And if you find out anything more, let me know."  He pressed
the phone off and turned thoughtfully to Candy.

     "IF you were right - and I'm not saying you are - but IF you
were right, and there was something going on at Ellsworth, would it be
worth killing over?  Killing two Federal agents?"

     Candy matched his grim look.  "If what we suspect is going on
is in fact going on, yeah, I believe they would stop at nothing to
keep it quiet.  Control of the weather could be a weapon of unrivalled
power.  Nuclear weapons haven't been used.  Why?  Partly because of
the threat that the radiation unleashed could eventually spread to
allied areas.  But even more importantly, because the rest of the
world would condemn whatever country used those weapons as an
international criminal.  But weather happens all the time.  A whole
war could be carried out using weather as a weapon and no one would be
any the wiser.  Now, what means do YOU think they would use to protect
that knowledge?"

     "Do you think that's what's happening?"

     "As you know, I believe the source of that power is alien
technology, and I'll believe that til the day I die.  But regardless
of the source, yeah, I believe that's what's happening."

     "And Mulder and Dana walked right into the lion's den, asking
questions...."  He proceded to recount his conversation with Eric.

     "Chris - we've got to get out there!"

     He looked at her blankly.  "Why?"

     "Think about it.  You're the base commander, you're testing
this alien technology to create weather - " she gave him a warning
look not to interrupt her - "that causes all sorts of civilian deaths
and horrendous damage, and then two nosy Federal agents show up at
your door.  You'd want to get rid of them, right?  Permanently.  But
how would you do it?  Car accidents are investigated, and it's not
likely they could get killed in the crossfire of a gangfight in South
Dakota.  So how would you get rid of them?"

     He suddenly looked grim as it dawned on him.  "Stick them out
at Ground Zero in the middle of nowhere and create a tornado over
their heads."

     "Bingo.  So let's get out there, now."

     "It won't do them any good if we get killed, too.  If they're
out there on the prairie, in the open, in THAT...."  He trailed off as
with widened eyes he saw the funnel cloud hover over one spot in the
distance.  They both watched, transfixed, as it grew in size and
ferocity for some minutes, then simply disappeared.  "Shit!"  Chris
quickly turned from the window.  "Sheriff!

     The lawman turned at the sound of his name and walked over to
where they stood.  "Can I help you?"

     "Sheriff, what's out there - anything but prairie?"

     "Well, it's mostly just open land, of course.  There is the
old Practice Ground, though."

     "Practice Ground?"

     "It's where they trained troops before World War One - lots of
trenches and ground fortifications and such."

     "Would it provide cover?"

     "Well, not to say cover, exactly.  'Sides, nothing's enough
cover for something like these storms.  But it's the only place out
there that isn't just open spaces."

     "Thanks.  Look, stay close to the phone.  I'm going out there.
We think that a couple of friends might have been stranded out there,
and I may be phoning in for some help."

     "If they were stranded out there, the only thing you'll be
phoning back for is body bags.  You know where I'll be."  He smiled,
tipped his hat to Candy and ambled off.

     "Okay, you stay here, Candy, and I'll let you know what's
going on."

     "No way in hell.  I'm going with you."

     "Look, we don't know what we're going to find out there.  I
know you've known Mulder for a long time, and what we find, if
anything, well...let's just say that I've had a lot of exposure to
stuff like that and you haven't."

     As patiently as possible, she replied, "I appreciate your
manly instincts to protect 'the little woman'.  But I'm going."

     He saw by the set expression of her face and the 
determination in her eyes that he would do nothing by arguing with 
her other than waste time.  He smiled.  "Okay.  If I left you here 
you'd probably just manage to get yourself abducted by aliens, 
anyway."

     "For your information, I've already been abducted by aliens."

     "Well, hopefully you learned something from the experience
that will be of some use out there."  He grabbed some blankets and an
extra first aid kit, and they left the building.
     
  		             - - - - -

     "Where are we going?"  Candy shouted over the noise of the
storm and the jeep's engine and held on for dear life as the vehicle
bounced along on the rough prairie.

     "Practice Grounds," he shouted back.  "If they were dropped
off out here, it's the only place they would have had a prayer.  If
they didn't get to the Practice Grounds, we won't be finding them.
Look, Candy - this is a real long-shot.  I don't know if they even
knew of the existence of this place.  But it's the only place that
they would have a chance."

     She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.  She and Mulder
weren't all that close now, but they had been once.  She wasn't used
to losing her friends, not like this - by cold blooded murder.  Chris
took one hand off the wheel and closed it over hers.  She flashed a
look of gratitude his way.

     As they drove, Candy pointed out various features of the storm
damage, which intensified as they neared their objective. She drew his
attention to the way the few trees on the landscape were twisted and
how the debris was scattered.  She sounded more like an archeologist
than a meteorologist.  "This is interesting, Chris - and encouraging.
I think the tornado was actually centered about half a mile over in
that direction.  You see how the ground is really churned up over
there?  It looks like there's a wrecked car over there, too.  I think
that's where the tornado actually struck.  So if the Practice Ground
didn't take a direct hit, maybe...."

     Chris pulled over.  The sun was peeking through the clouds,
low on the horizon. The storm was the shortest and smallest one to
date.  Figures, Chris thought - that the weather prediction was wrong,
to such a degree.  They got out and began to survey the debris around
them.

     "What's that...oh, God."  Candy turned away, white as a ghost.
"Chris - it looks like an arm."

     He went over to inspect her discovery.  "That's exactly what
it is.  A man's left arm, it looks like."

     "Could it be Mulder?" she asked, praying not to hear an
affirmative answer.

     "Not unless he was in the habit of wearing large, gaudy pinkie
rings," he replied.  "Somehow Mulder didn't strike me as that type."

     "No.  Oh thank God, it isn't him.  I wonder where the rest of
that guy is?"

     "He may have been in that car out there, maybe got sucked out
through the window, or had some flying glass hit him or something.
It's a pretty clean amputation.  I expect we'll be seeing more of
him... here and there."

     "Chris!"

     "Sorry - gallows humor.  An occupational hazard."  He smiled
apologetically.  "Are you alright?"

     "Yeah, I think so."  He gave her a reassuring pat, and went
back to scanning the landscape.

     "Hey, the trenches are over here."  She hurried over to where
he was standing.

     "There's so many of them."

     "And they're half full of water and mud, which won't make
searching any easier.  Well, let's get going."

     Candy peered down, close to the edge of the nearest trench.
The waterlogged ground began to give under her feet and Chris caught
her by the arm. "Whoa. Wouldn't want you to fall in there, that's
about six feet straight down into mud."
 
     "Thanks."  For a moment their eyes met and to them the world
just stopped.

     "Um... I think we should be getting on with the search."

     "Yeah, me too,"  Candy replied, a little breathlessly.

     They split up, walking carefully down the length of each
trench, looking as best they could through the standing water, mud and
debris.

     Suddenly Chris called out.  "Hey. Over here!"  He was crouched
down by the end of a trench.

     "What is it?"

     "I think it's a body."  With a solemn look at her, he jumped
down into the trench, covering himself with mud in the process.  He
spat mud from his mouth and leaned over the prostrate form.

     Only by the size did Chris assume that the body was female.
With his heart pounding, he turned the still form over.  Candy watched
as he remained motionless for a long moment.  "Is it Dana?"

     He looked up at her, his relief obvious.  "No. No, it isn't.
Someone older, with a lot of jewelry on - well, what's left of it
anyway.  Maybe the companion of the guy that lost his arm.  Look, I'm
coming up to try to find something to mark this place.  When the
sheriff comes, he'll be able to find the body to pick it up."  He
clambered out of the trench and trotted several yards away to a
boulder, which he began to roll toward the trench.  Tiring of the slow
progress, he lifted the rock and staggered back.

     Candy was staring at something in the trench she had been
searching.  He came up behind her with the rock. "What is it?" She
could hear the effort in his voice.

     "Put that boulder down before you strain something you'll
regret.  I thought I saw something move down there."

     Chris dropped the rock and peered over the edge.  "Must have
been your imagination."  He rolled, kicked and pushed the rock over to
the side of the trench containing the woman's body, marking it for the
search and rescue teams to come.

     Candy continued to stare down to the far end of the trench.
Then it moved again.  "Chris, Chris!  There's someone alive down
here."

     He ran over and jumped blindly into the trench.  He turned the
struggling person over carefully. "My God!"

     "What, who is it?"

     "It's Dana!"

     Chris gently wiped the mud from her face and eyes with the one
clean corner of his jacket. "Dana, it's me, Chris.  Where's your
partner?  Where's Mulder?"  Her whole body jerked as she coughed.

     "I...don't know.  He was with me.  He dug a hole in the side
of the trench and we crawled in.  The wind - it was so strong.  He was
dragged..."
  
     "Sshh, it's okay.  Stay still for a minute."  He carefully
held her and checked her body for broken bones.  "Candy, go to the
jeep and get the first aid kit and a blanket and bring them back here.
Then get on the phone, call the sheriff, and tell him to get an
ambulance out here.  Tell him we have a body, a missing person and
someone with injuries.  Go!"  Candy stared at him in shock, her mind
mostly on where Mulder could be, and in what condition.  Then she ran
for the jeep.

     Fairly sure she had no broken bones, Chris and Candy got
Scully out of the trench.  Throughout the procedure she was protesting
that they should leave her to find Mulder.  By some miracle, other
than some extensive bruising and lots of scratches and cuts, she
seemed unharmed.  But she was shaking with cold and shock, and far
more pale than he had ever seen her.  Chris had a hard time keeping
her quiet and still, and at the same time attending to Candy, who was
certain that Mulder was dead somewhere under all the mud.

     The sheriff and emergency crew were out there in record time,
but even so, the daylight had faded.  Chris didn't even bother
reasoning with Scully, but helped her to the stretcher and told the
crew to get her to Thunder Butte.

     "Hold it right there," she said to the attendants in her best
doctor tone.  "Chris, we have to find Mulder, he's probably hurt."
Almost to herself, she murmured, "He always gets hurt.  He needs me."
     
     "Dana, I promise I will conduct the search myself.  Based on
what you told me about the water and Candy's observations about the
storm, he's probably not far from here."

     "I can help you.  I've been trained in this sort of thing. And
there's no other doctor here."

     "Listen, Ms. FBI.  I've worked with the Red Cross for quite a
while now and I've conducted a lot of searches.  You aren't going to
do anybody any good being here.  Go get checked out by the doctor in
Thunder Butte, and get into some warm, dry clothes.  You don't realize
it, but you're in shock."

     "After I'm checked out, I'm coming back here."  Seeing his
expression, she stopped his protest.  "Chris, I have to... Mulder's my
partner, and he saved my life."  He cupped his hand to her face.  He
had lost a partner, a friend - more - to a storm, and knew what she
was feeling.

     "Yes, of course.  Now go."  He nodded at the attendants and
they slid her in the back of the waiting vehicle.

     He stood and watched, buffetted by the cold wind, as the red
tail lights of the ambulance disappeared in the distance.


End of Chapter Seven



Chapter Eight

Near Thunder Butte
Friday
6:00 p.m.


     When the water flash flooded the trench, sweeping them from
their shelf, Mulder had had a hard enough time protecting Scully, let
alone himself.  In moments, the current had torn her from his grasp,
separating them.  Figuring all those laps in the Bureau's pool should
be worth something, he let the current take him.  What he hadn't
counted on was that the trench had no outlet.  The force of the water
hurled him against the cement-hard wall at the end of the trench like
a rag doll.  The last thing he remembered was a huge wave of water
heading right for him.
  
     He found himself covered in mud and face down. He looked up
and saw that the stars were shining against a moonless, pitch-black
sky.  He slowly turned himself over and tried to inhale the cold fresh
air, quite a change from the slow suffocation of the mud. Instead, he
started to cough and nearly passed out again.  He slowly and gingerly
ran his hand down his chest wall, inspecting his ribs, and confirming
what he already suspected.  "Great," he rasped.  The temperature was
dropping rapidly, near freezing now, and he was soaked to the skin.
His right shoulder felt like it was on fire and his midsection hurt
like hell.  As he slipped into unconsciousness again, his last thought
was that, all things considered, passing out didn't seem like a bad
alternative.


Near Thunder Butte, South Dakota
Friday
6:30 p.m.


     Scully got back to the search command area within an hour of
her departure and found Chris pouring over a map with the Sheriff.

     "Did you find him?"  she demanded.

     "Dana, what are you doing here?"  He walked over to her and
made her sit down on some crates.

     "I told you I was coming back. What are you doing here?  Why
aren't you out looking?  How many do you have searching?  Did you set
up search teams?"

     "We're doing what we can.  It's getting colder out and
with no light, it's going to be difficult."

     "Well, he's got to be in the trench.  The water had to go
somewhere."

     "Dana!"  He waved his arms in the air, gesticulating wildly.  
"Each trench stretches for almost a quarter of a mile, and everything 
is embedded in mud.  We're doing everything we can do, but in the 
dark, with all that mud...."  

	She pushed him away. "You bastard, that's my partner out there, 
and my friend!  If you even *think* about ending this search...."

     "What?  What are you going to do?  Shoot me?"  Chris
understood her rage.  When Meg was killed he tried desperately to go
through the wreckage.  He refused to believe that she was dead.  They
physically had to pull him away,and for days all he could think about
was going through the wreckage.  "Dana, listen to me.  I understand
how you're feeling.  We aren't giving up. But you have to be patient.
Stay here.  When we find him, then it will be your turn.  I'm going to
go to the end with a crew and maybe we'll find him down there.  Okay?"

     She mumbled something under her breath and nodded yes.  Her
shoulders slumped in defeat.  "Where's Candy?"

     "She's down in the trenches, looking.  I've got to go."  He
turned, grabbed a flashlight and waved to a group of guys that were
standing around a thermos of coffee.  All of them trotted off down
toward the end of the trench.  Scully sat there and stared aimlessly
into space, wishing, praying Mulder was okay, and hating Candy because
she could help with the search.

		               - - - - -

     Mulder struggled to stay conscious as long as he could.  He
thought he could hear voices in the distance, and see the beam of
flashlights.  But each time he drew a breath to call out, the black
closed in again.  Each time he came to, his first thought was finding
Scully.  She just had to be okay.

		               - - - - -

     Chris and his two companions neared the end of the trench.
The two volunteers were moaning and groaning about everything, and he
was close to losing his temper.  He was angry at them for complaining,
angry at the weather, angry at his helplessness, and angry that he
would probably have to tell Dana that her best friend - her lover, for
all he knew - was dead.

     They were using the same techniques that avalanche rescuers
used, sticking long poles into the mud, hoping to find something that
didn't belong there.  Most everyone agreed that search was probably
hopeless.  Even if Mulder had survived the tornado, exposure to the
falling temperatures would be fatal.  But Dana wasn't giving up, nor
was he.

     Chris tripped over what he thought was a root, but shining his
flashlight down, he noticed a mud-covered shoe.  "Hey, over
here. Quick!"  Digging the mud from around the body, he found an arm
and placed shaking fingers to the wrist.  A pulse - weak and thready -
but at least he was alive.  The two volunteers arrived, huffing and
puffing, their complaints finally stopped. "You, go get a stretcher
and blankets.  We need to get him out of here - now."  The taller of
the two ran off down the trench, yelling "We found him!  We found
him!" over and over.

     Chris and the second man gently lifted Mulder out of the
trench and gingerly laid him on the grass, then boosted themselves up
to the level of the prairie.  Chris took off his jacket, draping it on
the unconscious man and instructed the nameless volunteer to do the
same.  Placing the flashlight on the ground, he noted Mulder's ashen
face.  It didn't look good.

     Scully tried running but her whole body hurt too much.  The
Sheriff, out of shape for several years, puffed along beside her.  The
EMT's reached Mulder first and placed him on a gurney.  By the time
Scully got there, he had been surrounded by hot packs and covered with
blankets, and was beginning to stir.  She bent over him. He reached
his hand up to her face, hardly daring to hope.

     "Scully?"  The voice was barely audible.

     She just had to touch him, then was sorry she had.  He was ice
cold.  "Oh, Mulder."  Tears welled up in her eyes.

     The medics began to roll the stretcher over the uneven ground.
Scully walked beside it, never relinquishing her grasp on Mulder's
hand.  Thoughts of his last hypothermic episode, in the Arctic,
invaded her mind, stealing away her hope.  An emergency chopper was on
its way, but for now they just hoped that the warmth of the ambulance
and the IV fluids they would give him would do some good.  And that it
would be enough.

  		                       - - - - -

Washington, D.C.
One month later


     When Mulder walked into the office, his partner was already
there.
 
     It was his first day back since their ordeal in South Dakota.
Once again, it had been close, very close.  He had been taken directly
to Rapid City, the nearest place with a trauma team equal to the task
before it.  It had been touch and go for a while, until they
discovered the source of the internal bleeding which made so many
transfusions necessary.  Once the surgery for the ruptured spleen was
over, he stabilized, but remained seriously ill for the next ten days
with an aspiration pneumonia from inhaling the filthy water of the
trench. The first two days, Scully was in the hospital as a patient
herself, receiving antibiotics for the same reason.  After her
discharge, she never actually left the hospital, just moved to the ICU
where her status as a medical doctor allowed her the special privilege
of being able to stay with Mulder constantly.  She half suspected that
the nurses had insisted, after trying to deal with her unruly partner
when she wasn't around.  When coughing wracked his body, she gently
splinted his chest, to try to somehow diminish the agony of his
fractured ribs.  She checked his chart more often than his own doctor,
and sorely tested the patience of the nurses who began to regret their
earlier decision to give her unlimited access to the unit.

     Finally, two weeks after the Thunder Butte tornado, they flew
home together.  Scully had been by his apartment daily since his
release from the hospital to make sure he was truly taking it easy,
and each time scolding him because he wasn't.

     "Hey!"  Her eyes lit up when he walked into the office.
Personally, she thought it was too soon for him to be back, but at
least in the office she had more control over him than when he was at
home.  "How ya feelin'?"

     He didn't answer immediately, then nodded as though he had had
to think about it. "Better."  He walked over to his desk and noticed
the falling stack of interoffice envelopes and memos, and file
folders.  He sighed, then abruptly stopped because of the sharp pain
in his chest.  He instinctively put his hand to his slow-to-heal ribs,
then quickly dropped it, hoping she hadn't noticed.

     "You okay?"  She had noticed.
  
     "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."  He gingerly sat down on his desk.  He
knew she had sat for days by his bedside.  Much of what happened
immediately after his rescue - the helicopter trip, the ER, the
surgery - he remembered only in seconds-long nightmare flashbacks.
His one abiding memory of the experience was that whenever he opened
his eyes, she was there - harranguing the nurses, arguing with his
doctors, injecting pain medication, or simply dozing in a chair next
to his bed, holding his hand.  So if she was being a little
over-protective, so what, he thought.  She had earned the right.  She
was his partner.

     "Well, this may give you a relapse.  Skinner wants to see us
sometime this morning."

     "Did he say why?"

     "No.  But I can hazard a guess."  She crossed the room to sit
on his mail-strewn desk.  What are you going to tell him?"

     "I don't know."  He had spoken to Skinner in the hospital and
needless to say, this meeting was going to be a continuation of that
conversation.  The AD wasn't too happy with the outcome of the case
and wanted a full report when they got back.  As so often happened,
there wasn't any evidence to substantiate his theories and he had to
lobby hard to get this case approved.

     "Well..."  she sighed and tried to think of something
comforting to say to him, but drew a blank.  She squeezed his 
hand and went back to the report on her desk.

     They went upstairs at the appointed time.  Skinner dressed
down his two best agents with his eyes.  "Agent Mulder, do you care to
explain what happened out in South Dakota?"  Mulder shifted nervously
in the chair.  Skinner had him by the balls this time.

     "Well, sir.  Agent Scully, Dr. McDermott and myself went to
investigate the occurrence of unexplained, unseasonal cyclonic
storms."

     "I'm aware of that - I signed the voucher.  Now, give me a
good reason why I shouldn't write up either of you for misuse of
government funds?"

     "Well, we..."  he looked to Scully for help.  Thankfully, his
silent plea was answered.

     "Sir, it wasn't a complete waste.  While we were there, I was
able to help with the emergency relief with the Red Cross."

     "Yes, I know."  He extended a crisp sheet of paper across the
desk to her.  "I have a letter of commendation for you from the Red
Cross Director of Rapid City."  She took the paper, blushing slightly.
"Agent Mulder, explain to me again how you two ended up in the middle
of nowhere, resulting in your injuries."

     Mulder sighed, carefully this time.  "We went to Ellsworth AFB
and talked to a Colonel Richardson."  A thought flashed through his
mind that all this was in the report, why was he having to retell the
story. Again.  "A Major Harrison detained us, held us captive for
almost 24 hours in inhumane conditions.  Then we were driven out onto
the prairie and abandoned.  They had put homing devices in our clothes
at one point, though I am still unclear when that happened.  Then they
focused a storm on our location."

     "They 'focused a storm' on your location," repeated the AD
slowly.  His dark eyes glittered, his gaze pinning them to their
chairs.  "It may interest you to know, Agent Mulder, that I called
Ellsworth AFB and there is no Colonel Richardson - hasn't been for two
months, since he was killed in an automobile accident.  As for Major
Harrison, he denied ever hearing of you and stated that there is no
record of your visit to his base.  He also denied the capability to do
any weather studies beyond what they would need to know for the
airbase to function."

     "Obviously, sir, he wasn't going to admit that he tried to
murder two Federal agents," Scully protested.

     "Sir, they've covered up the evidence, surely you can see
that.  You know how these people work."  It was happening to him again
and Mulder was finding it hard to contain his anger.  "Do you think we
were out there for a nice walk?  We were almost killed!"

     "Agent Mulder, I can only go on what I see - that you two went
on a wild goose chase.  In the future, I expect evidence and facts to
support your theories.  The next time either of you present a case for
my review and approval, you'd better have more than just a few
newspaper clippings and hearsay from a supposed expert.  Do I make
myself clear?"

     "Yes, sir."  

     "Yes, sir."
  
     "Good, you're both dismissed.  I want a detailed report on my
desk by the end of the week.  This report you handed in is totally
unacceptable."  He handed back the government issue folder back to
Mulder.  The two agents left, closing the door behind them with
somewhat more force than was necessary.  Skinner sat back in his
chair, staring after them, his brow furrowed.  Then he reached for his
phone.

     Scully and Mulder worked silently on their reports, trying to
include as much detail as possible.  When their initial outrage had
faded, they began to wonder once more about their boss's place in the
picture.  They had met Skinner's wrath before and what they had just
experienced was nothing.  They were becoming masters at seeing beyond
the enigmatic facade that Skinner could assume, for reasons of his
own.  This time they figured that the AD also believed there was
something going on, but there was pressure from above.  But the office
was not the place to discuss it.

     There was a knock at the door and they were both startled to
see the two figures in the doorway.

     "Candy!"  exclaimed Mulder.

     "Chris!" smiled Scully.  
 
     Candy walked over to Mulder, kissing him and then enveloping
him in a huge bearhug. Mulder winced and pulled away in pain, then
tried to cover his reaction.  Chris walked over and gave Scully a
polite peck on the cheek.

     "How did you two get in here?"  asked Scully.

     Chris laughed. "I told the guard we had an appointment.  When
they found out who we were visiting, they let us go right through, and
they even gave us directions."

     "Probably didn't even make you go through the metal and bomb
detector, either," Mulder muttered.

     "We thought we would invite you two to dinner," said Candy.
She stood at Mulder's side and gave his butt a discrete but friendly
squeeze.  It served only to remind the poor battered agent that he
wasn't well enough for a repeat performance of the last time they had
'dinner'.

     Chris turned to Scully, "Yeah, we wanted to celebrate with our
closest friends."

     "Celebrate?  Celebrate what?"

     "Our engagement."  Candy held out her hand for Mulder's
inspection.

     "No hard feelings, I hope, Mulder,"  said Chris.

     "No, I'm very happy for you.  But if you don't mind, I'd like
a raincheck."

     "But, Scorpy!   Why?"

     "I'm just not feeling up to it. First day back at work, you
know....  Congratulations, though."  He sat down gingerly in his 
chair.

     "Scully, you want to come?"  Chris grabbed her hand.

     "I think I'll take that raincheck too.  There's so much here
to catch up on."  Chris understood perfectly what she really meant -
that she wanted to keep an eye on Mulder.

     "Alright then, maybe when Candy and I get back."

     "Back?  Back from where?"

     "Yeah, we're going to do some refugee work in Ethiopia."

     "Oh, Chris.  But what if...."  Scully put her hand on his arm,
remembering the horrible story of what happened to the love of his
life the last time he was far from home.

     "It's okay, Dana.  There are no tornadoes or monsoons there.
Besides, I think I can do the most good there."

     "Candy," asked Mulder, "What about your career?"

     "Chris is my career now.  Where he goes, I go.  Besides, I'm
sure they could use the help of an accomplished meteorologist."

     "Hey babe, we have an appointment in half an hour, we'd better
get going."  Candy bent down to kiss Mulder gently on the cheek and
Chris did the same with Scully.

     After they left, Scully turned toward Mulder who looked lost
in thought.  "Are you okay about that?  Their getting married and
all?"

     He snorted.  "Couldn't be okay-er.  I give it two months."

     She went over and perched on the edge of his desk.  "Is that
your natural-born cynicism talking?  Or sour grapes?"  She grinned
impertinently down at him.

     "No. Chris is stuck with the sour grapes, and good luck to
him."  He looked up, catching her gaze, a warm, almost shy smile
softening his features.  "No, what I have is far sweeter."

     Scully felt a warm flush suffusing her from the toes
up. Neither said anything for several long minutes.  Finally, Mulder
broke the silence.

     "How about I buy my favorite partner dinner tonight?  In any
restaurant you choose."

     "Mulder, I'm your ONLY partner."  

     "And my favorite."

     The door closed behind their darkened office.  


The End of Twister