Auto-Erotic Humiliation

NOTE: STORIES IN THIS ARCHIVE ARE INTENDED FOR READERS AGED 18 AND OVER.

All characters copyright 1997 1013 Productions, which means, basically, Chris Carter. Best read with Mark Snow's X-Files soundtrack in the background. Please consult your doctor or pharmacist before reading these stories. Do not expose to electricity. Do not expose to light. If you miss a dose, do not double up on the next dose. Void where prohibited by natural law. Klaatu Barada Niktu. They made this. The author does not condone any of the activities alluded to in these stories, no matter how much fun they are.

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Auto-Erotic Humiliation I

by the Hoot Island Writing Collective

10:15 p.m., January 24
Washington, DC

10 more steps to go, she thought. Maybe I didn't need to talk to Mulder that badly...

Agent Dana Scully, Federal Bureau of Investigation, currently assigned to the X-Files division, halted at the top of a narrow stairway and took a deep breath before setting off down the hallway. I hope he didn't decide to turn in early tonight, I want to get our reports ready before tomorrow.

She knocked twice and called out, "Mulder! It's me." Almost immediately a scream came from within the apartment. Scully started, surprised, and began pulling at the doorknob. "Mulder!" she yelled. Abruptly the door flew open, knocking her off-balance just enough for a frantic blonde woman wrapped in a trenchcoat to push past her and down the stairs. Scully pulled her gun and moved quickly into the apartment.

"Mulder? Where are you?" Gun at the ready, she moved from corner to corner rapidly searching the rooms until she burst into Mulder's bedroom and nearly screamed herself. His bed was in disarray but Mulder himself was in the middle of the room, nude, handcuffed and apparently unconscious, held up only by a necktie attached to the ceiling fan. "Mulder!" she cried as she shoved her gun in its holster and ran to her partner's side.

He wasn't breathing.

Horrified, Scully began desperately searching for something, anything sharp and grabbed a letter opener on his desk. She slashed the necktie and barely managed to catch him before he collapsed to the ground. Scully straightened him out and began artificial respiration, trying to see any other possible injuries while blowing life-giving breath into his mouth. No obvious bruises, no visible bleeding. A small part of her mind noticed some results of his condition and marveled at how the human body fights to reproduce itself even at the point of death.

After a few timeless moments Mulder began to stir and breath on his own. Scully rose immediately and observed him carefully as he coughed and fought to draw in air. She let him settle down after she was certain he would continue breathing and performed some quick reflex checks before talking to him. "Mulder? It's Dana, can you hear me? Just nod if you can." Mulder nodded and began struggling. "Oh, right, hold still for a minute," she said, and she jumped up to find the handcuff keys. Fortunately they were on the bedside table and Mulder was soon lying still underneath a blanket, breathing deeply. Scully looked at him for a second, considering her words, before speaking.

"Mulder, I'd like to call an ambulance and get you to a doctor, but I need to ask, was this a suicide attempt?" Mulder shook his head violently no, then winced and held his head in his hands like a basketball and groaned. "Was it torture? Was... oh my God, that woman who ran by me!" Scully leapt to her feet and began to run for the door when Mulder's voice stopped her.

"Scully," he rasped. "Let her go, it's not her fault. Oh, my head." He sat up and she stooped to help him, confused beyond reason. As he sat there, groaning softly, she started putting hints together and looked at him with new eyes. "Mulder, what the hell were you doing?"

He struggled to get up and after realizing he meant it, she helped him stand. He steadied himself by holding on the bedpost, then looked at her. "No hospitals, Scully. And I'd really rather not go into it right now." He took a few staggering steps towards the bathroom before turning back slightly. "Thanks." He disappeared into the bathroom.

 

Scully stared at the bathroom door for a few seconds in open-mouthed amazement before turning away and thinking furiously. Sure, fine, whatever. She looked around the room searching for anything that could shed some light on this new and unsettling aspect to her partner. What the hell did I just walk in on here? Dirty magazines are one thing, but... Sheets and Mulder's clothes scattered about, the remains of the silk tie a bright spot in the middle of the floor, two empty glasses on the nightstand next to a half a bottle of whiskey, obviously the setting of an abbreviated romance. Scully suddenly felt extremely out-of-place.

Keeping herself firmly in the "agent" mode, she looked a bit more carefully. One of the glasses had lipstick on the rim, most likely "hers". Or maybe I shouldn't make assumptions anymore... she thought to herself. She sniffed it; whiskey. On a hunch she checked the other glass and caught a whiff of something decidedly non-alcoholic. Nothing else in the room looked likely so she tried under the bed. Bingo! Looks like Blondie's purse spilled. A lipstick, an envelope and a small empty vial. Scully opened the vial, carefully brought it to her nose and immediately recognized the distinctive odor of chloral hydrate.

 

Mulder emerged from the bathroom to find Scully sitting on his bed waiting for him. "Um, Scully, I'm okay. I'd just like to get some rest." His voice was a bit thick, but at least he was breathing normally.

"She tried to kill you, Mulder."

"It's not like that, it was just an experiment." He pulled his robe a little tighter and thudded heavily on the bed next to her.

"Whose experiment?"

He sat quietly for a few moments. "It seemed to be a good idea at the time," he said finally.

Scully held up the vial. "I'm sure it did. Chloral hydrate makes a terrible chaser."

"What?" He reached for the vial but she pushed his hand back easily.

"I think you've had enough, Mulder. You didn't know this was in your drink?" He shook his head. She took a deep breath. "I think maybe you'd better tell me what happened."

Mulder sat still for a long time, arms on his knees, head hanging down. She looked away to give him a little time. Finally he shuddered. "She came over and we had dinner. We came back here and talked for awhile. We had a few drinks and started sharing... stories."

"Stories?" One eyebrow arched into her hairline.

"All right, fantasies. She told me hers, I mentioned a few of mine, don't you do this on your dates, Scully?"

Scully, momentarily distracted by speculation on Mulder's "stories", was caught off guard. "What? Yes. No! All due respect, Mulder, my fantasies don't generally require life-saving measures."

Mulder smiled ruefully. "Neither do mine, usually. I mean, I don't think they do."

"Who's idea was the... um, necktie?"

"It was all we could find."

"Mulder..."

He rubbed his hand over his face. "I honestly couldn't tell you. We were talking, and she was getting, you know, interested, and... I really don't know." He sat up straighter, a look of concern on his face. "Scully, I really don't know."

"You were drugged, you weren't in control of your actions. What was she doing while you were, you know, up there?"

Good Lord, he was blushing. "Well, she said I needed something to watch, so..."

"Never mind. That's all I needed to know. Mulder, you need to see a doctor."

"You are a doctor. And you have definitely seen me." Pause. "Are you blushing, Scully?"

"No. We need to get you to a hospital and get you checked out, there could be permanent damage." She stood up and turned back to help him.

He laid back on the bed and began pulling blankets over himself. "I'm all right, I'll be fine. I just need some sleep."

Scully hesitated, then said, "Okay. I'll be in the next room if you need me." She walked to the door and paused, then turned back. "Um, Mulder?"

A sleepy voice. "Yeah?"

"We have to report this, you know."

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Auto-Erotic Humiliation II

by the Hoot Island Writing Collective

9:35 a.m., January 25
FBI Headquarters - Washington, DC

Assistant Director Skinner looked up from the file folder he was holding. "'Stories', Agent Mulder? Is this a joke?"

Mulder glanced at Scully for a second, then turned back. Dark bruises flowered completely around his neck, disappearing into his collar. "No sir. Stories."

Skinner pulled both reports out and scanned them again, shaking his head. "All right. I'm going to assume these are serious accounts of whatever happened last night and treat this as a murder attempt on one of my agents. This is what you had in mind?" Both agents nodded. "I couldn't help noticing, Agent Mulder, a few missing facts from your report. For instance, the name of the woman who may have tried to kill you."

Mulder sat up a little straighter. "I would rather not divulge that at this time, sir."

"Well, it makes the investigation just a little bit tougher when I have to be on the lookout for "a blonde woman", Mulder. I'm going to have to ask for her name, her address, where you met her, in fact any information at all about her that you may currently be in possession of."

"Sir, I'm not certain that she was trying to kill me and revealing her identity at this point might endanger her life from other sources."

Skinner turned to Scully. "Agent Scully, do you have any information to add to this? I'd rather not have to cut one of my agents down to put him in a body bag. It reflects poorly on my end-of-year report."

Scully looked at Mulder, who stared impassively back. "Sir, everything I know is in my report."

Skinner leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'm at a loss as to what, exactly, you expect me to do now. Are these really the reports you wish to file?"

"We wanted you to be apprised of the situation and aware of our investigations," Mulder answered.

"Consider me apprised. Now if you'll excuse me, Agent Mulder, I have work to do. Agent Scully, I need to see you for a moment."

Mulder gave Scully a sidelong look as he left the office. Scully raised her eyebrow minutely, but said nothing as Mulder shut the door.

 

Personnel in the FBI offices turned to stare as Mulder and Scully walked past. Mulder rubbed his throat absent-mindedly. "It's like coming to work with the world's largest hickey," he muttered.

"What now?"

"I need to go talk to her. Can you run a check on the contents of the glasses and the vial and make sure you were right?"

Scully smiled. "Sure." She reached in her briefcase and produced a sheet of paper. "Chloral Hydrate, Mulder. In the vial and in one glass. Yours. I assume yours was the one without the lipstick."

"Never assume, Scully." He smiled at her restraint. "Raspberry would not be my choice, though."

"All right. So, do you want to have her brought in or would you rather we visit her for a private interview?"

"I prefer to handle this alone."

"Since you're the victim in this, I believe that is unwise. Besides," Scully snapped her briefcase shut, "I am under strict orders to not let you out of my sight."

 

Washington traffic was never the best to drive through and the snow wasn't helping. Mulder kept most of his attention on not plowing into the car ahead of them while he answered Scully's questions. "Her name's Marita. Marita Covarrubias. She works at the United Nations. She should be there now. I met her when I was checking out that clone farm."

"So that was the woman you had me get you the address for? I pimped for you?"

" Don't worry, you'll get your cut."

"So why would she try to kill you?"

"We still don't know for a fact she did. Maybe she was just trying to loosen me up."

"Are you suggesting it was date rape?"

"No, but... it doesn't seem right. She's helped me in the past and she seemed supportive of the truth."

Scully stared straight ahead. "The truth is, she tried to kill you."

"I mean, perhaps she was trying to get information from me and things got out of hand."

She just looked at him. "Do you really believe that, or are you just trying to believe that?"

Mulder stared straight ahead, his voice betraying none of his inner emotion. "I want to believe."

 

The Office of the Special Representative to the Secretary General had no record whatsoever of Marita Covarrubias ever working for the United Nations in any capacity.

 

They pulled up in front of a Georgetown townhouse and stopped. "Just let me talk to her for a few minutes."

"Mulder, it's freezing. I did not come along to wait in the car."

"I'll leave the heat on. You can play with the radio. Let me see if she's here. I promise I won't drink anything."

Scully considered it, then glanced at her watch before crossed her arms. "You've got five minutes. Go."

He hurried off. She watched him approach the front door and ring the bell. A moment later the door opened and Mulder stepped inside.

Long minutes passed. Scully had her hand on the handle when Mulder came back out. He walked back to the car, opened the door and sat down heavily. "Well?"

"The lady moved out, not 12 hours ago. Said she had a family emergency."

Scully slumped in her seat. "Fancy that."

Mulder held up a slip of paper. "She rented it under the name 'Julie Engels'. You want to run the check or shall I?"

A quick call to Records provided the following information; 'Julie Engels' moved here a year ago from Ramsey, Indiana, she is 30 years old, she works as a temp for the United Nations secretarial pool, and her credit listing included a motel room rented 3 hours previous.

 

11:40 p.m.
Dew Drop Inn, Washington D.C.

 

The Dew Drop Inn was a collection of 15 small efficiency bungalows. 12 of them were vacant. One contained a visiting Pakistani couple, one (presumably) contained Julie Marita Engels Covarrubias, and one now contained two FBI agents.

Scully looked at the bed dubiously. "Did you request a waterbed?"

"They all have waterbeds. I think we were the only guests who wanted to stay longer than an hour." He jumped onto the bed and rolled with the wave action. "Fun," he grinned.

"Of late, I question your idea of fun, Mulder." Scully walked to the window and peered across the parking lot at the room containing Marita. "How much time do you want to give her?"

Mulder walked over and peered over Scully's shoulder. "We'll give her some time. I think someone else wants to talk to her."

She turned and looked up at him in surprise. "Who?"

He shrugged. "Conspiracies abound, Dana."

"Conspiracies or your imagination." She turned back toward the window and their target. It was going to be a long night. She sighed and reached for the phone book. "Pizza?"

 

The front door flew open and Marita was there, still wearing the trenchcoat from the night before. Mulder gave her a brief smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk. We need to clear up any misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?"

She nodded. "There are things beyond all our control."

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "You're claiming a conspiracy?"

She laughed. "Not everything is a 'conspiracy'. Sometimes things happen because nature dictates it." She smiled and then she was gloriously naked, holding her arms out to him. He rose from the bed and met her in a desperate embrace, kissing her hungrily as she clutched at his clothing. She pulled away just enough for her purposes, leaving him with his shirt open and pants down. Mulder's penis was pointing up in a lazy arch, bobbing as he moved. Her eyes followed it as if hypnotized. Roughly he pushed her against the wall and entered her in one brutal motion, slamming back and forth again and again as the audience roared its approval. As he reached between them to squeeze her breasts, Scully screamed as she shuddered in orgasmic... Me? What am I... ?

 

Scully woke abruptly, feeling cramped and awkward. She had nearly curled into a fetal position on the bed, her back hurt and there was something uncomfortable under her cheek. She laid there silently for a moment with her eyes still closed, trying to gather her thoughts and somehow get herself under control. Her heart was beating wildly, and she felt the blood rise in her cheeks as she became aware of other, more intimate signs of her reaction.

'My God, what brought that on,' she wondered. 'I've never had dreams like that. Well, yes, I have, but never that... forceful.' She took a deep breath and caught herself starting to rub her thighs together. She stopped immediately, horrified and aroused, and forced herself to lay perfectly still. 'There is no way I will ever let Mulder see me like this. I will get up, go to the bathroom, calm down, and get past this.' Her plan decided, she opened her eyes and realized she had fallen asleep in Mulder's lap.

She looked down the length of his legs to see the tv turned to a basketball game. He hadn't moved or made a sound, but he seemed tense. And then she realized what was she was laying on, and why it was so uncomfortable.

'Oh, my God,' she thought. 'Please, please, please let him be asleep.' In perhaps the bravest action ever performed by Agent Dana Scully, FBI, she carefully lifted her head away from Mulder's tented trousers and looked him straight in his eyes. His open eyes.

"Good morning, Scully," he said carefully. His steady gaze never left hers. She looked down while she pulled herself into a sitting position next to him, ignoring the feelings in her body.

"Morning. What time is it?"

"About 3. No signs yet, I think she's settled in for the night. I ran a check while you were asleep, she hasn't made or received any phone calls." He stretched and yawned, a move which (coincidentally?) let his knee rise up to cover any evidence. Scully glanced back up in time to see him watching her face. Was she still blushing?

In the few times she had allowed herself to imagine anything intimate happening between herself and her partner, Scully had always known she would meet him as an equal, giving and receiving in a loving and challenging relationship. Instead she found herself flustered and on the defensive, the same way she did in almost all their investigations, and it kindled a slow anger inside her. Okay, she knew nothing about alien abduction, telepathy, spontaneous combustion or ghosts, but dammit she wasn't a teenager! Frustration, physical and mental, goaded her into being more direct than she would have dreamed otherwise.

"Mulder, whatever possessed you to hang yourself from a ceiling fan?"

He winced and shifted uncomfortably. "Be reasonable, Scully, the light fixture would never support my weight."

"For once, I need a straight answer, and I need it now. I'm going up against an enemy who knows more about you than I do and she's using that knowledge to kill or at least discredit you, and I think we're adult enough to talk about this."

Mulder smiled. "You're beautiful when you're angry."

"I'm trying to protect your life, I can do without the jokes for right now. Did she force you to do that or is this an everyday thing?"

"Look, we should get some rest, we... urk!" He started violently as Scully, eyes flashing, thrust her hand down and firmly grabbed the front of his pants.

"Now that I have," she said through clenched teeth, "your undivided attention, I would appreciate it if you would answer the question."

"Dana, I... ow! Um, it was an experiment," he said, quietly. He thought for a moment. "Do you remember Clyde Bruckman?"

"The psychic insurance salesman?"

"When we were driving him around I was trying to get him to talk about how he could "see" people's deaths, and he looked at me and started talking about how undignified auto-erotic asphyxiation was. I'm still not sure if he was joking."

Scully cocked an eyebrow. "So you decided to find out. Did he sell you insurance?" She caught herself. "No, we're being serious. So how did that lead into...?"

"Something about psychic predictions has always bothered me. For someone to be capable of accurately describing an event in the future, it would require that the event has already happened in a fixed and immutable manner and that nothing I can do can affect it. Of all the things I believe in, Scully, predestination is not one of them." He shifted slightly. "I don't like something or someone else controlling my actions."

"So you picked masochism?"

"Not as a lifestyle choice, no, but as a way of proving that I could come through this and defy my 'fate'."

"Mulder, I feel I should point out a few things. One, that Bruckman did not say when this would happen if it happens, two, that all you've proved is that you didn't die this time, and three, that this still to my way of thinking does not justify nearly killing yourself in a sexual encounter with a woman whom, according to you, you hardly know."

He shrugged. "That's probably where the drinking part came in. We got to talking and she asked if I had any fantasies. For some reason that popped into my mind. I wasn't serious, really, but she seemed to like the idea and, well..."

"Did it never occur to you how stupid that is? Mulder, hundreds of people die every year in these sorts of misguided 'accidents'!"

"It didn't start out like that, it just, I don't know. What with the last few cases and the stress we've been under I haven't been thinking too clearly about my personal relationships. It appears to be a failing of mine. At least she didn't try to bite my neck."

"What?"

"Nothing. Scully, I feel I should point out something."

"And what's that?"

"You're stroking me."

Scully looked down in surprise to see that her hand had, almost of its own accord, been lazily caressing the bulge beneath her fingers. She stopped stroking but left her hand there and looked up into piercing grey eyes. "Mulder," she began.

Gunshots shattered the window above them. They dove off the bed in opposite directions before the glass finished landing, Scully drawing her gun while Mulder crept up to the window sill. The sounds of a car acreeching its tires on gravel akmost overrode his cursing. "She's gone," he said.

Scully peeked up from the side of the bed. "Who fired the shots? At whom?"

Mulder turned away from the window and slumped to the floor. "Well, now we get to start over." They looked at each other across the scattered bedclothes.

"Damn."

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Auto-Erotic Humiliation III

by the Hoot Island Writing Collective

3:35 a.m
The Washington Beltway

Scully put away her cell phone as Mulder stared accusingly at the slush whipping across the windshield. "I heard sirens coming up as we left, someone must have reported the shots."

Silence from Mulder as he slipped the car in and out of traffic. "Mulder?" The car lurched to the left to avoid a furniture truck and she braced herself against the seat. "I don't think this is getting us anywhere."

Mulder grimaced and eased the gas pedal down another inch. "I think that's her up ahead," he said. Scully peered out into the speeding gloom to see faint points of red far in the distance.

"Should I call for a roadblock?"

"No. I can get her." He leaned further over the wheel.

Scully bit back her first answer and took a moment to study him discreetly. Mulder seemed overly tense, almost frantic. His hands kept tapping the wheel in a repetitive, faintly annoying rhythm. She sat back and worked on controlling her breathing.

When they finally caught up to the taillights and discovered they belonged to an ancient Volvo driven by an even more ancient old man, Mulder pulled the car off the road and got out, slamming the door behind him. "Damn!"

He had almost calmed down by the time Scully got out a few minutes later and looked at him over the roof of the car, cell phone in hand. "She's not going far tonight, the airport's suspended flights until the weather clears and we can have people in the train stations in a few minutes."

He let his chin drop onto his hands on the car roof. "These roads are liable to kill her before we can catch her. If she didn't leave yesterday when the roads were plowed she's not likely to leave tonight, so where would she go?"

She started to answer when her phone chirped. "Scully. Yes, we... what?" Phone to her ear, she looked up at Mulder with widening eyes. "We'll be right there." She flipped the phone shut. "It was the officer at the motel. They found someone in Marita's bungalow."

"Who?"

"Apparantly, Marita."

Mulder stared at her for a long moment before they rushed back into the car.

Pretty speedy official response for a neighborhood like this, Mulder thought. He stood in the bungalow's doorway watching Scully examine an alert, unharmed and totally unresponsive Marita. Marita was sitting primly in the room's only chair, ankles crossed and hands in her lap. Scully picked up her hand and watched as it remained there until Scully pushed it back down. Kneeling next to her was a young EMT who was still taking Marita's vital signs and shaking his head slowly. His shoulder brushed up against Scully's occasionally and Mulder felt a sudden tightening in his throat. He shook his head, popped a mint into his mouth and turned away for a moment.

'Jealous, Spooky?' he thought angrily to himself. 'C'mon, one accidental hand job does not a commitment make. This thing has got you all screwed up and your defenses are down. Let it go." Unbidden, the sensation of Scully's fingers through the fabric of his pants drifted up from his memory; as he pretended to examine the motel room, he felt he could smell her hair. An image of a barely clad Dana ministering to him the way Marita had that night slipped into his mind. 'Not that it wouldn't be a hell of a lot of fun ...'

His fantasy Scully looked up the length of his body and said coyly, "There are no apparent signs of trauma".

Mulder's mental state suddenly lurched as he fought to focus on a considerably more conservatively dressed partner. "Oh. Um, yeah... Does it appear to be drug induced?"

"We'll have to wait for the toxicology reports to be sure, but my cursory examination didn't reveal any of the usual signs. They'll take her into Georgetown for evaluation for now." She paused. "Are you OK?"

"Fine! Fine. Is there a possibility this is symptomatic of some psychiatric disorder? I noticed she was showing some waxy flexibility..."

"Well, maybe the trauma of trying to kill you and failing pushed her over the edge. Mulder, there's a couple of hundred things that could be wrong, we'll have to wait and see. Let's get out of here, she'll be taken care of. Anything else here?"

"Not out in the open. Let's check. Be thorough, it's starting to sound as if she was a pro."

"Good, so am I."

Scully closed the bathroom door and began looking through the various personal effects. 'Okay, Dana, pull yourself together. That was probably the sloppiest examination you've done in years. Let's be professional, shall we?' Nothing unusual on the sink, nothing conveniently labeled "clue" in the tub. She picked up the makeup case laying on the counter and looked inside. 'Blush, uncapped lipstick, all the usual, no peroxide, damn. I guess she was a natural blonde. Anything else?" She emptied it and ran her hand slowly over the outside, concentrating on the feel of the soft leather. 'Wait, there's a bulge. Second one tonight... damn it!"

She set the case on the sink and stared angrily in the mirror. 'Let it go, you idiot. It was an accident, he knows that. There's nothing there for you." Pause. "Okay, there is something there, but it's respect, friendship, trust. There's no room for anything else and you don't have time to let your personal feelings corrode your judgment. After this is over you can talk to Mulder about it if you still need to, but until then keep your mind on this case." The Scully in the mirror seemed skeptical, and slightly obscured.... Her eyes widened under raised eyebrows. "Mulder, you may want to see this..."

The tech kept watching Scully as she left until he saw her partner glaring at him, so he stopped and began eyeing Mulder in an similarly appraising fashion. Mulder felt a blush rising and did his best to ignore it as he searched through Marita's few personal effects. When he heard Scully's call he straightened and nodded toward Marita's still form. "Make sure she stays put." The EMT grinned and turned back toward his patient.

Mulder entered the bathroom and saw Scully. For a brief moment a vision of her stood before him as the bathroom light reflected from the highlights of her hair. He blinked and Scully turned, nodding toward the mirror.

"Spelled out for us, huh?" she said.

Mulder glanced at the mirror. Written in lipstick on the bottom corner of the mirror, where the makeup case had hidden it, were the words 'A Clue'. "Holmes, however do you do it? Talk about crack investigating. What do you make of it?"

"Forensics would be interested. Block writing, could be from anyone. Most likely by a right handed person."

Mulder leaned down to look closer. "Marita was left-handed."

Scully picked up the open lipstick, raised it to her ear and shook it slightly. "Mulder, there's something inside here." She turned the container over and inspected it, twisting it experimentally. The false bottom fell away and a small metal cylinder dropped onto her palm. She froze for a moment as Mulder gasped.

"Damn." He picked up the cylinder and held it against the light.

Scully glanced back and forth between Mulder and the horribly familiar cylinder. "An implant. We need to get her tested. Mulder, this could be what we've been looking for."

"But for what? It's possible it's an implant, but are you suggesting she's an abductee or that she's working for the abductors?"

"Or for one of the covert governmental agencies we've run into, or for the Easter Seals for all I know. What I'm wondering is whether she has one of her own, and whom that one was meant for. Maybe she didn't plan to kill you after all, Mulder. Maybe it was just your turn." She left the bathroom.

He fingered the implant, then frowned at the mirror. "Someone's playing with us, Scully."

"Mulder!" Scully's call crashed his thoughts. He went into the next room, now empty except for Scully. She was standing at the door, breathless. "They're gone!"

Mulder crossed to the door as Scully ran to the parking lot. "I don't believe this!" She turned toward the road as a car pulled in. It barely missed her as she stepped aside to peer down the road for the missing ambulance. She quickly ducked back in as three men in dark suits and sunglasses stepped out of the car.

Mulder stepped back into the room in time to slam the door behind his partner as she dashed inside. "Who are your friends?" he asked, peering through the curtains.

Scully stood back from the door, carefully staying out of the line of probable fire. "I don't know, but right now I'm assuming anybody in a suit is trouble," she said.

"Thanks a lot." He looked back out just in time to see the weapons coming from under the coats of the black clad men. "Whoops, company! Run!" Mulder took a step, then looked around wildly at the amazing lack of hiding places.

Scully grabbed his arm. "Out the back!" They raced into the bathroom and pulled themselves through the small window then froze, listening, until they heard the door crash from within. Mulder jerked his head to the left, they dashed into the shadows and made it across the street before the bungalow door flew back open and the men rushed out. Mulder jumped into the closest doorway and began tugging at the lock while Scully drew her gun and covered him.

"Mulder, we're too open here," she warned. The men were efficiently combing the parking lot and beginning to spread out. Their guns were very much in evidence and one of them was carrying an athletic bag. She wasn't sure of much at this point, but Scully was positive she didn't want to know what was in it.

"No problem," Mulder replied. He gave a final jerk to the knob, gave up and slammed his shoulder to the door. Within instants they were inside, securing the door behind them and looking around.

Scully held her gun ahead of her and began working her way forward. "A junkyard, Mulder?"

"Plenty of hiding spaces, lots of things to throw."

"And it was the first door?"

"And it was the first door."

"Well, there should be another way out of here. They probably heard us. C'mon."

Silent "phuts" accompanied the shots fired through the lock until the junkyard gate swung noisily open and the three men stepped warily though. They looked into the windows of the rundown office building before moving out into the yard. Training took over: one stayed by the gate, gun ready, while the other two began moving forward in a search pattern. Periodically one of them would fire randomly into the piles of automotive refuse.

Behind them on the roof of the office, two bedraggled FBI agents held very still and waited. The sewing machine sound of an Uzi echoed as rounds stitched their way across the piles of cans and auto parts. Carefully they eased themselves down behind where the last man stood waiting. The echoes of the weapons discharging covered their sounds as they began to sneak towards the door until suddenly, the lead man stopped abruptly and held his hand up. All activity stopped and Mulder and Scully scrambled to quietly hide behind the open door. Their breathing seemed impossibly loud as the men in black held still, listening.

From their hiding place they could see two of them huddle and have a whispered conversation. One of them took out his cell phone and dialed a number, but didn't put it to his ear. The two agents looked at each other in confusion until Scully's cell phone started chirping. The men in black whirled at the sound as Scully followed Mulder behind the low office building. Out of their line of sight, Mulder immediately dropped to the ground and dove into the crawlspace under the building, waving her after him as Scully gently tossed her still-ringing phone through the broken windshield of a dead car.

The sound of running feet caught up to them just as Scully's feet disappeared under the side. She scuttled through the crawlspace to land next to Mulder and they waited, breathing hard, to see which way to jump. Mulder moved next to her, shielding her body with his. His body heat reached her through her skirt and she realized, with the bizarre clarity of life-or-death situations, how aroused they both were. 'Does this happen every time,' she wondered dizzily, 'and I never allowed myself to notice, or is this something new?' She risked a look at Mulder but he appeared intent on searching out escape routes. The MIBs converged on the car and, with no warning, riddled it (and Scully's still ringing cellphone) with thunderous blasts. She tapped Mulder's shoulder and nodded, he jerked his head once in agreement and they pulled themselves out in front of the office and ran for the gate as the echoing automatic fire covered their steps.

Almost.

Bullets sprayed across the door before they reached it and it was only an impossible right-angle turn in the snow that saved Mulder. He sprawled, off-balance, and fought to recover as Scully leaped for the fence. The two agents hit the high chain-link fence and scaled it with a rapidity only fear and adrenaline could produce, sprawling onto the opposite side with a bone-jarring thud. They sprinted for their car, Mulder pausing to empty his own automatic into the radiator of the men-in-black's sedan. In seconds they were fishtailing out of the lot spraying sand and gravel as the MIBs came pounding after them. Scully forced their car through a series of twists and turns, running a couple of red lights and finally barreling the wrong way down a one way street and screeching into a strip mall parking lot. Scully killed the lights and engine and they sat in silence for a moment, listening to their own ragged breathing, the faint hiss of falling sleet, and the faint whine of sirens in the distance. Mulders breath was deep and rapid.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Wow, Dana Andretti. I didn't know you could drive like that."

"You drive like that all the time, I figured,why not? You sure you're all right? You're hyperventilating; you might be in shock."

"No, I'm fine," he said as she turned on the dome light and began to assess him visually. Her eyes scanned face, neck, chest arms, abdomen, waist. Then she saw he had an erection, and apparently quite a healthy one. "Oi, vey," Mulder groaned. His face was turning bright red. She continued her scan, partially to be sure he really was OK and partially so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

"Don't worry about it, Mulder. It's a normal reaction to a life-threatening event."

"Please turn the light off, Dana."

The dome light snapped off. "It's nothing to worry about, Mulder."

"Of course not, it's not happening to you."

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the night noises. Mulder felt Scully's hand settle over his own and grasp it firmly.

"What makes you think it isn't?"

He squeezed her hand tightly and looked up into her face. She was all but glowing in the reflected neon lights. Abruptly they were in each other's arms, kissing violently, as all the frustrations and dangers of the evening caught them up in a wave of physical hunger. Mulder pulled her closer to him, devouring her lips and tongue as he dropped a hand to her blouse only to discover her hand already there, pulling the silk aside and welcoming him in. He caressed her sweet curves, marveling at the heat he could feel through the lace as he tugged playfully at what had to be a marble in there. She did some searching of her own and quickly freed him from his increasingly constricting restraints until his penis burst free into the cool air and twitched in her hand. She pulled on him roughly as she met his hunger with her own.

She pulled away just long enough to whisper into his mouth, "You'd better not be a goddamn shape-changer..." She closed her eyes and moaned as he ran his hand down her blouse and under her skirt.

"Oh, I'm changing shape, all right... and it feels like you've started a fire..."

Scully started to say something about snapping on the latex when Mulder's finger slipped inside her and her head slammed back involuntarily against the headrest. Her breathing came in short gasps now and she began stroking Mulder's cock in a long, slow rhythm with a firm grip, lubricating it with the hot liquid leaking from the tip. Mulder's mouth had moved down by now and was pulling her breast halfway out of her bra by the nipple; the pain made her jump even as the pleasure raced to her groin. She began pulling at his balls insistantly as he found her clitoris and then a cold bucket of realization struck her libido.

She let go and started to straighten up. "Oh God, Mulder, we can't."

Mulder did not change gears easily. He looked up at her, flushed and a bit wild-eyed. "Wha... what?"

She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. She was still breathing heavily and trying to appear calm took a bit of effort. "Oh, I do want to, and we will, but someone's got Marita and we can't let ourselves get sidetracked... oh, god, stop doing that... ...oh... Mulder! Please?"

Scully's eyes were closed and it wasn't entirely clear what she was asking for, but Mulder stopped and fell back heavily into his seat. He looked down at his still-raging penis sticking out of his trousers and suddenly felt embarrassed. He started to adjust himself when Scully's small hand grasped him and carefully, lovingly, tucked it away.

"We will, Mulder. Soon." She smiled and quickly adjusted her own clothing before starting the car back up.

Mulder took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He trailed his fingers across her cheek. "I love you, Dana."

Scully stared straight ahead, face impassive. She put the car in gear, said simply, "I love you, too," and drove them off into the night.

---

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