Doggett saw the flashlight beams before Scully did.  They were in
the ravine where Scully had fallen.  Her ankle was twisted and he
was worried.  He knew they weren't going to make the rendezvous,
and the flashlights could only mean that the soldiers were
getting closer.  He could move through these woods blind, but it
was too dangerous to leave her.

"I have a gun," she whispered through chattering teeth.  "You
have to go."  She was leaning back against him within the circle
of his arms, absorbing what little heat he had left.     

"Not safe," he said.  "What if they find you?"

"Get going while we still have a chance," she said, struggling
away from the warmth of his embrace.  "Can't stay out here."

The lights were getting closer.  Magnum in his hand, he circled
around behind the flickering lights.  He picked out the smaller
man by the height of the light source and crept as soundlessly as
a wolf until he was right behind him.  He raised the gun and
brought it down on the man's head, catching him to quiet the
fall.  

He quickly picked up the flashlight and stalked the second man. 
He was close now, so close...

"Domanico?" a voice whispered.

Doggett raised the muzzle of the Magnum and sent his flashlight
beam into the face of Walter Skinner.  "Sir?" he said.

"Where is she, Doggett?" Skinner said, slapping the Magnum out of
his hand as he advanced.

"She fell into a ravine and twisted her ankle.  She'll be fine." 
He retrieved the Magnum.  "I hit someone," he began, looking over
his shoulder.

"Sam Domanico," Skinner said.  "This has been one hell of a
day."  He shined his flashlight into the woods.  "Scully!" he
shouted.  "It's Skinner!  Where are you?"

He heard her faint cry and took off, instructing to Doggett to
retrieve Domanico.

She was on her belly, gun aimed right at him as he came over the
edge of the ravine.  "Sir," she started, and he slid down the
embankment to her.

"Scully, we have to get you out of here."  He picked her up as
gently as if she were a precious china vessel, and started back
to the highway.  He met up with Doggett, who was assisting a
woozy Domanico.

"The highway's that way," Doggett said, pointing his light.

"I know," Skinner ground out.  "Let me call the helicopter to
pick us up."

He didn't want to surrender his fragile burden, but Doggett held
his arms out and took her.  Skinner made the call, all the while
staring at his obsession relaxing in her partner's arms.  When he
closed the connection he reached for her.  Even in the dark he
could sense Doggett's reluctance, but he yielded without comment.

Skinner breathed a sigh of relief as the helicopter came into
view on the empty stretch of road.  He didn't know what was
coming, but the storm clouds were gathering and they were more
nakedly exposed than they'd ever been before.  

 
---------------------
 

To be continued.

Title: Dangerous Game 6/6
Author: Trajan Dunn


Things were looking only marginally better: Scully and Doggett
were treated in Spokane for hypothermia, Scully's ankle was
pronounced sprained and wrapped, and Domanico had avoided a
serious concussion at the hands of his dear old buddy Doggett. 
His own guilt was weighing heavily on since he anonymously
reported the whereabouts of the MPs he'd wounded.  Now Skinner
could only rub his neck, grit his teeth, and move forward.

He'd paid for the helicopter with a Bureau credit card.  He was
in so deep at this point the cost didn't seem to matter.  He
wanted to take Scully back to Washington immediately but the
hospital didn't think it was such a good idea.  He bowed to
impartial logic and had Domanico book a few rooms for them while
he checked his messages.

There was only one, from Kersh.  Disciplinary action was being
brought against him, he was to report by 9 AM on Wednesday, yak
yak and et cetera.  He shut the damn thing off and pocketed his
phone.  He couldn't worry about that now or he'd blow a gasket.

He went out in the corridor to where Doggett was sprawled out
uncomfortably in one of those cruelly designed plastic chairs
seen nowhere else but in hospitals.  He came alert as soon as
Skinner stopped in front of him.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She'll be fine," Skinner said.  He could see the exhaustion in
Doggett's face.  "The baby's fine, too."

Doggett relaxed with an audible sigh and threw up his hands.  "I
just don't understand how the Bureau can let a pregnant woman run
around like this."

"They don't know about it." 

Doggett frowned.  "That she's on active duty?"

"That she's pregnant," Skinner said quietly.  "As far as I can
tell, the three of us are the only ones who know," he said. 
"Except for whoever got her that way."

Doggett let that sink in.  "We saw some incredible shit out at
Ellens Air Force base."

"Wait until we're out of here," Skinner cautioned.  

Within the hour Skinner saw his people installed in a decent but
crowded hotel at the airport.  Domanico took the lead.  "Come on,
John, you'll bunk with me.  If you can stand the guilt, that is."

Doggett nodded, glad for Domanico's ready understanding.  He
could have killed him out in the woods.  He watched Skinner usher
Scully into the elevator and hold the doors open.  

"You coming?" the big man called, and they piled in.  "Call down
for some dinner," he told Doggett, "and some bourbon, if they
have any.  We'll meet you soon."

Skinner and Scully disappeared into one room and Doggett and
Domanico took the adjacent one.  Domanico stripped off his jacket
and touched the square bandage on his head gingerly.  "Nice
swing," he said.  "Just don't try it on my turf.  I'll kill you
for sure."

Doggett laughed then for the first time in a long while, a tight,
hyena-like sound that revealed his nervous tension.

"What the hell happened to you, anyway?  Fugitives from the
military?"  Domanico looked at his one-time brother in blue as if
he could read his mind.  "You know what?  Forget it.  I don't
want to know."

"Smart decision," Doggett muttered.  "Even I don't believe half
of it, and I was there."

Domanico opened his phone and checked his voice mail.  "Message
from Maggie.  Guess who's coming to Idaho," he said after
pocketing the phone.  "Your friend Marita Covarrubias."

"Do tell," Doggett said.  "When?"

"Maggie says she got on a plane about mid-day."  He looked at his
watch.  "She should be wherever she's going to in about an hour."

"Terma," Dogget said with conviction.  "She's going to Terma. 
Ellens Air Force base.  Spender and Krycek."

"Huh?" Sam said, lost.

Doggett pounded on the adjoining door.  "Skinner, open up!"  He
kept pounding until an irate Assistant Director loomed in front
of him.  "Marita Covarrubias is on her way to Terma.  We have to
get back there.  Krycek is there, Scully wounded him.  We
stranded Spender in the middle of nowhere last night.  If we get
there now we can round up the lot of them..."

"And do what, exactly?" Skinner demanded.  "You broke into a
secure government facility.  You fired shots within that
facility.  You..."

"I know what I did," Doggett said.  "And I know why.  There's an
alien thing there, and they were doing experiments on it, and on
me."

Skinner studied Doggett carefully.  

"You don't believe me," Doggett said with certainty.  "Goddammit,
Skinner! Agent Scully was there."  He was shouting now.  "She saw
it!  She got me out of there!"

Skinner put his hand on the man's shoulder to calm him down. 
"Take it easy, Doggett.  I believe you."  Doggett's eyes darted
to and fro as the terrifying images flooded his consciousness
again.  "I believe you," Skinner repeated, and this time Doggett
nodded.  "This has gone way out of control.  And I don't know if
I can protect you, not now.  I'm being brought up on charges this
week.  I don't know how I'm going to answer them."

Doggett sniffed the air and picked up the scent of soap.  Skinner
looked back over his shoulder and moved to block the view of the
open door to the bathroom.  "You're in enough trouble already,
Doggett.  Don't go looking for more."

***


Skinner shut the connecting door and waited in an easy chair for
Scully to come out of the bathroom.  If he'd ever wondered how
Mulder and Scully had racked up so many public and personal
property damage charges, he now had his answer.  

She came out with a towel around her, and another around her
hair.  Skinner couldn't take his eyes off her as she dropped her
clothes on the bed and sorted through them.  He saw the man's
shirt, and noticed the absence of underwear.  

"Doggett's," Scully assured him, wondering why she felt she had
to even as she tossed the shirt over a chair.  "He gave it to me
when it looked like we were going to be moving on foot."

"And the rest?" he asked quietly.  She shot him a fearful glance
and his gaze narrowed.  "I earned the right, Scully, and you know
it."

"Krycek got a little too personal," she said flatly, as if
reporting that the milk was spoiled.  "I shot him."

"Did you kill him?" Skinner asked, both terrified and hopeful. 

"I don't know," Scully said, burying her fingers in the dirty
clothing.  "I don't know.  I don't know!" she shrieked, and
buried her head in her hands.  "I don't know what to do!  I wish
Mulder were here, he'd know, he'd make it all make sense..."

"Stop it," Skinner ordered from the chair.  "Get hysterical on
your own time, Agent Scully.  We have exactly 18 hours to plan
our next move.  Pull yourself together!"

His abrasive tone and callous commands had the intended result. 
Stifling a sniffle, she took the clothes and retired to the
bathroom.  She emerged clear-eyed and dressed exactly the way
she'd come in.

Skinner heard the room service cart in the hallway and stood up. 
"Let's eat."

*** 


Domanico and Doggett had ordered a feast.  Enormous steaks and
potatoes for the men and broiled chicken and a salad for Scully,
with a lot of beer to wash it down.  Skinner opened the rather
ordinary bourbon and took a deep swallow right from the bottle
before attacking the slab of Black Angus in front of him.

It was a good ten minutes before anyone was willing to stop
eating long enough to start talking.  By the time the details of
Scully and Doggett's misadventures in New York City and at Ellens
had been aired, Skinner had made up his mind.

"Here's the way I see it," he said.  "First, Ellens is out of our
reach unless we can convince someone a lot higher up than
ourselves to open it up, and that's highly unlikely.  Second,
Krycek may or may not be alive.  If Marita Covarrubias is on her
way to Terma I'm betting that the son of a bitch is still
breathing.  I will handle Alex Krycek myself."

"What about the MPs you shot," Doggett said, contentedly gnawing
the meat from the T-bone in his hand, "and your suspension?"

"If they're covering up evidence leading to the recovery of
Mulder, then you could argue it was justified," Scully said with
all seriousness, and for a moment Doggett saw an avenging angel
in place of his partner, a wrathful Valkyrie bent on immolation.  

"I don't think that will play well with Kersh," Skinner said.

"Then go higher," Doggett said.

"There is no one higher as far as we're concerned," Skinner
replied.  "The Director will laugh us out of the Bureau, and the
Attorney General will see us behind bars for the incident near
Hayden."

"I'm thinking you only have one way out," Domanico said as he
placed an empty long neck back on the cart.  "I'm thinking you're
going to have to capture one of these so-called 'aliens'
yourself.  Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed.  I have a
plane to catch and a stack of cases pending that would make your
eyes spin."    

Six eyes turned to him. 

"Well?" he said.  "Get out!"

Skinner and Scully left, and Doggett picked over the remains of
his dinner as he watched them go.

"Don't get any ideas," Domanico said, recognizing the look in his
old friend's eyes.  "They got a table for two and that's not
going to change, no matter who shows up for dinner."

"You got a filthy mind, Sam," Doggett said, and threw down his
fork.  

He pushed the cart into the hall and slipped into the empty bed
in the dark room.  Domanico was already snoring and it felt so
good to be warm and safe, at least for the time being.  If only
his angel were beside him now, he thought, and he willed her face
to fill his dreams as he drifted off.

*** 


Skinner stripped quickly and fell into one of the beds, grateful
for a few hours' reprieve from uncertainty and worry.  Scully
moved to turn off the light so she could undress in modest
darkness, but he was suddenly seized by a desperate need.

"Don't," he said as her fingers reached for the switch plate. 
"Let me see you."

She couldn't deny what his presence always did to her, even now. 
She drew her sweater over her head and dropped it on the floor,
then unbuttoned Doggett's shirt and laid it over the back of the
chair.  

"You look beautiful, Scully.  I missed you."

She heard the reverence in his quiet voice and her unruly
emotions once more threatened to undo her.  She pulled her thin
turtleneck over her head and let him see her budding figure.  His
eyes followed her hands as she removed her trousers to stand
naked before him.

He had never seen her more beautiful than she was at that
moment.  Her belly was now gently rounded and her breasts had
grown fuller in anticipation of the new life.  He would have
given anything to be the father of that child, to be joined to
her so inescapably.

It was wrong!  He despised his lust even as his flesh strained
toward her.  Not his!  Not anymore.

"No," he mumbled.  "No."  He pulled the blankets around him and
turned away from her ripe beauty, but even the rough sheets
abraded his skin to fiery excitement.  He should have insisted
she bunk with Domanico. 

Scully said nothing, and the light went out.  He heard her slide
between the cool sheets of the other bed and he tried to ignore
the soft noises.   

"Walter?"

He tried to close his ears against the sound.

"Walter?"

"Scully, what is it?"  He turned toward her, profoundly glad of
the darkness.

"Doggett saw us in the garage."

"What?"  He wasn't making the connection.

"At the Hoover Building.  He saw."

"I'm sorry, Scully.  I never meant to hurt you.  Do you want me
to talk to him?"

"Of course not.  I don't care about that," she said. "I care
about you."

"I'm going to jail, Scully.  For a very long time."  He stared at
the ceiling, now vaguely textured in the dim light filtering in
from the street.  "There's no way out of it.  I shot three
soldiers today."

"If you go to jail then Kersh wins.  They all win."

"You and Doggett can carry on.  You'll find him, Scully."  The
words sounded strangely hollow, like the insincere confessions of
a condemned man more interested in posterity than longevity.  

"Not without you," she said softly.  "Never without you." 
Silently she approached and extended her soft hand to his
shoulder.  

"Scully, I can't, it's not right," he said hoarsely, lying like
schoolboy when all he wanted was to bury himself in her.

"I need you," she said, dropping to one knee beside him on the
bed.  "The baby needs you."

She took his hand and placed it on the hard mound of her belly,
and his restraint evaporated.  His lust was a searing hot knife
screaming for the quenching pool. 

"Promise me you'll fight them," she said, moving his hand up to
her sensitive breasts.

"Stop," he gasped. "Stop!" he begged her.

Scully froze and let go his hand, then climbed down and returned
to her bed.  "It won't bring Mulder back," she said coldly.  "And
it won't make you a better man."  The pale light glinted off a
tear on her cheek.  "Why do you have to make it so complicated?"

He sat up and swung his feet to the floor.  "Because it is
complicated, Scully.  I can't treat you like..."

"A whore?" she said bitterly.  She laughed harshly and he heard
her condemnation.  "You don't understand the first thing about
women, Walter.  Good night."

***   


Spender relaxed quite comfortably in the car Colonel Adams had
sent for him.  Scully and that new man were pathetic.  Did they
really think he'd let them take him so easily if he had no way to
signal the base?

He spent the drive time thinking about Alex Krycek.  The boy was
too unpredictable for his needs, even now, after he'd seen what
just a short tenure in a Tunisian prison could do to a man. 
Adams had radioed earlier and reported him wounded, and he
smiled.  God bless her; Scully was nothing if not resourceful. 
He'd known what Krycek planned to do; it was written all over his
cold face and evident in every unconscious motion.  If Krycek was
still alive, he had one more mission for him, one that he'd was
sure to be happy to execute.  Once that was complete, the FBI
could have him.  There was always Marita.  Now there was a clever
girl. 


*** 


Dulles was busy and nobody paid much attention to the three
rumpled travelers.  Domanico had left them in Chicago, and was
probably already back in New York.

Skinner hailed a taxi and Scully got inside.  Doggett waited
patiently for Skinner to follow and was surprised when he
declined.

"I have a defense to prepare," he said.  

"It sounded rock solid to me, Sir," Doggett said, holding out his
hand.  "And thanks for bringing the cavalry."  He got into the
taxi and it sped away.

Take care of her, Skinner wanted to say, but he held his tongue. 
He took the next car in line and turned his thoughts instead to
the hearing he'd be sweating through in less than 72 hours.

Scully and Doggett remained silent during the ride to her
apartment.  It was the first time they'd been alone since their
desperate flight from Ellens, and there was too much to say.  Too
much to sort out.

With Skinner's agreement, they'd already decided to file detailed
and accurate reports of what had happened.  Spender would be
implicated. Krycek would be cited, along with Marita Covarrubias
and the Ellens base commander.  Their most compelling defense was
tied to the outstanding warrant for Alex Krycek, and that was the
hand they intended to play.

"What do you think they'll do to him?" Doggett asked finally.

Scully shook her head.  "I don't know.  But he's gotten out of
worse spots before.  And he knows I'll back him up."

"I will, too," Doggett said, and Scully looked at him.  "He's a
good man," he said in response to her querying look.  "We need
him on our side," he said as he watched the traffic flow by. 
"Hell, we gonna need everyone we can get."

The car pulled up in front of Scully's apartment house and she
looked at Doggett hesitantly for a brief moment before leaving
the car.  

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Doggett called, and she raised her hand
in agreement, not turning around as she marched up the stairs to
the front door.

***


Relief flooded Doggett as he closed the door to his and Miriam's
small apartment.  He leaned a moment against the door and
surveyed the room, automatically looking for anything out of
place.  It was too soon to forget what he'd seen and too late to
change his mind about it.

He dropped his stale clothes on the floor on the way to the
shower and let the hot water wash away the ugliness.  He liked
his misery the old-fashioned way: a broken affair, an escaped
fugitive, a grisly murder.  Even a hit-and-run, god forgive him,
was preferable to what he'd just been through.  No amount of soap
in the world was going to wash away the stains on his mind from
that...thing.  Or the revelations about his new partner.   

He dressed in his favorite old jeans and a clean shirt and
checked the refrigerator. Empty, as usual.  And he hadn't heard
any noise from Olga on the way in, which meant that she and Boris
were probably at a movie.  The old woman loved the foreign film
festivals at the Biograph.  No home cooked meal tonight.

It wasn't food he needed, though.  He picked up his leather
jacket and moved slowly down the stairs to the street.  He hailed
a taxi and sent the driver to that little bistro in Arlington
with the flock of pretty girls he'd come to enjoy so thoroughly.

It was still relatively early, but he didn't mind.  He was
planning on getting good and drunk and he called for a beer
before he sat down.

"Thanks, Jimmy," he said, sipping the head off the lager.

"You look different," Jimmy said, scrutinizing him.  "Haircut?"

Doggett laughed.  "Same old me," he said.  But even Jimmy had
seen it: he was different. What he'd seen had changed him
forever, and there would be no going back.  

He sat with back to the wall and one eye on the door, and he was
rewarded when the bar filled with college girls and the noise
grew loud enough and the smoke dense enough to take his mind off
the past few days.

A willowy blonde made her way to the bar with a goateed young
man.  Doggett appraised her openly and studied the boy.  He put
down his beer with a sigh and picked up a quarter that was lying
with his change on the bar.  Heads, he'd take her away from him. 
Tails, he'd take his chances.  He sent the coin arcing up and
Jimmy grabbed it out of the air.  

"Call it, John," he said with a smile.

"Heads."

Jimmy uncovered the coin.  "Looks like a winner to me," he said,
and pushed another beer across the bar.

Doggett stood and slid in between the girl and the animated young
man.  It was always so easy, he thought.  Why couldn't she see
the weariness in his eyes?  He didn't remember how it felt to be
young.  The girl was duly flattered by his attentions and the boy
read the writing on the wall.  With a shrug and a faint sneer he
left to join a knot of friends, and Doggett turned to his
quarry.  He tuned out the noise that came from her mouth and saw
what he wanted to see, a potentially willing bed partner with a
firm young body.

A willing partner.  At least he could hope to have that in bed,
if not at the office.  He wasn't sure at all where he stood with
his partner, and at this point he wasn't at all sure he cared. 
It was time to take care of himself.  He moved closer to the
girl, turned on the charm, and soon he felt her first tentative
caresses cloaked by the press of bodies.  It felt good, and he
began to relax by degrees.

**


Scully didn't have the patience to make a dinner from the odds
and ends she could find.  The anxiety that had been eating at her
all day was quickly turning into generalized antagonism.  She
needed an anchor, damn it, and Walter Skinner would not allow
himself to be one.  She blamed Mulder for leaving and she hated
herself for not being stronger.

She took off her soiled clothes and scrubbed herself clean, then
dressed.  She looked at the worn clothes and realized she still
had Doggett's shirt.  She picked it up and brought it to her
face.  Despite the foreign shape and size, it smelled like her
alone. She tossed it in the laundry pile and forgot about it.

Take-out was too depressing to contemplate, so she pulled on a
coat, picked up an unread newspaper from the pile of unopened
mail, and grabbed a cab to the little bistro in Arlington that
she liked so much.  The constant influx of college kids kept the
atmosphere upbeat, the food was good, and nobody bothered her. 
She pushed the door open and walked by the bar to the maitre d'. 
Five minutes, he told her, and she moved to the wall and buried
her face in a day old Washington Post.

A throng of drinkers moved into the dining room and she looked up
to see her partner exactly as she'd last left him here, with a
blonde hanging on his neck and a beer in his hand.  Gone was the
easygoing flirting she'd turned up her nose at once before; now
there was a desperation to his seduction that she hadn't noticed
before.

"Scully, party of one."  

She forgot all about Doggett and his bimbos as she settled into
her table by the window and spread out her newspaper.

Doggett heard her name called through a haze of alcohol and
restless lust.  Was she here again?  His eyes flicked toward the
flash of red hair moving through the dining room and he had his
answer.  Table for one.  He knew just how that felt.

He suddenly lost interest in the blonde crawling all over him. 
He waved a twenty at the barman.  "Jimmy," he called, "get Terry
here whatever she wants."

Jimmy nodded and the blonde frowned.  "What's the matter,
Johnny?" she cooed, and all he saw was an embarrassing caricature
of a woman.  He didn't know why he was wasting his time.

"Business," he said, removing her arms from his neck.  "I'm
sorry, honey.  I'll make it up to you another night."

In fact, the blonde didn't care if he left any more than he did. 
He made his way through the dining room without bothering to see
if she stayed or went home.  

"Agent Scully," he said, and she looked up from her newspaper.

"Agent Doggett," she replied in kind, quickly removing her
reading glasses.  

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?" she replied, folding her hands in front of her.

"Take your glasses off as soon as anyone notices you're wearing
them."

"I do not," she said indignantly, suddenly wondering exactly how
much else he noticed.

"May I sit down?" he asked hopefully.

She shrugged and gestured to the chair opposite her.  He took a
swallow of beer and stared at her a bit too long, and she dropped
her eyes to the paper.  "Have you eaten?" she said shyly.

"Is that an invitation?" the liquor replied a little too quickly,
and she tensed immediately.  "No, wait.  I'm sorry, I don't know
why I said that."

She already had her paper in hand.  "No, my mistake."  

He reached over and pulled the newsprint down.  "Don't turn me
off, Scully.  I'm your partner, damn it."

"You don't know anything about a real partnership," she hissed. 
"I'm through apologizing to you, Doggett, for anything.  If you
can't keep up, get out."

If she were a man he would have hit her.  Instead he leaned
forward, voice low.  "You think I don't know the hell you're
going through?  I had a wife, Agent Scully.  I almost had a son. 
They're dead.  You haven't cornered the market on loss, or on
pain.  And needing someone doesn't make you weak."  

He waited for a reply that never came.  He pushed back the chair
and stood. "Don't worry, I'll watch your back.  That was never an
option."

Scully watched him go.  He passed the bar on the way to the door
and kept walking, out into the night air.  And just like that the
moment was gone.  The waiter came to take her order but she shook
her head and folded her newspaper.  She wasn't hungry anymore. 
She left the warm sanctuary of the bistro and walked, block after
block, letting the noisy students on the boulevard distract her
from weightier thoughts.  She stopped to look at the shop
windows, some newly festooned for the approaching holidays, until
it was too cold to stay.

"Come on, I'll walk you home."

The somber voice came out of the darkness and tore her from her
self-castigation.  She pulled her coat more closely about her and
started down the street.

"I'm confused, Doggett," she said.  

"Aren't we all.  There are things I can learn from you, Scully. 
I admit that."  He reached out and put a hand on her arm,
stopping her.  "But I can teach you a few things as well."

"Get a little, give a little?" she said, a tiny smile threatening
to light up her face.

He nodded.  "Exactly.  Promise me you'll give it a chance."

She let him put her hand around his arm, and they continued down
the street.  He didn't seem to care who saw them, or what they
might think, and it was oddly refreshing.  And more comfortable
than she ever thought possible.

"I'm going to tell you a story, Agent Doggett.  About kings and
robber barons, and judges and knaves."  Her voice grew stronger
as she warmed to her tale.  "But mostly about a prince and his
lady in waiting, and of great battles and childhood's end..."

He slowed his pace to match hers and her fingers curled around
his arm in the cold night air as she opened the doors of her
memory palace.  Just give it a chance to work, Scully, he
thought; that's all I'm asking for.  Just a chance.


--------------------  

END.