Title: Silent Journey -- sequel to Silent Faith
Author: Philiater
Category: DSR
Rating: For this section-R for bad language and a little 
smut.
Beta thanks as always to Keleka
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were. They belong to CC 
and company.
Summary: Can love survive what isn't said?
Feedback: www.philiater1.com

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Scully woke slowly to dim light filtering through the 
dingy windows of the rustic cabin. She was feeling 
warm and strangely peaceful despite her uncomfortable 
position on the floor.  Spending all night next to John 
Doggett was wonderful, but the circumstances in which 
it occurred were abysmal. 

It took literally falling off a mountain, breaking a wrist, 
and the threat of death by exposure to get her there. 
He'd promised he wouldn't leave her, and had made 
good on that promise. Sometime in the night she'd 
woken, and he was there to comfort her. She'd realized 
then that she was in love with him, and he'd kissed her 
with all the enthusiasm of a man whose passions had 
been restrained for far too long.

That kiss would have led to more if it hadn't been for 
her arm, and the appalling condition of the cabin. It was 
yet another reason to get out of there and home.

Doggett had insisted on immobilizing her wrist, and 
managed to find a few small sturdy wood splints.  He 
bound the wood to her wrist with strips of cloth from 
his thermal undershirt. He'd done such a fine job; she 
could move it around without pain slicing through her.  
But she'd had to keep herself from sniffing at her wrist 
too much; the fabric had been next to his body, and the 
scent was heaven.

"Mornin'," a husky voice said in her ear.

She startled, not knowing he was awake; he lay 
spooned up behind her, and his mouth was inches from 
her ear.

"Good morning."

"Are you cold?"

"No," she said, almost contentedly. 

"Well, you should be. Look."

Looking down she could see her sweater had ridden up 
a little at her waist, and he seemed fascinated with the 
minute patch of skin that was revealed. She felt tiny 
hairs stand up when he began to lightly stroke it with 
his thumb.

"So soft," he murmured in her ear. "You're so soft."  

It was a small area he was touching, only a square inch 
or so, but it felt as if he were caressing her 
*everywhere*. She began to breathe in small hitches 
when an index finger joined the thumb.

"Ah Dana, I wanna feel you," he rasped. "So bad, so 
bad."

His voice was a crime, she thought; too sensual, too 
husky, too deep to be used on a female legally. The way 
he was using it now, she'd agree to anything he'd ask 
her to do.

A calloused hand worked its way across her belly, 
sending sparks of sensation between her legs.

"I...uh..." She was rendered incoherent simply from 
his voice and the brush of a hand.

He continued to murmur in her ear. "You're so pretty, 
you feel so good, I wanna..."

All the while, his hands stroked her willing flesh and 
moved in deliberate exploration. Those marvelous 
hands worked their way up her stomach, and brushed 
lightly across her breasts. Somehow her bra came 
undone without her even realizing it. 

 She was wrong: his hands were the lethal weapons.

Before she could voice an incoherent protest, he 
brushed her nipples lightly; just a graze with roughened 
fingers, but it was enough to cause her back to arch into 
his touch.

"Do you like that?" he whispered.

She couldn't say anything while his hands were on her.

"Do you like that?" he insisted.

"Ye..yesssss." 

She drew it out as he renewed his efforts, keeping her 
mindless; keeping her from noticing the dusty cabin, 
filthy rug, and chilly air. All she knew was the warmth 
of his mouth on her neck, and the feel of his hands 
when he touched her. 

Somehow she managed to turn her head and kiss him. 
As his tongue invaded the warmth of her mouth, a hand 
invaded below her waist. His hand mimicked his 
tongue; flicking lightly at her lips and pushing past 
them. She hissed at sensation, and brought both her 
arms up to touch his face.

And she nearly gave him a concussion from the splint 
on her wrist.

At first she didn't understand his yelp of pain; she was 
so lost in the bliss he'd created. But when she opened 
her eyes at the loss of his hands, she saw he was using 
them to hold the side of his face.

"John!"

She sat up quickly, realizing what had happened and 
reached for him.

He brushed her away. "It's nothin'." His lopsided grin 
couldn't hide the pain in his expression. A good sized 
welt ran from his temple to his cheekbone. 

She was wrong again. *Her* hands were lethal 
weapons.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shit! That hurt, he thought.

Just as he was making headway on seducing her, Scully 
had to forget about the scaffolding on her arm.

An uncontrolled giggle worked its way out of her 
mouth when she saw his expression, and destroyed 
whatever 'mood' they'd managed to create.

 He tried to laugh too, but recognized the passing of his 
opportunity. He rubbed the side of his head to loosen 
the pain.

When he looked back at her again, the smile had 
vanished.  Tears had welled up in her eyes, threatening 
to spill over.

"You're not gonna cry again are you?" He tried to keep 
the frustration out of his voice. All he seemed capable 
of doing since being stranded here with her, was 
making her cry.

She wouldn't look at him, instead stared at the cabin in 
the cold light. "Not the first time," she said softly, "not 
here in this place."

He looked around and sighed, knowing she was right, 
knowing these were less than ideal conditions. But the 
rest of his body was still on full alert, still wanted her 
with an urgent fury. He'd been so close.

"I know. I'm sorry."  

He helped her re-hook her bra, and smoothed her cotton 
sweater back down. His parka had slid off, and he 
picked it up. As he wrapped it around her, he pulled her 
close until she was sitting in his lap. He felt her good 
hand gently trace the swelling on his face.

"We never seem to catch a break, do we?"  Her voice 
sounded sad, and had a defeated quality he didn't like.

"We will when we get out of here."

"Will we?"

"Yes." 

She pulled away from him. "Then let's get going."

He stood and helped her to her feet. She was suddenly 
all business, giving him his coat and wrapping hers 
around herself. She stopped and looked at him.

"I...uh have to use the facilities."

A small grin appeared on his face. "I don't think there 
are any facilities to use."

They both looked at the door leading outside. The very 
thought of having to do *that* outside caused his balls 
to contract in response. She must have had the same 
thought; her face was pinched in worried distaste.

By unspoken agreement, they went out together and in 
opposite directions to take care of 'business.'  She went 
to the right, heading for a large boulder. He went 
around back. 

He frowned at the depth of the snow. In some places he 
sunk down to mid thigh, which for Scully would be at 
the waist. Trudging out of here seemed less promising 
with each step.

He found a sizable tree and took care of draining his 
bladder as quickly as possible. After zipping up, he 
paused to survey the area. Trees circled the back of the 
cabin in near uniformity; four on the right, and three on 
the left. Near the middle where a tree should be was a 
gap. A small mound of snow sat in that space, but it 
was too square in shape to be the stump of a tree.

Curious, Doggett moved closer to investigate. He 
brushed the snow away to expose a grayed piece of 
wood. Further digging revealed the wood to be a small 
door with rusted hinges and a padlock that looked new.

Remembering the key he'd found the previous night, 
Doggett fished it out of his parka. To his surprise the 
key fit and the lock clicked open without protest. The 
door, however, protested at being opened. It squeaked 
loudly and the boards groaned under the pressure.
With a final effort, Doggett heaved the door backward.

Underneath yawned black, empty space. He took a 
stone and threw it in. The sound of it hitting metal 
echoed back up. It was an artificial room of some kind, 
he thought. His flashlight, of course, was back in the 
car. But he couldn't see a damn thing without one.

He leaned in as far as he could, to see if he could make 
out anything inside the space. Suddenly his hand 
slipped, and he pitched forward into the hole.

A loud grunt was forced out of him when he hit the 
floor. He found himself staring back up at the opening 
and the cloudy sky above. He'd fallen about six feet 
down. Slowly he rolled over feeling achy, but thought 
the only thing wounded was his pride.

As his eyes adjusted to the interior, objects came into 
focus. A tall shelf to his left contained canned goods, 
dishes, blankets, and clothing. A reverse osmosis 
distillery was against one wall to make fresh water. 
Another shelf contained enough bandages, sutures, and 
medical instruments to stock a small clinic.

It was the locker spoken about in the mysterious note 
he'd burned. But it was more than a locker; it was a 
bomb shelter, he thought, but why in the middle...then 
his blood ran cold. The case he and Scully had come on 
was about a man called the Survivalist. This had to be 
his hideout. 

Looking around with fresh eyes, he opened a long 
wooden box and made a gruesome discovery. It was 
filled with a yellow nylon clothesline and a variety of 
guns and knives of every description. And all of it was 
covered in blood.

He was real, not a ghost as the villagers asserted. He 
was real, and his victims were real too; the bunker was 
evidence of that.

He thought over the details of girls who'd gone missing. 
All were strong, tough, almost male in their persona. 
Each had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. 
A local man claimed he'd seen the ghost of a survivalist 
who died in a fire some ten years earlier near the house 
of a missing girl. It would have been a routine missing 
persons case except for the ghost bit.

After that the ghost was reported by a variety of people, 
but the descriptions were nearly identical. He was 
dressed in fatigues, face painted camouflage, and black 
military boots. He either carried knives, or guns 
depending on who was asked. And he was spotted just 
before, or after a girl went missing.

The only time he wasn't reported was this latest missing 
girl, Mary Sand. She also didn't fit the description of 
the other girls. She'd been shy, quiet, almost a recluse 
living with her elderly grandparents in a remote 
mountain area.

It was Mary's grandparents who contacted the X-Files.  
Somehow they'd heard about the division from a 
'friend.' So he and Scully had come out to investigate. 

Scully. He couldn't tell her about this, and he had to get 
her out of there as fast as possible.

Suddenly he stopped himself. Not tell Scully? Where 
had that come from? She was his partner, he should 
keep her informed of every development. But she was 
more than a partner now. She...

Love. She'd said she loved him

He sat down heavily with the knowledge of it. He was 
already changing his thinking concerning her, and was 
likely to change his behavior too. He wanted to protect 
her with a fierce determination that went far beyond 
how an FBI partner should feel. Love had changed his 
entire view of her. 

That was stupid, he thought, and if he wasn't careful, 
he'd hurt them both.

"John?" Her voice called nearby, sounding frightened. 

"Here.  I'm here," he called. 

Her face appeared above him, framed by the trapdoor. 
"What is this?"

"I think we found the Survivalist's hideout." To 
illustrate he shined a found flashlight around the area so 
she could see. He saw her absorb the importance of his 
statement. And she snapped her head up to look around 
outside, reflexively searching for his ghostly figure.

"How'd you get down there?"

He looked away sheepishly. "I sorta dropped in." There 
was no need to elaborate on *how*.

"We need to get you out, but I don't know how."

For an answer he tossed her the yellow nylon clothes 
line. It might be evidence, but if he didn't get out of 
there no one was going to be able to verify it and the 
other things as such.

"Tie it around a tree."

He heard her move off, and the yellow line snaked 
upward to follow. While she was busy with that, he 
started tossing the canned goods, blankets, and other 
essentials they'd need to hike out. With any luck they'd 
make it back before the Survivalist knew they'd been 
there.  If not...he let the thought trail away. The 
alternative was unthinkable. 

He knew by the way the Survivalist operated that he 
was an expert hunter and tracker. One of the girls who 
disappeared was known to be one herself. Her friends 
had stated that he simply had to be a ghost to catch 
*her*. 

He and Scully were no hunters, and far from expert on 
how to elude one. Added to that was her frail condition. 
His Marine training had hardly prepared him for this 
situation. At least he had his gun, he thought, but knew 
that Scully had stowed hers inside the car. They were 
no match for this man.

He wondered what he could do about the knives and 
other evidence inside the locker. The man was sure to 
destroy any proof as soon as he realized they'd been 
there. In the end he wrapped three of the smaller knives 
and put them in his pocket.

Scully's voice came from above him. "Okay, it's tied, 
but I don't know how well it'll hold."

"I guess I'll just have to trust you," he said as he walked 
under the hole.

She looked sober for a moment. "Yes, I guess you 
will."

Without hesitation he grabbed the rope and hoisted 
himself up. Hand over hand he climbed, sweating with 
the effort. Finally his head and torso were above the 
opening. He felt Scully grab his coat and tug. A final 
burst of energy propelled him forward and on top of 
her.

She emitted a startled oomph.

"Scully, Dana, I'm sorry." He started to move off of her, 
but her arms came around him.

"You'll do anything to get me in the missionary position 
won't you?" There was laughter in her voice mixed with 
a mischievous grin. 

He laughed and then kissed her soundly, making it 
more intense and last longer than he'd intended. She 
reciprocated in kind, driving him to the edge. God, he 
loved her, wanted every part of her.

"What was that for?" she asked when he broke from 
her.

"Because I love ya, darlin'."

"So you've said."

"I just wanted to say it again." He didn't tell her it was 
because he had a bad feeling about how this was going 
to turn out, and he was afraid he'd never get the chance 
again.

"What are you thinking about?" He heard worry creep 
into her voice.

"That we should go."

"Yes."

And just like that she was Agent Scully again. He 
marveled how she could switch gears so quickly; go 
from absurdity to dead serious in a heart beat. Must 
have had experience with Mulder, he thought.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


She was worried when she couldn't find him. Coming 
around the boulder, she half expected him to be 
waiting. Men had better equipment for the great 
outdoors, she mused.

But he wasn't there or inside the cabin either. She'd 
seen him go around the back, maybe he was still there.

Slogging through the snow, she found his tracks and 
tried to keep inside his large footsteps. The snow was 
deeper here than she'd found by the boulder. His tracks 
ended abruptly near a tree, and still he was nowhere in 
sight.

Fear licked at the corners of her mind. He wouldn't 
ditch her would he?

"John?"

"I'm here."

Relief flooded her at the sound of his voice. She ran 
toward it, and nearly toppled into the bunker after him.

"What is this?" she asked with surprise.

His next words chilled her. "I think we found the 
Survivalist's hideout." 

He shined a flashlight around the little room, and she 
saw every supply anyone would ever need to stay alive 
for months all alone. If he was right...she instantly 
turned her head to look for the man who was 
responsible for so many disappearances. And possibly 
many deaths.

Finding an empty landscape, she turned her attention 
back to Doggett.  He was at least six feet below her.

"How'd you get down there?"

He looked away in embarrassment, and she had to 
suppress a smile. 

"I sorta dropped in." 

"We need to get you out, but I don't know how."

 A yellow nylon rope came sailing out of the opening in 
answer.

"Tie it around a tree."

With her good hand she pulled the rope over to the 
nearest tree. Tying it became a chore because of her bad 
wrist. Every time she tried to use her that hand to tie a 
knot, pain shot through to her elbow. It took much 
longer than it should have, and she was feeling doubtful 
of its holding power. She stood looking at it, biting her 
lip in frustration. Finally she went back to him.

"Okay, it's tied, but I don't know how well it'll hold."

"I guess I'll just have to trust you," he said. She knew he 
meant it as a joke, but it was truer than he knew.

"Yes, I guess you will."

To his credit, he grabbed the line without hesitation, 
showing her how much he did trust her. She watched as 
he pulled himself up, admiring his skill and knowing he 
had to be in good shape to complete such a task. For a 
brief moment, she wondered what his muscles would 
look and feel like beneath her hands.

Finally his head and torso were above the opening. 
Scully grabbed his coat with her good hand and tugged 
as hard as she could. Suddenly he was moving up and 
toward her, too fast for her to move back out of the 
way.

A startled breath was knocked out of her when he 
landed on top of her.

"Scully, Dana, I'm sorry." He sounded so contrite, she 
had to stop him. She put her arms around his solid back, 
and kept him in place.

"You'll do anything to get me in the missionary position 
won't you?" 

He laughed and then kissed her with bright intensity. 
Something shook lose inside her, and she gave it back 
to him in full measure. It was a kiss of raw sexuality 
that turned her heart to jello.

"What was that for?" she asked him.

"Because I love ya, darlin'." His husky voice made it 
sound like the sweetest of endearments.

"So you've said." The teasing note was gone from her 
voice.  There was something he wasn't telling her.

"I just wanted to say it again." 

"What are you thinking about?" She was worried now.

"That we should go."

He was right. Here they were kissing outside like 
teenagers in their own backyard instead of a killer's.

"Yes." She was up and ready without hesitation.

They rolled the canned goods and other essentials into a 
blanket, and Doggett rigged a knapsack of sorts to 
carry. He produced a Velcro splint to put on her wrist.

"He had *that* in there?"

"Yeah, I know. This guy's been plannin' for months." 

Doggett also produced two pills from a bottle in his 
pocket. When she looked dubious about taking them, he 
told her, "They're just aspirin Dana. Your wrist has 
gotta be killin' ya."

She swallowed them dry, feeling the grainy burn as 
they descended her esophagus. 

It was a great relief to get the makeshift splint off her 
arm. Doggett was as gentle with her as he could be, and 
she found herself melting again. You're being stupid, 
her rational mind told her, but she couldn't seem to help 
herself. Each time he touched her, it felt astonishing. 
She wondered if he felt the same way in her presence.

She got her answer when he looked up. Undisguised 
love shone in his eyes, but it disappeared quickly.

"We have to get movin'."

"Should we try to conceal that we were here?"

"Nah. He'd know we were here even if we spent all day 
coverin' it up."

Scully had read the case file, and knew he spoke the 
truth.

He lead the way out, and to her surprise didn't head 
back in the direction they'd come in. She was about to 
question him on it, but decided against it. He'd shown 
her trust, and now it was her turn. 

She trusted him with her life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

They trudged along for a while, neither saying a word 
to the other. Doggett had opened two cans of cold pork 
and beans, and canned juice drink. They ate as they 
walked, and he tried to help her with the cans, but she 
steadfastly refused his assistance. God, she is stubborn, 
he thought. When they were finished, he buried the 
cans under a deep snow drift.

He noticed later that Scully was lost in thought, and had 
been since they left. He thought she must have been 
brooding about something.

"Is there somethin' wrong?"

She looked up at him in surprise. "I was thinking about 
the baby."

The baby. Shit he was dense. He'd forgotten about 
William.

"Oh," he said, not knowing what else he could add. 
Then something occurred to him. He'd been 
manhandling her a little this morning. If she was 
breastfeeding she'd be in pain.

"Dana, are you...I mean do you have to...express..." 
he stammered, suddenly too embarrassed to discuss the 
subject.

"Are you asking if my breasts are tender John?"

"Yeah."

"No. I'm not breastfeeding. With all the stress these past 
months, my milk dried up." There was sadness in her 
voice again. She was missing the baby more than she'd 
let on. Or maybe someone else.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Mulder's just...mixed up right 
now."

Doggett felt a little stab of jealousy at the mention of 
the other man's name. She'd told him in the cabin that 
she loved him, but was she still in love with Mulder? 
Suddenly his position with her was in doubt.

Quiet settled between them, and Doggett found himself 
brooding this time. What would she do once they 
reached safety? Would she tell him it had been a 
mistake to let him touch her? Would she 'keep' him and 
still wait for Mulder to return? Would she discard him 
like the tin cans they'd had for lunch?

All the alternatives were far from appealing, and he 
found himself becoming angrier with every step. His 
rational mind told he had no right to be mad, to be 
jealous. But he was.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, interrupting his 
train of thought.

"Nothin'." It came out more curtly than he intended. 
Could she read his mind?

She stopped walking. "Your face doesn't say it's 
'nothing.'"

Doggett stopped too, but wouldn't turn around. He was 
afraid of what he'd let show; that she'd lose respect for 
him. His shoulders sagged a little as he gathered the 
courage to speak. 

"I said it's nothin'." He continued forward unwilling to 
wait for her to catch up. He liked the short distance 
between them.

Just then he felt a cold, hard object strike the back of 
his head. What the...He turned, furious that Scully had 
thrown a snowball at him. He felt it melt and slide 
down his neck to chill his skin.

"What the hell do ya think you're  doin'?" he bellowed.

"Getting your attention."

In four short strides he was facing her. "Well, you got it 
now." He could feel himself shake with fury, but was 
helpless to stop it. He'd grabbed her upper arms in a 
firm grip, and she winced at the pressure.  But she 
didn't back down either.

"You said we were partners. That we'd discuss things."

"Yeah, but that was before..."

"Before what? Before you tried to fuck me?"

The crudeness of her statement startled him. He let go 
of her like she was a poisonous snake.

"Is that what you think I was tryin' to do? Fuck you?" 

"Isn't it?" Her voice was quiet now.

He tried to process where this was coming from, what 
she was trying to tell him.

"Not for *me* it wasn't."

"But it was for me?" She was furious now, and quickly 
closed the gap between them. She stood toe to toe with 
him, breathing heavily in his face.

He thought she was going to say something. Her mouth 
opened and closed several times, but nothing came out. 
He'd pushed her too far, and now regretted it. He 
moved a fraction closer and reached to touch her face.

"Dana, I..."

Suddenly his parka tore over his left shoulder and a 
burning pain seared along the top. He looked over to 
see down puffing out of the hole in his coat. Under that 
he could see blood beginning to ooze out of a wound.

"John!" Scully moved toward him and then they both 
heard the far off repeat of a gun being discharged.

Doggett acted on instinct, knowing someone had just 
shot at them from a long distance. He dove to the 
ground taking Scully with him and he covered her body 
with his.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Scully was horrified to see blood on Doggett's shoulder. 
One minute he was having a heated argument with her, 
and next he was slumped forward in pain clutching his 
shoulder. She moved toward him on instinct and heard 
the echo of a gunshot.

The next instant she was face down in the snow with 
Doggett's heavy body on top of hers; blazing heat above 
and frigid ice below. They had just walked out of the 
forest into a small clearing making them easy targets.

She heard another bullet strike a rock to the right of her, 
splintering the hard surface and spraying them with 
gravel. Doggett was trying to keep his weight off of her, 
but she could feel the effort cause his arms to tremble.

"John..." She tried to get him to move. His gesture was 
gallant but misplaced given his condition. Fear that his 
wound was serious made her frightened and panicky.

After a third shot missed them and the echo had long 
died away, Doggett finally stirred. He rolled over onto 
his left side, clutching his shoulder and groaned.  Scully 
rolled over too and moved to where he was lying.

"John, can you hear me?" She couldn't keep the worry 
out of her voice.

He nodded, but his eyes were squeezed shut. Scully 
unzipped the parka and pulled it away from his body.

Dark blood stained his sweater and smudged the snow 
beside him. With trembling finders, Scully probed 
under the sweater. She felt the slick stickiness of blood 
coating his chest. Gingerly she probed higher until a 
ridge of ragged skin slid under her fingers. Doggett 
flinched when she made contact, but didn't cry out.

As she explored the extent of the wound, it became 
clear it wasn't mortal. The bullet had passed along the 
top of his shoulder, slicing through skin and muscle. 
But he was losing blood at an alarming rate and could 
die if she didn't staunch the flow. She pulled the 
knapsack off of him completely and unrolled it on the 
ground.  The bandages and antiseptic he'd hauled out 
here for her, she now applied to him.

Taking several four by four gauze pads and wadding 
them up, she pressed hard on the wound. This time 
Doggett did cry out in pain, but she didn't ease up. 
Eventually he relaxed under the pressure of her hands. 
She took several strip of elastic tape and taped the 
gauze down with pressure.

"We need to get outta here," he panted.  "That guy's 
close."

She nodded. "Can you walk?"

"It's my shoulder, not my feet." He squinted and gave 
her a sideways glance.

She could hear a little of his old self there and felt 
relief. Before she could think anymore, he was up and 
tugging at her. "Let's go."

He pulled her along with his good arm and her good 
hand. They stumbled awkwardly forward until they met 
a rock face. Doggett stepped back and looked up and 
down the massive stone before them. It appeared to 
grow larger to their right, but diminished to their left.

Staggering over the uneven ground, they made their 
way down the rock until Doggett could see over it. 
Scully heard a slight gasp come out of him.

"What? What is it?"

He turned to her, his face bright with excitement. "I 
think it's the road."

"Can you see the car?" Scully strained but couldn't see 
over the rock.

"Nah, but it's a way outta here."

For a moment they stood looking at the rock before 
them, wondering how they were going to traverse it. 
Further to their left the rock rose in height again. If they 
were going to climb to the road, it had to be here. 
Scully caught Doggett looking at her, his face serious.

"You go first," he said.

Scully looked at the smooth divots that pitted the rock. 
There seemed to be no place to gain purchase. Her wrist 
throbbed dully in anticipation of a climb.

"How?"

Without preamble, he turned her around and shoved her 
against the rock. Still stunned at this sudden action she 
felt a hand and shoulder against her backside.

"John what..."

She was suddenly boosted up, scraping along the rock 
until her head, chest and arms were above the rock. Her 
arms and legs scrambled, trying to lever herself up to 
the road. Just when she thought she'd never get a grip 
on anything, Doggett bent down and then surged back 
up, catapulting her forward and onto the graveled 
shoulder of the road. 

Scully rolled over until she was looking up at the sky. 
White clouds seemed to drift just above her with 
snatches of blue beyond them. After a few heavy 
breaths, she rolled back to look for Doggett behind her, 
but he wasn't there.

She crawled back and looked down the rock face. 
Doggett was bent forward, breathing heavily. Blood 
had seeped through his parka, staining the bright blue 
fabric. He'd used most of his strength to get her up 
there, and a cold fear washed over her. How was he 
going to get up here himself?

"John? Are you all right?"

He turned a gray face toward her. Beads of sweat dotted 
his forehead and rolled down his face. The exertion 
seemed to have left him empty.

"You...you go on. Get to the car. Get...help." Scully 
could barely understand him; the words coming out 
breathy and weak. She watched in horror as he slumped 
down and sat in a heap below her.

He was giving up. He was going to just sit down and 
die. Scully felt icy fear settle on her chest. She had to 
motivate him, had to make him find the energy to climb 
the rock despite his shoulder and bad condition. It was 
only six feet. She would not let six feet defeat him.

There seemed to be only one way to do it.  "No."

A moment passed before he reacted. "What?"

"I said no."

He turned an angry face up to look at her and Scully 
almost recoiled. "What the hell did you say?"

"I said no. I'm not leaving you." She used a tone she 
knew he hated.

"Don't be stupid. Find the car and get the hell out of 
here."

"No."

He looked away from her, swearing a blue streak and 
standing up. That's it, she thought. Now we're getting 
somewhere.

"Agent Scully, per bureau protocol..." He went off into 
a diatribe about policy and her duty in following it. He 
seemed to get angrier with each second. Well, she did 
know how to anger him, that was sure.

She waited patiently until he stopped, and then she 
reiterated: "No."

He started to rage again, but stopped. He turned his face 
up at her. "I know what you're tryin' to do and it isn't 
gonna work."

"What's that?"

"You're trying to make me mad enough to climb up 
there and it's not gonna work."

"You seem angry enough to me."

He turned away for a moment in frustration. Finally he 
turned back, and looked at her with pain-filled eyes. 
"Dana, please go. Please, baby."

No fair, she thought, no fair to use that sweet tone and 
an endearment to boot. She sat up and spied a squatty 
rock near her. An idea began to form. Maybe...

She leaned back over. "Throw me the rope."

"You're wastin' time. He's gonna be here any second."

"Throw me the rope. If you don't, I'm coming down 
there."

"What?" he yelled.   "Of all the..."

To his credit, he fished it out and threw it to her. She 
wrapped it around the smooth rock once and then 
herself. She backtracked to the edge.

"Okay, pull yourself up."

"What?"

"I'm using a rock for leverage up here. Grab onto the 
rope while I pull."

"You're never gonna be able to hold my weight."

"I'm going to try."

He sighed heavily, resigned to try it despite his 
apprehension. The first tug jolted her back to the rock. 
He must be hanging off it now, she thought. Grim 
determination set her teeth on edge as she pulled with 
all her might. The rope danced and shook with the 
effort but relented. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, he 
came up the rock face.

When she could finally see the top of his head, she 
lunged as hard as she could toward him, the rope 
squeezing the breath out of her. She fell and was almost 
dragged backward, but she managed to hold on. One 
more lunge brought her to the edge.

By now his head was above the rock as well as his 
shoulders. They were both sweating profusely in the 
effort to get him up. Doggett's hands appeared and 
searched frantically for a place to hold onto.  Scully 
reached out and grabbed his wrist. 

He looked at her determined eyes and stilled his 
movement. Taking a few dusty breaths he rested for a 
moment, gathering strength.

She was too tired to speak, but let her emotions show in 
her eyes. Come on, they said. I know you can do this. 
Please do this. Do this for me.

He swallowed hard and allowed her to see the emotion 
inside him. I love you, was all she could see.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded with eyes closed, collecting his strength 
again. 

"On three, all right?" he asked.

"Yes."

"One...two...*three*." He squeezed the last word out 
as he pulled himself forward in a mighty effort. 

The rope creaked in protest, burning Scully's hands and 
threatening to make her let go. I'm *not* letting go, she 
thought, I'm not.

Just when it seemed she could hold him no longer he 
was beside her on the ground panting.  A surge of joy 
shot through her to see him as they lay there like 
beached fish gulping air. She reached for him again, 
desperately needing the contact.

He gave her a half-grin and held her hand. But they 
couldn't rest despite their obvious need for it. The 
Survivalist was coming. 

Scully got up on her knees and went to Doggett. 
Unzipping his parka to check the wound, she saw he'd 
soaked through the bandage and blood was congealing 
underneath him. Forgetting her own exhaustion and 
pain, she rummaged through the sack for more 
bandages. Coming up short, she had an inspiration.

With deft, but somewhat clumsy hands she removed her 
bra. She wadded it up into a ball and pressed it to his 
shoulder. After a minute or two she taped it down.

"I've been dreamin' about gettin' that off you for months 
now, but I never thought of these circumstances."

She smiled grimly down at him. "You can take it off 
when we get back."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes."

He rolled to his feet and stood up. "Well, let's go then." 
He seemed suddenly energized, and she wished she'd 
thought of it as an incentive sooner.

"Which way?" she asked.

They looked in both directions, the car nowhere in 
sight. The sun was going down and so was the 
temperature. If the Survivalist didn't get them, the cold 
would.

"Well, if the sun is settin' in the west, and we were 
driving north..." He paused. "It's that way," he said 
pointing uphill.

Inwardly Scully groaned. He *would* have to pick the 
harder route. They trudged up the incline like two 
ragged scarecrows. Scully thought she'd walked more 
miles than she ever cared to remember, and ever wanted 
to walk again.

One foot in front of the other, she repeated, one foot in 
front of the other...

When they finally reached the top of the hill Scully was 
afraid to look. If it was yet another hill, she didn't think 
she could make it.

"Look, Dana," Doggett whispered.

Their bureau car sat like a wounded beast on the side of 
the road. It appeared untouched, as if waiting for them 
to reappear.

"Come on."

The stumbled down the incline like the hapless Jack 
and Jill of the nursery rhyme, walking those last steps 
with great effort. Doggett reached the car first, and 
fished his keys out.

"*You're* going to drive?" She was incredulous.

"Somethin' wrong with that?" he challenged.

"Your shoulder..." she started.

"Yeah, and your wrist," he said pointing to her bruised 
arm.

Scully had a strange feeling of deja vu, remembering a 
time when she'd argued with Mulder over who would 
drive. She colored at the memory and got in without 
further protest.

A series of low moans issued from the car when he 
turned the key. Doggett pumped the gas and tried again. 
The motor turned faster, but still refused to start.

"Come on, come on," he said.

Doggett had just managed to start the car when the back 
windshield shattered with a loud crash.

"Shit!"

Scully turned to see a flash of metal she took to be a 
gun. A shadow ran across the road as Doggett turned 
the car around. 

"Why are you turning around?"

"Because it's the only way out."

He gunned the motor as his side mirror exploded next 
to him. Scully opened the glove compartment and 
retrieved her gun. They mounted the hill the way they'd 
come, but the gunman was nowhere to be seen. Coming 
over the hill they saw him.

A ghostly figure stood in the middle of the road, daring 
them to mow him over. Doggett didn't even slow down. 
The headlights became brighter on him as they neared, 
illuminating the fatigues, black mask and boots; glinted 
off the knives in his belt.

Just as they were about to hit him, he dove off to the 
side of the road. Doggett slammed on the brakes.

"What are you doing?" Scully screamed.

"Killing him."

He flung the door open with his gun drawn, and ran 
over to where the man had rolled. Scully turned around 
in her seat. She watched in the red reflection from the 
taillights and fading sun as he frantically searched the 
area. He finally came to a stand still, his arms limp at 
his side.

She got out and went to him. "John?"

He turned and looked at her with hollow eyes. "He's 
gone. And I don't where the hell he went."

Defeat lined his face along with grinding fatigue in the 
twilight. She went to him and put her arms around him, 
buried her face in his neck. Breathing in his sweaty, 
bloody scent was like a balm. They were still alive, they 
were still alive, her mind sang.

He pulled away from her for a moment and cupped her 
face. For the first time since they'd left the cabin he let 
his true emotions show on his rugged face: love, hope, 
fear.

Suddenly she knew. She knew why he'd picked the 
argument with her back at the clearing.

"I'll never leave you, John. Never."

"Never?" 

She saw him wince at the plaintive tone he'd used.

"Never. Not now, not tomorrow, not if Mulder comes 
back."

A smile lit up his face and he crushed her to him. They 
were alive, and everything was well between them. 

"I love you," he said.

"Say that again," Scully said, lending a teasing note to 
her voice. She wondered if he'd remember that he'd 
made her repeat it to him.

"I love you, and I'll say it again just so ya don't ask. I 
love you." 

He remembered.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Epilogue



They'd made it back in one piece, but barely. Doggett 
managed to find the town of Snow Valley and they 
were transported from there to Flint. After endless tests, 
antibiotics, a blue fiberglass cast, and a great deal of 
threatening they were released from the hospital. 

He and Scully had added their statements to the 
countless others in the Survivalist case. Agents stormed 
the cabin and bunker, only to find it empty and the box 
of evidence gone. The knives Doggett had brought back 
were found to have the blood of at least two victims on 
them. Shifting through the debris, minute evidence of a 
dozen crimes was linked to the bunker.

Mary Sand, the girl who'd brought them out to 
Michigan in the first place turned up in Flint. She'd 
wanted to leave her isolated existence for years and 
used the Survivalist case to achieve that goal.

The Survivalist remained at large, and no amount of 
searching brought him any closer to being apprehended. 
He seemed simply to melt back into the mountains, to 
another hideout perhaps. His legend grew to monstrous 
proportions. No more girls went missing for the week 
that he and Scully had been there. They were released 
from the hospital, and left when most of the search 
team did too.

Scully had sat close, but silently next to him on the 
plane. He wouldn't let her out of his sight, and touched 
her constantly, as if he were afraid she was a ghost like 
the Survivalist. He nearly followed her into the 
bathroom when she'd had to go. 

"John!" she'd exclaimed.

He knew he was being over-protective, but she was 'his' 
now.  Mine, mine, mine, he'd chanted in his head all the 
way back to Washington. He knew this thinking was 
chauvinistic, territorial, and backward. And he didn't 
care. 

 [why have you switched to the past perfect tense here?]

There had been a few awkward moments at the airport 
when it came time to leave. Scully needed to pick 
William up at her mother's, and he'd wanted to go with 
her.

"I... I need to do this on my own, John," she'd said. "I 
need time with the baby."

The suspicious side of him whispered she was meeting 
Mulder at her mother's. He tamped that voice down, but 
ached inside when she'd left. 

"I'll call you," she'd said, making it clear that he was to 
wait for her to make an overture.

He watched her disappear into the airport crowd, his 
heart splintering inside his chest.

[and now switched back to plain past tense?]

Two days later he was home wearing his favorite jeans 
and swearing loudly as he pulled hospital tape off his 
skin. Bare from the waist up, he was trying to change 
the bandage on his shoulder one-handed. Scully still 
hadn't called, even though they were both on leave to 
recuperate. He'd resigned himself to the fact that she 
wasn't going to call. Her silence spoke volumes.

He was still swearing when the doorbell rang. The pizza 
man was early and he wasn't ready yet. 

"Hold on," he yelled.

Stubbing his toe on a chair leg near the door, he let out 
a yell and a long string of expletives as he opened the 
door.

"Shit, shit, shit..."  When the door swung open he 
stopped dead.

Scully stood there with William in her arms, and a big 
bag at her side.

"Don't you know there are innocent ears out here?" she 
joked.

He was dumbfounded. This wasn't the pizzaman. This 
was...

"Agent Scully."

"Are we back to that?" she said frowning. He heard 
disappointment in her voice.

"Sorry, I'm just surprised to see ya. And William."

"We're a package deal, remember?" This time hesitancy 
and a little fear were in her voice. Was that why she 
hadn't called? Was she afraid he only wanted her and 
not the baby? Mulder had left, so why not him?

"Well I got only one thing to ask."

"What's that?" Her eyebrows furrowed.

"What took ya so long, darlin'?" 

A smile of pure relief came on her face, and he 
enfolded her and the baby in his arms. He kissed her 
forehead as he ushered her into the house and closed the 
door. 

"Still your favorite spot?" she asked when he kissed it 
again.

"Oh darlin', you got no idea."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
End