"Umbra" 11/?
			       By Dawson E. Rambo

Disclaimer : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any
other tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris Carter
remain his copyrighted property, the property of 1013 Productions,
and the property of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox,
Inc. No infringement of any copyright is intended. Characters
created by the author remain his property.

Original Post  :  May 19, 1997
Archive Entry  :  Book I, Chapter 11
Classification :  Action Adventure, MSR-ish
Rating         :  R (Adult Themes, Violence, Adult Language)

Enjoy!

See the end for definitions of words that I use herein. 
============================================================
                               -11-

	Holy shit, Fox thought, and then grimaced.
	"What's wrong?" Scully asked.
	"Nothing," he whispered. "I just remembered that I have
two interviews scheduled for tonight. I can't believe that I
forgot." He pushed away and walked back to his desk, slumping
down in the chair. Scully tried to hide a smile, and failed
miserably.
	"Mulder," she said, softly reproachful. He looked up, saw
the expression on her face, and returned her expression with a
rueful one of his own.
	"Tell you what. You go up ahead of me. Get us checked in
and all that, and after I finish the interviews, I'll jump on a
plane and meet you there tonight."
	Scully considered this for a brief moment and then nodded,
accepting his logic. "Sounds good to me." Mulder let a soft sigh
escape him, hoping she wouldn't notice. He was glad she'd agreed
to leave that night, but not for the reason Scully might have
thought. Mulder hadn't told Scully yet that he'd seen Stone
lurking outside her apartment that morning. And as sure as the
sun rose every morning, Mulder knew that Stone would be there
again tonight, awaiting her return.
	And Mulder desperately hoped he would be. He had plans
for Commander Matthew Stone, USN.
	Scully gathered her coat and briefcase and turned towards
the door. "One more thing, Mulder," she said at the door. "When
you get into Groton tonight, wake me up. No matter what time,
okay?"
	Mulder gulped, wondering if she meant what he thought she
did. She turned her head slightly and smiled at him, and Mulder
knew that she did mean what he thought she did.
	Didn't she?
	With another infamous Enigmatic Scully Smile, she twisted
the knob, opened the door, stepped out and was gone.
	Mulder stared at the closed door until the phone rang,
startling him.
	"Mulder," he barked into the phone.
	"It's Hamm," the voice said. "I'm at Dulles."
	"That was fast," Mulder said.
	"Got my own plane. Don't have to wait on the damn
airlines. Where do you want to meet?"
	Mulder thought quickly. The Hoover building seemed like
the best bet. Stone would be at Scully's apartment. "Why don't
you come to my office? I'm at the Hoover building, on-"
	"I know where it is, boy. Have security at the K street
entrance waiting for me."
	Hamm hung up, and Mulder quickly dialed security and
informed them that he was expecting a visitor within the hour.
Glancing at his watch, he decided that he had time to grab
something to eat in the cafeteria before Hamm arrived.

*** 1750 Hours

	Mulder was polishing off the last bit of a rather juicy
roast beef sub when the knock came at his door. "Come," he called.
A uniformed FBI Building Security agent stuck his head in the
door.
	"Agent Mulder? You were expecting a visitor?" Mulder
nodded and rose to greet Steven Hamm. The man that entered his
office was not at all what he expected an ex-Navy commando to
look like. Unlike Stone, Hamm was short, about five six, and wiry.
His body was leanly muscled, with thick, strong-looking forearms.
His gaze was direct, intense, his eyes boring into Mulder's.
	"Commander," Mulder said, aware that military types grew
very attached to their ranks.
	"Actually, I was frocked to Captain before I pulled the
pin," Hamm said, and then added with a smile, "But you can call
me Steve."
	"Steve, then," Mulder smiled. "I'm Mulder."
	"Not sure I trust a man I can't call by his given name,"
Hamm offered, taking the seat Mulder had indicated. Mulder sat
and regarded the man across the desk from him.
	"I don't even let my parents call me by my first name,
Steve. If you prefer, I'll call you Hamm."
	Hamm shook his head. "Nah, I guess a man has a right to
be called what he chooses." Mulder got an instant impression off
of Hamm. His constant use of the word `man,' and the way he
wrapped his mouth around it spoke volumes to Mulder. Hamm was the
kind of military officer that believed in the concept of `men'
and `man,' the kind that thought there were certain things a man
should do, and a longer, more complete list of things a man
should not do. And if his response to the mention of Stone's name
was any indication, Stone had done things that Hamm considered
very unmanly.
	"Steve, I want to thank you for coming up to see me,"
Mulder started. Hamm waved him off.
	"Just a matter of time before I got the call. I knew that
fifteen years ago. I'm just glad it caught up to the prick before
he made Captain."
	Mulder frowned. "Is he scheduled for promotion?"
	"Not that I'm aware. Stone's just one of those pricks
that makes it look real easy, moving up the ranks. Hell, I
started out as an EM, got myself a degree, went to OCS and
finished, like I said, frocked to Captain. Took me almost thirty
years. Took Stone less than that. Asshole."
	Mulder was trying to decide if Hamm was bitter at being
passed over by an Annapolis graduate, a member of the Old Boys
Network that seemed to protect and look out for members of the
service academy in all branches of the military.
	"What can you tell me about Stone?" Mulder asked.
	Hamm snorted. "Whyan't you tell me what you know `bout
the prick, and I'll fill in the blanks."
	Quickly, Mulder hit the high notes. "And," he added,
"just this afternoon, he put his hands on my partner."
	Hamm snorted. "Hope your partner put a bullet into the
bastard."
	"She almost did," Mulder confirmed. Hamm's eyes widened
at that, but he said nothing.
	"So..." Mulder said, trying to draw Hamm out.
	"So what, Mr. Mulder? You want to know why I keep calling
Stone a `bastard' and a `prick,' am I right?" Mulder nodded.
"Well, let me tell you what happened in Libya. What really
happened." Hamm paused, gathering his thoughts. "Part of the
problem, I guess, was that we caused the damn problem ourselves.
	"One of the original cover stories was that we were
trying to interdict a nuclear weapons program that Libya had
begun with Chad. That was a pile of bullshit, as far as it went.
Anybody that knows anything about the area knows that Chad and
Libya hate each other. Hell, everyone hates Libya. Goddamn
Qadiffi is as nutty as a fruitcake, you ask me. But someone,
somewhere, decided that he was stable enough to deal with. And
after Iran, we wanted to make sure we had a good friend on the
Arab side in that mess of a Middle East. We already are pretty
good friends with Israel, as long as their agenda matches ours.
As soon as we start to deviate, Israel starts getting antsy, and
we can't do dick with anyone there that's not Jewish." He saw a
sudden darkness in Mulder's eyes, and quickly moved to correct
himself.
	"Let me make one thing clear, Mr. Mulder. I'm no anti-
Semite. But I do believe that we need stability in that region,
and there are some factions on the Israeli side that need to
chill the fuck out a bit. They have to realize that we need
friends on all sides of the fence, and if they'd allow us to make
friends, we might just be able to keep all the real anti-Semites
off their backs.
	"And, of course, that's what caused the entire problem.
Someone somewhere decided to give some...information, some advice
to the Libyans to...shit, I don't know what the reason was. But
we never gave any real useful information to them. But the
information we did give them was enough. They found a couple of
Germans that liked the idea of a few hundred million in a bank
account in exchange for CNWDI help-"
	"Excuse me?" The word Hamm had said sounded like "Cindy,"
but Mulder didn't recognize the acronym.
	"CNWDI. Critical Nuclear Weapons Design Information. How
to make a little bomb make a really big boom."
	"We gave that information to Libya?"
	"No, not really. We gave them just a little bit of help
with some other matters. Seven-axle milling machines, tools like
that. Stuff that can be used to build a nuke, or submarine
propeller blades. Dual-use technology is the term."
	"Didn't DTSA get upset?"
	"Well, if they fuckin' knew about it, I'm sure they would
have, Mr. Mulder. This was high-level intelligence stuff. No one
over at DTSA had a vote."
	"I see."
	"No," Hamm corrected. "You don't. But you will. See, once
the morons in DC realized that Qadaffi had more help than he
needed making a boom-boom, we were sent in to make it go away. My
SEAL Team, Alpha and Bravo Platoons, SEAL Team One, were sent in
to make the nuclear refinery and the site where we had shipped
all those cool toys go away. The only problem was that OPSEC got
blown out of the water, and we had those little kiddies waiting
for us. A Soviet transport plane dropped `em right on our
position. As you probably knew already, Stone got his plane shot
out from under him, and he parachuted down in the middle of the
action."
	Mulder nodded, he knew this.
	"But what you don't know is what happened next. We were
on a secure radio link back up the chain of command. We were
ordered to take the survivors out. Kill them all, as the saying
went, and let God sort `em out. Our CO refused. Said he wouldn't
be a party to killing children. Stone outranked the CO,
technically, and he ordered Sam to do the deed. Sam again refused,
and instead of getting into an argument in front of the men,
Stone took Sam behind a sand dune and tried to explain the
geopolitical implications of having any survivors. Sam again
refused, or so I suspect, because the next thing I know, Sam's
got a bellyfull of lead."
	Hamm paused. "Stone executed my Commanding Officer, Mr.
Mulder. He cited an old provision in the UCMJ about cowardice in
the face of the enemy, and killed Sam deader'n shit. Then he
announced that he would kill any SEAL that didn't carry out the
lawful orders of the officers appointed above them."
	Mulder frowned. "SEALs are trained killers, Mr. Hamm.
Everyone knows that. Why the hell didn't they take Stone out in
the desert?"
	Hamm smiled, a grim, deaths-head smile that shook Mulder
to the core. "Because of OPSEC again, Mr. Mulder. Sam, my CO, and
Stone, the air element commander, were the only ones that had the
radio codes to get us the fuck out of there. If we had killed
Stone and then tried to contact the Nimitz for extraction, we
would have been told politely to go fuck ourselves. Stone had us
between Iraq and a hard place." Hamm smiled at his own weak joke.
"Stone then proceeded to execute thirty children by shooting them
in the back of the head. Waxed a good lot of `em before some of
the more bloodthirsty SEALs realized that Stone was serious, and
they proceeded to do the rest."
	Mulder asked the next obvious question. "Did you kill
anyone?"
	"No," Hamm said softly. "I picked two that were already
dead and put a bullet into their heads. I didn't want to get left
in the desert, son."
	Mulder nodded; he might not have agreed with the man's
actions, but he sure could understand them. "Understood," he said,
moving on. "What happened next?"
	"We got exfiltrated to the Nimitz aboard a RH-53D, and
that was the last I heard of it. I was sure that we'd be in the
papers the next morning, but nothing ever came of it."
	Mulder wrote that down. "Debriefing?"
	"Short, sweet, and to the point. That never happened, you
were never there, the usual line of bullshit."
	"I see." Mulder paused again. "What do you think
happened? About the raid, I mean. Why didn't it ever make the
papers?"
	Hamm grunted. "Not sure. I'll tell you what I think,
though."
	Mulder made a come-on gesture with his hand. "Israel. I
think a back channel communication to Libya through the Syrian
embassy told Libya in short, easy-to-understand diplomatic
sentences that if word of the raid ever hit the international
press that IAF F-15's and F-16's would level Tripoli. Bomb it
flat. And back in those days, as much as Libya publicly hated
Israel, secretly they were afraid of the little bastards."
	Again, Mulder's face held a pained expression. Hamm
frowned. "Mr. Mulder, I'm going to say this one more time. I have
no problems with Israelis. They are some of the finest soldiers I
have ever seen, and knowing what they have to go through every
day of their lives, I cannot blame them for the positions they
take in politics. They live, surrounded by their enemies, day
after day, and have only survived by having the attitude they do.
Fuck with us, and we will bomb you flat. It hasn't always worked,
but it's worked long enough and well enough for them, I suppose.
I have served with them, Mr. Mulder, fought along side them, and
have seen what they will go through in the defense of their
country. I have held their dying in my arms. If I want to call
them little bastards, I will do so, sir, and you will not make
those faces at me if you wish this or any other conversation to
continue. Do I make myself clear?"
	Mulder had heard the man's Command Voice coming through
loud and clear. He nodded. "I'm sorry, sir."
	"Pay it no mind, Mr. Mulder."
	Mulder asked the next question. "Aside from your personal
animosity towards Commander Stone, is there any other reason
you're talking to me today, sir?"
	Hamm frowned. "I see what you're getting at, Mulder."
Mulder doubted that he did, but the man's next words surprised
him and made Mulder realize that Hamm was much more astute than
his grizzled Navy-veteran exterior let on.
	"In case I'm called to testify, the prosecution, in this
case, the government, has to be sure that I'm not furthering some
hidden, personal agenda. Makes sense to me." Mulder nodded,
surprised.
	"Well, sir, I'll say this about that. The only reason I'm
talking to you is because you asked me to, because you are a
representative of the government, and I have a feeling that Stone
has finally stepped in it deep, up to his arms."
	Mulder nodded, but said nothing more.
	"Typical," Hamm grunted. "Here I spill my guts out to you,
revealing details about a covert operation, details that could
get me thrown in jail, and all you can do is nod your head like
some silly puppet."
	Mulder grinned. "I wasn't aware that guilt was in the
normal bag of tricks belonging to a Navy officer."
	Hamm smiled. "Whatever works, boy. Whatever works."
	Mulder grinned. "Well, considering that this country saw
fit to give you a TOP SECRET security clearance, I'll tell you
this much. Commander Stone was involved in a mission during the
Gulf War. He was busted off flight status after the Libyan thing,
and he joined the SEALS, as I'm sure you're aware." Hamm nodded,
motioning for Mulder to continue. "Anyway, that mission also
ended in the death of the commanding officer, and I'm beginning
to see a pattern. Stone kills anyone that doesn't agree with his
mission." Mulder paused, though, realizing the inconsistency.
	"What is it, son? You look like you got something on your
mind."
	"The mission in Iraq, or so we were told, was to
assassinate Saddam. Only this time, Stone wanted to scrub the
mission, and the CO didn't. The CO ended up dead, and the team
exfiltrated without completing the mission."
	Hamm grunted. "Makes perfect sense to me, Mr. Mulder."
	Mulder was confused. "How so?"
	Hamm grunted again. "Shit, it's staring you right in the
face, boy!" Mulder just shrugged his shoulders.
	"Why don't you explain it to me?"
	Hamm sighed deeply. "Very well. The first thought that
comes to mind is why the team was sent in. As I recall it, Saddam
was a very hard person to find. So they were probably sent in
blind, with limited or no intelligence, on the off chance that
they might stumble across Saddam. Stone has a very well-developed
sense of self-preservation. He felt the heat and decided it was
time to bug out. I bet he even got orders over secure radio to
get the hell out of dodge, and told the CO that, and the CO was
one of those gung-ho types that wanted to complete the mission,
make his bones, get his first blooding. Things like that look
good on a career 201 form, Mulder. Stone saw the writing on the
wall and did what he always does when he thinks his ass, his
career, or both are in the line. He made the problem go away."
	Hamm paused, thinking. "If you don't mind my asking, who
was the CO that Stone waxed?"
	"You don't know?"
	Hamm shook his head. "By that time, Stone had left the
teams and was working for those GOBLIN assholes."
	Mulder nodded, realizing the man was right. He opened his
notepad and flipped the pages, looking for the information.
	"Graves. Scott Graves."
	Hamm visibly blanched. "Oh shit," he said, slumping back
in his chair. "If fits...it all fits."
	"What?"
	"Mr. Mulder, you said that Commander Stone was involved
in some murders, or so you thought. All the members of the Iraqi
team have been killed, except for him, right?"
	Mulder nodded.
	"Well, try this one on for size. Scott Graves is the
younger brother of my old commanding officer, Samuel Graves."
	Mulder felt the color draining from his face. "Brothers?
He killed brothers?"
	Hamm nodded. "Looks that way."
	"Holy shit!"
	"Wait," Graves said, holding up a hand. "It gets better
than that. You mentioned another officer, a Major Haynes. That
wouldn't have been Heather Haynes, would it?"
	Again, Mulder nodded.
	"In addition to her other duties," Hamm said
sarcastically, "Heather was involved with Scott Graves."
	"I knew that."
	"Well, did you know that Heather was also involved with
Scott's brother?"
	"Sam?"
	"No, Mr. Mulder. Not Scott. There are three brothers.
Scott was the youngest. Sam was the middle. Danny is the oldest.
Danny Graves."
	And Mulder knew who the killer was.
	"What does Danny do?"
	"Danny? Danny is a legend, Mr. Mulder. Danny's got to be
close to fifty now, but in his prime, he was one of the best
specwar operators there ever was. Killing machine. He left the
teams in the late seventies to go to work for those Goblin
assholes. Then he left them because they weren't mean enough for
him. He went to something even more secret, more covert than the
Goblin teams. He went to GOLDEN ROPE."
	Mulder frowned, scribbling madly on his pad.
	"Golden Rope?"
	"Outgrowth of the Phoenix project in Vietnam," Hamm
explained. "Hunter killer teams, only they're much more subtle
than the Goblin teams. They were designed to operate in Europe,
the Far East. I know for a fact the managed to wax at least one
member of the Chinese Politburo. Don't ask me how, being they
were all white. But they managed not only to get into Beijing,
but to wax the poor bastard in his sleep and make it out, all
totally, completely undetected. That was their specialty, Mr.
Mulder. Swift, sudden, undetectable death."
	Mulder nodded, still writing. "Who can I call to confirm
this?"
	Hamm snorted, and then laughed outright. "Mr. Mulder,
there's no one in the military OR civilian intelligence apparatus
that will confirm or deny the existence of GOLDEN ROPE. For one
thing, they don't exist anymore. They were disbanded during the
ISA fiasco. They all got new names, new faces, new identities,
and vanished into the mist. You'll never be able to find-"
	"Hey, I found out about the GOBLIN teams and JOVIAL CLOWN,
didn't I?"
	Hamm begrudgingly admitted the point. "Sure. You did." He
paused. "Mr. Mulder, I spoke with an associate of mine in Texas.
He called me just before I left to inform me that he had been
asked to attend this little meeting as well. I told my friend
that I'd tell you everything, and that he has nothing to add."
	Mulder frowned. "I would have liked to...never mind, Mr.
Hamm. You've been very helpful."
	"I'm glad I could, son." Hamm stood to leave, and then
stopped. "Let me just add one more thing. If you decide to go
after Danny Graves, I'd suggest you inform your next of kin."
	Mulder looked up from his desk, thinking I have no next
of kin.
	Except Mom.
	"Why?"
	"Because he's the best that ever was, son. You go after
him, and the only thing you're gonna need is a body bag. One for
you, and one for that pretty little partner of yours." Hamm held
out his hand. "Nice talking to you, son." Mulder shook his hand
and watched as Hamm made his way out of the office. At the door,
the man stopped.
	God, what is it about that door? Mulder thought.
	"One more thing. Don't ever call me again."
	And with that, Hamm took his leave of Mulder's office.
Mulder sat down and started writing furiously, wanting to get all
his thoughts down on paper while they were still fresh. He was in
the middle of sentence, the middle of an actual word, just
writing the left frame of the letter "A" when the thought struck
him.
	How did Hamm know that Scully was pretty?
	Circles within circles, Mulder thought. An onion. A few
moments ago, he'd been ready to call Scully up in Groton and tell
her to come back, that they'd gotten all the information they
needed from Hamm. But that one remark, that casual, almost
offhand statement about his `pretty little partner' had...what?
	Brought under suspicion every single thing that Hamm had
said.
	"Shit!" Mulder swore, throwing his pen across the room.
Boxes within boxes. Circles within circles.
	What next?

*** Motel 6 Groton, Connecticut 2104 Hours

	Mulder stepped out of the cab at the motel entrance,
entered the office, got his room key and inquired about Scully's
room.
	"I'm sorry, but I can't-" the clerk started. She looked
up to see Mulder holding up his leather-bound FBI credentials
folder.
	"Oh," she said. "Room 1013."
	Of course, Mulder thought. How obvious.
	Shouldering his bag, he walked quickly to his room (1011,
next door, `natch,) and dropped everything on the bed. He crept
to the connecting door and pushed it open with his fingertips.
The room was mostly dark, lit only by the glow of the TV. Scully
was on the bed, wearing her trademark blue Pjs, her head lolling
against the headboard.
	She's asleep, he thought. He started to back away, to
close the door and let her sleep, when he remembered that Scully
had asked him to wake her.
	Well, there were ways to wake a woman, and there
were...ways. He decided to wake her the safest way he knew how,
and left the door opening. Shrugging out of his suit jacket,
Mulder moved to the bathroom, intending to start the shower. He
had so much to tell her, but he felt grimy from the road.
	"Hey," he heard. He turned.
	Scully was standing in the doorway between their two
rooms, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with the heels of her hands.
	She looks like a little girl, Mulder thought, and then
another, more important thought announced itself.
	She's only wearing the tops of those Pjs. He could see
her bare feet, and her sleek, smooth legs, and then the tail of
her top. Nothing else.
	Nothing.
	Mulder found suddenly hard to swallow.
	"You just get in?" she asked softly. He just nodded. She
smiled warmly at him, moving towards him slowly. As she passed in
front of the light on the beside table, Mulder saw the angry
marks Stone's fingers had left on her neck, and he felt the anger
rising in him again, threatening to block out all other thoughts.
Then she was in front of the light, and Mulder knew with
certainty that Scully was, indeed, not wearing _anything_ besides
that top. He saw the dark shadow between her legs and he had to
turn away, it was too much, way, way too much, seeing Scully like
that. He'd seen her naked before, and almost naked dozens of
times, in hospitals, in E.R.'s across the country and across the
world. But this was different, he knew that, and so did she.
	Mulder tried to concentrate on something else, something
different. Stone. Think about Stone. Asshole extraordinaire.
Think about the man that put his fucking hands on her neck, that
beautiful, slim, swan's neck that-
	Mulder turned back to see Scully standing very close.
Looking up at him, Scully saw the fear and the want and the
hunger and the anger in his eyes, the dangerous, volatile mix of
emotions that were always swimming just below the surface with
Mulder. His passion, his drive were so evident when she looked
into his eyes. It was a treat that Scully didn't allow herself
that often. Too dangerous.
	"Wait," Mulder said, moving around her.
	Wait? Scully thought. Wait what? What did he think I was-
	Oh.
	Mulder found his cellphone and dialed quickly. When a
voice answered, he said, "Give me the watch commander. This is
Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI." Scully shot him an eyebrow, and
he mouthed the words "Police" at her.
	Scully's eyebrow arched a little higher. He motioned for
her to join him. She moved to the bed, sitting next to where he
stood, her palms flat on the mattress looking up at him.
	"Captain Wallace," a voice answered. "Watch commander.
What can I do for the FBI?"
	"There's a man sitting outside the apartment building of
my partner, in the alley on the south side. He's stalking her. Do
me a favor and roust him, ok? Nothing too...brutal. Just make it
clear that the Annapolis police don't appreciate that kind
of...activity."
	"Mr. Mulder, is it? Mr. Mulder, can I have your FBI ID
number?" Mulder read it off from memory, and Wallace asked him to
hold.
	Scully was standing now, very close to Mulder, her hands
on his hips. "You want to explain this, Mulder? Now?"
	"In a minute, Scully." She gave him The Look, and he
frowned. "I promise. In a minute." Scully nodded, satisfied, and
sat back down on the bed. A Mulder Promise was as good as gold.
	As long as she had him in her sight, anyway.
	She sighed, waiting, and the motion caused one shoulder
to slip out of her top, baring it. Mulder glanced down, and saw
her sleek, porcelain skin, and had to look away. Didn't she know?
Didn't she know what the sight of that did to him?
	Of course I do, Scully thought, reading his mind. Does he
know what it does to me to know what it does to him? She smiled
inwardly, keeping her expression carefully neutral, as if she
didn't know what it did to him.
	Wallace came back on the line. "Give me the address, Mr.
Mulder." Mulder gave Wallace Scully's address. "By the way,
Captain, this man is armed. He is a special agent with NIS, and
he will claim that he's on an investigation. Don't believe him.
Hell, don't believe me. His CO is Admiral Jake Karn, NIS HQ,
Little Creek. Give Karn a call if you don't believe me, or call
the NIS Duty Desk at the Pentagon."
	"Don't tell me how to do my job, Agent Mulder. We'll take
care of this. Good night." Wallace hung up, and Mulder considered
faking the call for a few more minutes, but in the end decided
that it was safer to get undressed and take a shower, Scully or
no.
	He thumbed the PWR button on his cell and tossed it on
the bed.
	"Now give, Mulder," Scully demanded.
	"Shower first, Scully."
	She saw her opening and stood, her hands moving to the
buttons on her top. "If you insist, Mulder. If that's the only
way-"
	His hand stayed her actions. "Ok, fine. I give up. Sit
down."
	She looked up slowly, her eyes fluttering open, her
lashes looking like the delicate petals of a precious flower. Her
eyes, deep blue, the color of the ocean on a stormy morning,
found his, and locked, boring into his soul. Without speaking,
her hands came up and found his tie, swiftly undoing the knot and
sliding it out from under his collar.
	"Talk to me, Mulder, or I'm going to strip you naked."
	He moved back a step, finding it hard to breathe.
"Scully! What's gotten into you?"
	She sat back down on the bed, pouting. "I don't know,
Mulder. I just--" She sighed. "Tell you what, let's talk about
the asshole, and that'll probably take my mind off more dangerous
topics."
	Mulder silently gave thanks for the enigmatic Dr.
Scully's practical side, and moved to the only chair in the room,
sitting down and toeing his shoes off. Quickly, he explained what
he had seen that morning outside her apartment.
	"And so you sent me to Groton because...what? You didn't
think-"
	"Hold it, Scully. I sent you here because I had an
interview to conduct, and, well, the tickets were already booked.
Seemed a shame to waste both of them." He paused. "And to be
honest, if he had come up to your apartment, you would have shot
him dead, and that would have put the kibosh on this
investigation. At least your part in it."
	Scully nodded, accepting his logic, seeing the truth in
his eyes.
	"Why didn't you go and grab him, Mulder?"
	He grinned. "Because I wanted to get up here." To be with
you, he thought, but didn't say.
	Thank you, she thought back. He smiled, getting the
message.
	"So what did Hamm have to say?" Scully asked. Mulder
filled her in, including the part about Hamm calling her `that
pretty little partner of yours.'
	"That's odd," Scully remarked.
	"Yeah. I get the feeling we're being run-around again,
Scully."
	"You think this interview aboard the Georgia is a waste
of time?"
	Mulder considered this. "No. For one thing, we know, but
they don't know we know, ya know?" She smiled at his attempt at
levity and waited for him to continue. "We'll ambush Commander
Jenkins tomorrow morning, tell him that we know someone's been in
contact with him, and if he doesn't cooperate we'll file an
Article 16 to have him arrested by the FBI and turned over to
civilian authority on a charge of obstructing justice. That
should shake him up enough to answer the first few questions
before he realizes we don't have a leg to stand on."
	Scully nodded, agreeing. "Sounds like a good idea."
	Mulder stood, bare to the waist, bare feet, wearing
nothing but his suit pants. "And now, I'm going to take a
shower."
	Scully saw the look on his face and stood to join him.
"I'll go back to my room. Come on in and say goodnight before you
go to bed, okay?"
	"Gonna tell me a story, Scully?"
	"Maybe," she said, flashing another smile. And then she
was gone, softly closing the door behind her.
	Sighing, Mulder headed for the shower.

***

	Mulder wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the
bathroom, moving to his overnight bag. He found the comfortable
sweats and t-shirt that he liked to `sleep' in, as he referred to
it. Sleep. What a joke. He'd turn on the tv, find an all-nite-
creature-feature and doze in front of the set. Amazing what the
human body can become accustomed to, he thought. Four hours of
restless sleep a night punctuated by sweaty, nightmarish visions
of a past that he'd almost rather forget, were it not for Sam.
	He dressed quickly, and then moved to the connecting door.
Scully was asleep again, and Mulder moved to the bed, looking
down at his partner.
	The PJ top had shifted up, baring more than a partner-
like expanse of warm, smooth thigh. He thought about running his
hand over the skin there, testing the warmth and smoothness, but
decided to tug it down instead.
	His fingers had just closed over the material when
Scully's hand gripped his wrist.
	"Playing possum, Scully?"
	"I wanted..." she started, and then stopped. She started
again: "I wanted to see what you were going to do."
	"Did I pass the test?" he asked, a bit of heat creeping
into his voice.
	She turned over, still holding his wrist.
	"No," she whispered, using the wrist to pull him to her.
"I wanted you to pull it up, Mulder."

----------
END CHAPTER 11

CNWDI - Critical Nuclear Weapons Design Information -
Blueprints on how to build a nuke.

DTSA - Defense Technical Security Agency. Government agency
charged with making sure that certain high-tech goodies don't
fall into the wrong hands.

Frocked - When a US Navy officer is promoted to the next highest
rank, they are allowed to pin on the insignia of that new rank.
Until confirmed by the US Congress, however, they are not 
considered 'officially' promoted. The US Navy is unique among
the US military in this way; no other service uses 'frocking.'

IAF - Israeli Air Force, one of the finest fighting units that
has ever existed.

OPSEC - Operational Security. Trying to keep the bad guys unaware
of what you are planning to do to them.

RD-53D - PAVE LOW Special Operations-capable helicopter. Able to
hold up to 20 troops.

UCMJ - Uniform Code of Military Justice - Law governing military
officers and enlisted personnel.