"Umbra" 24/?
                             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  :  July 19, 1997
Archive Entry  :  Book I, Chapter 24
Classification :  Action Adventure, MSR
Rating         :  R (Adult Themes, Violence, Adult Language, nudity)
               :  PLEASE SEE CONTENT NOTES AND CONTENT WARNINGS.
Notes          :  None
Antishipper    :  1 on a scale of 1-10.
Shipper        :  9 on a scale of 1-10.
Casting        :  Glenne Headly, "CMDR Maggie King"               
               :  John Glover, "Danny Graves"
               :  Val Kilmer, "CMDR Matt Stone"
               :  Sam Neil, "Capt. Ronald Ebert"
Timeline       :  4th year, prior to anything having to do with cancer.

CONTENTS       :  Please see content warning at end of story.


Enjoy!
------

"Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons,
for you are crunchy...and taste good
with ketchup."
	- Seen on a bumper sticker.


                                    -24-

	"Oh my God..." Scully whispered. Her free hand felt for the couch 
as she moved to sit.
	"Not quite," Skinner said, and Scully thought she could almost 
detect the hint of a smile in his voice. "In a way, I'm glad this 
happened Agent Scully, although I'm sure your erstwhile partner will 
waste little time reading more into this than is warranted." Scully knew 
he was right. As soon as Mulder found out that Skinner was a member of 
the Guardians, he would go ballistic, spinning multiple conspiracy 
theories, combining the hated, nameless chain-smoker, the Trilateral 
Commission and the Freemasons. Scully said nothing, letting Skinner 
continue.
	"Or..." her boss said, "are you not going to tell him?"
	"I haven't decided," Scully admitted. "Both positions have their 
advantages and disadvantages."
	"True enough, Agent Scully. But I think that in the long term, it 
would be better not to hide anything from Agent Mulder, lest you get 
branded as a member of one of his countless conspiracies." Scully nodded 
wordlessly into the phone, her mind going a thousand miles an hour. 
"Especially considering the...newly developing nature of your 
relationship."
	"W-what?" she asked.
	"Agent Scully, this is an unsecure line. I imagine that your case 
is beginning to enter the last phases. Am I right?"
	"I...I think so."
	"Very well. I think that your needs in this matter can best be 
served by a face-to-face meeting. If you can arrange for transportation 
through Admiral Karn, I can be there within a few hours." Scully checked 
her watch. It was almost two a.m. in Washington. 
	"Of course, sir," she said. "Immediately."
	"Very well. Tell Admiral Karn that I'll be at Pax within the 
hour." And with that, Skinner rang off. Scully lowered the silent phone 
to her lap and stared at it as if it would answer her thousand unasked 
questions.
	"Who was that?" Mulder asked.
	"Give me a minute," Scully said quietly. "I'm thinking."
	"Scully?" he asked again, ignoring her. "Who was it?"
	"Mulder!" Her voice was strident, commanding, and he knew enough 
to keep quiet. For the moment.
	Could it be? she thought. She tried to think clearly, but the room 
was beginning to swim, her peripheral vision contracting and expanding 
as her brain tried to compensate for this new development. Mulder, she 
thought.
	I have to think like Mulder. What questions would he ask?
	"Could you all....would you give us a minute, please?" she asked.
	Stone nodded and stood. "C'mon," he said. "I'll show you the rest 
of the house."
	Maggie looked at him, distrust clearly evident in her eyes. "Take 
the pistol if you want," he said, indicating the silenced .22 Mulder 
still held.
	Maggie thought about it and then shook her head. "Your balls are 
probably still a little tender. I'll just give `em a little jolt if you 
misbehave," she said. 
	"I'll go with you," Ebert said.
	They left.
	Mulder moved to the couch and sat down next to his partner. 
"What?" he asked.
	"That...on the phone...was Skinner."
	Mulder was on his feet in an instant. "I knew it!" he said, 
already starting to pace. "I knew that son of a bitch was involved 
in...something! I just knew it!"
	"Mulder-" Scully said softly, trying to interrupt.
	Ignoring her, Mulder continued to pace, talking more to himself 
than to her. "All those times he pulled us off of cases that weren't 
closed, when we were so close to finding the truth! All those times 
evidence vanished right after we reported to him that we'd found 
something! Those cryptic remarks, the stonewalling, the deceit, the 
lies-"
	"MULDER!" Scully shouted. He stopped, stunned. 
	"What?"
	"Sit down!"
	Slowly, he sat in the chair facing the couch. "What?"
	"Skinner is not our enemy, Mulder. Even you must realize that."
	"But-"	
	Scully sighed. "Mulder, there are certain things that you don't 
know."
	His eyes darkened. "Oh? And that you do?" 	
	Scully saw the trap coming and moved to avoid it. "Remember our 
conversation last night in the motel room? About how you blame yourself 
for everything? About your emotional masochism?"
	Mulder nodded.
	"Well, sometimes...over the course of our partnership...I haven't 
told you everything about certain...events."
	"You WHAT?" he exclaimed.
	"Let me finish, please...?"
	Mulder relaxed back into the chair, shrugging. "Sure. Go ahead. 
Finish. Finish telling me how you've lied to me. Just like everyone 
else, Scully, right?"
	The last few days' worth of frustration, anger and annoyance 
welled up inside Scully so strongly that she was sure she was going to 
explode. Physically explode, shattering her body and splattering her 
internal organs all over the walls of Stone's living room. 
	He's such a hardheaded ass, she thought. Always sure that his take 
on any situation is the only right one, the only correct one, the only 
acceptable interpretation of any given set of events. The fact that more 
often than not he <was> right did nothing to encourage him to look 
elsewhere for answers, to consider other possibilities. 
	"Mulder," she said, softly, slowly, "please think about it for a 
minute. Skinner has had more than once chance to totally derail the X-
Files, to ruin your career, have you thrown out of the Bureau. He's had 
the opportunity to have you arrested and charged, for God's sake. And 
each time, he's covered for you, or helped you get your ass out of those 
cracks you seem to be so fond of." She hesitated, trying to find the 
words to convince him, and then a sudden thought occurred to her.
	It's not my job.
	"Mulder, Skinner is coming out here. I have to make a call to 
arrange transportation. When he gets here, you can ask him point-blank 
what the hell is going on. And then you can your make your own 
decisions." Standing and moving to the kitchen to make the call, Scully 
tossed one parting comment over her shoulder. "My mind is already made 
up."
	Mulder sat, stewing in his own juices. Once again, he'd gone off 
the handle. Once again, he'd pissed his partner off. His tendency to 
jump to conclusions was really going to get him into trouble one of 
these days.
	A few minutes later, Scully re-emerged from the kitchen, folding 
the cell phone closed. "Karn's going to get a VC-20 warmed up. 
Skinner'll be here by six am, latest."
	She eyed the laptop sitting on the coffee table. "Part of me wants 
to boot that thing up and go through the records. The rest of me wants 
to take a long, hot bath and soak for hours, and then sleep for a 
month."
	Mulder nodded. "We don't have much time, Scully. Get some sleep. 
I'll check into the records."
	Scully thought about rejecting his offer on general principles. 
She was an equal partner in the relationship, both professionally and 
personally. She didn't want him carrying her, or to ever give him an 
excuse to accuse her of slacking off. It was just the kind of thing that 
he would do in a moment of anger, using his mind, his words, his 
incredible recall of events and details that others would have forgotten 
to pin her down into a position that was advantageous to him.
	How did I ever fall in love with such a nut case? she wondered.
	But, she reminded herself, the relationship had changed. For 
better or worse, they were lovers now. The dynamic had shifted into a 
new position. 
	"You don't mind?" she asked softly.
	"No. Of course not. Go. I'll call Frohickie and have him transmit 
the data. Take a bath and then get some sleep. I'll be in in a while."
	Scully wasn't sure she wanted him joining her in bed. Saying 
nothing, she turned and went to find Matt and Maggie. 
	Sighing, Mulder reached for the laptop.

***
Aboard US Navy VC-20 N4911905
Two Hours Later

	Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner, Federal Bureau of 
Investigation, sat back in the plush leather chair usually warmed by the 
backsides of Admirals and wondered what he was going to tell his two 
favorite agents. He knew that Scully would be easy to reach, that she 
would understand most of the motivations and meanings behind what he had 
prepared to tell them. Mulder, he knew, was going to be a problem.
	Problem, hell, he thought. Mulder's going to be a huge pain in the 
ass. 
	The truth was, Skinner was having a bit of trouble explaining to 
himself what he was doing involved with such a group. He thought back to 
his recruitment, as he'd come to call it, in the jungles of Vietnam 
almost thirty years ago, a jungle that had no trees, no foliage, no 
trails...
	Lost in memories of a war he had asked to fight, Skinner drifted 
off to sleep.

***
Dana Point, California

	Scully stood from the tub and grabbed the towel that Stone had 
supplied. It was large and fluffy, and she wrapped it around her body, 
shivering in the cool California night air. Mulder was still in the 
living room working with the laptop.
	Frohickie had managed to generate all the data they'd requested, 
and Mulder was busy running cross-checks.
	Stepping to the mirror over the sink, Scully reached out a hand 
and wiped some of the fog away. The sight of her own face startled her, 
and she took a staggering step back. 
	I look so...hard, she thought. Hard, taut, wired. Ready to kill at 
a moment's notice.
	Which, with a start, Scully realized she was all those things... 
and more.
	"Enjoy your bath?" 
	Scully almost screamed in surprise. She turned and found Matt 
standing in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the jamb. He had 
a very strange smile on his face.
	"How long have you been there?" she asked, furiously tugging the 
towel tighter around her.
	"Only a second. I saw you rubbing the mirror, Dana."
	"What do you want?"
	He arched an eyebrow. "I figured that since we're friends 
again..." He drifted off, not finishing the sentence, his intentions 
clear.
	Scully felt the bile rising in the back of her throat.
	The gall of this man. The unmitigated gall!	
	Turning back to the mirror, she sighed. "We're not friends, Matt. 
We're barely even colleagues." As an afterthought, she asked, "Where's 
Maggie?"
	"Asleep in a guest room."
	"She turn you down? That why you're here?"
	Stone straightened, his smug smile vanishing. Ah-ha, Scully 
thought. Bingo.
	"No...but the fact remains that I find you attractive, Dana."
	She didn't flinch at his words. There was something in his voice, 
an undercurrent of danger, a slight threatening that made her skin 
crawl. "I find you repulsive," she said softly. She glanced at the top 
of the toilet tank. Her pistol was there, hidden under her clothes. She 
estimated that she could get to it before he could get to her.
	"That's a lie," he replied. "You find me attractive, but you hate 
yourself for it. I'm sorry I put my hands on you in the restaurant, 
Dana, I truly am. But I see the way you look at me, and I know what you 
want."
	She didn't answer.
	He took a step closer. Scully tensed. If he moved six inches 
closer, he'd get one hell of a surprise.
	"You must heal fast. I'd imagine that your balls would still be 
aching."
	"I'm all man, Scully. A little kick in the balls only puts me down 
for a little bit. I'm ready to go, go, go!"
	"Matt, leave me alone. Go find a hole to crawl into and get some 
sleep. We're probably not going to get another chance until this is all 
over."
	Matt grinned, switching tactics. "I know. We could all be dead by 
Sunday. Don't you want to grant a dying man's last wish?"
	"And what wish would that be?" Scully asked, leaning in close to 
the mirror, angling her body ever so slightly towards the toilet.
	"You know," Matt teased. "You know what I want. What you want. 
What we both want."
	"Is that so?" she asked.
	"Yes," Stone said, taking the last step towards her. Scully moved 
as if she'd rehearsed it. Her hand slid under the pile of clothes and 
closed around the butt of her SIG. At the same time, she turned, letting 
the towel slide off her body. It gathered along her right arm, 
completely hiding her hand as she turned to face him. 
	Stone's eyes widened as he took in her nakedness.
	"Is this what you want?" Scully asked, her voice dead, devoid of 
emotion. "Is this it, Matt?"
	Stone licked his lips, his eyes devouring her. "Yes," he said, a 
glint in his eyes.
	"This?" Scully asked, pointing at her body. "You want this body?"
	"My, God...yes," he whispered again. "You have...a beautiful 
body."
	Scully snorted. His eyes on her had no effect whatsoever. She 
didn't feel ashamed or violated. She felt...free. He was staring at her 
the way she imagined men stared at centerfolds or porno movies; like an 
object, a thing to be used for pleasure and then discarded.
	"What part do you like best?" she asked.
	"Breasts," he gasped.
	"These?" Scully asked, looking down. She reached out and found his 
hand and pulled it to her left breast. "It's just a bag of fat and skin, 
Matt. Nothing more." She felt his fingers closing around her flesh. "We 
both know that you're a big, strong man, and I'm just a weak, little 
woman," she started. He was only half listening to her, she saw. "We 
both know that if you really wanted to, you could take me anytime you 
wanted, make me do whatever you demanded." She stepped closer to him, 
her right arm coming around, the towel sliding to the floor. She was 
inside his space now, the pistol appearing from behind her right thigh, 
the barrel coming up, up, and then sliding neatly between his legs. He 
felt the front sight blade pressing against his scrotum through his 
pants and he gasped, his hand dropping from her flesh.
	"But you'll never touch my soul, Matt. You'll never touch my 
heart. Those belong to another man, Matt. A man that has more of a 
warrior's spirit in the tip of his nose than you do in your entire 
body." She lifted the pistol slightly, digging it harder against his 
crotch. 
	"You're nothing but a fucking bully," she spat. "You could fuck me 
anytime you wanted, and I couldn't stop you. But you'd better kill me, 
you bastard, because the second you let me out of your sight..." She 
thumbed the hammer back, the sound loud in the small room. "...the 
second you let me go...I'll kill you where you sit."
	Stone raised his hands, slowly stepping back. He moved away from 
her, his eyes on hers, seeing the truth in them.
	He stopped on the threshold.
	"This is about Mulder, isn't it?" he asked. Scully didn't answer 
him, so Stone continued, his voice taunting. "What do you see in that 
little pussy, anyway?" he asked.
	Scully felt like she wanted to laugh, but she wasn't able to 
summon the energy. "There's something about Mulder that jerks like you 
will never be able to understand, Matt. Just because he's gentle... 
doesn't mean he's weak." 
	"You're an amazing woman," he said softly.
	"Fuck off," Scully said, shutting the door in his face. Stone 
stood, staring at the door, wondering how he'd managed to misjudge her 
so badly. Shrugging, he turned and walked back to the living room. He 
found Mulder working the laptop, absently pulling at his bottom lip.
	"You're a very lucky man," Stone said quietly.
	"Hmmm?" Mulder asked, not really hearing him.
	"Scully. Dana."
	The mention of his partner's name caught his attention. "What 
about her?"
	Stone wondered if he should try and play with Mulder's head. 
	"I just did something very stupid," he started. The laptop 
clattered to the table as Mulder stood. "Relax," Stone said, holding up 
a hand. "I just tried to...let her know how...how gorgeous I think she 
is."
	Mulder took a step towards Stone, fire burning in his veins. "If 
you hurt her..." he said slowly.
	"Relax, Mulder! I'm trying to tell you that that little... 
firebrand made it more than clear to me that...well, she's in love with 
you." Stone paused, and then added, "I think she always was."
	Mulder looked at the doorway leading down the hall. He took a step 
towards it, meaning to go and see if Scully was OK. "Wait," Stone said, 
reaching out to grab Mulder's arm.
	"Listen to me," Matt said softly. "She can more than take care of 
herself, Mulder."
	"What happened in there?"
	Matt considered telling him. "Nothing, Mulder."
	Mulder saw the lie in Stone's eyes and chose to ignore it.
	For the moment.
	"What's your problem, Stone? Why do you have to fuck with people 
so much? Maggie, Scully...God only knows how many others."
	Stone grinned at Mulder. "I guess the doctors were right. They 
told me I have poor impulse control. I see something I want and I go 
after it."
	Mulder felt his jaw tightening, but said nothing. "That helps when 
I'm chasing asshole dirtbags like Graves. Doesn't help me too much when 
I'm trying to impress a lady, though," Stone said. 
	"Oh, you made an impression on her, all right," Mulder said 
softly. He felt the heat in his chest rising as he turned to face Stone 
fully. He leaned in, his nose an inch from the other man's face. "On her 
neck, you asshole!"
	Stone nodded. "I already apologized to her."
	"And you think that makes it all right? What kind of sick fuck are 
you, anyway?"
	Stone had had enough of Mulder. "The kind of sick fuck that cost 
millions of your tax dollars to train! The kind of sick fuck that you 
and all your liberal friends whine and bitch and moan about all the damn 
time, until you need us, until you need someone killed in a particularly 
brutal way. Then we're professional soldiers that are `regretfully' 
needed to preserve democracy, Mulder."
	Mulder put a hand in the middle of Stone's chest and pushed, hard. 
Stone stumbled back a step and then hit the wall squarely with his back. 
Mulder was in his face a moment later. 
	"Listen to me, you sanctimonious moron! I understand better than 
anyone the need for Green Berets and SEALs and Force Recon Marines! I 
know what they ask you to do! I know what they <make> you do! But that 
doesn't mean you have to be...whatever it is that you've become! You're 
the worst kind of operator, Matt! You <like> it too much! No one should 
enjoy your job as much as you do!"
	Stone pushed Mulder back, stepping away from the wall. "Of course 
I like it! When I'm on a mission, I'm God, Mulder. I have the power of 
life and death in my hands. I am the avenging God of War, come down to 
visit death and destruction on my enemies, the enemies of my country, of 
my way of life! When the brass unlocks my cage, I <am> death! I <become> 
it! You can't do that for as long as I have, as well as I have and not 
like it! You don't get a taste for it and you're dead." Stone stopped, 
hands on his hips, his voice mocking. "But then again, I forget who I'm 
talking to! How many men have you killed, Mulder? Hmm? How many lives 
have you taken?"
	Mulder flinched. Every person he had ever been forced to kill flew 
through his mind. He could hear his pistol going off, the kick against 
his hand, the shock of the gun's explosion rocketing up his arm, the 
thunderclap of death and dying loud in his ears, the scent of gunpowder 
and cordite in his nose.
	"More than you probably imagine, Stone. The difference between you 
and me is that I can understand the difference between the necessity of 
killing someone and the pleasure of it."
	"We're more alike than you'd like to admit, Mulder. I'm just 
better at it, that's all." And with that, Stone turned and stormed out 
of the living room.
	Shaken, Mulder took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself 
down. What was it about that man that made him so infuriating? He was 
always so sure of himself, so sure that he was right all the damn time! 
God, Mulder thought, that gets so annoying!
	The irony completely lost on him, Mulder returned to the couch, 
shut the laptop down and went to Scully's bedroom.

***
Aboard US Navy VC-20 N4911905


	Fire.
	Heat.
	Pain. Agonizing pain.
	Light. Bright white light. 
	Hospital. The odor of antiseptic. Flashes of white, the smell of 
soap, of clean, fresh hair. The gentle undercurrent of a woman's unique, 
distinct smell. 
	Voices.
	Doctors, talking about him.
	Later, through the haze of drugs, an interview. A debriefing. 
Questions, endless questions. The drugs made him loopy, made it easier 
to talk about what he'd seen, what he'd been forced to do by 
circumstance. The promise by the voice asking the questions that they 
understood, that it was required by the situation, that no one need know 
what had happened in the burnt, scorched hole that had once been green, 
lush jungle. And then the offer.
	Make sure, the voice had said. Help us make sure that it will 
never happen again, that others would never be in the same position you 
found yourself in. Become one of us. 
	Higher duty.
	Moral imperative.
	Go on with your life, they'd instructed. We'll contact you. 
Remember us.
	Remember them.
	The names, the faces. All of them. 11 men, all dead. Remember 
them.
	When we come again, you'll be asked to join for real. You'll have 
time to think about it, to mull it over, to make sure it's what you want 
to do. You can turn us down. But if you accept...
	If you accept, you are one of us.
	Guardians.
	Knights, in the realm of the 20th century world. Don your armor, 
mount your steed, grasp your lance and ride out to do battle against the 
enemy.
	Six years. It had been six years later. Three days after the 
letter from the FBI had arrived, inviting him to join the Bureau, 
telling him when to report for indoctrination. The phone call had come 
just before bed, the words ringing in his ear.
	"When fire and water do battle, it is firez that loses," the voice 
whispered.
	"I remember," he said.
	"Your decision?"
	"Another year. Please. I need to...think."
	There was a pause, and then a voice that belonged to a face that 
he would never see agreed.
	"A year, then. One more year. Be well, Walter."
	That first year had flown by in a flash. Academy training, and 
then graduating, getting his first assignment. Kansas City. Bank Robbery 
squad. Prestigious for a rookie agent. He'd made his bones quickly. It 
was 1976. 
	And then it had happened.
	His trust shattered, his beliefs cast aside. The suspect, in 
custody, confession completed and signed. Then...two agents. CI13, they 
said. Counterintelligence. This man knows things, things we need, the 
men had said. He cannot be charged. He's too important, too vital to the 
national security interests. You have no case. Trust us.
	He'd argued, holding up the confession. Proof, he'd said.
	What confession? they'd asked, taking it from his hands and 
ripping it to shreds. We don't see any confession.
	When the call had come again, a year to the day, a year to the 
minute, he'd been sitting by the phone, waiting for it to ring.
	Lifting the phone, he hadn't even waited for the recognition 
phrase. "I'm in," he'd told them.
	"We'll be in touch," the voice said, and rang off.
	They had been true to their word.
	In his sleep, Walter Skinner mumbled "Guard..." and shifted in his 
seat.

***
Dana Point, California.
	
	Mulder entered and found Scully already in bed. She was lying on 
her side, facing away from him. He glanced at his watch. It was almost 
midnight. Sighing, he stripped down to his shorts and slid into the bed 
next to her.
	"Shut the door," she said softly.
	Mulder got up and shut the door and then quickly moved back to the 
bed. Sliding between the sheets, he made his way over to her and gently 
slid an arm around her waist.
	Scully stiffened and pulled away slightly.
	Withdrawing quickly, Mulder scooted back across the bed, away from 
her. He felt the panic welling up inside him.
	She doesn't want me to touch her, he thought. Oh my God. What 
happened? What did I do wrong?
	Scully thought about telling Mulder what had happened in the 
bathroom, but knew that he would probably get out of bed and try to kill 
Stone. How could she explain what had happened to him? So he'd seen her 
naked. Big deal. As a physician, a pathologist, Scully understood better 
than most that the body was a shell, a vessel, nothing more. A naked 
body was just a body without clothes. It held no intrinsic sexual pull; 
it was only when you felt something for the person inside the body did 
nakedness hold any magic, any heat, any fire. 
	Her breast. Stone's hand on her breast. If Mulder ever found out 
about that... It'd been a tactic, Scully knew, a way to distract him 
long enough to get him to drop his guard. Mulder would never understand 
that. Mulder wouldn't understand that it was his touch she craved, not 
Stone's. That she wanted to feel his hands on her, on her body, all over 
her body, touching and tracing and stroking and...and...
	The memory of Mulder's hands on her body slid through Scully's 
mind. A holy place, he'd called it.
	She turned over, reaching for him. She needed him, needed him to 
touch her the way she wanted to be touched, the way she ached to be 
touched by him, by no one else but him.
	Only Mulder.
	Ever.
	"Make love to me," she whispered.	
	"Scully! There's-"
	She silenced him with a kiss, her hands insistent, searching for 
and finding his secret places. Her hand slid beneath the elastic 
waistband of his briefs, finding and grasping his hot, hard length. She 
used it like a lever, tugging him over to her, on top of her. She was 
ready for him, wet and eager, and he slid inside her effortlessly, 
filling her with himself, with his love. They moved slowly, gently, her 
arms around his neck, her own neck arched to allow him to trail kisses 
down her throat, across her chest. She made inarticulate little sounds, 
moaning and keening, losing herself in the moment, wanting to feel 
alive, vital, treasured...worshipped.
	He began to move more quickly, sensing her approach to that final 
release, that little death. "Oh yes," she whispered. And then louder, 
and louder still, until the moment of sexual apogee, when they were both 
there, on the brink together, Mulder's fingers clutching her arms as he 
filled her again and again. 
	"Oh my GOD YES!" Scully screamed.
	Down the hall and around the corner, Commander Matt Stone thought 
evil thoughts about Dana Scully, and then smiled in the darkness of the 
guest bedroom.
	Touche, he thought.	

---------------
End Chapter 24

Content: ScullyAngst. MulderAngst. SkinnerAngst. Gun-to-the-groin-
persuasion. Dirty words. Lots and lots of potty mouths. Gratuitous naked 
Scully. ActionScully! complete with accessory pack.