TITLE: Wambli
AUTHOR: Virtie
E-MAIL: virtuesandvices@aol.com
WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/fanficcorner/
RATING: Mild NC-17, for language and sexual situations.
CATEGORY: TR - Adventure/Romance
CLASSIFICATION: MSR, X-File, Conspiracy, Mulder/other.
SPOILERS: Lot's of quotes, but no real spoilers. 
ARCHIVE: Yes, but please let me know first.
SUMMERY: A sequel to my 'Someday' trilogy, which started
with 'The Letter', continued with 'Eyes in the Night', and
ending with 'Someday'. These stories do not have to be read
to understand this one, but it is advised. 'Wambli' takes
place five years after 'Someday'.
DISCLAIMER: All X-File characters belong to CC, 10-13
Productions, and FOX. I'm not making anything really useful
from this, but I hope readers have fun reading it. The town
of Lincoln, the county of McCloud, and the Bad River Indian
Reservation are all fictional, though they are based on real
places. Other South Dakota landmarks are real.
DEDICATION: To my fellow writers whose work I still read
with a passion and who continue to support me in my feeble
attempts to emulate them, namely: Storm, Lovesfox, Havisham,
ShipMe, SASpooky and Foxie Meg, as well as all the residents
of Slap Happy's! Thanks, gals!

************************************************************

WAMBLI

*****

"For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts;
even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth
the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that the man
hath no preeminence above a beast: for all is vanity."

Ecclesiastes 4:19

*****

The Skies Over Western South Dakota
Summer

Wambli was hunting.

This event wasn't abnormal. After all, she spent 90% of her
waking hours on the hunt. She had to, seeing as nearly 9 out
of 10 dives she made at prey failed. Those weren't bad odds;
in fact, they were much better than others of her kind.
Wambli was special, and she knew it.

It was hot today. And windy. Another normal occurrence on
the Northern Plains during early August. As she soared,
Wambli felt the heat of the sun beating against the back of
her golden head, and her mouth opened, allowing the hot air
in her body to escape. She would have to find a place to
rest soon. And maybe a shallow pool to bathe in. Hot days
like this demanded access to cool water. But she was hungry,
and she needed food; she hadn't eaten in at least five days.
She turned away from the sun and twisted her head a bit to
gaze downward. The prairie grass was brown already; it had
been a dry summer. The earth tones of the prairie blended
into the barren, rocky moonscape of the Badlands, making it
almost impossible to tell where one began and the other
ended.

Her large brown eyes spotted movement immediately. A
pispiza, or prairie dog. A young one, not yet smart enough
to stay out of the sun when it was this hot. Or one that
thought he was so smart that by feeding in the heat he would
avoid being killed by the average hunter. If she could
physically have done so, Wambli would have smiled; she was
far from average.

With a sharp pull of muscle, she reduced her seven foot long
wingspan considerably, directing her large, but lightweight,
body downward. For several meters she dropped, her speed
nearing 70 miles per hour. The burrowing rodent never saw
her...until it was too late. He screeched and ran for the
nearest entrance to his underground town, but 14 pounds of
feather and hollow bone crashed into him. Wambli spread her
wings and fanned her tail feathers as she reached the little
yellow animal, stretching her feet out to grab him. Her
black talons wrapped themselves around the furry body,
squeezing with pressure that could easily break bone. The
deadly claws sank into flesh, severed arteries, and
punctured organs. Pain was minimal as the little prairie dog
died almost instantly.

With a satisfied shriek, Wambli began tearing into the warm
body. She used her feet to hold her meal down as she ripped
upward with her powerful beak. The unfortunate victim's
family members popped their heads out of their burrows,
squeaking and chirping amongst themselves as they watched
her eat. They were unafraid. Wambli had her meal; she was
content...for the moment.

She swallowed the small animal in three bites. Bone, fur,
everything. Her body would digest most of it; all but the
fur, which she would regurgitate later in the form of a
soft, oblong shaped pellet. A large lump appeared in her
throat as she ate; her crop filling with food. It would be
ground up there before being further digested in her
stomach. It was a bird's way of 'chewing', since they had no
teeth. With a sigh, Wambli shook herself, closing her wings
against her body and bringing her tail feathers back into
their relaxed wedge-shaped position. She turned her head
almost 180 degrees to straighten a mussed feather on her
back, her flexible neck showing no strain at the position.

A noise caught her attention and she stood straighter, her
head swiveling toward the sound. A truck was driving toward
her, dust trailing thickly along behind it. With a powerful
thrust of her legs, Wambli sent her body into the air, her
wings taking over and carrying her up into the blue,
cloudless sky. Humans were coming. She had long ago learned
to avoid them at all costs.

Content with her meal, Wambli went in search of an updraft.
On this hot day, it wasn't hard to find. The thermal current
she found allowed her to soar in circles with a minimum of
effort, carrying her farther and farther upward. The Turkey
Vulture, common in these parts during the warm months, was
the most accomplished of the raptors at soaring, but her own
kind was quite adept as well. Slowly, lazily she circled the
sky, her binocular vision watching as things got smaller and
smaller beneath her. Miles and miles of open prairie
stretched before her eyes, ending at the base of a small
range of mountains to the west. Paha Sapa. The Black Hills.
She passed over a highway, watching curiously the traffic
that traveled it. Not much, but more than in the winter
months. 

She passed over a ranch, over a herd of cattle grazing in
the field. Wambli had no use for cows, even during calving
season. She was large enough and strong enough to kill a
newborn calf, but she would not be able to fly away with it.
She could barely fly with something half her own body
weight. Newborn lambs offered more promise; they could at
least be dragged into hiding. But the season for birthing
was long gone; rabbits, prairie dogs, prairie chickens and
the occasional skunk were all that interested her these
days.

Something caught her eye again, and carefully, she shifted
her weight against the pull of the air currents she was
riding and flew down to have a closer look. It was a dead
calf. She circled closer. No other cattle were near, and two
vultures were already feeding on the fresh carcass. Wambli
considered. It was a recent death, probably due to sickness
or a pack of wild dogs. Coyotes would no doubt be blamed,
thought they rarely went after livestock in the summer when
other game was much easier to catch. Fresh meat, easily
obtained, was something she couldn't refuse. She made her
way toward the body.

One of the vultures immediately flew away. Though almost as
big as she was, the large black bird with the bald red head
was not a fighter. Their feet were made for walking, not
killing. And they were smart; smart enough to know when not
to argue with a predator as large as she was. The other was
an old male, smaller than the female who had just flown
away. He looked at Wambli with unconcerned eyes, hissed at
her, then continued to pull at the dead calf's hide. Wambli
landed and strode over to the carcass. She eyed the old
vulture for a while, then began  to eat, leaving him be. 

She settled into the meal, concentrating on the job, when
the old one across from her hissed again. Wambli's head shot
up and her body tensed, ready for take-off. But it was too
late. With a loud pop and a sharp rattle, the net that had
been hidden under the dirt flew up and over both birds. She
screamed and began struggling desperately, but she knew it
was no use. She readied her claws for defense. The old
vulture, not having the sharp talons of his fellow captive,
turned and faced his captors, two men who were striding
toward them wearing heavy leather jackets and welder's
gloves. With another hiss, he did what vultures do when
frightened: he vomited.

Even Wambli, with her limited sense of smell, felt sick. The
men groaned, but continued to move forward.

"Why the hell didn't you wait for the damn vulture to leave
first?" one of the men complained. 

"And take the chance of losing her?" the other answered. "No
way." Slowly, cautiously, the made their way toward the
enraged bird. "Naw. This pretty baby's gonna bring a good
price on the Rez. Old WhiteEagle loves the really big ones."

If she had been capable, Wambli would have groaned aloud,
but she could only do it in her heart. 'Not again,' she
thought. 'Not again.'

************************************************************


"Only place you had to be on time was home for
dinner...Never had to lock your doors. No modems. No faxes.
No cell phones."

"Mulder, if you had to do without a cell phone for two
minutes you'd lapse into catatonic schizophrenia."

Episode 4x03-Home

*****

McCloud County, South Dakota
Mid-August

The silver Chevy Blazer with 'McCoud County Sheriff'
imprinted on the side cruised down the highway heading north
toward Lincoln, its headlights slashing a path through the
prairie darkness. Inside the vehicle, the McCloud County
Sheriff was finishing a conversation with one of the
county's few lawyers. 

"Yeah, Tom. I understand. But at least try to get the kid's
parents to agree to him seeing a counselor, okay?"

"You bet, Sheriff. 'Night, now."

"Goodnight." With a sigh, he pressed the end button on the
small handheld instrument, then deliberately turned it off.
It had been one hell of a long day. A hell of a long week.
But at least it was over now, just a few minutes before
midnight on this Friday night, and he was on his way home at
last. His window was open, and he breathed in the warm
summer night as the breeze stirred up by his vehicle blew
inside, ruffling his dark hair. The crickets were loud in
the still night, with no wind to intrude on their symphony.
No wind was rare in these parts, he knew. Having lived here
for three years now, he felt he knew the prairie well. He
respected it, resented it at times. Loved it more than hated
it. Never wanted to leave it or the people that called it
home. 

Despite this, he was anxious for tomorrow, when he and his
family would leave it for a day. The two hour drive to Rapid
City was taken about once a month, sometimes more, and they
planned to go tomorrow. They would leave these desolate
plains for tree filled mountains filled with the hustle and
bustle of tourist season...but only for a day. Ten years
ago, he would have laughed if anyone told him he would be
content as a small town Sheriff in no-where South Dakota.
Content with his family. At peace with his life. 

But he was.

He slowed as he reached his turnoff, which was slightly less
than a mile before reaching the limits of Lincoln,
population 2,621. He pulled off the blacktop and onto the
gravel drive leading to his house. It sat on 20 acres of
prime land, perfect for horses to graze and children to
play. Large cottonwood and oak trees lined the drive, and as
he rounded a bend and drove over a slight hill, the house
came into view. Large without being monstrous, the ranch
style, two story house had been built years ago, long before
they had bought it, on property that had been settled in
1883. He smiled when he saw the light on in the living room
window. Though he knew his family was most likely in bed,
his wife had left a light on for him. The simple gesture
touched him every time he came home in the dark.

His headlights flashed on the gardens that lined the house,
full of blooming flowers. Though the season had been dry,
his wife had kept the gardens, both the flowers here in
front of the house, and the vegetables in the back, growing
beautifully. Two dogs raced out from behind the house,
barking. A quick shout out the window had them quieting, but
they still raced wildly about, tails moving non-stop,
welcoming their master home. He quickly rolled his window up
and parked next to the Cavalier in front of the garage,
which they rarely used in the summer. He got out and the
dogs began jumping on him.

"Bad dogs," he said halfheartedly. "You know you're not
supposed to do that!" The black and white Border Collie
Ricky and the Rottweiler Grizz ignored him, trying to jump
up his 6 foot length to lick his face. They nearly
succeeded; Grizz had the size and Ricky had the bounce.

He made his way around the house to the side door, noticing
as he did the distant flash of lightning in the Northeast.
For a moment he felt hope that the storm would move this
way, bringing rain. But he knew it was the wrong direction.
Most of their storms came from the west. He stepped into the
mudroom, where the light was also on waiting for him,
leaving the dogs outside; they only got to come in during
the frigid nights of winter. He stepped out of his work
boots, setting them by the door next to a smaller pair of
work boots, two pairs of cowboy boots, and two tiny pairs of
shoes.

He removed his holster from his belt, took out the gun,
removed its clip, then put the gun back into the holster. He
stepped over to a high cupboard and placed the ammunition
clip inside, locking the door. The gun, empty of all
ammunition, would be placed in the drawer next to the bed
with his wife's, which was also empty. This ritual had
started more than three years ago, ever since his son had
started crawling. This house, this town, was the first place
he had felt comfortable living unarmed since he was a child.

He left the mudroom and entered the kitchen, flipping the
light off behind him. He moved carefully through the dark
room, intent on the light showing from around the corner in
the living room, his sock covered feet almost soundless on
the linoleum. He knew there would be something to eat in the
fridge, but he had eaten with one of his deputies, Lucas,
earlier, and he wasn't hungry...at least not for food.

Entering the living room, he grimaced at the sight that
beheld him. "Samson! Down!" His voice was quite, but firm.
The little grey and white Shih Tzu glared at him from the
couch, but jumped down anyway. With his tail between his
legs, he wandered over to the pet bed, where the gold and
white Pekinese, Delilah, lay, her little mouth open and
panting in the warm night, her long tail wagging. "And stay
down," he said to the little dog before switching off the
light and heading up the dark stairs.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark again as he peeked
into the first room he passed, the door only half closed.
His four-year-old son lay sprawled on his bed, the covers
pushed off both him and the bed. Though they had an
air-conditioner downstairs, the cool air had a hard time
reaching the upstairs bedrooms. One of the modern amenities
the house had lacked when they bought it was central air. He
smiled as the boy moved slightly, sighing in his sleep,
mussing his dark hair more than it already was. Quietly, he
leaned out and started up the hall to the next door, which
was also half open.

He stepped inside this room, walking carefully over to the
crib in the center of the room. His six-month-old daughter
slept here. She lay on her belly, her dark hair damp from
sweat. He brought his hand down to wipe her forehead gently,
trying not to wake her, and was relieved to find her
forehead cool, despite the sweat. It was just the heat and
not a fever. Little Marisa had been sick two weeks ago with
the chicken pox, which she had gotten from her brother. She
was recovering fine, but he still worried. He bent over the
railing of the crib and placed a kiss on the baby's head. He
checked to make sure the baby monitor was on, then left the
room. His final stop was the bedroom directly across from
Marisa's.

He entered the room and headed directly for the bathroom,
not turning on the light until the door was closed. Setting
the gun on the counter, he quickly stripped off his clothes
down to his boxers, relieved himself, then quickly washed up
at the sink. He stopped and looked at himself in the mirror
for a moment. At forty-five, he was still a handsome man, or
so his wife told him, and he had to admit he was aging well,
though he still thought his nose was too big for his face.
The lines around his eyes and mouth were more prominent than
they had been five years ago, but she reassured him that
they were there not because of age, but because he had
learned to laugh more. His hair was shorter than ever,
almost military short, and he had started to wear a beard
during the winter, which kept his face warm, shaving it when
spring rolled around. He had changed a lot in five years.

His eyes had changed the most, he thought. No longer did
they carry that deep depression that had followed him since
he was twelve. There was still a hint of sadness about them;
that wasn't unusual given the horrors he had experienced in
his life. But there was a calmness, a contentment, now. He
was happy. And not at all afraid to show it.

With a small smile still on his face, he left the bathroom,
grabbing the gun and flipping off the light at the same
time. He walked toward the bed, where his wife slept. He
looked at her while he placed his weapon in the drawer next
to the bed. She had her back to him, her long red hair
twisted in a braid. Like her son, she had pushed the covers
off of herself, and the tee-shirt she wore, his tee-shirt,
had worked its way upward, exposing her legs, her simple
cotton panties, and her lower back. Including the tattoo.
With a smirk, he turned back toward the door, closing it. He
didn't lock it, not when there was a chance their son might
need them, but the boy already knew to knock and ask to come
in if the door was closed. It gave his parents at least some
time to reorganize themselves. 

He moved back to the bed, turning the baby monitor up so
they could hear Marisa despite any noise they might make,
slipped out of his boxers and slid onto the bed behind his
wife. He was already half aroused. Even after five years of
marriage, all he had to do was think about her. God, he was
lucky.

He stretched out behind her small form, wrapping his arm
around her, and began to nuzzle her neck. She sighed.

"Mulder?"

He smiled against her skin. She was always the one who had
to remind them not to use 'those' names, but when she was
tired or stressed or angry, she often slipped. "No," he
whispered against her ear, then took the rim gently between
his teeth.

"Oops," she breathed, then she pushed her bottom against
him. "Sorry."

He chuckled, knowing she would probably say it again before
they were done. Even after five years, their subconscious
refused to deny their real identities. And that was okay,
just as long as they only slipped in private. Even then,
they were getting better at calling each other by their
current first names. She hardly ever called him 'Fox' at
certain...significant...moments like she used to. Of
course, that could be because she had, after days of
cajoling, convinced him to name their son Fox. She once told
him it was a little strange to be shouting out her son's
name during sex, especially since he hadn't even been
conceived that way.

"Mmmmm," she breathed as his hand slipped underneath her
shirt to toy with her breasts. "The kids?" she asked. 

"All is well," he mumbled. "Though we should consider
getting air-conditioning up here. Fox's bedding was on the
floor. And Mishka was sweating like a pig." Mishka was his
pet name for their daughter.

"Pigs don't sweat," she quipped. "Did you check for fever?"

"Yes," he told her. "She's fine." He began to pull down her
panties. "Can I have these off, please?"

She willingly helped him slide the underwear down her legs.
A touch between her legs told him she was more than ready.
Without further ado, he slid into her from behind, bringing
her right leg back over his.

"What ever happened to foreplay?" she said on a moan.

"You tell me," he countered. "What the heck were you
dreaming about before I got here?"

"What else?" she whispered. He smiled, knowing the answer.
"Harrison Ford." She squealed as he pinched her nipple.

"Very funny."

Talking stalled as his movements increased in intensity. She
rocked back against him, moaning in that way she had that
made him crazy. Their coupling lasted much longer than the
foreplay had, ending in powerful climaxes that had them
breathing hard and sweating more. Without another word, he
pulled away from her, knowing it was too hot to cuddle, and
let himself drift.

"Mulder?" Her sleepy voice caused him to open his eyes and
look at her. She had turned to face him.

"Hmmmm?"

"Work?"

He smiled. "Free for the weekend. Lucas is handling it."

She smiled back at him, then closed her eyes and fell
asleep.

He sighed and closed his own eyes. Tomorrow would be a busy
day, but a good kind of busy. They were driving to Rapid for
brunch, then they were spending the day in the Hills. They
planned on stopping at Mt. Rushmore. And Reptile Gardens was
at the top of the list, too. Even Mishka would love the
funny animals there. Maybe, if they had time, they could
stop at the Rock. They hadn't been there since Fox was
Mishka's age.

Sunday, his wife would take Fox and attend mass at St.
Joseph's in Bad River, and they would spend the afternoon
playing outside, in the shade, being lazy. 

Perfect.

And so Ian Zweifel, Sheriff of McCloud County for the past
two years, resident of Lincoln, South Dakota for the past
three, husband of Dr. Sara Zweifel, the local pediatrician,
for five years, and father of Fox and Marisa, fell asleep.

Completely unaware that his idyllic, dreamlike life was
about to come to a shattering end.

*****

End 1/18

Wambli-Part 2/18
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

"Scully, you don't know me as well as you think you do. You
know my work demands that I live in a big city, but if I had
to settle down, build a home, it'd be a place like this."

"It'd be like living in Mayberry."

Episode 4x03-Home

*****

Sunday turned out to be a bit cooler that the rest of the
week had been, with the thermometer only reaching 86
degrees. Though storm clouds were already building in the
northwest, the Zweifel family was enjoying the afternoon
outside in their backyard. It was a perfect backyard, with
thick grass that was watered regularly, despite the dry
summer, and therefore was still green. Old oak trees grew
here, having been planted by the original settlers back in
1883, and a Weeping Willow, though much younger than the
oaks, brought a great deal of shade. It was under this
willow that Sara Zweifel lay, regarding the day through lazy
eyes.

She had been reading, lying reclined in the grass, the
persistent Dakota breeze fanning her long red hair and the
draping branches of the tree above her, but had put her book
down a short while ago in favor of watching her husband and
son. Ian was attempting to teach Fox how to bat. She smiled
as she remembered a similar training session from several
years ago, with herself as the 'trainee'. This session was
going a bit different than that one had gone, but it was
just as fun. The bat being used was big, blue, and made of
plastic, as was the ball. Ian was on his knees next to his
son, bringing him close to the little boy's level. The wind
ruffled their sable colored hair and laughter flashed in
their hazel eyes. They looked so much alike, it was
frightening. And wonderful.

She glanced over at her baby daughter, who lay napping on a
blanket next to her. Little Marisa had the same dark brown
hair, but she had gotten her mother's blue eyes and fair
complexion, with a small smattering of freckles that she may
or may not grow out of. Samson lay next to the baby,
panting. Immediately after her birth, the little dog had
staked his claim. Territorial to the extreme, he was
incredibly defensive of Marisa, even to the point of running
to her side and growling at Ian when her father dared raise
his voice for some obscure reason. But, then again, Samson
had never really liked Ian, if only because he knew Ian
didn't like 'little yappy dogs'. Delilah, on the other hand,
loved Ian to death, despite his apparent distaste (Sara had
caught him taking baby talk to the little Pekinese more than
once, though). The only things Delilah didn't like were
Grizz and Ricky, Ian's dogs; she felt she had to defend her
Samson from them and all other big dogs.

The grumble of thunder brought her attention to the west
again. The cloud was big and dark, holding the promise of
rain. Ian also looked at the cloud, then glanced out toward
the fields behind the yard where their three horses grazed.
Unlike the grass in the yard, the pasture was brown and bone
dry. They had started adding hay to the horses' diets
because they weren't getting enough nutrition from the dying
grass. Hay cost money, especially in the dry years.

"Think it'll rain?" Sara asked him.

"Let's just say that if that thing goes by without dumping
something other than a buttload of lightning, I'll be ready
to hire WhiteEagle to do that rain dance after all."

Sara grimaced at the thought of hiring the town drunk, a
former Lakota medicine man who had been kicked out of the
tribe several years ago after raping the twelve-year-old
daughter of a local white rancher. He was always trying to
convince everyone he still had the power to communicate with
the spirits. No one believed him, and he had simply become a
nuisance for both Ian and Charlie Yellow Hawk, the Tribal
Chief of Police. The two were constantly 'tossing' him back
and forth. Because he lived on the Rez, Ian claimed he was
Charlie's responsibility, but because he was no longer a
part of the tribe, and conducted most of his dealings OFF
the Rez, Charlie believed he was the Sheriff's problem. The
two bickering law-enforcement officers had long ago become
the best of friends, despite the ongoing 'argument'.

With a suddenness that still startled her, even after three
years on the prairie, the wind changed direction and
temperature. Without any warning, it was cold. The big
cloud, which looked almost black now, had finally caught up
to the sun. Without a second thought, Sara reached over and
picked up Marisa, then got up from her grassy seat. Ian also
stood.

"Let's go, you guys," he said, directing his words at Fox,
but talking to them all, even the dogs. Fox immediately
stuck his lower lip out in a pout. "That may work on your
mother, kiddo, but not me. Come on." He picked the boy up
and swung him onto his hip. With the little dogs following,
they headed into the house. 

After depositing Marisa in the playpen in the middle of the
living room, Sara started closing all the west windows. The
wind was picking up, gusts rattling the eaves of the house.
The roar it produced as it traveled through the leaves of
the old trees surrounding the house resembled that of a
freight train. Both Sara and Ian knew what the chill in the
wind meant: Hail.

While tornadoes where thought to be the most deadly aspect
of any storm, they weren't that common here in Western South
Dakota. But lightning and hail could be just as deadly, and
every resident of the Northern Plains knew this and did not
take that danger for granted. Sara, arms folded, walked to
the window above the kitchen sink, watching the storm move
in. She had learned to love these storms, but she still
feared them, as well. The winds could easily reach well over
70 MPH, and the lightning flashed constantly. The hail that
often fell sometimes reached the size of a softball, though
most often the chunks of ice were the size of marbles or
smaller. They could easily kill small animals if those
animals didn't find shelter. Grizz and Ricky, she knew,
would find safety under the roof of the front porch. Solomon
and Sassy, however...

"Ian, have you seen the cats?" She turned to look at her
husband, who had turned on the scanner and was listening to
the broadcast from the National Weather Service. The storm
almost upon them was indeed severe. Golf ball size hail had
been reported in Wall, 60 miles to the northwest.

"Sassy was sleeping in Fox's room, last I saw. I haven't
seen Solomon all day." Ian didn't share the same dislike for
cats that he did for small dogs; he had never really had
anything to do with them before they had adopted to two
older cats from the shelter in Rapid. Sassy was a
tortoiseshell Persian who loved to cuddle more than
anything. Solomon was a big tuxedo tom, whose attitude
matched Mulder's perfectly: He, too, loved to be
cuddled...but only when HE wanted to. His claws were used
frequently, but when Sara had once suggested getting him
declawed, Ian had been adamantly against it. Sara and
Solomon got along worse than Ian and Samson did.

A loud 'meow' sounded from the direction of the front of the
house. Sara entered the living room just in time to see a
big black and white shape jump up and attach itself to the
metal screen on the front door. "Solomon!" she shouted,
walking quickly for the door. The cat, knowing his front
feet were at risk of being swatted, jumped down. Sara opened
the door and he strolled in, tail high, as if he ruled the
house. Samson growled at him; he knew who the REAL king was.

The storm hit at about 4:45 in the afternoon. It lasted for
about 25 minutes before moving on farther southeast. It left
behind several wet leaves coating  the ground, which was
dotted with white drifts of pea-sized hail. The storm drains
still poured out gallons of water, though the rain had
stopped, and puddles of water lined the gardens. Two large
branches from a couple of the cottonwoods lay in the middle
of the yard. Just the typical aftermath from a typical
storm. It could have been much worse.

With thunder continuing to rumble in the distance, Scully
began to make dinner. Though Ian did his share of the
cooking, they both knew she was the better cook. Whenever
she cooked, he cleaned up afterwards, and vice versa.
Equality was something that was rarely argued in this
family. Ian had gone out to check the horses and to pull the
fallen branches up closer to the house. He would later cut
them down and add the pieces to the woodpile.

Sara was just getting biscuits in the oven when the phone
rang. She dreaded picking it up, knowing the only calls they
would get this late on a Sunday after a storm would be
either from the Sheriffs office or her clinic. Surprisingly,
it was from neither.

"Sara?" a familiar voice said when she answered. "It's
Charlie. Is Ian there?"

"Yeah. Hold on." She placed the receiver on the counter and
went to the sliding door that lead to the back porch. "Ian!"
she called out to her husband. "Charlie's on the phone."

With a furrowed brow, Ian entered the house and took up the
phone. "Hey! What's up?"

"Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I wanted to get to you
as soon as possible before the morning." The Lakota police
chief paused.

"Charlie?"

"Something weird is going on, Ian, and I need your help to
figure it out."

Ian sat down at the dinning room table, glancing through the
door to the living room, where both of his children played.
"Okay. I'm listening."

Charlie sighed. "It's a long story, but I better start at
the beginning. It's about an eagle."

"An eagle?" Ian felt his frown deepen.

"Yeah. This is how it started......"

************************************************************

"If people knew the true price of spirituality, there'd be
more atheists."

Episode 2x20-Humbug

*****

Ian repeated the whole story to his wife that night after
the kids had gone to sleep. 

The night was cool after the afternoon's storm, and the
couple sat on the back porch listening to the crickets chirp
away. More lightning was visible in the south, but the storm
was too far away to hear any thunder. Solomon lay on the
railing in front of them and Sassy lay in Sara's lap. All
four dogs were scattered around the area as well, enjoying
the coolness of the night.

"Boy, when God decides to end the drought, he really ends
it, doesn't he?" Sara's question was rhetorical, and Ian
knew she didn't expect an answer, but her voice breaking the
stillness of the night was all he needed to start talking.

"Charlie has been suspecting that someone in the area has
been catching eagles and selling them to people on the Rez.
He finally found out the other day that WhiteEagle has been
paying a couple of down-on-their-luck ranchers to catch them
for him. They are all going to Federal court next month."

Sara nodded her head. Eagles, like all bird of prey, were
protected by law. It was illegal to catch, kill or own any
raptors without a Federal permit; even owning a feather from
many of these birds was outlawed. Only certain Native
American tribes were allowed to own the feathers, which were
used in many ceremonies and were considered sacred. But even
Indians were not allowed to own the birds, or kill them
specifically for the feathers.

"Who's buying them?" she asked, knowing that whoever was
acquiring the birds from WhiteEagle was just as guilty as
the old Indian. 

"Kids, mostly. I guess it's the new fad on the Rez, owning
an eagle. Like owning a Pit Bull is to a kid in the
projects, I suppose." He stopped for a second when Solomon
jumped down from his perch and headed his way with a gleam
in his yellow eyes. He waited as the cat jumped into his lap
and demanded attention. He started to pet the cat as he
continued on. "Most of the birds have been accounted for,
twelve in all, and they've been taken to Reptile Gardens for
a health check." Reptile Gardens ran the closest rehab
center for wild birds. "Once they're cleared of any injury
or sickness, they'll be re-released."

Sara waited a while for him to continue, and when he didn't
she asked, "And?"

"And something weird happened yesterday," Ian continued.
"Alicia Chase called Charlie and asked him to make sure all
the birds were kept in custody until further notice." Alicia
Chase was one three F.B.I. agents assigned to Rapid City.
The Zweifel's tried to have as little contact with her or
her fellow agents as possible. "It appears a couple of
'officials' from Washington are flying down tomorrow to look
at the birds."

Sara's brow furrowed. "Why? Officials from what office?"

"Alicia didn't say. But Charlie, who was helping unload the
birds at the Gardens, noticed something very odd."

Again, Sara waited through one of his dramatic pauses,
finally nudging him instead of saying anything when he
didn't continue.

"He said that one of the eagles acts different. It's an
older female. She seems set off from the others, distant.
And when she saw Charlie, she flew over to him as if she
wanted to talk to him. She didn't act wild at all. It's like
she was asking him for help." Solomon took a swipe at Ian
when the cat felt like he wasn't getting the man's full
attention. Without hesitation, Ian shoved the cat off his
lap. With a sniff, the tom walked off, his tail in the air.
"Charlie is almost positive these 'officials' are coming for
this particular eagle."

"What makes him think that?" Sara asked.

"Well, the government issue leg band was one clue. When they
caught her up to examine her, they got a close look at it.
It read 'FMRC-1992'."

Sara's breath caught in her throat. "FMRC? Fort Marlene
Research Center?"

Ian nodded. "That's my guess."

"Does Charlie know what that stands for?"

Ian shook his head. "No. He just recognized the style of the
band. Federal."

Sara sighed. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm driving out to Rapid with Charlie tomorrow to take a
look at this bird. If she did indeed come from there, we
can't let these 'officials' get a hold of her."

Sara felt a wave of sadness rise up inside of her. "I can't
believe I'm going to say this, but can't you just stay out
of it? One of these days, Chase is going to recognize you.
And what if one of these officials is someone we used to
know?"

She looked over at her husband, her plea echoing in the
night air. He turned his eyes on her. Even in the dark, she
recognized the look he gave her. It was one she hadn't seen
in years. And while she realized she had missed it, she had
also hoped to never see it again.

"You can't, can you?" she whispered. "You could never turn
down a good X File."

************************************************************

"Open yourself up to extreme possibilities only when they're
the truth."

Episode1x12-Beyond the Sea

*****

Wambli was becoming extremely worried.

For two weeks now, she had been a captive. While that was
worrisome enough, she had managed to keep her cool and wait
patiently for a chance to escape. Then the cops had shown
up, along with several tribal members who had taken her to
the city at the base of Paha Sapa along with several others
of her kind. She had been forcefully examined by the workers
of the facility, but she had been treated well. She had been
released into a large flight cage with the others and fed
fresh rabbit. Slightly underweight from her experience, she
was still in better shape than many of the others.
Apparently, the young man who had acquired her from the old
man, WhiteEagle, had at least known what to feed her.

She had been content to wait out what she believed to be
temporary captivity, although she had made a small attempt
to communicate with the Indian cop. He looked trustworthy.
Maybe she could make him understand her. She thought she had
gotten her message across when one of the women who worked
at the Rehab Center asked him about the 'officials' coming
to see the eagles. Wambli had become worried then. 

She spent a tiresome night pacing the ground of the
enclosure, which, though large enough for a couple of
full-grown eagles, was tiny when filled with twelve of them.
She looked for a weak spot in the wall all night; someplace
she could squeeze her large body through. There was no way
out. Morning came. Breakfast, too. But she wasn't hungry and
sat perched in a corner, watching the outside world through
the chicken wire and wooden slats that formed the cage.
Around 9 in the morning, the cop showed up with another man.
She eyed them both warily.

The cop was, at first glance, a typical Lakota. Tall, rangy,
his long black hair pulled into a tight braid that fell down
the center of his back. His eyes were onyx, and very
intelligent. His face was pockmarked, but still handsome. He
exhibited the wear and tear of growing up poor on an Indian
reservation while still maintaining the dignity and power of
his ancestors. He would have been a great warrior had he
lived two-hundred years ago.

The man next to him was just as tall, and almost as rangy,
but that was where the similarities ended. The other man
wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled
up to his elbows, and like his companion, he wore a badge.
Another cop then. She didn't know whether this was good or
bad. The man was a wasichu, a white man, and they were far
less open to extreme possibilities than the Lakota.

"Which one is it?" the wasichu asked.

The Indian looked around the enclosure. "I'm not sure. One
of the bigger ones. Maybe she'll come over again."

Wambli began to preen, ignoring them. She wasn't about to
give herself away with the wasichu present.

"Wambli. Yau' kta he?"

Her head shot up upon hearing the name she had given herself
years ago, but she immediately stilled as she remembered
what the word 'Wambli' meant in Lakota: Eagle. He was simply
addressing her in the respectful way of his people, asking
her to come over. She continued preening, keeping her eye on
the two men. 

They were standing with their heads close together, speaking
softly. She could hear their voices, but she didn't
understand the words clearly, despite her advanced hearing
ability. She heard the words 'catch up' and 'legband' and
she knew they were debating whether or not to have the
facility personal catch up the birds one by one to check
their leg bands. She knew they would have a hard time
convincing the Center staff to do this, as it was their
policy to have as little contact with the birds as possible
after the initial check up. 

The wasichu moved closer and began peering intently into the
cage, eyeing the birds carefully. When his green-gold gaze
landed on her, she stilled. Why did she get the sudden
feeling he would recognize her for what she really was? He
watched her carefully, then stepped back away from the wire.
Though his eyes never left her, he spoke to the man next to
him. "We can't let these people get hold of her." His voice
was low, but clear.

"Why? What do you know about this place?"

"Enough." The wasichu sighed. "Enough to know that if this
eagle truly did come from that facility, then she is
special. Different. Possibly genetically altered in some
way."

"How the hell do you know that?" The Indian shook his head.
"Never mind. Forget I asked. I always knew you were a
strange fellow with some kind of weird past, but maybe it's
best I don't know anything about it, huh?"

The wasichu smiled, and Wambli felt a human-like flutter in
her heart. "You got that right," he told his companion.

Without anymore thought, Wambli boosted herself off her
perch and hopped/flew over to a branch closer to the two
men. They looked startled for a second, then the Indian
whispered, "That's her."

The wasicu nodded. "I think I already knew that." He stepped
closer, his eyes wary. "What are you?" he asked. 

Wambli fluffed her feathers out in frustration. How could
she communicate with this man? How could she tell them what
she was? Maybe she should have kept to herself until they
let her go again. But the 'officials' were on their way, and
she could not...would not...go back to Maryland. She would
die first. But how did she tell these people that?

"Can you communicate with us?" the man asked.

The Indian mumbled, "I don't believe this."

"Hey. Your people are the ones who think eagles are sacred,"
the wasichu said with a grin. "All animals have their own 
way of communicating."

"Yeah, but you're talking to her like she was human," the
Indian argued.

Wasichu smiled and looked back at her. "Say something to 
her in Lakota, like you did earlier."

"Huh! I may be Lakota, but I don't speak it fluently!" 

"Something. Anything."

The Indian sighed. "Uh...Kola, ito' anagopta yeto'!" Now
listen for a minute, friend. "Uh...Lel uku'pi ki he
washte'." It is good for us to be here.

Wambli felt like smiling; his Lakota was mangled, but it was
understandable. How could she tell them she understood
English just as well. She shook her head, fluffing the gold
feathers there, then arched her neck downward, opened her
mouth and let out a low squeal. The wasichu moved up to 
stand close to her. 

"I think she can understand, she just can't respond in a way
we understand." He looked her directly in the eye. "Right?" 

Wambli opened her mouth again and cackled, nodding her head.

"Holy Mother of God," the Indian whispered.

The wasichu smiled. "I think I know who we can get to help
us."

"Who? Someone who speaks eagle?" The Indian was definitely
being sarcastic.

The wasichu turned toward him. "Yeah."

The Indian shook his head. "Man, you are spooky."

The wasichu's only response was to laugh.

*****

End 2/18

   Wambli-Part 3/18
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

"No matter how paranoid you are, you're not paranoid
enough."

Episode 5x01-Unusual Suspects

*****

Reptile Gardens/Black Hills Raptor Rehabilitation Center
Rapid City, South Dakota

Sheriff Ian Zweifel was standing in one of the back offices
of the Reptile Gardens with his cell phone pressed tightly
to his ear when Alicia Chase walked in. Of moderate height
and slender build, the blonde didn't look like an F.B.I.
agent, but he knew she was a good one. She had also only
been in the Bureau for three years, therefore she had no
reason to recognize him or his wife. She gave him a curious
glance, then proceeded to talk with Charlie, who was waiting
by the door.

"Lincoln Medical Clinic," a voice spoke in his ear. "This is
Carrie speaking. How may I help you?" 

"Hey, Carrie. Is Sara there?"

"Yeah, Sheriff. Hold on."

He stood and waited as the Musac played over the phone. The
Medical Clinic was moderately large considering it was
located in such a small town, but it served many ranchers in
the area, as well as many people from the reservation. Dr.
Al Rosenberg started the clinic years ago with his wife and
fellow doctor Michelle. They ran the General Practice side
of the clinic while Sara handled most of the pediatrics. She
loved the older couple and she loved her job. It was what
she should have been doing years ago instead of following
him to hell and back over and over again.

The Musac disappeared and her voice came over the line.
"Hi." It was obvious by the happiness in her voice that
Carrie had told her who was on the line.

"Hey, Babe," he responded softly. He never would have
guessed an endearment such as 'babe' would ever be in his
vocabulary, but he spoke it without thinking these days.

"What's going on? Did you find your eagle?"

"Yeah," he responded. "And she is definitely unique. It's
like she wants to communicate, but can't." He kept his voice
low so Chase wouldn't hear him. "I was wondering if Moira
would have any luck."

Sara was silent for a while. Moira Anderson was an old
friend of theirs from Spokane, Washington, who had the
special ability to transfer her consciousness into that of
animals, thinking what they think, feeling what they feel.
Ian hoped she would be able to communicate with Marlene, the
name he had given the eagle in his mind.

"I don't know, Ian. If this bird has a sentient mind like a
human, Moira might not be able to touch it. She still can't
enter human minds without becoming overwhelmed."

"It's worth a shot, isn't it? Come on, Scu-" he stopped
himself before he forgot who he was talking to and where.
"Sara. She's probably in need of a vacation, anyway."

Though Moira had been one of the mourners at 'their' funeral
five years ago, Sara had made contact with her a few months
later when she and Ian had returned to the U.S. after
toodling around the Pacific Islands. One of the few people
Sara trusted absolutely, the young horse trainer had kept
regular, but careful, touch since then.

Ian heard the familiar sigh of resignation from his wife,
the one that made him feel victorious and guilty at the same
time. "Okay. I'll call her, see if she can come down."

"Thanks," Ian told her. "Look, Chase is here right now.
Maybe I can find out when these 'officials' are supposed to
get here."

"What if it's soon?"

He sighed. "Then we'll have to think of something to keep
Marlene here."

"Marlene?" Sara's voice was dry. 

He knew he didn't have to explain. With a laugh, he said
goodbye, waited for her amused farewell, and hung up. Then
he turned to Charlie and Special Agent Chase.

"Sheriff," she nodded to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Ian said smoothly, "some of these eagles were
recovered in my county, and most of them were captured
there. Now, I know this is a Federal case, but I feel I
should have some say in the matter."

"Some say?" She raised her eyebrows. "Meaning?"

"I heard some government types were heading out here to look
at them...at one in particular. What is that all about?"

Chase's cool demeanor cracked a bit. "I'm not sure exactly.
From what I understand, one of the eagles we recovered was
used in a research program, to test insecticides or
something like that. I guess she got away and they're afraid
she may cause some kind of problem. I got the idea that she
was a livestock killer and they didn't want her on the range
anymore."

Ian nodded. "Hmmm. And Game, Fish and Parks can't handle
her? They have to send someone from D.C. to take care of
it?"

Chase shrugged. "Hey. I'm just following orders here."

Ian met her light brown eyes with his own. "Some orders
should be questioned, Agent Chase. If you don't know that by
now, you'll never become a top agent. You'll be stuck out
here in the boonies forever."

Chase opened her mouth, about to argue, when Charlie
interrupted. "When are these people coming?"

With one last glare at Ian, Alicia turned to Charlie. "They
said they'd be here early this evening."

Ian let his eyes meet Charlie's over the top of Alicia's
head. He knew Charlie was thinking the same thing he was;
they could not let the people coming tonight have that bird.
Charlie didn't know why. And Ian knew he would have to
explain it to him. But not yet. Right now, they needed to
get her out of here.

Hiding a smirk, Ian left the office. He was about to commit
a crime, a federal offense. He was about to steal an eagle.

************************************************************

"Exactly what agency are you guys from? (Silence) Obviously
not the office of information!"

Episode 5x18-The Pine Bluff Variant

*****

Lincoln, South Dakota
Downtown

It was after 6 o'clock when Sara was finally able to leave
the clinic. The last one to go, she locked up the door
behind her and headed for her car, which was parked a short
way down the street. As she walked, she noticed all the cars
parked in front of the Sheriff's office, which was only
three blocks away. All three county vehicles, as well as
Charlie's pickup and several other cars sat in the angled
parking spaces in front of the building. Curiosity and
concern warred in her heart as she passed her own car and
continued down the street. She could pick up the kids at
Susan's later.

As she walked into the building, she passed Tricia, the
county dispatcher/secretary/mother hen, who was on her way
out; the office officially closed at six. The tall,
dark-haired woman rolled her eyes at Sara as she slipped by
her. She seemed anxious to leave. With trepidation, Sara
continued on past the dispatcher's station and toward the
door to Ian's office. She could hear the arguing coming from
inside long before she neared the room. Carefully, she
walked up to the open door.

Alicia Chase and Nick Remington, both local F.B.I. agents,
were arguing with Charlie. Two other official looking men
stood off to the side, quietly watching the by-play between
the agents and the Indian cop. Ian sat at his desk, feet up,
and amused expression on his face, munching on sunflower
seeds. He smiled when he saw her in the doorway. She glanced
at the suited men in the corner, and looked back at her
husband, a question in her eyes. He nodded his head ever so
slightly, but his smile dissapeared. His unspoken 'okay'
allowed her to relax somewhat, and she entered the room. All
talk halted.

"What is going on?!" she demanded, her eyes searching the
room. Charlie she knew well, and Chase she had met a couple
of times. But Remington she had only seen from a distance.
She felt a chill move up her spine as the older agent's eyes
narrowed at her entrance. Did he recognize her? She took a
deep breath and looked at Ian. "Would you like to explain
who these people are?" She gestured toward the stoic men in
the corner.

With a sigh of his own, Ian introduced her. "Gentlemen, this
is my wife, Dr. Sara Zweifel. Sara, these men are with the
Department of Agriculture. Agents Cronin and Breker." He
nodded to the F.B.I. agents. "I believe you've met Agent
Chase. Her companion is Special Agent Nick Remington."

"Do you always stick your nose into your husband's business,
Dr. Zweifel?" Remington asked.

Sara was stunned by his rude question...but only for a
moment. "Only on nights we had plans to meet for dinner and
I find several people in his office fighting," she coolly
replied. She felt a presence behind her and turned to find
Lucas LittleElk and Sam Lang, Ian's deputies, entering the
office.

"Sara," Lucas nodded toward her. "We heard the arguing too,
sir," he directed his attention toward Ian. "Is everything
okay?"

"Oh, everything is fine." Ian still gave the appearance of a
man at ease, but Sara knew her husband too well; he was as
tense as a bowstring. He looked at her. "You know those
eagles that we recovered?" She nodded. "One of them was
stolen earlier today." He smiled slightly. "Ironically, it
was the one these men came here to collect." He nodded
toward Cronin and Breker.

Sara felt her eyebrows shoot up. 'Oh, Mulder,' she thought
to herself. "Any idea who took it?" she asked carefully.

Remington answered for her husband. "We have reason to
believe it was a couple of kids from the Rez."

Sara looked at him, meeting his eyes though she was still
nervous about his presence. "And you're yelling at Charlie
because...what? He's from the Rez, too?"

"Sara..." Even Charlie recognized the venom in her voice
and tried to step in to avoid anymore arguing.

"No, Charlie. I'm talking to Agent Remington." She continued
to hold the man's gaze steadily. "Well?"

The agent sighed. "We think that Chief Yellow Hawk may know
how it happened. After all, both he and your husband were at
the facility where the eagles were being held most of the
day. The bird was taken in broad daylight during the middle
of a moderately busy tourist day on the grounds of a popular
zoo."

Ian interrupted. "The birds are kept far from any of the
exhibits and shows, Agent Remington. It wouldn't have been
difficult for anyone who knew the place to slip in when all
the shows and most of the people were on the other side of
the grounds. Even the bird staff isn't always around; they
have to take care of the exhibits and such." He paused. "And
Agent Chase can confirm that both myself and Charlie were in
the office most of the day."

Alicia nodded. "They were. And he's right. Anyone could have
slipped in and taken the bird without being seen. The only
question I have is how did they manage to catch that
particular bird without a ruckus? They were all wild birds."

"This particular bird used to be in captivity, though," Ian
argued. He looked at the Ag officials. "Isn't that so? For
all we know she'd been trained to the glove and came
willingly."

One of the men, Cronin, Sara thought, spoke up. "Even if
that was the case, how would these kids have known that
particular bird was the tame one?" His dark eyes roamed the
room. Ag Department official, my ass, Sara thought. "Unless
someone told them. Someone who knew." His gaze landed on
Ian.

The sheriff just shrugged. "I don't pretend to know anything
about Golden Eagles or any other kind of bird outside of
what I learned from the Bird Department staff this morning."
He suddenly pulled his feet off the desk and stood. "Now, if
you'll all excuse me, gentlemen, Alicia. I'd like to have
dinner with my wife as planned. If you'd like to press
charges on a couple of Indian boys...or Charlie...or
me...you can wait until tomorrow."

Sara stepped aside as everyone in the office began to slowly
move outward. The Ag agents were grumbling amongst
themselves. Remington looked PO'd. Chase looked worried. The
deputies and Charlie looked triumphant. Sara knew they would
all follow Ian to hell and back if he asked them to, and any
victory, however small, over the Federal Government was
something to be savored. Leaving Lucas at the dispatch desk,
they all vacated the building and went their separate ways.

Ian watched them for a moment, then grasped Sara's arm
lightly and led her down the street. "Let's walk," he said.
Lincoln was small enough that walking from one end of town
to the next was barely any effort at all. They headed toward
Susan Norton's house, where Fox and Marisa went to daycare
during the weekdays.

They walked silently for a while. Sara was the first to
break that silence. "How well do you know Remington?"

"He doesn't recognize us, if that's what you're worried
about. If he had, he would have done something by now." Ian
brought his arm up to lay it over her shoulders. Public
displays of affection had become more numerous for every
year they were married.

"Is Moira coming?" he asked after another silence.

"Tomorrow. She was pretty excited and agreed with your
opinion of her needing a vacation."

Ian smiled. "Good."

"Of course," Sara continued. "I don't know how she can help
if the eagle she was supposed to communicate with is gone."
There was a tiny bit of question in her statement.

When he didn't reply, she looked at him. "Mulder," she said,
her voice hard.

"Shhh!" He looked around them and squeezed her shoulders.
"Billy Moran used to work at Reptile Gardens. I called him
up and he and a friend of his agreed to help us."

"Billy Moran?" She shook her head. "And they think it was a
kid from the Reservation?"

"They think it's Caleb Running Bull. He was the one who
bought Marlene from WhiteEagle. The poor kid's gonna be
upset at being accused, but I know he has a good alibi, so
they shouldn't be able to make anything stick. Not to
mention the fact that he doesn't have the eagle."

"You realize you just committed a federal crime, don't you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Sara couldn't help smiling. "Now what?"

"Now we wait for Moira and find out what Marlene has to
say."

************************************************************

"The government knows about it, you know. They're in on it
sometimes, right there in the room when they come. They work
together."

Episode 2x05-Duane Barry

*****

Highway 44 West
Heading into Rapid City

Nick Remington's jaw, which had been clenched for the last
three hours, was finally starting to relax as he and Chase
neared Rapid. His headache, he was sure, would go on for a
while yet. He loosened his sweaty grip on the steering wheel
and glanced at the woman next to him. 

Alicia sat staring out the passenger side window at the
barren plains around them. Having grown up in Chicago, he
knew she hadn't been too thrilled to be assigned to such a
small city. It hadn't helped that she had first arrived
during the winter. She was used to the cold, but not the
desolation. And the lack of serious crime. Most of their
cases consisted of assaults, rapes, and the occasional
murder on the Indian reservations in Western South Dakota.
The rare bank robbery popped up on occasion, and white
collar crime was becoming more prevalent in Rapid, but it
was pretty boring overall. He loved it here. But he had been
born in Eastern Wyoming, and the people and the land were
similar.

Now this had happened. A stolen eagle. That in itself wasn't
a big deal, but the fact that D.C. had sent other agents
bugged him. He didn't trust the so-called Ag agents. And he
didn't trust Sheriff Zweifel. He never had. Something was
going on with the 'officials' and that eagle, and Remington
was certain both Zweifel and Yellow Hawk knew something
about it. It didn't mater that they seemed to be at odds.
What bothered him was being kept out of the loop in his
territory. 

What did the Agricultural Department want with an eagle? Why
that particular eagle? Why were a Indian police chief and a
small town sheriff concerned with the matter? And why did
that sheriff's wife look familiar?

He had seen Sara Zweifel from a distance a couple of times
before, but he had never seen her up close or heard her
speak. But the minute she had stormed into the office today,
he had felt a tug of recognition. He could not for the life
of him recall where he knew her from.

"So what do you think is up with that eagle?"

Alicia's voice startled him out of his contemplation. He
shrugged. "Hell, I don't care about the eagle. I just know
something fishy is going on and Zweifel is somehow behind
it."

"What makes you think that?"

"Come on, Chase. He's the only one who is not supposed to be
involved, yet he's up to his neck in whatever is going on."

Alicia didn't argue. "But what would a small town sheriff
have to do with government tests on an eagle?"

"Maybe he's an animal rights activist?" Remington was
positive this wasn't the case, but he knew they had to
consider ever aspect. "Maybe when he heard where that bird
came from and where it was going to, he flipped."

Alicia let out an inelegant snort. "This guy lives side by
side with cattle ranchers. Half of his 'buddies' hunt and
fish. I bet he eats his steak rare." She looked over at him.
"If he's an activist, I'll eat my brand new leather jacket."

Remington couldn't help but smile. God, he loved this woman.
Too bad she'd never know. "Obviously, your not an activist,
either, Miss Leather Jacket."

Alicia didn't respond right away. "I heard one of the girls
at the Gardens say that they thought the eagle that was
stolen was smarter than normal. That the Indian cop was
trying to talk to it."

Remington's eyebrows shot up dramatically. "I know the
Lakota consider the eagle sacred, but I've never seen them
try to talk directly to one." He shook his head. "What a
mess. I've got a friend in D.C. who might be able to help
us. She and her partner have been complaining that things
are a little slow in their department. Maybe they'll want to
come out here and poke around."

"Yeah. We are so busy, it's not like we can work on this
ourselves!" The sarcasm in Alicia's voice was unmistakable.

He laughed. "Zweifel's not gonna talk to us. He knows us. If
we can put some outside pressure on them, maybe it'll help."
He paused. "Besides, smart, talking eagles are right up her
ally."

"Why? What department does she work for?"

"You've probably never heard of it. It's been around for
years, but isn't as infamous as it once was." He sighed and
let his gaze fall on the dark shape of the Black Hills
slowly growing bigger in the distance. "It's called the X
Files."

*****

End 3/18

Wambli-Part 4/18
Summary and Disclaimers in Part 1

*****

"Ooh, walk on the wild side."

Episode 5x20-The End

*****

Wambli was waiting. 

About an hour after the two cops had left her, two young men
had appeared. One had been carrying a long, leather glove
that came to his elbow and several pieces of leather that
Wambli recognized. He had slipped the glove on his left arm,
entered the flight cage, and held it out like a perch.
Wambli had watched him with amusement at first, but then she
had heard what the man was saying to his companion, who
waited outside.

"The Sheriff said that he thought she might be trained. If
not, we'll have to catch her up."

"Which one is she?" the other one asked. 

"I'm not sure. I was hoping that she would see the glove and
connect it with food and just come over." He had paused,
then whispered to himself, "this is crazy." In a louder
voice, he spoke toward the eagles, all who had become
nervous at his entrance. "Come on, girl. We want to get you
out of here and safe." He didn't speak as if he thought one
of the birds would understand; he simply spoke in a manner
that animal handlers have for ages, with a calm voice and a
steady manner.

Wambli realized that the sheriff he had spoken of must have
been the wasichu, and that these men wanted to help her.

The man outside the cage had begun to shift his weight back
and forth on his feet, nervously mumbling to himself. "Come
on, Billy! Before someone shows up!"

The man called Billy had sighed and looked to put his arm
down. Taking a giant leap of faith, Wambli had hopped down
from her perch in the corner and landed lightly on the
glove. Billy's eyes had widened almost comically, but he
wasn't afraid. With careful movements, he had snapped two
leather straps around her ankles, and attached those straps
to a longer rope. These temporary anklets would keep her
from flying off as he carried her out. She had worn more
permanent ones years ago. Slowly, Billy had taken her out of
the cage and walked with her to a van that had been backed
up behind the building holding the parrots and other show
birds. They had tied her inside on a perch, and driven away.

Now, two days later, Wambli was starting to get frustrated.
The temporary anklets had been removed and exchanged with
more permanent ones. Attached to these soft leather binders
were removable jesses, straps of leather that fit into the
grommet of the anklets and allowed her to move about freely,
though she was kept tied on a long leash to a comfortable
perch. She had been fed and had a pan of water to soak in if
she so desired, but she was still a captive.

She knew with a little work she could untie herself and fly
off, worrying about removing the anklets later, but she was
waiting for the wasicu. Why he hadn't appeared yet, she did
not know. 

That evening, he finally appeared. Only, he wasn't alone.

The Indian cop was with him again, as were two women. Both
were small, especially seen next to the two tall men. The
younger one was a bit taller, around 5'5", her long blonde
hair flowing down her back. The shorter one also wore her
long hair down, but it was a fiery red in color. They both
kept back as the men approached her.

"Hello, Marlene," Wasichu said with a smile. At first, 
Wambli had no idea who he was talking to. But as he 
continued to stare at her, as if he expected a response, 
the meaning of the name 'Marlene' became clear. She 
shook her head and stiffened the muscles that caused 
her head feathers to rise, giving herself the appearance 
of a much larger head. With her mouth open, she cackled. 
It was as close as she could come to a laugh.

The blonde girl came forward then, and both Wasichu and the
cop stood back. Wambli let her feathers flatten as she made
eye contact with the young woman. The woman didn't speak,
and after a while, she closed her eyes.

Wambli felt confusion fill her for a moment, then something
else indescribable grabbed her attention. She felt it come
upon her slowly, the feeling of not being alone. A sense of
wonderment and fear combined to make her nervous, but she
sat still, watching the woman as she fell into a trance.
With sudden clarity, she realized the woman was in her mind.
At first, Wambli tried to fight against her, feeling as if
her head was being invaded in the worst of ways. But she
felt more than heard the woman speak to her in her head,
comforting her, telling her there was nothing to fear. With
a deep breath, Wambli opened her mind and allowed the witch
woman inside.

************************************************************

"Her name is Bambi?"

"Both of her parents were naturalists."

Pause. "Her name is Bambi?"

Episode 3x12-War of the Copraphages

*****

"It was absolutely incredible!" Moira gushed later that
evening. She had come back to the house with Ian and Sara
after meeting with Wambli, and she could not stop talking
about it. "It was like being in the mind of an eagle, but
she thinks like a human!"

"How, exactly?" Sara pressed. Though her friend hadn't
stopped speaking of the experience, she hadn't given them
much detail, either.

"It's hard to explain," Moira said. "She 'spoke' more in
shapes and visions, like other birds, but they made more
sense. It's like...well. In a normal bird, and in most
animals, I just feel what they feel and see what they see.
But in the smarter animals, I can actually view memories.
Like in some dogs, and parrots, or in the dolphins at Sea
World. They think more like us than other animals,
therefore, they remember details better. But it's like
viewing a slide show without any description of the pictures
I'm seeing; I don't know where or when the images happened.
With Wambli, I get almost a running commentary on what I'm
seeing. I can hear her, and yet I hear no words." She shook
her head. "I can't explain it! It's something you have to
experience to understand, I guess."

Ian nodded. He was sitting on the sofa next to Charlie, who
sat with an astounded look on his face. Moira sat across
from them in the rocking chair, and Sara walked the floor,
trying to get the overactive Marisa to slow down for bed.
Like her brother, who sat on the floor playing with his toy
airplanes, Marisa was feeling the high that Moira's
excitement had brought into the house. Sara was afraid that
it would be a long while before either of the children were
ready for sleep.

"What did you find out?" Ian asked quietly, his voice
holding the same undercurrent of excitement Moira's had. 

"This Fort Marlene you mentioned?" Ian nodded. "She was
there for almost 10 years, but she wasn't born there. From
what I could gather, she was captured here in South Dakota
when she was barely a year old, along with several other
raptors. They all died during the experiments; she was the
only one to survive."

"Experiments?" Charlie spoke up.

Moira nodded. "They were doing some kind of genetic tests on
her and the others. Introducing some kind of DNA. It made
them smarter." She smiled. "Kind of like in 'The Secret of
Nihm'. You know that movie? The one with the rats and mice
that got smart?" She recieved blank looks from both men.
"Anyway, she got away almost ten years ago, and she came
back here. Unfortunately, the band on her leg is metal, so
she couldn't get it off. She also has an implant of some
sort, but it doesn't work anymore. If it did, they would
have found her by now."

Sara looked at her husband, who had turned to her upon
mention of the implant. She had one as well, and they both
knew that is was possible someone could find her by using
it. But, they had been promised by CGB Spender himself that
that would never happen. Ian leaned forward and looked at
Moira closely. "Does she want us to help her in any way? Or
does she just want us to let her go?"

Moira sighed. "She thinks that they'll manage to find her
anyway, even if we let her go. They know where she is now,
and that she's still alive. They'll start catching every
wild eagle they can in order to find her." She shrugged.
"But I don't think she thinks we can help her in any way."

Sara felt Ian's gaze on her again, but she wouldn't look up
to meet it. She heard him sigh. "When we go back tomorrow,
tell her we will try our best to help her."

"How?" Sara thought her voice sounded far too rough in her
ears. She still wouldn't look at him.

"We go in. Get as much information as we can. Then make a
deal." Like we did with our own lives. Sara heard the
unspoken sentence as clearly as she had the spoken words. 

She finally met his eyes with his own. "We?" 

She watched as his breath caught. She saw his eyes widen in
understanding. She stood still as his let his gaze fall to
the child in her arms, then over to the boy playing noisily
on the floor. Then his beautiful green gaze rose to meet
hers again. "We. Me and Charlie. Right, Charlie?" He turned
to the man next to him.

"Huh?" Charlie looked stunned. He had listened to Moira's
story, and he had also noticed the exchange between his two
friends. "Yeah. Sure."

With a sigh, Sara turned away. "I'm going to put Marisa to
bed." 

As she headed up the stairs, her heart heavy, she heard
Charlie demand of Ian, "You got some explaining to do, man!"
She smiled slightly, but the smile didn't last long. 

For five years, she had been living in heaven. But despite
the wonderful life she lived, there had always been an
underlying fear. Fear of discovery. Fear of losing what she
loved most dearly. Fear that her soul mate and best friend
would leave, not content with this sedate,
happily-ever-after life. And now it was happening. Adventure
was indeed calling him. But it wasn't calling her.

Once again, Fox Mulder was ditching her. Only this time, it
was with her blessing.

************************************************************

"Scully, I've been thinking - I know that's dangerous, but
just bear with me."

Episode 4x11-El Mundo Gira

*****

It was almost midnight before Charlie finally left the house
for his own home. Moira had taken a tiring Fox upstairs to
his mother well over an hour ago, then had come back down to
settle in the office, where they kept a hide-a-way bed, for
the night. Now, Ian set about locking up and checking that
all was well.

He wandered about the house, his eyes roaming the familiar
furniture and appliances. He looked at the little dogs, who
lay in their bed watching him with curious eyes, and the
cats, one who slept on the couch, the other perched on the
mantle of the fireplace. Without thought, he walked over and
started to stroke Solomon, who lay amidst the pictures on
display. His eyes scanned the framed images. Pictures of the
kids from the time they were born to the present; pictures
of himself and his wife, including one taken on Starbuck
Island almost five years ago at their wedding. A small
picture of Scully's mom and an even smaller one of his
sister Samantha. Their old life intermixed with their new.

With a sigh, he turned away and headed for the stairs.
Tomorrow, he would be leaving this haven of peace and
happiness. He was willingly heading into the unknown once
again. He felt anticipation and a hint of fear flow through
his blood. He loved his home, no doubt about it. And he
loved his family more than anything; but something inside
told him he needed to do this. He needed to help this
special creature who called herself 'Wambli'. He only hoped
his wife understood this.

Her response this evening hadn't been a surprise; she never
wanted to go back to the life they had lead before becoming
Ian and Sara. And she would do anything to keep her children
safe. But, it had still be somewhat of a shock when she
reminded him in her oh-so subtle way that she was not
participating in this adventure. His first thought had been
'how in the hell can I do this without her?' He trusted
Charlie, and knew he could get the Indian to help. But he
knew he would miss her presence the entire time.

He peeked in on both his kids, who were sleeping finally,
then entered his own room. She was still awake. She was
standing in front of the dresser mirror brushing her long
hair. She had on one of her night-shirts (all which had
started their life as one of his tee-shirts), and a pair of
socks, which made her look exceedingly cute. She seemed
thoughtful, off in her own world, as she brushed.

"Scully."

She jumped at his voice and turned to him, her expression
looking as startled as he felt. Her name, that name. It had
been years since he had used it in such a definitive way, as
if he was talking to his partner, not his wife. Her blue
eyes widened as she realized what it meant. He was no longer
Ian Zweifel. He was Fox Mulder.

She sighed and turned back to her brushing. He moved behind
her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Did you tell Charlie
everything?" she asked.

"Not everything."

Her eyes questioned him, but she didn't say anything and
continued brushing.

"I didn't tell him who you really were. No one needs to know
that."

She stopped and turned to face him, her mouth open in a
little 'oh' of surprise. "Mulder," she whispered.

He reached over and took the brush from her hands, setting
it on the dresser. Then he grasped her shoulders. "This is
your life now. No one needs to know any different."

She lowered her eyes and he could tell she was fighting back
tears. Though she had softened in recent years, it was still
rare to see her cry. "It's your life, too," she said softly. 

"What do you want me to do?" he questioned, squeezing her
shoulders gently. "Do you really want me to ignore what's
going on? Do you want me to just hand over this eagle to
those monsters? Because that's what they are, and we both
know it!"

"Mulder..." She stopped, unable to go on.

"What?! Come on! Yell at me! Tell me you hate me for doing
this! Tell me not to ever come back!"

She started laughing, but tears streamed down her face. "Is
that what you want?! To never come back?"

He pulled himself away from her. "Of course not!" he yelled.
"I just..." He sighed. "I love...Ian loves it here.
But..."

"But you're not Ian," she finished for him. 

He turned to face her, his eyes haunted. "It's like I just
woke up from a wonderful dream. And now I have to go back to
work."

She nodded. "Do you think you'll ever want to come back to
bed and dream some more?"

He moved back over to her and wrapped his arms around her
small form. "Without a doubt." Neither of them mentioned the
hope that he would be able to return. That he would be alive
to return. "They'll never even know it's me," he whispered.
"And I'll be back in no time."

She nodded again, but didn't say anything for a while. "I do
understand, you know. It's like an addiction. An addiction
to adrenaline."

"You are a stronger addiction," he said. "I'll always find
my way back to you."

She lifted her head off his chest and smiled at him.
"Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise you'll not do this alone."

"Charlie-"

"Charlie doesn't know what he's in for, I'm sure. No matter
what you told him. Get the Gunmen to help, too. And Skinner
if you can."

"Do you have such little faith in my abilities?" His
expression was stern, but his voice was teasing.

She shook her head. "Are you kidding? Without me there to
watch your back, you're gonna need all the help you can
get."

He laughed, then lowered his head and took her lips with
his. No more words were spoken as he lead her to the bed.
Their bed. And one more night together.

When Marisa's fussing woke her in the morning, he was gone. 
 
************************************************************

"Why don't you file them under 'u' for unsolved?"

"I did...until I ran out of room."

Episode 5x15-Travelers

*****

Two miles northwest of Lincoln, SD

The rental car cruised along the highway at about 80, though
the speed limit was only 65. The woman at the wheel didn't
care if she got pulled over by the local sheriff, since that
very man was who she was here to see anyway. But the sooner
they got to Lincoln to see him and back home to the city,
the better. 

"How anyone can live out here..." She sighed. "Crazy. All
it is is wind and grass and in the winter wind and snow.
Ick."

"I don't know," her companion responded. "I kind of like
it."

Cat O'Neil looked at her partner in astonishment. He just
grinned at her, his blue eyes flashing. "Well that figures,"
she said. "We already know you're crazy. So I guess you
belong."

"Hey!" Justin Monroe was completely unaffected by her
censure; he just liked to pretend otherwise. After five
years of working together, the two of them knew each other
better than they knew themselves. "I resent that! Do you
know what these old ranchers would do to a guy like me?"

Cat couldn't help but smile. "I just don't know why Nick is
so certain there is something mysterious going on out here."

Monroe grunted in response and continued to read the file in
his lap. After a minute of quiet, he asked, "So, is Agent
Remington single?"

Cat bit the inside of  her cheek to keep from smiling again.
"Yes. He is. He's also straight, so keep you wandering eye
to yourself."

"He is, huh? And just how do you know this?"

For a moment, she was speechless. "Not because of what
you're thinking! He was my first partner after I got out of
the Academy, just before I was put on the X Files and he
came out here. He's like a second father to me."

"Father? Good god, Cat. He's not that old, is he?"

Instead of answering, she nodded her head toward the town
coming into view ahead of them. "There it is. Lincoln. Not
much to it."

They quickly found the Sheriff's station, which wasn't hard
seeing as it was located on Main Street, and parked in front
of the building. They went into the box-shaped, red brick
building, enjoying the cool air that was being pumped out of
the little air conditioner in the front window. A woman sat
behind the front desk, efficiently typing away on a
computer.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Cat pulled out her badge. "Hello. I'm Special Agent
Catherine O'Neil with the FBI." She nodded to Monroe. "This
is Special Agent Justin Monroe. We're here to see Sheriff
Zweifel. Is he in?"

"No, I'm sorry," the woman said with a frown. "He's out of
town on business." She glanced over to her left where an
Indian man was emerging from an office. "Deputy LittleElk is
in charge in his absence."

"Can I help you?" Cat was a tall woman, and rarely wore
heels because of this fact. But even in the low pumps she
was wearing today, this man towered over her. 

"Uh, well..." What the heck was wrong with her? Why
couldn't she think of something to say?

"We really need to speak to the Sheriff specifically,"
Justin said, moving to stand at her side. He had to look up,
too. But he wasn't nearly as intimidated as she was. Or was
it intimidation she was feeling? "Do you know how we might
get a hold of him?"

The deputy and the woman exchanged glances, then turned back
to face the agents. "He's away on private business. We don't
know how to reach him."

Cat found her tongue. "At all? Isn't that kind of odd?"

"Well..." The deputy looked at the woman again. "Sara?"

The woman shrugged.

Suddenly, the door behind them swung open and a little ball
of energy with dark hair flew through it and ran right into
Justin, falling smack onto his behind. "Whoa, partner!"
Justin reached down to set the little boy to rights. A tall,
dark haired woman came rushing in behind him, a baby girl in
her arms.

"Will you please slow down?" She sighed when she saw the boy
was okay. "I'm sorry, Tricia. We were out for a walk and he
wanted to see his father. He didn't believe me when I told
him Ian wasn't here."  She smiled at Cat and Justin.

The deputy went over to the little boy and squatted down to
his level. "Hey, Fox." Cat gave Justin a sharp look. "You're
dad's not here, remember? He's on a trip."

The little boy stuck out his full lower lip and whined,
"When's he comin' home?" Cat was startled by the boys
appearance. His hazel eyes, more green than brown, were very
familiar.
 
The deputy shrugged. "I don't know, cowboy. He just left
yesterday. Probably not for a while. Which means you're the
man of the house, now. Right?"

The little boy sniffed, wiped his nose, then nodded. "I
guess." 

"Your name is Fox?" Cat asked the little boy. "That's a neat
name. Kind of unusual, isn't it?" She directed her question
at the adults.

"Not around here," smiled the receptionist. "We're right
next to an Indian reservation, after all." She looked at the
little boy. "Maybe you and your sister and Susan can walk
down to your mom's clinic and say 'hi' to her." 

The other woman, Susan, Cat guessed, bit her lip. "Sara's
not at the clinic. She took the afternoon off to go
horseback riding with her friend from Washington. She was
going to pick the kids up around 5."

"Sara?" Justin asked Susan. "Is that the sheriff's wife?" He
gave her his best boyish smile.

Susan was entranced. "Yes, she is."

"Is there any way we can talk to her?"

A little warily, the deputy nodded at Susan, who proceeded
to tell Justin how to get to the Zweifel's residence. As the
agents started to leave the building, Cat turned back to the
baby-sitter, nodding at the girl in her arms. "Her name
wouldn't happen to be 'Samantha', would it?"

"No," the woman shook her head. "It's Marisa. Why?"

"Just checking." Cat turned and walked out the door.

With one last smile to Susan, Justin followed.

*****

End 4/18

Wambli-Part 5/18
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

"Don't you ever want to stop? Get out of the damn car?
Settle down and live something approaching a normal life?"

"This *is* a normal life."

Episode 6x04-Dreamland

*****

Outside Lincoln, SD

The sun was hot, but the wind coming from the north was
moderately cool, keeping the ride pleasant...if you liked
wind. 

Wind was the only thing Sara hated about living on the
prairie. It was a constant presence, and not a very polite
one. In the summer, it could be hot, cool or stormy. In the
winter, it was frigid, threatening any bare skin with
frostbite. Only the Chinook winds that blew down off the
Black Hills in the winter were welcome. These amazing winds
could change the temperature from 10 degrees to 50 in less
than an hour, and they brought a great deal of warm, spring
like days to the area, even in February. But Sara could
easily do without wind. Especially today.

It made a persistent noise here in the grasslands, blowing
through the grasses and few trees, as well as any man made
objects in its path, never silent. And it gave the
appearance of movement from every direction. This in
particular bothered her.

Ever since Mulder had left the night before last, she had
been on edge. Looking over her shoulder, never relaxing
while in public, checking the locks three, sometimes four
times every night. Moira was still staying with her, and the
woman's presence helped. But Moira was leaving to go back to
Spokane tomorrow.

Sara knew it was silly to be so paranoid when she had lived
in this community for so long. Even if her true identity got
out, she was sure most of the people would still look on her
as a friend and keep her secret if she asked. But she still
felt uncomfortable. The last thing she wanted was to involve
her children or newfound friends in the horrors she and
Mulder had lived with for years.

They had escaped years ago with the help of three men; three
men they had never believed they could trust: CGB Spender,
Alex Krycek and the British gentleman only known as The
Well-Manicured Man. Their deaths had been faked, their
funeral had been held, and running on pure disbelief and
hope, they had assumed their new names, married, and set out
to start a new life. Coming to South Dakota four years ago,
just after Fox's birth, had been like coming home. Lincoln
was the perfect town; isolated, but not too far from a
larger city, and not likely to attract too many strangers.
The people were friendly and the environment, though harsh,
was beautiful. For the first time in her life, Sara had
everything she had ever wanted.

This afternoon, she and Moira had taken Poker and Feisty out
for a 'stroll'. Moira trained horses for a living, but still
appreciated a relaxing trail ride on a quiet horse. Poker,
Mulder's Quarter Horse gelding, was very quiet. A retired
roping horse, the big buckskin was unfazed by almost
anything; he had even allowed a screaming Marisa on his back
at one time, reacting with nothing more than a twitch of his
ears. Sara's mare, Feisty, lived up to her name, but was
also a wonderful trail horse. The little grey Arabian mare
suited Sara perfectly. PeeWee, the chestnut Shetland pony
who lived with the bigger horses, was slowly teaching Fox
the basics in horsemanship. Though Mulder could almost
straddle the pony without ever taking his feet off the
ground, little PeeWee was just the right size for the little
boy. He was incredibly smart (as most Shetlands are), but he
had been trained right from the start and was not spoiled.
They were lucky to have him.

They rode quietly side by side in the grassy ditch alongside
the rode. Sara had taken Moira to a hill that overlooked the
area. The Black Hills to the west, the Badlands to the
north, the Bad River Reservation border just two miles to
the south. Moira was used to wide open spaces, but not this
wide, and was duly impressed. They didn't talk about Mulder
or about Wambli, who was still safe in hiding with Billy.
They didn't talk much at all.

As they neared the Zweifel's gravel driveway, a car turned
into it and headed down toward the house ahead of them.

"Looks like you have visitors." Moira's word were meant to
be a statement, but Sara heard the question in them.

"I don't recognize the car," she responded. Then she sighed.
"I hope it's not Remington and Chase."

"Have you talked to them since Mul-, I mean Ian, left?"

Sara shook her head. "No. Which is strange. I was sure
Remington was going to pursue this thing."

They guided their mounts up onto the gravel and headed for
home. Sara could hear PeeWee squealing in the distance; he
hated being left behind. Poker answered him, giving a high,
trumpet-like nicker. They walked up the slight hill that
looked down onto their house and saw that the car had parked
behind Sara's Cavalier, but no one had gotten out. Grizz and
Ricky were making sure of it.

Though Sara knew the dogs would never really hurt anyone
(although, she had an inkling Grizz might if he felt his
family was threatened), she also knew that whoever was in
the car did not know this. "Grizz! Ricky! Come!" Both dogs
immediately turned away from the car and loped up the hill
to meet her. Two people stepped out of the vehicle, which
Sara could see now was a rental, and faced them. 

The two people on horseback recognized the two people on the
ground first.

"Oh, shit!" Moira hissed. She looked at Sara. "Should we
run?" The question was half serious, half teasing. 

Sara answered in kind. "To where?"

With another sigh, she moved forward to meet the two people
that awaited her, only a little surprised to see their
stunned faces when they recognized her. So, they weren't
here to see her; they hadn't know she was here. That left
only one other reason for their visit. 

Wambli had officially become an X File.

************************************************************

"That's why we like you, Mulder. Your ideas are weirder than
ours!"

Episode 1x16-E.B.E.

*****

1630 Texas Street
Washington DC

It was just starting to get dark in the city when Mulder and
Charlie arrived at their first stop, but it was still muggy
and sweltering. Charlie hadn't stopped complaining about
everything: the plane ride (he hated to fly), the traffic in
the city, the humidity. Mulder was too wired about the
possible future that he didn't really hear the complaints.
Charlie knew this and didn't seem too upset by it; he was
just talking to ease his own nervousness about the whole
bazaar situation.

They made their way to the apartment via the back door of
the building, walked up three flights of stairs, and came to
number 33. Mulder had never been here before as the
occupants of the apartment had just moved in several months
ago, but he knocked on the door with confidence, knowing
what to expect...mostly. Only two men lived here now; the
third had moved out to live with his girlfriend a few blocks
away. He cringed at the thought of what Frohike's girlfriend
looked like. 

"Yes?" Byers' familiar voice came over the speaker built
into the wall next to the door. Mulder glanced up at the
video camera that peeked out from above the same door.

"Byers, if you don't know who this is by now, your camera
must be broken. In which case, you guys are slacking." Next
to him, Charlie also looked up, his eyes widening when he
recognized the camera.

As they heard the dozen or so locks being disengaged from
inside the apartment, Charlie turned to his companion. "Who
the heck are these guys?" he mumbled.

"Friends. Oddball friends, but friends."

"I heard that," Byers said as he threw open the door.
"Mulder! I don't believe it! I never thought you'd ever set
foot in this town again." The bearded man stepped away from
the door, allowing both Mulder and Charlie to enter, then
moved in to take Mulder's hand and shake it in welcome.

Mulder smiled and nodded toward Charlie as Byers closed the
door behind him. "Charlie, this is John Byers. Byers, this
is Charlie Yellow Hawk, Police Chief of the Bad River Indian
Reservation." As the two men shook hands, Mulder looked
around the front room of the apartment. Strangely enough, it
looked like a normal apartment, except for the top notch
computer equipment sitting at various locations around the
room. "Where's Langly?"

"He and Frohike are shopping."

Mulder swung his head around to stare at Byers in
astonishment. "Shopping?!"

Byers smiled. "It's Katie's birthday next week, and Langly's
out helping him find something for her." He shrugged. I
thought it best to just avoid any association with the
event; that way, if they get something really ridiculous, I
won't get blamed!"

Mulder laughed. "I really have to meet this Katie. Any woman
who can get those two to go shopping must be special."

"Oh, she's special, all right. We all love her. Just not
like Frohike does."

Mulder shook his head in disbelief. "Where wonders never
cease..."

There was silence in the room for a moment, then Byers asked
the inevitable question. "Where's Scully?"

Mulder glanced at Charlie, who looked at him with eyebrows
raised. He debated with himself for a few seconds, then
said, "She stayed at home." He saw the curious look in
Charlie's eyes, but no surprise. Smart man that he was, he
had probably already figured out that Sara also had a secret
past.

A loud pounding on the door caused all three men to jump.
Byers walked over to it, looked at the monitor sitting on
the table next to it, and opened it; he hadn't yet locked it
up again after letting Mulder and Charlie in. Langly and
Frohike stumbled in, laughing over some joke. They stopped
short when they saw Mulder.

Frohike reacted first. "Mulder!" He rushed over and gave the
taller man a huge bear hug. Fortunately, Mulder had expected
this, and he laughingly returned it. After the little man
backed away, Langly moved closer. The two old friends
clasped hands in greeting.

"Langly!" Mulder exclaimed. "What happened to your hair?"

The blonde man smiled. "I got rid of the ponytail a couple
of years ago, Mulder. It just looked too ridiculous what
with the fact that I'm losing everything up top!"

"He just wanted to look like Skinner," Frohike said. "He's
hoping Cat will someday see how much they look alike, and
start eyeing him the way she eyeballs the Skinman."

Mulder's eyebrows shot up. "Cat and Skinner?" He looked 
at Byers. He knew Byers and Cat had broken up, but 
had not heard this new piece of news.

Byers blushed and shrugged. "Well, possibly. If they 
are, they are very discreet about it."

Mulder shook his head again, hoping Cat knew what she was
doing. Getting involved with your superior was dangerous.
And nerve wracking, according to his wife. When he had
pressed her on how she knew that, she had admitted that she
and Skinner had gone out a couple of times several years
ago. It had been during the time that the X-Files had been
closed and he hadn't really been their boss, but it had
still been a bit frightening. She had had to spend the rest
of the night convincing him that nothing more that a few
drinks and food had been shared between them on their nights
out; she had been in love with Mulder at the time, and
Skinner had known it.

Mulder introduced Charlie to the other men, then answered
Frohike's question about Scully's whereabouts. 

"How're the kids?" the little man asked next. 

Mulder felt a goofy smile take over his face. "Fine. They're
great. I wish you guys could see them."

All three of the Gunmen had copies of his goofy grin on
their faces. "Someday, Mulder," Byers said. "Someday."

"That's the magic word, isn't it?" Mulder said with a soft
laugh.

"So," Langly started. "What brings you out of wedded bliss
and into the lion's den?"

"Ft. Marlene," Mulder said without preamble.

The three men looked at each other warily. "What about it?"
Langly asked.

"Is it still open?"

Byers shrugged. "I think some parts still are."

"I need to get in there and find some files, on tests that
were done years ago. And if these files aren't there, I need
to know where they are. Are you guys up for it?"

With matching smiles, the three men made their way to the
computers that sat on the other side of the room. "Just tell
us what you need, Mulder!" Frohike's gleeful reply echoed
back to Mulder.

And so the search began.

************************************************************

"The truth is an elephant described by three blind men..."

Episode 2x09-Firewalker

*****

Zweifel Residence
Lincoln, SD

"Moira," Sara said as she dismounted from Feisty. "Would you
take the horses to the barn and unsaddle them please?" She
pulled her mare's reins down off her neck and handed them to
Moira, who was still on Poker.

"Sure," Moira muttered. Then she turned the gelding and rode
off, leading the little mare behind her.

Both O'Neil and Justin stood there, their stunned
expressions mirroring each others. With a sigh, Sara spoke
first. 

"What can I do for you, Agents?"

They looked at each other, then O'Neil stepped forward.
"That's it? That's all you're going to say?"  Her expression
turned dark. "What can I do for you?" She let out a
frustrated laugh. "Jesus! This is just fucking wonderful! I
suppose 'Sheriff Zweifel' is your former partner, huh? My
former partner?" Her voice was steadily rising, threatening
to become a full-blown shout. Then Justin reached over and
placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Cat," he whispered. 

With another laugh and a whispered curse, she turned away.

Justin watched her for a moment, then faced Sara. "You're
Sara Zweifel?"

Sara nodded. "For the past five years."

He shook his head in disbelief, but a smile was spreading
across his face. O'Neil, who had heard Sara's answer,
snorted. "How?" Justin continued. "I don't understand. Is
the sheriff Mulder?"

She nodded. "It's a long story, Justin."

"Yeah!" O'Neil said, turning toward them again. "I'll bet."
Her voice was still hard. "Where's Mulder?"

"He's not here," Sara said softly. "He's away on business."
She sighed. "I assume you're here because of Wambli."

"Who?" Justin asked.

"The eagle. The stolen, magical eagle who's wanted by the
government." Sara couldn't help but put a little sarcastic
edge to her own voice. "Remington sent you, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," O'Neil answered. "Why didn't he tell me it
was you?" she asked. "He knows who you are."

Sara smiled. "I thought he recognized me. I suppose he
couldn't remember where or when. I don't recall ever meeting
him before."

"He worked in Baltimore around the time you started with the
X-Files," O'Neil said, her voice suddenly subdued. Her mind,
that brilliant mind that had worked so well with Mulder's,
was busy. Her gaze had turned inward. Suddenly, she looked
at Sara with wide eyes. "The children. We saw them at the
Sheriff's office. How?"

With a sad smile, Sara whispered, "That's a long story,
too."

"I think we have time," Justin said. "You're right. We're
here about that eagle and Remington did ask us to come. But
I think we have more important things to discuss. Don't
you?"

Sara sighed and looked at the gravel beneath her feet.

"Scully?"

"It's Sara," she corrected him. "Please remember that." She
looked up. "No one here knows the truth. Except Moira." She
nodded in the direction her friend had gone with the horses. 

"Who else does know?" Justin asked.

"Skinner. My mother. The Gunmen. A friend from here, Charlie
Yellow Hawk, was just told most of it the other day." She
sighed again. "Moira. And now you." She folded her arms
across her chest in a defensive posture, only realizing
after she had done it that O'Neil was standing the same way.

"Walter knew?" O'Neil asked. "He knew you were both alive?
Damn him!" Her voice had risen again.

"You can't be mad at him," Sara said, wondering about
O'Neil's use of Skinner's first name. "He was under an oath
not to tell anyone."

"Yeah, but..." O'Neil's expression turned to confusion.
"I..."

"Cat took Mulder's 'death' hard, Sc- Sara," Justin
explained. "And she and Skinner have become close. He should
have known what it would mean to her to know the truth."

"It would have put our lives at risk," Sara said. "Your
being here now puts our lives at risk, as well as the lives
of our children."

"Children," O'Neil said, glad for the change of subject.
"Back to them. How? I thought you were barren? That little
boy was definitely Mulder's. Did you...?"

"No," Sara smiled, knowing what O'Neil was hinting at.
"They're mine, too. That story involves the Gunmen."

"The Lone Gunmen helped you and Mulder have kids?" Justin
asked, his face incredulous. 

"Well, it was more Frohike, but the others knew he was up to
something and got themselves involved, too."

Both agents stood there staring at her. 

She couldn't help but laugh. "Come inside. I'll tell you all
I can."

*****

End 5/18

Wambli-Part 6/18
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

"...find yourself a man with a spotless genetic make-up and
a really high tolerance for being second-guessed, and start
pumping out the little Uber-Scullies."

Episode 4x03-Home

*****

Moira joined O'Neil and Justin in Sara's kitchen, where Sara
was busy filling glasses with water. As she set them on the
table in front of the agents, she told them, "It's well
water, so it might not have a taste that will appeal to you.
If not, I have some bottled water in the fridge."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Justin said, taking a sip of the
cool, clear liquid. She watched as his eyes scanned the
room, noticing the old fashioned cupboards and the new oven.
Then he looked her up and down. "You look great."

"Thanks," Sara said. "I feel great." She laughed to herself.
"That's what the prairie does, it either drives you crazy,
or makes you sane."

"Which did it do to Mulder?" O'Neil asked.

"Well, seeing as he was already kind of crazy, what do you
think?"

"He's happy here?" O'Neil had the grace to look embarrassed
when she realized how astonished she had sounded.

"Yes. He was."

"Was?" Justin picked up the word instantly.

Sara sighed. "This eagle thing has him energized. He thinks
he can help her."

"Why? What is so special about it?" 

"She's smart. I mean, human smart." Sara looked at Moira.
"She and Moira can communicate telepathically. The people
that made her the way she is are looking for her. They want
her back. Ian...I mean Mulder...thinks he can help her."

"How?" O'Neil asked.

Sara shook her head. "I can't tell you that. I want Mulder
to come home to me, and though I trust you both, I don't
want you involved."

"What if he needs help?" O'Neil continued. 

"He's got help."

"The Gunmen?" Justin asked. "We could always go to them for
information."

"Do you actually think they'll tell you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" Justin smiled. "Langly and Byers 
would do anything for Cat."

Sara looked at O'Neil, who was blushing. "Really? Even
though they've kept our secret for more than five years?" 
She looked back at Justin.

"Okay, okay. Maybe you're right." He sighed. "But you can
trust us."

"It's not that I don't trust you, Justin. Although, I really
have no reason to, seeing as I haven't spoken to you for
five years. I just don't want anyone involved that doesn't
need to be. It's bad enough you know we're both still
alive!"

Justin bit his lower lip and shook his head. "You said your
mother knows?"

Sara nodded. "She's even seen pictures of her grandchildren,
though she keeps them in a safe deposit box. As you pointed
out, Fox looks just like his dad."

"But Bill doesn't know?"

Bill and Justin had been friends years ago, though that
friendship had weakened after Bill discovered Justin's
homosexuality. When he had been transferred from San Diego
to Spokane to work under Scully, Bill had made him promise
to look out for his sister. Both had mourned greatly at her
'funeral'.

"No, Bill doesn't need to know." Scully leaned back in her
chair. "He would be none to happy to know who I married
while I was pretending to be dead!"

"You really are married, then?" O'Neil asked.

"Yes."

"And the children?"

Another sigh. "Years ago, Mulder found and recovered some of
my ova. They had been taken from me during my abduction
several years earlier. He left them in safe-keeping with the
Gunmen. I managed to get Frohike to tell me about them, even
though Mulder thought he was keeping a great secret from me.
When he decided to tell me, he found out I already knew. By
that time, we were lovers, so it was a safe bet that if I
ever wanted to use them, Mulder would be the father." Her
shoulders moved slightly. "After we were married and came
back to the U.S., we contacted Frohike. The others found
out. They helped us find a doctor in Arizona, and Fox was,
incredibly, conceived on our first attempt." She looked up
and smiled. "Marisa took about three tries. That was only a
little more than a year ago, after Mulder was voted in as
sheriff."

"Wow," O'Neil breathed. "Any plans for more?"

"Maybe." Sara sniffed in amusement. "God knows I'm not
getting any younger." Her expression turned sad. "But, all
will depend on how things go for Mulder. For all I know, he
may not want to come home."

Moira spoke for the first time. "Fat chance, Sara! He'll be
back. And this time, it will be for good!"

They all sat silent for a while. Then Justin stood. 

"Well, Cat. Looks like this case is turning out to be
nothing but a wild goose chase. Or should I say a wild eagle
chase? I say we go home. There is nothing here for us to
do." O'Neil stood as well. "Mrs. Zweifel. We are sorry to
bother you. We'll be leaving." He and O'Neil moved toward
the door. "But if you, or your husband, need anything, you
know were to find us."

"Justin," Sara said sharply as she stood. She moved over to
where he had stopped in the kitchen door. Standing on her
tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you." She
stepped back and looked at O'Neil. "Thank you."

The F.B.I. agents left the Zweifel home and headed back to
Rapid, wondering what they should tell Remington and Chase.

************************************************************

"Pick out something black and sexy and prepare to do some
funky poaching."

Episode 4x15-Momento Mori

*****

The Lone Gunmen's Apartment

It took only a little more than three hours for Langly to
break through to the computer database for Ft. Marlene.
There were no files under 'Eagle' or 'Raptor', nor any that
could be considered 'bird oriented'. But the file called
'Nihm' grabbed Mulder's attention almost immediately. He
remembered back to Moira's mentioning the movie 'The Secret
of Nihm', and wondered if it was a connection or just
coincidence. 

Opening the file provided no answers; almost everything had
been deleted or was protected by a password the Gunmen
couldn't get past. It was nearly midnight when a frustrated
Mulder called home on Byers' cell phone.

"Hello?" He smiled when he heard her voice.

"Hey. It's me."

A relieved sigh could be heard from the other end. "Hi." Her
response sounded breathless and happy. "Where are you?"

"At the three stooges'. Actually, the two stooges now. The
third stooge has a place of his own."

"I remember you mentioning that. Is he there?"

Mulder turned to look at Frohike, who was also on a cell
phone. "Yeah. He's talking to his better half at the moment,
too."

"Wish I could meet her," Sara said. He heard the smile in
her voice. "I'll bet she's something."

"I'm not sure," Mulder responded. "I haven't met her yet."

They were silent for a moment, but it was a comfortable
silence. They were both simply content to be connected. Even
over the phone, it seemed they could read each others
thoughts. 

"Have you found anything, yet?" Sara's voice was soft, as if
she was trying to not break the peace that had settled over
them.

"No. We found a file I think might be the one I'm looking
for, but the guys can't access it." He glanced at Langly and
Byers, who were both leaning over the computer. Charlie sat
on the couch, his head back and eyes closed. But he wasn't
sleeping. "It's got a very tight password-protect, and they
think it may take a couple days to hack into it."

He heard her sympathetic "Mmmmm." She was silent for a
while, only the silence now seemed tense. 

"Is Moira still there?"

"Yes. She's heading back tomorrow morning, late. She's going
to visit Wambli one more time before she goes." Mulder was
positive he heard nervousness in her voice now. "Mulder..."

"What is it? What's wrong?" His voice held enough concern
that Charlie's eyes opened and looked over at him.

"I had a couple visitors earlier today."

"Who?" Mulder demanded. "Remington and Chase?"

"No. A couple of agents that were sent to interview you by
Remington and Chase." She paused. "From the X Files."

Mulder stood silent in shock. Byers and Langly were looking
at him now, as well. "Cat and Monroe?" he asked quietly.
"They were there?"

"Yes."

"They know what happened to us." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Sara answered anyway. "We can trust them to keep
quiet, I'm sure. But they're curious about this eagle thing.
I have a feeling they're going to head over to the Gunmen's
as soon as they get back to D.C."

"You're probably right." He eyed his friends, all who were
watching him with wide eyes. "They'll keep quiet if they
know what's good for them." His voice was teasing, but it
held a note of fear, too. "The last thing we need is
government involvement on this end."

"Which I guess means you haven't talked to Skinner?" Sara
asked.

"No. And I won't unless I have to."

Frohike had finally hung up on Katie, and was watching
Mulder with a furrowed brow, having had missed most of
Mulder's words to his wife. "Have to what?"

Langly and Byers shrugged.

"Hey, I gotta go. It's midnight here, and I didn't get much
sleep last night, or the night before for that matter." He
turned his back on his companions and talked softly now.
They also turned away, knowing the conversation was getting
personal, but he would bet they all had their ears cocked
his way.

"I remember," Sara sighed. "I wish you hadn't left without
waking me up first."

"I couldn't," Mulder explained. "You know I'm horrible at
good-byes." He had felt like a chicken leaving like he did,
but he had wanted to leave his home with good memories, not
tears. "I love you," he whispered.

There was silence for a moment. "Promise me you'll keep me
up to date? I'll sleep much better knowing you're still all
in one piece."

He laughed softly. "Hey! You know I'd call you even if I
wasn't."

She sniffed in response. "Goodnight. I love you."

"Kiss the kids for me?"

"Yep." It was her typically response when she was trying to
hold back tears. 

After a few seconds more of silence, she hung up. With a
sigh, he thumbed his phone off. When he turned around, it
was to find four pairs of eyes on him, intent and
questioning. "Well, boys. Our good friends from the X Files
may be knocking on your door soon. We need to know what to
do about it." When no one responded, he walked over to the
computer. "Would it be easier to get into this file from
inside the facility?"

"Well, yeah. I guess," Langly said. "You'd still need to
know the password, but it would be easier to get past that
on the main system."

"But how do we get in?" Byers asked. "I have a feeling their
security is top-notch."

Fohike cleared his throat behind them. "I think I know a
way."

************************************************************

"Who knows, Scully. This could turn out to be more
interesting than fox-fires."

Episode 2x24-Our Town

*****

Lincoln Medical Clinic

Sara sat at her desk and breathed a sigh of relief as she
slipped out of her low heels. It had been a long day
already, and it was only 1 P.M. in the afternoon. She had
been awakened at 3 this morning when Barb Lightfoot had
called her, terrified that her 3 month old little boy's
fever was getting too high. Sara had called her neighbor,
Kim, to come over an watch the kids, then had the young
mother meet her at the clinic. The baby had indeed been
burning up. A cooling bath and fluids had helped the baby,
and Sara's soft, calming words had helped the mother. When
Barb had finally taken the sleeping baby home, it had been
6, time to start the day. She had been seeing patients since
then, and was exhausted. She hadn't gone on so little sleep
since... well, since she had been Dana Scully. 

Thank God tomorrow was Friday.

Then again, she really had nothing to look forward to this
weekend. Moira had left for home today. And taking the
children into Rapid by herself was a chore. She supposed she
could try and catch up on some reading. She sighed and
laughed softly to herself. When was the last time she had
spent a weekend without Mulder? It had been a while. She
missed him, and he had only been gone three days.

Michelle Rosenberg stuck her head in the door. "Hey. Are you
busy?"

"No," Sara breathed. "Thank goodness."

Michelle laughed and entered the office. "I know what you
mean. Everyone seems to think, now that it's nearing Friday,
it's time to get looked at before the weekend hits and they
have to drive all the way to Rapid. Even if they've been
sick since Monday!" She sat down in one of the two chairs in
front of Sara's desk.

Sara smiled and nodded. The clinic was closed on weekends,
except for emergencies, and though there were a few other
doctors in the vicinity, the next reputable medical facility
was all the way in Rapid City, where several clinics and
hospitals were open.

"How is Barb's baby?"

"He's fine," Sara said. "I called and checked up on them
about an hour ago. He still has a slight temperature, but
she's checking him every hour."

"That's good," Michelle said. Then she folded her hands in
her lap and looked down at them silently. "How's Ian? Has he
called you?"

Sara hesitated. The people of McCloud county trusted their
sheriff, but most were a bit startled he and Charlie had
gone off so secretly. "He called last night. Wanted to let
me know he might be gone longer than expected."

"Oh? That's too bad. I bet you miss him." Michelle and Al
had been married for over 30 years now, and they were still
in each others back pockets. Sara envied them. They worked
together, they lived together. Yet, they were complete
individuals, always giving and never taking from each other.
She had thought only a short while ago she had that kind of
marriage, too.

"Yes," she nodded. "I do."

Michelle was silent again. She looked as if she was trying
to find the courage to ask something. Sara shivered in
anticipation.

"Michelle? What is it?"

Michelle sighed. "Lucas came by today, wanted to know if we
had any long term patients staying here. I told him no. We
haven't had any for a while now. He told me that when he had
driven by this morning, a man had been walking down the
sidewalk across the street, looking at the clinic. He saw
the same man, in a different place, twice more today.
Watching the clinic. He thought it might be the relative of
an out-of-town patient since he wasn't familiar."

Sara felt the chill that had started running down her back
grow into a full blown iceberg. "Is he still watching the
place?"

"I don't know. But after I told Lucas we had no patients
staying here, he wondered if it might have something to do
with those F.B.I. agents that were here yesterday."

Sara felt all the blood drain out of her face.

"Sara? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she whispered. But she knew she was far from it.

************************************************************

"Oh, man, did you come to the wrong place!"

Episode 5x19-Folie a Deux

*****

Sam Colter knew he had been made the third time he saw the
sheriff's deputy drive by, but he wasn't worried. His CIA
credentials could get him out of the worst trouble if need
be. And his find was far too important to leave just now. He
still couldn't believe his luck. 

Dana Scully. THE Dana Scully. And he hadn't even been
looking for her. He had thought, as everyone in his
acquaintance had, that she was dead. But she wasn't. She was
here. And if she was alive, then it was a good bet Fox
Mulder was, too.

Colter had only wanted to make sure O'Neil and Monroe found
out nothing about the eagle from Ft. Marlene; that was why
he had come to this one-horse-town in the middle of nowhere.
But he hadn't expected to find gold. Gold in the form of a
presumed-to-be-dead-but-obviously-not F.B.I. agent. He had
already called in his find to his superiors, but now he
wanted to know if this 'Sara Zweifel' knew the whereabouts
of her former partner. Colter hadn't seen him yet, but that
didn't necessarily mean anything.

He had seen the Indian deputy stop by the clinic around
lunch, and he was quite sure that the Scully woman knew he
was here. Colter thought this was a good thing; Paranoia
breeds fear, and fear breeds carelessness. He was positive
she knew where Mulder was, and he would keep his eye on her
until she lead him to the ex-F.B.I. agent. Then, they would
have them both.

*****

End 6/18