Hello-

	This is my first posting to the atxc group, a thirty-odd page
story called "Gwen".  Gwen is a character I've dreamed up- I hope
to keep following in future stories what becomes of her after fate
throws her in the way of Mulder and Scully.  Barring any unforseen
catastrophes, their paths will keep crossing and she'll weave her in
and out of the existing mythology. This is a "first season" story, i.e.
before the X-Files were closed.

	Before I go on, many thanks to Rob, Chantal and Tracy, for
their incredible support.  Without them, I'd never be able go
through with this.

	Characters are copyright Chris Carter and 10-13
Productions- except Gwen, who's all mine! This story has a "G"
rating, clean as it gets.  :(

	I'd love to hear comments, criticism, etc.- I'm at:
tahouston@gmgate.vircom.com.

-Tracey Houston.
=09

Gwen, part 1.

=09
	Dana Scully swept through the kitchen, expertly scooping
up her briefcase in one hand and draining the chalky remains of
her half-finished coffee into the sink with the other.  She left the
kitchen light on as she breezed into the hall - no telling how late
she was going to be tonight.  Pausing in front of the hallway mirror
to apply a final coat of lipstick to her full lips before going, she
heard a resounding knock at the door, interrupting the last coat of
Burnt Melon.
	The lipstick paused in mid smear - she hadn't buzzed
anyone up.  She capped the lipstick and glanced at her wristwatch:
time to get going.  Again, the knocking came, insistent,
hammering.  It had to be a neighbour.  Scully had the feeling she
was going to be late. She sighed.
	A neighbour at this hour would be odd.  She pressed
herself against the door, her hand resting on the reassuring metal
of the dead-bolt lock.
	"-Yes?" She managed to preempt another bout of
knocking.
	"Dr. Scully I have to talk to you."  The voice behind the
door was soft and breathlessly unpunctuated.  Scully had heard it
before but could not place it, a vague twinkling in the recesses of
her memory.  "Please let me in - it's urgent you're in grave danger -"
	Scully bit her lip.  He was not a neighbour.  The voice was
shaking and high - clearly he was upset about something. She
turned the lock, her other hand on the butt of her gun.  Slowly she
opened the door.
	The first thing she noticed about him was that he was
soaking wet with perspiration.  The acidy odor of sweat stung her
nostrils.  Then her eyes fell to the large lumpy vest - the kind
hunters and fishermen wore.  Its pockets and seams were straining
full.  Tiny wires wove in and out of the vest like a dizzy tapestry.
	For an instant Scully had the impression he was there to fix
something - some kind of handyman.  He smiled at her weakly
when she opened the door.
	A dribble of sweat ran into his eye and he flinched.
"Dr.Scully I am wearing enough explosives to kill us both and take
the building with us - Please let me in I have to have my say."


	Mulder briskly walked into the office, his shoulders
hunched and his back sore from another cramped night on the
sofa.  In classic fashion, he'd had trouble sleeping and then, when
he finally managed some shut-eye, he overslept his alarm. He
saved some time by not shaving and made it in fairly on-time.  He
half-expected to see Scully already there, but the office was empty
and smelt like dusty papers, no hint of Scully's light perfume.
	He turned the lights and the coffee machine on, and then
sat at his desk to peruse a new issue of the Swamp Gas Journal,
while the coffee maker dribbled noisily away.



	The man with the bomb stared Scully in the eyes.  Down
the hallway, a door clicked open and a woman came out of her
apartment.
	At the same moment that she looked up to see who else
was in the hall with her, a "good-morning" smile half-formed on her
face, the sweaty, soft spoken man generously waved an automatic
rifle vaguely in her direction.  She hit the floor as a spray of bullets
splattered across the corridor in an arc.  Like a frightened lizard she
scrambled across the carpeted hall back into her apartment.
	Jerkily violent, he reached into Scully's apartment and
grabbed at her head, winding an ample amount of her hair in his
fingers.  Deftly, he withdrew her gun from its holster and tossed it
back into her apartment.  With an abrupt yank, he forced her out
into the hallway in front of him, firing shots into the ceiling.  Plaster
rained down on them, smoking up the air.
	"Please stay inside your apartments I've got a bomb-"  He
made an effort to speak loudly over the gunfire.  "Stay inside please
- I will kill us all I have the tools and I will use them."  He was
startled momentarily from his rant when the telephone rang in
Scully's apartment.  Scully's head involuntarily turned towards her
door and he snapped her abruptly back.  Sounds of her answering
machine message drifted eerily out into the hall.  He fired a few
more rounds into the walls, his expression thoughtful, and then
dragged Scully back with him to her apartment where the
answering machine's red light blinked patiently.
	Once inside, he left the door to the hall open and, with
surprising gentleness, let go of her hair.  Scully straightened up,
brushing tears off of her cheeks and rubbing her head.  She was
surprised her scalp wasn't bleeding.  The sweating man leaned
toward her with a look of unexpected earnestness.
	"Do you believe me that the bomb is real?" He asked
softly, holding open the vest to reveal what looked like several
pounds of children's putty with wires worked in.  "The bomb is real -
I have the tools and I will use them."  Even through the reek of his
sweat soaked clothes, Scully could detect the slight plastique odor
that she had been trained to recognize.  Dumbly, she nodded.


	Mulder was absorbed in his magazine when the knock
came at the door.  He looked up.  It had to be Scully, but she
wouldn't knock unless she was carrying something.  He froze when
he heard the jingling of keys.  It was Scully.  Mulder sat down and
picked up his magazine.
	The door swung open.  Two agents stood there.
	"-Don't you answer the door?" one of them asked. 	=09
	"Can I help you?" Mulder asked, a twinge of sarcasm
playing on his mouth.
	"I'm Agent Bradley and this is Agent Stephens.  We'd like
to talk to Agent Scully.  Is she here?"
	Mulder stood up. "No." He began.  They didn't look
pleased.  They hadn't impressed him so far, but he could tell from
their faces that they meant business.  "-Is something wrong?"
	"-Are you Mulder?" Stephens did not acknowledge his
question.
	Mulder jabbed his finger at the security pass dangling from
his breast pocket with his name printed on it in big, bold letters.
	Bradley handed him a fax.  It was a long list of names.  "In
the last four days three of these people have been killed by an
unknown gunman.  Four more people have been injured.  He
seems to have some sort of game plan but we're not sure what he's
going on.  The last attack, Vermont, a retired Air Force major was
found shot.  We thought we had him, but he slipped through our
fingers.  He left a list behind.  We have reason to believe that the
people named on this list are his intended victims-"
	Mulder skimmed the fax, feeling his stomach clench up.
His eyes fell upon the familiar shape of Scully's name.  He looked
up.  "-Scully?"
	The agents shrugged. "We've been sent to protect her for
the time being.  As for why any of those people are on that list, well,
Agent Mulder, we thought you could formulate-"
	Mulder sat down with the fax.  "I get it.  While you're here
to protect Scully you want me to analyze this.  One stop shopping."
	The two agents nodded.  Bradley looked at his watch.  "-
What time is Agent Scully due in?"
	Mulder glanced at the clock.  It was 8:35 and he picked up
the telephone, dialling her number.  "She should have been here
about five minutes ago."  The agents glanced at one another.
	While it rang at Scully's end, Mulder looked at them.  "Did
you send someone over there?"
	Bradley nodded.  "Of course.  And, Agent Mulder, for all
we know that list is a decoy...."
	Scully's answering machine came on after a few more
rings.  Mulder gave up and turned back to them.  He didn't feel
well.  "-She's not there."
	Bradley shrugged.  "She's probably long since left for work.
Maybe she's caught in traffic."  Mulder nodded, the ache in his
stomach intensifying.
	"Maybe she was abducted by aliens."  Stephens
sniggered, pointing at the poster over his desk.  The pain in
Mulder's stomach did a backflip.  Not today, not after a lousy
night's sleep and no shave, not when Scully was unusually late for
work.  He stood up suddenly, his eyes steely-cold and brought his
face close to Stephens' smirking mug.
	"Listen,-"  He was interrupted by the electronic chirp of a
cell-phone.  Like a choreographed dance the three of them
reached for their cellulars.  It was Bradley's.  He stepped away.
Stephens turned back to Mulder, his smarmy grin widening.
	"You were about to say-?"
	"-Asshole."  He hissed under his breath.  Mulder grabbed
his arm just below the elbow and squeezed it tightly for a moment,
his eyes narrowing.  Stephens' smile cracked, a flicker of fear
flashing behind his eyes.  Mulder released his grip.  "Lay off."
	Bradley waved to them both.  "We're there."  He signed off
and looked at Mulder and Stephens.  They looked back. "-We've
found him."  Bradley said and was through the door.  Without
hesitation, Mulder and Stephens were out into the hall, running
after him.
	Mulder caught up with Bradley.  "-Where is he?"  He
panted, suddenly out of breath.
	As they ducked into the stairwell, Bradley wouldn't look at
him.  "-911 just got thirteen separate 10-67 calls about firearms
discharged at Agent Scully's building."  They pounded down the
stairwell. "-None of them were from her.  There've also been reports
of a bomb threat."
	Mulder wiped the sweat on his upper lip with the back of
his hand.  The three agents sounded like an army drumming down
the concrete stairs.  Bradley didn't miss a beat.
	"It looks like this could be our guy.  Agent Mulder, you are
aware that you do not have to accompany us on this assignment -if
you feel that for any reason-"
	Mulder cut him off.  "-I know.  I'm coming."
	Bradley nodded. "We don't even know if she's there, Agent
Mulder."


	Scully had regained some of her composure.  He had
pulled one of the chairs away from the dining table and set it in the
center of the room for her.  She sat very still, her hands on her lap.
"What are you doing this for?" she asked softly.
	"-Stinking FBI with their rockets and bombs - they don't
want to hear the what's really going on-"  the man with the bomb
grabbed Scully's wrists suddenly.  He pulled her close.  "-It's too
late now - I will kill us all if I can't make them listen - this time
they're going to hear me."  She slid around in his sweaty hands,
realizing that she too was perspiring.  He pulled out a roll of duct
tape from one of his myriad pockets and ripped a large piece of
with his teeth.  "I have to tie you-" he began, binding her hands
behind her back.  "Please don't be difficult."


	Fifteen minutes later, Mulder was peering cautiously out of
a fifth-story window at the apartment block across the way.   The
street was empty except for the S.W.A.T. team, and even they
skittered from one cover to another occasionally to avoid the
sniper's frighteningly accurate aim.  He scanned the building's
warm brick facade.   The call had come in: Scully was in there.=09
	He turned away, letting the black fabric fall back into place,
palms sweating.  Hadn't anyone come up with a cooler bulletproof
vest?
	The office had formerly been the copy room of a marketing
firm, but now it had been usurped by a convention of men wearing
bulletproof vests that matched Mulder's.  Wires crisscrossed the
floor, walkie-talkies lay all around, and all manner of  weaponry
scattered about gave the copy room the aura of a bunker.
	One of the men in vests, Special Agent Burton, came over
to Mulder.  He clapped a hand on his shoulder.
	"We've reached Gwen Gardiner and she's on her way
down."
	Mulder had no clue what he was talking about.  The other
agents, however, appeared to be thoroughly impressed.  A ripple of
quiet approval ran through them and they began speaking of her in
hushed, excited tones.
	"Gwen Gardiner?" Mulder finally asked.  His mind was on
Scully.  How was she holding up?
	"She's with the HRT - the best hostage negotiator this side
of anywhere."  Burton said sternly.
	Hostage Rescue Team.  Mulder nodded numbly.  He
hoped that was the case.  It had been too late for the others on the
list.  He wasn't getting his hopes up just yet.  He returned to the
window, moved the black cloth aside just a fraction and looked
outside again.  Why did this have to happen to Scully and not him?
	On the street below, a S.W.A.T. officer ducked from his
position behind a mailbox to a concrete pillar just a few feet away.
	Shots rang out, echoing between the concrete buildings.
A bullet neatly caught the leg of the officer, but he managed to pull
himself to safety, leaving a thin trail of blood.
	Instantly the walkie-talkies crackled to life and the men in
the vests, sweating already, jumped into action, bellowing
commands.  Mulder watched this all morosely.  He hated these
situations.  It reminded him of the high-school locker room - all the
bullying and shouting - the thick smell of sweaty nervousness - it
made him feel nauseous.  The energy in the room swelled to a
crescendo.
	"10-53!  Man down!"
	"Two shots fired - leg wound!"
	"Get him out of there!"
	"Hold your positions!"
	"Back off! Back off!"
	Mulder closed his eyes.  While he was wondering if Scully
secretly believed in telepathy, the room suddenly quieted.  He
snapped his eyes open.
	There, at the door, were four more agents in field dress.  In
their midst was a mousy haired brunette in a green skirt with a
knapsack.  She carried her bulletproof vest over her arm.
	"Hi, everybody," she said, cheerfully enough.  There was a
muted chorus of 'Hi Gwen'  from the men assembled, like a group
of children greeting their kindergarten teacher.
	In fact, thought Mulder, she looked like a teacher.  She
was plain, but there was certainly nothing wrong with her face.
What made her stand out was that her serene look of benignity
made her appear angelic.
	Smiling amicably, eyes darting about the room, assessing
- sizing things up, she said nothing for a moment.  The
assemblage waited for her to speak.
	"So what's up?" She asked in an easygoing west-coast
drawl. "They briefed me in the car."
	Burton spoke up.  "He's been holed up in there for a half
an hour with an agent of ours, an Agent Scully.  We have reason to
believe she's still alive.  He's sniping from a fifth-floor window.  So
far he's shot two people, one fatally."
	"That's pretty much what they told me," Gwen nodded.
"Okay.  What's this Scully's detail?"
	Burton looked over to Mulder, who straightened up from
his hunched position.  "She investigates paranormal occurrences.
She's also a medical doctor."
	Gwen smiled.  It was one of those great smiles that makes
you want to see it again almost immediately.  "-Well, that's handy .
. . "
	Mulder was starting to have a little hope.  Thank God the
FBI hadn't sent out the usual hard-assed negotiator for this one.
 	Burton pointed over to the covered window.  "-We've
blacked out all of the windows on this side to conceal our
movements and the S.W.A.T. team is holding the basic Tactical
Position around the perimeter. We've got our land lines up and
running so the phones are good."
	She smiled again, and Mulder felt the tightness in the
room loosen a little.  "Good.  So it's just the two of them in there?
The street's been evacuated?"
	Burton nodded and in a second she was animated,
pointing here and there, waving men away.
	"Great.  Okay, all of you - clear out, and take this junk with
you.  I need room.  Stay on the floor beneath.  I'll need a desk, a
pad of paper, a pen-"
	Burton handed her a headset.  "We brought this for you to
use."
	She examined it. "Are you tapped into it?"
	He grinned. "We have to monitor everything.  We'll be right
there with you every step of the way."
	"No thank-you."  It was promptly handed back. "-I don't
need you guys breathing down my neck."  She reached into the
knapsack she had brought with her and pulled out a cellular
phone.  When she saw Burton's dismayed expression, she took
the headset back from him.  "I'll keep yours for talking to you guys
and I'll use my phone to talk to Mr. Hostage-Taker.  Monitor me if
you must, but don't phone me with reviews every forty seconds, all
right?"  When he continued to look disappointed, she shrugged.  "-
They mess my hair, okay?  Now please get these guys out of here."
	Mulder watched her carefully, uncertain of her behavior. He
wasn't leaving, he had to be there for Scully.  When Mulder didn't
move, Gwen came over to him.  She extended her hand.  "I'm
Gwen Gardiner."
	He shook it.  "I'd like to stay.  I'm Fox Mulder, Scully's
partner."
	For a long moment, she said nothing, staring at him
levelly, placid amid the scraping and bumping of the agents
dragging their equipment hurriedly into the hall.
	"Are you two close?" she asked suddenly.
	Mulder felt his face get hot in the already hot room.  He
fought it down.  Gwen waited patiently.  He said nothing for a
moment, considering his options.  "-No, well, I mean, we're friends,
but if you mean-"  He felt like he couldn't get on top of what he
wanted to say.  His mind was cluttered with odds and ends of
details and information, a postmodernist paradise.  She grinned at
him.
	"I wasn't asking if you and Scully were in a relationship,
Agent Mulder, I just want to know if you two were close."  She
spoke quietly, under the noise of the agents decamping.  Mulder
heard her.  She patted his arm.  "Relax, Fox. The rest is none of
my business."
	Before he could reply she had turned and grabbed the arm
of Burton as he rushed by with equipment.  "Can you get me the
menus from some local restaurants and a few schedules of
departures from Dulles and National?"
	Burton whipped out a pad and wrote it down, not
commenting.  As he turned away to put her orders into place, she
tugged at his arm again, eyeing Mulder.
	"-And Agent Mulder can stay."
	Confused, but saying nothing, Burton nodded and hurried
off.
	From outside there was faint sound of sniper fire zinging off
the building.  Gwen looked over to Burton.  "-That's not your men,
is it?-"

	In a second, the window exploded into a million pieces,
and glass flew everywhere.  Instinctively, everyone threw
themselves to the ground, holding their breaths.  When Mulder
looked over to Gwen, she lay on the floor, lightly brushing glass
dust off of her skirt with a scrap of paper.
	"All right everyone. That's your cue to get downstairs."  She
said firmly.  Nobody moved.  "Thank you for all of your help.  I'll be
fine."  She said pointedly, getting to her feet.  Like dull zombies the
agents rose to their feet.  Slowly they shuffled out.  Mulder moved
toward the door, unsure if she wanted him there.  As he went by
her she caught his vest and held him back.  With her other hand
she guided Burton, about to protest, gently out after his men.
"Thank you so much for everything.  I'll call if I need you.  Thanks,
bye."
	She shut the door.  Mulder pointed to the bullet-proof vest
that she had left on the table.  Gwen's eyes followed his finger.
	"I don't mean to nag, but don't you think-?"  Mulder began.
She smiled at him and picked up her telephone.
	"It's too hot." She sat down. "I've got to call this guy right
away or he'll blow us to bits,"  she said, dialling.  Mulder backed off
and sat atop a stack of Xerox paper boxes.  The room seemed
huge without the tactical squad perspiring in it.
	Gwen tucked the phone under her chin and waited
patiently, staring vacantly out of the smashed in window at the
apartments across the street.  She stroked the bullet-proof vest
absent-mindedly.  Mulder stared at his hands.  He could make out
the sound of a ring pattern coming from the earpiece of Gwen's
cell-phone.
	"-Paranormal occurences, huh?" She said suddenly.
Mulder looked up, surprised.
	"Yeah."  He answered, having no idea what she was
getting at.  He hoped she wouldn't ask him to explain.  Not today.
He was too wiped.
	Gwen doodled aimlessly on a pad, the phone sandwiched
between her shoulder and her ear. "That must be interesting." she
said conversationally.
	"It is."  Mulder stopped himself from a longer reply.
	She continued doodling.  "Is that like ghosts and stuff?"
	Mulder nodded, feeling another long explanation coming
on.  "The unexplained.  Extreme possibilties-"
	She laughed very suddenly, causing him to jump.
Suddenly he felt angry at her lackadaisical manner.  What about
Scully?  They were losing time.
	"-What are we doing?"  he asked, an edge of tight
frustration in his voice.  She stared away.
	"We are waiting for somebody to answer the phone."
	Exhaling, Mulder felt suddenly despondent.  He stood up.
"-Is that all HRT does?  Wait for the phone to ring?  That's it, isn't
it?"
	Gwen put her pen down and looked at him, the phone still
cradled between her ear and shoulder.  She waited a moment
before speaking, and when she did, her voice was very quiet.  "I
am not with the HRT.  HRT are a bunch of tight-ass snipers who at
this very minute are looking to find the easiest way to take Mr.
Hostage-Taker out.  I disagree with this approach and I would love
to explain it to you, perhaps at some other time."

	Mulder's face went red.  He nodded.  "Okay.  Do your job.
I'm sorry."
	He sat back down.  She grinned warmly at him.  "Don't go
ballistic on me, Fox.  I don't need-"  Suddenly, she snapped to
attention.
	"-Hello?!"  She pointed excitedly to the telephone in her
hand, raising her eyebrows at Mulder.  "-Hello?  Is there anyone
there?"


	Scully sat perfectly still as the sweating man with the bomb
taped her hands behind her back.  He knelt before her and taped
her ankles to the legs of her own chair.  There was something
strangely comforting about being held hostage in her own
apartment.  The tape stuck to her nylon stockings and her ankles
slid around inside them.  She promised herself that she would write
a book about the whole thing if she ever got out alive.  He
straightened up, apparently done.
	"Who are you - I know you, don't I?" Scully asked softly.
He nodded, his eyes on the hallway outside her open door.  His
hands slid over his rifle.
	"Yes." He answered distantly.  He suddenly marched to the
door and aimlessly let loose with more shots into the hallway.  "-
Everybody please stay inside or I will kill you all!" he shouted,
framed in her doorway.  He returned to her. "Yes you know me."
	Scully tried to think.  Maybe someone in the building would
call 911.  Her mind was blank.  She stared at his vest.
	He leaned in close to her.  Her nose involuntarily wrinkled
as the smell waves of metallic sweat overcame her.  He frowned
and straightened up.  "I smell awful I know -  I can't help it."  He
went over to her window and drew the curtain across.  "Do you
remember Louis T. Bernard?"  He asked her.
	Scully blinked.  "-Yes-" She said suddenly. "We-we
interviewed you a year ago."
	At the time even Mulder had dismissed him as a harmless
crank.  He had had a good story; ufos had tried to contact him, the
government got involved, sightings increased and the government
had tried to silence him, somebody (the story had changed several
times in the telling,) had implanted something in his nose and the
aliens kept following him.  He had them both going for a while.
	Scully thought of  that infuriating poster Mulder had hung
over his desk.  Louis Bernard was an engaging storyteller and
Scully was drawn into his dilemma by the incredible amout of detail
he had supplied.  They had wasted a lot of tape on his ramblings.
	However gripping, his story did not hold up well to cross-
examination.  He had become flustered and defensive when they
had tried to double-check his claim and like a giant tumbleweed, in
each retelling, his story collected more facts and details, growing
into a huge universe-wide conspiracy.
	She did not remember exactly when Mulder had started to
become skeptical of Bernard's pose; she had begun having doubts
when he fervently insisted that the almost invisible scar on his nose
from a deviated septum operation was in actuality evidence of a
secret joint alien/US government operation to plant a high-powered
device in his nose.  Mulder's attitude changed somewhere between
his claim that he had obsessively built models of the Devil's Tower
in Utah and his divulging that he was writing a book on his ordeals.
	Scully had believed him to a point, but when his story
began to fall apart, she grilled him mercilessly.  From then on,
Mulder had sat in stony silence, staring blankly at Bernard,
seething with embarrassment on the inside.  The ramblings went
on and on.  Soon the entire universe had been implicated.
	Mulder had slammed down on the STOP button of the
tape recorder.  His digust was palpable.  Scully had leaned forward
and shaken Bernard's hand, while Mulder got up and paced the
room angrily.
	"Thank-you." she had begun,  standing up. "That is more
than enough information for us to go on."
	Bernard looked between the two of them, his eyes wide. "-
But that's just the beginning - I have so much more-"
	"-We'll wait for your book."  Mulder snapped with brittle
sarcasm.  However it had been intended, Bernard had taken it the
wrong way. He rose to his feet, his eyes alight.
	"Yes yes certainly I'll write it all down-" He stepped towards
Mulder. "-It will explain everything-"
	"-Thank you." Scully had said firmly at that point, and
showed him, still explaining, to the door of the office.  Perhaps she
had been brusque but she had become an expert at Mulder's
moods and she knew he had been badly burned by Louis T.
Bernard.
	At the present moment however, Louis T. Bernard was
cursing and pointing his gun out of the window.  Scully thought she
saw the alternating flash of blue and red police lights reflect briefly
on his face but she couldn't be sure.
	"Oh god they're here..." He moaned.  In the meantime, he
had developed an unseemly twitch.  He looked back at Scully.
"Yes you interviewed me. You do remember. Now you'll all listen,
won't you."
	Scully felt herself nod dumbly.  She wondered if Mulder
had noticed her absence yet.  Bernard leaned out of the window
and fired a few shots, the reports ringing sharply through her
apartment.  She could sense a scuffle of action out on the street,
and wondered if the police knew about his bomb.
	After Scully had forced Bernard out of the office after the
interview, she had turned to Mulder.  He was still angry and her
heart went out to him despite herself.  How could he have been in
the FBI so long and stayed so thin-skinned?
	"-Mulder," she began.  Before she could even continue, he
had picked up a pen and thwacked it full-force into the corner.
	"I don't believe it!" he had cried, his voice thin with
emotion. "It sounded like every cheap crap science fiction novel-"
	Scully had tried to keep her voice level but his moods were
contagious. "-If it's any consolation, Mulder, I believed him too-"
	Mulder shook his head at her, full of unspent anger. "No,
Scully-" he began.  "That's no consolation at all.  If you start falling
for every freak that comes through the door,  what good are we to
anyone?!" he shouted.
	Scully had flinched.  This was not the first time Mulder had
raised his voice, but it was the first time he had chastized her
directly.  She felt anger rush up in her throat, but waited a minute
before speaking.  Mulder was pacing the room, sadistically pleased
with his tantrum.

	"Mulder-" she began and stopped, feeling tears of
frustration come to her eyes.  She quelled them.  "Why do you
always act like this?  I've tried and tried to understand you - to let
your anger run it's course, but it seems like sometimes this is what
you want, -the only way you can express yourself."  Mulder stopped
his pacing and stared at her.  "-How come I'm not allowed to
believe?  Why do you try to protect me from your obsessions?  I'm
a trained FBI agent, Mulder, and I can take care of myself."
	Mulder's expression softened.  He fell into his remorseful
ten-year-old face. He shook his head in disbelief at Scully.  Even
Scully couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, but they
kept coming.  She was sure she wasn't as angry as she sounded.
	"Basically Mulder, I'm asking you to relax.  If you can't do
that, then maybe I should go to the cafeteria for a bit while you
cultivate some professional distance-"
	At that Mulder had stared at her blankly a moment, and
had turned on his heel and walked out of the office.  The door
slammed hollowly behind him.
	Scully had sat down at her desk and cried.
   	She did remember Bernard, she thought, watching him
peer out of the window, but the memory of the argument made it
inconsequential.  Scully felt her throat tighten with emotion.  Mulder
had disappeared for an hour or so and then came back and wrote
up his report on Louis T. Bernard, acting as if nothing had
happened.  It was never mentioned again.
	Even now, their disagreement was upsetting to her.  She
slumped hopelessly in her seat.  Tied to her own dining room chair,
with a madman in her home, rehashing old regrets, Scully had
never felt more helpless.
 	The telephone rang, and Scully sat at attention, straining
at her bonds, as if to get it.
	Bernard's eyes followed hers over to the phone.  "-Don't
answer it-" he warned as if she could simply free herself.  The
phone rang again.
	"The machine-"  she began inanely.  Before the words
were fully out of her mouth, he had stood up and taken aim at the
little box on the end table.  The third ring was drowned out by the
shotgun blast.  Shards of plastic flew across the room, and Scully
winced, more out of anger than fear.  There was something deeply
insulting to her about having her personal effects shot up- it
offended her far more than the bomb or the fact that she had been
taken hostage.   The phone, however, continued to ring.
	Bernard circled the telephone warily.  It rang again.
Slowly, he laid his rifle down next to it and sank to his knees almost
reverently.  He rubbed his sweaty palms down the plastique-laden
vest.  He looked over at Scully.
	Ring.
	"The bomb is real," he said directly to her.
	Ring.  Ring.  Scully couldn't tear her eyes off of him.  The
sound of the telephone was sharp and jarring to her ears.
	"-I'll have to tell them about the bomb."  He turned back to
the telephone.
	Ring.
	'Answer it, Goddamnit!' Scully felt like shouting.  She
balled her hands into tight fists behind her back, and pressed her
lips together hard, trying to block out the ringing.   She felt a
fluttery, unstable panic swell up from deep within her.   She
couldn't lose control now, she reminded herself and the very
thought made her lungs tighten.  Another scream threatened to
rise up out of her.  Her nails dug into her wet palms and a drop of
perspiration ran down her temple.  Her lips pressed together
harder.
	She thought of Mulder.  She thought of the way he ran his
hand through his hair.  She thought of his ties, thought of his
apartment, his basketball, his voice.  Her hands, white with lack of
blood, unclenched.
	The phone was still ringing.  Bernard was still watching it.
He reached into his lumpiest pocket and pulled out a metal box
with a toggle switch.  It looked terribly homemade and was
crisscrossed with silver duct tape.  He sat it in front of the
telephone.
	For some reason Scully thought of Mulder's infuriating
poster.  Another wave of regret swept over her, drowning out the
feeling of queasy panic.  She shouldn't have spoken to him like
that-
	Bernard picked up the reciever suddenly and snapped it to
his ear.  For a minute or so he said nothing.

=09
	Mulder jumped to his feet.  "-Who's there?  Who's
talking?"
	Gwen waved him back down, a mildly annoyed look on her
face.  She plugged her other ear with a finger.
	He sat down again heavily.  Scully had to be there.  She
had to be all right.
	Gwen's face was a mask of concentration.  She pushed a
limp strand of mousy hair out of her face.  "-Hello?"  she ventured.
"I'm Gwen.  Please say something..."
	Mulder suddenly felt a wave of nauseous hopelessness
engulf him.  Without bidding came a mental image of  Scully laid
out on her own autopsy table, skin bright white and plasticky under
the blinding examination lights, her chest ripped open by a close
range rifle blast, her eyes frozen open.  He drew in breath sharply
and closed his eyes against the image, concentrating on Gwen's
soothing, low voice.
    	"Are you alone in there?"  She ventured.  Her unhurried
manner unwound Mulder's choking panic.  "Is everybody all right?"
	"...Yes..." came the soft reply.  Gwen let herself sink
halfway back in her chair.  She flashed Mulder a relieved weak
smile.  Mulder felt something loosen a bit inside him.
	"Yes you're alone or yes you're all right?"
	There was a long pause.  "Who are you?"
	"-I'm Gwen.  Is everything okay?"  Mulder drew nearer to
Gwen as she spoke.  He felt suddenly weak-kneed and faint but he
wasn't going to pass out.  He hung on to the edge of Gwen's table,
steadying himself.
	"Who are you?"
	Mulder could hear the voice on the phone, faint and small.
Gwen's eyes darted up to Mulder's for a moment before answering.
"I'm the mediator.  I'm here to help you out - to see that
everything's okay-"
	"-FBI!"  the voice on the telephone screeched suddenly.  "-
Stinking FBI I've had just about enough-"
	Gwen stood up.  "-No, no wait!  Don't hang up!  Don't hang
up.  Please."  She stood up and began to pace with the telephone.
For a moment Mulder saw a flicker of panic in her calm eyes.  "I'm
not FBI."
	Mulder stared at her and his jaw nearly fell open.  What
was going on?
	Gwen returned to her table and sat down again, taking a
deep breath.  			Evidently the other party was just
as shocked.  "Are you there?"  She asked again.  "Please don't
hang up.  I want to talk with you - to find out what's going on."
	"I don't want to talk with the FBI they want to kill me,"  he
said.  Gwen turned the volume up on her cell phone until it gave a
tiny squawk of feedback as a protest.  She beckoned to Mulder,
who leaned over her shoulder.
	"Don't worry about the FBI.  It's just you and me right now.
No hurry.  No rush."  Gwen resumed her intricate doodle.  Mulder
watched her carefully.  She could be lying, but if she wasn't HRT or
FBI, then who was this woman?
	"I want to be heard..."  the voice at the other end of the line
said in a firm, soft voice.  Mulder grabbed the pen out of Gwen's
hand and wrote on her pad: SCULLY?  She nodded.=7F
	"Is anybody with you now?""  Gwen gently prodded,
absently pulling the pen back from Mulder.
	"They didn't hear me-" he began. "-It's too late - I told them
- they didn't want to give me time-"
	"-Okay...okay..." Gwen tried to placate him.  "-We've got
lots of time."
	Mulder stuffed his hands into his pockets and found a
piece of paper.  He pulled it out and unfolded it, keeping an ear
peeled for any mention of Scully.
	The piece of paper was the fax from Bradley and
Stephens.  Rereading the names on the list, Mulder was suddenly
aware they were all familiar to him.  The last attack's victim had
been a retired Air Force Major whose name Mulder knew of in
connection with the Roswell UFO coverup, the victim before that a
congressman who had proposed a bill that would cut funding to the
SETI projects, the attack before that on a scientist affiliated with
CSICOP, the skeptics society.
	The names kept coming.  An author of a mildly popular
book debunking UFO abductions.  Heads of right-wing think-tanks.
Military personnel.  A right-wing talk-show host.  The thread that
strung them all together came into his head so suddenly he
winced.
	Skeptics.  Scully.  His head reeled.
	"-Gwen!" he stumbled over to her with the paper hanging
loosly from his hand.
	"-I promise you you won't be hurt.  That's why I'm here-"
Gwen was explaining.  She looked up instantly, alarmed by the
tone in Mulder's voice, and took the paper from his hand.
	"-They're going to kill me but I don't care.  I don't care- let
them- they don't want to listen-"  the voice from the phone ranted.
Gwen glanced over the list and looked at Mulder, her eyes wide
with curiosity.  Mulder grabbed the pen out of her hand and
scratched a hasty message on her pad:

	       	BELIEVE HIM!


	 Gwen read it and looked up at Mulder levelly.  His face
had become flushed and red.  She nodded.  "-I'll listen to you."
she said simply.
	For a moment there was silence from the earpiece of the
cellphone.  Mulder leaned in closer.  Gwen held her breath.  It
sounded like the line was dead.  Their eyes met.  "-I want to
believe." she said.
	"...Yes..."  The voice returned at length.  Mulder patted
Gwen's shoulder.  "...Yes all right maybe you will.  Will you help
me?"   He was calmer now, and Gwen relaxed somewhat, tipping
Mulder a little salute.  Mulder hunched back down on his stack of
Xerox paper boxes.
	"-Yes.  But first I need to know about who you have with
you-"
	"-I have a hostage.  An FBI agent.  She's here I haven't
touched her."
	Gwen threw her pen at Mulder to get his attention.  He
looked up from staring at his hands dismally and she gave him a
vehement double thumbs up.  'She's Okay!'  she mouthed at him
and Mulder's shoulders dropped in fevered relief.  He rubbed his
face with his hands.
	"Can I speak to her?"  Gwen inquired simply.  Mulder took
his hands from his face and stared at her in disbelief.  Who was
this crazy woman?  In all his training he had never heard of just
asking to speak to the hostage.  "Just to say Hi."

===========================================================================

From: langford@infobahnos.com (Robert Langford)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Gwen, part 2 of 3
Date: Sat, 02 Dec 1995 22:45:36 GMT


"Gwen" by Tracey Houston


Gwen, part 2.


	When Bernard had picked up the telephone,
Scully figured he had no intention of actually
speaking.  Now he was kneeling on her floor, listening
ardently to a voice that she could barely make out.
She guessed, with some relief, that it was one of the
FBI's hostage negotiators.  Knowing that Mulder
probably knew what had become of her was a strange
comfort and Scully strained to hear what was going
on.  				Occasionally, he
would become angry and shout the negotiator down,
grabbing the toggle-switch box that was hooked to his
vest with a chilling finality, but he would snap out of it
and set it down again.
	Scully used the opportunity of Bernard's
obsession with the telephone to examine her
predicament more analytically.   She scanned his
vest.  Sagging at the seams and looking like a lead
lifejacket,  Scully estimated it held about ten pounds
of plastique, probably C-4 or another industrial
explosive.   It appeared that Bernard's claim of having
enough explosive to destroy her apartment building
was accurate, perhaps even an understatement.   It
was all hooked up to the absurdly simple looking
toggle box he was constantly clutching.
	At the moment, however, he was holding the
phone out to her.  "-It's for you-"
	Scully was startled out of her machinations.
She tried to reach for it, forgetting that her hands were
tied.  "-I can't."  It was absurd.
	Bernard scrambled over to her and held the
telephone to her ear.  "-Speak Dr. Scully..."
	"-Hello."  It took Scully a moment to
remember what to say.
	"Dana?  This is Gwen Gardiner.  Are you all
right?"
	Gardiner?  The name rang a bell, but not
enough of one.  Scully looked over to Bernard, who
seemed rapt, watching her.  "Yes.  I'm fine."
	"-Great!"  It was a woman's voice, calm and
low.  "I know you probably aren't in the position to talk,
so just to tell you that we're working it out on this end.
Sit tight."
	"Thank you," Scully said, not really knowing
what else she could say.  Louis T. Bernard had not
become any better smelling over time.
	"-Dana,"  Gwen began and Scully felt her grin
was audible.  "I'm with your partner, Fox ..."
	"-Oh-"  Mulder!  Scully knew he had to be
around but somehow he seemed closer now.  Bernard
was staring her down so she had to be careful.  She
quashed a smile. It was so good to know that Mulder
was nearby, thinking of her, pulling for her.
	"He says Hi."
	"-Oh, well, Hi back." Scully felt slightly odd.
She glanced at Bernard and his toggle switch.  It
struck her that she had to alert them about the bomb,
to tell them who he was.  It also struck her that she
did not want to die without Mulder knowing how much
he meant to her.  "Gwen?"  She asked.  Bernard sat
at attention, ready to snap the phone away if she got
out of line.
	"Mmhm?"
	"-Tell Mulder..."  She began, not knowing
exactly what she was doing. "Tell Mulder that I'm sorry
about that fight we had...tell him I'm really sorry."
	"No problem."  Gwen said after a moment.
"You're going to have to pass me back to your new
friend.  Take care.  And by the way-"
	"-Yes?"
	"-He's not too bad looking as FBI goes.   Now
pass me back."


	When Gwen turned to look at Mulder, he was
wearing a screwy mixture of a grimace and a grin.
Things were going well, so she smiled back at him.
	"...Are you there?" Bernard came back on.
"Tell everybody to back off- get rid of the SWAT
teams..."
	Gwen bit her lip.  "I don't know if I can do
that."
	"They won't listen to me- they've got to get
back - I'll make them hear..."
	Gwen stood up suddenly, startling Mulder.  "-
Wait.  Look, I'll try, all right?  I'll give it my best shot."
She began to pace.
	"-I just want the people to listen."
	"-Okay."  she nodded,  even though he
couldn't see her.  "But you've got to do me a favour.
I'll have to hang up and talk to the SWAT team for a
while - I'll try to get them to move back..."
	"-Favour-?"
	"I'll have to go away for a bit and then I'll call
you and let you know what they say.  When I call,
please answer the phone-"
	"-They won't listen-" Bernard interrupted, and
then felt silent a moment. "-What if it's not you?"
	"Then just hang up.  I will have information
that you will want to know.  Please answer."
	There was a click.  Gwen signed off the
cellular and looked at Mulder.   Mulder looked back at
her.?
	"What's going on?"  he asked, his voice
slightly high.  She set the phone on the table.  "How is
she?  What's happening?"
	"She's good, Fox."  Gwen rubbed her hands
over her face tiredly.  "He's okay too.  That's
important."
	Mulder indicated the fax he had placed in
front of her.  "The agents assigned to this case gave
this to me before we found out about Scully."
	"-My God, has he killed all these people?"
Gwen reread the list of names.  Mulder sat opposite
her.
	"No.  But the thing is, they're all skeptics of
one form or another.  Scully-"  he began and stopped
for a moment, panic stealing over him.  He fought it
down.  "Scully too, I guess.  That's why it's important
for you to believe in whatever he tells you."
	Gwen crossed her fingers.  "Let's hope Agent
Scully can be tactful."
	Mulder remembered all the times when Scully
had tried to delicately point out where he had been too
quick to judge and how often he had obstinately
refused to admit she had been at least half-right.
"...Yeah.  She is."  His voice went suddenly hoarse
and he turned away from her, walking over to the wall.
	Gwen stared at his back for a moment.
Opening her mouth to speak she shut it again firmly,
unsure of how she should react.  She thought a
moment, Mulder remaining silent, she started over.
	"Fox," she began quietly, "She told me that
she was sorry about the fight you two had."
	Mulder turned around.  His look was one of
puzzlement.  "What fight?" he asked, almost
accusingly.
	Gwen blinked. "Oh.  I didn't ask.  Sorry."  She
seated herself back at the desk.  Mulder continued to
stare at her with an unsual expression, and so she felt
obliged to elaborate.  "She seemed to think you'd
know...."
	He turned away from her again and made like
he was examining the defunct copier that had been
shoved in the corner by the SWAT team.  His
shoulders slumped imperceptably.  "-We don't fight."
he said firmly, toying with the plastic dustcover on the
old Xerox.
	Gwen picked the headset up and adjusted it
onto her head.  Mulder sneaked a look at her to see if
she was watching him.  She wasn't and he noted that
she had been right about the headset messing her
hair.
	"You're calling Burton?" Mulder felt himself
ask.  He was under the impression that she'd rather
die than co-operate with the FBI and the SWAT team.
	She clicked the headset on.  "-Hello?  Mission
Control?-"
	The headset crackled to life.  "-Gwen?"  the
voice came through so loud that Mulder had no
trouble hearing it from across the room.  Gwen pulled
the earpiece a few inches away from her ear.  "-Gwen,
do you copy?"  the voice was distorted and crunchy
with static.
	"-You're a little too loud-!" hollered Gwen,
wincing.
	Mulder paced the room.  A fight?  Scully and
he had had their differences, that was sure, but he
never remembered any actual arguements.  Sorry?
Was there anything Scully ever needed to apologize
for?  If there were it would be out of character, or so
he would have thought before, for her to bring it up
now.
	The sound quality or volume did not improve.
"Gwen?  This is Burton.  What's the situation?"
	"Well, " she began slowly, "I spoke to Agent
Scully - she's fine."  She looked over to Mulder,
speaking as much to him as to Burton, but he
appeared to be in deep thought.. "- It's going all right
but I don't think he's ready to come out yet-"
	"-Get him near the window, all we need is a
clear shot-"  Burton's voice crackled with the static of
impatience.
	"No, listen - I need the HRT and SWAT
teams to back down a little.  Mr. Hostage-Taker is
feeling a little fenced in."
	"Okay - we'll pull a few in front, make it look
like a retreat-"
	Gwen rubbed her eyes.  "That won't work - I
think he's read too many cheap crap crime novels-"
	Mulder started.  He made an involuntary lurch
forward as if he had been awakened suddenly.  He
remembered a thrown pencil, a door slamming, a long
sulk in the cafeteria while pretending to read a
magazine.  Scully had been very angry with him.  He
remembered the way her face had lit up.  The memory
streamed back into his head like electricity, alive and
sparking.
	"They're the SWAT team, Gwen - we can't
have them stand down.  This guy has killed five
people - we don't want to lose anybody else."
	"He's got a bomb."  Gwen said, chewing on
the end of her pen.
	"-Say again?!"
	She removed the pen from her mouth and
enunciated.  "I said he's got a bomb."
	Mulder stared at her, truly puzzled.  He had
heard almost every word of conversation between
Gwen and she had never let on that the situation was
that serious.	
	He blinked.  The fight.  Scully had been mad
at him because he had behaved badly.  He was upset
at having been fooled.  She had tried to console him,
to make him feel better and, like an idiot, he had
snapped at her.
	"-Do you have verification on that?"
demanded Burton.  The clatter and noise in the
background abruptly ceased.
	"As much as I need."
	"Does Agent Mulder concur?"
	Mulder was deep in thought.  Why had he
been mad?  Then he remembered: he had been led
on a wild goose chase.  One that was so good even
Scully had fallen for it.  The face came to him, wan
and pallid, and then a name.  He grabbed his
forehead - Scully had been trying to signal him!
	Gwen looked at Mulder.  He nodded excitedly.
"He agrees." she said, watching him closely.  He had
become wound up suddenly.  "Move back the SWAT
team to a secondary location-"
	"-No can do." Burton's voice was loud and
clear.  Gwen jumped to her feet.
	"Yes you can do!"  she cried in exasperation.
"If he pushes the button, your SWAT team has had
it!"
	"-He won't push it, Gwen, if you convince him
to give up."
	In one swift motion Gwen had tugged the
headset from her head and flung it across the table
angrily.  It skidded across the smooth surface,
rebounded off of the unused bulletproof vest and
flipped onto the floor.
	She sat down heavily and put her head in her
hands.  Her mousy hair hung limply in her face.  "That
sucks."
	Mulder came over to her.  "-I bet I know who
this guy is."
	She lifted up her head and looked at him.
	"If I'm right his name is Louis Bernard.  He
claims to be a UFO abductee, among other things.
We had interviewed him a year ago."
	"How do you know this?" Gwen inquired, eyes
wide.
	"Scully was trying to warn me: we had a fight,
- a misunderstanding over his interview.  It was
nothing.  She's trying to jog my memory by
apologizing.  The fight we had was about him."
Mulder felt his cheeks grow hot under Gwen's intense
stare.
	Gwen pulled her notepad over to her and
picked up the pen.  "Louis Bernard?  UFO abductee-"
She wrote these things down.
	Mulder began to pace, reaming off
information.  "-It's important that you believe him.  All
the people he's after are dyed in the wool skeptics.
He wants recognition."
	Gwen pointed her pen at him.  "Yes!" she
said enthusiastically.  "Recognition.  Nobody is
listening to him.  What does he want us to
recognize?"
	"He told us that there was a government
cover-up of..." Mulder threw his hands into the air.  "-
everything.  He wanted to write a book.  Scully and I
felt he was jerking us around."  Mulder ran his hand
through his hair nervously.  "I never thought-" he
paused. "-I don't know, we didn't believe him but he
seemed harmless."
	Gwen picked up her cellphone and dialled the
number.  She sat on the edge of her chair.  "-Does
she have an answering machine?"
	Mulder heard it ring at Scully's end. "Yeah.  It
comes on after two rings."  They listened.  Eternities
seemed to come and go in the silence between.  	
	Gwen frowned. "Evidently not any more."
	It rang a few more times.  They waited.  Gwen
chewed on her pen.  Settling down on his stack of
boxes, Mulder observed the piece of black fabric in
the window that the FBI had hung to conceal their
movements.  It fluttered listlessly in the slight breeze,
sparkling with splinters of broken glass.
	He wondered if he could be wrong about
Louis Bernard.  Even if it were him, was it useful
information?  Ultimately, the situation was the same
as ever.  Mulder recalled that in ancient cultures, to
know the name of the oppressor was to have power
over them.  Isis had tricked Ra into revealing his true
name and she stole his power from him.  Shutting his
eyes, Mulder let out a deep breath.  If only that would
help them save Scully.  Louis T. Bernard.  Name it
and claim it.
	"...Come on..." Gwen mumbled softly.  As if
on cue, the phone was picked up.
	"-Who is this-?"  It was the same breathless
voice at the other end.  Gwen's face broke into a
smile.  Mulder felt the knots in his stomach loosen.
	"It's Gwen.  Is everything still okay?"
	"-Are they going to move them back-?"
	The smile faded from her face.  Mulder could
tell she felt defeated.  "They don't think that it's a good
idea.  I'll try again later-"
	"-Not later!  Now!"  the quiet voice became
more intense, trembling with urgency. "They don't
believe me they won't listen it's too late too late-"
	Gwen jumped to her feet in a panic, sending
her chair flying backwards, her eyes wild.  Mulder rose
quickly.  "-No! -No!  Listen to me-they WILL listen-
they WILL believe you-"  she cried loudly.
	Bernard's voice remained tense but lost its
volume.  "-I tried and tried and nothing's happened-"
	Gwen made a concerted effort to moderate
the tone of her voice.  "The truth is a hard thing for
people to understand.  Be kind.  Give them time-"
	"They've had time..."
	"Give yourself time too.   Don't rush things.
You're still in control..."
	There was a pause.  "I'm tired of it all...so
tired-"
	Mulder realized that he himself did not feel
terribly energetic and that under the thin metallic
adrenaline buzz, he was exhausted.
	"-I understand," Gwen said supportively.
"Can I get you something to eat?"
	"No-"
	"-A sandwich?  Ham and cheese?  Roast
beef?  PBJ...?  Come on, you must be starved,"   she
said genially, like they had been old friends.  He
seemed to hesitate.
	"-Ham and cheese but you bring it."
	Gwen fell silent a moment   Mulder stared at
her, wondering what she would do.  By now it was
clear to him that she wasn't following FBI procedure,
and Bernard's answer seemed to throw her.  Her
mouth bent into a crooked, awkward, smile.
	"I don't think that's a good idea."
	"You bring it." he said firmly.
	"-But-"
	"You bring it you bring it you bring it or that's
it for everybody!"  the voice at the other end of the
phone was hysterical, hollering like a wild animal.
Gwen's eyes suddenly went wide as if she had been
struck.
	"-Wait!" she screamed.  The line abruptly
went dead.  Mulder jumped to his feet, anticipating
the bomb blast that would wink out his life.  Gwen
scrambled towards the broken window.
	The next seconds in Mulder's life existed in a
dream-like limbo.  Details magnified themselves like
the enlarged photographs that came from the FBI
laboratory.  The glass beneath his feet splintering and
crunching.  Gwen's green dress flowing past him.  His
arms reaching and reaching and reaching.
	He caught her shoulders and jerked her away
from the window.
	The black cloth hanging in the window
fluttered aside teasingly enough for them to see
Scully's telephone smashing through her window.  It
plummeted to earth without a moment's hesistation
and shattered like glass on the street below.
	They stared out of their broken window in
amazement at the newly broken window across the
street, Mulder still clutching Gwen's shoulders.  A
minute passed.  The wind whispered through the
remaining bits of broken glass in the window.
	"Damn." said Mulder finally.  "She liked that
phone."  He felt her shoulders slump suddenly like
she was about to pass out and he steadyed her.  She
leaned against him a moment.  "Are you going to be
okay?"  he inquired, his own knees feeling jellyish.
	She nodded and straightened up.  "Yeah."
Mulder unclenched his hands and she dazedly
wandered back to her desk, switching her cellular off.
	A loud crackling whistle came from under the
table.  They stared at one another numbly, unable to
place the sound.  A flash of recognition spread over
Mulder's face and he bent down and picked up the
FBI's headset that lay ignored on the floor.  He held it
out to her, saying nothing.
	She did not move to take it from him.  "He's
calling to tell me that Bernard has thrown the phone
out the window."
	Finally she reached over and took the
proffered headset and affixed it to her head.  The
crackling sound was Burton in a frenzy.  "-Gwen!" he
cried, "-He's thrown the phone out the window! What's
going on?!"
	"Things are still under control.  Our man is a
little upset over the SWAT teams-"
	"-He's violent, Gwen!  We can't let this
situation progress any further - our presence needs to
be felt!  I'm not having them stand down!"
	Mulder saw that she was trembling and near
tears.  He wanted to help her but didn't know how.  "I
know..." she said softly, hanging her head.
	"-Say again?" Burton's voice was loud, an
insult to their quiet haven.
	Mulder put his hand on Gwen's shoulder.
She looked at him a moment, tilting her head, her
expression changing.  She spoke up, a new
determination lighting her eyes.  "-Burton, call the
nearest restaurant.  I'm going to need four ham and
cheese sandwiches A.S.A.P. - call when they're
ready."
	Not waiting for a response, she snapped the
headset from her head and threw it back down on the
table.  Mulder stared at her, perplexed.
	

	Scully existed in a numb state of shock.
When Bernard had demanded that the SWAT team
be moved back, she knew what the answer would be.
Her heart sank.  If he had asked her, she could have
recited the procedure as well as any FBI agent.  Never
retreat.  Suddenly, she knew what it was like to be on
the other side.
	With every moment that passed Bernard
came closer to formulating his final thesis.  He passed
his toggle switch from hand to hand nervously now,
like a hot potato.  Scully's heart stalled when she saw
him hang up the phone.  They needed to keep him
talking.  Take up his attention.  Make him not care
about the box.
	But he had hung up without a word and gone
into the hall with his semi-automatic and fired off a few
rounds, paint and plaster flying.  What scared her was
that he barely noticed her at all.   He'd mumble to
himself softly, and examine his box, pacing back and
forth in front of her like she was just another armchair.
That was about when she realized the FBI was not
calling back.
	Then she felt very alone.  Her eyes rimmed
slightly with water.   Her shoulders ached.  Where was
Mulder?  She wanted to hear one of his sarcastic
retorts, to see the boyish curve of a grin he couldn't
suppress.  Something about Mulder always made her
put things in perspective.  With a brief blink the
looming tears were gone.
	"...They'll listen, oh yes now they'll hear me..."
muttered Bernard walking by her.  She wanted to
speak, but held her silence instead.  What with him
hating the FBI, she didn't want to risk upsetting him.
It was hard though, and instead Scully sat as still as
she had when she was a little girl in church.
	The telephone rang and Bernard ran to it.
Scully released a tight breath.  She knew the FBI
would try to call back.  He stared the phone doubtfully
and with each ring, she despised the soft obsequious
warble more and more.   Telephones ringing had
always annoyed her and Mulder had given her a
phone company brochure promising her that this
particular model had least jarring ring of them all.
They had obviously never thought of situations where
one might be tied up watching somebody watch a
phone ring for hours on end.
	 When Bernard finally pounced on the phone
and answered it, Scully felt like a great weight had
lifted from her.  But he had barely begun speaking to
the negotiator when he became agitated, and began
to shout.  Soon he was pacing and panting and
hollering, every action coated in a layer of perspiration.
She could hear the voice at the other end, calmly
pleading for reason as Bernard began to knock her
furniture around.
	Then, his face red and swollen, he grabbed
the phone cord in his hand.  With a swift jerk he
snapped the cord from the wall.  Scully sat upright,
her hands bound tightly behind her back, and her
voice rose up of its own accord, sprialling out of her
tight throat.
	"-Hey!" she cried. her anger overwhelming
her.  "-Don't-!"
	"-They won't listen and their time is up!"
	With a fluid movement, his puffy face bloating
with the effort, Bernard heaved her phone past the
white curtains and through the window.	

===========================================================================

From: langford@infobahnos.com (Robert Langford)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: "Gwen", part 3 of 3
Date: Sat, 02 Dec 1995 22:47:57 GMT


"Gwen" by Tracey Houston


Gwen, part 3.


	"Do you have a plan?" Mulder asked Gwen at
length.
	"Not much of one." her voice was morose.
She pushed hair out of her face and reached for the
bullet-proof vest that had lain ignored on her table all
morning.  Mulder caught her arm.
	"-You're going?" he demanded. "You're going
to Bernard?"
	She stared at him blankly and he felt
frustration shimmer off of her like waves of heat.  She
was suddenly angry.  "What else can I do?!"
	Mulder threw his hands up into the air. "Well,
you'll be killed-"
	"-It's a test-"
	"-How do you know?" he shot back at her.
She snatched the vest off of the table and struggled
into it.
	"-What would you suggest?"  She zipped up
the vest decisively.
	Mulder dropped his head for a moment.  He
tried to clear his mind.  What was the FBI mantra?
Focus on the situation.  Focus.  Scully has been
taken hostage.  This woman was trying to save her.
He had insisted on the interview with Bernard .  He
wouldn't allow Scully to die at the hands of some UFO
lunatic.   She was too good.
	"I'm going with you."  Mulder felt the words
rise up from deep within and they felt good to him.
Gwen stared at him.  "She's my partner - I got her into
this - I should be there."  He exhaled and realized that
this is what he had wanted to say all along.
	Her smile was apologetic and for a minute
she said nothing.  "This isn't your fault, Fox.  I don't
think you should come along."
	"-You'll need me.  Bernard thinks I'm his
Number One Fan-" he grinned when he saw her
confused expression. "I told him I wanted an
autographed copy of his book."
	The familiar crackling sounded again from the
headset.  Gwen hesitated, her face caught between
an expression of dismay and amusement.  Mulder
saw his chance.
	"I think I could help."
	Gwen shrugged and rubbed her now-
furrowed brow.  "Okay.  I don't have time to argue with
you.  You know the risks."  She picked up the
headset, holding it to her ear.  "Sandwiches?"
	Burton's voice boomed through the earpiece.
"We got 'em.  What's the plan-?"
	Mulder stared at Gwen.  She gave him a
weak smile.  "-We'll be right down." she said, cutting
Burton off and gently laying the headset down on the
table.  Without another word, she turned and left the
room.  For a moment Mulder was motionless,
observing the black curtain undulating softly in the
breeze.  Then he too was gone.
	Mulder went after her into the hall, following
her ringing footfalls down the corridor.   She was
moving fast, he thought, his only glimpse of her a
flutter of green fabric as the door to the stairwell was
closing behind.  Now he felt better, he thought as they
bounded down the stairs.  His head was clear.  He
was going to get Scully.
	He caught up with Gwen as she swung open
the door to the main lobby.  There the FBI and SWAT
teams had re-established their home base, their
walkie-talkies and wires now snaking across the front
reception area.  He hung a step behind Gwen as she
strode boldly over the cables and past the men.   They
all stepped away from her, letting her pass, saying
nothing, watching everything.
	Burton sat on the edge of the reception desk,
a large brown paper bag perched primly in front of
him.  He remembered to smile his paternal smile
when he saw Gwen and held out the bag to her.
	"-Four ham and cheese from Artie's Sandwich
Shop-"
	Gwen took the bag from him and kept going,
like an olympic sandwich relay.      "-Great.  Thanks."
She made a bee-line for the front door, moving
through the FBI men in the flak jackets, Mulder in her
slipstream.  He had no idea when she was going to
do, but he knew that that was part of the bargain.  It
was her show and he was only allowed observer
status.
	When she went through the main door of the
building out onto the sidewalk and kept going, Mulder
knew what she was up to.  He could feel the blood
flow faster in his veins.  Burton stumbled after them,
incredulous.
	"-What's the plan, Gwen?"  he called.  "-What
are we doing?"
	Gwen marched past the barricades, past the
puzzled expressions of the SWAT team, out onto the
deserted street.  The men with the guns let her past
without comment or resistance.  In fact, she seemed
not to notice them, her gaze unwaveringly focussed
on the door to the building across from them.  Once
past the barricades, Mulder, following her silent cue,
slowed to a careful walk.  He noticed Scully's
telephone lying shattered on the ground on the other
side of the street, a disjointed reminder that all was
not well.
	"-Gwen!  Mulder!  Get back-!"  Burton jogged
after them, but hesitated at the barricade.  "-It's not
secure!"
	Nothing changed in Gwen's expression and
so Mulder ignored him, continuing to walk steadily
toward their goal.  He suddenly felt a rush of loyalty to
Gwen.  This was the plan.  They were bringing
sandwiches to Bernard.
	Burton's face shook with indignance that
neither of them saw.  "Get out of the street - that's an
order!" he cried to their backs as slowly their distance
from him widened.
	Gwen's expression did not change nor did
she relent.  Mulder stayed to her right, a pace behind,
matching her step by step.  He saw the white line
drawn down the middle of the street pass without
ceremony beneath their feet, a minor victory.  Burton
continued his officious shouting.
	"Gwen, I want you off this assignment!  Turn
back now!"  Burton hopped over the sawhorse
barricade and onto the empty street.  His urgent tone
made Mulder want to look behind him, but suddenly
reminded of Lot's wife, he stared straight ahead.
	In a lightning flash bullets came zinging all
around them, spraying up stinging chips of concrete,
whizzing by their ears.   Gwen and Mulder froze on
the spot, in mid-step, screwing their eyes tightly shut.
They could feel a scuffle of action somewhere behind
them, and in a second, when the hail of bullets
ceased, all was silent.  Mulder felt blood freeze in his
veins like rubbing alcohol.  Gwen's skin changed
several colours before she could open her mouth to
speak, still staring straight ahead.  He couldn't see her
face, but her ears had gone spotty red with panic.
  	"-Fox?" her voice was tremulous, and he
realized that she was not sure he would be there to
answer.
	"Call me Mulder."  He managed to croak.
She did not look behind her but tipped her head a
little lower, a sly nod, swallowed, and recommenced
her careful walk.
	Whatever had happened with the gunshots
had forced the SWAT team to take cover and Mulder
and Gwen continued their deliberate journey
unhindered.  They looked nowhere but the door to
Scully's lobby.   Mulder had seen it a hundred times
before, but now he saw every detail, every scuff mark,
every dried peeling chip of paint.  Their destination.
	They ducked inside cautiously, unsure of
what they'd find.  As Gwen politely pulled the door
shut behind them, Mulder saw the SWAT team
dragging one of their injured men back behind the
barricades, the street a bloody streak behind him.
She followed his gaze and raised her eyebrows but
said nothing.  They moved carefully into the building.
	All was quiet as they progressed towards the
stairs.  Mulder stumbled over a plaster chip, kicking it
with his foot.  It ricocheted off of the baseboards along
the corridor noisily.  Looking down he saw more
plaster fragments littering the carpet outside the
stairwell and indicated them to Gwen with his foot.
	She nodded and pointed silently to the bullet-
holed walls in the stairwell as she mounted the strairs.
Bernard definitely had a lot of ammunition to waste,
thought Mulder and he could not help shuddering a
little.  He certainly came prepared to face the FBI.
	As they padded softly up the stairway, Mulder
instinctively swung his hand around his waist,
reaching for his gun.  Gwen caught him doing so out
of the corner of her eye and came to a sudden halt.
	She caught his hand.  "No!" she whispered
sharply. "-What did you bring that for?!"
	Mulder didn't appreciate her tone of voice.
"I'm an FBI agent - it's required equipment!" he
snapped back in a hoarse stage whisper.
	Annoyance flashed across Gwen's face.  She
swatted his hand away and carefully drew his gun out
of his holster herself, holding it pinched between her
thumb and index fingers, a disgusted look on her face
like she were disposing of somebody else's used
kleenex.
	"-Who's there?!"  It was the voice from the
phone, only this time louder, live, ringing off of the
stairwell walls.  An automatic rifle poked out of the
entrance to the third floor and trained itself on them.
A head appeared behind the gun, so soaked in
perspiration that it looked to Gwen like somebody had
emptied a bucket of water on his head.
	"It's him," she thought she heard Mulder
breathe from behind her, but he stood so perfectly still
that she though she might have only imagined his
speaking.
	It made no difference whether he spoke or not
because when Gwen glanced over at Mulder, he was
like a hunting hound, alert, every hair pointed in the
direction of what was most assuredly Louis T.
Bernard.
	"Who are you?!"  Bernard demanded, the
barrel of his gun shifting from Mulder to Gwen to
Mulder again.  Gwen took a gentle step forward,
offering forth Mulder's gun.
	"I'm Gwen," she said with a grave smile. "and
this is Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI - you've met him
before, I think."
	The rifle pointed at Mulder's face.  "-Why is he
here?"  Bernard asked from behind his gun.
	"He wanted to come along." Gwen said
simply.  Her honesty frightened Mulder.  She held out
his gun again. "This is his gun."
	Bernard did not move.  "I'm Louis T.
Bernard."
	Gwen moved very slowly and deliberately
towards him and put Mulder's gun on the floor.  She
backed away and held up the brown paper bag.  "I've
got four sandwiches for us in this bag and I'm starved.
Can we eat, Louis?"
	Louis leaned over and picked up Mulder's
gun, examining it.  He indicated Scully's apartment
with his rifle.  "-All right.  All right for now."
	Mulder waited impatiently for Gwen to step
into Scully's doorway, and followed her, practically
stepping on her heels, into the apartment.
	What Mulder saw was unreal.  Scully's
normally well-ordered abode looked like a bomb had
already gone off.  Tables were overturned, bric-a-brac
crushed underfoot, the window smashed and spent
rounds of ammunition lay scattered over her sofa
carelessly.  In this disorganized state, anything that
Mulder recognized of Scully's looked wrong, out of
place, lying out of its carefully-ordered universe.
	And amid it all, like the plastic bride on a
wedding cake centerpiece, sat Scully, pale and
mussed, lashed unforgivingly to a rigid dining chair
with electrical tape.  She could not restrain herself
when she laid eyes on Mulder and Gwen.
	"-Oh!"  she exclaimed softly.  Colour flowed
back into her cheeks.
	Mulder knew he was helpless to assist her,
but he grinned at her rakishly and dropped her a little
nod.  Scully's eyes grew wide.
	Behind him Louis T. Bernard wound up an
incredible swing and let loose, bringing the butt of
Mulder's gun down on the back of Mulder's head with
every advantage of physics and leverage.
	The next instant Mulder lay sprawled across
the carpet, having taken one of the last things
standing, a reading lamp, with him.  Gwen whirled
around, brown bag in hand, looking like a dismayed
picnicker.  "Louis!"  She cried.  "What did you do that
for?"
	Louis picked the roll of tape up from the floor
and tossed it to Gwen, who caught it, her face
draining of colour.  He pointed Mulder's gun at her.
"Tie him to the chair too."
	"I'm not here to do this-" Gwen mumbled,
grabbing another of Scully's dining table chairs and
pulling it towards the living room.  Mulder lay on the
ground, semi-concious and moaning, and she tried to
lump him onto the chair.  He resisted a little but she
finally knelt behind him, taping his hands behind his
back, he and Scully side by side like FBI salt and
pepper shakers.  "I thought you wanted to talk with
me."
	Bernard kept his aim with Mulder's gun.  "It's
too late."
	Gwen stood up and stared at Bernard.
"Okay-" she began. "Let's talk about this-"	Ber
nard raised the toggle box at her threateningly.  "No!
I've had enough-"
	Gwen held her ground, and suddenly she
was angry.  "-So have I."
	He backed away from her.  "I have the tools, I
have the tools and I WILL use them..."
	"To do WHAT?"  Gwen demanded.  Mulder
was dimly aware of his hands going prickly with
numbness.  "What?  Blow us all up-? Destroy the
building?"
	"-You won't listen you won't listen it's too late-"
	Scully noticed a dark wet spot spread on
Bernard's pants.  She wrinkled her nose.
	Gwen shook her head. "We can't listen if you
kill us!  What the hell do you want?  You got me here,
you've got two FBI's tied up, what the hell do you
want?!"
	Gwen started to walk toward Louis, and
Mulder was groggily aware that the man with the
bomb was about to flick the switch.  Urine smell filled
the room.
	"We want to help but all you do is threaten
us!  We want to listen, that's why we came-"   Gwen
said in a reconciliatory tone.  "-Don't you want to tell
us your side of the story?"
	Bernard hesitated, a millisecond of doubt
flickering in his eyes.  He shifted from foot to foot.
Gwen saw her chance.  "If you hit that switch no one
will ever hear you, Louis."
	Gwen reached his side and lightly touched
Bernard's arm.  "Come on, Louis."  She looked to
Mulder and Scully for support.  Scully found herself
nodding understandingly.  In a way she felt
embarrassed on his behalf.
	"What about your book?"  Mulder mumbled
groggily.  "I was waiting for your book."
	Bernard looked almost excited.  "-My book-"
he began.
	"Take off the vest, Louis..."  Gwen smiled at
him.  "Let's all have a sandwich."
	Bernard's face fell.  "Then they'll put me in
prison."
	"-Yes..." Gwen answered after a minute. "-But
you can write your book in prison."  she suggested
quickly.    Louis thought about this a moment.   Scully
hoped against hope that he would remove the bomb
that was strapped to his body.  "I can see to it that you
get a word processor in jail."
	Mulder looked up through his haze.  She was
definitely not FBI.
	"Take off the vest, Louis.  We can have a bite
to eat and you can tell us about your book." Gwen's
tone was amicable.
	Louis hesitated, different intentions playing
across his face.  "-What about them?" he asked
Mulder, pointing out the smashed-out window to the
barricaded street.
	Mulder shrugged weakly. "They won't mind.
They get paid by the hour."
	Bernard stared at them all suspiciously.
Gwen casually turned and went to get the bag of
sandwiches she had left by Mulder's chair like a busy
hostess.  She opened the bag and inhaled.
	"Mmm.  Black Forest ham, Louis.  Let's eat."
	Scully realized that she was ravenous despite
everything.  Indeed, the smell of fresh bread and
cheese wafted over to her, erasing the smell of urine
and sweat from her nostrils.  The scent of sandwiches
in a paper bag brought Scully back to a happier time
with school lunches and Oreo cookies.  She shut her
eyes.
	"Smells great!" Scully enthused, hardly aware
at all that she had spoken aloud.
	Louis T. Bernard slowly shrugged out of his
heavy vest, emerging from its weight as if it were a
cocoon.  A silence fell over the room.  Louis clung to
his vest and the toggle box like a security blanket and
pacifier.
	"-Okay," he said finally. "but I keep the vest
I'm still in control-"
	Gwen nodded, and handed the bag to
Bernard.  He reached in and withdrew a promising
looking sandwich.  He handed the bag back to her
and she chose her own.  "Can I untie them?" she
asked, indicating Mulder and Scully.
	Bernard nodded, his mouth already full.  "I
still have the bomb."  Gwen knelt next to Scully and
worked at her tape.  Scully smiled weakly at her.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she
remembered Gwen's face from somewhere.
	"-Hi."  Scully held still while Gwen freed her
hands.
	"You hungry Dana?"  Gwen grinned.  Scully
nodded, her feet freed.  Gwen passed her the bag,
and went to Mulder's side.  "Help yourself."
	Mulder looked like had just awoken. "Did you
have to tape me so tight?  I can't feel my hands..."
	"How's your head?"  Gwen asked, ripping his
tape off.
	Mulder shrugged.  "It's just sore."  Scully
passed him the paper bag.
	"It's the last one, sorry."  she managed a
weak relieved smile.
	"You and your partner make a great couple,
you know that?"  Gwen smiled.  Mulder said nothing,
but turned a degree pinker.   Scully acted absorbed in
her sandwich.
	"-They're trying to kill me."  Bernard said
matter-of-factly around a mouthful of ham and cheese.
"They don't want me to tell my story they don't want
me alive-"
	"Who doesn't want you alive?"  Scully
inquired.  Bernard stared at her as if he had forgotten
she could speak.
	"The people who abducted me - the ones that
took me."
	Gwen folded her arms and sat down on
Scully's sofa slowly, watching Bernard as if he were a
fascinating television program.
	"Who took you?"  Mulder asked, wincing at
the sound of his own loud voice.
	Bernard moved to go to Mulder, but as he
was about to pass in front of the window, Gwen
jumped to her feet.
	"Not in front of the window!" she cried
suddenly.  "Walk around.  The snipers..."
	Bernard walked behind the sofa to get to
Scully and Mulder.  "They wanted me to participate-"
he breathed.
	"In the tests?" Scully asked.  He shook his
head.
	"-No no no-" Bernard began.  "In the
abductions."
	Mulder and Scully glanced at one another.
Mulder's voice belied his excited incredulity.  "The
abductions?  How come you didn't tell us that
before?"
	"Everbody's involved, everybody.  I can't be
sure - I had my list and I was making sure you weren't
them, weren't involved."  He turned to Gwen.  "They'll
find me in prison and get me there..."
	Gwen rubbed her forehead thoughtfully.  "I
could probably arrange for you to be put under
Protective Custody..."
	Bernard nodded vehemently.  "I just need
time to write my book - to get the story out, make
them listen."
	Mulder and Scully glanced at one another.
Suddenly their desire to bring Bernard to justice had
been put on hold.  Gwen looked around the room,
muttering to herself, lost in thought.
	"Look, get me a phone.  I'll call those guys
across the street and see what I can do..."   Scully
nodded and pointed at the briefcase that lay in the
haphazardly in  the doorway.
	"My cellular's in there..." She looked at
Bernard.  He nodded to her.
	Mulder sat down slowly on the arm of Scully's
sofa next to Louis.  "Is the government involved in the
abductions, Louis?   Is that why you killed those
people, why you wouldn't talk to the FBI?"
	Louis nodded, polishing off his sandwich.
"Everybody's involved -the FBI, the CIA, the Army - I
wasn't supposed to get away from them I had to get
them before they got me-"
	"-Do you think that Agent Scully is a threat?"
Mulder asked quickly, trying to conceal his incredulity.
	Bernard looked at Scully who was over at her
briefcase.  She looked at him, and Mulder saw her
hands trembling a little.  "She-"  He stopped.  "I don't
know."
	Scully looked down.  Now that Bernard was
less of an immediate threat, she was overcome with a
numbing awareness of how close she might have
come to dying.  When she lifted up her head, Mulder's
eyes met hers and she knew that he could sense it
too.
	Gwen walked a distance away, dialled her
phone and plugged her other ear.  The phone barely
rang once at the other end before Burton, his voice
high and wiry, answered.
	"Gardiner?!  Where are you?"  He tried to
sound authoritative but the only sound escaping was
an annoyed whine.
	Gwen felt her head start to throb again. "I'm
across the street - everybody's fine.  We're
negotiating."
	"What's he want?  Get him to surrender."
	"Well, the problem is he's got a really huge
bomb-" she looked over at Bernard, who was sitting
with Mulder, the vest lumpily folded in his lap. "-
strapped to his body." she lied.
	Bernard turned to Mulder.  "I wanted to make
sure that she knew that they were coming..." he said
quietly.
	Mulder felt his blood freeze dead in his veins.
"She?  Scully?  What are you saying?"
	There was a pause from Burton and the
phone line fell silent as he took account of the
situation.  "Can you tell how big the bomb is?"  He
said finally.  Gwen covered the mouthpiece of the
phone with her hand and turned to Louis.
	"-Is that a plastique bomb?"  she whispered.
	Louis nodded gravely. "C-4.  It's mine I made
it myself."
	Gwen removed her hand.  "It's C-4 and
there's a lot of it."
	"Christ.  Stand by, Gwen - can you stand by?"
Burton sounded impressed.
	Mulder grabbed Louis' arm, frantic and
impatient.  "Louis - Louis, listen to me.  What are you
saying?"
	Louis turned to Scully, who squirmed
uncomfortably under his hard gaze.  Even though the
immediate threat was gone, she was more worried
now than she had been before.
	"There are many of us." he said after a
moment, and a chill went down Scully's spine.  "- I'm
not the first, there have been many - there will be
more - I can't, I can't tell who-"
	"Who WHAT?!" Mulder demanded loudly, as
if Bernard were hard of hearing.
	Burton came back on the line.  "Gwen!"  he
demanded.  "What's he want?  Is he willing to
negotiate?"
	Gwen privately rolled her eyes.  "That's what
I've been doing.  He's reluctant....but he wants a word
processor."
	There was silence from the other end of the
phone line and then, "-A word processor?"  Burton
seemed dazed by the simplicity of it all. "We can't give
in to him, Gwen."
	"-Look,"  Bernard said. To Mulder, for a
moment he looked focussed. "I - I have been trying to
find who's causing all the abductions -  I have been
trying to make sure that they don't get away with it.  I
can't tell anymore...they've ruined my mind with their
tests-"
	"The aliens?  Who's testing you?"  Scully
surprised herself.  In her own ears her voice sounded
weak and worried.
	Louis frowned at Scully and shrugged.
	"You killed a military man yesterday, an Air
Force major - are the military involved?"  Mulder
demanded.  "What about the other people you killed?
What about the people you named on the list?"
	Scully blinked.  "A list?"
	Louis nodded at Mulder.  "You found the list -
I left it behind on purpose.  I wanted you to find me
first before they did because they will they will and I
want my revenge."
	Gwen paced the room with Scully's cellular
growing hot in her hand.
	"Get him to surrender." Burton commanded.
"We're not Toys R Us."
	"It's not like it's coming out of your salary,
Burton!"  Gwen said angrily, standing up.  She took
the conversation to another part of the room.
	"He's killed three men, Gardiner, and the
American taxpayer does not want us buying this son
of a bitch gifts, do you understand me?"
	Scully knelt in front of Bernard.  "Louis," she
began quietly. "We need to know why you're doing
this.  We're going to help you."
	Louis closed his eyes.  With his lumpy vest off
Scully realized he was only a withered shell of a man.
"It's so hard-so hard..." he began quietly.
	"Why Scully?" Mulder asked again.
	"She didn't believe me - everybody involved
pretends they pretend to hide from the truth but they
create it they create the lies they are the ones-"
Bernard's voice rose with newfound energy. "They
ARE they ARE they ARE-"
	"The American taxpayer does not want this
entire street wiped off the map, okay?  Can you get
me a word processor for the man so we can all go
home?" demanded Gwen.
	There was a moment's silence from Burton's
end.  "You couldn't just get him to stand near the
window-?" he said finally, a weariness seeping into his
voice.
	Gwen yanked the phone away from her ear in
frustration and stared at the small black receiver in
disbelief.  She jabbed her middle finger upwards
several times in the direction of the window, while
Burton called her name tinnily.
	"You thought Scully was involved in the cover-
up?"  Mulder couldn't hide his incredulity.  Bernard
took Scully's hand in his.
	"I know you aren't one," he said to her.
"because you listened but I didn't know I wasn't sure.
But I knew you were FBI and I knew that if I took you
they would come and I could make them pay for
everything-" he let go of her hand and caressed the
sweat-soaked hunting vest in his lap.  Scully felt a
shiver rattle up her back.
	"You think the FBI are involved?" she felt
herself ask.
	Bernard's hands tightened on the vest in his
lap,  his fingers wrapping around the toggle box
protectively.  He made no reply.
	Mulder leaned forward.  "The FBI?"
	"-Gwen?!  Do you copy?  Gwen-?" Burton
was shouting when Gwen had calmed down enough
to pick the telephone back up.
	"You're a swine." she said simply.  There was
silence.
	"Okay."  Burton said after a moment.
	Gwen came to a dead halt in the middle of
her measured pacing.  "Okay?"
	"You can have the goddamned machine."
	"Thanks," she said acidly.  "I know that it
must kill you."
	"Tell him he can have the word processor and
get him outside."  Burton snapped.  "But you've got
no more than fifteen minutes."
	Gwen ground her teeth together.  "Don't
threaten me, Burton.  I'm not your hostage."
	"I'm putting a full account of your behaviour in
my report, Gardiner-"
	"I'll put a full account of yours in mine."  she
spat, tearing the receiver away from her ear.  "I'll call
back when we're coming out."  she said in the general
direction of the telephone and signed off.
	Bernard looked from Mulder to Scully, who
wore identical expressions of amazement.  "The FBI
are involved."
	Scully sat back on her heels and blinked, her
brain wheeling through a thousand possiblities.
Mulder shook his head in disbelief.
	"Who, Louis?"  his voice was taut and
excited. "Can you name names?"
	Louis shook his head mournfully.  "No no I
can't remember...."
	Mulder released an exasperated breath.
	Gwen rubbed at her face tiredly as she
approached the group.  "Okay," she began, sitting
down at the edge of the sofa.  "I've done what I can.
They'll give you a word processor to finish your book
with if you'll release your hostages and surrender
quietly."
	Louis looked down at his vest.  "And if I don't
want to?"
	Gwen sighed.  The idea of getting Burton to
cooperate any further left a bad taste in her mouth.
"They're getting a little fed up out there, Louis.  I'm
worried that they'll try to storm the building-"
	Bernard shot to his feet angrily. "Let them-let
them!  I've got the bomb and I didn't make it for
nothing!"
	Mulder and Scully stood up as well.  Scully
moved to Bernard's side.  "They're trying to kill you,
Louis - don't do their work for them."
	Mulder nodded in agreement.  "That's it
Louis, they want to see you snap."
	Louis sat back down again, his face haggard.
"I don't have a choice do I?  I killed those people to
make it safer now I have to go to jail..."
	Nobody replied.  Reaching over, Gwen patted
his shoulder.
	"I shouldn't have done this - I shouldn't have
hurt anyone but I thought it would help.  I used the
tools wrongly and they'll make me pay." He looked up
at Gwen.  "I deserve to die."
	She shook her head at him.  "Nobody
deserves to die, no matter what they've done, Louis.
That's the point.  That's why you've got to go to jail."
Gwen said, her voice compassionate.  "If you think
somebody's going to try to kill you, I can arrange for
you to be held in protective custody, but it's not fun.  I
recommend that you weigh your options."
	Mulder took out a pen and scribbled
something down on a dog-eared business card.
"Okay, Louis, here's the card of a good laywer and
this is Scully's and my extension number at the FBI
on the back  We want to know more about your story,
maybe even help with your book-"
	Scully looked at him.
	Mulder shrugged and continued. " -We'll help
you."
	Louis accepted the card and burst into tears.
He sobbed loudly, the tears dripping off of his chin
and splattering onto the plastique-laden vest in his lap
below.  "-I tried, I tried SO hard..." he sobbed.  "I'm so
sorry...."  The vest slid off his lap and onto the floor
unheeded.  Gwen reached down and picked it up
carefully.
 	Scully felt a lump rise in her throat and when
she looked over at Mulder who looked similarly
affected.  She could not tell if it was relief or sympathy.
	Gwen took the vest over to the dining table
and laid it down gently.  Tears had come to her eyes
but she blinked them away.   Picking up Scully's
cellular, she dialled Burton.
	"-Gwen?!" He shouted at her.
	"It's over." she said simply, wiping at her
eyes.
	"Get him outside, Gwen."
	"I will.  Just give us some time to come
down."
	Another exasperated pause from Burton, then
"-You'll all be debriefed when you get out, just come
out now-"
	"-Also," Gwen interrupted.  "Also, we need to
place him protective custody.  As well as the word
processor."
	"-Gwen."  Burton sounded disappointed.
"What for?"
	"People will try to kill him."
	Burton laughed.  "Who?"
	Gwen grabbed her forehead.  How difficult did
everything have to be? "Protective custody and a word
processor, okay Burton?  Agree and you're the hero of
the day."
	Again he laughed.  "Fine, Gwen, fine.
Where's the bomb?"
	"I've got it."  She hoped he understood the
tone of her voice.
	"Don't touch it.  Leave it where it is and come
out."
	"We'll be out in a few minutes." Gwen said
and hung up.  She brushed her hair out of her face
and returned to the others, who were sitting in a tight
circle around Scully's sofa.  Bernard had stopped
crying and was sitting quietly.
	"Okay," she said to them.  "-it's all over.  I told
them that we'd be out in a few minutes.  Is that okay
with you, Louis?"
	Louis nodded tiredly.  "Can I have a glass of
water?"
	"Sure-"  Scully automatically went to her
kitchen and pulled four glasses out of the cupboard,
filling them with some cranberry juice.  She brought
them back out to them all.  Mulder hadn't realized how
dry his mouth had become and gulped his down.
	Gwen turned to Scully, glass of juice in her
hand. "I told agent Mulder that you were sorry about
that fight you had, " she grinned. "but he didn't
remember it.  He told me you didn't fight."
	Scully turned to Mulder, a half-smile of
amazement on her lips.  "We don't?"
	Mulder had turned beet-red and even Louis
was staring at him.  "Well, I just want you to know,
Scully..." he looked at Gwen and Louis.   Gwen went
over to the sofa and tried to fix the reading lamp that
Mulder had landed on.  Louis wandered the
apartment in a daze.  Mulder waited until they had
gone.  "That nothing you've ever said -about me,
about how I act, has been wrong."
	Scully looked down.  "Well Mulder,
sometimes I can be a little hard on you."
	Mulder squeezed her arm.  "I love it, though."
he grinned.
	"-Is all well with the world now?" Gwen asked
impishly from over by the dining table.  Louis smiled
weakly and moved to the window.  The curtain
fluttered aside and he caught a glimpse of the
phalanx of police, SWAT teams and FBI assembled
below.  		
	Swiftly, silently, a single bullet launched from
one of the myriad guns on the street whizzed through
the lace curtains and hit Louis full-force above his
right eyebrow.  It travelled through his head, parted
his damp hair and flew into Scully's sofa.  Bernard
dropped to the ground like a lead weight.
	Gwen ran to Louis' side. "-Louis!  Louis!" she
cried.  Mulder and Scully flew over to them, Scully
expertly elbowing Gwen out of the way.  Mulder stood
over them, his face twisted with disgust.  There was
no ceremony.  Bernard was still.	
	"-I'm a doctor-" Scully said automatically,
turning Louis on his side.  There was a wet, gaping,
wound in the back of his head.  Louis' eyes had frozen
over, a dark red hole over an eyebrow arched in what
looked like surprise.  Scully gingerly lay him on his
side and stared at the floor, wanting to cry but the
tears resisted her.
	"They got him." Again Mulder felt his stomach
twist in an angry knot.
	"What?" Gwen said quietly in disbelief.
Nobody answered her.  "I don't believe it."  She said
slowly, with no conviction at all.  She rose to her feet.
To Mulder it looked like every inch of Gwen's hair was
about to stand on end.
	Scully stood as well, her eyes never leaving
the spot on the floor.  She realized she was dizzy and
nauseous.  Mulder slipped an arm around her
shoulders, his face grim, and she let herself lean
against him.
	"I don't believe it," Gwen said again, and to
Mulder it sounded like she was trying to convince
herself.  She looked to them both for an answer.
Nobody said anything. Louis T. Bernard bled like an
overripe fruit on the carpet.  Scully closed her eyes.
	Slowly Gwen moved to the doorway as if in a
dream.  She stepped over broken and upended
furniture with a sleepwalker's grace, picking up speed
as she went.  By the time she reached the door she
was striding and Mulder thought he heard her mutter
Burton's name as she stormed out into the hall.
	A good distance away, out on the street,
pressing eagerly aginst the straining wooden
barricades, the public and the press watched the tiny
mite-like figures of the SWAT team skitter about,
oblivious to the danger they might be in.  The flurry of
activity all of a sudden signalled the press that the
siege was over, and reporters and journalists hastily
improvised their monologues in front of cameras or
into cellphones.
	In a moment Gwen blasted out of the
apartment building, the doors slamming open wide.
She made an angry beeline across the empty street to
the station that Burton and his sharp shooters had
made.  Television crews squinted their zoom lenses
on the scene and the crowd leaned in eagerly.
	"BURTON!" Gwen bellowed at the top of her
lungs, coming at him with her arms extended in front
of her.  She shoved him in the chest mightily and he
fell back against his armoured men like a giant turtle.
	"-Gwen-!" He began, feigning surprise.
Behind him the armoured men were slapping each
other's backs.
	"Is this some kind of joke?!" she hollered.
	Burton's men helped him to stand.  "-Now,
Gwen-" he started placatingly.
	She wouldn't hear him.  "He surrendered, you
idiot!  We got him!  Everything was all right-!"
	Across the street, Mulder and Scully were
being escorted from the building by men in jackets
that had FBI printed on them.  They caught Scully up
in a wool blanket and dragged her over to an
ambulance that had just arrived.  Mulder shrugged off
the offer of a blanket and slowly approached the
HRT's enclave.  Burton was trying to quiet Gwen, who
was irate, swinging hands this way and that.
	"-Don't worry Gwen, you're a pro.  You did a
great job-"
	"-You shot a man when there was absolutely
no danger!  What is wrong with you?!"  she shouted
him down.  His patronizing comments did nothing to
make her feel better.  Angry tears stung her eyes and
she blinked them away.
	"There's ALWAYS a danger," Burton tried
again, trying to stand between Gwen and the line of
the press's zoom lenses.  "-we couldn't risk losing
agents Mulder and Scully and you-"
	"-Shut up!" she cried, shoving him again.
"What the hell do you PAY me for, exactly?  Why am I
working so hard to negotiate with someone that
ultimately you'll murder?!"  she spat angrily.  Mulder
joined them, but hung back a few feet.   For such an
easy-going person, Gwen's rage was awe-inspiring.
	"You're the best, Gwen, we NEED you-"
Burton tried to wrap his arm around Gwen amicably,
although Mulder saw him trying to draw her out of the
range of the cameras.
	She shook him off, much to Mulder's secret
delight.  "-For what?!"
	Burton looked like he wanted dearly to take a
swing at her.  He didn't.  "Listen,-" he began and he
suddenly stopped making an effort to seem paternal.
Scully wandered over from the ambulance with a
styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand.  She joined
Mulder.
	"-What's going on?"  she asked him under
her breath, even though it was all to easy to read
Gwen's body lanaguage.  Mulder said nothing and
indicated the arguers with a point and a slight smile.
	"-If you want we can double the pay for this
job.  It was a tough one."  Burton acquiesced.  About
to cut him off impatiently, Gwen stared at him in
amazement.
	"-What?"  she asked softly.  Burton nodded
and took her arm to pull her away from Mulder and
Scully.  She resisted.
	"How about 15 instead of 7 thou?" he
murmured softly to her, as if  he were whispering a
romantic tune into her ear.  "There's an extra
thousand for good faith."
	Gwen whipped around and took a wide swipe
at him.  Her facial expression betrayed her, giving
Burton time to duck her blow and instead she spun
uselessly off into space.  Burton caught her arm and
wrenched her to the spot angrily and with such force
that Mulder took an involutary step forward to Gwen's
aid.  She wrestled herself free of Burton anyway and
stood there speechlessly panting at him, her face red.
	Burton's face was ugly.  "I'm just doing my
job."  He muttered at her between clenched teeth.
"But I'm making you an offer, okay Gardiner?"
	Behind them, emergency workers carried an
anonymusly shrouded figure out on a stretcher and
loaded it into the ambulance to be forgotten about by
everybody by the time the 6 o'clock news came on.
Scully watched them close the doors to the truck and
slowly back away, the flashers silently fluttering as it
drove off.
	Gwen watched the ambulance drive away as
well.  She turned back to Burton, who was watching
the media watch him.  "Keep the money,"  she said,
feeling sick.  "I didn't do my job."
	Burton looked fed up with her. "Gwen-" he
began.
	"I DON'T WANT THE MONEY!" she shouted
at him with no warning.  	
	Mulder thought he saw Burton flinch slightly.
A distance away a black limousine lurked up
anonymusly.   Burton eyed it and turned to her.
	"-Whatever you want, Gwen." he said
hollowly.
	Gwen opened her mouth to protest  "-You
don't understa-"
	"-The car is here to take you back home,
Gwen."  He cut her off loudly.
	Gwen turned to Mulder and Scully, noticing
them for the first time.  Scully suddenly realized how
drained looking Gwen had become.  Gwen met her
gaze a moment, considering something, and then
turned to Mulder.
	"I'm going to take Agent Mulder up on his
gracious offer to drive me and Agent Scully home,"
she said offhandedly to Burton, still looking at Mulder.
	Mulder opened his mouth and then thought
better of it.  He looked at Scully, whose facial
expression matched Gwen's.  He began again.  "-
Yes." he agreed, a little dubiously, "-it's the least we
could do to thank her."

Fin.