"Bailey?" Dana asked, looking up from where she held the empty water-bottle over the fire. She had managed to get the top about halfway off after about an hour of working at it, and only managed to burn her fingers a little. "Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"It sounds like a helicopter."

He listened, then nodded. "It does. Maybe it's the same one that went over earlier."

They'd heard it, but it had been too high up for them to try to signal. This time it sounded a lot lower. Bailey got to his feet and helped her up. They stepped out from under the shelter and squinted through barbed wire and chain-link. The chopper was still quite a ways from them, flying in an odd, pendulum sort of pattern. Bailey started to grin.

"They're flying search."

"Do you think they're looking for us?"

He stared at the aircraft. "I'd say that's a safe bet, it looks like our chopper it's the right colors, anyway."

The feeling of relief that flooded her was surprisingly intense. She thought for a moment she was going to burst into tears, but somehow managed not to.

"Dana? Anything wrong?"

Dratted observant male, she thought as she nodded. "I'm just glad this is almost over." Even as she said it, she was pervaded with an odd feeling of loss. "At least, I think I am." she amended.

He nodded. "Yeah, same here." Several moments passed, then he sighed. "How do you want to play this?"

She turned and looked at him, not sure she understood what he was referring to, until she saw his face. Then she was sure. "I..." she stopped, at a loss for words. God, this was awkward. When she'd practically assaulted him last night, she hadn't thought this far ahead. She met his gaze evenly.

"I'm not ashamed of anything," she said firmly.

He nodded, a hint of relief in his dark eyes. "I agree." He studied her intently, seeming almost to be inside her head. Finally he spoke again. "I think this is just between you and I."

She nodded, relieved. "Yes. They don't need to know. It would just make things..."

"Complicated." He finished for her. "You're absolutely right."

She had the sudden, inescapable feeling that she had to do something, say something, or she would regret it for a long time. She just didn't know what that something was. He turned and leaned down to pick up his suit jacket from the floor of the shed. When he straightened, she caught his hand and pulled him toward her, reaching up to bring his mouth down to hers. He was surprised for a moment, then cooperated quite willingly. After a moment he drew back.

"What's that for?"

"I just wanted to. This isn't over, Bailey," she said quietly.

He contemplated her for a long moment, then slowly began to smile. "Not unless you want it to be."

She shook her head. "I'm not exactly sure how to make it work, but I don't want it to be over." She grinned. "Don't forget, I can find out where you live."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Is that a threat, Agent Scully?"

She smiled. "You bet it is, Agent Malone."

"Good. Just checking."

The sound of the helicopter grew louder. Bailey looked up, and stepped back from her. "Best be on good behavior now, they're low enough to see us."

She nodded, and shaded her eyes as she looked at the 'copter. Coming out of the west, she had to look straight into the sun to see it.

"There's one thing I don't get." Bailey said.

She looked back at him. "What's that?"

"It seems too easy. Why is he letting them find us?"

"Maybe he has other plans for us." she said with a shrug. "Maybe they were smarter than him."

"Maybe," he agreed, his eyes distant, thoughtful. Scully looked up again. She could see figures in the craft, which had the Justice Department seal prominently displayed on its side. Grinning, she waved in welcome. In mid-wave, Bailey grabbed her around the waist and dove for the ground, turning to take the brunt of the fall himself, then wrapping his arms around her and rolling into the deep shadows inside the shed. Stunned, she fought him, but he pinned her in place with his weight, wedging her against the wall. She tried to lift her head, but he shoved it back down against his chest.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, pushing at him.

"Be still, dammit! He's shooting at us! In here he can't see us as well if we don't move."

She went still. Shooting? "I didn't hear anything," she whispered.

"Neither did I. The copter's too loud."

"Then how did you..."

A loud, metallic 'spang' interrupted her, making them both jerk in reaction. Daylight shone suddenly through a hole in the back wall of the shed, about a foot from where they lay. Clearly, Bailey hadn't imagined it. She still didn't know how he'd known, but he had. Another shot blew a second hole through the galvanized steel near them. God, she hoped Jack didn't have an infrared sight... though if he did, the remains of the fire might throw him off. The noise level lessened as the helicopter throttled back its engine. She felt Bailey stiffen.

"Damn, they don't know!" He let go of her and began to inch his way toward the opening.

Dana grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"He'll kill you if you go out there!" she hissed.

He looked at her, his face expressionless. "He'll kill them if I don't."

She stared back, seeing his choices, knowing her own. There weren't many. She sighed, nodded, and let go. "Be careful."

He shrugged. "Stay put."

He edged toward the sunlight again. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see, then opened them again, unable to stop herself. He moved into a crouch, like a sprinter in the blocks, then dove into the open.

* * *

"There's it is!" Mulder pointed, gazing down at the shed with the target on it. "And I can see someone down there," he lifted the binoculars to his eyes, and focused. "I can almost... Yes! It's Scully!"

Sam yanked the binoculars out of his hands and peered down at the scene through them. "What about... oh, thank God! He looks okay."

Mulder, having been dragged practically into her lap by the binocular strap around his neck, grabbed them back from her and straightened. "I would have told you he was okay if you'd just given me a minute," he said with offended dignity.

"Sorry," she said, and actually looked as if she meant it. "I was just worried." She turned and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. "Park this thing! We've found them!"

They started to descend. Mulder adjusted the binoculars and looked down again. Scully was staring at them, and she raised a hand, waving, a huge smile on her face. Suddenly there was a blur of motion, and she disappeared from sight. He dropped the glasses and looked at the scene bare-eyed, just in time to see two figures disappearing into the shed.

"What the hell?" he asked, puzzled.

Sam had seen it too. "He just tackled her and they rolled into the shed." She looked as confused as Mulder felt. "He can't think we're Jack, can he?"

Mulder shook his head. "No way. Not with an FBI logo three feet wide on the tail of this thing."

The copter settled to the ground with a slight bounce, and the pilot throttled back, slowing the rotors. Mulder threw open the door and hit the ground running, just as Malone reappeared, crouched low as he moved close to the side of the cage nearest the aircraft.

"Get back!" Malone yelled, gesturing toward the chopper. "Shooter!" he pointed toward the thick tree-line east of the shed. As if to punctuate his words, there was a sharp crack of sound and Malone spun, and fell.

"Bailey!"

The cry was in stereo, seeming to come from both in front of, and behind him. Startled, Mulder turned to find that Sam had followed him out. Her shocked gaze was fixed on Malone, and she was just standing there like a huge 'shoot me' sign. Mulder pushed her to the ground and waved back John Grant, who was leaning out of the door.

"There's a shooter in the trees east of the target building!" he yelled. "See if you can scare him off, and we'll get to cover."

Almost before he finished speaking, he heard the copter's engine throttle up and it began to lift. He looked around, saw that the shed was the closest thing to shelter available, and he crawled toward it, pulling Sam behind him. They made it behind the shed as the chopper roared away toward the trees. Sam started to sit up, but he pushed her back down again.

"Look," he pointed at the bullet holes in the metal wall in front of them, obvious even through the screen of chain-link fencing and barbed wire.. "He's using something high-powered, and this place isn't much protection. Stay down!"

"I have to see if Bailey's all right!" she said mulishly, still struggling.

"Stay put!" Bailey ordered in a loud and extremely irritated tone, though his voice was muffled slightly by the metal between them. He'd obviously made it back into the shed. Sam closed her eyes in obvious relief, and she made a furtive motion with one hand that looked suspiciously like a cross. He lifted his eyebrows and she gave him a glare worthy of Scully. Speaking of whom... he lifted up a little to speak in the direction of one of the bullet holes in the wall.

"Scully? You okay?"

"I'm fine, Mulder, just be careful. We don't need you getting shot too."

Too? So, Malone was hit. He hoped it wasn't anything serious or Sam Waters was going to be a basket case. It dawned on him that he hadn't heard any more shots. He looked at the woman on the ground beside him.

"It seems quiet."

"I know. Give it a few more. We don't need to take chances."

He nodded, and they waited. Five minutes passed. Ten. Nothing. He looked at Sam.

"Think we scared him off?"

"Either that, or he thinks he got what he wanted. He saw Bailey go down, and thinks he's dead."

Mulder nodded. "Either way, he's gone."

"Yes, I think so." She sighed. "Sorry about this. I don't usually do the guns-blazing part, I'm not very good at it."

Mulder shrugged. "Not everyone is." He sat up, tentatively, and pitched his voice loud enough that he was sure they could hear him inside the shed. "Scully? We think he's gone, and we're going to come around now."

"Mulder?"

He paused, on his knees. "Yeah, Scully?

"There's a pair of bolt cutters hung on the dog-run just north of us. Be careful, though. Jack likes to rig things."

"Will do."

Getting to his feet, he went to the north edge of the building and peered around the corner. The bolt cutters were exactly where she'd said they were. He dug in his pocket and found the wad of latex gloves he'd stuck in there back at the track in Birmingham. He separated two of them from the clump and drew them on. He didn't want to chance messing up any possible evidence left on the bolt-cutters, though it wasn't likely Jack would have left anything. Mulder stepped out into the open space between the runs, holding his breath, ready to dive back into cover.

No one took a shot at him. Cautiously, he crossed the ten yards to the other run, and examined the cutters. He didn't see any trip wires, or other booby-trap fixings. With great care, he eased the handle out from between the wires of the fence. He thought about Scully, trapped in that cage, with these just out of reach, and would have clenched his fists if they hadn't been occupied. Sam came up beside him.

"They've been there the whole time?"

Mulder nodded. "Probably longer, actually. There's rust on them." He tried the cutters. They resisted, he persevered, until finally, with a squeal, they moved. "They'll work. Come on."

Feeling vulnerable with his back to the trees, he maneuvered the cutters around the chain that padlocked the gate of the cage. As he did, the chopper settled in behind him, between him and the shooter's line of fire... if he was still out there. That helped. He closed the cutters, and the chain fell free. Dropping the cutters, he opened the gate, and without the screen of wire between them, saw Scully kneeling inside the shelter, very close to Malone.

An odd feeling spread through him, and he glanced at Sam to find she was regarding the scene with a slight, and familiar frown. She looked up, their eyes met, and she made a face, then looked away. Feeling unaccountably abrasive, he let his sense of humor get the better of him, and he whistled and snapped his fingers.

"Here, Scully. Come on, girl."

Sam gasped, her expression shocked and offended. "Mulder!"

There was a moment of silence from inside the shed, then Scully looked up and he could feel her glare from where he stood. If he'd been any closer, he'd have spontaneously combusted.

"Mulder," his partner said, her voice deadly calm. "If Jack doesn't shoot you, I will. Now, if there's a first aid kit in that chopper, bring it here."

Suddenly wishing he could take back the comment, Mulder turned and jogged back to the helicopter. Grant and Brubaker were already out of the machine, Findley was on his way, and Alvarez was bringing up the rear. He leaned into the craft, blocking her exit.

"Scully's asking for a first-aid kit, is there one aboard?"

She nodded and grabbed a case that sat next to her seat, jumping out to dash toward the cage with it, bypassing him completely. He stood there for a moment feeling useless, then headed back with the rest of the herd. What the hell was the matter with him? He ought to be elated. They'd found Scully and Malone alive, but suddenly the only thing he could think of was how close the two had looked there in the shed.

He stopped in mid-stride, as it suddenly dawned on him what was going on. For the past four years he'd been pretty much the only person in Scully's life... well, except maybe Skinner, and he was the boss so he didn't count. Day-in, day-out, they worked together for eight or more hours, often they ate together, they practically slept together. Now she'd just spent almost three days alone with someone else, in a circumstance which held overtones of intimacy and interdependence that work-related situations just didn't have. He was jealous. The idea of it sort of amazed him. He continued on to the cage, still chewing on the realization. As he stepped into the enclosure, he heard Scully's voice.

"Lie still, damn it," she said exasperatedly, "...or I'll sit on you."

"Promises, promises." Malone replied, in an amused voice.

Mulder was close enough now to see what was going on. Malone was on the floor of the shed, Scully at his side, both hands clamped around his left forearm. Her hands and his sleeve were covered with blood. Grace Alvarez had the medical kit open and was rummaging in it, taking out various items. The blood impinged on him, finally. He suddenly felt sick at the realization of just how close this had been. If Jack had been a slightly better shot, Scully might be lying there. She might be... no. He refused to even consider that. Hadn't Clyde Bruckman told her she'd never die? He preferred to believe that the homely seer's joke was reality.

He looked at Sam Waters, standing just inside the shed, staring down at Malone with a strange mixture of emotions plain on her face. Her eyes held the telltale shimmer of withheld tears, but her mouth was set in a quizzical grimace. He watched her gaze go from Malone, to Scully, and back, and he almost laughed as he realized what was going on. She was experiencing pretty much the same thing he just had. She must have sensed his gaze on her, because she looked up just then. He gave her an understanding smile, and she frowned, then flushed, and looked away.

Mulder edged his way past the others to squat down next to Scully. He touched her shoulder, and only then did she look up from her patient. Her eyes narrowed in irritation as she saw who it was, and he knew she'd not soon forgive him for the 'here, girl' comment. He mouthed "Sorry" at her. She stared at him for a moment, then nodded curtly. He nodded toward Malone.

"How bad?"

She shook her head. "Not very. The bullet nicked, but didn't penetrate. Still, it's too close to an artery for my peace of mind. We want to make sure there are no problems." She looked back at Malone, and suddenly her eyes narrowed. "What's... is that a medic-alert bracelet, Bailey?"

Malone nodded. "I'm allergic to penicillin. Don't worry, Dana, it's nothing that should affect what you're doing."

Mulder stiffened. First names? They were using first names? Already?

Scully nodded. "Good, just making sure. You'll probably want to have your own physician give you some antibiotics for it, just in case."

"Okay, ready now," Alvarez announced, a roll of gauze in her hand. "Let's get that cleaned up. Bail, I hope you'll forgive my technique, my patients aren't usually still moving."

Malone smiled, if a little thinly. "So long as I'm still moving when you finish, I'll forgive you."

Alvarez laughed. "Well, I think I can at least promise you that."

Mulder decided it was time to be somewhere else, and he stood up, moving out into the graveled area, where John and Nathan were starting to organize a search of the property for possible clues. That seemed like a good way to occupy himself until Scully was finished.

* * *

Sam looked around the table, relieved to have Bailey back at its head. Dana Scully sat just to his left, and Fox Mulder was between her and George. They seemed to fit there so naturally that it was a little disconcerting. She'd been prepared to like neither of them, and had ended up liking both of them, though Mulder would have to earn back some respect after his completely uncalled for behavior out at the crime scene. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what had prompted his remark. It was strange to realize just how possessive she felt about Bailey Malone. Not that she was romantically interested in him... really, or... no. Definitely not. But, there was some part of her which considered that he belonged to her. Interesting thought.

Bailey cleared his throat and looked at her impatiently. She blinked, coming back from her brief foray into fantasy, and hoped to heaven she wasn't blushing. Just in case, she turned and pointed up at the display screen, with its photos of evidence from Jack's latest strike.

"So, to sum up, we have several new items to add to Jack's file that may eventually help us find him. He's had medical training of some kind, as evidenced by his use of anaesthetic, and curare. Also, he has to have a source for a relatively unusual type of rose which we may be able to trace. While we have confirmed that the developer of that rose has no connection to the case, the fact that Jack uses that particular rose indicates that the word or concept of 'taboo' is likely to have a bearing on his psychosis."

She turned back to face them, certain she was under control now. "We also now know that he plans extensively, perhaps even for months, before executing his schemes. All these things may be very helpful in identifying him. Our last piece of evidence is this." She nodded to George, who executed a command on his computer and magnified the image of Dana Scully's face, with it's prominent "U" shaped bruise. "He wears a ring with this symbol on it."

She saw several people glance at the redhead, who seemed quite unperturbed that her face was being projected in extreme closeup. She must not get zits, Sam thought sourly. Bailey's finger unconsciously traced the same area on his own cheek as if he, not Scully, bore the bruise. She forced herself to ignore that, and went to her conclusion. "Let's get to work researching this stuff, and see if we can't track this guy down. I feel like we're getting close." With that, she sat down.

John leaned over and gave her a thumbs-up sign. "Let's get the bastard!"

Bailey stood up. "I think that's about all there is to say, and frankly, I could use about twenty-four hours of sleep. I'll see you all in the morning." He turned and headed for his office.

Sam heard Nathan muttering about people who didn't take time off even after being kidnapped and shot. She hid a smile and started to gather her things. Mulder was also picking up files and putting them in his briefcase. Scully stood for a moment, then, with a decisive expression, she headed after Bailey. Sam found herself watching covertly as the red-head stopped him at his office door with a hand on his arm. She noticed that Scully's hand stayed there for a few moments longer than necessary before she moved it. They stood close. Not so close as to cause comment, but Sam knew Bailey and she knew where the edges of his personal 'space' were. Dana Scully was definitely inside it, and he wasn't moving away.

They conferred for a moment, then Scully nodded, though she didn't look pleased. Bailey bent and whispered something, which caused a slow and very secretive smile to curve her mouth. She nodded again, still smiling, and moved away, coming back toward the conference room. Sam hastily grabbed papers and shoved them into a pile, all the while wondering exactly what had gone on in that cage. Not that she needed to know. Or really wanted to. It was just incredibly hard not to wonder.

* * *

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