Value & Honor
by Forte
(Forte1354@aol.com)

Please see Chapter 1 for rating, summary, disclaimer, etc.


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- Chapter 5b -

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2630 Hegal Place
Apartment 42
7:35 p.m.


"Damn it," Mulder muttered.  "Scully..."

Mulder moved backwards toward his desk, keeping his SIG aimed at
Crawford, stepping carefully to avoid the spilled mail, food, dry
cleaning, and parts of his cell phone.  When he felt himself bump
into his desk chair, he reached for the phone on the corner of the
desk. The receiver greeted him with the unmistakable screech of a
line in use by a modem.  He then noticed the laptop computer sitting
on the corner of the desk.

"What are you doing, Kurt?" he demanded.  "Uploading or downloading?
 What are you connected to?"

Crawford paled.  "You'll break the connection -- put the phone down,
Agent Mul -- "

"ANSWER ME!"

As though in response to Mulder's outburst, the door of his
apartment flew open.  In the ensuing blur of action, too quick for
Mulder's dulled reflexes, Crawford scooped up both his gun and the
gimlet and pointed the gun at the new entrant.

And suddenly he and Scully were pointing their guns at each other,
and Mulder's was on Crawford, the phone receiver forgotten on the
desk.

"Drop your weapon!" Scully commanded, her eyes never leaving
Crawford, but flicking to take in the gimlet in his left hand. 
"Both of them!"

Mulder took three steps toward the hybrid.  "Kurt, what the hell are
you doing?"

Crawford addressed Scully, still clutching his gun tightly.  "Come
into the light, slowly."

"I said, what the =hell= are you doing?" Mulder repeated, louder,
and moved even closer, until he was within six feet of both Crawford
and Scully, each now a point of their human triangle.

All three stood motionless for several tense seconds.  Mulder had a
sudden sense of deja vu, recalling a similar standoff between
Scully, him, and Skinner when he'd returned from New Mexico -- and
the dead -- years earlier.

The silence was finally broken by Crawford.  "If you're Agent
Scully, then you know you can't shoot me.  You'd find my blood to be
quite disagreeable to you if you did."

"What do you mean, =if= she's Scully?" Mulder asked, his jaw
clenching.

Crawford ignored him.  "Come.  Into.  The.  Light," he repeated.  "I
need to know that you're not one of them."

Mulder started to consider the possibility that Crawford had brought
up: perhaps it =wasn't= really Scully that stood before them.  He
tried to remember how long it had been since he'd been speaking with
her.  Could she have gotten from her apartment to his so quickly? 
Could this be one of... ?

Scully interrupted his thoughts.  "How do I know you're not one of
the shape shifters?" she asked Crawford, then nodded towards Mulder.
 "How do you know =he= isn't?"

*Could a shapeshifter have perfected that tone of voice?* Mulder
wondered.  *God, I hope not.  Please, Scully, let this be you.*

While he struggled with those thoughts, Crawford responded to her. 
"That's why I want to see you in the light.  I already know he
isn't."

Mulder considered his alternatives, then took a step towards
Crawford. "Give it to me," he ordered, holding out his left hand,
gesturing toward the gimlet in Crawford's left.

It took a moment for a stunned Crawford to find his voice.  His eyes
darted to Mulder quickly before returning to Scully.  "=What?="

"You just said you know I'm not one of them.  Show me you trust me
and give me the damn thing.  If that's not really Scully, I know
what to do with it."

Scully's jaw dropped open, then shut again before she echoed
Mulder's earlier words.  "Mulder, what the hell are you doing?"

Mulder kept his gun trained on Crawford, but directed his words to
the one he hoped and prayed was his partner.  "Trust me, Scully."

Scully glanced down at the floor, at the scattered mail, the broken
bits of cell phone, the small dark smear of -- *blood?* -- on the
floor, and started having her own doubts.  Was the man before her
Mulder?  Or was her partner really hidden from her view, perhaps
lying injured in his bedroom?  She remembered a Mulder who once came
to her motel room who turned out to not really be Mulder, and winced
inwardly at the recollection of crashing through a glass-topped
table.  She kept Crawford in her peripheral vision, ready to shoot
if he moved a muscle, and peered back over at the one who =looked=
like her partner.  He'd shifted his eyes toward her, and in those
eyes she saw the spark of realization -- he understood her
apprehension.

He reached behind his head to the gash where Crawford had struck
him, and came back with blood-dampened fingers.  He held his hand
out to her.  In the dim light, the dark red color made it look like
he'd dipped his fingers in thin chocolate syrup -- *like the shower
scene in "Psycho"* her memory supplied, unbidden.  She swallowed
back the sour taste that rose in her throat, threatening to choke
her.  *Oh, Mulder... *

"It's me, Scully," he pleaded.

Eyes locked on his, she nodded.

Crawford shifted his eyes from Scully, to Mulder, and back to Scully
again.  Finally, grudgingly, he offered the unsheathed weapon to
Mulder, who switched his gun to his left hand and took the gimlet
with his right.  Mulder kept his eye on the hybrid but addressed his
next comments to Scully.

"Put your gun down, Scully.  If he's one of them, I've got him
covered --"

Crawford tensed; Mulder hastened to add for his benefit, "-- and if
=she's= one of them, I've got =her= covered."

Scully looked at her partner, but his eyes were again focused on
Crawford.  She closed her eyes for an instant.  *I trust you,
Mulder.*  Knowing Mulder could see her movements in the corner of
his eye, she slowly knelt, placed her gun on the floor, and
straightened again.

And then they stood, motionless, soundless, for what seemed an
eternity.

Finally Crawford spoke again, his voice low.  "Now come into the
light, Agent Scully."

Mulder backed up two steps, giving his blessing.  Scully advanced
two cautious steps of her own into the dim light cast by the
streetlamps behind Mulder's building.

Almost immediately, Crawford let out a sigh and held up his left
hand in a submissive gesture.  "My apologies, Agent Scully.  I had
to be sure it was you."

"Give her the gun," Mulder ordered.

Crawford relaxed, consciously avoiding any sudden movement, then
extended and turned his hand to offer the grip of the gun to Scully.
 Still without taking her eyes from his, she took the weapon,
flicked on the safety, and tucked it in the back waistband of her
jeans.  She knelt to retrieve her own weapon, eyes narrowing as she
continued to watch Crawford, then stood and holstered the SIG.  She
backed towards the entry door, shut and locked it, and gave silent
thanks that the neighbors had apparently chosen to ignore their loud
exchange.

"All right, what the hell is going on?" Scully asked, advancing back
into the room.  Mulder finally holstered his own gun and slipped the
sheathed gimlet into his pocket.  "Mulder, are you all right?"  She
stopped an arm's length away from him.

Mulder nodded, then winced, his fingers flying to the back of his
head.  "Yeah.  Mostly."

He looked at her, watching him, and suddenly realized that she was
dressed casually: jeans and a soft-looking blue scoop-neck sweater.

"Scully," he said, staring, as though he were having an epiphany,
"you're wearing jeans."

Scully stared back at him, and Mulder got the sudden, uncomfortable
feeling that that had been an inappropriate comment.   he considered, dropping his
hand back down to his side and wiping it absently on his own jeans.

And then Scully was at his side, steering him to a seated position
on his couch.  As she passed Crawford, she gave him an annoyed look
that told him "I'll deal with you next."

Scully examined her partner for head trauma with one gentle, skilled
hand while the other cradled his chin.  "What happened, Mulder?" she
asked softly.

"The Welcome Wagon played a little rough."

"I'm sorry," Crawford spoke up.  "I didn't mean to -- "

Mulder waved a hand, cutting him off.  "Forget it.  You did what you
had to do."  He winced again as Scully continued to palpate his
skull, looking for signs of injury beyond the obvious gash.  "I'll
be okay, Scully."

Scully leaned closer to check his pupils.  "Looks all right," she
murmured, nodding her agreement with him.  She smoothed the hair on
the uninjured side of his head, then straightened, moving her hands
to her hips.  Mulder missed their heat, but settled for the warmth
of her eyes as she looked down, still regarding him with concern.

Scully had maneuvered herself so that her back was to Crawford, and
the hybrid could see neither her nor Mulder's face.  She mouthed to
her partner: *You're sure it's him?*

*Yeah* he mouthed back.

She gave a tiny nod before speaking again.  "Let me get you some ice
for the back of your head."

"It's okay, Scully, I can wait --"

She started to turn toward the kitchen, unwilling to accept an
argument.  "Mulder, you need --"

Mulder grabbed her wrist.

"=Scully=."  She gave him a don't-mess-with-me look, but he cut her
off before she could say anything.  "He thinks they've found
Scanlon."

Scully's mouth dropped, then snapped shut.  Mulder released her
wrist.  She turned sharply to Crawford.  "Where is he?"

"We're not certain of his exact location.  We're narrowed it down to
a certain city."

"=Where=?"

The hybrid cleared his throat.  "I'd rather not be specific, just
yet. But I need to bring you both there."

"Why?" she pressed.   "Why should we go with you if you won't tell
us where it is?  Why should we trust you?"

Crawford paused, as though deciding how much to reveal.  "We have
sources," he said finally.  "Anonymous.  In the research world.  A
month ago we received verification from one of our sources about Dr.
Scanlon.  That information led us to re-establish ourselves -- our
research -- in a certain city.  Scanlon is one of the keys to saving
the women who have not yet succumbed to the cancer, and we need to
stay as close to him as we can."

"And you believe this anonymous source?"  Scully asked, frowning.

"It's provided us with reliable information in the past," Crawford
replied.  He waved his hand toward his laptop on Mulder's desk. 
"I've been downloading information from various sites on the
Internet," he continued.  "Supplementing our own research from what
we can find from other... established organizations.  Other
researchers, including those in academia."  A tiny, triumphant smile
flashed over his face.  "Not that they necessarily realize that
they're sharing."  His face returned to its serious cast.  "Dr.
Scanlon appears to have developed a new gene therapy technique that
controls the development of cancerous cells."  He gestured toward
Scully with his chin.  "This technique may be an evolution of the
chip in your neck, Agent Scully.  The information that I'm
downloading may corroborate what we believe he's accomplished."  He
picked up the phone receiver and returned it to its cradle.  "Well,
I =was= downloading," he corrected ruefully.  "From one of your more
prestigious medical journals."

"So if you've found Scanlon and established yourself in this new
area," Mulder asked, "why did you come to DC to see us?"

"Seeing is believing?"  Crawford shrugged.  "How should I have
contacted you, Agent Mulder?  Would you have believed that it was
one of us if you couldn't see for yourself?"

Mulder nodded to indicate his agreement with Crawford's logic.

"But you can't tell us exactly where this location is?" Scully
persisted, exasperation clear in her voice.  The anger she'd kept
contained for so long -- years -- was rapidly coming to the surface
again.  Was it just that afternoon that she'd been wrestling with
those demons?

Crawford ran his hand over the phone receiver.  "Think of us as an
island unto ourselves.  We have our facility, our equipment, our
supplies.  Where we are at any given point in time is wherever we
need to be."

"Enough with this oblique crap!" Scully snapped.  "You still haven't
told us what you want."  Did she really care what he wanted?  What
about what =she= wanted?  Someone owed her answers.  About weeks
missing from her memory.  The damned chip. The cancer.  Emily.



"I started to tell Agent Mulder before you arrived, Agent Scully,"
Crawford responded.  He stood across from Mulder and Scully on the
opposite side of the coffee table and lowered his voice so that it
was just above a whisper.

"I said Scanlon is one of the keys, Agent Scully.  You are another. 
Although you're the only one left from the group in Allentown, there
=are= more women like you.  There are MUFON chapters in Europe;
women from those groups have been taken and given chips too.  Women
who haven't had their chips removed yet.  And some who have.  We
can't let them all die.  We just =can't=," he said grimly.

"Can't let them die?  Why should I believe that?  Where were you
when I was in a hospital, dying?" Scully's voice shook with fury. 
"Where the hell have you been for the past year and a half?"

"Scully..." Mulder murmured.

"Where were you when they put this =thing= in my neck in the first
place?"  she shouted.  "Where were you when they created Emily?" 
Crawford stood mute.  "ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!"

"Agent Scully," he said quietly, "we didn't =exist= when the child
was created, nor..." he gave her a meaningful look, "when the chip
was put in your neck."

Scully stared back at him, dumbfounded.  After a minute of silence
had passed, she found her voice.  "What exactly are you telling me?"

The hybrid said nothing.

Scully recalled Mulder's words in her brother's home, after Emily's
custody hearing.

<"... children were being created">

Oh God. Kurt Crawford was created, too.

Trembling, Scully turned to face her partner.  "You knew about
this?"

He winced at her faltering voice.  "When I met... all of the Kurts
at the Lombard facility, I was told that the abducted women were
their mothers.  They didn't mention specific names."  He met her
hurt gaze with a pained one.  "I won't tell you I never considered
it.  But how could I tell you something like that when it was pure
speculation?"

Scully sat next to Mulder with a dull *thud* and buried her face in
her hands, resting her elbows on her knees.  Mulder and Crawford
both watched her anxiously until she lifted her head to face
Crawford again.

"What is it you want?" she whispered.  Mulder laid a gentle hand on
her back.

"Come to our lab," Crawford implored.  "See our work with your own
eyes.  Help us help them." 

"Help you with your research?"

"Yes, but not as a scientist," he replied.  "We need -- "

"You're not using her as some fucking guinea pig!" Mulder exploded. 
He leapt up, but almost immediately fell back down onto the couch
again, head spinning.

"We don't want to experiment on her," Crawford assured them both. 
"Just draw some blood and perform tests on that.  Agent Scully, you
are the only one so far who has gone into remission.  We want to try
to chemically replicate whatever caused that remission to save the
other women.  Between an analysis of Dr. Scanlon's new research and
a study of your blood chemistry -- "

"I've had numerous blood tests since I went into remission," Scully
interrupted.  "Nothing unusual has turned up."

"We have the ability to conduct more sophisticated, thorough testing
than any hospital or laboratory you could visit."

Scully realized that she didn't doubt it.

"Remission doesn't just happen by magic, Agent Scully," Crawford
said. "Surely you know that better than anyone.  There was some
biological reason for your cancer's progress being stopped so
suddenly.  We need to find out what that factor was, and how Dr.
Scanlon has learned to manipulate it, so we can duplicate it."

"I don't know what exactly caused my remission," Scully said
quietly.  "The new chip, the treatment I was undergoing at the time,
or..."  She trailed off without finishing, unable to speak words
mentioning her prayer to this particular audience.  Mulder placed
his hand on her back again; she could feel him watching her with
concern.

"Nevertheless, some process took place that we want to be able to
replicate," Crawford said firmly.  "Before it's too late for the
others.  Before it's too late for you."

Scully had not yet absorbed Crawford's last remark when Mulder
roared, "What do you mean, before it's too late for her?"

The hybrid looked from Mulder's enraged face to Scully's frightened
one.  "We know that you were... injured... at Ruskin Dam.  Tell me,
Agent Scully, which is worse -- having cancer, or not knowing when
you might be called away against your will again?"  He leaned closer
to her.  "Don't you see?  If we can save them by finding a cure for
the cancer, we can save you.  We can save you from that chip in your
neck."

Scully stiffened as she pictured other women suffering from the
cancer as she had.  Dying, like Penny Northern and the other
Allentown women had.  She tried without success to push Penny's
deathbed face from her mind.  But then it morphed into her own face,
the face that sometimes visited her in nightmares, the near-death
face of the Dana Scully that would have been had her cancer not gone
into remission. The Dana Scully that could still be, if she ever
removed the chip.  She was sick, so sick of hospitals and
medications and tests...

"What if I say no?"

"We're not going to force you, Agent Scully," Crawford said quietly. 
"We want you to do this of your own free will."  He smiled sadly. 
"Ironic, isn't it?  You were forced into your current medical state
quite against your own free will.  As were the other women we are
still trying to help."  He paused.  "I know you value your own life,
Agent Scully.  Do you value theirs?"

She blanched.  "Of course I do."

"Then come with me.  Both of you.  Agent Mulder, you've seen our
lab.  Did you tell Agent Scully about it?"

Scully answered for her partner.  "He told me about all of you.  He
told me about the tanks.  He told me about the ova being kept in
cold storage."  Suddenly her eyes opened wide.  "Oh my God," she
exhaled.  "Do you still have them?"



She waited a breathless eternity before Crawford shook his head. 
"I'm sorry," he murmured.  "After the incident at Lombard, we were
forced to abandon virtually everything in our haste to leave." 
Scully stared back at the hybrid, stunned, unable to move.  She felt
Mulder's warm hand moving in small circles on her back, but
otherwise was devoid of sensation.

Crawford took three steps backwards.  "I'll be back in touch
tomorrow morning."  While Scully continued to stare at him, he
packed up his laptop, then retrieved a bundled-up raincoat from a
chair in the corner.  As he lifted it, it unrolled, and a few thin
streams of water cascaded off of it onto the floor.  "Sorry," he
shrugged.

"Where are you going?" Mulder asked.

"I can't stay here any longer, Agent Mulder," Crawford replied.  "If
they've determined that I've come to Washington, this is the first
place they'll look for me.  It will be safer for all of us if I
leave now."  He paused.  "I'll need my... belongings back."

Mulder ceased the motion of his hand on his partner's back and
looked over at her.  She blinked twice before turning her pale,
expressionless face to meet his gaze.  After a few moments she
cleared her throat, sat up straighter.  In silent agreement, they
returned Crawford's weapons.

He pocketed the gun and gimlet, nodding his acknowledgment of their
trust, and repeated, "I'll be in touch tomorrow morning."

And then he was gone.

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Crawford left through the building's back door, the same way as he
had entered.  As he walked away, his eyes darted back and forth,
watching for any vehicles that might follow him.  There were none.

None that followed him.

But two figures in a dark sedan watched him retreat into the night.


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- end Chapter 5 -

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Feedback is cherished at Forte1354@aol.com or bjm1352@aol.com.


AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Have I mentioned lately how wonderful my beta reader
is?  I haven't?  Shame on me.  This story is infinitely (gasp! 
adverb! ) better than it would have been without her influence.
Take a bow, Jintian.  You deserve it.  :)