Copyright:  Thursday, March 10, 2005 09:21:47 PM       PARADISE ISLAND ATLANTIC OCEAN LATE AFTERNOON - DAY 5               Scully couldn’t help wondering, as she fumbled for a rocky handhold, whether she’d ever be allowed to stop climbing this wretched mountainside. She felt like Sisyphus, doomed to push a massive boulder uphill for all eternity. Deja-vu on steroids. Some days, it simply didn’t pay to climb out of bed!           Damn Krycek--and damn the evil Syndicate for their treacherous genetic experiments! Poor Esther didn’t stand a chance against a trained supersoldier!           Mulder grabbed her wrist, and swung her over a patch of loose shale. She kept her balance with an ease born of long experience, and briskly nodded her thanks. Without pausing for breath, they rapidly continued up the sheer slope.           The spores’ cave was only a few hundred feet above them now. Everything seemed quiet, serene as they scaled the last patch of tumbled boulders. Were they too late? Would they find Esther’s sprawled, lifeless body inside that green-hued cavern?           Weapons drawn, they burst into the shadowed clearing. Hot sunlight beat down on the dusty ground. Overhead, a curious parrot watched them with bright golden eyes, and shook its long wings. Clear water bubbled musically from the darkened cave mouth, and trickled down the hillside behind them.           "Agent Mulder? Agent Scully?" Esther’s cautious whisper made them whirl toward the nearby low-lying bushes. Her quavering voice had never sounded more welcome as they holstered their guns, and hurried to her side.           "Thank goodness you’re safe." Mulder kept a cautious overwatch while Scully bent down to examine the old woman’s swollen ankle. "We were afraid you’d be hiding in the cave."           Despite her pain, Esther sent him a sharp, penetrating look. "Afraid?"           Scully tried to divert her attention by aiming a reassuring nod at her partner. "Nothing looks broken. Let’s get her over to the stream. The cool water will reduce this swelling."           But the canny old woman wasn’t so easily distracted. "Why did you say afraid?" she insisted, as they looped supportive arms around her broad waist, and helped her hobble into the blinding sunlight.           Mulder ignored her question. "Have you seen anyone else since Reuben left you here?" he urged.           She settled onto a low rock, tugged her shoe off, and thrust her aching foot into the water. A soft hiss of relief escaped her as the pain subsided. "Reuben wanted me to hide in the cave, in case there were more assassins around. But I couldn’t," she confessed, a puzzled expression on her plump face. "You know how sometimes, for no reason at all, you get this gut feeling that warns you not to do something? That’s how I felt. Like something horrible would happen to me if I went in."           The agents exchanged somber, knowing glances. If Krycek was still inside, and Esther had stumbled upon him unawares...           Could the spores have warned her somehow?           Mulder laid a reassuring hand on her rounded shoulder. "You did the right thing. Always listen to your instincts, Esther."           Hollow, stumbling footsteps suddenly echoed from the dark tunnel. He whipped around, and yanked his 9mm free. Instinctively Scully closed the gap, blocking Esther from possible danger.           Krycek blearily staggered from the dappled shadows. His youthful face was haggard with intense fatigue. He looked, Mulder thought as he took careful aim, like a man who’d endured the burning flames of hell.  And survived to tell about it.           The assassin’s glazed eyes slid blankly past them. Then some faint trace of awareness returned, and he slowly focused on his former partner. "I died in there, Mulder," he rasped in a hoarse whisper. "Just like you did."           His right hand was curled around his left biceps, where the prosthetic arm was cleverly joined to his elbow. "It worked. I can feel pain again!" Dazed wonder flitted across his face. For one brief moment, the years seemed to fall away, leaving him heartbreakingly young and innocent. "Mulder, it worked!"           Scully felt her partner’s taut muscles slowly relaxing. She swallowed the lump in her own aching throat, and slowly tucked her 9mm back into its worn holster. Someday, she was certain, Alex Krycek would return. And when that day came, they would have to deal with his treachery all over again. But for now, she could no more pull the trigger than she could have harmed a defenseless kitten.           Silently she watched their longtime enemy stumble away, his dull eyes glazed with shock and exhaustion. There, but for the grace of God, go I. She knew Mulder echoed her troubled thoughts as a shudder rippled down his long spine. Instinctively she laid a comforting hand on his sunburned arm.           "Agent Mulder?" Bewildered, Esther struggled to her feet behind them. "Are we safe now?"           "Until next time." Mulder stared pensively down the hillside for another moment, and slowly shook his head. "God willing, that day will never come." Then he blinked a few times, and seemed to snap back. "How’s your ankle?"           Scully wished she could dismiss her own clinging nightmares so easily. Bending, she laid questing fingers against the old woman’s skin. "The swelling’s completely gone. You should be fine now, Esther."           "That fast?" Awe transformed Esther’s round face as she gingerly put weight on her injured foot. "You’re right, it doesn’t hurt at all now! If we could take this water home with us, we’d make a fortune!"           Mulder soberly shook his head. "The world’s not ready for what we’ve found here. Not yet--not until we can safeguard this discovery against people who’d use it for their own gain." People like Alex Krycek and the treacherous Syndicate.           Esther’s reluctant nod was filled with frustration. "But soon, yes? In the right hands, it could be used for so much good!"           Mulder forced a wan smile. "Soon," he promised. "Soon."           Then he glanced up at the late afternoon sun. "Everyone’s accounted for now, so we’d better head back down. Hewitt and his Marines will be ready to leave soon."           "Mulder..." Scully laid a restraining hand on his arm, and canted her head toward the rounded mountaintop towering behind them. "First I need to show you something important that I found on the other side, near the catacombs." • • • • • •           "Dammit, Mulder, it was right here!" Scully stamped her foot on the dusty ground, and swept her arms out in a wide circle. "I’m sure of it! Look, there’s where I slipped and scraped my knee! Where the hell did it go?"           Mulder bent to examine the slanting hillside beneath their feet. Even through the lengthening dusky shadows, Scully’s footprints were clearly visible. He could see where she’d braced one hand, then pushed herself upright after falling. A scrap of cloth from Esther’s long skirt was caught on a nearby twig. Reuben’s thinner shoes had left shallow gouges that even a novice could follow.           No big, irregular holes broke the surface; no trailing vines softened the angular slope. Nothing suggested that a cave entrance had been right beneath them--except that all their footprints originated from that one point. As if they’d been dropped there by some unearthly force. Which was impossible, even on this bizarre island.           Desperation darkened Scully’s blue eyes as she dropped to her knees and scrabbled at the wispy grass with both hands. "It was here, Mulder!" she insisted over one shoulder. "I just can’t understand it!"           Mulder bent down, and caught her dirty hands in a tight grip. "Tell me again exactly what you saw, Scully."           She scowled in frustration. "I was searching for Max," she repeated, struggling to contain her growing impatience. "His tracks led up a narrow, winding tunnel. When I reached the end, I saw that he’d climbed out through a big hole in the ceiling. I went back to tell Reuben and Esther that he was gone, then I retraced my steps.           "There were vines hanging down through the hole, thick ones like outside our cave. When I grabbed one and started to pull myself up, that’s when I felt the wall humming!"           Mulder slowly nodded. "So of course you had to investigate," he surmised. "I’d have done the same."           Scully briefly closed her eyes, recalling every detail in that tiny sunlit cave. "There was a rock nearby, buried in the dirt," she murmured. "I used it to break a section of the wall."           Renewed desperation suddenly twisted her face again, and she glanced wildly around. "Mulder, it has to be here somewhere!" she insisted. "You have to see it! It was a machine, an artificial construct of some sort. And it’s been buried there for God knows how many millennia!"           Her partner’s eyes narrowed. "How do you know that, Scully?" he demanded, tightening his grip. "How could you tell?"           The frenzy in her eyes slowly died away as he forced her to think logically again. Sighing, she wearily settled back on her heels. "It was made of metal, Mulder," she admitted. "Not iron or steel, or any of the compounds that we’ve developed. It was the same kind of metal I examined in Africa, when you were hospitalized. The same metal in Dr. Barnes’ artifacts."           Excitement began to pound through Mulder’s veins. "There were markings on it?" he urged, straightening. "Could you translate them?"           As if, she thought with a trace of resentment, she was an expert alien linguist. Her frantic trip to Africa had proved useless, posing more questions than it had answered. Nothing she’d learned there had helped Mulder recover from that deadly coma. Its only outcome had been to throw her own lifelong beliefs further into doubt and turmoil.           "There were no markings on this machine, Mulder," she warned, before eagerness could overcome his common sense. "I can’t explain why--but when I touched it, I got this strong sensing that its creators didn’t want anyone to know its origins." She shook her head, bewildered by her own insupportable theory, then soberly met his startled gaze again. "But it was the same metal, I’d stake my reputation on it."           Mulder thoughtfully settled down beside her, and stared into the distance for several long moments. "And it was buried deep in the cave wall," he finally murmured. "That must have taken a long time."           Scully laid an urgent hand on his arm. "Mulder, I’m convinced that it’s the power source for this island," she exclaimed. "That machine is what’s maintaining a stable environment for the spores, and pumping fresh water up into their cave. And that protective barrier around the island that we both sensed--it must be radiating from here!"           Mulder stared down at his partner in wondering surprise. "Scully, think about what you’re suggesting here," he cautioned. "Mankind hasn’t developed such advanced technology yet!"           "I know exactly what I’m suggesting, Mulder," she affirmed, squarely meeting his eyes. "That machine has been down there, protecting this island, since the dawn of humanity. There’s no other rational explanation for what I felt and saw."           Mulder leaned back, his youthful face sober with concentration. Darkening shadows settled across the hillside, blotting out the waving brown kelp below them, the restless frothing waves. Scully recognized that intense look, and knew better than to interrupt his deep reverie. She waited quietly, watching as stars began to glimmer in the velvety sky.           Suddenly he bolted upright, wide-eyed with awe. "That machine isn’t just providing a stable environment for the spores. This entire island is alive, Scully! It’s self-aware, it knows what’s happening to everyone and everything here. And it’s taking decisive steps to maintain a safe balance!"           Scully bit back her instinctive protest. Mulder’s theory sounded insane--but over the years she’d learned that the crazier his theories sounded, the more accurate they usually were. "Exactly what ‘decisive steps’ has it been taking?" she countered instead.           His jade eyes bored into hers as he released a deep breath. "First ask yourself exactly why such trouble was taken to design such a unique ecosystem," he urged. "And why it was hidden in such an elaborate manner.           "I believe that mankind was meant to find the spores--but only the smartest, only the strongest. Only those clever enough to find the island." He waved one hand through the air, gesturing at the steep mountain behind them. "Those few who had the best chance of survival--and of passing down their heightened strength and intelligence to their offspring."           "Natural selection," Scully interjected. "Genetically alter the species’ best specimens, allow them to breed, and those changes will be incorporated in the next generation. At least, that’s the theory," she amended with a grimace. "It doesn’t always work that cleanly in the real world. Tampering usually causes all kinds of unfavorable genetic mutations."           "Ah, but even so, only the best would survive," Mulder argued, shaking a reproving finger at her.           Scully stared at him through the growing darkness. "Mulder, if what you’re suggesting was true, then we’d all be immune to the black oil," she pointed out. "There would be no cancer, no debilitating diseases. The spores’ protection would have been incorporated into our genetic codes millions of years ago."           He’d already considered that argument--but so many things could have happened during the intervening centuries! "Maybe the enhanced proto-humans bred with the normal ones, and the spores’ protection became a recessive trait, rather than a dominant one," he suggested. "Maybe that’s why some people never seem to get sick, never seem to suffer the same physical ailments that plague everyone else. You know that certain isolated cultures are immune to cancer and other fatal diseases, Scully. In them, the recessive traits could have remained dominant!"           Mulder always had a theory for everything! Some days, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. "That still doesn’t explain how this island has been manipulating events to its own benefit," she tartly reminded him.           His long fingers tightened over hers. "Look, the spores’ primary purpose is to alter the human genetic code, right? To protect us from the upcoming alien holocaust."           Suddenly he hesitated, and uncertainly searched her dubious expression in the fading light. Then he took a deep breath and doggedly continued, "That alteration requires direct exposure to the spores. Scully, I believe that we were led up to their cave. They called me, and kept nagging at me until I finally followed."           Scully wanted to protest, wanted to scoff at his remarkable conclusion. But she couldn’t forget his growing restlessness during the storm, the nebulous ‘voices’ he’d claimed to hear, or his frantic urgency the closer they’d gotten to that humid little cave.           Could he possibly be right?           "Then look at Reuben’s rockslide," he added, before she could muster a coherent response. "You heard what Esther said before she went down the hill. They managed to prop a few big rocks together, but not enough to do any serious damage. Reuben rigged it solely to distract Krycek’s men, so they could escape in the confusion.           "Neither of them expected such a violent chain reaction!" he exclaimed. "It was almost as if the rocks exploded down the hillside under their own power!"           Scully favored him with another skeptical frown. "You think that the island was helping to protect them?"           Mulder gestured over the mountaintop again. "You and I explored that same ravine before the storm," he reminded her. "There were a few loose rocks lying around, but nothing that would’ve produced the force Esther described. Something kicked that rockslide into high gear. Something with a vested interest in protecting the people who wouldn’t exploit its special resources."           He hesitated several moments, then slowly continued, "I think you saw something down there, Scully, that you were never meant to see. You were never meant to find the power source. So the island let you escape from the catacombs--and then covered all traces of the cave so that you couldn’t return.           "I’m even willing to bet that if we search the shoreline tomorrow morning when the tide drops, we won’t be able to find that entrance between the long rocks," he confided. "It’ll be gone, just like the hole you’re sitting on right now."           Scully stared pensively at the distant unbroken horizon. "And the spores’ cave?" she finally asked. "Will that disappear, too?"           Mulder firmly shook his head. "The spores will still be here, for anyone smart and strong enough to find their way to this island. That’s their purpose."           "Agent Mulder!" A familiar voice suddenly echoed down the hillside, startling them. "Agent Scully!"           Both agents scrambled to their feet and spun around. Doggett was standing a few hundred yards above them, clutching a flaming torch. He waved it back and forth like a signal flare when he saw them rise from the long grass.           "Down here!" Mulder called back. "Come join us, the view is fantastic!"           "I didn’t come all the way up here to look at stars," he crisply informed them. "Kenny Hewitt’s team is on a tight deadline. They’re almost ready to leave. It’s time to go home."           Home!           Scully eagerly took an impulsive step up the sheer hillside--then hesitated and slowly looked around one last time.           Home! She should be overjoyed by the prospect! Clean clothes, a comfortable bed, piping hot coffee in a real mug! Her beloved laboratory equipment, and the delicate experiments she’d been forced to leave! Toilet paper, for heaven’s sake!           No more scrabbling up and down that godforsaken mountain like a hamster in a spinning wheel. No more crawling through eerie caves, or tending fires, or dodging snakes and hordes of bloodthirsty insects.           No more fresh coconut milk and tortoise stew, served with equal portions of laughter, camaraderie, and courage. No more long nights tending the fire beneath a million glittering stars, sharing special quiet moments with her beloved partner. No more exploring the island’s incredible beauty, delighting in each new discovery.           She should be overjoyed by the prospect of leaving--yet a sharp pang of sorrow brought wistful tears to her eyes. And she knew, without asking, that Mulder shared her ambivalent feelings.           A long moment passed as Mulder turned and stared out at the distant unbroken horizon. Then--as if he could read her very thoughts--he gently curled an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close in a comforting hug.           "We’ll come back again someday, Scully," he murmured in her ear. "We’ll never forget the way." • • • • • • SPECIAL AGENT FOX MULDER’S OFFICE J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING ONE WEEK LATER           Paperwork, paperwork, and still more paperwork.           Mulder sighed, and wearily pushed a teetering mound of multicolored forms toward the far edge of his cluttered desk. Everyone in the higher echelons wanted detailed information about the plane crash. And how both life rafts had traveled so far from the crash site. And how he and Agent Scully had survived their traumatic ordeal.           And everyone wanted it yesterday--in triplicate. Was it any wonder that he’d crept back into his familiar isolated hideaway to escape and catch his breath, before he snapped and went totally postal?           "Bureaucracy," he grumbled under his breath. "It’s a wonder anything ever gets done around here!"           And to make matters worse, somehow the media had gotten wind of their adventure, so none of them had enjoyed a single quiet moment since their return a week ago. Everywhere they’d gone, those first few days, reporters with cameras had dogged their every step. He and Scully were being cast as valiant heroes who’d risked death and dismemberment, struggling to protect their vulnerable companions from harm.           He supposed it was true enough, though he hadn’t viewed it that way at the time. They’d simply done what needed to be done. And they’d been lucky enough to succeed.           His battered old backpack, salvaged from the charter plane’s wreckage, was resting on his worktable. Last week’s Sunday edition newspaper was neatly folded beside it. He carefully spread the paper open, and shook his head in wry amusement. The entire front page was devoted to their unprecedented rescue and return. One of the Kennedy pilots had taken a group picture of them, just after they’d landed at the Pensacola Air Force Base. God knew how many people had seen that picture plastered on every Washington, D.C. newsstand! It must have burned the hell out of Captain Anthony Worley!           All the excitement and publicity made him uncomfortable, though. He’d be glad when the entire thing died down, so his life could get back to normal. Or, he amended with a wry grin, as normal as it ever got.           Still, there were compensations--and not only that cherished glimpse of old Hogshead’s livid fury when they’d stepped off the huge transport plane.           Skinner had finally managed to reopen their precious X-Files Project, and he’d moved back into his dusty little basement office with a heartfelt sigh of relief.           The Bermuda resort had guaranteed each of them and their immediate families lifetime first-class reservations in its most prestigious accommodations. It was a clear-cut bribe to keep themselves from being sued. And he doubted that either Scully or he would have time to use those open-ended reservations. Besides, what family could he invite? Since his mother’s death, Scully was the only ‘family’ he had left.           But it was nice to dream, and know the offer was there--if he ever felt adventurous enough to try again.          Official commendations had been added to their personnel files--an ironic counterpoint to all those scathing reprimands they’d incurred over the past decade. If he ever decided to retire and start his own investigative agency, those commendations just might come in handy.           Curiously, not a word had been spoken about the glowing spores. Not to the reporters, not to the doctors who’d poked and prodded at them, not even to the high-and-mighty OPR. Somehow each of them, Doggett and Reyes included, had carelessly forgotten to mention them in every report they’d written.           Nor had anyone mentioned Alex Krycek’s involvement, or the clandestine assistance they’d received from a certain enigmatic Well-Manicured Man. Perhaps it was just as well that both men had disappeared without a trace again.           Mulder did wonder what would happen to Krycek, though.           We’re not through, Mulder, a ghostly voice suddenly seemed to whisper in his mind. We will meet again, very soon.           So Krycek was still alive. That knowledge was both reassuring and disturbing. He couldn’t help hoping, though, that their day of reckoning was a long, long way off.           Approaching footsteps in the hallway broke through his troubled reverie. A faint smile curved his lips as he recognized Scully’s familiar thought-patterns. That much, at least, hadn’t changed.           He’d been grateful, on the island, that exposure to the glowing spores had somehow enhanced his innate mental awareness. Otherwise, Krycek might have caught them totally off guard, and the results could have been fatal. Only his ability to ‘hear’ the strike team approaching had saved their lives.           Back in civilization, though, such a capricious talent posed definite drawbacks. All week long, he’d suffered blinding headaches from the overwhelming mental feedback around him. Thank goodness it was finally fading away again. This morning, he could only hear a faint background hum. And, of course, Scully’s swift approach down the long, dimly-lit hallway.           That suited him just fine. He didn’t want to hear people’s thoughts. It was too painful, too dangerous--too damned distracting.           But Scully was a different matter. She was his partner, his soul-mate, the other half of his life. She made him feel complete. Whatever happened during the rest of his life, he prayed that he’d never lose her distinctive mental touch.           Right now, she was simultaneously excited and troubled about something. He quickly folded the newspaper, and set it back on his worktable. "Come on in, Scully," he invited, just an instant before she appeared in the narrow doorway.           Surprise widened her eyes as she hesitated briefly, then cautiously stepped into his cluttered little office. "How did you know it was me?" she demanded.           Damn it, you idiot, watch your timing! he mentally chastised himself.           "Recognized your footsteps," he temporized with an easy grin. "Take a look at what was in my morning mail!"           Scully hesitated, shifting the thick pile of medical files from one slender arm to the other. Even after all these years, she still felt uncomfortable about entering Mulder’s private domain. Every surface in his office was cluttered with tidbits and relics, plaster casts and bone fragments, pictures and enigmatic samples from their many bizarre cases. She was always afraid to breathe deeply, in case she inadvertently knocked over or broke something.           Sighing, she plunked the files in his only empty chair, gingerly perched on the armrest, and peered into the envelope he thrust at her. A single heavy sheet of paper, and a cashier’s check, were tucked inside.           "Dear Agent Mulder," she read aloud, unfolding the thick parchment, "my father taught me to always honor my debts. I know you’ll say it wasn’t a fair bet. But I owe you more than I can ever hope to repay. Please accept this small token of my gratitude, and an open invitation to you and Agent Scully to visit Five Oaks whenever you can. We would be honored by your visit. P.S. My father agrees with me that the Bureau needs more fine agents like you. He has promised to let me attend Quantico’s Military Academy when I finish my college education. I hope to live up to your reputation now, then, and in the years to come. Your friend and soon-to-be Agent in Training, Max."           Her eyes were damp with unshed tears when she met Mulder’s humbled gaze again. "Who’d have figured that?" she murmured. "Trial under fire. Sometimes you get lucky."           Mulder slowly nodded. "With Max, we all got very lucky."           "I suppose," she continued thoughtfully, glancing at the check, "it’s no real surprise that he knew the exact amount of your monthly salary, right down to the penny."           He chuckled. "No surprise at all. Now, what’s in all those files that’re about to slide off my chair?"           Scully made a quick grab for them, and renewed excitement lit her delicate features. Grinning, she dropped the first pair of folders on his crowded desk. "Medical reports on Reuben and Esther Schaumberg," she informed him. "Both of them are in perfect health. Perfect, Mulder, not a trace of the usual ailments you’d expect to find in people who are nearly seventy years old!           "And I was right," she added with a triumphant nod. "Reuben did suffer from vascular angina. But the keyword is did, there’s not a trace of cholesterol buildup left in his body. His veins are clean, and his heart is pumping strongly and evenly!" Smug satisfaction rang through her low voice as she leaned forward. "His doctors are calling it a miracle!"           More files landed on his desk, and slid into an ungainly pile. "Max broke his leg four years ago," she continued, shaking her head in awed wonder. "The tibia and fibula both snapped cleanly, and healed without complications. But last week’s x-rays show a totally different story. No calcium line, not even a hairline fracture. Both bones are perfect in every way!"           Mulder slowly met her piercing gaze. "The spores did this," he whispered. "Lyékarstva savyérsheniy, the ultimate cure."           "Penelope broke her collarbone in a horseback riding accident when she was six," Scully continued without a pause. "And not a trace of that old injury appeared in her most recent x-rays. Her doctors simply can’t understand it!           "And as for your medical charts...you, my friend, are disgustingly healthy!" she chuckled. "Even better than when we eradicated the alien virus from your system!"           His head snapped up. "What about you, Scully?" he demanded, rising to his feet. "What about your medical reports?"           Scully knew exactly what he meant, what he was obliquely asking. He alone knew how deeply she longed for another child someday. And if the spores had cured everyone else...           Suddenly nervous, she glanced away, and fidgeted with the last medical report clenched in her hands. Her medical report, the irrefutable proof of what those treacherous Axis-allied scientists had done to her so many years ago.           He circled his desk and crouched down beside her. She found his comforting proximity oddly soothing to her jumbled nerves. "The doctors say that--well, it’s too soon to tell," she confessed in a halting voice. "There’s a good possibility that the damage may have been undone. But it may be another month or two before we’ll know for sure."           Mulder laid a gentle hand on her arm, then took the thick file and set it on his desk. His strong arms felt reassuring, protective, as he held her close.           "We know how to find the island again," he softly reminded her. "If we have to, we’ll go back. And we’ll keep going back, as often as it takes."           Scully forced a tremulous smile, and nodded against his broad shoulder. Where there was life, there was hope--and the spores had given her new hope that a cure really could be found.           Suddenly Mulder stood up again, and headed back to his desk. "Which reminds me," he exclaimed, a curiously vibrant note in his rich baritone voice, "I’ve got something for you."           Scully stared, bewildered, as he reached into his desk and pulled out a small black box.           It looked almost like...           Her heart suddenly faltered. It was a jeweler’s box!           But she and Mulder had agreed not to formalize their new relationship until they both retired! He couldn’t have...           "Open it," he urged, pressing it in her hands.           "Mulder!" Fear and shock made her voice shake. "You didn’t..."           Her fingers trembled as she slowly lifted the lid.           Vivid ice-blue light shimmered up at her.           Eyes wide, she stared down at the glowing rock snugly nestled against plush black velvet. It turned emerald-green as she ran a cautious finger over its multifaceted surface.           "The spores!" she breathed, reverently cupping her hands around the small box. "Mulder, you brought back a sample!"           Grinning, he teasingly ruffled her sun-streaked auburn hair. "Damnedest thing, I just happened to find it in my pocket when we got home," he confessed. "I have no idea how it got there!"           Scully slanted a disbelieving look up at him. "Just happened to?" she echoed.           Mulder chuckled, then sobered again. "I thought you might want it," he conceded. "Agent Doggett agreed with me. Seems our good buddy, Alistair Desmond Carstairs-Smythe III, made a big issue out of warning Doggett away from the cave. We figure that anything they’re so desperate to protect is something we desperately need. So...we brought back several pieces. And now you can duplicate Cobra’s research, and finish that vaccine you’ve been working on for so long."           Hot tears of gratitude stung Scully’s eyes as she leaned up to kiss him.           Maybe there was still hope for humanity’s survival, after all.