Rapture 2: If you go down to the woods today

'Ladies and Gentlemen, we would like to take this opportunity to thank you for flying with Air France...'

Mulder lay back in his seat awkwardly, trying to get comfortable. Just behind him a woman was attempting to beat the world record for stuffing the most luggage into an overhead compartment. At least she didn't have any kids with her. Yet. Mulder shivered. It was going to be a long flight and the air conditioning was turned up too high. He'd have to ask for a blanket later. He tried to adjust the seat into some even remotely comfortable position but whatever he tried his knees were crammed against the seat in front. *Damn Bureau,* he thought sourly. Business class wouldn't have cost that much more. Well, a couple of thousand dollars. *Not as much as it's going to cost them for the orthopaedic surgery I'll need if the guy in front of me puts his seat back, anyway.*

Scully pushed her way through the crowded gangway and sat beside him.

'My turn for the window seat, Mulder.'

Mulder smirked at her. 'Is not.'

'Is too, Mulder.'

'Division head gets first dibs.'

'Come on, Mulder,' Scully said in a tone that told Mulder she wasn't in the mood for this. He sighed and pulled himself up.

'Mesdames et messieurs...' the intercom began again.

Later they sat side by side, strapped in, waiting for the plane to start circling the airport runways. Mulder sighed, reached into his suit and switched off his mobile phone. He shifted uncomfortably and loosened his tie. The soft wool of his suit felt constricting in the tight space and he was all too aware of the lack of both shoulder holster and weapon. Scully, beside him, was flipping through the airline magazine, engrossed in some glossily illustrated article about the Loire's medieval heritage, either ignoring or not aware of her partner's unease.

Mulder tried and failed to find a more comfortable position. He hated the boredom of long distance flights, and the food, and the censored in-flight movies and the way the attendants never left you alone for more than five minutes. He was restless by nature - having to sit still for so long was a constant, minor discomfort. He closed his eyes and in reluctant obedience to Skinner's dictates let his mind drift back to another uncomfortable journey, almost eighteen years before...

Maine July 5, 1979

Herb's station wagon bounced and jolted along one of Maine's less well maintained highways through a dark, unending growth of pines. It was hot - very hot - with a heaviness in the air that spoke of a coming storm, and the vinyl seat of the car had left the back of Mulder's t-shirt damp and sticky with sweat. The car window was dirty and could only wind down half way, and the metal of the door was too hot to touch.

Mulder leant back restlessly in the back seat, and stared out at the endless passing green.

'Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme...' Saffron sang tunelessly, pushing her long, golden hair back from her face with a practised gesture. Mulder gritted his teeth. He was starting to hate that song. Even country and western would have been better.

'Saffron, honey, are you reading the map?' Herb asked. He shifted his not-inconsiderable bulk in his seat and springs creaked in an attempt to accommodate him.

'We're ok,' Mulder said. 'We just keep going along here until we get to a general store and post office. Then it's a left turn after that, then third left down a dirt track.'

'I met a man, who once I knew there...'

Herb half turned in his seat.
'How'd you remember all that shit, Fox?'

'I've just got a good memory.'

'For he was a true-ooh-ooh love of mine..'

'We better stop at this store. Get some beer in, huh, Foxy?' Herb said with a wink.

'Yeah, and I need to pee,' Saffron said, cutting her song short.

'You should've said, honey. I'd have stopped. You could've gone behind a tree.'

'Oh God, no way, Herb! That is so unhygenic!'

'Honey, we're headed for a campsite in the middle of the woods. If you wanted restrooms, we could've gone to a hotel. Hey, you know, we still could...'

'Yeah, right, Herb. Just keep your hands to yourself and keep driving, willya?'

Mulder shifted unhappily in the back seat. Like most bad ideas, coming here had seemed like a good idea at the time. His parents' divorce was just going through. His fault. With his leaving home, going to Oxford, there wasn't any reason for them to stay together any more. At the house his dad's stuff was being packed into boxes; his mom was getting a lot of sympathy from her friends at the bridge club. His dad had told him to get a summer job, but the thought of three months packing bags at a supermarket checkout or waiting tables for tourists had not appealed.

He'd been miserable and restless. The need to get away, to leave his parents to play out their drama alone, had become a quietly desperate imperative. Then, when he knew for certain that he couldn't endure another day, another hour, Herb Jenks had turned up, headed for Maine with his girlfriend Saffron to this 'really cool place' that Saffron had heard of. Mulder had ignored that fact his cousin was someone he'd always loathed despite the fact that they'd barely met a half dozen times before and that Saffron's real name was Tiffani and that she had a laugh that could etch glass. When she'd said 'You know, Fox, you should come with us. It'll be fun!', he'd jumped at the prospect. Like a lemming jumping over a cliff, as it turned out.

They stocked up at the general store, although there was little enough to stock up with. Tinned food, dry goods, a tiny freezer thickly crusted with frost, candy, magazines, a few overpriced tourist goods. These limited possibilities exhausted, they moved on towards their destination. The car bumped up a long hill, through deep forest. The road passed a lonely house, then half a
mile later another one, with a dog chained in the yard. Soon after that it changed from asphalt to a dried, muddy track. They crested the top of the long rise, and far ahead of them and below a lake glittered through the trees.

The camp itself, another mile along the dirt track, was something of an anticlimax. The road ended in a mess of tyre tracks at a long clearing, dotted with stumps and with about ten tents, a motley mix of drab army surplus and bright blues and oranges. A low wooden cabin stood empty and abandoned to one side, window frames empty. At the far end, the remains of a fire left a bare and ashy circle in the grass, and through the trees, the lake showed grey and flat. From one of the tents a radio blared, but the noise was so tinny and distorted that Mulder couldn't make out the song. There was no other sign of life. The air smelled of smoke and trees and the heat was oppressive.

They got out of the car and stood uncertainly in the clearing, taking stock of their surroundings.

'Jesus, what a dump,' Herb muttered. He ran a hand across his receding hairline, wiping the sweat from his sunburned forehead.

'Herb, that is just so typical of you,' Saffron said, but her tone was defensive.

'So where are all these hippies?' Herb demanded. He reached into the car and sounded the horn.

'Jeez, well that was a good start, *Herb*,' Saffron snapped. 'Wake everyone up, why don't you?'

'It's eleven o'clock in the morning, *Saffron*,' Herb said with an air of infuriating reasonableness. He reached into the car and sounded another long blast.

From somewhere further down among the tents someone shouted 'Shut the fuck up!'

'All right!' an irritated voice called from the cabin. 'Jesus, I'm coming already.'

The man who emerged was shorter than Mulder, with a slight but wiry build. His face was sharp, his hair shoulder length and dark. He had a beard, but it was closely trimmed. His age could have been anything from thirty to fifty. He wore jeans, a white shirt and a suede waistcoat, all immaculate. But Mulder's single overriding impression was that the man called Arch Drake was bored - very bored - and completely uninterested in them.

Drake tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and surveyed them expressionlessly.
'Ok, kids. Welcome to Rivendell. My name's Arch Drake and I'm in charge here.'

Saffron gave him her most dazzling smile and pushed her hair back from her face with the same practiced motion she'd used in the car.

'Hi, I'm Saffron. This is Herb. Oh yeah, and this is Fox. Wow, it's just so great to be here. Our trip was, like, a nightmare, you know, but my friend said this was such a great place. I don't know if you remember Stacey? She was here a couple of weeks back with her boyfriend Jake?'

Drake gave her a cold, bored glance and continued as if she hadn't spoken.

'This is how it works. Rule number one, don't upset the locals. We don't want any trouble with the cops or the local good old boys. Rule number two, anything goes unless it breaks rule number one. One exception - no fighting. Got any problems with someone else here, anything you can't settle between yourselves, you bring them to me. The judge's decision is final, if I ask you to go, you're out of here. You can cook your own food or you can put ten bucks a week in the bag, starting today, and share with the rest of us. Stick your tent anywhere you want and have a nice stay. Any questions?'
There were none. Drake's tone of voice did not encourage them.
'Good,' Drake said, with an emphasis that suggested that he was barely keeping his temper in check. 'Great. I'll leave you to it. Have fun.'

There was a space under the trees towards the end of the clearing, where yellowed grass showed that another tent had recently been taken up. Herb drove down and backed the car into place beside a battered camper van. Mulder and Saffron walked down after him, Mulder silent but filled with increasing foreboding, Saffron muttering sourly to herself, (or to Mulder, it wasn't entirely clear), about what a jerk Drake was. By the time they arrived Herb was already pulling their bags out onto the uneven ground. On one side of their space a new tent stood, zipped closed. The tent to their right was ancient army surplus, the source of the radio Mulder had heard earlier. Even close-up the sound was not greatly improved.

That Herb had broken out the beer ten minutes after they started to pitch the tent was probably a bad sign. It was also not encouraging that Saffron disappeared almost immediately - going for a walk, she'd said, in a tone of voice that strongly suggested that she was sick of the sight of both of them. Their neighbour in the army surplus tent watched disinterestedly as they ineptly put up the tent. Apparently the only genuine hippy there, he seemed rather disgruntled and reacted with hostility to Mulder's one tentative attempt to be sociable.

'Hi. I'm Mulder.'

'Keefe.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Name's Keefe.'

'That must have hurt,' Mulder commented.

'What?'

'Getting a tattoo on your wrist like that? Wasn't that kind of painful?'

'I got a lot of tattoos,' Keefe said, in a voice that discouraged further conversation.

'What's it supposed to be? Is it some kind of symbol?'

'It's the blue bird of happiness. Now why don't you mind your own business, kid?'

'Yeah. Sure. Sorry,' Mulder said unhappily. Herb gave him an *I told you so* look from where he was hauling another clinking cardboard box out of the back of his car.

The rain had started half an hour later. It hadn't stopped for the best part of two days. All in all, it had not been a particularly good start.

***

On the plane to Paris Mulder managed a wry smile. Now, almost eighteen years later, he could look back on the whole experience with a kind of bleak amusement. Back then he'd seriously considered walking the ten miles to the nearest bus stop. Herb had been right about one thing. The place was a dump - a boring, unfriendly dump. It was a testament to exactly how bad things had been at home that he'd stayed around long enough for the rain to ease off.

***

10.30 am July 7, 1979

It was raining. Hard. Mulder sat in the entrance to the tent and looked across the muddy camp up at the murky sky and wondered (again) what the hell he was doing there. The smell of wet earth, wet trees, wet tent and wet clothes rose around him. Through the thick pine trees the surface of the lake was opaque and as grey as the sky. When the sun came out, Mulder guessed,there would be bugs. More bugs. He idly scratched at a bite on his arm. Finding new bug bites was about the only entertainment this place had to offer. He'd already read everything in the tent. Twice. Including the labels on the empty beer bottles and the warning tag on his sleeping bag.

Herb's snores echoed around him. As he looked out over the clearing, he saw a bulky figure, enveloped in a tent of blue plastic, stumbling through the mud and the torrential downpour
towards him.

'Hi Fox!' the woman called Sunflower said, pushing her hood back to reveal a wet but amiable face. She exuded a kind of desperate, earnest motherliness. 'Rebecca made some cookies. I wondered if you and Herb and Saffron maybe wanted one?'
She held out a soggy plate.

'What are they?' Mulder asked.

'Carob and granola. They're vegan!' She said the last as though it was a major selling point.

'Uh, thanks, Sunflower.'

'Why don't you take two, Fox. You look as though you could use it.'

'Thanks. Umm... is there anything I can do to help?'

Sunflower gave him a blissful smile and patted his cheek.
'You're so sweet, Fox. Do you think Herb and Saffron want a cookie?'

Herb's snores reverberated around them.

'Herb's asleep now,' Mulder said, 'But I'll ask him when he wakes up. I think Saffron's next door, with Jacques.'

The newer tent on the other side from Keefe's had turned out to belong to someone called Jacques Lemarchand. He and Saffron seemed to be getting along, to put it mildly. Over the past two days she'd started to spend most of her time in the other tent.

'It's great how fast she's making friends,' Sunflower said, with another damp but beatific smile.

'She's really bringing Jacques out of himself. For weeks he's hardly had a friendly word for
anyone. I think Saffron has a very giving spirit.'

Mulder nodded. He suspected that the fact that Saffron had once been a cheerleader may have had something to do with it too.

'I think I'll go and find them now,' Sunflower said brightly. She shuffled off into the rain again, holding the plate close to her in a vague attempt to keep the cookies dry.

Mulder looked at his cookie appraisingly, then bit into it. He winced. His attempt had made no impact on the cookie, but his teeth would be feeling it for a day or so. A nibble at one of the soggier parts revealed that the cookie had a flavourless, gritty taste. He decided to save it for a more appropriate occasion - say when he was starving to death in a wilderness somewhere. The way the food was here, he considered, that fate was probably only a day or two away.

Across the site he could see another tent being taken down. A few people had left since they'd got here. It seemed that for most the alternative lifestyle experience had lost its appeal when the rain started. He watched for a while, before another figure emerged from the tent next door, long blonde hair spilling out of the sides of her rain hood.

'Hey, Saffron,' Mulder said.

Saffron favoured him with a bored little smile.
'Hiya, Fox. God, this weather sucks. Herb awake yet?'

'Uh... no. Not yet.'

'God, he is *such* a slob. Jacques is driving me out to the mall at Portland to get some stuff. Tell him when he wakes up, Ok?'

'Sure. Could you get me a few things while you're there? Just food, mainly.'

'Yeah. Whatever. Just make me a list of the stuff you want real quick. We've heading off in ten minutes.'

'Just let me find something to write on.'

Saffron sat down beside him as he found a dry piece of paper and made out the list.
'You know, Fox, this place is kind of a dump,' she said. 'There's no real sanitary facilities or showers or anything. I mean, is that allowed? Isn't that breaking some kind of law? It's so unhygienic, you know?'

'I guess there's always the lake,' Mulder suggested.

'Ewwww!' Saffron said. 'Washing in a lake full of fish pee? That is so gross, Fox.'

'It's Mulder, Saffron.'

Saffron gave him a pitying look. 'It's really weird to call yourself by your last name, you know?'

Mulder sighed and handed her the list.
'I think this is all.'

'God, this stuff is such junk, Fox. It's so bad for you, you know?'

'Here's ten bucks. I think it'll be enough. Can you pick me up a newspaper as well? And Herb might want some more beer. He got through the last lot pretty fast.'

'Yeah? Well as far as I'm concerned he can get his own beer.' She shot a dark look into the back of the tent. 'You know, Fox, I'm sorry for you, stuck here with him. You should get out and meet some of the other guys here. They're all fun.'

'Maybe when it stops raining I will. Thanks, Saffron.'

'Seeya later, Foxy.'

The rain finally cleared towards the end of the morning. Despite the bugs, Maine looked almost beautiful - fresh from the storm. The lake had slowly turned clear and blue, and the short grass in the clearing was already drying under the warm sun. Mulder emerged into the sunlight feeling better than he had done in days, leaving the still snoring Herb behind him. Across the clearing he saw Max Donnelly leave the cabin he shared with Drake. He raised his hand in greeting, and Donnelly nodded back shortly. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and as Mulder watched he set off towards the lake at a sprint. Donnelly, he had discovered, exercised a lot. His one attempt at conversation with Max Donnelly the day before had lasted less than ten seconds.

'Hi. I'm Mulder. We came in yesterday.'

'Yeah. Sure. Hi. Now, if you wouldn't mind, could you get out of the way while I finish my workout?'

Mulder had taken the hint. It wasn't as if Donnelly actually stood still for long enough to have a conversation with anyway.

He wandered down towards the lake and sat with his back against one of the trees, letting the sun soak through his clothes to warm his chilled skin. He looked out over the water, which lapped softly against the pebbled shore and glittered invitingly in the sun. It was peaceful. Relaxing. Mulder hurled a pebble into the water.

He'd been there for two days. He was already bored out of his mind.

He wished he'd brought some of his books with him, but he'd left home in too much of a hurry to pack any. Maybe Herb would lend him some of his secret stash of Playboys. He'd been told they sometimes had quite good articles.

He glanced over at the dark haired man who lay sprawled on a blanket a little way away under the trees, a book in one hand and a beer in the other. Mulder couldn't remember seeing him before, but then again there were quite a few people who hadn't left their tents in the lousy weather. The other looked to be in his mid-twenties, with an intelligent, good-humoured face and an air of total self-possession. He was lean and angular, and his sprawl spoke of casual grace rather than awkwardness. His expression was serene - he seemed to be blissfully absorbed in his book. For lack of anything else to do, Mulder found himself wondering what the book was. Tolkien would have been too obvious, and in any case it didn't look as though the other man subscribed to the hippy ethos. His hair was cut short with almost military severity. The jeans and t-shirt were old but presentable. Detective story? A Rex Stout, maybe, but not an Agatha Christie. Science Fiction? Again maybe. Someone like Roger Zelazny. Comic book? No way, and anyway, the cover was wrong...
With a start he discovered that his evaluating gaze was being returned, a little coldly. He reddened slightly.

'I'm sorry. I was.. uh trying to guess what your book was.'

The older man raised an eyebrow. The expression on his face was one that Mulder soon came to know, a kind of quiet, sardonic amusement.
'So what was your best guess?' The accent was English, rich and deep.

'I was still narrowing it down. Anyway, I didn't know you were British.'

A raised eyebrow. 'That makes a difference?'

'All I can think of now is Sherlock Holmes,' Mulder said apologetically.

'It's the nose, isn't it?' the Englishman said with a hint of a smile. 'Those Basil Rathbone films have got a lot to answer for.'

'The whole attitude, I guess.'

'I'm flattered,' the man said dryly. 'I think. I'm Adam. Adam Pierson. You came in a day or two ago, didn't you?'

'Yeah. With Herb and Saffron. I haven't been out of my tent much with all the rain. My name's Mulder.'

'Just Mulder?'

'Yeah,' Mulder said defensively. Adam shrugged.

'Mulder it is, then. Nice to meet you, Mulder. Maybe I'll see you around.'

'Sure,' Mulder said. 'I'll let you finish your book. What was it, anyway?'

Adam held the book up wordlessly. Mulder squinted to read the title against the dappled sunlight then blinked in surprise.
'Ovid's Metamorphoses? That's kind of old.'

The other nodded. 'Ever read it?'

'Yeah. A few times. We had a copy at home. Mom wouldn't have had it in the house if she knew what was in it. She even cancelled her Reader's Digest subscription once.'

'Sex and violence,' Adam said, laying his book down and stretching absently. 'Two of the constants of great literature.'

Mulder nodded. 'The violence always seemed weird to me. The guy spent his whole life partying in Rome. Why was he so obsessed with battles and killing? It seemed so out of synch with the rest of the book.'

The other man's eyes grew somehow distant, lost.
'Maybe there was a darkness inside him he wanted to get out into the light. Maybe he wrote about change and transformation because he wanted to change himself. Maybe the first part of that was accepting what he had been.'

'Maybe, I guess,' Mulder said uncertainly.

Adam let his head fall back, and grinned up at him. 'Yeah, I'm reaching. Sex and violence probably sold about as many books two thousand years ago as they do today.'

'It's still a great book. I wish I'd brought more stuff to read. It seems like it's about all there is to do here.'

'Stick around, kid,' Adam said dryly. 'You'll get the opportunity to take part in the world's longest running and most incompetently played game of Dungeons and Dragons.'

Mulder shook his head.
'Christ. What the hell am I doing here?'

'You know, I keep asking myself that. The conversation's lousy, the food stinks...'

'I never thought I'd say this,' Mulder muttered, 'But I'd kill for a Big Mac right about now.'

'Murders have been committed for less,' Adam agreed sardonically.

'Do we all share the cooking here?'

'Supposedly. Rebecca and Sunflower seem to have taken over. It's probably just as well. Their cooking's bad but it's still technically edible. Drake tried to cook a couple of times..' he shook his head. 'You wouldn't believe how much the nearest Chinese takeout charges to deliver up here.' He looked at Mulder appraisingly. 'I don't suppose you can cook?'

'I don't know. I've never tried.'

'Probably not, then.'

'It's a reasonable assumption. Which one's Rebecca?'

'The skinny blonde with the beads. She's into nurturing things. If she offers to give you a back-rub don't take her up on it. She gets a little over-enthusiastic about it. Jacques is the creep with the long hair and the guitar who's putting the moves on your friend's girlfriend.'

Mulder nodded. He'd disliked Jacques on first sight. With the single gold earring, the curly dark hair, the heavy sideburns and the air of sleazy sexual magnetism, Jacques reminded him of a younger, prettier Oliver Reed. He had a kind of smug confidence in his own attractiveness that made Mulder's fists itch.

Adam waved his hand airily towards the cabin. He seemed to be enjoying his role as tour guide. 'Drake is pretty much in charge. He's the guy with the beard who acts as though this is all one huge joke. He bought the land and set the whole thing up. Max is here with Drake. He's a nice kid but I don't see him sticking around here much longer. Naomi over there's probably been here the longest apart from Drake and Max. She calls herself Sunflower,'

Mulder looked over at the woman he'd only seen previously in a voluminous raincoat. In her thirties, he thought, and easily forty pounds overweight. Her hair was long and dark, with just a suggestion of a bad perm. She wore a loose cheesecloth shirt, a long, tie-dyed skirt and two or three pounds of beads around her neck. She was moving slowly and ponderously from foot to foot in a kind of silent dance.

Mulder narrowed his eyes. 'What's she doing?'

'Tai chi, I think. That or she's practising for a disco contest no-one told me about.' He shrugged. 'She's not going to win any prizes either way but at least she's enjoying herself.'

Mulder tore his eyes away. 'Who are the others? Who else is here?'

'Keefe's been around a while but he doesn't say a lot. The rest just come and go. Most of them are kids from New York and Boston. They come here because they know it drives their parents nuts, get bored after a couple of weeks and head right back to the comforts of home again.'

Mulder looked over at him curiously. 'So why are you over here? This doesn't seem much like your kind of thing.'

Adam shrugged noncommittally.

'It just seemed like a good idea at the time. At least I'm getting to catch up on some reading.'

'I wish I'd thought of that when I packed.'

'You're welcome to borrow anything I've brought along.'

'Thanks,' Mulder said, surprised. Adam smiled again, a real smile this time, not sardonic or disdainfully amused and Mulder smiled back, suddenly shy at the unfamiliar sense of instant connection.

'In the blue tent.' Adam gestured vaguely towards the far side of the camp. 'There's a red rucksack next to my sleeping bag. Knock yourself out.'

Mulder found the books quickly in the small but tidy tent - they seemed to make up most of the other man's possessions. Only half of the books were even in English, but Mulder found several that looked promising, and eventually settled for 'The Thirty-Nine Steps'. They read together in companionable silence for most of the afternoon until dinner - a strangely chewy casserole with dark, unidentifiable lumps floating in it. Washing up afterwards reminded Mulder of scout camp - greasy, cold water and sodden dishtowels.

'Hey, Fox.' It was Rebecca, the skinny blonde with the penchant for back rubs. 'We're going to start the game soon. Did you want to join in?'

'The game?'

'Dungeons and Dragons. It's kind of fun. Come on Fox. How do you know till you've tried it?'

'I don't really think...'

'Don't let Adam put you off. You should give it a try, Fox.'

'Can I watch for a while?'

'You sure you don't want to join in?' Rebecca asked, with a hopeful smile.

'I'll just wait to see if it's my kind of thing.'

He watched as the paraphernalia was brought out. Rebecca was apparently in charge and seemed to take it very seriously. There were incredibly detailed maps which someone (Rebecca?) must have spent hours drawing. There were enormous books of rules. There were strange, many-sided dice. Everybody had a little painted model of their character. Herb, beer in one hand, was taking to the game with some enthusiasm. His character, Mulder discovered, was called Gorn the Mighty, proud possessor of a sword of smiting and a costume composed almost entirely of leather straps. Saffron had returned too, and had seated herself opposite Herb, next to Jacques. Her character was a druidess called Moonflower who wore a long, white robe and talked inanely about the harmony of nature but was otherwise indistinguishable from Saffron herself. Jacques played a black clad assassin who seemed to spend much of his time deliberately or accidentally sabotaging the efforts of the others, while Sunflower's slender, doe-eyed healer said and did almost nothing and Max's warrior only seemed to come alive when there was something to be hacked to pieces.

Drake seemed to be staying well away. Mulder didn't blame him.

He watched for about ten minutes while the ill-matched group lurched from disaster to disaster, bickering constantly as they went, before he finally gave up. He wandered back over to the lake shore, where Adam sat among the trees, catching the last of the sun.

He sat back down beside him and let his head fall back. Adam gave him an enquiring look.
'Not your kind of thing, kid?'

'How long did you say that game's been going on for?'

'Almost every evening since I got here. Months, probably.'

'Christ. I just don't see the point.'

'Basic wish fulfilment, I guess. Sounds like your friend Saffron wants to be noble and wise and ol' Herb wants to be powerful and all-commanding. In real life, it just ain't gonna happen.' Adam took a swallow from his bottle of beer.

'And Herb's sword of smiting?'

'Maybe in some indefinable way he feels he's lacking in the 'sword of smiting' department.'

Mulder nodded gravely. 'I think I see.'

'Bright kid. You want a beer?'

'I'm underage.'

Adam gave him a long look.
'You want a beer?' he asked again.

Mulder gave in. 'A beer would be great. Thanks.'

A couple of hours and several beers later they were both lying side by side, looking up at the stars.

'What's England like?' Mulder asked sleepily.

'Like most places. Just feels older.'

'Older. That helps.'

'This is my seventh beer. Don't expect anything too profound.'

'I just wondered what to expect.'

'Words of wisdom, huh? Don't eat the pub food.'

Mulder failed to suppress a grin. 'Again, this isn't helpful.'

'You'll find it's a matter of survival, kid.'

'Anything else I should know?'

Adam looked up to the stars, as if seeking divine inspiration.
'Using the word 'quaint' is unlikely to endear you to the locals.'

'I'll bear it in mind.'

'You want another beer?'

'I think I'm drunk.'

'You should keep going 'til you're sure.'

'Why aren't you as drunk as I am, Adam?'

Beside him Adam said lazily: 'Guess I've built up a tolerance. Years and years and years of practice.'

'I had Saffron bring me back some food if you're hungry.'

'This place I'm always hungry. What've you got?'

'Hostess Twinkies. Or could be Ding Dongs.'

'That's good.'

'Potato chips.'

'You mean potato crisps.'

Mulder felt his mouth curl in an involuntary smile. 'I mean potato chips.'

'If you go to England and ask for potato chips, they'll give you French fries.'

'We're not in England.'

'I know. I'm just telling you. Useful piece of advice number three.'

'Do you want some of my potato chips or not?'

'Yeah. After that stuff they cooked for supper...' he waved vaguely in the direction of the cook tent. 'What the hell is that, anyway?'

'It's bean stew.'

Adam grinned up at the stars.
'I don't want to know what it's been, I want to know what it is now.'

The joke was feeble, but suddenly it seemed like the funniest thing Mulder had ever heard. He started to laugh so hard he could hardly draw breath. He rolled over and buried his face helplessly in his arms, his whole body shaking.

Adam said lazily 'Kid, you're out of it. You're completely smashed.'

Mulder just lay there gasping. His throat was sore. His stomach hurt.
'Oh God. Oh God, that was so funny.'

'Forget the chips. You're not going to make it back on your own in this state.'

They lay in silence for a little while longer. Mulder yawned widely.

'Kid...'

'Mmm?'

'It's getting late. We really should get back soon.'

'It's so great out here,' Mulder said indistinctly. 'Good to go to sleep under the stars.'

'Just us, the wind, the trees, the sky and every bug in this half of Maine? No thanks. C'mon kid. I don't want to have to carry you back to your tent.'

'What time is it?' Mulder asked drowsily.

Adam half sat up, and looked up at the moon. Mulder looked over at him. The silver light made his face seem pale and serene.

Otherworldly. Lovely. Mulder shivered, not entirely because of the chill, then felt himself flush. *Get a grip, Mulder,* he thought, with bitter, self-directed sarcasm. Too much beer. That had to be it.

'Well it must be almost 1am and I'm usually up at six,' Adam said, yawning, stretching comfortably.

'At six?' Mulder asked. 'What for?'

'I go running while it's still cool out. You're welcome to come along if you want.'

'Yeah. That'd be good. I guess Herb'll still be dead to the world at 6am, so I won't disturb him getting up.'

'Good 'ol Herb.' Adam said vaguely. 'Kid, forgive me for asking, but what are you doing here with that joker?'

'Mulder shrugged. It seemed like a good idea at the time.'

'You mean he's not holding one of your relatives hostage? I though he must have been blackmailing you at the very least.'

Mulder managed a grin, despite the tiny pang of pain deep within him.

'Guess you can't choose your family.' He looked down at his hands, his good mood gone. 'At the moment that's kind of a painful subject.'

'Family often is.' Adam agreed gently.

Mulder looked up at him. 'You seem kind of self-sufficient.'

'I haven't got much family left. You?'

'My parents are getting divorced.'

'And things weren't so good at home.'

'No.'

'It must have been bad, if heading up here with Herb seemed like a good idea.'

Mulder nodded again. 'Like I said, you can't choose your family.'

'Just your friends, kid.' Adam said, and Mulder felt himself flush again.

He said awkwardly, 'I'd better get back. I'll see you in the morning. Tonight was...it was really kind of fun.'

'Yes, it was.' Adam agreed. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

***

'Would you like a drink, sir?'

'I'm sorry... what?'

'A drink, sir. Would you like a drink?' The stewardess was leaning over him in the darkened cabin.

'Do you have any beer?' Mulder asked, more for nostalgia's sake than because he actually liked it.

'Mulder, you'll dehydrate if you drink alcohol,' Scully said sleepily from beside him. Her eyes were closed and her blanket was tucked up under her chin.

'I know, Scully. And my feet will swell up if I don't take my shoes off.'

'Well don't say I didn't warn you.'

Mulder sighed. 'I'll have a mineral water please.'
Sipping his water, he thought about Adam and found that doing so was still capable of triggering a keen and unexpected pang of something that was almost pain within him, even after so many years. He lay back and closed his eyes.

***

6.15 am July 11th, 1979

'Morning kid. Ready to go?'

Adam stood at the entrance of Herb's tent. Mulder stretched sleepily and smiled up at him from where he lay on his back, tangled in his sleeping bag.

'Yeah. I'm with you in a minute. I think I'm getting more used to this.'

'The running or the six o'clock starts?'

'The running. I used to have a paper round. Early mornings aren't so bad.'

'Maybe you should tell Herb about it.'

Mulder glanced back into the depths of the tent where a series of thunderous snores spoke eloquently of Herb's presence.

'I don't think he even remembers what a morning is,' he said, with a sleepy grin. He pulled himself out of his sleeping bag. 'Just let me find some clothes.'

'I'll be by the fire. I've got some coffee going.'

'I thought you only drank beer.'

'Even for me six in the morning is a little early for beer. Or a little late, of course, depending on how the night before went.'

'Party animal, huh?' Mulder said, rubbing his eyes.

'Who said anything about parties? This is beer we're talking about.'

They sat beside Adam's tiny camp stove and drank the coffee, strong and black.

'Once you've been at it for a few days it gets easier. Do you want to go out further today?'

'How about round the lake?'

'Are you sure, kid? That's about four or five miles. Some of it's hard going.'

'I think I'm up to it. You know, I'm surprised we don't run into Max more.'

'He usually runs in the evenings. He takes the whole thing way too seriously.'

'I noticed. I thought that was just me.'

'He's like that with everybody except Drake. Don't worry about it.'

'They seem to go back a long way.'

'Just a couple of years, I think. You about ready to go?'

'Two minutes.'

Because the run was longer, they took it more slowly, but even so, Mulder was winded by the time they'd run around the eastern half of the lake and reached the point directly across from the camp on the opposite shore. In wordless agreement the two of them slowed and stopped. Mulder bent over, catching his breath, then straightened to look out over the lake. Across the water he could see the jumble of tents and cars like toys in the distance.
A tiny figure that could only have been Sunflower crossed to the sheltered cooking fire. Mulder's face burned with the unaccustomed exercise, and he could hear his pulse pounding through his head. Adam, he noticed, was hardly even out of breath.

'Christ, you're fit,' he managed. He sat on the cool grass and let himself fall back.

Adam sat beside him. 'Give it time, kid.'

For a little while they sat in companionable silence, watching the camp across the water.

'You're quiet this morning,' Adam commented.

Mulder wiped the damp hair back from his forehead.
'I was just thinking about the stuff Rebecca was talking about last night. That theory of hers.'

'Remind me. Which one?'

'The Jonestown thing. About it being run by the CIA?'

'Yeah. One of the more 'out there' conspiracy theories I've come across.'

'I think even 'out there' is being pretty charitable,' Mulder said. He sat awkwardly, and swatted at a buzzing insect that had come too close in the humid heat. Adam handed him the half-empty bottle of insect repellent.

'Here you go, kid. That stuff doesn't last long when you start doing serious exercise.'

'And you do this for fun.'

'Yeah. That's the theory. As theories go it's pretty much 'out there' too.'

Mulder sighed. 'But the Jonestown thing. Last night, they all pretty much believed it. There's no proof, no logic, nothing except coincidences and loose connections, but they just swallowed it whole. I guess some people will just about believe anything.'

'Yeah,' Adam agreed dryly. 'Unless it has a government seal of approval, of course.'

'But none of it makes any sense. I heard some theory - the simplest explanation is usually right..?'

'Occam's razor. "Plurality is not to be assumed without necessity", I think it is.'

'Yeah. It seems like here it's the opposite. The more illogical and complicated something is the more they want to believe in it.'

Adam took a deep swallow from his water bottle and passed it to Mulder.
'Kid, you've got to realise, it's like a faith for them. They want to believe, they don't want to think.'

'They're just the same as the people at home. They want to believe what they're told, except it's what they're told by different people.'

'That's human nature, kid.'

'And I suppose at least the stuff the government gives out makes sense most of the time.'

'Kid, that's just because they're better organised. A lot of things just don't have any sensible explanation. Unanswered questions bother people and bothered people are harder to govern. So the government invents its own sensible explanations to keep people happy.'

'So what is the truth?'

'Beats me, kid. I suppose it's somewhere out there between the official explanations and the wacko theories. If you find it nobody'll believe you anyway.'

Mulder shook his head. 'How d'you get this cynical, Adam?'

Adam grinned. 'Years and years of practice, kid.'

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

'You've gone quiet on me again, kid.'

'I was just thinking... about reasons why someone might just disappear. I mean, not ordinary reasons.'

Adam glanced at him curiously. 'Were you thinking of anyone in particular?'

'Yeah. You could say that.' Mulder said unhappily. 'When I was twelve, my sister disappeared.'

'Just disappeared?'

'Yeah. One night she just vanished out of our room.'

'How old was she?'

'Eight. She was only eight.'

'I'm sorry, Mulder,' Adam said gently and gravely. 'What happened?'

'I don't know. I can't remember. I was in the same room and I can't remember what happened. I heard that other people have vanished in the same way with no explanation and I thought maybe that could be what happened to her because there isn't any other explanation that makes any sense. I guess you think I'm crazy.'

'No. I don't think you're crazy.'

'My dad did. Does. Mom won't even talk about it. She won't let anyone talk about it. I guess it's part of the reason I came here. To see if there was anyone who could tell me anything about that stuff. Just someone I could talk to about it. But it wouldn't mean anything even if they did. Christ, listen to me. I've known you for a week and I'm telling you all this crap that's in my head.'

'Hey, kid, c'mon. It's all right.'

He felt Adam rubbing his shoulder, then his neck and upper back in a gesture of comfort.

'Shit,' Mulder said softly. 'I didn't want this to happen. I'm sorry.'

'De nada, kid. Want to talk about it some more?'

Mulder just muttered: 'I'm sorry.' again.

'Kid, it's ok. Really. Don't get uptight on me and bolt into the woods. Your mother will never forgive me if I get you eaten by a moose before you go to England.'

Mulder managed a smile. 'You're telling me there are man-eating moose in Maine?'

'Oh it's true, kid. We used to see them a lot round here but I think the bigfoots chased most of them off.' He smiled as Mulder shook his head, smiling despite himself. 'Come on. Let's abandon this run and get something to eat.'

Mulder shuddered. 'Great. Another Naomi and Rebecca breakfast.'

Adam shook his head. 'A mile or so that way there's a cross-roads with the interstate. There's a fast food place. I go out there about once a week when the craving for grease gets too much for me.'

'Do they serve burgers?'

'Burgers, cheesecake, steaks, coffee you could stand a spoon up in. All grease and additives. Real food. In case you hadn't heard, we've got sunflower seeds on the menu for lunch back at the camp.'

'Actually I'm starting to like the sunflower seeds.'

'I think it's going to be a sunflower seed and lentil casserole.'

'You said the diner was about a mile that way?'

***

On the plane going towards France, Mulder smiled at that memory.
Probably the first time that someone had actually listened without either humouring him or telling him he was nuts. And the realisation that on that day he'd found what he'd been looking for all his life up until then. Someone he could talk to about the crap in his head. Someone who'd listen as though they thought it mattered.

***

The diner was called Mack's and most of the people who stopped there seemed to be truckers or tourists. Adam greeted the frumpy woman behind the counter as Marion and received a tired smile in return. The menu was basic, but the food looked good. Adam ordered hash browns, eggs and baked beans, cheesecake and coffee. Mulder ate his way through two burgers with all the toppings, a portion of fries, a coke and two helpings of apple pie with ice cream. Towards the end Adam sat and drank his coffee and just watched him eat with a faint smile on his face. When he'd finished, Mulder said: 'That was great. I was so hungry. I've never eaten that much in one go before.'

'You need it kid. You're too thin. You'll run most of it off on the way back anyway.'

'Can we stick around here for a while? Listen to some music, maybe?'

'Sure. Why not? As long as we don't end up walking home in the dark it's not a problem.'

'Just let me check out the jukebox. You want a game of pool?'

One game turned into three or four as the day wore on and the morning became afternoon. Halfway through the last game a car pulled in abruptly from the highway, and Adam lifted his head warily as if sensing something Mulder couldn't hear.

'Game's over, kid,' he said, shortly. 'We need to get going..'

'Aw come on, Adam. I was beating you..'

'Now, kid.'

Mulder looked at him in confusion as the door of the diner opened.
Adam murmured 'Damn.' very softly as two police officers entered.
One of them went up to the counter and ordered coffee, but the other came straight to Adam. He was heavily set and balding. His eyes were pale and grey.

'All right, boy..' the man started softly, then his eyes narrowed as if in recognition. I know you. You're the Brit from the camp.'

Adam said warily 'That's right. What about it?'

'Strange place to come on holiday, isn't it?'

'Maine is a beautiful state,' Adam said carefully.

'I meant, camping with a bunch of hippies,' the man drawled. 'What are your intentions here?'

'I try not to get into trouble.'

'You don't like fighting, do you.'

'Not when I can avoid it.'

'And when you can't?'

'Oh, I'll fight if I have to,' Adam said, and Mulder saw the challenge in his eyes.

The man nodded slowly. 'Stay out of trouble, boy. I don't like your sort in my territory. That goes for you and your four friends. Stay out of trouble or I'll have your head.'

'Understood,' Adam said. 'Let's go, kid.'

Outside the diner Mulder asked: 'Adam, what was that about?'

Adam shrugged. 'He was just throwing his weight around. Don't let it bother you.'

'Did you know him from somewhere before? You're not... you're not in some kind of trouble, are you?'

'Nah. He just thinks he knows my type.'

'If that was all hot air then why are we running away?' Mulder asked belligerently.

Adam sighed. 'You heard what Drake said about being nice to the locals, kid. I don't want to make any trouble for anyone else at the camp. Besides, we're not running away. We're making a strategic withdrawal.'

'You really think he could make a lot of trouble for us?' Mulder said. Knowing that the law disapproved of him, even in this form, made him feel obscurely guilty.

'Kid, this isn't the deep south. We're not going to wake up one morning at the bottom of a swamp. On the other hand I wouldn't put it past him to find some excuse for the two of us to spend a couple of nights in the local cells.'

'How did you know it was them before they came through the door?' Mulder asked curiously.

'Heard the police radio in the parking lot outside.' Adam said with a shrug. 'I guess you were too wrapped up in the game to notice.'

'I guess so. But how did he know we were from the camp?'

'He must have seen me before. Maybe when I was out driving. Don't lose any sleep over it, kid. I'm not going to. Are you ready to go back?'

'But what did he mean about your four friends?'

'How should I know? A couple of times I've driven some of the others into Portland. Maybe that's where he saw me. You're making a big deal out of nothing here, kid.'

'Yeah. I guess so. What he said just seemed weird, that's all.'

'Come on. I'll race you to where the trails cross.'

'Hey! Wait!..'

***

On the plane to Paris Mulder narrowed his eyes.

'Stay out of trouble or I'll have your head,' he murmured.

'Mulder, what did you just say?' Scully said in sleepy disbelief from beside him.

'Nothing. Just trying to think of a name.' Not for the first time, Mulder blessed his eidetic memory. He'd caught only a glimpse of the man's name tag, but if had been enough. Officer Gene P Jordan, Lewiston-Auburn sheriff's office. Another name for Skinner's list. He let his thoughts drift back to the camp.

***

11.20pm July 13 1979

'Jacques, don't do that!'
Saffron's muffled, high pitched giggles split the night air from the tent next door. Beside Mulder, Herb snored on regardless.

Mulder pulled his pillow over his head.
*How the hell can he sleep through this?* he thought.

'Jacques.. I'm warning you.. don't do that...'
Saffron gave a little shriek of unconvincing outrage. Jacques said something that Mulder couldn't quite catch, but his tone of voice was sly and persuasive.

'You'll wake the others!' Saffron hissed. 'Don't! Ooh Jacques..!'

Mulder sat up abruptly and pulled himself out of his sleeping bag. Sleeping out by the lake with the bugs was better than this. He didn't look around to the tent where Saffron and Jacques had both fallen unaccountably silent - he just threw his sleeping bag over his shoulder and left. As soon as the flap fell closed behind him he heard Saffron start to giggle again, and Jacques' low, contemptuous laughter. He felt himself flushing miserably, but staying nearby with that going on hadn't been an option. He looked around for a place to sleep and saw Adam's tent, low and neat, on the other side of the fire, away from the others. A low, telltale light barely illuminated the canvas. Adam was also still awake. Mulder's debate with himself was short-lived. The tent was a haven, a place he wanted to be more than anywhere else. Just to be with a friend, near someone who was a friend, he told himself, and tried to ignore the tension/fear/anticipation that had settled in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that, then, he didn't wholly understand.

'Adam?'

He heard the rustle of the sleeping bag from inside the tent.
The zip opened and Adam's tousled head poked out.

'Kid? What is it? What's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong. But could I crash with you tonight?'

A shrug. 'If you're sure, kid. Come on in.'

'Thanks,' Mulder said, as he pulled the sleeping bag into the tent after him. 'It's getting kind of noisy over there.'

'Noisy?'

'Herb snores and Saffron and Jacques are all over each other the whole time.'

'Sounds crowded. Did you bring your stuff?'

'My sleeping bag is all. Did I wake you?'

'No. I was just finishing my diary.' Adam moved his own sleeping bag over to the side. 'You feel like running tomorrow?'

'Sure.'

'I'll wake you at six. See if you feel like it then. You settled in?'

'Yeah. I think so.'

'Goodnight then, kid.'

'Goodnight, Adam.'

The nightmare that night was one of the worst he'd had for a while. He woke shuddering and sobbing to find Adam gently shaking his shoulder.

'That sounded like a bad one, kid.' Adam said sleepily. 'You OK?'

Mulder felt his heart sink. His subconscious seemed determined to screw this friendship up before it was even a week old.
'Yeah. Just a nightmare. I'm sorry I woke you up. Herb usually sleeps right through them.'

There was concern in Adam's face, and Mulder felt his stomach knot.
'Do you want to talk about it?'

'No,' Mulder said emotionlessly. 'It's OK. It was just a nightmare.'

'Kid, I've been there too. I know what it's like. There was a time when I averaged about two hours' sleep a night.' A pause. Was it about your sister?'

Mulder shivered. 'Not right now, ok?'

'Ok. Do you think you can get back to sleep?'

'I... yeah. Probably.'

Adam ran a hand through his hair. 'In other words, no.'

'Usually I just read until the morning,' Mulder admitted.

'OK, kid. Sit up.'

Mulder sleepily pulled himself halfway up out of his sleeping bag. His head ached from the tears.
'Facing away from me. That's right.'

'What are you going to...?'

'Shh, Mulder. I'm going to try to lose some of this tension.'

The strong hands touched his back, and he jerked away involuntarily.
'Relax, kid.'

Mulder realised that he was shivering, and that his jaw was clenched. Adam lay both hands on his shoulders and held them there for a moment, without moving them.

'I learned this in Tibet,' he said conversationally. 'It's an ancient form of kundalini yoga.'

'You've been to Tibet?'

'Yeah. Of course ideally we'd have some sandalwood incense...'

'That has some kind of ritual significance, right?' Mulder managed.

'Not really. I just like the way it smells.'

Mulder bit back a shaky laugh. 'Tell me about Tibet.'

'It's peaceful there. Nothing's really changed in thousands of years. The same food, the same way of farming. The same monasteries...'

'Hold on. Kundalini yoga? You mean like tantric sex kundalini yoga?'

'A Buddhist monk taught me this,' Adam said, with amusement in his voice. 'If he knew tantric sex he wasn't letting on.'

'Gee, that's a relief,' Mulder said, rather aimlessly. He felt his eyes fall shut and found it an effort force them open again.

The hands moved across to his shoulders, gently forcing them to relax, raising a pleasant ache in tensed muscles. It felt... comfortable. Good.

After a minute or so Mulder felt his head nod forward, then again.

'Feels nice,' he murmured.

'Lay down.' Adam commanded. 'You want me to keep doing this for a while?'

'Yeah...' Mulder managed. 'Adam, I'm sorry I woke you...'

'Like I said, I've been there. Stop worrying. Now, close your eyes.'

Mulder closed his eyes. He was asleep again in seconds.

***

It shook Mulder a little, even seventeen years on, how easily he'd come to trust the other man. He knew himself, knew how rare it was for him to let anyone come close. Trust was not in his nature, not even back then, as a teenager - he'd been hurt, badly let down, too many times.
But Adam... *You had no idea what you did to me, just by being who you were. You were clever and funny and cynical and beautiful and utterly self-sufficient, and you liked me. From the first time I saw you, I never had a fucking chance.* It was sobering, to realise that this was a relationship he hadn't been able to get over in almost eighteen years. He looked over at Scully, deeply asleep beneath her inadequate airline blanket, head, almost resting on his shoulder. It was sobering too to realise that Scully and maybe Skinner were the only people he'd been able to allow as close to him in all that time.

***

July 14 1979 4.30pm

Shopping in Portland the next day had been a strained affair. Most of the others had piled into Keefe's van, but Mulder had ended up in Herb's car with only his cousin for company. Herb had maintained a grim and disapproving silence for most of the journey both to Portland and back. It wasn't until Herb's car pulled up the muddy track towards the camp again that his cousin brought up the topic of his change of sleeping quarters.

'You know, Fox,' Herb said grimly. 'Moving in with him. That was a real stupid move.'

Mulder sighed. 'Herb, I like him. He's a nice guy.'

'Fox, there's stuff you don't understand. A kid like you. There's guys who... you know... go for that.'

'A kid like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean, Herb?'

'I mean one day you're going to wake up and find you're not the only one in your sleeping bag. Get my drift?'

Mulder rolled his eyes. 'Herb, we've been here a week. If he was going to make a pass at me I think he'd have done it by now.'

'Fox, I think I'm going to have to call your dad.'

For a moment Mulder was speechless with shock and betrayal.
'Christ, Herb, even you're not that much of a creep,' he said in disbelief.

'Fox, I don't think you understand what kind of trouble you're lining up for yourself,' Herb said sternly.

'The guy's my friend, Herb! I like him! That's all!'

'It's for your own good, Fox,' Herb said with a kind of self-righteous smugness.

'Jesus Christ, Herb,' Mulder said. He shook his head. 'You really are a piece of work.'

'This is for your own good, Fox. You move back out of his tent, or I'll call your dad.'

'You know something, Herb? Fuck you. Stop the car. I'll walk the rest of the way back.'

'Fox...'

'And don't call me Fox.' Mulder said between gritted teeth.

'Stop the car. I mean it.'

'Fox...'

'Stop the fucking car, Herb! And don't call me Fox!'

All in all, it was probably one of the more satisfying moments of his life, although whether it would have been more satisfying if they'd been five miles back along the road rather than two hundred yards outside the camp entrance, Mulder didn't know. He didn't care, either. He pulled his rucksack out from the back seat and slammed the door. Herb drove on without looking back, and Mulder followed on after him.

'Hey, Adam. I got your beer. Adam?'

He ducked into the little tent and narrowed his eyes. Almost everything except for the sleeping bag and a couple of books had been packed away into bags and boxes.

'Here, kid. I was just packing some stuff up in the car.'

'You're leaving?' That sounded more shocked than Mulder had really wanted it to.

Adam nodded. 'I had an argument with Drake. so I'm heading off. It's his place, after all.'

'So you're just going? Just like that?' Anger now, and betrayal. Why was he so lousy at hiding his feelings?

Adam nodded and packed the last of the books in the backpack.
'Yes. Tomorrow morning. There's no point in dragging it out.'

'What did you argue about? Is there anything...'

The dark eyes met his, warning him: *let it go, kid*.
'It was just something personal. I'm not proving anything by staying. It's time to move on.'

The decision was instantaneous. Mulder spoke the words without hesitation.
'Can I come with you?'

Adam didn't seem that surprised by the request. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes. I'm sure. If you leave me here I'll go crazy by the end of the week.'

'You haven't even asked me where I'm going.'

'I don't care. Just as long as it's not here.'

Adam's eyes narrowed at the vehemence in his voice.
'Did something happen, Mulder?'

Mulder took a breath.
'No. It's just like I said. I don't want to stay here either. Where are you going?'

'I didn't have any real plans. I was just going to drive until I found somewhere else to camp. I've still got a lot of reading to catch up on'

'Do you think you'd be able to catch up on your reading in northern Vermont?'

'Why there?'

Mulder flushed. 'I know it sounds kind of stupid but I read about some UFO sightings up in the Green Mountains, near the Canadian border. It sounded kind of cool, but it's pretty remote.'

'Remote. Sounds good. Let's do it.'

Mulder hesitated for a moment, then said:
'Adam, if you don't want me along, all you have to do is say. I won't mind.'

Adam gave him an unfathomable look.
'Kid, if I hadn't wanted you along I wouldn't have waited around until you got back. Now you'd better go and pack. We're leaving early.'

****

Somewhere over the Atlantic, Mulder frowned. He'd never worked out what that argument had been about and had never been able to persuade Adam to tell him. His best guess was that Adam had argued with Jacques, or more likely Herb, and fallen foul of Drake's no-fight rule. Whatever it had been about, it was hard to imagine any kind of argument that would inspire one participant to hunt down and kill another after eighteen years. He sighed. This whole thing was a mess.

*****

Herb started on the beer even earlier than usual that afternoon, and was joined by most of the others. Both their argument and the fact that Adam was leaving seemed to have become common knowledge. Naomi was giving him wide-eyed, understanding looks. Saffron kept frowning at him and making little faces, although what they were intended to convey was uncertain. Drake seemed indifferent. Herb didn't even look at him. It all got tired fast. Making his excuses, he left them to it, and found Adam stowing the last of his gear.

They retrieved the last of the beer from the tent and walked until they found a stony little bay at the edge of the lake and sat together on the soft grass under the trees. A faintly herbal
smell drifted through the trees towards then, and Adam shook his head and grinned.

'Where the hell do you get pot from out here?' he asked, with amused disgust.

'Maine's not exactly the drugs capital of America,' Mulder agreed. He still felt a little subdued.

'Maybe some of the racoons around here are pushers. Do you want a beer, kid?'

'Sure. Why do you keep calling me kid, anyway?'

'Because I hate calling you Mulder and you hate being called Fox. I've got to call you something.'

'There must be something better than 'kid'.'

'I'm easy. What do you want me to call you?'

Mulder grinned. 'Really, I'm fine with Mulder.'

Adam pulled two cans of beer from the six pack, and found a home for the rest in the shallows of the lake, leaving them to cool.
'I hate calling you Mulder. It sounds as though we're in the army.'

'Were you ever in the army?'

'Once. I bought myself out after a couple of months.'

'You resigned from the army? Why?'

'I got sick of people calling me 'Pierson'.'

Mulder looked up at him suspiciously, and caught his grin.

'Was that true? Were you in the army?'

Adam smiled. 'No, kid. What it boils down to is killing other people for a living and getting

shouted at by men with sloping foreheads. It just wasn't for me.'

'Are you a pacifist, then?'

'Hah. People who think if we understood each other, we could all just get along? They're just kidding themselves. I'm not a pacifist. It's personally killing people I'm opposed to. That and having other people try to kill me, of course. You?'

'I guess I'd fight if I had to. If there was a draft or something, I mean. I've never really thought about it.'

'I hope you never really have to, kid.'

'But wouldn't you fight? If it was about something important enough, I mean.'

'Over and above saving my own skin?'

'Yeah.'

'I don't know, kid. Once, maybe. Now I just don't know any more.'

For a little while they sat in silence.

Mulder said softly: 'I don't think you're half as cynical as you say you are. I think you'd fight, if you found the right reason.'

'Maybe, kid. It would have to be a pretty damn good reason.'
To break the awkwardness he flipped the metal cap from his beer off into the trees and took a long swallow.

'Have you ever tried smoking grass?' Mulder asked, a little embarrassed, trying to change the subject.

Adam smiled as he sprawled comfortably back beside Mulder.

'Couple of times. You wanted to try it? It's not worth it, kid. You'd be better off sticking to beer.'

'I was just curious,' Mulder admitted. 'There are a lot of things I want to try, even if it's just once.'

'We can probably get some grass if you're that curious. I'm warning you now, though, it's overrated.'

They sat in silence for a while. Then Adam said: 'So what did you and Herb argue about?'
Mulder glanced across at him sharply, but Adam was looking up into darkening sky.

'I guess walking back into camp was kind of a give-away,' he said eventually.

'Did he throw you out of the car?' Adam asked, just a little too casually.

'No. I told him to stop. He said...' he stopped, not certain how to continue.

Adam shifted beside him. 'Don't worry kid. I can guess. I had an argument with him a couple of days ago, when you were in Portland. Jacques fed him some line of crap and now he doesn't think my intentions towards you are honourable.'

'He... you didn't say anything.'

'I didn't think it meant anything. It doesn't mean anything. You shouldn't let him get under your skin, kid.'

'He said that he'd call my dad,' Mulder let his head fall back. 'I don't need that now,' he said quietly. 'I really don't need that now.'

Adam sighed. 'It's official then.'

'What?'

'Herb's an asshole.'

'Adam, I'm sorry all this happened. I don't know why Herb's being such a slimeball.'

Adam stood and retrieved two more beers from the lake. 'He's an asshole - that's his problem. Are you still OK to come with me tomorrow?'

'Yeah. There's no reason to stay here.'

'I meant after what Herb said.'

'Right now I don't give a fuck what Herb thinks.'

He saw a smile flicker around Adam's mouth for a second.
'Way to go, kid. Have another beer.'

'Thanks.' He lay back and closed his eyes. 'Why does it have to be so hard?'

'What, kid?'

'Doing what everybody expects. Doing what everybody wants. Sometimes.. sometimes I think what it would have been like if I'd been like everyone else. If I wasn't this screwed up. I analyse stuff, all the time. Other people just get on with things. I feel like.. like everyone else knows what to do and I'm just faking it.'

'Kid, you just described the human condition,' Adam said with a shrug. 'Like I said, you've just got to relax and go with who you are. Trust me on that.'

'Yeah. I'm sorry,' Mulder said ruefully. He looked over at Adam and felt a sudden rush of affection for the older man. He smiled. 'I'm glad you waited around today.'

'You think I'd have left you here with this lot?'

'I'm only half way through your Thomas Covenant books,' Mulder said, his face deadpan.

'Sounds like I really am stuck with you for the rest of the summer.'

'Do you mind? I mean really?'

'You're good company, Mulder. I like you. I like talking to you. I like you being around. Just stop worrying about it.' He looked up abruptly.

'What?'

'Oh nothing. I thought I felt some rain.'

'Uh guys?'

Mulder looked round, surprised at the interruption.

'Rebecca?' Adam asked, sounding faintly irritated. 'What is it?'

'We kinda thought we'd head out and find a bar somewhere. You guys want to come?'

'I'd better finish packing, Rebecca,' Adam said. 'But thanks for asking.'

'Mulder?' Rebecca asked, rather cautiously.

'I've got to sort my stuff out too,' Mulder said.

'Are you going in the morning as well?' Rebecca asked curiously.

'I don't know. I haven't decided yet.'

'You know, Herb cares about you, Mulder. In his own way.'

'Well, thanks for sharing that with us,' Adam said, rather too sweetly.

Rebecca looked slightly affronted, then shrugged. 'Well, you guys have a good time. I expect we'll be back late. Maybe I'll see you in the morning. Hope you don't get rained on.'

A few fat drops fell onto the dry leaf litter as she left, building slowly up to a steady pattering.
'We better take this show inside, kid,' Adam said.

Two damp hours later, the rain beat furiously on the sides of the tent. Mulder lay on his bedroll in the close, blue darkness and tried to relax. Nearby lightning illuminated the sides of the tent to almost neon brightness for a fraction of a second. The thunder that followed left no room for any other sound.

'It's getting worse,' Mulder said, more nervously than he'd intended.

'We're OK here,' Adam said lazily. 'We're too low for lightning to be a problem and on this side of the slope there shouldn't be any flash flooding.'

'I know. Storms just make me kind of edgy.'

Beside him Adam stretched sinuously, his sweater riding up to show an inch of two of pale skin.
'Storms make me feel alive. There's so much power in the air. I feel as though I'm itching under my skin...'

Another bolt of lightning shattered the darkness.
'Gods,' Adam murmured, when the following roll of thunder died away. 'I have got to be out in this.'

'Adam, pretty much the only dry clothes we have are the ones we're wearing,' Mulder said, in a desperate attempt to sound reasonable. The only possible reason he could conceive for being out in weather like this involved making a beeline for the nearest place with four walls and a roof.
Adam gave him a grin that could only be described as feral.

'Who said anything about clothes?'

Mulder felt his jaw drop. 'You're joking, right? What if someone comes?'

'Out here? In this?' Adam asked. His voice was slightly muffled - he was pulling his sweater roughly over his head. 'Mulder... Damn sleeves... Mulder, no-one in their right mind would be out in a storm like this.'

'Yeah,' Mulder muttered. 'I rest my case.'

'Kid, you have got to lighten up,' Adam said. He pulled his boots off without bothering to unlace them. 'You coming?'

'Wait a minute... you expect me to go out there with you?'

'I promise you, Mulder, it's going to be incredible,' Adam said. He tugged his jeans off awkwardly in the confined space. 'The rain on your skin, the electricity in the air...'

'You have got to be kidding me.'

'Come on, Mulder,' Adam said. 'Live a little.' He dived out of the tent and Mulder, who had studiously been looking at his feet, caught a flash of white skin out of the corner of his eye.

The tent door flapped and rattled in the wind. Mulder pulled it shut without looking outside. He didn't want to look. OK, so he was kidding himself. He did want to look. He wanted to look a lot, he realised, and he wanted to touch. *Christ, Mulder, what a screw-up you are,* he thought miserably. From outside he heard a whoop of joy, then there was another strike of lightning, very close, followed a split second later by a crack of thunder that cut all sound off. Then there was silence.
Mulder swallowed. He couldn't hear anything except the rain. Swearing softly and bitterly under his breath, he pulled on his coat and grabbed his cheap flashlight. He didn't know what good it would be in the darkness outside - it was barely strong enough to read by - but it was better than nothing.

The rain against his hood almost deafened him and the wind wrenched the branches from side to side above him. He couldn't see Adam. He swore again, although he could hardly hear himself The dim, yellow beam of the flashlight managed to illuminate the ground for about two feet in front of him. The rest was darkness.
'Adam, where the fuck are you?' he muttered furiously. He caught a flash of white through the trees, towards the lake...

The loose t-shirts, the sweaters, had hidden a body that was less slender than it looked. Adam was not muscular, not exactly, but his body looked firm and smooth. His skin was pale and his wet hair seemed shockingly dark in contrast. Slender, athletic, beautiful. Face turned up towards the rain. He must have made a noise then. Adam turned and saw him.

A desperate little voice in Mulder's head was telling him that this would be a good moment for a dry remark, but his brain seemed to have run out of ideas. Only one thing was certain. There was *no way* he could let Adam see him naked now.
Adam walked slowly towards him until they stood face to face. Mulder realised that somehow he had backed himself against a tree. He stood there, frozen.
'Mulder, why are you still dressed?' Adam asked softly. He took the zip fastener of Mulder's coat in one hand and slowly, deliberately, began to pull it down. He didn't look at Mulder's face, just down at the zipper, with the kind of concentration usually reserved for carrying out brain surgery on heads of state. Mulder swallowed and tried not to think about where Adam's hand was going to stop when the zipper ran out. It was a losing battle.
*I want you to stop.* How hard could those words be to say? Not difficult at all, assuming, of course, that you were still in control of your higher brain functions. Right now, however, speech was going to be a problem and Mulder's IQ was descending at about the same rate as the fastener. His sex drive, tired of lurking neglected and ignored on the fringes of his mind, had resorted to paramilitary tactics and was holding his central nervous system hostage. It was with an incredible sense of relief that he surrendered to its demands and raised a hand to Adam's face, then to the spiky softness of his rain-soaked hair, pulling him closer. He almost sobbed as Adam's mouth neared his own, so close now that he felt rather than saw the lips curve in a satisfied smile.

Adam said, so softly that Mulder could hardly make it out over the noise of the rain: 'I wanted to taste this mouth the first time I saw you.' He raised a hand and rubbed his thumb roughly across Mulder's lower lip as his other hand came round to stroke the dark hair, suddenly very gentle . Mulder moved his face towards Adam's, but drew back a little when their noses bumped.

He said 'Ow...' and again felt rather than saw the other's smile.

The older man's hand traced a path down his face. Then Adam cupped his chin, angled his own face, and touched his lips once lightly to Mulder's, then again. Somewhere above them the storm was rolling away across the hills. Adam drew back a little and looked at him calmly and gravely.

'Mulder... Are you all right with this?'

Words failed him, so he leant forward instead and pressed his mouth inexpertly against the other man's, and felt Adam's lips part beneath his. It was a moment he would remember with incredible clarity.

The taste of Adam's mouth, apples and beer and lip balm. The smell of the rain-soaked woods with the fainter scent of sweat and insect repellent below it. The noise of the last of the rain falling through the trees and pattering onto leaf litter. The way the nylon of his coat rustled in protest as Adam's arms came around his shoulders. The sound of his heart beating, filling his ears. Then there was the feeling of the tree bark, rough against his back, even through his clothes, and Adam's warmth, and the feel of his skin, warm and slick with the rain. The heat of his mouth. Dear God, Adam's tongue inside his mouth. How was it that he could feel that all through his body? He heard himself moan under the kiss, and felt his own easy surrender in the other's arms.
When Adam broke the kiss, he gasped at the loss.

'You're still overdressed,' Adam said. They stood very close together, foreheads still touching. Adam's breath was warm on his face.

'What if one of the others sees us?' Mulder managed to say. He could still taste the other in his mouth. He wanted that taste again, so badly.

'Out here? In this? Anyway, what the hell does it matter if they do see us?'

Mulder drew back a little.
'I think Herb'll tell dad...' A knot of fear clenched inside him at the thought of what would happen then. It must have shown in his face or his voice. In Adam's eyes he saw sudden comprehension and a spark of anger. He closed his eyes, felt himself shiver.

Adam said softly. 'It's OK. This isn't any of their business. Tomorrow we'll be out of here.'

'What about tonight?'

'We'll see the headlights if any of them come back early. It'll be OK.'

'Adam... Adam, anything you want to do to me will be OK, but I've never...'

'Shhhh. I know. I know. It's all right.'

In the end it had been that simple. They made love in the almost darkness, on the slippery nylon of their sleeping bags. Mostly just kissing and touching each other. Warm and sweet, hardly a surrender at all. Just Adam learning him, the ways he wanted to be touched, and then guiding his own, inexpert hands. The first time he came, he cried. Afterwards Adam held him.

'You OK, Mulder? Did I hurt you?'

'I... I didn't know it was going to be like that. I was so scared...' There was a kind of wonder in his voice. In the darkness beside him he heard Adam make a soft, amused little noise.

'Better or worse than you thought?'

'Why ask the question when you already know the answer,' Mulder said. He moved closer into Adam and felt the arms tighten around him. He couldn't remember another time in his life when he'd felt this happy. They lay silently for a little while.

'I don't want this to end,' Mulder whispered into the darkness. It was so hard to let the words escape when he had always kept his needs silent and locked away. Something bitter inside him mocked the words - the slowly fading ghosts of his miserable teenage years. *In your dreams, Mulder. Why would he want a screw-up like you? He's only doing this because he's sorry for you.*

'Nobody said it had to,' Adam said. He sounded on the very edge of sleep. Mulder moved so his face rested against the short, soft hair. He lay awake for a little while longer, getting used to the strange and wonderful feeling of a warm, breathing body next to his own. Sleep came eventually, of course, and that night, again, there were no nightmares.

*****

On the plane towards Paris, Mulder smiled at the memory of that night. As first times went, it probably didn't get much better than that. Adam had been gentle and considerate - not something he could say about many of his later lovers. The fact that it had been a guy who'd taken his virginity hadn't bothered him as much as he'd always thought it would have. Somewhere, deep inside him, he'd always known what he was. It was as simple as that, and the confirmation had been a relief, not a shock.

*****

July 15 1979 6.05am

The next day they finished packing and left the camp in Adam's battered stationwagon at first light, before anyone else was awake. To Mulder it felt like an escape, furtive and somehow exhilarating. He shifted restlessly in his seat as the stationwagon crawled and bumped along the mud track.

'This feels so weird. Great but really weird.'

Adam smiled beside him. 'Feels like we're getting away. Did you leave a note for Herb?'

'You think I should have done?'

'It might have been an idea. We could go back..'

'Oh no,' Mulder said, with considerable emphasis. 'I'm never going back to that camp. I'm never even coming back to Maine again.'

'Maine has been forever tainted for you, huh?'

'Yeah. Maybe that's being unfair. I'm sure it has its good points...'

'Trees. Lakes. Moose. LL Bean. The highest ratio of lobster related souvenirs to people in the entire US...'

'I'm never coming back here again.'

Adam shrugged. 'I guess it's lucky there's another 51 states left for you to hang out in. Have you got the map?'

'We don't turn off this road for another eighteen miles. What if Herb comes after us?'

'He's not even going to be awake for another four or five hours. He's going to have a hard time finding us with that kind of head start.'

'Unless one of the others wakes him. Can we drive faster?'

'As long as it's understood you're paying any speeding tickets.'

Mulder grinned suddenly. 'I just thought. I've never made out on the back seat of a car either.'

'I thought you were in a hurry. We're never going to get to Vermont if we keep stopping.'

'Ok. But let's drive faster.'

They drove faster.

July 16 - Early September 1979

From Maine to Vermont - in the end they took it slowly, and spent a night in a motel on the way. As they travelled west the countryside grew wilder and more beautiful. More peaceful too. They stayed away from the tourist trails, travelling on the back roads instead, past lonely farms and gas stations, until even those ran out, as they turned north, towards Quebec, on roads that grew narrower and quieter until they became little more than tracks.

They found the place that Mulder had read about, or somewhere within fifty miles of it, anyway. Mulder didn't care. It was huge, lonely and beautiful, like a place out of a dream. But now there were the things that itched at him, just a couple of things that hadn't added up.

The first, when he'd been unpacking:

'Christ, what is this?'

'What, Mulder?'

'Wrapped in your spare sleeping bag... some kind of sword...'

'Oh yeah. I got it in an estate sale just after I got here. It's only a reproduction but it's a pretty good one.'

'It looks old... Jesus, it's razor sharp!'

'That's why it stays wrapped up. Did you cut yourself?'

'Just my thumb.'

'Hold on. I think there's a first aid kit somewhere in this car. It was that sharp when I bought it. I didn't have time to take the edge off.'

'You sound like you know a lot about swords.'

'Nah, not really. Just interested in that period in history. I thought it would look good hanging on my wall. Sometimes I do some martial arts. Kenjetsu, that stuff.'

'Christ, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near when you were swinging that thing around.'

'That's kind of the point...'

***

Too much explanation, Mulder's FBI instincts told him. Too casual. And Adam had a sword, a razor sharp sword, which he knew how to use. Penniless grad students didn't go to estate sales and buy swords. And if they did, they showed them around to other guys, they didn't hide them deep in the recesses of their stationwagons. Shit.

***
The second thing that bothered him had been a couple of days later. A perfect evening, Mulder remembered, when they climbed the mountainside to watch the skies. It was quiet, but not truly silent. The distant noises of the evening birds rose from the darkening forest below, and the sound of the wind through the pines. There was no sign of any other human anywhere around them, only forest and mountain. They sat together in silence for a moment, and watched the sky. After a while Adam pulled a blanket from his pack.

'You brought that all the way up here?'

'We may as well be comfortable, kid. It's not going to get any warmer.'

The blanket was large enough to wrap around two people, but only if they sat close together. Adam sat against his pack, and Mulder lay back against him, head resting on his shoulder. Adam's arms came around him loosely, wrapping them both in the blanket. Mulder closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing against the warmth of his friend's body.

'Adam, this is just so great,' he said after a while.

'Yeah, I know.'

'Adam?'

'Yes?'

'We still haven't... you know... Fucked.' He squirmed against Adam and smiled as the arms came around him a little tighter.

'Kid, we're not exactly equipped for anything like that at the moment..'

'We could go and find a drugstore.'

'It's going to be quite a trek to the nearest all-night drugstore.'

'We could take the car.'

'I think we're talking Boston here, Mulder.'

'Oh.'

Adam smiled and kissed the top of Mulder's head, where the dark hair was ruffling in the cool breeze. The last of the sunlight bathed them both in gold. Above them the sky was deep blue, darkening towards the east.

'Adam?'

'Yeah?'

'You'd be the first. I guess you already know that. But.. I'd be safe for you.'

'I know. And there's nothing you're going to catch from me, but I don't want to rush things.. Anyhow, if we do that we're going to need lube as well as condoms.'

'Lube?' Mulder said uncertainly. 'Sounds like something you use to fix up your car with.'

Adam kissed him again.
'Yeah, I guess it does,' he said easily.

'I know it hurts...' Mulder said. He couldn't quite keep his voice even.

'I wouldn't hurt you. Trust me.'

They sat in a comfortable silence and watched the sun go down.
In the valley a long way below the lights of a car passed down the road.

'Someone got pretty lost,' Mulder commented. 'First car I've seen all week.'

'Hmm?' Adam said sleepily from just behind him.

'A car. Down on the valley road.'

Adam sat up abruptly. 'Where's he heading?'

'Towards us, I guess.'

'There's nothing here except us and our campsite. Can you see what kind of car it is?'
Mulder squinted into the trees and shook his head.

'Too far away yet.'

Adam's eyes narrowed.
'I'd better get back down, kid. It might not be anything, but it could be trouble. Just wait up here.'

'No way. I'm coming with you.'

'Then if anything happens, just stay out of sight.'

Twenty minutes later they ran back into their tiny campsite.
Adam moved quickly and surely over the rocks, even through the darkness of the evening, and so arrived first. Mulder came behind, more cautiously. The other car had stopped beside Adam's, its lights still shining into the trees. As they approached the hiss of a police radio cut through the noises of the forest.

Adam slowed as he neared the camp and walked out through the trees, giving the two patrolmen there plenty of time to see and hear him. From behind him Mulder saw his friend's hand move in a quickly suppressed gesture he hadn't recognised then.

***

He knew it now, though - the movement of hand towards weapon.
Shit shit shit.

***
'You Adam Pierson?' one of the men asked. The man who spoke was the younger. He seemed nervous. The other was older, with a tired, friendly face and a balding head.

'Uh.. yeah. What's the problem, officer?'

'We got a missing persons report on a Fox Mulder, last seen being driven away in your car. Is he here?'

Mulder came out of the trees behind Adam, still breathless.

'I'm here. What's going on?'

Adam shrugged. 'Someone reported you missing, kid. You did call your parents, didn't you?'

'I left a message on my mom's answering machine a couple of days back,' Mulder said.

'The report was filed by a Herbert Jenks,' the older patrolman said.

'Herb?'

Adam raised his eyes to the heavens. 'Now why aren't I surprised?'

'You're here of your own free will, Mr Mulder?'

'Uh... yeah. Of course.' Mulder said, in genuine bewilderment.

'May I talk with you privately, Mr Mulder?'

'Why?' Mulder asked, a little hotly.

'Kid, there's no need to make an issue out of it,' Adam said, spreading his hands. 'I'll wait over by the car.'

It had taken about half an hour for explanations to be made to the satisfaction of both cops.

Mulder stood beside him as they watched the police car head back down the dirt track. He said uncertainly: 'Adam, I'm sorry. I can't believe Herb did that.'

'It's not a problem, kid. Really.'

'He told them you'd.. you know. Seduced me or something.'

'Little did they know, huh?' Adam said, still watching the car depart with narrowed eyes.

'I told them nothing happened.'

Adam sighed.
'Kid, they were just concerned, that's all. Giving you a way out if you needed it.'

'Yeah. I guess so.'

'C'mon. Let's get the fire started. It's too cold to head back up now.'

'Still got that blanket?' Mulder asked.

'Maybe that beer's cooled down by now,' Adam mused contentedly.

***
And that had been it, Mulder thought. Panic over. At the time, of course, he'd been pissed at Herb, and humiliated, but that had passed. With hindsight, he realised that Herb had probably been right to have worried, despite his overreaction. Mulder himself had dealt with far too many missing persons cases that had started exactly the same way. He knew and trusted Adam, but Adam hadn't told him one damn thing about himself. And now, eighteen years later, the doubts and fears were starting to rise again. Adam had dealt with the police car pretty calmly. Of course he had. It was obvious now that he'd been expecting something worse, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to leave Mulder behind.
Why would a grad student from Paris choose to spend the summer in a dump like Drake's commune? Because he was in trouble. Because he was hiding from something, or someone. The cop in the diner notwithstanding it didn't have anything to do with the law, but maybe it had a lot to do with the sword that had been so conveniently explained away.
Mulder sighed. His head was thick from lack of sleep. Maybe things would seem clearer in the morning their plane was hurtling towards at a speed of hundreds of miles an hour.

****

They'd stayed in the mountains for about a week, then headed back down through the Green Mountains, back towards Massachusetts, camping in the woods or beside rivers, eating in diners, sleeping with two bags zipped together. The sex had been infrequent, but when it happened, very sweet. In the end, they hadn't made love. It would have been too much, too intense, for what they had - a relationship more about friendship and companionship than about passion. And in the end September came; too quickly. After far too little time, they were travelling back down the familiar roads towards Martha's Vineyard. Gas stations and stores that in a former life, he'd passed almost every day. Where his dad had stopped for gas, where his mom had gone shopping. The K-mart where he'd almost ended up spending the summer working. The streets he'd ridden along on his bicycle, doing his paper round. All different now, and somehow smaller. He'd outgrown them. He was ready for something new.

'You're really getting a flight back tomorrow?' he asked Adam, after a silence that had lasted several miles.

'Yeah. Tomorrow evening. Out of La Guardia.'

'I didn't realise you had to go so soon. You should have said something. I'm sure mom wouldn't mind if you wanted to stay tonight.'

'I should get back to New York today.' Adam gave him a sideways smile, to ease the pain of that small rejection. 'But thanks for the offer.'

'Will you write to me?'

'I don't know where I'm going to be. That's why I need to get back so early. To find a place to stay.'

'When I get an address in halls, I'll write to you. Care of the university, I mean.'

'I'll look forward to it.' Adam gave him a sidelong look. 'You going to be OK, kid?'

'Yeah. I think so.'

'You'll be fine.'

He wanted them to kiss, but in Martha's Vineyard in 1979 guys didn't kiss, at all. Not that they did in 1997 either. A brief, tight embrace was all Mulder dared, and then he was offloading his bags onto the drive while his mom watched from the door of the house, looking older and more tired than he remembered. His dad drove up about ten minutes later. They didn't invite Adam in, and that made Mulder angry. In his mind he glossed over the cold, painful argument that had followed when Adam had driven away, down a street green with suburban leaves and filled with bird song. No point in bringing up that old pain. Something had changed irrevocably between himself and his parents, who had seemed both more united that they had been when he had left and somehow a little afraid of him. And the old arguments and the old blackmail didn't work on him as well as they once had, and he knew from that moment on that his choices were going to be his own and not father's any more.

A day or so later, passing a used car lot on the edge of town, he saw the stationwagon for sale and guessed that Adam must have taken the bus back to New York. He'd stood looking at it for a while, and wondered vaguely how Adam had shipped all his junk because there was no way he could have taken it as hand luggage, all the while waiting for the hard knot that had risen in his chest to ease away again.

He knew, of course, that Adam had been bored, and had seen his vulnerability and his need and had liked him, a little, then more than a little. And they'd found pleasure and even joy in each other's company, and whatever the pain of parting, Mulder knew that the friendship at least had been real, and something special. Mulder had always known that he was damaged goods, but with Adam it hadn't mattered. He hadn't cared. And there was perhaps a week after Mulder returned home when he hadn't been able to sleep, when the world seemed empty without the other's face, his voice, the touch of his hand, when he missed him almost every hour of every day. If Samantha had been there he would have told her, but now there was no-one he could tell, so he kept it locked deep inside him. His mind shied away from the word 'love', but part of him knew that being in love and then losing someone had to feel something like this.

Then, of course, two weeks later he stood in the concourse at Heathrow airport, rucksack heavy on his back, fumbling with unfamiliar currency and dates written in a different order and the concept of slow fast food. Lost in the slightly frightening but not entirely unpleasant feeling of being a stranger alone in a new land. Then there had been Oxford, and a whole new world of distractions and changes. His plans to go to Paris and find Adam had been curtailed, partly by a lack of money, partly by a lack of time and partly by the fear that Adam didn't want to be found.
So, he'd sent a postcard, care of the University of Paris. It was never answered, but part of him had never stopped hoping that one day it would be.

And now he was on the flight that maybe he should have taken eighteen years ago, descending through the sky towards Aeroport Orly, Paris. Two headless bodies, too many swords, a hippy commune in Maine and the first guy he'd ever loved. He was damned if he could join the dots on this one.

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