The rattling of the windows and the groaning in the siding only made her feel somehow warmer and sleepier. She was curled up on the bed writing in her journal, listening with half an ear to the rage of the blizzard outside. The fire crackled merrily in the corner, keeping her company as it had for all the time that Mulder had been gone.

There was not much paper left in the notebook, but Mulder had brought her several empty ones, thank god. her condition left her with few options for things to do. Because she was basically excluded from most of the physical work that needed to be done in their little commune, she ended up spending a great deal of her time writing just to keep from going insane. The storm made it worse by relegating her to the indoors. She would be very glad when she was able to move around at a speed above a snails-crawl and stand up without assistance from a crane.

Three pages of tight, neat script later and she was fighting to stay awake. Morning it might have been, but the darkness of the snow outside made it seem like dusk. This was the sort of day she remembered from her childhood snow-days. No school, it was the best of all worlds. Real, honest-to-god free time. She and Melissa and Charlie would troop out into the icy cold complete with warm coats, mitten and sleds...oblivious to the discomfort in their fingers and toes. Happy just to have that stolen time away from school and the pressures of childhood.

She smirked sleepily to herself, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against her upraised hand. How people went on and on about the joy and innocence and freedom of being a kid. If they could go back they would remember that it was just as trying as adulthood, it was all just a matter of perspective. School cliques, bullies, allowance and a lack of freedom were a child's life.

So vulnerable to the whims of adults. Innocence was perhaps the wrong word. More like naive and impressionable.

Her mind drifted as her hand touched her belly, feeling the baby kicking against her with a numb disconnectedness and a sad frown. This child wouldn't have any of that. He or she would have a whole new set of life rules to follow. She and Mulder would be flying sans net. If the newborn didn't immediately succumb to the virus that its parents were immune to, it would be growing up in a tough world. No swingsets or action figures or Chuck E. Cheeses.

Her lashes were drifting down over her eyes, the words of her handwriting blurring into a uniform gray. The banging on her door startled her fully awake, her heart leaping to arms and thudding hard against her ribcage.

Heaving herself up off the bed she automatically reached for the gun that she'd set on the table the night before. Its absence made her frown, but she immediately reasoned that Mulder must have taken it by accident.

She unbarred the door cautiously and peered out into the blowing snow. Shanida stood there, tiny in her coat, her dark brown hair spiraling this way and that in the wind, panicked eyes wide and filled with tears.

"Shan?-"

"My Mama!" Shan wailed, reaching in to tug on Scully's hand. "Please! My Mama! There's a fire!"

That was when she smelled the smoke.

Scully yanked her coat on and ran out into the snow, her senses immediately overwhelmed by the howl of the wind whipping across the snow. The fire was fanning itself to greater heights in the maelstrom, the orange-red of the flames leaping and sizzling in the wet of the storm. With mounting horror she saw that Jenn's cabin was likewise in flames, and an orange glow in the woods told her that Roz and Anna's was burning too. Everyone else had gone out looking for the damned Elk.

She didn't hesitate. There was no way she was going to be able to put out the fire, she had to simply get Cissy out.

"Stay right here!" she yelled at Shan over the wailing wind, her voice sharp enough to cut. The little girl stayed. She plunged through the enormous drifts, staggered by the amount of snow that had accumulated just since the day before. One hand lifted to shield her eyes from the stinging ice bits that blew mercilessly into her face, her gloveless fingers growing quickly numb.

The fire was almost a blessed warmth. For a moment only...and then the heat quickly became a blazing foe, searing into her skin and burning her eyes. Sparks flew wildly around in the winds, threatening to catch in her hair, her clothes as she made her way to the door of the cabin.

The door was jammed shut from the outside. It took only a moment to realize that someone had shoved little chips of wood into the cracks between the door and the frame, making it nearly impossible to open. She struggled wildly against it for a moment, hearing the shouts of Cissy on the other side...her frantic pounding on the door. The windows were tiny, far too small to afford an exit.

She cast around for a tool, anything to use to unjam the door. Cissy's screams were getting louder but less frequent. The smoke was getting to her. A sudden pain lanced up her abdomen and she gritted her teeth, not against the hurt, but against the very thought of it.

There, against the side of the house, a mound of snow spoke of the stump that was used as a chopping block. With luck, the ax would be nearby. Abandoning the inferno of the stoop, she waded hip deep through the drift that had pressed itself up against the side of the house and began to use her bare fingers to dig in the snow.

Another pain doubled her over just as her fingers closed around the cold, hard shaft of something. Grabbing and yanking it with all her strength, she took a deep breath against the pain and withdrew the ax with something akin to terrified victory.

Flames had started to lick at the edges of the front of the cabin, curling up around the eaves with greedy abandon. The half-light of the storm was painted an eerie orange-red, giving the snow a bloody taint as she came back to the door and lifted the ax with everything she had, driving it clumsily towards the offending shims. Splinters flew from the frame, the blade missing the chips, but gouging alongside the top one instead. Another try and another, and finally, she sliced into the icy pine, freeing the top culprit. The second followed with only one blow and she wrenched the smoking door open.

Cissy tumbled out into the snow, choking and coughing, a smoldering wet blanket cloaking her head and shoulders. Scully caught a glimpse of the inside of the cabin, the room a living surface of flame, the entire east wall engulfed.

Staggering back, she let the third violent spasm wash over her, falling to her knees in the snow, her arms clutching over her abdomen. Her mind hadn't fully processed the fact that Cissy had been locked inside her cabin from the outside, but she did know that she still had to help Jenn and Roz.

Her cold-numbed fingers still clutched the ax hasp and she rose to her feet just in time to see Jenn's cabin collapse in on itself in a great blossom of flame. Her mouth dropped open and she could feel the distant echoes of shock battering at her shields.

Someone was tugging at her shoulder and she blinked into Cissy's plump, ash-smudged face, still clutching tightly to the older woman's arm.

"Dana, look at me." Scully's eyes met the firm gaze of the other's. "*I'll* go help Roz and Anna, you get back inside now! Shan, you make her get back inside!" Cissy's voice was reduced to a whisper against the wind and the sound of her own pain in her ears. She loosened a grip that no longer felt like her own and Cissy staggered out into the blur of the storm, her blanket still wrapped around her.

Shanida was pulling at her arm ineffectually, her little tear-strained face pale under the dark skin.

"Come on Dr. Scully, Mama says we have to get inside." Her voice was lost in the wind, but Scully saw her lips move, felt the urgency behind them. She let the little girl help her to her feet, curling her right arm protectively around her belly, praying that the pains would stop. The other hand still clasped the ax in a death grip.

Oh please don't ....she wouldn't even let herself finish the thought.

The door of her cabin loomed comfortingly before her.

Shut tight. That gave her pause, her investigator's mind, never dulled by things like panic and pain, reminding her that she had left it wide open when she'd rushed out into the blizzard. Her hand curled more tightly around Shan's little fingers.

The calm yellow square of light that bespoke her cabin's lone window, beckoned. She stretched her neck slightly to see inside and her breath froze in her throat as she spotted Denny, calm and smiling, sitting on her bed...cradling her missing gun.

The pieces that fell into place made no sense. A distorted Cubist puzzle. Denny had her gun? Why had he gone inside her cabin while she'd been struggling to free Cissy from her living furnace?

Because, her mind supplied calmly, he set the fire. He jammed the door. There is no one else here.

Another pain ripped through her belly and she bent over, feeling a red hot poker thrust into her. She wasn't sure what to be more afraid of. The 15 year old stroking her gun or the cramping of her uterus.

"Come on," Shan was tugging more insistently at her now, "Mama said to take you inside!" The young voice was nearly lost in the wind.

"We can't go in there, Shan." Scully said. "We have to hide." Where those words came from, she didn't know, but they were true.

Shan, to her credit, didn't ask why. She blinked up at Scully, dark crinkly hair coated with a carpet of white...fear in her eyes.

"I know where we can go."

This was stupid.

What had his life been changed into that they were wandering around in a snowstorm looking for a herd of Elk?

Lloyd insisted that the storm would work in their favor, even though they could no longer see any sign of tracks. The Elk, if they were actually up here...which was doubtful, would bed down to wait out the storm. They needed to find a heavily wooded area with a good wind break, and they would find the herd.

Regardless of that, here he was, originally an academic...used to using his mind to solving dilemmas...forging through freezing winds and zero visibility and generally freezing his balls off. This whole pregnancy thing was just a scam to keep Scully inside and warm while he had to go out into the wilderness and play Alley Oop.

Thoughts of Scully reminded him of his main reason for being out here to begin with and he let his eyes scour his companions until they found the reddish blur that spoke of Hobb Strick.

The man had seemed a little more lucid as they had slogged through the snow, saying little but not resorting to the off-key humming that had been his hallmark since he'd appeared the night before. Mulder's textbooks would say that humming was the attempt of the disturbed mind to distract itself from thoughts it didn't want to have.

Textbooks aside, he wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't an act. He knew that Hobb had been to the Ranch where the family had been murdered, but whether or not it was before or after the deed was a mystery.

He dropped his pace a little, falling back out of his place in the line to where Hobb staggered unevenly through the snow.

"Why did you want to talk to Scully?" he asked, staring through the whirling flakes at Hobb's profile. The man was gazing almost sightlessly into the snow.

"She reminded me of my daughter. Hmmm. My Margerie." he whispered, his hands pantomiming the bulging stomach of a pregnant woman. Mulder was certain that the man didn't even know his own hands were moving.

He felt his hands clench involuntarily in their gloves as a rush of ice that had nothing to do with the storm rushed up his spine.

The one connection to the Farm that he hadn't thought of.

"What happened, Hobb?" Mulder murmured, keeping his voice steady and undemanding, playing his hunch.

"He locked them up in the dining room. It was in the center of the house, there weren't no windows. He just locked them in there, jammed the doors with something." The old man shook his head. "I never woulda guessed that he'd be so angry. I knew about what Carl was doin' to the boys, but I didn't interfere. It wasn't my bizness. That's what Margie always told me. Always told me, hmmm?"

Mulder had no idea what the man was talking about, but he didn't press him. Instead he just nodded sympathetically while he kicked himself for not realizing how damaged Hobb really was. His ludicrously confrontational air the night before was the complete opposite of the tack he should have taken with the man. Some psychologist he was.

"Shame about Margie," he bluffed, trying to draw Hobb out.

"Terrible." The old man's voice was shaky with tears now. He still stared straight ahead into the hypnotic gaze of the swirling flakes. "She deserved better than Carl. I always said so. My little girl. She took me in when my Catherine died. Such a gentle thing. Too gentle for him. Wha..." he shook his head, suddenly stopping in the snow. "What kind of monster could do that to his own mother, hmmm?"

Mulder already knew what 'he' had done to his mother.

"How did you get out of the fire?" he asked gently, his eyes drawn to the burn scars on the man's cheeks.

"Hmmm. I was in the cellar when Denny lit the house. He musta forgot about me down there. I was able to get out. He was gone by then...but I saw what he had done to my girl. Poor Margie...hmmm." Hobb turned and looked Mulder right in the eyes. "I thought I saw him the other morning, thought I saw him...hmmm." He hung his head, his lips starting to mouth words to himself, the humming starting up again.

Mulder was stunned for a long, drawn-out moment.

"Denny? Our Denny?"

The little boy, Denny?

Not so little, Mulder, not so little. Nearly as tall as you. Strong from a life of working on a farm. 15 yes, but age was no prerequisite for madness. He'd been found in the woods by Lloyd not too long after Mulder'd dated the murder at the Farm. They'd taken a goddamned monster into their midst.

A monster that had a cute, harmless crush on Scully.

"What is it Mulder?" Chris had spotted the look on his face and he'd stopped when Mulder had, his eyes moving from Hobb to Mulder and back.

Hobb was forgotten. Chris was ignored. So were the rest of the hunters. He spun awkwardly in his snowshoes and began to run as fast as he could. Barely noticing when Chris, after a moment's hesitation, took up at his heels.

I waited for her.

It was only a matter of time before she came back. She couldn't get too far in the deep snow, and I'd already seen that she was trying to rescue stupid, fat Cissy.

Her gun felt heavy and smooth in my hands, the metal warmed from my touch. My dad had taught all of us boys to use weapons. Too bad we never used them on him. I'd done one better, though, I'd fried him like a marshmallow in a campfire. I only wish I could have seen it.

It wouldn't have been like watching my traitorous bitch-mother die though. My dad would have never begged. He would have never pleaded and sobbed and looked at me with fear in his eyes.

It wouldn't have been worth it.

The fire was dying in the corner and I briefly considered rekindling it so it was nice and warm in here by the time she returned. It would be soon now.

That was when I saw a shadow move outside the window, a ghost in the snow, a shape against the illumination of the cabin I peered from. I cupped my hands around my eyes and pressed my nose to the cold glass, squinting out into the murk of the storm.

There, lit in orange paint against white-gray, were two figures. One large and one small. Scully and Shanida. I grimaced momentarily at the thought that Shan hadn't died in the fire...she'd always reminded me of Lila. A worthless little nuisance.

I quickly pulled my coat from the rack and bundled up carefully. No need to hurry, how fast could Dana go in this snow? Tucking the gun safely into my pocket, I stepped out into the blizzard.

Scully didn't know where the little girl was leading her. It could be nowhere, she might be dragging her out into the middle of the forest. All she knew was that it was uphill, she couldn't see more than two feet in front of her face and the snow was up to her chest.

It was small consolation that there seemed to be somewhat of a beaten trail, what hadn't been filled in by wind-blown snow. She followed the child, step by painful step, her breath heaving and steaming in the frigid air, forcing her legs to move. Ignoring the ripping pain that lanced through her at more and more regular intervals.

Was it premature labor? God no. Please no. She couldn't be having the baby now. Not after everything.

She couldn't even get up the breath to ask Shan where they were going. She simply struggled upwards and onwards into the maelstrom, trying to count her steps in an attempt to recognize the passage of time. Sweat alternately beaded and froze on her face, stray dampened strands of hair stiffened with ice.

The eight-year old was still wearing her snowshoes, but they did little good in the soft, powdery, dry drifts. Their pace was little over a crawl and Scully risked a look over her should to see if they were being pursued.

There was nothing in the soup of the storm. And somehow that was even more frightening that seeing a pursuer. Another spear of agony wrenched her to a stop and she huddled over herself for a long moment, simply breathing hard gasping breaths.

"Come on, it's not much farther.." Shan urged. The girl didn't sound that frightened, just a little upset.. and Scully reminded herself that she likely didn't know that Denny had lit the fires...hadn't see the boy sitting with her missing gun.

She forced her burning muscles to move, made her lift her legs and continue up the slope that wasn't ending.

A massive blackish shape rose up out of the blizzard, towering over her and Shan. A cliff face. The pressure on her hand tugged her forward almost right up against it, and then there was a break in the rock...a slash of dark calm. Shan's little hands were pushing her towards the entrance and she crouched down, sliding down from the height of the snowpack into the opening, a mini-avalanche following her in.

It was still icy cold, but the wind was broken. It battered and howled against the rock face futilely, but found no entry. She scooted a little further into the passage, seeing that it traveled back into the rock a ways, but waiting for Shan.

The little girl tumbled into the mouth a minute later, withdrawing a tiny flashlight to fight the darkness of the cavern. The snow had nearly blocked the entire opening, rendering the interior in an impenetrable half-gloom. As soon as the light flicked on, Shan screamed.

There, half buried in the snow that had encroached into the entryway, was Pike.