WHEN A TREE FALLS.... by mabtng Disclaimer: As usual, everyone and everything in this story belongs to the omnipotent Chris Carter and 10-13 Productions...only the story idea is mine. It is not intended for commercial reproduction. Feel free to pass it along to your friends, but please leave my name and this message attached. For Tasha: the fur-shedding, Cheyenne canine foot-warming wonder who keeps Rolla safe ; ) ******************************************* "When a tree falls in the forest and there is no one around to hear it, does it make any noise?" ******************************************* WHEN A TREE FALLS.... by mabtng PROLOGUE 2 Elm Street Caveton, South Dakota Dr. Franklin Kehoe sat at the battered desk, his trembling hands framing his head. Years of research...years of his life... They had led to this moment. And this moment of truth was too horrible to contemplate any longer. He stared at his journal once again. The entry was finished. He picked up the black ink pen and firmly pressed it to the paper, signing his name one last time. Kehoe closed the journal and stood. The desktop was neat and tidy, and he wanted it to stay that way. He reached down and grabbed the industrial sized clear plastic garbage bag. He covered the desk and the journal methodically....making sure that each and every inch was properly covered and protected. He sighed and examined his handiwork. He couldn't help feeling that he had forgotten something. It was like a nagging brain cramp that insisted that an iron had been left plugged in...the oven left on...a feeling that usually only occurred after one was on vacation and three hundred miles away from home. He shrugged. He was too tired to worry anymore. Besides, there wasn't anyone left to care anyway. He resignedly made his way across the room, taking care to avoid the red liquid that had puddled on the wooden floorboards. He caught himself as he stepped over one large pool and laughed. He was actually concerned about dirtying his shoes! His laughter quickly turned into something new to his ears...on any other day he would have called it maniacal...desperate. He bent over and removed the tool from the hand of his dead companion. She had made her exit quickly...too horrified to cope with the consequences of their discoveries...wanting to join everyone else...wherever they were. He looked into her unseeing blue eyes for one last moment. He understood exactly how she had felt. He whispered a quick goodbye. Kehoe moved back to his chair, straightening his jacket as he sat down. Even at this moment, he was meticulous, scientific, in his neatness. He opened his mouth and raised the object in his hand. No one was present to hear the crack of the gunshot. ********************* CHAPTER ONE July 26, 1997 1000 hours Somewhere in Southwest South Dakota Special Agent Fox Mulder sat in the passenger seat of the rental car and for the umpteenth time tried to fold the obnoxious road map in his hands. Who designed these things anyway? The map quickly increased in size as Mulder tried to break its secret folding code. Throughout, he kept a watchful eye on his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully, as she maneuvered the car down the South Dakota highway. He knew that he would not have to wait very long before an acerbic remark passed her lips. He was right. "Mulder, think 'accordion'...." she offered helpfully, with only a hint of her amusement. Mulder stared at her for a moment and raised one eyebrow, mimicking his partner's oft-practiced mug of sarcasm. "I've got a better idea," he began. "I'll think 'trash'." With one quick move he wadded the entire map into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder into the backseat. Scully sighed and returned her attention to the lonely stretch of road ahead. She knew that Mulder had already memorized the route to the small town of Caveton. She trusted him to give her the right directions...she trusted him. The bright sunlight bounced off the pavement in the distance causing a mirage that made the road seem to disappear...or perhaps it was covered in a shimmering silver lake of imaginary water. Scully knew first hand the tricks that eyes could play on their owners. In the years that she had worked with Mulder, she had "seen" many things. Unfortunately, there was usually little concrete proof left afterwards to verify what she had seen with her own two eyes. The mirage ahead danced once again and, as the car drew closer, it simply vanished. Scully looked farther down the road to find that the mirage had taken up a new residence. It was amazing how she and Mulder were always chasing these things....and how they always managed to stay just out of reach...but always just within their sight. Mulder watched the expression on his partner's face. She had already entered her professional "case" mode. In fact, her face had taken on its mask the moment he received the phone call yesterday from Assistant Director Skinner. Six days ago, a prominent scientist and his assistant had disappeared in the middle of an experiment on federally protected lands near the Black Hills of South Dakota. The missing scientist, Franklin Kehoe, and his assistant, Carolyn Renfoir, had ventured into an old gold mine there to conduct several experiments on the origins of the earth. They had never come out. A remote camera had been set up inside the tunnel to document their discoveries. The recorder in their trailer a short distance from the site had taped the movements of Kehoe and Renfoir up until their disappearance. The other researchers involved in the project had gone into the mine a short time later and had retrieved several pieces of equipment, but found no clue concerning the whereabouts of Kehoe and Renfoir. And now, for some unknown reason they apparently were refusing to go back in to investigate further. Mulder and Scully had viewed the silent tape. The time and date stamp framed the video. Kehoe had been examining lines in the rock wall that was at the end of the tunnel. Renfoir moved to his side when he suddenly motioned to her. Then, a bright light flared across the scene. The camera was jostled and fell over onto the ground. The last discernible image was of Renfoir's right shoe as she evidently ran toward the mine entrance. Then the picture abruptly stopped. Renfoir never made it and neither did Kehoe. Somewhere between that solid rock face and the mouth of the mine, they had simply vanished. Mulder ran a hand through his plane mussed hair. After reading the files on the missing scientist, he had already come to feel a certain affinity toward him. Kehoe had come under fire recently in the scientific community for disputing the veracity of time-honored methods of dating artifacts...methods that then were also used to date the earth itself. This research project had been set up in hope of finding facts to thoroughly debunk all of the sacred beliefs of the scientific community at large. Mulder realized, and Scully had quickly pointed out, that the purpose behind the project was in itself enough reason to suspect some sort of foul play...or it could merely be a case of grandstanding by Kehoe to draw attention to his beliefs. But, there was something about the videotape they had watched...there was something about the light... Mulder sincerely hoped that he would have a chance to talk to this renegade. After all, they were kindred spirits. The road now wound through a dense covering of evergreens. Scully had to resist the urge to stick her head out the window to take a deep breath of the pine scented air. Forty minutes later, they had reached their destination. Caveton was hardly a town. It was more like a set of buildings, some twenty miles from the nearest neighbor. It had been deserted in the 1930's and no one had come back until recently, when Kehoe and his crew had finally found a reason to revive the ghost "town." It was easy to figure out where to go. All of the cars in town, all four of them, were parked in front of one building...what looked to be the headquarters for the project. Mulder noted the address, 2 Elm Street. Not Main Street as in most towns...no, instead they went for the ever popular tree nomenclature. He pointed the street sign out to Scully. "I knew this case would give me nightmares..." Scully ignored him and headed for the front door of the two-story building. Before she could knock, the door swung open. A very large man in a park ranger uniform looked down at her. He looked her over from head to toe, ignoring Mulder altogether. He lifted his hand, pushed his hat back on his head and smiled. "You must be the FBI types...." he began. "I'm Agent Scully...this is Agent Mulder," she pulled out her identification as Mulder mirrored her actions. "And you are?" "I'm sorry....I'm Officer Rick Walters...I'm with the Park Service. The mine where Dr. Kehoe disappeared is surrounded by Park Service land." Mulder forcibly bit back a "Ranger Rick" comment as Walters showed them into the front office. Scully was obviously thinking the same thing, but doing a better job of covering her feelings. Mulder had already detected the stiffness in her back and jaw the moment Walters had given her the once over. He was fully confident that Scully could handle this Cro-magnon man on her own. Walters offered the agents coffee and Scully gratefully took a cup of the steaming liquid. Walters motioned for them to take a seat. "Where is everyone else?" Scully asked. "Oh...they'll be back in a sec. Everybody ran next door to get a bite to eat...that's where the kitchen is...." Walters sat down. He stared at Scully and Mulder again. "Is there something wrong?" Scully asked. Mulder repressed a smile. He knew that Scully was setting this guy up. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I just didn't expect ya'll to show up here in such fancy clothes. Didn't anyone tell you about where these folks disappeared?" Scully swallowed the reply she had thought she was going to need. Maybe this ranger wasn't too bad after all...and he was kind of charming...in a rugged sort of way. She had spent too many years on defense. She shook her head and cleared her throat. Mulder saved her the effort. "Agent Scully and I have our luggage in the car. We'll change before we head up there." "Sounds like a plan to me," Walters smiled. Mulder wasn't entirely sure, but it certainly looked as though he had winked at Scully. His eyes narrowed. Now, *he* would be on alert. The front door opened and six scientist types walked into the office. Walters stood up quickly to make introductions. "These are the folks from the FBI...Agent Scully and Agent Mulder..." A man with dark hair and a bad case of acne stepped forward. He looked to be around twenty-five years old...the oldest in the group. "I'm Michael Cort. I was on the project with Dr. Kehoe...and that's Wayne Smythe...he was on it too. Everyone else just came up from the university to help us pack up our gear." "Well, Mr. Cort," began Mulder. "We need to speak to you and Mr. Smythe then." He turned to Walters. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk to these men?" "You can stay here, Agent Mulder. I'll take the others next door...I'm getting hungry anyway." Walters led the young students outside as Mulder and Scully sat down with Cort and Smythe. "I can save you both a lot of time...we were both in the trailer and we didn't see anything. We have no idea where Dr. Kehoe is...we just want to get out of here...." Smythe rambled quickly. Scully and Mulder exchanged glances. This was not going to work. Mulder stood and motioned toward a door in the back of the office. "What's back there?" he asked. "It's just a storage room," answered Cort. "Mr. Cort, let's go back there and talk." Cort gave a nervous glance toward Smythe, but decided to stand and follow Mulder to the room. **************** Smythe stared at Scully. His eyes reminded her of a deer that was about to become a hood ornament. Sweat was beginning to bead on his brow. "Now, Mr. Smythe. Why don't you just start at the beginning and tell me what happened..." Smythe ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair. If he had known that grad school would lead him here... "I came up here three months ago. Dr. Kehoe wanted to start measuring neutrinos at the bottom of the mine shaft. I brought the equipment up and stayed on. His work was intriguing. He questioned everything...carbon14, potassium-argon, uranium...all of the traditional methods used to date finds. He was working on the theory that the sun's energy comes from the force of its own shrinking..." "I'm familiar with the theories of von Helmholtz and Boornazian..." Scully interjected. "They believed that the sun was not 4.5 billion years old, but was actually less than 100 million years old...which would mean that the earth could not be as old as most scientists believe." Smythe's jaw dropped. "I'm surprised, Agent Scully. Most people have never heard of the theory...and certainly cannot converse about it." "Let's just say I know my way around a physics roundtable. So, why did Dr. Kehoe come here?" "There was something about the mine. He had received reports from the old miners who had evacuated the area in 1939. They reported seeing strange lights and glowing rocks. Dr. Kehoe was curious and wanted to see what was causing the phenomena. He theorized that over the ages of earth's development, the planet has been periodically bombarded by various objects from space...such as black holes and possibly even strings from other dimensions in the time space continuum. He hoped that by studying energies found around mineral deposits he could begin to understand the true history of the earth...and perhaps explain the discrepancies between dating techniques. Like, how can the earth be 4.5 billion years old AND only 100 million years old at the same time?" "And had he found anything yet?" "I have no idea. Dr. Kehoe was pretty tight-lipped until he had thoroughly evaluated all of the evidence. He was a stickler for finding proof...that was one of the reasons he rejected the traditional methods of age dating. There are too many variables that are simply accepted as fact and have no concrete proof to support them. They are theories based on theories that have become accepted as the truth." "These findings could be rather threatening to others..." Scully noted. "Yes, they could. But, Dr. Kehoe is pretty much ignored by everyone in the mainstream. They all admit that he is brilliant, but the word 'eccentric' is usually attached. Besides, the community is damn good at sweeping things under the rug. Why do you think most people haven't heard of von Helmholtz? While his ideas are very interesting and have some solid evidence to back them up, they don't fit in with the theories that are widely accepted...the theories upon which our current understandings of the universe are based." Scully could tell how passionate Kehoe must have been if this one student of his could be so consumed with this discussion. All the sweat had disappeared from Smythe's brow. He had all the symptoms of Mulder talking about UFOs. But, she had to turn the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Have there been any problems at the site before this?" "No, Agent Scully. I really don't believe this has anything to do with sabotage or anything like that..." The sweat began to bead once more. "They found something in that cave....something..." The terror had crept back into Smythe's voice. ******************** Twenty minutes later, Cort and Smythe had gone outside, leaving Mulder and Scully to discuss their respective interviews. "I'd say either he's the best actor I've ever seen or he's absolutely terrified of that cave. But, I don't think he has any idea where Kehoe and Renfoir are," Scully stated. "Neither does Cort. He says that he and Smythe were in the trailer when a bright light and a burst of heat flashed out of the tunnel. When they went into the tunnel to look for Kehoe and Renfoir, all they found was the damaged equipment. He said that the camera was actually melted." "Melted? But that would require such extreme temperatures..." "I know, Scully. I know. Maybe it's not so unreasonable that Cort and Smythe don't want to go back into the mine..." "Mulder, I'm sure there is a perfectly logical explanation for what happened to that camera...we just have to go in there and find it..." Mulder arched his brow and lowered his voice. "I'd say it's time to hit the Bat Cave, Scully." *********************** 1400 hours After a quick lunch, Mulder and Scully had changed into attire more suitable for nosing around old gold mines. The agents and the scientific entourage, along with Walters, then climbed into their cars and drove up to the mine entrance. Cort and Smythe immediately retreated to the trailer. They made it quite clear that they were not going one step closer to the mine. The four students busied themselves with packing up various pieces of equipment into their vehicles. Walters accompanied the two agents toward the trailer. He pointed to a vaguely metallic lump on the ground. "That was the camera...although the only reason I can say that is because you can still read the 'Sony' name on the front...er...what was the front." Scully knelt down to examine the blob. It was twisted and melted...but there were no signs of burning. If it had been hot enough to melt the camera, there should have been some kind of charring. Mulder looked over her shoulder and noticed why she was frowning. "Curiouser and curiouser...." he muttered. "I need to see where this camera was found," Scully stated. She stood and began to walk toward the entrance to the mine, Mulder close behind her. He noticed that Walters was hesitating. "Tell you what, Walters. Why don't you stay here with the others...just in case something happens while we're inside...no sense in all of us melting," Mulder offered. Walters fought the urge to pull at his suddenly tight collar. Melting was definitely not mentioned in his job description. "Okay, Agent Mulder. Just holler if you need anything and I'll bring it along." ******************** Mulder and Scully quietly entered the cave. The only sound was the slow drip of mineral-filled water as it worked itself into drops on the ceiling that fell to the floor. The beams from their powerful flashlights seemed to be swallowed whole by the darkness that embraced them as they continued further. All signs of the outside world soon disappeared behind them. No matter how hard he tried, it was almost impossible for Mulder to concentrate on anything other than the sound of his and Scully's breathing as it echoed around them. He tucked his left hand into his pocket. It was getting colder as they descended. After ten minutes of walking, it was bone-chilling. "I'm beginning to understand why nobody wanted to come down here with us," Mulder muttered. "And I thought it might have been something you said," Scully replied, trying to leaven the oppressive air that was only getting heavier. She was actually glad that Mulder had said something first. She was quite sure that she was getting that "something's hinkey down here" feeling...and that feeling was usually followed by a hospital visit for one of them. Scully had trained her flashlight on the ceiling and was not paying attention to where she was going. She definitely had not noticed that Mulder had stopped in front of her. She noticed it only after she ran into him, causing both of them to stagger a bit. "Sorry, Mulder." When Mulder didn't reply, she looked at his face...and then followed his gaze. He was staring at the wall of rock that blocked their path...or...to be exact...at the large gash in the wall before them. Even in the yellowish cast of the flashlight, Scully could see the glow that was emanating from the fissure. It was approximately six feet long and around six inches across. Mulder moved forward to touch the crack, but Scully grabbed his coat and pulled him back. Something was happening... "Mulder! Hang on a second...." Scully leaned forward, staring at the mystery before them. Then she realized what had caught her eye. The glow was changing color...and it was intensifying. She didn't have to say anything. Mulder could see what was happening. In fact, he could feel it. It was starting to produce heat...and it was getting hotter by the second. "Mulder, what is...." Scully began, but before she could finish, Mulder had grabbed her arm and spun her around. "Run, Scully!" He pushed her ahead as they ran up the slippery path to the outside world. Mulder could feel the heat on the back of his neck. They had to move faster. Suddenly, his feet were no longer underneath him and he was rolling on the ground. He lost his grip on Scully's coat and his flashlight fell from his hand and clattered across the rocky ground. He caught a quick glimpse of Scully as she too fell to the ground. Mulder repeatedly tried to stand, but could not get his balance back. It took several seconds for him to realize what was happening. "Earthquake!" He shouted as loudly as his lungs would allow. Rocks were now falling all around them, the roof threatening to cave in. A ferocious blast of heat roared over Mulder's head. He reflexively threw his hands over his head and face, hugging the ground with his body and holding his breath. After the heat passed over him, he chanced a look toward his partner. The pulsing effect of the strobe-like white light was blinding and hypnotic. He tucked his head beneath his arm once again. The world collapsed upon the two agents. And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. ********************** CHAPTER TWO When the rumbling began, Walters had sprinted to the entrance of the mine, straining to see down the dark tunnel, hoping to see the two agents emerge. The quaking became more intense and he was forced back as chunks of earth and rocks cascaded down around him. Then, what he would later describe as a "growl" emanated from inside the depths of the mine. It grew in intensity and soon Walters and the others were kneeling on the ground, covering their ears. A bright light flashed inside for several seconds and a great rush of heated air swept out of the opening. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. Walters staggered to his feet, his jaw still open in shock and amazement. It took several more seconds for him to remember who he was and that there were federal agents inside the mine. He ran on shaky legs over to the mine's entrance. His stomach dropped when he saw the devastation. It had completely caved in. There was no way he was going to be able to get to Mulder and Scully...and he realized that there was very little chance that they were even still alive. He ran back to his car to call for reinforcements. ************************ The first thing that Mulder was aware of was the sound of his own dust-choked coughing. The second thing he was aware of was the absolute darkness that surrounded him. He lay still for several moments, going through a mental checklist as he tried out the various and sundry parts of his body. Nothing was broken...but, he had a nice headache. It was also obvious that he had quite a few scrapes and bruises. Clearing his throat, Mulder called out, "Scully?" There was no response. He had no idea where his flashlight was...and he definitely needed something to shed a little light on the situation. He dug through the pockets of his jacket, praying that he still had that pack of matches from his last stay at the Motel Notel. He was about to give up hope when his fingers located the cheap matchbook in his zippered inside vest pocket, along with a copious amount of lint. He fumbled with them briefly as he tried to tear one match off...why did they always have to be so stubborn? One finally broke free and he lit it on the first strike, a minor miracle in itself. The match's brief life was sufficient for Mulder to quickly look around and locate a small shard of wood that looked as though it would light. He grabbed the piece and yanked it from the fallen support beam to which it was still slightly attached. It took two matches, but Mulder was able to get the wood to burn. He now had a small "torch" and could see for several feet around him. Now, he could search for his missing partner. "Scully?" Mulder called. In response, there was a pattering sound of rocks sliding across dirt, and then a short groan. "Over here, Mulder." Mulder moved across the rocks and beams carefully, working his way through the dim light to Scully's side. He was relieved to see that she did not appear to be too battered by the cave-in, but, she did seem to be trapped under several beams. "Are you okay, Scully?" Mulder questioned as he wedged his "torch" between some rocks by the wall. Then, satisfied that the area was at least marginally illuminated, he began to move some of the debris. "Would you be worried if I said that I think my name is Leon Spinks?" Scully rubbed her aching forehead with one hand. "It depends on your dental plan." "I don't think anything's broken. I just can't get out from underneath all of this mess." Scully squinted in the darkness to assess her partner's injuries as he continued to dig through the rubble. He was covered in dirt and she could see several cuts on his arms and face...and the beginning of a few bruises. Other than that, he seemed to be in one piece. All in all, not too bad for one of their escapades. "How are you doing, Mulder?" "Nothing permanently damaged," he responded as he strained to lift one large beam that had deposited itself across Scully's midsection. Luckily, the full weight of the beam had not come to rest on her, otherwise, she would have surely been crushed; however, as Mulder lifted it slightly, she realized that it had managed to put a nice dent in her left side...right where her ribs were. And now that Mulder had lifted some of that pressure off of her... Scully winced and drew in a sharp breath. "What?" Mulder exclaimed with concern. Scully closed her eyes in disgust. "I take back my earlier diagnosis. I'd say I've got a broken rib or two." Mulder scanned the ground until he saw a suitably-sized rock. He pushed the rock under the beam and gently lowered the end of the beam onto it, thereby relieving the pressure off of Scully and freeing his hands. "I'd better go find Ranger Rick and get some help...you gonna be okay here for a sec?" Scully nodded mutely as she chewed on her bottom lip. The pain wasn't quite as intense now, as long as she didn't take any deep breaths. She did not cherish the idea of being alone in this darkness, but she knew that Mulder had to go get some help. Mulder leaned over her and gently brushed the hair back from her face. "I'll be right back...promise." ****************** Mulder stumbled through the debris toward the mouth of the tunnel as quickly as he could, slowing every once in a while to light another stick of wood. While he didn't think that Scully was in any life-threatening danger from her injuries, he certainly did not trust the stability of the tunnel. He wondered if that was why none of the others had come in to find them yet. The light before him began to grow as he got closer to the entrance. It looked as though they had been extremely lucky and the tunnel did not have any complete obstructions. As he reached the entrance, he began to shout for Walters. He had expected to find the others standing close by...ready to help. He was not prepared for what he did find. There was no one outside. The air was completely silent and still. There were no cars. There was no trailer. There was no evidence that anyone had been here for many years. "Walters!" he screamed as loudly as his dust-filled lungs would allow. He turned in circles, his eyes squinting in the sunlight, looking for something...anything. He ran a short ways down the dirt road. Maybe the others just pulled back for safety. The road was empty. The only sound he could hear was the creaking sound of the crickets as they warmed up for their evening concert in the rays of the late afternoon's setting sun. ************************** Scully laid in the darkness, cursing her usual bad luck. She gently ran her fingers over her ribs. They were definitely bruised...and, although she wouldn't be able to be certain until she was x-rayed, judging from the pain, it felt as though two ribs might be fractured. She sighed, just wanting to get the whole hospital thing over with quickly. Now, if Mulder and Ranger Rick would just get back here and get her out of this... She strained to hear any signs of their approach. After about twenty minutes, it was hard to judge since she couldn't read her watch, she thought she could hear footsteps. "Mulder?" After a few seconds, he responded. "It's me, Scully...be there in a minute." His voice sounded strange to her. And she also thought it strange that it sounded as though Mulder was alone. She was relieved to see some light approaching. A few moments later, she could see Mulder's face as he came toward her, carrying some kind of old lantern. "Look what Santa left..." Mulder tried to joke, pointing at the lantern. "It must have been left here by a miner or something..." Scully lifted her head and tried to look down the tunnel. "Where are the others?" Mulder set the lantern down and began to work on the debris once again. He did not look at Scully's face. "I don't know where they are, Scully. They weren't out there..." "What? Did they go back to town to call for help?" Scully was puzzled. She knew that Walters had a two-way radio as well as a cellular phone. He could have simply called in for help. "I don't know. The cars, the trailer...everything is just...gone." "But how could the trailer be..." Scully began. Mulder cut her off. "I DON'T KNOW!" he shouted. Scully was silent, almost stunned by her partner's outburst. Mulder lowered his head, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Scully. I got outside and no one was there. It looked as though no one had been in the area for years. There are no tire tracks, no foot prints, no equipment...nothing. I have no idea what is going on..." his voice trailed off. Scully's analytical mind raced as she struggled to come up with something to say...a theory or something. "What time is it, Mulder?" He looked at his watch and frowned. He tapped it several times. "It stopped at 2:20. What about yours?" Scully pulled her arm out from underneath the beam and held it up toward the light from the lantern. "Mine stopped about the same time...about the time of the earthquake..." "So, next time we both get a Timex," Mulder interjected. "When I was outside, the sun was already on its way down...I would guess from its position that it's around five o'clock." "So, it will be dark soon. And Walters and the others would have had plenty of time to get help by now. I guess that means that we are gonna have to get me out of here..." Scully reached for his hand and gave it a slight squeeze. Mulder nodded and stood. "Okay, Leon. Let's get out of here." ********************** It took Mulder a good ten minutes to maneuver the beam far enough out of the way to allow enough room for him to get in a position where he could slide Scully out from underneath it. The work was strenuous and dangerous. On two occasions, he had to stop and cover Scully with his own body as more of the cave's ceiling showered down upon them. Finally, he was able to pull her free. He laid down beside her on the ground for a moment to catch his breath. "Thanks, Mulder." "Don't mention it...I always enjoyed archaeology...digging around for old relics." Mulder sat up, shook some of the dirt from his hair, and then stood. "You think you can walk out of here?" "Just help me up and point the way, Mulder," she responded. By the time they reached the outside world, the night was beginning to settle in. Only a few frail fingers of light still grasped the horizon. It would have been a beautiful scene, if it had not reminded them of how deserted they were. Mulder scanned the road once again. There will still no signs of any people or vehicles. So much for the theory that the others had gone for help. They walked down the road toward Caveton in silence, Scully leaning slightly on Mulder's left arm for extra support. CHAPTER THREE It had taken them over three hours to walk the four miles to the booming streets of Caveton. They had been slowed by the darkness and by Scully's sore ribs. More than once they had each commented that they wished they had not left their cellular phones in their now "abducted" rental car. As they stepped onto Elm Street, Mulder came to a halt. He squinted as he tried to scan the blackened buildings. Scully could guess what he saw...nothing. There were no signs of life. At this point, Scully was just happy to see some sort of shelter...whether it was occupied or not. She could only hope that they could find something to eat or drink. The two agents wearily trudged down the street. They headed toward the building they had been in earlier...#2 Elm. As they approached the door, Mulder hesitated. They had their first sign of life. Two bicycles were parked outside. Mulder took a closer look at the building. While the other buildings in town were covered in dust and dirt, their doors hanging on hinges and unused for years, this door was different. He stepped up and looked through the window. The room inside was well kept and recently cleaned. There was even a plate with what appeared to be the remnants of pork and beans sitting on one table. He tried the doorknob and it turned easily in his hand. He pulled out his gun and motioned for Scully to wait outside...her injury would slow her down. He quietly pushed the door open and crept inside. He walked over to the table and examined the plate. The food was cold...it had been sitting out for several days at least, judging from the color of the dried ketchupy mess. He scanned the room and then moved to the storage room in back. He opened it and found that it too was clean, but empty. As he turned around, he was startled by movement behind him. He was about to bring his gun to bear on the target when it spoke. "It's just me, Mulder. You find anything?" Mulder rolled his eyes. He should have know better than to expect Scully to wait outside. He shook his head and pointed down the hallway toward a staircase. Scully nodded and they headed toward it, carefully checking around each corner and doorway as they proceeded. When they reached the foot of the stairs, Scully acquiesced to Mulder's motion that he go first. The half moon outside provided little illumination for their search. She strained to see as Mulder disappeared at the top of the stairs. A moment later, his hand appeared, motioning her to follow. She gingerly walked on the edge of each stair, trying to avoid the creaky boards that were just waiting to announce the agents' presence. She was not very successful. They separated once again to search the rooms around them. The lighting improved as Scully headed toward the window at the end of the hallway. A door to its left was ajar. A strange, but all too familiar and foreboding odor wafted out toward her. She slowly pushed the door open, ready to fire her weapon at anything that might be waiting for her. The windows in the room gave her a good view of what lay inside. The sight that met her caused her to freeze momentarily in the doorway. She jumped slightly when Mulder came up behind her. "The other rooms are clear. You find anything?" Mulder asked. Scully turned to him and nodded, moving to the side to allow him a view. Carolyn Renfoir lay in a pool of her own blood, just inside the door, the gunshot to her head obvious even in the dim light. Dr. Franklin Kehoe, the brilliant if eccentric scientist, was reposed in a chair, his head tilted back, his death mask still in place, despite the self-inflicted gun shot wound through the roof of his mouth. The Smith and Wesson .38 blue steel revolver was still tightly clutched in his hand. Scully went to Renfoir and then to Kehoe, confirming the very obvious, as Mulder walked over to the desk and lit the oil lamp that sat by the window. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket to try and cover his nose and mouth. The stench inside the room was choking. "Well, I guess we found out where our missing scientists are..." Mulder stated. Scully looked up from her examination of Kehoe's body. "Mulder, I can't be sure right now, but it appears as though they've been dead for over a week...maybe two." "But they only disappeared six days ago. How is that possible?" "I have no idea...what's going on here, Mulder?" ************************* Two hours later, Mulder and Scully sat in the diner-like building adjacent to #2 Elm. They had searched the other buildings in town and found that the diner was the only other one with signs of use. Apparently, Kehoe and Renfoir had cleaned it up and used it as a kitchen. The scientists had also supplied it with several oil lamps which, once Mulder lit them, illuminated the rooms surprisingly well. The hand pump by the sink still worked and, after they had both had some water to drink and refreshed themselves, the agents set about looking for some food. Mulder had managed to fire up the wood stove in the corner of the kitchen while Scully rummaged through cabinets, eventually finding several cans of various vegetables and mystery meat concoctions. They settled on sardines and green beans. Even Mulder could not bear the thought of opening one of the ten cans of Spam. "So," Mulder began as he pushed away his now empty plate. "What's our next step?" "Good question. Since none of the phones in town seem to work, there are no cars anywhere...and no sign of anyone living...I guess we're stuck here with a couple of dead scientists." "Can we at least do some sort of autopsy...anything to figure out what happened...why they killed themselves?" "Well, I don't have anywhere or anything to conduct a proper autopsy on the bodies...and I need to do autopsies. But, we can't leave them up there indefinitely. If we don't get help here by morning, we'll have to bury them and then exhume them later." "Since we don't have a camera, we'll have to do a thorough crime scene sketch beforehand." Scully nodded. "Well, they're not going anywhere tonight. We should try and get some sleep and start in the morning when the lighting will be better." She sat back in her chair and grabbed at her side as a new pain shot through her ribs. Mulder stood and moved to her side. "But first, I'm going to find a first aid kit and see to those ribs of yours." Scully leaned her head on the table, her left arm wrapped protectively around her waist, as she listened to Mulder throw pots and pans about as he searched for bandages. A few minutes later, as she was about to fall asleep, she heard his cry of triumph. "I found it!" he called as he came back into the room. He quieted down when he saw the sleepy look in his partner's eyes. "Sorry to wake you up, Scully...but, we've gotta do this." Scully nodded and stood up slowly. Mulder grabbed her elbow and helped her sit up on the table. As she rolled up the bottom of her sweatshirt, Mulder busied himself with trying to find the end of the roll of surgical tape. "Now is not the time for modesty, Mulder." Unfortunately, Scully found herself blushing slightly at her own remark. He looked up and winced when he saw the livid bruise on her side, forgetting any self-conscious feelings he might have had. He pulled the lamp closer as he gently touched the area with his fingertips. Scully craned her neck and chanced a look at the injury. She sighed. Why did this stuff always happen to them? "You gotta tell me how to do this, Scully. I can't even wrap a Christmas present without getting tape all over me." She took his hand and showed him where to start. As he leaned over her shoulder, being careful not to wrap the tape too tightly, he saw the familiar lines of worry beginning to make their way across her face. He spoke softly in her ear. "It's gonna be okay. We will figure a way out of this." *********************** The next morning, with no signs of help from the outside world, Mulder and Scully had set about their work of documenting the death scene. They found some old clothes in the downstairs storage room and had changed into them, knowing they could burn them once they were done as scenes like this tended to permeate skin and clothing. It was difficult to work in the stuffy malodorous room, even after they had opened up the windows. Once they had completed their rough sketch, they felt comfortable moving the bodies. Mulder had located some canvas tarps in a shed down the street and they appeared to be strong enough for the job. They carefully wrapped the bodies and then carried them out behind the building. It was not a pleasant job. Mulder had wished that Scully did not have to assist in the effort, but they had little choice. All he could do was try to bear most of the weight. They buried the bodies and covered the ground with several rocks to mark the area. When they were done, Scully sat down on the back stoop to catch her breath. Mulder sat down behind her and began to massage her neck. "Are you doing okay?" "I'm fine, Mulder....really. Just tired and a little sore. I just need to get some of my wind back." He leaned forward and looked into her eyes for confirmation. "Okay. I'm going to go get cleaned up then while you rest up. Holler if you need anything." "Thanks, Mulder." Mulder stood and walked back inside. He walked through the building and headed for the diner and its water pump. Scully leaned back on the steps, trying to find a comfortable position. She fingered the tape beneath her shirt. She would definitely have to get Mulder to re-tape the site once she was cleaned up. Her eyes wandered over to the pile of items they had removed from the upstairs room earlier. They had brought them down so that they could examine them as they aired out. One item quickly drew her attention. It appeared to be some kind of journal. She picked it up and examined the cover. Kehoe had written his name on the outside, along with the date: July 22, 1996. Scully opened the journal and began to thumb through the pages. She stopped when she found the last written page. She froze and her stomach dropped as she saw the date and the last entry. "June 10, 1998. We are alone." *************************** CHAPTER FOUR Mulder walked down the hallway, rubbing an old towel through his wet, spiky hair. He had only been inside for about ten minutes, but he already felt an overwhelming need to check on his partner. She had looked so tired when he left her on the back stoop. Washing up and changing had definitely helped his mood, he hoped it would do the same for Scully. As he approached the back, he paused to watch her through the open door. He wasn't prepared for what he saw. Scully was deathly pale, her head tilted back toward the sky; but, her eyes were closed and she was clutching a thick notebook in her hands. Mulder moved forward cautiously. As he reached the the doorway, he spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. "Scully?" She did not respond. "Scully?" His voice was firmer the second time. ********* Scully had heard his approach. She waited, not wanting to be the first one to speak...for she had no idea what she was going to say to him. She was still trying to sort out what she had found in the journal. After a few moments, she knew he was coming toward her. Then he spoke her name. She winced inwardly at the concern she heard in his voice. She did not want to worry him, but at the same time, she had to admit that she was frightened...an admission that she was ashamed of. When Mulder repeated her name, she turned her head toward him and opened her eyes. She was touched by the tenderness in his eyes. For one moment, she wanted to blurt out what the journal held and then have Mulder tell her that she was hallucinating everything...that she was nuts. But, she knew he would not do that. She knew that she was not crazy. She suspected that Kehoe had not been crazy. She had read enough of his entries to realize that. And, if the entries were real... She held the journal out to Mulder. "Have you looked at this yet?" Mulder shook his head as he took the book from her hands. "No. What is it, Scully? What's wrong?" "This is Kehoe's journal. He started it on July 22...the day after he disappeared. You need to read it..." she told him as he began to leaf through the handwritten pages. "Mulder, look at the last entry." He looked at her questioningly before he returned to the pages. Her face did not hold an answer. He flipped through the book until he found the last entry. As he read it, he found the answer to his question. His eyes widened and he looked back up at his partner. She met his gaze. He quietly repeated the last sentence aloud. "We are alone...not exactly my theory," he tried to lighten the blow. "What the hell is going on here, Mulder?" Scully asked, hoping he would be able to explain all of it, even though she knew he would not. Mulder turned back to the beginning of the journal and began to read as he answered her. "I have no idea....have you read any more entries?" Scully rubbed her hands over her face, muffling her reply. "I managed to read through the first week of entries before you came back out." She shook her head in disbelief. "The first week...Mulder, they've only been gone six days! There are entries there for almost a year! Kehoe's last entry is dated 1998. This is impossible!" "I know, Scully,... but it would explain the lived-in condition of these two buildings. I did some more nosing around...and I'd say that Kehoe and Renfoir had to do some serious scrounging to come up with all of the supplies that we've been using." "Mulder, if that journal is accurate, they had plenty of time to scavenge. And it if is it accurate, then we're missing almost a year of our lives. Either that, or else something happened to them. For every day of our time since they disappeared, two months passed for them." "Are you saying that they...that we passed through some sort of time warp?" Mulder asked incredulously. "I have no idea what I am saying...none of this makes any sense. But, look at us, Mulder. If that much time had passed, our appearances should be different. We should have aged...our hair should have grown...my ribs would not still be so sore. And where is everyone? There should at least be some sign of all the people who were here yesterday...if it really was yesterday. The only thing that is obvious to me right now is that, whatever happened to Kehoe and Renfoir, they believed that they were alone and they gave up." Mulder looked at his shaken partner. He had to admit that he was not feeling very steady or sane himself. He placed his hand over her arm as a thought occurred to him. A thought that gave him some hope. "But, Scully...we have an advantage that Kehoe and Renfoir did not." Scully lifted her head to meet his eyes once again, her eyebrow enunciating her question for her voice. "Kehoe had no reference points. If there is a some time disparity, he had no way to know about it. We do...thanks to this journal. And that gives up a hope that they did not have. We will figure this out." ***************** An hour later, the agents stood inside the diner. After Scully had cleaned herself up, they had decided to grab a bite to eat before they continued to read from the journal. They had to keep up their strength or else they could miss something important. They had agreed that once they were done eating, they would take turns reading the entries out loud...sharing each insight and discovery and idea. They needed to throw every one of their wild theories out in the open...that was the only way they would hold onto their own sanity. Mulder had volunteered to be chef. He wanted to give Scully a break from dealing with her sore ribs. He puttered about in the kitchen as Scully cleaned and set one of the tables in the dining room. The normalcy of their actions helped to keep them grounded. "What's for lunch, Mulder?" Scully called as she placed the silverware on the table. "Let's see. We have Spam and beans, Spam Spam Spam and corn, or Spam Spam Spam and Spam." Scully had to smile. Mulder knew how much she loved Monty Python. "Do you have anything without Spam?" She groaned in reply. Mulder entered the dining room before she could finish. "Actually, I found some Dinty Moore Beef Stew...hope it works for you." He set the two steaming bowls down on the table. Scully had not realized how hungry she was until the aroma reached her nose. It smelled like a gourmet meal. They sat down and began to eat. A nagging thought of reality forced Scully to speak. "How much food do we have...we might need to start rationing ourselves..." The question had already occurred to Mulder as he had prepared their lunch. He told Scully the same thing he had told himself earlier. "Let's take things one step at a time, okay? Let's get through the journal. Kehoe might tell us how and where they found this stuff..." Scully nodded. ************************** "July 22, 1996. "Facere. A Latin word meaning 'to make.' Most people don't realize that two very important words in the English language came from this one ancient verb. Two words that have dominated science, literature, life itself. The words are 'fact' and 'fiction.' A protagonist and an antagonist that arose from one being. "We scientists have forgotten our own limitations...our humility. We have conveniently ignored our own history. In our search for absolute truths, we have hidden behind our 'objective' empirical data. We have forgotten that all of the bases for our data, the rules by which we have played...all of them were created by men. They were made. "I remember a day about a year ago. I was in Washington, D.C. for a conference about some discovery that someone thought was important at the time...I can't even remember what it was about now. Funny. Well, I flipped on the radio in my hotel room and was listening to some strange station...I think they'd call it 'alternative.' One of the station's ads came on. A voice echoed over and over, 'The laws of nature no longer apply.' "For some reason, as I sit here now, writing this, not even knowing if anyone else will ever read it, that phrase keeps pounding in my head." ********************** Scully's skin tingled with goosebumps as Mulder read aloud from the journal. She remembered her first meeting with the man who now sat beside her. He had said something very similar to her that day. He had said that he had found that in his work "...the laws of physics rarely apply." Even though she had been whole heartedly skeptical of his cynicism that day...she was becoming a believer. Her firmly rooted mantra of an orderly, explainable universe was slowly shriveling...there wasn't enough evidence...enough water to keep that belief alive and growing. The voices within her subsided and she listened once again to Mulder's reading. She had not realized how long she was day dreaming until he read the date of the next journal entry. ********************* "July 27, 1996 "Today Carolyn and I got back from our trip to the neighboring town of Chantal. Actually, 'neighboring' would be a deceptive word. It was at least a thirty mile hike. Thank goodness we found those bicycles in Chantal so that we could ride back. "We found what I expected. Nothing. At least, no one. All of the houses and shops were deserted. What was confusing though was their condition. While one house appeared to have been occupied recently...with food in the cupboards that was still edible...the house immediately next door would be decrepit, appearing to have been abandoned years before. The furniture inside would be dust-covered and rotting from exposure. The food in the pantries was indistinguishable; however, because there were perishable items lying around, apparently the homes were abandoned suddenly. The owners must have expected to return...or they were too scared to think about their houses when they left. "Of course, there is another explanation. One that unfortunately reminds me of numerous bad sci-fi B movies...the people could have just vanished suddenly, without warning. "I suggested even another theory to Carolyn and I'm not quite sure what she really thought of it. I have been considering how we got here. We were in the mine, studying the mineral content of the rocks. I had been chipping away at the rock face, when there was a long rumbling noise. A fissure opened up in the wall. It was beautiful, full of colors. And there was energy...our instruments started to go crazy. Carolyn ran to assist me as I tried to decipher the readings...but, before we could analyze anything, there was a sudden rush of heat and a blinding light. "The last thing I remember was running backward. Carolyn was yelling something. When we awoke, we were still in the mine...but all of our equipment was gone. We walked outside and found that the trailer...and everyone in it had vanished. "I have thought back to that moment of light and heat. I have never seen anything like that fissure. I was conducting my experiments in that mine because of the history of the area. There are numerous signs in the region of meteor impacts and other phenomena. Could something have been carried here? Something from space...or beyond...a cosmic string that alters or controls the definitions of time and space? "Something deposited that energy source deep inside the mine. I believe that the answers to my questions are there. I have no idea how I will uncover the truth. I have no instruments, no electricity...every electric machine we found between here and Chantal was fried..as if an electromagnetic pulse had occurred. "What I do know is that whatever happened, it is beyond the scope of anything the scientific community would ever consider to be real. "And now, I find it ironic, almost amusing in a rather morbid sense, that the moment I find evidence that decries the fundamental tenets of the scientific revolution...here I sit, with no way to show anyone... At this point, I'm not even sure that anyone else even exists. That would certainly make all of this moot, wouldn't it?" ***************** Mulder paused and looked up at Scully. "You know, Scully. I definitely feel a bond with this guy." "Gee, Mulder. How could you possibly understand how it feels to have incredible, if not impossible proof of the improbable right in front of you only to have it slip away before anyone else gets to see it?" Scully replied in her typical understated fashion. A fashion that Mulder had come to know well and love. He was glad to hear her use it again. Scully yawned and stretched her arms out, being careful not to pull on her side. "So, what do you think, Dr. Scully?" Mulder had a way of saying the word 'doctor' that she found to be goading. She knew he did it on purpose. Some of her best theories popped out when she was angry or disgusted. "Well, I agree that the answers are back at the cave. But, if Franklin Kehoe, a man with more degrees than you and I combined, could not find those answers in twelve months....I just don't see how you and I..." "But! We have his journal. We don't have to start from scratch here. And as I pointed out before, we know a few things that he didn't." Scully stared at Mulder. She had no idea why she was feeling so fatalistic. Of course, she was tired and sore...but that usually made her even more determined to beat the odds. Mulder was trying very hard to pull her along with his optimism...his grasping at the impossible. She sighed. She certainly should know by now that Mulder had a knack for accomplishing the impossible. He'd even brought himself, and her for that matter, back from the dead. Her eyes softened under his gaze. Mulder saw the change and his heart was lightened. She had made up her mind. She was heading back from that dangerous edge of defeat. "Give me the journal, Mulder. I think it's my turn to read." She held out her hand and he gladly gave the book to her. ************************** CHAPTER FIVE It had taken nearly a week for Mulder and Scully to finish poring over the journal of Dr. Kehoe. They had forced themselves to maintain a slow and steady pace for several reasons. First, they did not want to miss any clues that Kehoe may have provided them. Second, Scully needed some time to let her ribs heal. Until she was better, they could not risk venturing out of Caveton...and neither of them relished the thought of being alone while Mulder ran off on his own to explore. Besides, with no known medical facilities in their near future, they had to stick together for simple survival. They could not take unnecessary risks. Kehoe's journal did not provide them with much to go on. He had been fastidious in keeping a daily log, even when nothing much had gone on. There were two notable exceptions. They had located two gaps of three days each. Kehoe only explained the gaps by noting that he had gone "exploring" on his own. He offered no further explanations...no details of his explorations. The last two weeks of entries had been difficult to read for both agents. Kehoe had become increasingly depressed and Renfoir had stopped communicating with him. He made notes about her erratic behavior...going off on her own for days at a time with no word...her lack of sleep...talking to herself. He had suspicions about what she was planning, yet, he was still taken by surprise when she acted on those plans. After he found her body, he saw little recourse for his own life. The thought of being alone in the desolate town was more than he could bear. He, of course, had no way of knowing that two wayward FBI agents were about to stumble into his world less than two weeks later. ******************* 0530 hours Scully sat in her dark bedroom. It was pointless for her to try and sleep. Although she and Mulder had not discussed the final journal entries, she knew he was as affected by them as she had been. It was hard not to feel trapped. She was looking forward to getting on one of the bikes outside and getting out of this town. She needed to convince herself that there were other things on the horizon. They had agreed to wait two more days before striking out. Her ribs were already feeling better, but it was best not to push it too hard. Still, she was beginning to regret their decision. She needed to be doing something...anything to find a way out of this place. She peered out the window. The sun would be rising soon. She could already see the streaks on the horizon, announcing the approaching day. Funny how the sunrise could touch such a familiar chord in her in this strange place. She shuddered slightly as a chill ran through her. She turned from the window and moved around the room quietly, gathering her clothing. She pulled on her jeans and slipped on a t-shirt and a flannel shirt. Mulder's room was just next to hers and he had left his door ajar...probably out of force of habit from their many travels together. She did not want to risk waking him now. She picked up her hiking boots and cautiously tiptoed into the hallway in her stockinged feet. The floorboards and stairs were cooperating this morning as she crept downstairs...they did not announce her presence. She moved next door to the kitchen and hastily wrote a note to Mulder. She grabbed a backpack from the table and gathered a few items she might need for the day. Then, she headed outside. She took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. She had no idea where she was headed, so she simply began to put one foot in front of the other. ***************** An hour later, Scully found herself standing outside of the mine. She had no idea how she had gotten there...she really had not been paying attention. Something had just drawn her there. There had to be something inside that could answer her questions. Her scientific mind demanded answers...logical, calm, reasoned answers. Of course, she admitted to herself, at this point, she would even welcome a few other-worldly theories. She walked inside and picked up one of the lanterns they had discovered earlier. After digging through one of the pockets of her backpack, she found some matches and lit the lantern. As she continued into the dark tunnel, the wind whipped around her. The sound was odd and she cocked her head to listen. It almost sounded like whispering voices. One part of her wished that Mulder was with her. The other part chastised her sudden lack of courage and pushed her on. She squinted her eyes as she adjusted to the light of the lantern. When Scully first saw it, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Then, little by little, she realized that it was not her imagination. There was a faint light at the far end of the tunnel. Before she could go any further, however, there was a loud groaning noise above her. She looked up just in time to see the rock that crashed down upon her head. ********************** 1200 hours Mulder sat in the dining room, nursing the food on the plate before him. Spam yet again. He couldn't wait to get out of Caveton and find some better food. He was certain that Scully would agree. He frowned. He found her note around 0630 hours. "Mulder, I needed to get some fresh air and exercise. I took the backpack and some food. I'll be back before dinner. Promise. Scully." He had known that Scully was disturbed by Kehoe's last entries, but apparently he had underestimated just how much. Of course, if she felt like he did... He quickly shut down that train of thought. He knew that Scully just needed some space. She would come back later, clear and focused as usual. One of his most treasured aspects of their partnership was that they could both sense when the other needed some breathing room. And they usually delivered it...knowing that the other would come back when they needed to talk...and the other would be there waiting to listen. Mulder had to smile a little. He was actually pretty impressed that Scully managed to sneak out without waking him. He was such a light sleeper...but, then again, she knew that about him and would take the proper precautions. He pushed away his plate and grabbed the journal from the table behind him. He decided that now would be a good time to start going over some of the entries again. ********************* 2100 hours At first, Mulder had been mildly concerned about Scully's well-being...her emotional state. By mid-afternoon, he had grown more than a little concerned about her physical safety. He had really expected her to return much earlier than her note had mentioned. It wasn't like her to go off and brood for long periods of time. She wasn't like him in that regard. Now, he was genuinely worried. He had practically worn out the floor, pacing back and forth for almost two hours. Finally, he gave in, not caring whether or not Scully would be angry with him for searching for her...for doubting her ability to look out for herself. He grabbed his jacket and a lantern and headed out the door. Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea which way she had headed. Could she have headed for the next town? He doubted that she had wanted to traverse the thirty miles to Chantal. He decided to start around the small town, searching in and around the buildings...calling her name...loudly. Four hours later, he was hoarse from shouting and his lantern had run out of kerosene. He was forced to retreat back to the house. He went to the supply room and began to curse. He had left the extra kerosene back at the mine two days ago. He had no way to continue searching now. He would have to wait until the sun came up. He moved back to the dining room and sat in the dim candlelight, his head in his hands in frustration. ************************ 0545 hours Mulder had impatiently waited until he could see across the street. Then he once again grabbed his jacket and headed out. This time, he opted to head towards the mine. At the very least, he would retrieve the kerosene for the lamps. With any luck, he would find Scully there. Maybe she had gone up there to search and had simply lost track of the time and had chosen to stay there for the night instead of risking the dark walk back. He knew it was wishful thinking...but it was all he had at the moment. He more or less ran all the way to the mine. The uphill climb left him out of breath as he reached his destination. He grabbed one of the lanterns at the entrance and noticed that another one was missing. Scully had to be inside. Mulder called out for her. There was no answer. He had gone approximately one hundred yards down the tunnel, when his foot hit something. He looked down. It was Scully's backpack. There was no sign of its owner. His cries became more frantic. He moved quickly down the tunnel, barely managing to not outrun the illumination provided by his own lantern. A few minutes later, he reached the wall at the end of the mine. Scully was nowhere to be found. ********************************* CHAPTER SIX ************** "Up there, up there in the vastness of space, in the void that is sky, up there is an enemy known as isolation. It sits there in the stars waiting, waiting with the patience of eons, forever waiting..." -- Rod Serling, "Where Is Everybody?" ************** Two days later 1830 hours Mulder sat in front of the house. He had been trying to attach a lantern to the handlebars of his bicycle and had paused for a moment to collect his thoughts as well as his breath. He had spent the past two days rushing from one place to another, desperately trying to find his partner. Sleep had long been abandoned, even though for the past few hours he had often found himself in a dozing stupor as he walked and ran. The last night had been the darkest he had ever known or felt. None of the many stars above could lift the suffocating veil that had descended upon him. He had been fighting a case of low grade panic all day. It was one thing to decide to "get away from it all." But, this was forced isolation...the kind that could drive you insane...and Mulder was quickly realizing that he had already been standing on its threshold. He had to find Scully. If nothing else, he longed to hear her say, "Mulder, you're nuts." The echoes that played through his mind did not help him...the song "Sounds of Silence"....that creepy Twilight Zone episode with Earl Holliman...wasn't it the pilot episode? Mulder shook his head, as if he were an Etch-O-Sketch and the motion would erase the myriad of bizarre thoughts that poured through his consciousness; but the sieve in his mind managed to fiercely grip these images. The thought that Scully was laying dead somewhere...or that she had possibly gone back to the "real" world without him....they left him with a coldness inside that had effectively frozen him. He stared at the work in progress before him. He had to admit that he was seriously mechanically impaired...his attempts to metamorphosize his bicycle into a night riding machine were definitely lacking. Where was Frohike when you needed him? He leaned forward and hung his head down over his knees. Perhaps the answer lay in the dirt beneath his feet....perhaps Scully was merely playing a really sick joke on him, paybacks for all of the times he had ditched her...perhaps this was all just a dream...or perhaps he was just completely, totally and utterly losing it. He threw himself on his back, his arms outstretched and yelled. "Scully!" The response was faint at first...faint enough for him to be securely convinced that it had all been his very warped imagination. It was bad enough when circumstances beyond your control drove you crazy, but to be betrayed by his own mind....that was too cruel. "Mulder?" The voice was stronger now...could auditory hallucinations be directionally traced? It was this final thought that made Mulder sit up and take a look around. He squinted as he looked down the street into the setting sun. A small figure gradually came into focus as it limped down the street. Mulder was on his unsteady feet a moment later, running toward her...hoping she wasn't just a mirage. Mulder didn't trust his eyes. The usually "prone to believe everything" agent was now the "doubting Mulder." He grabbed Scully's arms and pulled her into his embrace. He closed his eyes in relief...he could touch her...she was real. He didn't move until he heard Scully mutter something. He pulled back and stared at her. "Wha...what did you say?" He was still out of breath. "I said, 'I can't breathe, Mulder'," she replied. Mulder finally took the time to examine his diminutive partner. She was covered in dust and dirt, her hair was disheveled and she had a lovely gash on her forehead that was bleeding quite nicely. It was hard for him not to exclaim that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Instead, he swallowed his thoughts and began to examine her injuries. Anything to avoid having to stare back into her puzzled eyes. "Where have you been, Scully?" He immediately regretted the tone his voice had carried. He sounded like a parent questioning a wayward child. Actually, when he thought about it again, he sounded like Scully when she lectured him after one of his more hare-brained schemes. She winced slightly and tried to pull back as Mulder moved some of her hair away from the laceration. "Hold still for a sec...." "I'm fine, Mulder." Mulder let go of her. "Come on, Scully. Let's go inside and get you cleaned up...then you can tell me where you've been for the past three days." Scully froze as Mulder headed toward the house. He turned back when he realized that she had stopped. "Scully? What's wrong?" "Did you say, 'three days'?" Her voice was almost a whisper. He nodded silently, not liking the expression of confusion on her face. Maybe her head injury was serious. He went to her side and gently took her arm. "We can talk about this inside...what matters now is that you're safe...come on and let me take care of that cut..." She stared at him in disbelief and mutely allowed him to lead her into the diner. ********************* Scully slumped down in a chair beside one of the tables as Mulder moved about, drawing water, collecting items to press into first aid service. She tilted her aching head back against the wall. She was too tired and filthy to consider all the questions that were swimming around inside of her. Mulder had apparently finished his scavenging and was now standing over her, staring at her once again. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. "Scully, you are definitely a sight for sore eyes." One corner of his mouth turned up slightly in an attempt at a smile. Scully gingerly arched her eyebrow as she noticed his own rough appearance for the first time. He obviously had not shaved in quite a while...there were puffy bags of insomnia under his eyes, and his hair had taken on a life of its own. "And you, Mulder, are definitely a sore sight for eyes..." she replied. Inside, however, she thought it was rather annoyingly sweet that he had obviously been so upset about her whereabouts that he had forgotten about such things as personal hygiene. Her comment broke the moment. Mulder sat down beside her and pulled her forward so that he could tend to the still bleeding wound on her head. He dabbed at it with a tenderness that Scully found surprising. Soon, however, she was content to just enjoy the coolness of the damp cloth against her dirt covered skin. "So...you wanna let me in on where you were, Scully?" She sighed. "I just decided to go for a walk...and ended up at the mine. I went in and heard a noise...or something...and there was a light..." She shook her head. "I can't really remember...the next thing I knew, I woke up on the floor of the mine, with a splitting headache." Mulder stopped his first aid for a moment. "You were in the mine? That's impossible! I went up there...I searched that mine four times! There is no way that you were there." "Mulder, I just told you...that's where I went...that's where I woke up...I guess there was a cave in or something...something..a rock...hit me on the head." "Scully, I found your backpack up there. But, you were not there." Scully shrugged her shoulders. She was too tired to discuss this at the moment. She also had to admit to herself that it was more than a little disturbing and, for this reason, she really did not want to delve into it at the moment. What had happened to her? Or was Mulder imagining things? Mulder could sense that she wanted to drop the topic. It could wait a little while. He continued to fix his attention on her injuries. "How are your ribs doing?" Scully ran her fingers across her midsection carefully. They seemed to have weathered the latest adventure without any further injury. "They're okay...we probably need to re-tape them though." Mulder scrunched his nose slightly as he stared at the now clean area around her head wound. "Scully, I may not be a doctor, but I'd say you probably need stitches..." "Are you volunteering, Mulder?" She raised her head to look him in the eye...the dare was unmistakable. "Um...or, we could try using some tape or something..." He cleared his throat. There was no way he was going to perform his first "operation" on his partner. The sound of boiling water filled the air, giving Mulder a reason to graciously bow out of the conversation. He stood after moving Scully's hand up to hold the cloth against the wound. "I put the water on...it should be enough to fill that big washtub...thought you might want a real bath tonight." She nodded gratefully until he added a final thought. "Just remember this, Scully. I'll always draw your bath..." She moaned and once again leaned back against the wall. *********************** Scully sat in the old washtub, enjoying the warmth of the cleansing water and the flickering light of the lanterns around the room. Mulder had been a complete gentleman and had set up the tub in a back room to give her a more complete sense of privacy. She had gone next door to round up some more clothes and when she returned to the diner, she found that Mulder had fixed up the small room for her. He had almost looked shy as she walked into the room and thanked him. She closed the door behind her and then allowed herself to smile. For all of his annoying habits and incessant teasing, Mulder really was a nice guy. Now, she sat and soaked, happy to feel all of the grime floating away. It was definitely helping the ache in her muscles as well. Scully had no idea how long she had been in the tub, but, suddenly there was a sharp knock at the door. "Scully? Are you okay in there?" She sat upright...her hair was wet, the water had turned almost tepid. She had obviously fallen asleep. "I'm fine, Mulder." "What'd you do? Fall asleep?" "No...I was just too comfortable to move..." she lied. "Well, you don't want to become a prune...besides, I've got some dinner ready as soon as you want it." "Okay....thanks." ********************** Mulder walked back over to the stove to stir the soup he had warmed up. His stomach was just getting settled once again. He had been pounding on the door for quite a while, and was getting ready to just barge in, before Scully finally answered him. It was difficult not to feel a little paranoid. Truth be told, he did not want to let her out of his sight. He did not want to feel that alone again. And, he was still worried about the blow she had taken to her head. He turned as he heard the door open behind him. It was hard not to laugh. Scully stood there in a pair of beat up, oversized jeans and a flannel shirt that came down almost to her knees. Her hair was wet, completing the overall effect. She looked like a little kid. But, at least she was a clean kid now. "Soup's on," Mulder announced and motioned for her to sit down at the table he had set for her. She had quickly finished her dinner. Going for three days without food had certainly taken its toll on her. She hadn't noticed the weight loss until she had tried to tighten the belt around her very loose jeans. She had eaten like....well, like Mulder in a greasy spoon diner. For his part, Mulder had enjoyed watching her chow down. His own appetite was just returning and he had finally had a helping of soup too. Finally, Scully pushed the bowl away. Her eyes were beginning to droop...she was ready to turn in. But, her feet were not up to the task of carrying her to bed at the moment. Mulder watched as she tried to fight off the urge to put her head down on the table. He knew that the sooner he took care of bandaging her up, the better. He grabbed the kit he had amassed and moved beside her. Scully almost waved him off in her drowsiness. "Now, Scully. We have to do this. As soon as we're done, we'll get you to bed...okay?" His parental tone had returned. For once, she didn't argue with him. He managed to tape up the ugly cut on her forehead...hoping that she wouldn't have too noticeable a scar when it healed. Then, he started to examine her ribs, but exhaustion had won the day and Scully leaned into his arms, sound asleep. He decided that the ribs could wait until morning. He sat still for a few moments, trying to decide what he should do. He looked at his hands, wondering where he was supposed to put them. Scully would probably die of embarrassment if she was coherent enough to get a glimpse of this Kodak Moment. Finally, he knew he had to do something...his arm was starting to fall asleep. He gathered her up in his arms and slowly stood, lifting her up. Then, he moved quietly across the room. Minutes, and many creaky stairs later, he placed her on her bed and carefully pulled a blanket over her. She hadn't stirred once during the entire journey. He leaned over her and brushed her forehead. When he was satisfied that his attempts at first aid were still intact, he retreated from the room. Mulder returned to the diner and cleaned up the mess from dinner. Then, he turned off all of the lights and moved back into the house, heading for his own bedroom. He sat down on his bed, but couldn't bring himself to actually lie down. He had too many questions. Where had Scully been? What had happened to her? Could it happen again? Would she return next time? What if she hadn't come back? Finally, he took a deep breath, grabbed a blanket and pillow and headed toward Scully's room. He peeked inside and was happy to see that she was still sleeping peacefully. He tiptoed around to the side of the bed, put the pillow on the floor and laid down beside it. He knew that this was the only place where he would be able to sleep for quite a while. ***************************** CHAPTER SEVEN That first morning after Scully's return, she had been the first to awaken. Of course, her return to the waking world had been more than encouraged by the strange snoring coming from the figure that lay on the floor beside her bed. She stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, enjoying and pondering the bizarre noises coming from Mulder...wondering if aliens snored...did they even sleep? Her eyes widened as she realized how absurd her thoughts were becoming. The situation they had gotten themselves into here was definitely not conducive to sound mental health...but, then again, they were the poster children for mind shattering phenomena. She turned her aching head and stared down at his sleeping form. She had figured that he would end up in her room. In fact, he would probably find an excuse to be there for quite a few nights to come. She sighed. She certainly was glad that he was taking up residence, but she doubted she would be able to find any of those wonderful noise reducing "Breathe Easy" strips in Caveton. She decided that it was just one of the hazards of her job...and one should could probably live with...maybe even enjoy. Scully rolled to the far side of the bed and slowly sat up. She stood carefully, hoping that there would not be any residual effects from the knock she took on the head. As she headed toward the door, each step grew a little more sure...a little stronger. As she descended the stairs, she gripped the railing tightly. No sense in falling down the stairs and making things worse...then Mulder would probably lock her in a padded room to prevent further injury. She went next door and stood over the sink. After a few pulls on the water pump handle, she had drawn enough water to splash across her face. It had helped to revive her from the mist of sleep that still hung in her eyes. As she leaned against the sink basin, her doctor mode kicked in. It was time to assess the damage...and this she wanted to do without Mulder around. Carrying one of the lanterns, Scully grabbed the first aid kit and moved to the back washroom and stood over it's now useless sink. She glanced longingly at the shower stall, wishing that they could get some running water into the run down building. She turned back to the mirror and moaned in disgust. Her face was pale and puffy. It took a moment for her to realize that the deep mark down the side of her face was merely pillow "assault." She rubbed at it for a few seconds, trying to erase it, before giving up. She moved her attention to the gash on her forehead. Mulder had done a pretty fair job of bandaging it up. It had only bled a little during the night. A nice lump was forming around its edges and the bump was taking on a cornucopia of different shades. She grabbed some disinfectant from the kit and began to dab around the wound, trying not to cry out as the liquid began it's stinging work. She paused as something occurred to her. If she had been in the mine for three days as Mulder believed, how in the world could her forehead still be bleeding freely when she woke up? It had been a fresh injury. Her memory told her that the wound happened just after she entered the mine. How could three days have passed? And yet, Mulder had obviously been awake for a quite a while when she returned. He had several days growth of beard to show for it. Had he really searched the mine four times while she was missing? Something was going on here...either that, or she...or Mulder...were going insane. She finished working on her latest scar-to-be and turned her attention to her ribs. The surrounding muscles were still a bit stiff, however, they seemed to be healing very quickly. Last night she had not taken the time to pay any attention to the site. She had been too tired and much too grateful for the bath. Besides, she hadn't crossed the path of a mirror. She unbuttoned her oversized flannel shirt and slid it from her shoulders. She was not prepared for what she found. ********************* Mulder slowly roused from his slumber. He had gotten up several times during the night to check on Scully. He wasn't sure whether or not she had a concussion, but he knew he should keep a close eye on her. Each time he had gotten up and sat down beside her, listening to her deep, peaceful breathing. He would stay like that, frozen, until she moved, convincing him that she was still okay. Then, he would straighten out the blankets that she had so deftly twisted and kicked and pull them up around her once again. He laid on his back and stretched his arms above his head, squinching his eyes several times. The sun had started to rise and its rays peeked into the old room, lighting up the bed beside him. Mulder stopped. It was too quiet. Scully wasn't breathing! He jumped up in alarm and stared at the empty bed. His limbs were suddenly weak as the adrenalin crashed from them and sat down heavily on the bed. He had to stay there for a few moments and collect and package his thoughts into something coherent. He shook his head. When had his partner insinuated herself so deeply into his life? No one had ever been able to elicit these feelings in him...they were even different than the ones he held for his missing sister, Samantha. His hand moved across the sheets. They were still warm. She must have just gotten up and gone downstairs. At least, that is what his rational mind tried to tell him. A lump formed in his throat. He hadn't wanted to entertain the other possibility, but it barged in nonetheless. What if she was missing again? Mulder launched himself from the bed and ran out the door. Mulder ran inside the diner when he saw the lights from the lanterns inside. "Scully?" It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the mix of dim sunrise and lantern light. A movement at one of the tables in the corner caught his eye. He stepped forward. "Scully?..Answer me!" He stood still, listening. "Over here, Mulder," a muffled voice answered quietly. Mulder picked up one of the glowing lanterns and moved to the back of the room. Scully sat at the table, her head hidden in her folded arms on the table top. As he stood over her, relieved at finding her, but at a loss for words, she looked up to him. Her eyes were filled with confusion. "What the hell is going on here, Mulder?" He sat down beside her and looked at her questioningly. "I was worried about you...I woke up and didn't know where you were..." he began. "Neither do I, Mulder. I have no idea where the hell I was for three days!" She shouted. Mulder cringed back. Something else had happened. Scully wasn't telling him everything. He placed his hand on her arm lightly. "Scully, what is it?" She stared at him blankly for several beats. Then she turned her back to him and dropped her shirt from her shoulders. "See for yourself, Mulder. Can you tell me what's going on?" Mulder pushed the lantern across the table, bringing the light closer to Scully's back and side. What he saw made him instinctively reach out with trembling fingers. He ran them lightly across her pale skin. A oblong pattern of red dots...pinpoint hemorrhages?...stretched from her ribs to her neck. This was certainly not your average every day bruise. Scully did not move as Mulder continued to run his fingers across the marks. She felt no discomfort...there was no pain. Then, his fingers hesitated and she knew he had found them. Mulder sucked in his breath as he looked at the two tiny scars...scars that were very familiar. He applied pressure with his fingertips, hoping he would not find what he expected. His hopes were dashed. Even his clumsy fingers could feel the unyielding hardness below the skin. He sat in shock, his fingers unmoving, until Scully moved forward and pulled up her shirt. She rolled up her right sleeve before turning back to him. She held out her forearm, still not looking him in the eye. Mulder's eyes moved up her arm until they reached the spot he knew she was showing him. The tiny bruise would have been easy to miss...if they hadn't known to look for it. Just inside the crease of her elbow. A minute pinprick sat in the middle of the bruise. Like someone...something...had taken blood. "It's happened again," she spoke softly, almost hopelessly. Finally, she allowed her eyes to meet his. The rage and frustration inside of Mulder suddenly had to be released. He jumped up and kicked over several chairs behind him. He spun around and pounded his fist on the wall. "Mulder!" Scully shouted above the din. He gave no signs of letting up. She stood and moved cautiously behind him, not wanting to walk into one of his blindly swinging fists. He was leaning over a table, trying to catch his breath. Scully wrapped her arms around him, trapping his arms next to his body. "Mulder." He finally heard her call his name. He relaxed and turned around in her arms, hugging her tightly to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Scully...I should have known..." Scully pushed herself back and stared at him. "How in the world could you have known?" He blinked. He knew she was right. There was no way he could have...it's not like there were many precedents for this situation. How often did he and Scully wake up to find themselves in a deserted world? Scully led him back to the table. She leaned over to upright his chair. Mulder grabbed her by the arm as she wavered. He pulled her up gently and sat her down. "Guess I shouldn't be doing that," Scully sighed as she rubbed her head. Mulder wanted to apologize for his outburst, but one look at his partner and he knew that she had already forgiven him. Actually, it looked as though she had performed her own cathartic release vicariously through his rage. "There's something else, Mulder..." He tried to read her expression. "What is it?" "My gun...I had mine when we got here...but, after I woke up in the mine...now I realize that it's gone. Not just the gun...but the holster too. I wasn't thinking straight last night...I should have known that it was gone. I always know when I'm not wearing it." "Scully. Don't beat yourself up about it. Even if you had realized it was gone last night, it wouldn't have changed anything. I'm just glad that you're back." "Don't you realize what this means, Mulder? There is someone else here!" Mulder leaned back in his chair. "I realize that...and obviously they aren't your friendly neighborhood Welcome Wagon." Scully ignored his feeble attempt at humor. "We've got to find out who they are...why they brought us here...wherever here is..." "And how do you propose to do that?" He rested his hand on her arm. She pulled it back and stood. "By going back to the mine...by going to the next town...by tracking them down." "Hold on, Scully. I agree we need to get out and search, but you can't go anywhere yet..." Scully opened her mouth to protest but Mulder stood up and grabbed her arm tightly. "No arguments. And not to worry. There's no way I'm gonna ditch you. We are sticking together for the duration...okay?" Scully softened. Mulder had hit the nail on the head. He knew her too well. She had been certain that he would insist on going off alone...leaving her by herself...she could be taken again...or worse, they could take him. "Okay, Mulder. As long as that's a promise." Mulder smiled and silently crossed his heart before holding up his best Boy Scout salute. Scully walked over to the table and retrieved the first aid kit. She walked back to Mulder and placed it in his hand. "But, before we do anything else...you're gonna get those things out of my back." Mulder paled. "But, Scully...we don't have any anesthetics..." "Mulder, right now I don't care. I want those things out of my body!" He looked at her doubtfully. Her voice grew quiet as she took his hand. "We have to get them out. We have no idea what they are...for all we know they could be tracking devices...anything. We have to do this...you have to do this." Mulder took a deep breath and nodded. ************************** CHAPTER EIGHT 0630 hours Mulder stood by the first floor window, staring past the sunrise that was finally making its appearance. After two days of rain, the sky had finally cleared during the night. It had been nearly impossible for him to sit still for those forty-eight hours...but, for Scully's sake, he had kept a tight rein on his tongue. In fact, it felt as though he might have bitten through it a few times. He had removed the metal chips from her back. It was not an experience that he ever wanted to repeat. Scully had managed to swallow any cries of pain that she might have wanted to express, but her body could not help but flinch away from him as he performed the extraction...and, for some reason, it really disturbed him that she would ever want to pull away from him. Fortunately, the objects had not been implanted deeply. He was able to remove them relatively quickly and then he bandaged up the still bleeding incisions on Scully's back. They had tried to examine the pieces of metal, but they were small...and they did not exactly have laboratory conditions in the diner. One thing was clear, they were very similar to the computer chip that had been removed from Scully's neck several months before. What they could not figure out was their placement in Scully's back. If the chip that had been removed earlier was positioned to retrieve and store memories, then why would these chips be placed in her back this time? They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening, studying the small devices...as if the answer would suddenly appear before their eyes. Finally, Mulder had carefully wrapped the items in a piece of paper, using a druggist's fold, and had then placed them in a small jar which he stored in his backpack. Mulder had wondered about Kehoe's journal entries. He had reminded Scully of the sudden gaps in the diary...could Kehoe and Renfoir have fallen victim to the same "thing" as Scully had? If they did, then maybe they had implants in their bodies also. And maybe autopsies on them would give them more evidence. Scully had merely shrugged at his suggestion. He suspected that the thought had already occurred to her. He recognized her attempts at denial, her desire to find a rational explanation where none existed. She quickly pointed out that she was not equipped to perform the procedure, but, to her credit, she had also stated that perhaps she could find some of the things she needed in Chantal. Finally, Scully had grown tired of speculation and went back to bed. Then, the rain had arrived. To be so useless. They had been here for sixteen days. He ached to get moving...and yet...he knew that it was absolutely the right decision to wait until Scully felt up to going with him. His lack of sleep was feeding his anger, and he had started to throw it in the wrong direction. Even though he was glad to have Scully's company in this strange town, he couldn't help but think that if she had stayed behind this time he would already be in Chantal...finding answers. He scowled at himself. He was being ridiculous. "Remember how you panicked when she was gone, pal?" he asked himself. Scully had never held him back...at least not because of any weakness of hers. She was the practical one...the one who pulled on his reins when needed...when he was rushing into something without thinking. He, in turn, would pull until she caught up with him and they could take a look around at their new surroundings...together. A thought finally occurred to him. The truth would never be worth it...it would be hollow...if he didn't have someone to share it with when he finally found it. And that someone was Scully. "Hey, it stopped raining." Mulder turned from the window to find Scully standing on the stairs behind him. He was quiet for a moment, hoping that she hadn't been there long enough to sense where his thoughts of frustration had taken him a few minutes earlier. "Yeah. Looks like it's gonna be a sunny day." "A good day for a bike ride...." Scully replied as she joined him at the window. He looked at her face, watching for any hesitation. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Scully?" "Absolutely. Besides, we're down to our last can of Spam, Mulder, and I've become rather fond of it." Mulder reached up to examine the bruise on her forehead but she pulled back. "I'm gonna go get dressed. Why don't you get the bikes ready and I'll grab our packs." She headed up the stairs before he could respond. Mulder headed out the door to get their transportation. Scully stood in the bedroom and watched out the window as Mulder gave the bicycles a quick once-over. She hadn't liked the expression on his face as she watched him downstairs. The chill that had traveled through her was still in her stomach. She shook her head. Whatever had been bothering him, he had appeared to have worked through it...at least she hoped he had. But, right now, she had a few demons of her own to exorcise...and she had a feeling that the answers awaited her in Chantal and the mine. **************************** 1200 hours They had ridden in silence, only speaking when one of them needed to take a break. As they rounded one final curve, the town of Chantal finally appeared before them. Scully offered a silent prayer of thanks. Despite the slow pace they had kept, she was exhausted and her head had been pounding like a jack hammer for the last hour. Five minutes later they came to a halt on the edge of town. Chantal was very much like Caveton. Buildings lined the three main streets and then the signs of civilization petered out into nothing once again. Some of the edifices were quite old...boarded up with holes in the sidings. Occasionally a roof bowed inward, threatening to collapse. Then, between the ancient ruins, a brand new spit-and-polish creature stood. Homes and stores that looked as though they were still occupied. They walked down Main Street, pushing their bicycles, Mulder on the left and Scully on the right. Mulder stopped suddenly and called out. "Scully. Over here." He pointed behind a modern two story home. Scully ditched her bike and walked over to him, following his gaze. Looking past the house into the backyard, she saw the object of his attention. A clothesline hung in the rear. Shirts and pants were quietly flapping in the light breeze that cascaded through the sleepy town. They moved through the yard, glancing about them, looking for any other signs of life. Scully reached out and touched one of the shirts. "It's still wet from the rain...it's probably been out here for a couple of days...at least." Mulder pulled out his gun and Scully quickly fell in behind him as they crept up to the back door of the house. Mulder opened the screen door, trying not to let it squeak as he pulled on it. He did not succeed. "Remind me to start carrying a can of oil, Scully," he sighed. They cautiously entered the house, finding themselves in the kitchen. One setting of dishes had been laid on the table and a large stew pot sat on the wood stove. Scully moved over to the stove to take a look. The stove was cold but the pot was full. Inside, the bacteria filled remains of some sort of soup swam. "Looks like tomato, Mulder..." "Too bad we didn't tell them we were coming. They coulda baked a cake," he replied. Scully opened the stove door. It was filled with ash, the embers long deceased. They finished searching the house to no avail. Whoever had been here was long gone. They regrouped in the kitchen. "Mulder, do you ever have the feeling that you're in the middle of a really twisted version of Goldilocks and The Three Bears?" Scully sat heavily in one of the chairs at the table. She began to play idly with the silverware before her. "Somebody been sleeping in your bed, Scully?" Mulder wiggled his eyebrows with a mock leer. He continued to nose around the kitchen and moved back into the adjoining living room area. He noticed an object on the floor by the sofa and bent over to pick it up. "Hey! Look what we got here!" Mulder returned to Scully, holding out his find. It was a man's leather wallet. "Does this mean we get to go shopping, Mulder?" Scully tried to joke as she took it from him and began to rifle through it. She pulled out a driver's license and Mulder leaned over to her shoulder to examine it with her. It had a very familiar style. The seal of the Commonwealth of Virginia was unmistakable, even from a distance. The photo of a man with blond hair and blue eyes stared back at them. The license gave his name as Mitch Ryder of 298C North Fillmore Street, Arlington, Virginia. Mulder flipped the license over in Scully's hand. "Hey! At least he's an organ donor...but I sure wouldn't want to be him..." Scully stared at him. "What are you talking about, Mulder?" "Poor guy's gonna have to stand in line for days to get a new license...have you seen the lines at that new DMV on Four Mile Run Drive?" Scully quietly shook her head, returning to business. "So, where is he now?" Mulder shrugged. "I don't know, but maybe we can find something else in one of the other buildings." ************************** 1400 hours Mulder and Scully had spent several hours combing through the other buildings, looking for clues and gathering provisions. They had been careful to stay together, not knowing what...or who... lay around each corner. Finally, tired from their search, they sat down in front of one of the newer looking buildings, a small market/gas station. "So, where do we go from here, Mulder?" Scully asked, a dose of defeat in her voice. She had expected...hoped...to find more answers. Instead, all they had found were more questions. "I don't know, Scully." Mulder looked at his partner as she rubbed the back of her neck. She had to be tired and sore. He imagined that they should probably set up camp in Chantal for the evening, even though he really wanted to move on. He brushed her hands away from her neck and began to massage her aching muscles. "We can spend the night here, then decide where to go in the morning." "Are you sure, Mulder?" Her eyes closed as she began to relax under the skilled touch of his kneading hands. "Yes. We're both tired. Besides, look at the sky...I'd say that a thunderstorm is headed our way." Scully glanced up and could see the large dark clouds swirling toward them from the west. It looked like a fierce storm. As if in response to their notice, large drops of rain began to fall in a dancing rhythm around them. They both hopped up, trying to decide where to run. "Scully, you head over to Ryder's house...I'll put the bikes away and join you in a sec..." Scully had no time to protest for Mulder was already shepherding his bicycle toward a shed next to the house. As the rain grew more persistent, she decided that she really had no desire to be drenched, so she ran toward the house. Mulder stowed his bike in the metal shed and ran back for Scully's bike. Hers was lighter since they had packed most of their supplies onto the back of his. He flew back across the street and threw open the door of the shed with a bang. As he pushed down the kickstand, he heard the rumble...only, it was not thunder. Scully stood just inside the screen door, waiting to throw it open for Mulder as he made his escape from the rain. She began to tap her foot as she looked up at the sky. What was taking him so long? Then she heard the noise. She slammed the screen door open and ran wildly toward the shed. "Mulder!" "Scully!" She heard him call over the din of sound. As she turned the corner of the house, a bright light filled her vision and a harsh gust of heated air blew her back, throwing her to the ground. Scully struggled to recapture some of the breath that had been knocked from her as she rubbed her spot covered eyes. The light and noise had stopped, the wind abated. She stared at the shed where Mulder had been moments before. Mulder had vanished. ************************** CHAPTER NINE 1405 hours "Mulder!" Scully screamed out, even as the rain pounded around her, soaking her clothes. She was met with silence. She turned her face up toward the sky and let the water pour across her as she tried to think. She lowered her head and blew the rain from her lips, her hair now hanging in wet bunches that clung to her face. They had taken Mulder. Only, she did not know who *they* were. Her shoulders sagged. There had to be a clue somewhere...something that would help her find him. She walked to the shed and looked inside. The only residents were their two bicycles. Nothing else. She got down on her knees and examined the floor, the sides of the door, the walls...everything. Nothing. She ran her hands through her wet hair, pulling it back from her face. She needed to think...she had to be missing something. She turned slowly and began to walk back toward the house, the loneliness already gripping her tightly. As she reached the front steps, she paused for a moment. Something was not right...she had a feeling that someone was watching her. She surveyed her surroundings. Nothing. *Mulder would love this,* she thought. All of his paranoia had rubbed off on her...of course, considering that he was missing, maybe a little paranoia was a good thing. As she turned back toward the house, she could have sworn that she saw some movement in the corner of her eye. She took another step toward the door and then spun around quickly. The man watching her from behind the corner of the neighboring building was taken by surprise. He stumbled from his hiding place and began to run down the street, splashing through the mud and deepening puddles of rainwater. "Stop!" Scully cried. It took a few seconds to shake herself from the shock of seeing another person. She ran toward the street and realized that she would never catch the man on foot. She bolted to the shed and retrieved her bicycle. She pushed it through the mud of the sideyard and out into the street. She jumped onto it and began to chase the stranger. She could still see him ahead as he passed the last building on Main Street and headed down the road into the forest beyond. She pushed her legs to pedal faster, even as they moaned in protest. She was gaining on him. Just another minute and she would have him, although she had just remembered that she was unarmed...she had no idea what she was going to do with him once she caught him. The man could sense her and jumped from the road and began to run through the woods. Scully stopped and dumped the bicycle in the middle of the road. She ran after him, calling after him, telling him to stop. She ignored the branches that slapped at her face and arms as she jumped over rotten logs and tree roots. The chilling rain had numbed her. The man was badly winded. He knew that he would have to stop soon. He had not planned for this contingency. Of course, he thought, every thing had else gone wrong...what was one more screw-up? The time had come for him to make the decision he had wanted to avoid. Actually, he had already made the decision of what to do, it was just getting up the nerve to take action. He headed down a small hill...just a little farther. Scully raced over the hill and began to slide down the other side. The man was just a few yards ahead. Suddenly, he slipped and fell heavily onto his stomach. She stopped a few feet behind him, gasping for breath. "Please," she began. "I don't want to hurt you." She waited for a response. The man did not move or make a sound. She slowly circled him. It appeared as though he had been knocked unconscious by his fall. She edged closer and poked at his side with her foot. He still did not move. Her need to talk to him, to hear the sound of another human voice, a voice that might be able to explain things to her, overrode any alarm bells that were sounding in her head. She crouched down beside him and began to roll him over. Suddenly, the man rolled onto his knees, raising a gun toward her. Scully only had a fraction of a second to realize that he was holding *her* gun. He lunged forward and slammed the hard metal against the side of her head. Her last thought was of how many agents were killed with their own weapons...and the irony that she had always thought it would never happen to her. ************************** 1600 hours Mulder awoke to a splitting headache. He cautiously opened his eyes, ready to shut them tightly again if the world began to spin. He lay on his back, staring up at a metal ceiling. Where was he? What had happened? It slowly came back to him. He was in the shed. He turned his head and saw his bicycle. He had brought the bikes in from the rain...there had been a loud noise...then a bright light. A coldness gripped his stomach. Where was Scully? He sat up quickly...too quickly. Bile rose in his throat and for several moments he teetered on the edge of losing every ounce of Spam that he had eaten for the past few weeks. Finally, the nausea ebbed and he was able to swallow and take a few deep breaths. He scanned his environment once again. Something was different. He at looked at his watch out of reflex, only remembering that it had stopped over two weeks ago when he saw its silent face. He looked outside and saw that it was no longer raining. The ground was still wet...but, that still did not tell him what he needed to know. How long had he been *gone,* and where was Scully? Had he been gone for three days as Scully had? He had no way of knowing. As his mind continued to clear, he realized what was missing...Scully's bike. Had she taken it somewhere? He stood up and stretched out some of the soreness in his long limbs. He didn't think that he had any serious injuries...just a nasty headache. Aspirin would definitely be of help at this moment. He reached for his backpack...but, it wasn't there. He had been wearing it when the noise and light rushed down upon him...but, it was gone now, along with everything in it. Mulder dropped his head and moaned. Everything in the backpack was gone...that meant that the implants that had been in Scully's back were gone now too. He had never removed them from the side pocket of the pack. He had been trying to keep them safe. The loss of the pack triggered another thought and his hands frantically searched his waist. His gun and holster were also gone. Disgust rolled over him. Not only were he and Scully now defenseless, he would have to figure out how to explain *this* to Assistant Director Skinner. He shuffled out of the shed, holding his hand above his eyes, trying to soften the glare from the afternoon sun. At least he could tell it was afternoon...too bad he had no idea *which* afternoon. He walked toward the front of the house. Maybe Scully was still inside, waiting for him. "Scully!" He kept calling her name, even though his throat was growing hoarse. He walked through the house, finding that everything...the dishes, kitchen, chairs, everything...was exactly as they had left it after their arrival in Chantal. Scully had not been there. Had she been taken again? He went back out to the shed. Maybe he could find some sign of her there. He walked toward the street, carefully stepping through the mud. That was when he noticed the tracks. Scully had pushed her bicycle through the mire. At least, he hoped that it had been Scully. He followed the tracks all the way out into the middle of the street. From the signs, it appeared as though she had gotten on the bike and ridden it south...headed out of town. The tracks appeared to still be fresh. Perhaps he had not been out of it as long as he first thought. Mulder ran back to the shed and grabbed his bicycle. He untied the packs of supplies from the back and laid them on the floor. Then, he pushed his bike out to the street. He headed down the road, praying that he was going in the right direction. He did not want to contemplate another question...why had she taken off in the first place? *************************** Scully was surprised when she found herself awake and alive. The first sensation she was aware of was the coolness of a damp cloth that had been placed across her left temple...a temple that was still throbbing from its earlier encounter with the hard metal of her own gun. A gag had been tightly tied around her mouth and her hands were bound with rope, although she was surprised to find that they were tied in front of her, not behind her back. Her feet had also been tied. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim room around her. She was laying on a thin mattress that had been thrown onto some sort of cot. She looked around cautiously, not knowing if the man was nearby. She was in some sort of small cabin. Beaten, wooden furniture had been perfunctorily placed about the room. A fireplace in one wall had obviously been used for cooking. She stretched her neck to peer around the table that sat a few feet in front of her. The movement caused her to groan before she could stop herself. She heard the scrape of a chair moving across the floor and within moments he was staring down at her. She looked up at her abductor and finally had a chance to see his entire face. Her eyes widened with recognition. He was the man in the driver's license she and Mulder had found in Chantal...Mitch Ryder. "I'm glad you finally woke up. We don't have much time." He stated. Scully searched his face, trying to read his intentions. There was no animosity...it was more like a look of determination...and maybe a little compassion? She moved her hands up to try and remove the gag from her mouth but he stopped her. "I'm sorry, but that has to stay put for now...and I'm sorry that I had to do what I did. I don't want to hurt you." Scully was shocked when he actually bowed his head, as if he were asking her forgiveness. She looked at him questioningly. "Look, I know this doesn't make much sense to you...it doesn't make much sense to me either. What I'm doing is completely against everything that I've been trained to do....but, we don't have much time and there's some things you need to know." Ryder gently took her by the arm and helped her to sit up. He caught the washcloth as it fell from her face. He then examined the bruise that was developing...dabbing at it lightly with the cloth. "You're gonna have a nice bruise, but you should be fine." Scully was starting to feel better. Ryder intended for her to have a future...at least, it seemed that way. Suddenly, he jumped slightly, as if he had heard something outside. He ducked away from her and ran to the window. He peered outside for several minutes before he finally relaxed again. He turned toward her again and moved back to a chair that sat next to her cot. He sat there for several moments with his head in his hands. Scully watched as he seemed to battle the demons that were tearing at him as he tried to come to a final decision. At last, he looked up at her. "I need to ask you a few questions first...just give me a nod or shake your head...okay?" Scully just stared back at him. "Look...I've got to know some things before I tell you what I have to tell you...it's important." There was something in his eyes that told Scully she should cooperate. She nodded her head reluctantly. "Did you take the implants out of your back?" Scully almost choked. How did he know about the implants? She nodded weakly. "And let me guess...Mulder had them in Chantal." He saw her eyes widen when he mentioned Mulder's name. "Look, Agent Scully...yes, I know who you are...I know alot about you..I wish to hell that I didn't...but I do. Did Mulder have the implants?" She nodded again. "Then, that explains it." His last remark was to himself. He stood and paced the room. He was obviously angry. "Why the hell did you do that? Don't you know what you've done?" He glared at her. Finally, his expression softened. Of course she hadn't known. He looked at his watch...Scully wondered why it wasn't affected as hers had been. "Okay. We've got about twenty minutes before all hell breaks loose. I need you to listen up and listen good. Your life and the life of Agent Mulder depend upon it." ************************* CHAPTER TEN Mulder panted as he brought his bike to a sudden halt. There was something laying in the road up ahead. The rainstorm had ushered in an early darkness and Mulder had to strain to see what the object was. When he first spied it, his stomach had dropped onto the pavement...he had been certain that the mass was Scully's body. His heart began to pump once more as he realized it was only her bicycle. He pedaled forward and examined the fallen transport. From the fresh scratches and dents, Mulder surmised that Scully had thrown it down in a hurry. But, why? He turned in a circle, trying to catch a glimpse of her. Nothing. "Scully!" he called. Nothing. He stooped over to examine the floor of the forest that surrounded the road. After several precious minutes, he found what he had been hunting....tracks. And, although he was certainly no outdoor tracker, he realized something that shocked him. There were two sets of footprints. Mulder ran into the darkening forest. ************************ Scully stared at her captor. He had pulled his chair directly in front of her and he was staring back at her, examining her expressions. He had claimed that he had information that would save her and Mulder's lives. She waited impatiently for him to start his spiel. Finally, Ryder leaned forward and lifted his hands toward her face. Scully flinched, suspicious of his every move. "Take it easy, Agent Scully. I'm just going to remove that gag...I think I'm gonna need you to talk..." He untied the gag and threw it onto the cot. "Just remember...I have the gun...no talking unless I ask you to...capiche?" Scully merely nodded. It was, after all, pretty pointless in yelling or anything...there wasn't anyone else around to hear her. She unconsciously rubbed her sore jaw. "So, tell me, Agent Scully. Do you believe in UFO's?" Ryder began. Scully's eyes widened. This was somehow going to save her life? This man had to be nuts. Ryder held up a hand, reading her thoughts. "Bear with me here...and actually, I should rephrase the question...Agent Scully, do you believe that space craft operated by intelligent life forms from beyond earth are visiting us?" Scully pondered how best to answer the question. She did not want to set this guy off by telling him exactly what he thought and then find out he was some sort of UFO disciple...he still had the gun. "Mr. Ryder...if that is your name...if you know so much about me, then you should know exactly what I believe on that subject." Ryder laughed. "Good for you, Agent Scully. Yes, I do know...you are a skeptic. Good for you." He leaned forward as if he was about to tell her a secret. "And just so you know, I don't believe in them either." Scully was taken aback. Where was he going with this? "Then why are we discussing something that neither of us believe in?" She asked. "For a simple reason, Agent Scully. Our reasons for not believing are completely different. You doubt because no one has given you concrete, scientific proof that they exist...there are always other, more rational explanations. I, on the other hand, do not believe that UFOs carry intelligent life from other planets because I *know* they do not....but, more on that in a second... Now, why do you suppose so many people believe in flying saucers?" Scully's eyes narrowed. "I'll answer that one for you," Ryder expounded before she could utter a word. "They believe because they *want* to believe. "If you examine every 'sighting' and 'abduction' case, they almost all involve the same elements...a bright light...strange noises...loss of time. Somewhere along the line, in the middle of the Cold War when everyone was going a little crazy over the Russians, someone reported seeing a *flying saucer.* Somehow, this became linked with 'abductions' and the like. It was easy to believe in something sinister hurtling down upon us from the skies above. "The power of suggestion is very intense...and sometimes toxic to the truth. And, now, another question. If you wanted to hide something, how would you do it?" Scully's curiosity was piqued. She had become engrossed in Ryder's line of thought. "I'd hide it in the open..." she replied. "Excellent, Agent Scully. Excellent. That's exactly the way to do it...and then you put up a few smoke screens...diversions if you will...something that distracts everyone from knowing what they are really seeing." "What are you saying? You said that you *know* that UFOs aren't real..." Scully began. "That I did. Let's apply what we've discussed to a...*hypothetical* situation. If you were an intelligent non-human being and you had to do experiments on a bunch of 'earthlings' who suspected your existence, how would you avoid discovery and cover the abductions?" Scully thought for a moment. "Hypothetically speaking, I would make sure they were looking in the wrong place." "I always suspected you were the bright one." "But surely you're not saying that..." Scully started, incredulously. Ryder's answer was simple, matter-of-fact. "Yes. I am." Scully was speechless. This man was crazy...and yet, she found herself beginning to think in his terms...and this made her certain that she was going crazy too. "I said before that I do not believe that UFOs are piloted by aliens. I did not say that I did not believe in aliens...or abductions. They are here, Agent Scully. And they've been here a long time...only, they are not from some distant planet." Scully's eyebrow lifted. "Oh? And exactly where are they from?" she asked, the sarcasm in plain view. "I think you can figure that one out...I know that Dr. Kehoe would have, given a little more time. His death was really a shame...a waste. But, probably a fortunate thing in the end..." Ryder's voice trailed off. "How could a man's death be fortunate?" Scully demanded. Ryder ignored her question and continued with his speech. "Look around you, Agent Scully. Where do you think you are? Certainly not on another planet...and yet, it's not exactly Earth as you know it, either. Kehoe was a brilliant man....although some of his theories were a little off... He was brilliant, and dangerous, because he questioned what others accepted as fact. He despised how other men accepted things as scientific fact when the evidence wasn't there to back it up. He thought it was pretty damned presumptuous of man to assume they were getting a handle on the nature of the universe. Other scientists take their own biased assumptions and create their theories and wrap them up neatly in little packages for the world to accept as a mass-produced, force fed gospel. "And this is exactly why most people believe in UFOs....aliens from other planets.... Because, a few people in the know can pull any strings they want and everyone dances, dressed in their own naivete. Just fly a few 'mysterious' aircraft around with bright lights and shiny buttons and Presto! Change-O! You've got aliens from outer space!" "So where *are* we?" Scully interrupted. "Does your watch work, Agent Scully?" She shook her head. "Well, I'm not sure what you and Mulder managed to figure it out yet...but, time here is different than what you are used to." Scully nodded before she could stop herself. She mentally chastised herself. She did not want Ryder to know everything about what she and Mulder had found. "Let's just say that your life has been speeded up considerably by being here...but don't ask me to explain *that*... I failed physics at William & Mary." "But, where is *here?*" Scully insisted. Ryder stared down at her for a moment and smiled. "Are you a fan of the Twilight Zone?" Scully did not respond, although the theme from the show had definitely been playing in her head for over two weeks. "Well, you've just entered another dimension...." ************************ The figures moved through the darkness swiftly. Their progress had slowed slightly because they had no electronic equipment...no night vision goggles...no flashlights. Only carefully shaded lanterns that were held close to the ground. Each member of the group felt the urgency of their clean-up mission. Things had gone seriously awry. One of their own appeared to have defected...the wrong subject had been taken...the original target was missing. They could only hope to do damage control, before things got worse. And, they knew the price each of them would pay for failure. ************************* Mulder forged on, even though he could barely see his hand in front of his face. He still had a few matches in his pocket, however, all of the wood around him was too wet to burn. He could only try and follow the general direction of the tracks. He had grown more desperate when he found the signs of a struggle on the forest floor. Scully had obviously fought with someone...and apparently lost. There were only one set of tracks leading away from the site...and they were too big to be his partner's. He plodded on, pausing occasionally to stand still and listen for any sign of Scully. *********************** "Another dimension?" Scully exclaimed in disbelief. Ryder sighed and looked at his watch. "Look. We only have a few minutes left, and we still have alot to cover..." "Like what those implants in my back were..." Scully interjected. Ryder glared at her. "We've run out of time for the pleasantries, Agent Scully. Now, you will shut up and listen. It's up to you to believe or disbelieve. It's out of my hands now and frankly, I'm tired of being responsible for you." Scully stiffened at his change in tone. She had let her guard down and forgotten that this was a dangerous man...and apparently a desperate one. "Dr. Kehoe sadly stumbled onto something he wasn't meant to... But, once the damage was done, the powers-that-be decided to use it to their advantage. Why do you think *you* were called in on the case? Kehoe had found one of the doors into this dimension by mistake...a rare occurrence in itself. What you don't realize is that *you* have been here before." Scully began to feel sick. She did not want to hear these words. "You were meant to be in that mine...but Mulder was not. Someone got trigger happy and jumped too soon, instead of waiting until he was out of reach. What was supposed to happen was that you would be transported, the mine would collapse and you would be given up for dead....therefore, no one would realize that you had been 'abducted' again. Instead, the idiot transported you both here. "They don't want Mulder. He's too valuable on the outside. You were the one they considered expendable. When you both turned up here, it took some time for the board to decide what to do. In the meantime, they had you 'taken' from here in order to conduct a few experiments...and to implant a tracking device under your skin. That way, they could keep tabs on you and Agent Mulder. They had no idea that you would remove them so quickly. And they certainly did not think that Mulder would be carrying them around. "When he walked in that shed, they thought it was you...he was not supposed to be there." "What have they done to him?" Scully demanded. The fear that had been eating at her was escaping. Mulder had been taken...and possibly killed...all because of her. Ryder hung his head. "I really don't know. We had our little romp through the woods before I could find out. I'm sorry. I would suspect that he's okay...as I said, they consider him too valuable to dispose of...at least, they *did.*" "So, they performed these 'experiments' on Kehoe and Renfoir too...and then erased their memories?" Scully asked. Ryder paled. "How did you know that?" Scully knew that she had walked into that mistake blindly...her fear for Mulder was overriding her usually cautious nature. "Did he leave something...a note?" Ryder demanded. Scully bowed her head and remained silent. Ryder snorted in disgust. "Fine. Don't tell me. But, I will give you this warning. The only way Mulder has a chance of getting out of here alive is if he leaves everything behind...everything. He must not take any notes back. His memory will be erased, just like every abductee before him. But, if they know that he has notes...hard evidence of what has happened...they will kill him. The only reason they have not killed him before now was because he has never been able to get the physical proof he needs to make others really listen...that is, besides his partner." "If you expect us to leave the proof behind, you're insane..." Scully insisted. "No, Agent Scully. I am very sane. *You* will be the crazy one if you let Mulder go back with his proof. Surely you must know how these *shadows* work. You know that I am telling you the truth. If you truly care about your partner's well-being, you will send him back without whatever it is you found." Scully suddenly noticed Ryder's choice of words and sat up. "What do you mean...*I* will send *him* back?" she asked. Ryder's gaze softened. To Scully, his expression seemed to convey some form of pity. "The implants, Agent Scully...it's why I was so upset when I found that you had removed them. They were not supposed to be removed while you were here." "What......" Scully stammered. "They weren't just to track you. They were put there to control you later. Where we are...it's just a kind of *abductee purgatory.* You live here, bide your time here...oblivious to the experiments...yet readily available when *they* need you. Then, they take you *beyond* and do what they will. If you're lucky, they send you back here. If you're really lucky, they send you home...memory free and ignorant of everything...even if you have aged inexplicably...another reason folks can't stay here too long. If you age more than a year or two, it's impossible to go back to our regular time frame...it opens too many cans of worms." Scully was about to interrupt him again, but he waved her off. "I know..the implants. They were not only tracking devices...they also monitored your body...your metabolism and the like. In fact, they were designed to emit certain signals to your body. As long as you are here, you need those signals. You see, they also injected you with a toxin...one that would remain dormant as long as the signals kept it that way. But, now that you've removed them...well, the toxin is already at work." "Why should I believe any of this?" Scully's voice wavered...she was trying to deny what she had heard...but things made too much sense. "Agent Scully, I think you know I'm telling you the truth here. This is why you can't go back *home.* If you stay here, you may be able to evade capture...or they could take you and stop the process. But, as long as you are here, you have some time...probably a month before the toxin kills you. "But, if you go back..." Scully's voice was monotone as she finished the sentence. "If I go back, time returns to normal...it speeds up...I'm dead in a day." "Actually, it'll be more like twelve hours," Ryder finished apologetically. He looked at his watch nervously. He ran over to the window once again and gazed outside. "Time's just about up." "Fine. Just tell me two things," Scully urged. "Shoot," Ryder consented. "How do I get Mulder out of here....and why are you telling me all of this?" Ryder stared at her and smiled. She really was pretty...too bad they never got to meet under pleasant circumstances. Then again, after watching her and her partner together, he somehow doubted that she was in the market for romantic liaisons. He pulled a slim black object from his pocket and threw it to her. Scully caught it and examined the item. It almost looked like a remote control. However, there were only two buttons. She looked at him questioningly. "You know where two of the openings are...that's where you go. Then push the white button. That'll get Mulder home. Just don't push the black button! You don't wanna go *there.*" Scully nodded and stuffed the device down the front of her shirt. "As for the second part of your question... I've known my fate for quite a while, but, let's just say that this mess up with you and Mulder sped up the process. And, if I'm gonna go down, I want to take some of those bastards with me." He smiled again. "Besides, Agent Scully, I had been dying to meet you again face to face. It's been worth it. And I want you to know this...it was not my choice to be involved in all of this. They made the choice for me." Scully remained silent. Ryder had returned to his serious facade. He walked over to her and pulled a large knife from his back pocket. He pulled her bound hands toward him and slipped the knife under the rope. The knife did its job quickly. A moment later, Scully's feet were also free. Scully started for the door, but Ryder stopped her. "Wait, Agent Scully. I think you'll be wanting your gun." Scully started towards her but he held up a finger. "I have to do one more thing first, though...and you should know, I've planted quite a bit of gunpowder under the floorboards...I'll be lighting it in a moment. But, one more thought. I know about Agent Mulder's search. His sister isn't here anymore...but, he probably won't believe that. Be careful what you tell him. Otherwise, he might not be willing to escape." "You know where Samantha is? Where is she?!" Scully shouted. "She's not *here,* Agent Scully. That's all I know for certain...and, now..." Ryder reached into his pocket and pulled out a match. He lit it and held it to a fuse on the floor. The cord erupted in flame. "We've got about two minutes lead time...." Then, Ryder raised the gun. Scully's eyes widened in horror. What was he doing? ***************************** CHAPTER ELEVEN Mitch Ryder stared at Scully, his eyes conveying his own version of an apology. He had firmly pressed the pistol under his chin, his finger slowly tightening on the trigger. "Good luck, Agent Scully." Scully started to lunge forward, desperately hoping to stop him. "No!" The loud crack of the shot erupted through the small cabin. Ryder's lifeless body fell to the floor. Scully gasped as she saw the damage and knew there was nothing she could do. The top of Ryder's head was completely gone...hollow point bullets tended to do that. She kneeled down beside the body, her ears still roaring with the echo from the gun. Her hands were numb and, in the back of her mind, she told herself that she was in shock. No matter how many dead bodies one saw in law enforcement, it was different when you saw the cause and effect up close and personal...no matter who the victim was. She knew this scene would take up permanent residence in her own mind's personal video collection, ready to play back in slow motion whenever the opportunity arose. She bowed her head for a moment, but then the flickering of the slow burning fuse reminded her of the need for due haste. She leaned over Ryder's body and removed her gun from his hand. With one quick look back, she ran to the door and burst outside, running full speed. ************************** The clean-up crew froze when they heard the shot. They were close...but, would there be anything left for them to sanitize? Their leader raised one hand and signaled the others. A series of clicks confirmed that safetys had been released...they were ready to attack...just a few hundred yards more. They quickened their pace. ************************* Mulder's heart jumped in his chest when he heard the shot. Scully! It was hard to judge the direction from where it came, but it seemed to have come from a short distance ahead and slightly to the right. The skies above were beginning to part, revealing just enough starlight for him to see for a few feet. Mulder's feet took off, not waiting for his permission. Suddenly, he heard a noise...feet rushing over the forest floor. They were headed his direction. Mulder knew he would not be able to discern the owner or owners of the feet until they were upon him. He jumped behind a large tree and held his breath. His heart pounded in his chest and he was almost certain that the beat could be heard for miles. The steps drew closer until they were even with the tree. It sounded like a single person. Mulder made his decision quickly. Throwing caution to the wind, he dove from behind the tree and tackled the noisy shadow. Mulder pinned the shadow to the ground, but the shadow fought back with a strong right hook that glanced across his chin. Mulder recoiled with a gasp. He recognized that right hook. He fell onto his back and found a gun pointed in his face. "Scully! It's me!" He cried out, hands raised in front of his face. The gun lowered. "Mulder?" Scully cried in relief. Then she reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. He was about to speak, ask for an explanation, but Scully pushed him forward. "Move it, Mulder! The place is gonna blow any second!" Mulder knew not to question his partner when she used that tone. He grabbed her arm and ran. They had made it another fifty yards before the first explosion. Mulder spotted a fallen tree and threw his partner behind it. He fell down on top of her, wanting to protect her from any flying debris. A short series of blasts rocked the earth for the next two minutes. Finally, the eruptions seemed to be finished. Mulder carefully raised his head and peeked over the tree. What appeared to be a giant bonfire had filled the forest with an orange and red light. Thick smoke filled the air as the flames touched the damp wood nearby. Scully joined Mulder as he continued to survey the site. Mulder let out his breath, not even realizing that he had been holding it all the time, and fell back against the tree. He looked up at Scully, who was still staring at the blaze. He scanned her face and finally noticed the new bruise that had developed on her temple. Unconsciously, his hand reached out to touch her face, but before it could find her, Scully had ducked down beside him, her eyes wide. "Wha..." Mulder started. She gripped his arm. "Bad guys...a bunch of them...with automatic weapons.." she explained, using her thumb to point back toward the fire. Mulder lifted his head and chanced a look. Dark figures were swarming around the area of the blaze. They were moving quickly...searching for something, or someone. "Looks like we're not out of the woods yet, Mulder." Scully observed. Mulder crouched back down beside her and smiled defiantly. "And I thought I was the one who used the bad puns, Scully." They got to their feet and began to move carefully toward the road...or at least, they moved toward where they thought the road was. Their progress was rewarded approximately thirty minutes later when their feet found the hardness of pavement. "Now what?" Mulder turned to Scully. She didn't respond. Instead, she just stood in the roadway, staring at him. "Scully?" She brought her hands to her dirt and smoke covered face and gingerly touched her aching temple. Then, she abruptly fell back onto the earthen embankment beside the road. Mulder rushed to her side. She lay on her back, with her forearm across her eyes. "Scully?" Mulder's anxious voice prodded her to slide her arm back from her face and look at him. "I'm fine, Mulder. Just tired." "Me too." Mulder responded as he laid down beside her. She slid her hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "By the way, it's good to see you, Mulder." They lay quietly for the next few moments, trying to catch their breath. The adrenalin rush that had fueled them for so long was fading, replaced by an achy weariness. Finally, Mulder stirred. "So, you wanna tell me what's going on now, Scully?" Mulder's words shook her from her lethargy. She knew that they were not in a safe position. She sat up suddenly and grabbed Mulder's arm, pulling him up beside her. "I'll try and explain...but, first, pull your shirt up..." Scully wasted no time, her hands were tugging at his shirt, trying to pull it free of his waistband. "Gee, Scully, do you really think this is the time?" Mulder retorted even as he acquiesced. He pulled his shirt up over his shoulders and Scully began to run her fingers across his sweat covered skin. Mulder peeked back at her over his shoulder. "Anytime you want to start talking...." Scully blew out the deep breath she had been holding, her fingers stopping their search. She rested her hand on his back as she spoke with relief. "I needed to to check and make sure they hadn't put the same implants in you." "And?" Mulder asked. "You're clean...well, you're not exactly clean...but no one's been performing surgery on you." Mulder tugged his shirt down as he turned back to her, waiting expectantly for her explanation. "Look, I don't think it's a very good idea to hash all of this out right here on the roadside. Those goons are still out there...I needed to check you out because I found out what those implants are for. We were right, in part anyway. One of them was a tracking device. At least we know that those guys can't pinpoint us, but I think we better get moving now. We need to get back to Chantal and get some supplies, but I imagine they will be looking for us there, so we need to get in and out of town fast. I'll try and explain everything else on the way...okay?" Mulder had about a thousand questions, but he nodded. Scully was probably right about their present position. They stood and began walking toward Chantal...hoping that they would locate their bicycles along the way. ************************* The short man in dark camouflage moved toward his leader. The fire had died down enough that the team had been able to examine some of the remains of the cabin. "Someone was in there...we can't tell yet if they were both killed or not...we've only found a few body parts." The leader nodded. They would have to proceed as though one of them had survived. That meant going to Chantal and Caveton. He sighed. It was going to be a long night...a nasty clean-up. He motioned to the group. Leaving two men behind to finish the search, he and the others headed toward Chantal. *********************** 0100 hours Mulder and Scully sat under a large tree, resting against its trunk. They had located their bicycles on the road and had rushed through Chantal, picking up some of the supplies that they had left in the shed. Then, they rode out of town, towards Caveton. Scully had filled Mulder in on most of the events that occurred after his disappearance, but she had yet to tell him about the implants...or about Ryder's comments about the journal and Samantha. About five miles outside of Chantal, exhaustion and darkness had forced them to stop. They moved off the roadway, careful not to leave any tire or foot prints. They took shelter under the low hanging branches of a large pine tree. The limbs provided ample cover. They would not be spotted from the road. The summer night meant that they did not have to build a fire, however, there was still a chill in the air. Scully wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms, trying to infuse some warmth. Her exhaustion had lowered her body temperature...she was finding it hard to get comfortable. Mulder noticed her predicament and pulled her next to him, wrapping his arms around her. She was too tired to make any comment...she simply accepted his helpful gesture. "Scully, I know you've covered the basics of what happened...but I also know you've left some details out. You said earlier that one of the uses for the implants was as a tracking device...what are the other uses?" Scully tensed in his arms. She had wanted to avoid this until morning. She decided to distract him with another topic. "First, Mulder, we need to talk about Kehoe's journal." "What about it?" Mulder went along with her attempt to change the direction of the conversation; however, he knew that he would return to his original question shortly. "Ryder warned me that we had to leave it behind. He said that as long as you left here without any physical evidence, you would probably be okay. Apparently, they want to keep you alive. But, if you take anything back...he said that they will hunt you down and most definitely kill you." "And you believed Ryder?" "I don't want to...but, yes...I think he was being straight with me. Besides, this is not the first time that these...whoever...have been willing to kill you to keep you away from proof." "You've certainly got a point there, partner. But, you also know that I can't leave evidence behind...." Mulder prepared for her protest. "I know..." Mulder was shocked by her support. His mind raced as he thought of actually succeeding in bringing proof of this place to the outside world....then, his imaginary world crashed. "Oh no..." Mulder moaned, his voice filled with nausea. "What is it, Mulder?" "The journal," his voice cracked. "It was in my backpack...it's gone. They already have it." "Are you sure?" Scully asked, even though she knew the answer. "Yes. I grabbed it before we left Caveton. I didn't want to leave it behind. It was too important..." Mulder threw his head back against the tree in disgust. "Then maybe we can get you back safely after all..." Scully mumbled. She hadn't meant for Mulder to hear her exact words...but he had. "What are you talking about...get *me* back safely? Am I going someplace that you're not?" Mulder demanded. He pulled away from her and turned her around to face him. He lifted her head when she would not look him in the eye. "I said...what are you talking about?!" Scully pulled back and lowered her head. "The implants, Mulder..." "What about them?" "They were more than just tracking devices...." "Are we gonna play twenty questions here, Scully, or what? What were they?" Scully pulled her knees up beneath her chin, hugging her legs. Mulder was fighting the wave of panic that was growing in his stomach and throat. He placed his hand on her back, wanting to encourage her to talk to him. "They were there to monitor my body and...they were designed to keep me here until they were through with me." "How?" Mulder's voice broke. "They emitted some sort of signal....remember the mark on my arm...where we thought that blood had been taken?" Mulder nodded. "We were wrong on that one. They injected some kind of toxin into my bloodstream...one that would remain dormant as long as the implants continued sending out the signals." "And we took them out..." The horror dawned upon him. "Ryder said that if I stay here, I might have a month before it kills me...maybe enough time to find out what the toxin is...or to be recaptured and have the process stopped...but, if I go back to the *real* world...I'd only have a few hours." Mulder's head was spinning as he tried to figure a way out of this desperate predicament. He latched onto one thought... "But, your body should slow down when we get back...you should still have a month wherever...whenever...you are..." Scully shook her head. She had already considered this possibility. "No, I don't think so. It takes time for a body's metabolism to adjust to time differences. Think of it like jet lag...when you fly to Europe, you go forward in time. It's not too hard when you get there to adjust, but, coming back...it takes days for your body to adjust when you get back to your normal time zone. By the time my body adjusts to the new time, the damage would be done...I might have a few extra hours...not days and certainly not months." Mulder was silent. Scully was the doctor...she certainly would have already considered every possibility. "So, what do we do? I'm not going to leave you here...and I'm sure as hell not gonna let them take you again..." Mulder's eyes blazed with anger and frustration. It was time for one of their trademark miracle escapes...but he was drawing a complete blank. "I can only think of one thing, Mulder..." Scully spoke softly. She knew Mulder was not going to be thrilled with her plan. *************************** CHAPTER TWELVE 0300 hours The dark men swept through Chantal, their weapons waiting for the chance to speak. They were methodical in their search through every building, every street, every possible hiding place. Their intensity and desperation were only betrayed by the tautness with which each of them held their trigger fingers. Their leader shook his head in disgust. No electronics...no motor vehicles...all by necessity. He and the others had been trained for these conditions...trained to leave no stone unturned...to make no assumptions. They would achieve their goal on this mission despite the adverse conditions. Once they were satisfied that their search had been thorough and complete, they regrouped and then turned their focus on the road to Caveton. ************************ Scully lay with her back against Mulder. There was no way she could sleep. She had argued with him for almost an hour before he realized that she was offering the only possible solution to their grim situation. Their final words played through her head for the hundredth time. "Mulder, do you trust me?" "You know I do, Scully...you know I do. I trust you with my life." "Then...you have to trust *me* with *my* life." He had looked at her, searching her face, looking for some sign of doubt. He hadn't found it. "Mulder...you know that I trust you...that's what I'm doing now. I'm trusting you with my life...I know that you will do everything possible to help me...and will probably do a few impossible things, too...." she had smiled. "This is the only way you can help me. As usual, I'm depending upon you." She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Mulder's even breathing. She wondered if he had really fallen asleep. They had agreed to catch a few hours rest before going on to Caveton to initiate her plan. She had suggested that they get back on the road, but Mulder had insisted on staying put for a few more hours. True, it was dark and they could not afford to use lanterns...and she admitted that she was tired and it didn't take a psychic to know how exhausted Mulder was...but she had only relented when she saw the look in his eyes. What Mulder really wanted was to spend a few more hours with her. He was scared and so was she. She concentrated on making her breathing match Mulder's slow, relaxed respirations. Maybe then she could get some sleep. It started in her legs. A dull, cramping of muscles. She shifted slowly, not wanting to rouse Mulder. She reached down to massage her right calf and froze. The vice-like fingers of pain jumped through her stomach, to her neck and down her arms. She was paralyzed. Her body was stiff and would not obey her commands as she desperately tried to gasp for breath. She felt her muscles contracting in spasms of their own volition. She tried to cry out to Mulder, but could only emit a small gasp. Mulder lay beside his partner, staring at her back. He knew that she wasn't asleep. There was no way he could either. Her plan kept running through his head...he kept trying to find a way around it...there had to be another way. But, he couldn't find one. They would have to go through with it. He wanted to wrap his arm around her...he wanted to wake up and discover all of this had been a dream... In the end, he had only succeeded in convincing Scully to stay there with him for a few hours. He just needed to be with her a little while longer. He was terrified of losing his best friend. His thoughts ended when he felt her move away from him slightly. Then, her body went rigid. Before he could try and process what she was doing, he heard her gasp. Mulder sat up and rolled to his knees, leaning over Scully. Even in the darkness, he could see her face, her eyes wide and rolled back in pain. "Scully...what's happening?" He wanted to yell, but knew he had to keep his voice low. All Scully could do was gasp for ragged breaths as her muscles continued to clench and harden. Mulder was at a loss. It had to be from the toxin...but he had no idea what to do except hope that it passed soon. He placed his hand on her forehead and stroked her hair, wanting to let her know that he was was there. Then, he heard a faint noise from down the road. He froze, watching and listening. A tiny light appeared briefly approximately one hundred yards away...a few seconds later, it appeared again, this time closer. He knew that it had to be the men from the explosion site. They were searching for him and Scully. He was confident that they had hidden all of their gear well...and that the tree branches gave them sufficient cover to escape detection...but, if Scully made any noise...they were dead. He looked down at his partner as she struggled for breath. He had to do something now. He quietly laid down beside her and pulled her into his chest, burying her mouth in his shirt, praying she wouldn't make a sound, praying that she could still breathe. He draped his legs over hers and pulled her tightly against him, as if he were trying to absorb her into himself. He counted to himself as the soft noises from the road moved until they were even with them. He held his own breath as his mind continued its count. The light steps passed by, and soon receded into the darkness beyond. It was several minutes before Mulder dared to move. Only then did he realize that Scully had gone slack in his arms. For a moment, Mulder was scared that he had smothered her...or that the episode itself had killed her. He pulled back slightly to look at her face. "Are they gone, Mulder?" she whispered tiredly, her eyes closed. "Yeah, I think so. How are you doing?" He was more than a little surprised that she had been aware of the danger they had been in moments before. "I'm tired...I'll just take a nap here before we get moving..." She was asleep before she could finish her incoherent thought. Mulder debated whether or not he should release his hold upon her. After all, the danger seemed to have passed, but he didn't have the heart to move her. He stayed put and resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to be closing his eyes again for quite a while. ********************** 0800 hours The sun had been awake for over two hours before Scully began to stir. She moved carefully, every muscle screaming at her to stay still. She opened her eyes to find Mulder staring at her. Then she became aware that the pillow she had imagined underneath her head was actually her partner's arm. "Hey, sleepyhead," Mulder greeted her. His eyes were narrowed...he was watching to see if she was in any pain and she knew it. She lifted her head and looked down at the damp spot on Mulder's sleeve. She looked at him, embarrassed, but he seemed to be amused...and relieved. "Sorry about that, Mulder," she muttered as she pushed herself away from him. "Don't worry about it. It needed to be washed anyway." He responded. Scully sat up slowly, not wanting to repeat the ordeal of several hours ago. Mulder watched her expectantly. She looked around and suddenly realized how long she had been asleep. "Mulder! Why didn't you wake me up? We should have been in Caveton by now!" "You've got to be kidding, Scully. You needed the rest and you know it. I'm not sure what happened to you...but you were not in any shape to be traveling...and I'm not sure you are now either." She turned back to him and sighed. "I'll be fine...really. I'm just a bit stiff and sore." As if to punctuate her statement, she began to rub her arms and shoulders, trying to knead out the aches and pains. It felt as though she had run an entire marathon on her hands...and on her legs...and on her back... Mulder moved over behind her and proceeded to take over the job of masseuse. She gratefully acceded to his hands. "So, Scully, what happened...was it the toxin?" She closed her eyes as his hands continued to work out the kinks in her shoulders. "It must have been...it must act on the muscular system...." "How do you feel now?" "You know how your legs feel when you've run too long?...Well, my whole body has that ache." Mulder suddenly stopped his hands and sat down heavily beside her. "Listen, since this happened....we have to discuss this plan of yours..." Scully started to protest but Mulder stopped her. "No, Scully...I'm not backing out of it. I just want you to think out your part of it again, especially in light of...what happened last night. If the toxin caused that, then it's only going to get worse...right?" Scully nodded weakly. "Then, how do you know you'll be able to do what you have to do? How do I know you will?" Scully was silent. She knew he had a good point. She was worried about it too. She looked up at him and found her answer in his eyes. "Because if I don't...you'll kill me." Mulder smiled. Her eyes told him what he needed to know, despite her only half-joking remark. She had a reason to fight. She was determined to win. ************************* 1900 hours Mulder and Scully sat just below a ridge in the woods on the outskirts of Caveton. It was only a mile or so from the mine. They had slowly made their way here, staying off of the road, carefully and quietly finding their way through the forest. They knew that their hunters had to be in the area. They had chosen the ridge as a resting place until it grew dark. They would use the time to prepare to put their plan into action. Mulder had been relieved that Scully hadn't had any more "episodes" during their hike. He knew that she was aching and he wished that there was something he could do to help her. She told him that she had picked up some painkillers at the drugstore in Chantal during their quick raid the day before, and she assured him that she would use them as soon as she could. But, right now, she couldn't afford to have any of her mental faculties dulled by drugs. She didn't mention, however, that she suspected that the drugs had expired long ago. Mulder stared at the sky above. The sun was just beginning to fall beneath the horizon. "Looks like it's almost time, Scully." She nodded and grabbed the backpack of supplies from him. She quickly removed the other items she had obtained at the drug store. He watched her as she deftly tied the band around her arm and found a vein. Then she inserted the needle into her arm, the syringe filling quickly with her blood. Mulder winced and turned slightly at the sight. Scully would have laughed at him under any other circumstances. She removed the needle and finally got Mulder to remove the band from her arm. Keeping her arm bent to stop the bleeding, she pulled a small plastic bottle from the bag and carefully emptied the syringe into it. Then, she sealed the bottle, covering the cap with duct tape for an extra measure of protection. Mulder pulled off his shirt and Scully moved beside him. She wrapped the duct tape around his waist, tucking the bottle next to his skin. A few more passes with the roll of tape and she was done. "I hope you realize how much it's gonna hurt when I pull that tape off," Mulder teased. He realized that his words had fallen flat. They sounded hollow. Scully held a small piece of paper towards him and he took it and placed it in his pocket. "I hope that tells me enough...you know that I'm not gonna remember any of this when I get back..." Mulder stopped. They had already discussed the likelihood of him having any memories of what had happened. Judging from the experiences of everyone else who had traveled from here to the *real* world... all of the abductees... something happened during the process that wiped their memories clean. He wished that he could take back a novel recounting their experiences here...outlining everything about Scully's predicament, but, they both realized that there would undoubtedly be someone on the other end, ready to search Mulder for anything he tried to bring back. They had decided that he could only risk carrying two small things back...two things that would hopefully point him in the right direction: the vial of Scully's blood, for obvious reasons...it was her only hope, and, the short note...one he could quickly destroy. Scully stood up and offered him her hand. "Are you ready?" Mulder nodded as he took her hand and stood beside her. He started to walk but Scully pulled him back. She suddenly moved her hands around her neck and removed the cross necklace that she always wore. He stared at her as she placed it in his hand. "Maybe this will help..." Mulder simply nodded. ********************* The sun had finally set around them and the darkness had allowed them to slip unnoticed to the mine. Apparently, the commandos were centering their search around the town itself. They had not discovered that Ryder had given Scully the device. They stashed the supplies in the woods beyond the mine, knowing that Scully would have to make a quick getaway if their plan was to succeed. The sound and light show they were about to start would definitely attract unwanted attention. They stood just inside the entrance to the mine. Mulder had once again taken Scully's hand. It was time for the play to begin and suddenly he did not want to act out his own part. "Scully, are you sure we're doing the right thing here?" "Yes, Mulder...I am." Her voice was unwavering. He looked at her. "I keep trying to convince myself that we're not drugged...that we're not crazy...and that this isn't just all a really bad dream...Ouch!!! Scully! Why did you pinch me?!" Scully shrugged. "Just checking. I'd say we're awake." They grew serious again. "I just wish there was something I could do...anything that would make me remember..." Mulder began. "The note will have to be enough..." Scully said softly, doubt creeping into her voice. Mulder looked at his partner...his friend, and suddenly thought of something. Something that at least he should be able to remember...something he would never do in the "real" world. He smiled down at her and she returned his gaze with a puzzled smile. "What is it Mul...." Mulder leaned down and cut her off with his lips. Scully was too shocked by the kiss to react. He let it linger for just a moment before he drew back, his eyes searching her flustered...and blushing face. "I think I'll remember that," Mulder mused...a flush creeping across his own features. Scully was too shocked to speak. She shook her head at him and then pushed him forward, down the tunnel. "Go...Now...before I kill you myself," she muttered. Mulder stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. He stared into her eyes, hoping to find strength there. He wasn't disappointed. "Scully...just don't forget our *date*." "In about six hours your time, I know...I'll be there..." Scully finished. He still didn't move. Scully smiled softly at him. "Don't worry, Mulder...I'll be fine." She hoped that her smile hid the lump that was developing in her throat. She really did not want to be left alone here. She shook herself and, before she could change her mind, before Mulder could change his, she moved back from the mine and aimed the device. "Be careful, Mulder," she whispered, her hands shaking, as she pushed the white button. One moment later, a bright light filled the mine, a rumble growing in its throat. Scully ran toward the forest. She knew that Mulder was gone. *********************** CHAPTER THIRTEEN July 27, 1997 0100 hours Outside Caveton Mulder opened his eyes at the sound. The roar of falling debris. Dirt and small rocks cascaded down upon him. He sat up quickly and tried to survey his surroundings. It was dark except for a pinpoint of bright light in the distance... coming from the mouth of the mine. *The mine!* Mulder's head screamed. The disturbance from his "arrival" was causing the tunnel to collapse. He could remember everything. He frantically patted at his chest to make sure that the bottle was still there, then jumped to his feet and began to run. The earth seemed to want to swallow him whole as more dirt and wooden beams began to fall. It was following him, calling his name. As he neared the entrance, he could hear shouts above the din of the now living earth. Beyond the gaping entrance, dark figures silhouetted by a bright light, scurried about. He continued to run, even after he was hit by the cool night air of the outside world. A pair of hands grabbed him roughly, shaking him from his desperate run. Mulder stopped, leaning over and panting for breath, and he slowly turned to see the owner of the hands. "Agent Mulder!" Mulder was shocked to see Assistant Director Walter Skinner staring down at him, shaking him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Mulder was quickly formulating his plan...one that would involve his boss. "Agent Mulder! Where is Agent Scully?!" Skinner yelled. Before Mulder could respond, everyone began screaming and three men ran up to the F.B.I. agents, pushing them back. "It's caving in! Get back!" One of the men yelled. A sudden storm of dust and debris spewed from the mouth of the mine. No one spoke for several minutes, until the dust finally began to settle. Mulder looked at Skinner and raised a weak hand, pointing back to the mine. "She's in there...." he began. Skinner began to bark out orders, yelling at the others to get back to digging. No one moved. They knew it would be hopeless. Mulder pulled at his arm. "Sir,....she was dead." Mulder said softly. Skinner just stared at him. Then, he rolled his head back and stared up at the sky. Mulder glanced around, checking out the mass of humanity around them. Mulder was impressed. It looked as though Skinner had called in everyone west of the Mississippi to dig them out. There must have been at least one hundred rescue workers, not to mention several pieces of heavy equipment. Finally, his eyes rested on the two helicopters that sat in a clearing on a nearby hill. Suddenly, Mulder realized that he had no idea what time it was...not to mention what day it was. He knew he had to find out, he had to keep track of time. "Sir, how long have we...was I in there?" Skinner cleared his throat before answering. He was still trying to recover from the loss of one of his agents. "About twelve hours... It's a little past one now." Mulder was amazed at how quickly Skinner had been able to mobilize the rescue force. Skinner scanned Mulder, looking for any injuries, suddenly remembering that the man had been trapped for more than half the day. His clothes were covered in dirt and dust. The dust still fell from his hair...Skinner frowned. Mulder's hair seemed longer for some reason. He shook himself back to the needs of the here and now. "Are you injured?" Skinner began. He waved at several medics nearby. "Medics! This man needs to be attended to!" Mulder straightened up and shook his head. "I'm fine, sir." Then, remembering the act he had to continue, "I just need to get away from here. Is one of those yours?" He asked, pointing to the helicopters. "Yes. But, are you sure you're not hurt?" Skinner pressed. Mulder lowered his voice so that no one else could hear as he looked Skinner directly in the eyes. "Yes, sir. We just need to get out of here." Mulder held his breath, hoping Skinner would catch some of the meaning behind his tone. Skinner eyed the young agent before him. He had seen Mulder give the same look to Scully on several occasions. It was a signal. One that asked for his trust...and his help. He slowly nodded. "Wait here." Skinner walked off to confer with what appeared to be the head of the rescue team. In the meantime, someone walked over to Mulder and draped a blanket over his shoulders, quickly murmuring their condolences to him on the loss of his partner. A few moments later, Skinner was by his side and leading him to the helicopter. As they reached the craft, its motor revving up, Skinner leaned into him. "I trust, Agent Mulder, that you're going to explain all of this to me sometime in the near future?" Mulder cast him a glance of thanks and climbed aboard. "Why don't you tell me where we're going? That would probably help." "We've got to get to our regional lab...now!" Skinner leaned forward to talk to the pilot and then the helicopter whirred into action, heading into the clear sky. ******************** The man stood and watched the helicopter as it lifted toward the heavens. His head slowly tipped back until the view was blocked by the short visor of his hard hat. He stepped away from the throngs of business and moved into the shadows, his phone in his hand. "You can call off the search. It appears our mission is almost complete," he breathed quietly. "And how do you know this," the cold voice replied over the line. "They came back. The man got out, but the woman is no longer a problem...and they won't be finding anything of her...there was a cave-in." "And what about him?" "He was taken from the scene. It doesn't seem that he remembers anything. And he did not have anything in his possession..." The strain had been obvious in the last phrase. "How can you be sure of this? You must make sure..." "Understood," the man replied and hung up the phone. He slipped it back inside his jacket and made his way to the second helicopter in the clearing. He would make sure. ************************ FBI Regional Headquarters 0215 hours Skinner jumped out of the helicopter seconds after it landed on the roof of the building. He turned to see if Mulder needed any help. Mulder shrugged him off and jumped out, running for the door on the other side of the roof. He ran like a man on a mission. Skinner motioned to the pilot and took off after his agent. Mulder had remained quiet for the entire ride. The only crack in his facade had been the way his fingers nervously, impatiently tapped across his knee as he stared out the window at the darkened landscape that passed below them. Skinner had not pushed him for answers...it had been too noisy for a debriefing anyway. But, now, he knew he had his chance. Mulder threw the door open and had just stepped inside when Skinner grabbed him by the elbow. "Agent Mulder, I need some answers...what happened to Agent Scully?" Mulder realized that he had to tell Skinner something...he needed his continued help. But, somehow the idea of spilling out a story about traveling to another...dimension?...just didn't seem entirely credible. He had to come up with something, though. He pulled his shirt open, several buttons flying down the stairwell in the process. He ripped the tape from his stomach and held the bottle up for Skinner to examine. "What is this, Mulder?" "This is Scully's only chance..." "Wha..." "Look, there's no way I can tell you everything...there just isn't time. Scully is not in that cave. She'll be back in less than five hours and we have to be ready to help her?" "What are you talking about?" "She's been injected with some kind of toxin....this is her blood. We have to have it analyzed...find an antidote...and we don't have much time." "This is crazy. You said that she was dead. Where is she? We'll go pick her up and get her to a hospital." "You can't get to her. Look, this is very hard to explain...she'll come to us in five hours...we just have to be ready!" Mulder broke free from Skinner and ran down the stairs in search of the lab. Skinner grimaced and ran after him, wondering what the agents had gotten themselves...and him...into this time. ********************* Scully had stayed close to Caveton, slipping through the trees, finding shelter in a small mine that had long been boarded up and forgotten. On the second day, she had tried to go outside, wanting to look for any signs of the men that were probably still in the area. But, her body had other plans. The second attack had been more severe than the first. And, it had lasted longer...at least, she thought it had. It had hit in the morning. When she awoke, the afternoon sun was already beginning to fade. She sat up weakly, running her hands through her mussed and sweaty hair. Slowly, her head began to clear so that she could think. This was going to be a problem...she needed to keep track of time, and if she kept having these episodes, it would be easy to miss her *appointment* with Mulder. She grabbed her canteen and took a long drink. The water seemed to give new energy to her aching limbs. She leaned forward and stuck her head out of the entrance to the small tunnel. There was no sign of the goon squad. Scully knew she needed to get up and walk around. She had to see where her pursuers were...see if they were still looking for her. She and Mulder had hoped that they would give up their search after Mulder left, assuming that she had died in the explosion set off by Ryder. She had planned to stay close to the mine...her exit back to the real world, but curiosity and paranoia won the day. She stood slowly, leaning against the rock wall for support. An hour later, Scully stood on a hill just above Caveton. The streets and buildings were completely deserted. She smiled slightly. Maybe their plan was working after all. Mulder must have gotten back safely...otherwise, the troops would still be looking for them. She slowly made her way down into the town, but only after pulling the gun from her waistband. There was no sense in taking stupid chances. *********************** FBI Regional Headquarters 0315 hours Mulder had quickly tired of pacing the floor of the laboratory while Agent Thomas ran the toxicology tests. He had gone to the basement locker room, at Skinner's insistence, to wash off some of the dirt he had accumulated. Skinner had assured him that he would stay in the lab...just to be safe. He had washed up perfunctorily, the weariness and fear beginning to settle into his joints. He stared into the mirror. His hair had gotten too long...of course, a month without a trip to the barber would do that. And, he really needed a shave. But, all of that would wait until he got Scully back. If nothing else, it would give her some good fodder to tease him with. In the meantime, as was his usual habit when Scully's welfare was at stake, he would give these things up. His own personal form of Lent. He turned off the water in the sink and, grabbing a towel, sat down on a bench beside the lockers. He scrubbed the towel against his face, hoping it would wake him up. When it didn't work, he threw the towel down beside him. His hands rested on his thighs, too tired to move. Then, his fingers felt the objects in his pocket. He carefully, almost reverently, pulled the items out. Holding the paper in one hand, he held up the small golden cross, letting the fluorescent lights play off of it. He let his hand drop back to his lap. He felt guilty. Scully had given this to him to help him remember...and, now that he realized that his memory had been intact for some reason...he was sorry that she didn't have the cross with her. It was her symbol of comfort. He leaned his head back against the lockers. Why had he been able to remember? He thought back to the time he and Scully had been "transported" the first time. That time they had remembered. So, it wasn't the process itself that erased their memories. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Otherwise, how would Ryder and the others have been able to function? So, it had to be something that "they" did..something they injected them with... that made them forget. This meant that there was hope for Scully to remember also. A sick feeling spread through his gut. He remembered the warning that Ryder had given Scully. They weren't supposed to remember anything. That was supposed to be their only hope of surviving this...and if they knew he remembered. He was in danger...and Scully would be too the minute she came back, *if* she made it back to him. Mulder stared at the piece of paper in his other hand. He had been rubbing it back and forth between his fingers. Since he had remembered everything, he had found no need to read it...but, now, he had a sudden urge to look at it. It was his link to Scully...he needed to see her handwriting. He slowly unfolded the paper that had become worn by his hands. His face remained stoic as he read the first few lines of the brief epistle. Quick details of their plan. His throat caught, however, when he read the post script she had composed in her neat, methodical hand. "Mulder - I know you'll do everything you can. But, I don't expect a miracle. Please remember that, partner." He stared at the words. He desperately wanted to keep this scrap of a letter from her...take comfort in the fact that it had been in her hands mere hours ago, but, he knew what he had to do. It was too dangerous to keep it. He had so far evaded prying eyes, but he knew it would not be for long. He walked over to the metal trash can that sat beside the sink. He peered inside it and was glad to see it was empty. He reached into his pocket for a match. A minute later, a small blaze burned in the can. Mulder watched as the remnants of Scully's words curled into smoky rings. ********************** Toxicology Lab 0330 hours Skinner watched from his perch across the room as Agent Thomas continued his testing. He was always amazed at all of the equipment used by the Bureau. But, at the same time, now he remembered why he liked the job he had. He couldn't stand sitting and waiting around for some machine to spit out an answer. No, Skinner was much more into the hands on approach. He was just leaning back against the counter behind him when Thomas let out a whistle of surprise. "What is it?" Skinner demanded as he jumped from his stool. Thomas was staring at his computer screen. To Skinner, the graphs and lines were a completely foreign language. "What is it?" he repeated. "Just a second," Thomas replied as he pushed his wheeled chair down to the end of the worktable. He grabbed a slide and put it under the lens of his microscope. After waiting in agony as Thomas adjusted the focus, Skinner cleared his throat. The kind of sound that made most agents want to lose their lunch. Thomas sat up straight and turned to him. "I'm sorry, sir...it's just that I never expected..." his eyes narrowed. "Where did you say you got this?" "I didn't say...but, this has been injected into one of our agents. What is it?" Skinner pressed. "Well, sir, I can't be sure yet...but, if I were you, I would get that agent to a good hospital immediately...like yesterday." "Any time you want to explain yourself, Agent Thomas." Skinner hated it when people did not get to the point. "I need to send this to a friend of mine at The Mayo Clinic...he's an expert in venomous agents. This looks like some kind of snake venom, although it's not exactly like anything I've ever seen. More like some sort of hybrid." Skinner let out his breath. "But, do we have anything to treat it?" "I don't know, sir. But, if anyone can suggest something, my colleague can. Let me give him a call...I can send this stuff to him via computer." Skinner nodded and watched as Thomas pushed his chair back across the room with one hefty shove against the table. He grabbed the phone and punched a button. *Speed dial,* Skinner noted. Thomas must talk to this guy alot. They would have to trust him. Skinner stood and looked at his watch. He needed to find Mulder and fill him in. It looked as though they would be on the move again soon...and he wanted to know exactly where they would be moving to. With a motion to Thomas, he headed out the door. ************************ The man stood in the entry of the building. His dark suit blended in well. He approached the front desk and flashed his badge. The craftsmanship of his co-workers was excellent. The guard nodded to him, smiling. "How can I help you, sir?" The guard asked. "Assistant Director Skinner and Agent Mulder flew in about an hour ago...can you tell me where they are?" The guard checked his forms out of habit, although he already knew the answer. It wasn't often that they had a helicopter arrive on the rooftop in the middle of the night. "They were headed to toxicology, I believe. Would you like me to call up for you?" "No, thank you. I have a delivery for Assistant Director Skinner...and I'm to deliver it by hand." "Fine...Toxicology is on the third floor...the elevators are just around the corner." The man began to walk toward the elevators when the guard shouted after him. The man bit his lip. He really did not want have to create a mess in the lobby. "Sir! Wait" The man turned. "Yes?" The guard came up to him with a clipboard. "You forgot to sign in...sorry." The man relaxed. it wasn't like he was using his real name after all. He signed the form quickly and nodded as the guard returned to his post. The man moved to the elevator, deep in thought. Toxicology. This was not a good sign. Mulder must have remembered...or he brought something back with him...this was not good. He reached under his coat and pulled out a small piece of metal. The elevator doors opened and he stepped aboard, pushing the button to the third floor. As the doors closed, he pulled out his gun and affixed the silencer to its barrel. ************************ CHAPTER FOURTEEN FBI Regional Headquarters Third Floor - Toxicology Lab 0340 hours Agent Thomas leaned back in his chair. He had just gotten off the phone with his friend at Mayo, Dr. Jeffrey Doyle. Now, it was up to the computer to do its thing and send all of the files so Jeff could get to work. He shook his head. Whatever this thing was, Skinner's agent was in deep trouble. And probably in considerable pain about now...that was, if the agent was still alive. Thomas was glad he didn't know the agent's name. He didn't want to know. This way he could keep everything impersonal, or at least be as detached as one could be knowing that the life on the line was that of another law enforcement agent. He stretched his arms above his head, trying to work out some of the kinks in his back and neck caused from scrunching over the microscope. He was startled as the door behind him opened. Assistant Director Skinner must have found Mulder pretty quickly. He spun around to tell them the latest, but his mouth froze when he saw the man before him. ***************************** Basement Locker Room Skinner walked quickly down the hall. He wanted to find Mulder and get back upstairs as quickly as possible. The hallways were almost completely deserted. Of course, there wasn't much reason for anyone to be in the building at that hour unless they were working a breaking case. From the looks of things, it was a pretty dull week for everyone else in the FBI. He pushed open the door to the men's locker room. He was immediately assaulted by the usual locker room odors of sweat and water, combined with a liberal amount of industrial disinfectant. His nose automatically flared with discomfort. Then, he noticed there was something else in the air. "Mulder?" he called. There was no answer. He walked around the lockers and found himself by the sinks. The smell was strongest here. He looked down into the trash can and saw the cause of the odor. Something had been deposited and burned in the metal container. Somehow, he imagined that Mulder would know something about whatever had been destroyed. "Mulder?" By now, it was obvious that his agent with a nose for trouble was no longer there. Perhaps he had missed him in the elevator. Skinner frowned. He hoped that was the answer. But, knowing Mulder.... He looked around the room. There was no sign of a struggle...no indication of foul play of any sort. He headed back out into the hallway and started toward the elevators. ************************* Toxicology Lab "Can I help you?" Thomas spoke in surprise. He was not used to having so many unexpected visitors in the middle of the night. *Guess I have to amend a few of my midnight habits,* he thought ruefully. "I was looking for Assistant Director Skinner and Agent Mulder. I was told that they were here." The man stared around the room...looking for the cause of Mulder's presence in this lab. Thomas eyed him cautiously. He supposed that he must be another agent. Maybe he had news of the agent injected with the toxin. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name..." Thomas led. The man smiled and pulled out his badge case. "I'm Agent Marks. I have an urgent message for Agent Mulder." Thomas relaxed. "He and Director Skinner just stepped out while I finish up some tests here. You're welcome to wait here until they return." "Thanks. I'll do that." Thomas nodded and turned back to his work. He wanted to prepare some more slides from the blood Mulder had delivered to him. After a few moments, he decided it was too uncomfortable to not speak to Marks. Besides, all detachment aside, he wanted to know if Marks knew anything about the sick agent's condition. "So, do you have news about the sick agent?" Thomas spoke, but his eyes remained on his work. The man shifted slightly. Sick agent? The meaning of Mulder's emergency visit to the toxicology lab was beginning to form in his mind. Scully had to be alive...and she was now suffering the effects of removing the implants...wherever she was. "Um,...yes. Agent Scully's still holding her own right now," he ventured. He had guessed by Thomas' question that he didn't know much about the incident. "Well, I'm working on the problem now...hopefully we can have an answer soon." Thomas started to work just a little faster while he silently cursed himself for extracting the agent's name from Marks. He already regretted his mistake...and the fact that the agent was a woman... All semblance of professional equality be damned. He wasn't going to let a woman die. He hadn't noticed that Marks had moved up behind him. "Is that her blood?" "Yes. Agent Mulder brought it in. I think I've got a lead on it. We should know soon." "Too bad you don't have more to work with," Marks prodded. "Well, it would be better if we had her in the hospital...but, we work with what little we've got." Marks nodded and smiled to himself. That meant that the blood was probably the only evidence that Mulder had managed to bring back with him. But, he would find out for sure soon enough. In the meantime, he had one thing he had to do. "Look, I'm just gonna step outside for a sec...I've gotta make a phone call." "Okay...have at it." Thomas continued with his work. Marks stepped out into the hallway and moved down into a small, darkened alcove. He pulled out his cellular phone and quickly dialed the number. "It's me." "And what is your report?" "He's having some blood tested. The woman's blood. She is still alive. She must still be back there...she did not make the trip here, that I know." "Then he remembers?" "Apparently..." "We'll take care of the woman. I trust you'll do the necessary follow-up on your end?" The voice faded as it's owner took a long drag on his cigarette. Marks swore that he could smell the smoky stench through the phone. "I'll take care of things." Marks hung up the phone. ************************* Mulder trudged off the elevator and headed down the hallway toward the lab, rubbing his sore eyes. He was tired and frustrated. What was taking them so long to come up with something? He had thought that Skinner would have given him some news by now. He paused outside the door to the lab and took a deep breath. Then he turned the knob and entered. He was surprised to find Agent Thomas alone. There was no sign of Skinner. "Any news yet?" Mulder's voice crackled from fatigue. Thomas turned around. "There you are. Skinner went to get you...we've got a lead. I'm working on it now..." Mulder started to walk toward him, wanting to see what he was working on, as if he would be able to actually see the progress in the stack of slides before him. "Oh, by the way, Agent Mulder...there was another agent here a few moments ago looking for you and A.D. Skinner..." Mulder froze. No one was supposed to know that they were there. Before he could question Thomas further, he was aware that someone was standing behind him. He spun around and immediately saw the gun pointed at his chest. "No sudden movements, Mr. Mulder." Thomas spun around and his jaw dropped as he saw the man he knew as Marks holding a weapon on them. Mulder had instinctively gone to draw his weapon before he remembered that he no longer had one. "Missing something I'd say, Agent Mulder," Marks smirked. Thomas felt he should do something. He began to rise from his chair. "What's going on..." his question was cut short as Marks abruptly changed his aim and stroked the trigger twice, quietly silencing the lab agent, who fell to the floor, two neat holes directly through his heart. Mulder's face grew red and he clenched his hands. Marks had not only just killed another agent, he had just killed Scully's best chance for a cure. "Too bad you always have to bring innocent folks into all of your messes, Mulder. But, we certainly couldn't have let him get out with those test results, could we?" "What the hell are you talking about?" Mulder demanded. "We can't let you use the information you have. You weren't supposed to bring any evidence back. Too bad for you that you did. Too bad for Skinner too. And, I'd say that your partner will have a few problems also. Now, let's take care of the item you delivered." Marks moved over to the table and rummaged through several bottles until he found what he was looking for and picked up a large brown bottle. His gun remained steady as it focused on Mulder. Mulder's eyes searched around him and his legs tensed, waiting for an opportunity. Marks moved toward the bottle of Scully's blood and the slides Thomas had made. He dropped the slides to the floor and then placed the nearly empty bottle on top of the pile. He stomped on the bottle and it shattered beneath his heavy black shoes. He watched Mulder's eyes carefully as he held the brown bottle above the pile. "I'd say that this acid should take care of our problem...wouldn't you?" At moments like this, he really loved his job. It was a lot like when he was a boy and he picked the wings and legs off of flies...slowly and carefully, watching their bodies flail around before death. He tipped the bottle and the liquid made its descent to the pile. "No!" Mulder screamed. He lunged forward with a speed and violence that actually surprised Marks. Marks jumped back and was able to deflect most of Mulder's charge. Mulder crashed to the floor. "Very stupid...as usual. Don't you know we always win?" Marks spat as he pointed the gun. He finished pouring the acid over the pile of evidence. A cloud of smoke rose with a hiss as the acid completed its assignment. Mulder raised up just as Marks turned back to him, his eyes narrowed. Without a word, he calmly stroked the trigger once again. The impact of the bullet threw Mulder back against the wall and he slid to the floor. His eyes focused on the hope that had been destroyed before him. Marks moved forward, trying not to get any blood on his shoes. He had to do this job right. He pointed the gun at Mulder's head. ***************************** An Office in New York City The men sat in the darkened room. Their postures made it clear which man was in charge. "Mulder is being taken care of. That leaves the woman." "She's still alive?" "It appears so. Send two teams to the mine. I want both 'sides' covered. She'll have to make her way there. She will be stopped." "Understood." "And have the team on the other side spilt up. I want some to cover the mine, the others should search the town. She's probably holed up there." The man's underling did not move fast enough. "Do it now," the man in the big chair ordered. "Yes..." he muttered as he fled from the office. ************************* Caveton 2 Elm Street Dana Scully lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Mulder had been gone for six days. She had six more to go. She had been relieved to find the town deserted three days before. Evidently, they had called off the search for her, believing her to be dead. She had taken comfort in this knowledge. Mulder had to be safe and the plan was still working. Scully had found that the town had been thoroughly searched. She had been shocked to find that Kehoe's and Renfoir's bodies had been removed from their graves behind the building. These guys were paying attention to detail. At least they were gone for the moment. She knew that it probably wasn't wise for her to stay in Caveton for too long, but her 'episodes' were becoming more frequent...and the only comfort she had right now was being inside a building with a bed and a kitchen. She took the precaution of staying inside. She kept herself from using any of the lanterns, determined to make it look to the outside as though no one was inside. And she never parted with her gun. It never left her waist. The last attack had confined her to bed for most of the day. It was taking much longer for her muscles to recover...and it appeared as though the toxin was now affecting her central nervous system. She had to fight waves of dizziness and her arms and legs were becoming more sluggish, almost numb. She took a deep breath and pulled herself up into a sitting position. She hung her head down to her chest as the dizziness hit. She had to get up and get something to eat. Her hand reached reflexively to her neck, searching for some strength from the cross she wore. It took a minute for her to remember it wasn't there. "Mulder," she sighed. She took another breath in surprise. Her voice had become strangely weak. She looked to the nightstand and the glass of water and pill bottle she had placed beside the bed last night. She gripped the water glass tightly as she pulled the vial of pills toward her. She had avoided taking anything until now. But, she didn't think she would make it down the stairs without something to trample the pain in her muscles. She looked at the label...Percodan. There was an expiration date, but that made her laugh. Who knew how long the pills had actually been there...or who brought them there. She opened the bottle and tipped it until two of the pills lay in her hand. Closing the bottle, she put in back on the stand. With two monumental efforts, she swallowed the pills with the lukewarm water. She pushed down on the bed, sliding her feet to the floor. She stood slowly, ready to fall back on the bed if needed. The vertigo had diminished. Hopefully, it would be gone in a few minutes. She dreaded the time that she knew was coming. The time when she would be unable to stand after another attack. "Six days," she mumbled to herself. "I hope you're ready for me, Mulder... I hope I'm ready." She shuffled over to the window. It was going to be a nice day. Too bad she couldn't go out and soak up some sun. It might make her feel better. She made up her mind quickly. She was tired of acting like a scared rabbit, hunched in a hole. Patting the gun tucked in at the small of her back, she headed toward the stairs. "If they are still looking for me, I might as well make it harder for them," she told herself with mounting determination. She managed to maneuver herself down the stairs, although each step initiated a gasp. She grabbed her backpack from the chair by the door. She had kept it packed with supplies, just in case she had to make a quick getaway. She had already put her hand on the front doorknob when a feeling of dread overcame her. She wasn't going to get home. She shook the thought from her mind, but, in the process, she decided in a slight change of plan. She turned and headed for the back door, unaware that her last action had just prolonged her life by at least a few minutes. ********************* CHAPTER FIFTEEN FBI Regional Headquarters Toxicology Lab Mulder closed his eyes, waiting for his pain to end, knowing Marks was about to put him out of his misery. He held his breath, a cold cloud of fog moving through his body. When it finally came, the blast roared through the room, bouncing across his eardrums. He was surprised that he hadn't felt it...was this what it was like to be dead? But, then he heard the dull thud...and he remembered that Marks' gun had a silencer...he shouldn't have heard the blast. He opened his eyes as a strong hand gripped his shoulder. "Agent Mulder!" Skinner's concerned face was hovering over him. Mulder turned his head slightly and saw Marks' body, a river of blood beginning to outline his prone corpse. A ripple of pain coursed through his abdomen and he pulled his arms down over his blood soaked stomach. "Stay still, Mulder. Help's on the way," Skinner ordered. Skinner ran over to the phone and pushed the button for the front desk. Mulder was dimly aware of Skinner shouting over the phone, demanding help. He could not take his eyes off of the smoldering pile of debris that had once held the answers for Scully. Then, Skinner was back beside him, trying to help staunch the flow of blood. Mulder looked up into his face. "He...destroyed the samples..." Mulder's face contorted in a mask of rage and anguish as he tried to speak. Skinner glanced over his shoulder and saw the mess. Mulder's head fell back to the floor and he stared up at the ceiling. He had completely failed his partner. And that hurt more than the wound Marks' gun had inflicted upon him. Skinner stared around the lab, his jaw set. Marks had done a good job of destroying everything...but, then he remembered the phone. He turned to Mulder. "Don't give up yet, Mulder. There might still be a way." Mulder looked at him, puzzled, but willing to grab onto any string of hope offered to him. Skinner rose and moved to the phone. He looked down at the buttons, looking for the one that he thought Agent Thomas had pressed earlier. He picked up the receiver and pushed the button. The phone rang several times before it was answered. "Mayo...Dr. Doyle..." "This is Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI...did you receive a call from an agent named Thomas?" Doyle hesitated. "Look," Skinner pushed, "this is an emergency, Dr. Doyle. I need to know if he sent you the transmission with the blood samples. Another agent's life depends upon it." Doyle heard the desperation in Skinner's voice. This call was serious. Something was wrong and he needed to help this man. "Yes, I did. I got the files just a few minutes ago. I've been working on them. How can I help you?" "There's been an...'accident' on this end. All of our samples have been destroyed. You're our agent's last hope..." "What's going on?" Doyle interrupted. "Is Frank there?" Now it was time for Skinner to hesitate. "I'm sorry, Dr. Doyle...but Agent Thomas is dead. He was murdered and the samples were destroyed. I need you to understand how important this is..." "Oh my God..." Doyle's voice shook. "Look, Dr. Doyle. I want you to get your security guards around your office...now. Get every armed guard you have. Don't let anyone in. I'm going to send two FBI agents over to you asap. Their names are Bocks and Busch. Don't trust anyone else. No one." "Okay...I'll do that right away...Bocks and Busch..." "And please...find the antidote for that toxin. We don't have much time left. Only a few hours." "Yes, sir. I'll do what I can." Doyle's voice had regained some of its strength by the time the conversation ended. Skinner hung up the phone and moved back over to Mulder, who now had an almost transparent pallor about his face. "Did you hear that, Mulder? There's still a chance for Scully..." He looked up as he heard the commotion of personnel running down the hallway toward them. He turned back to Mulder. "Mulder...we're gonna get you to the hospital. But, you've got to tell me where Agent Scully is...where can I find her?" Mulder blinked. His tongue moved across his dry lips as he tried to form the words. "Caveton...the mine. At 0700 hours." Then, a horrible thought dawned on him. "But, the mine...it collapsed...." "What is it, Mulder? You said she wasn't there..." "She's not there...now...she will be...but, she can't...she won't make it." Skinner grabbed his arm. "Don't worry. I'll be there. I will find her. I promise you that, Mulder." Mulder looked into the steel eyes of his boss. He had to trust this man. He could hear voices drawing close...the others had arrived. Hands moved across his chest. Then, the fog he had been holding at bay crept over his eyes. Skinner watched as the paramedics carted Mulder out the door. He reached inside his coat and pulled out his cellular phone. It was time to call in favors from the boys in Minneapolis. He had to get them down to Rochester immediately. Minutes later, he was in a helicopter, on his way back to Caveton...and hopefully to Agent Scully. ********************** Caveton Scully had just opened the back door and was starting to descend the back stairs when she heard it. A noise that was not natural. It sounded man-made to her well-trained ears. She quietly closed the door and jumped down to the side of the stairs. She peered around the steps carefully, looking for the source of the sound. She looked up just in time to see a dark figure moving around the corner of the house two buildings away. She recognized the hooded figure as one of the "goon" squad. And he still carried an automatic weapon. They were back and they were looking for her. She looked around, desperately searching for somewhere to hide. Going back into the house was out of the question. She could now hear the sounds of the others searching inside the nearby buildings. Her wide eyes finally rested on the one place she might have a chance. It also happened to be the place she least wanted to hide. When the "squad" had removed the bodies of Kehoe and Renfoir, they hadn't bothered to fill the graves back in. The holes were about four feet deep and one of the tarps was still draped on the side of one grave. Scully glanced to her right and left, and when she thought it was clear, she darted to the grave on her hands and knees. She reached the edge and rolled in. She hit the bottom hard, almost knocking her breath into the next week. She grabbed the edge of the tarp and pulled it over her. For once, she was glad for her diminutive size. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about where she was, hugging her backpack beneath her. The stench of the damp earth combined with the tarp that still reeked from it's previous use was enough to make her gag. She swallowed deeply and tried to breathe through her mouth, wistfully thinking that it would be a very opportune moment to have a jar of Vick's vapor rub to shove up her nose. The minutes ticked by and Scully was aware of each one of them. She was normally not claustrophobic...but this was striking too close to home. She knew that her chances of surviving all of this were slim...and the idea of being buried in the cold earth...she really didn't need the reminder of where she was headed. The dirt worked its way into her clothes...up her sleeves...into her shoes...down her shirt...up her legs. The grains of decay moved under her fingernails, entered her nostrils with each breath. Her heart beat faster and she tried to slow it...to keep from breaking into an all out panic attack. Her fear that she might trigger another toxin episode only fueled the pounding in her chest. Tickling sensations ran through her legs and hands...down the back of her neck, in her ears...as if a thousand tiny insects...maggots...were crawling across her flesh, getting ready for the moment they could begin their work on her, scratching and nibbling. She forced herself to keep still...to keep from shuddering. Her right hand slowly crept up to her neck, trying to brush away the horrors she imagined were there. She froze when she heard them. The loud thuds of heavy footfalls running through the house. Then there were voices. They had discovered the water in the bedroom...they knew that she had been there. Tables were being thrown over...Scully could picture the destructive scene being enacted inside. A few minutes later, two men emerged through the back door and stood on the steps. "Well, at least we know our man was right. She is still here. And she can't have been gone very long. She's probably somewhere between here and the mine, trying to hide in the woods." The second man nodded. "It's just a matter of time. We know where she's headed. We'll fan out and push her towards the others at the mine...flush her out." "The others will be done in a second...let's just get this thing over with. I hate assignments like this." "Yeah. But, at least when we're done, this operation will be over. All we have to do is locate this woman and send her off to join her defunct partner in the afterlife. Then, we'll be good to go and can get home and have a nice, cold brew." "I hear ya'....I'll go round up the others." The two men moved back inside. Scully couldn't move. She had heard every word of their conversation. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as possible. Could she have misunderstood what they said about Mulder? No. They had made it quite clear that he was dead. She rested her forehead on the backpack in defeat. ************************** Pierre, South Dakota St. Mary's Hospital Emergency Department 0430 hours The staff moved quickly and efficiently around the injured FBI agent. Each pair of hands knew its job. Mulder's clothes were cut away and peeled back. A nurse stood by with the crash cart, just in case. She watched and waited. Her eyes were distracted as the pocket of his now well-ventilated trousers fell over the edge of the table. Something shiny and gold fell to the floor amidst the feet of the team that labored to stabilize the agent. She leaned forward to see what the object was. She was amazed to see that it was a cross. She had never thought federal agents were religious. The flurry of activity shifted to the other side of the bed for a moment and she took the opportunity to retrieve the small necklace. She examined it with interest. It looked like a woman's necklace. She surmised that it must be very important to the man laying on the table. She spotted the man's wallet on the tray under the table. She took the cross and tucked it carefully inside the wallet. Then she said a silent prayer for the agent. ********************* The woman stood outside the emergency department, her white coat neatly buttoned. Somehow, she had known that she would be the one to have to clean up the mess left by her now deceased colleague. Their boss was a wise man to have sent her as back up. She slid her hand into her pocket and felt the syringe once more. It would solve everything...and would probably work better than the original plan...drawing less attention. She tossed the hair back from her face and moved inside. ************************** Caveton Scully sat beneath a tree, trying to catch her breath. Her head ached and it was difficult to think. She had been running through the woods for two days now. She had stayed in the grave for an hour after her pursuers left. Then, when she knew she couldn't bear to be there any longer, she had jumped out and run. She ran away from the mine...toward Chantal. She ran despite the fact that every part of her body rebelled. Her limbs were heavy and hard to control. She didn't stop until she was well outside of Caveton. Then, she had collapsed to her knees and succumbed to the sensations on her skin. She swept her hands at her neck and face, trying to brush away all of the dirt...the symptoms of death and decay...that had covered her. Finally, exhaustion had overtaken her and she rolled on to the ground. Her heartbeat gradually slowed. The Percodan she had taken over an hour before was beginning to kick in, she realized. Her thoughts were murky. And they were dark. If Mulder was dead...then what was the point of her running? She should just give up. There would be no miracle cure waiting for her. Then, she had thought of the graves...and she thought of her mother...and of Mulder and Samantha. There was no way she could do that to her mother. Margaret Scully shouldn't have to spend the rest of her life not knowing what happened to her daughter. She at least should have a body to bury. Scully couldn't bear the thought of her mother holding that same pain that had driven Mulder for so many years. The pain of never knowing. She had gotten up and continued further into the woods. Now, she sat and contemplated her choices as best she could. She could not go back to the mine. She would never get within a mile of it. They would capture her and kill her. She was too weak to put up any fight, gun or no gun. There seemed to be only one other option. One that deviated enough from the plan that, even if everything had still been on schedule and Mulder were still alive, could cause enough of a delay to kill her. She shook her head. What did a delay matter now? At least she would be back where she belonged. But, she still had three...or was it four...days to go. It was hard to remember how long she had been running. Did it even matter now? For now, she simply let her head fall back against the tree and let sleep wash over her. ************************* CHAPTER SIXTEEN Southwest South Dakota 0530 hours When one is in law enforcement, there are many words and phrases that you hate to hear. The mention of "a suspicious odor," "retrieving a floater," going to the scene of "a jumper," or being called to the death scene of a child are but a few of the "items" on the list that make you shudder. There are also words that you hate to say, either out of superstition or some other equally compelling, if not quite rational, force. Phrases like "all is quiet" are abbreviated to hushed references involving the code, "q- word," out of fear that by uttering the magic two syllables, all hell will break loose. And words like "interrogation" are nice-ified to perky, friendly terms like "interview" lest you appear to be a brutal, suspect beating thug. But, above all other phrases, one stands alone. One that you never want to hear and that you certainly never want to say. These two words tighten throats, cause stomachs to drop and reduce vision to a constricted tunnel of focus. These two short words, "officer down." In a single moment, all time stops...before the hands of the clock begin to race forward, ever quickening in their pace. It doesn't matter if you like or even know the officer or agent who has fallen. A tidal wave of horror, desperation, anger, fear, disgust and even relief surges over you in that one instant...each emotion fights against you as you struggle for control and scream to the scene at almost inhuman speeds. Any personal differences there may have been are thrust aside...you know that it could have been you. It is the closest that a toughened professional in law enforcement ever comes to panic. In the short span of less than twenty-four hours, Assistant Director Walter Skinner had heard this phrase twice and had used it himself once. And, despite his years of service in the Marines, and, in spite of its seeming frequent use around two of his agents, he had never become inured to the physical effects of those two small words. Skinner sat impatiently in the back of the helicopter as it sped across the blackened hills below. He had already removed the tie that had been strangling his breath. He stared out at the darkness above and below. There were few lights on the ground, testifying to the lack of civilization around this rough terrain. He wrapped his arms across his chest, clenching and unclenching his hands. His right hand brushed the hard object in his vest pocket, Mulder's cellular phone. Skinner had taken it and the wounded agent's service weapon. He hoped that he would be returning the items to their rightful owner soon. Just a few more minutes and they would be back at the mine...but, would Scully be there? And, if she was, would she still be alive? What had she and Mulder stumbled onto? And, what if she wasn't there? What would he tell Mulder? He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He had no answers. Only questions....and an overwhelming sense that he had run out of time. "Sir?" Skinner's eyes flew open as the pilot shouted to him over the headset. "What is it?" "We're almost there...but I think you better take a look for yourself..." Skinner pressed his face against the glass and peered below. There were lights...two helicopters...a flurry of activity on the ground below. His eyes widened. No one was supposed to be there. All rescue personnel had been removed shortly after he and Mulder left the scene. "What do you want me to do, sir?" Skinner stared blankly at the pilot for a moment. He carefully improvised a new plan. "Go lights out...and take us down where they won't see us..." "Yes, sir." Skinner sat back and prepared to land...hoping the noise on the ground had covered their approach. *************************** Outside of Chantal The past, the present and the future intermingled before her. She was no longer sure of the date...of time in general. Every so often, a lucid thought would dance through her head, reminding her of reality. Then, it would thoughtlessly step away...just beyond her grasp. Vaguely, Scully realized that her body was shutting down. But, why it was happening? She knew it must have something to do with the strange device in her pocket...the one that dug into her hip when she rolled the wrong way. *Mulder will know what is going on...* she thought. Then, as his name formed on her lips, she remembered. Mulder was dead. And the rest of her predicament arose from the fog and came into clear view. Scully opened her eyes and took stock of her surroundings. All too suddenly she was became aware of the cold dampness of the earth beneath her. It had already crept into her legs and back. She was laying on the side of a wooded hill, beside a large tree. Now she remembered that she had stopped here sometime...*yesterday?*...when she felt the toxin preparing for another attack on her weakened body. She turned her head and looked down the hill. The sun had already started its climb into the sky to begin another day of its work. The empty carcass of a town, known in another place as Chantal, sat below her. She knew that she needed to get herself moving toward the town... that her time was merely borrowed now. Scully rolled to the right and propped herself up on one elbow. The muscles in her back and stomach violently protested, but she insisted on having her way. Slowly, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Then, her body took some revenge. The nausea she had held at bay took over and, in a spasm of coughing, she emptied out the nearly nonexistent contents of her stomach. As the fit subsided, Scully weakly wiped her hand across her mouth and fell back against the trunk of the tree behind her. When she opened her eyes, she had a clear view of Chantal. She had no idea how she was ever going to make it down the hill. Scully mentally shook herself. Her thoughts kept returning to Mulder and her mother. She had to get back to her mother...and, if she could hang on long enough, she would find out who killed her best friend. She sought to control her racing heart and nausea by taking several deep breaths. Her eyes became steeled as she remembered every minute of her training...the days and weeks of physical agony as she and her instructors pushed her body and mind to their limits. Running for miles on legs that wanted to quit, lungs searing in the cold air of the Quantico woods...bruises and bumps from being paired with a behemoth of an agent in defensive tactics... standing in a pit filled with tear gas with no mask, waiting to be told she could walk out of the choking cloud that smelled like cherry-flavored fluoride from the dentist's office...the recounting of countless stories of officers who had been shot and still fought their assailants...the training videotape of the infamous FBI shootout in Florida where one agent, though shot several times, managed to operate his shotgun one-handed and bring down the two suspects who had already killed his friends and co-workers...all of the drilling that taught her to survive by rote. The Academy spent many hours pounding it into new agents' heads. This was the rote that had kept her alive through many mutant and not-so-mutant encounters over the past three years...and it was the same mantra that forced her back to work after her mysterious abduction and close encounter with death two years earlier. She was well aware that many other agents would have retired after that...but Scully had been determined. And, of course, Mulder had been there to help her through it. With a guttural cry of mixed pain and anger, Scully grabbed onto a low tree branch and pulled herself up to stand. Ignoring the spots before her eyes as the blood rushed from her head, she staggered down the hill. *********************** St. Mary's Hospital Pierre, South Dakota Special Agent Mike Lawrence sat outside the intensive care private room and sleepily watched the flurry of activity around him. It was shift change for the nursing staff. Monitors and charts were being reviewed and men and women in white were zipping back and forth, up and down the hall around him. He looked over his shoulder through the window behind him and stared at the agent who lay on the bed inside the technology-filled room. He shook his head. He had no idea what had happened to the poor guy, but he looked pretty awful. One of the nurses said that it would probably be touch and go for another twenty-four hours or so...but, if the agent survived that long, he would probably pull through. He sighed and said a quick prayer of thanks that he wasn't the one laying in the ICU. He turned his attention back to the issue of Sports Illustrated that one of the nurses had so kindly offered him. Never mind that fact that it was nearly August and that the issue was last year's fall football preview. It would still be fun to read all of the "experts'" predictions and see how wrong all of them had turned out to be. He was deeply engrossed in an article describing how the Packers would not have a .500 season when the nurse brushed by him and opened the door to Mulder's room. He looked up briefly, saw her i.d., nodded to her, and went back to his amusing reading. The "nurse" quickly crossed the distance to the iv line that dripped into Mulder's arm. She withdrew the needle and syringe from her pocket and pulled the cap off of the sharp instrument. She carefully pushed the plunger up, squirting a tiny amount of the "medicine" into the air. The liquid arced lazily and fell onto the bed sheet. She leaned forward and smiled down on Mulder. "We wouldn't want an air bubble, now, would we?" She inserted the needle in its target and then, the liquid dispensed, returned the cap to its proper place and slid the syringe back into her pocket. Agent Lawrence nodded once again as she left and then returned to his magazine. *************************** Chantal Scully leaned against the side of the house where Ryder had stayed. The last hundred yards had been even more difficult than the descent from the hillside. Her lungs seemed incapable of retaining or processing air. She pushed back the sweat soaked hair that had fallen over her face. The shed was just a few more yards ahead. She reached back and felt for the device in her back pocket. She knew she would panic if it wasn't still there. She slumped in relief as she felt it under her shaking fingers. There was just one more thing she had to do. She knew that this deviation from the original plan that had her arriving in Caveton would probably mean her death...but, she could still try and stack the deck a little more in her favor. She grabbed a pen from her coat pocket and pulled the cap from it with her teeth. With a shaky hand, she began to write on her left arm. A few moments later, she stared at her penmanship. It wasn't the best, but it would do. She almost laughed to herself as she realized that she was finally beginning to write like a real doctor. She dropped the pen on the ground, not wanting to waste the energy of putting it back in her pocket. After all, she wouldn't be needing it again. Grabbing the device from her pocket, she staggered forward to the shed. ***************************** CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Outskirts of Caveton, South Dakota 0550 hours Walter Skinner moved swiftly across the thickly wooded hillside, ducking around low-hanging branches, dodging the patches of daylight that attempted to spotlight him as the sun began to rise. His heart heaved heavily in his chest. The enemy was here...almost close enough to touch. He could feel their dark presence, even though he could not yet see them. Images began to flash before his eyes, playing back memories in a distorted slow-motion. They were memories that he had long ago pushed and packed down into the battered old trunk of his past. Memories of an eighteen year-old out on recon in unknown territory, fighting against another unseen enemy. He paused against the trunk of a large tree, leaning on the moss covered bark as he drew his coat sleeve across his sweat covered face. He was quickly realizing that this foray was hopeless. From what he had seen from the air and on this scouting mission, he was completely outnumbered and thoroughly outgunned. There was no way he would be able to reach the mine. He would have to go back and get reinforcements...and pray that they would reach him in time to get to Scully. He turned to go back and came face to face with the business end of a very ready-to-fire M-16. His eyes grew wide and then narrowed as he assessed the man training the weapon between his eyes. The man was dressed in full commando gear...all black, including the hood. Skinner quickly scanned the area with his peripheral vision. There was no one else in sight. The commando never uttered a word, he simply motioned for Skinner to stand upright and raise his hands. Skinner nodded slowly and began to comply. Then, with a swift windmill-like motion, he whipped his left arm over the rifle, trapping the barrel below his armpit. He followed through with his body's momentum and jabbed forward with the heel of his right hand, smashing into the base of the commando's nose. The crunch of breaking bone filled his ears as one broken shard was driven back into the man's skull. His head lolled back as his knees buckled. Skinner relinquished his armlock on the rifle and let the dead man quietly fall to the ground. He grabbed the M-16 and, after scanning the area once more, ran back toward the helicopter. ************************ St. Mary's Hospital Pierre, South Dakota It began as a small tremor of motion in one hand. His eyes flew open, wide with terror. Within moments, the adrenalin and fear had gripped Mulder's entire body. He thrashed violently against the bed rails, his back arching, pounding his head into the pillow. Then, the screaming began. He reached out to destroy the creatures that filled the air before him...the hideous insects that were oozing down the walls, snipping at him with their sharp pincers. Agent Lawrence threw down his out-of-date magazine and rushed into the room, yelling for help as he tried to hold Mulder down. Nurses and orderlies descended upon the room en masse as Mulder's body continued it's battle. Mulder's screams became intelligible. "Get away from the lights!....No, no, no....." A jumble of surreal moments appeared at his fingertips...Scully, buried underneath rubble...a bright light....loud noises...an explosion...and then, his body felt paralyzed...the "Marfan"-like figures, whose features continued to stretch before him...they held him down as others stood over Scully...she wasn't moving...he strained against the dead weight of his limbs... "SCULLY!!!" His scream died out as the doctor finished administering the sedative in his hip. Agent Lawrence stepped back from the bed, trying to catch his breath. "What the hell was that all about?" he exclaimed. The others in the room could only shake their heads. *************************** Chantal, South Dakota Population: 250 Jason Carney had always enjoyed the early morning. Throughout his eight years of life, he had always been an early riser. In fact, he was usually up and moving before his parents...a fact that had often alarmed them when he was still a toddler. But, now, they did not seem to mind as much. Especially since it was summer. So, every morning, at the crack of dawn, he was up and dressed, and playing in the back of the house. He loved to watch the sun rise over the fields, waking up the butterflies and flying bugs. In the still, damp air, he would listen for their chirps and the whirr of their wings. If he was very lucky, he would even be able to catch a few of them and put them in his Mason-jarred collection. Then, his "experiments" could begin. He already had quite a nice collection of bug wings. On this morning, Jason stared out over the field. The sun was particularly bright today...weird, since he thought he had heard thunder earlier...but, now it seemed that it would be a good "bug" day. Jason knew he would need several specimen jars to complete his morning ritual. He turned and ran toward the old shed beside the house. As he turned the last corner, Jason's morning ritual came to an abrupt halt. The door to the shed was already open...and a woman was laying on the ground in the doorway. He stared at her red hair as he stood frozen, dumbstruck. She wasn't moving. His eyes grew wide. Was this what a dead person looked like? He'd never seen one before...well, only on television. His parents hadn't let him see his grandmother after she died. Suddenly, his throat felt tight. He gulped hard and loud. His very convincing imitation of a mannequin was broken when a horsefly buzzed in front of his nose. Jason wiped absentmindedly at the annoyance. It was just enough to restart the engines in his brain. He ran toward the house and screamed. "DAD!" Rod and Cindy Carney were standing by the kitchen window when they heard their son scream. Rod was bounding out of the door within seconds, pulling the straps to his overalls over his t-shirt covered shoulders as he jumped down the back steps. He nearly collided with his wide-eyed son. Unable to speak coherently, Jason grabbed his father's hand and dragged him toward the shed. Rod stopped short when he saw the woman crumpled on the ground before him. He nervously wiped his hands on the front of his pant legs as he tried to think of what to do. "Is she dead, Dad?" Rod looked down at Jason. "I don't know..." He knelt down beside the woman and touched her face. Her skin was cold and clammy...but still pliant with life. He held his hand over her nose and mouth. There seemed to be a faint rush of breath. Gathering his courage about him, he reached for her hand to check for a pulse. He wasn't sure if he was doing it right...the pulse seemed to be there, but it was very faint. He never noticed the writing until Jason spoke up. "What's that on her arm, Dad?" Rod squinted and pushed the sleeve up on the woman's arm. The writing was hard to make out. "F.B.I. Agent Dana Scully. Call (202)555-7030/Agent Mulder. Will help." Rod repeated the numbers quietly to himself, trying to memorize them. He jumped up to run back to the house, calling back to Jason. "Stay with her, Jas. I'll be right back...I'm calling for help." Jason stooped down beside the FBI woman. Then he noticed something new. A small device lay beside her right hand. It looked like some kind of remote control...for a t.v., or maybe a video game. He picked it up carefully and stared at it, wondering if it was some secret FBI weapon or something. He looked up toward the house. His father hadn't come back out yet. His curiosity overcame any guilt. He stuffed the device in his back pocket. He didn't think the lady would miss it. ********************** Outside Caveton Skinner had just reached his helicopter and was about to call for backup when a ringing from his coat pocket interrupted him. It took him several seconds to realize that it was Mulder's cellular phone that was ringing. He pulled it out quickly and flipped it open to answer it. "Hello?" He was hesitant to say anything at first. No one knew that he had Mulder's phone...and he couldn't imagine who would be trying to reach Mulder now. The voice on the other end sounded just as unsure. "Hello?...Um, I'm trying to reach FBI Agent Mulder. Can I speak to him?" "Who is this?" Skinner carefully queried. "Um...My name is Carney...Rod Carney. There's this woman here..." "A woman?" Skinner almost yelled. "She's sick or something...she had a note that said her name was Dana...something...." "Scully? Dana Scully?" "Yeah, that's it. The note said to call Agent Mulder at this number and that he would help...." "Where are you?" Carney suddenly became suspicious. "Wait a minute...who are you?" "I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the F.B.I...Scully is one of my agents. Where are you?" "Where's Agent Mulder?" "He's been injured...he's in the hospital. I've been trying to find Agent Scully...please, tell me where she is." Carney's tone lightened. There was something about this man Skinner's voice that made him want to trust him. "We're on a farm in Chantal, South Dakota...can you send someone out here? This lady is really a mess...I wasn't sure she was alive." Skinner's mind went into overdrive as he tried to work out a plan. "Listen, Mr. Carney. I'm getting into my helicopter now...we can be there in ten minutes or less...don't call anyone else. Just try and take care of her until we get there..." "Okay, Mr. Skinner...but, you better make it less than ten...she doesn't look too good. Do you know what's wrong with her?" "I think she's been poisoned...but we may have the antidote...Now, where is your farm? Can you mark a landing site for us?" "We're on the southeast side of town...the house is a one-story, white building with a shed in back. I can start a fire in an old oil drum in the field...would that be good?" "That's fine...we're on the way....just tell Agent Scully to hang on." "We'll take care of her, sir." Skinner jumped into the helicopter and the rotors whined into action. ******************** Carney Farm Chantal, SD 0700 hours Skinner jumped from the helicopter the instant it hit the ground, his feet carrying him swiftly toward the large figure of Rod Carney. He had just gotten off the phone with Dr. Doyle at the Mayo Clinic and found out that Agent Bocks was already en route to the hospital in Pierre with a possible antidote. Doyle could only add that he hoped the serum worked...there just wasn't enough time to fine tune the mix...he had tried to shoot for a general panacea...one that would be enough to save Agent Scully's life. Skinner just hoped that Scully would survive long enough for them to try the stuff. He straightened his body as he cleared the reach of the rotor wash and picked up his pace. Just as Skinner was about to reach the farmer, he froze. Carney had raised a shotgun and was now pointing it directly at his chest. "Stop right there! I think I better see some identification..." Skinner nodded slowly. He slowly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his badge case. "I'm Walter Skinner...the one who talked to you on the phone." Carney edged forward and stared at the badge and i.d. card. Once he was satisfied about Skinner's true identity, he relaxed and lowered the gun. "Sorry about that, Mr. Skinner. But, after our conversation, it just seemed to me that whoever did this to Agent Scully might want to come over here and finish the job....and I've got a family to be concerned about." Skinner nodded his approval. "I understand...you were taking reasonable precautions...and I appreciate what you've done for Agent Scully...now, can you take me to her?" Carney motioned for Skinner to follow him into the small house, trying to explain all he knew as they moved up the back steps. "My son found her inside the shed...I moved her into the house right after I spoke with you. My wife has been tending to her...but she's not looking too good." Skinner followed Carney into the living room. Scully lay on the sofa. Mrs. Carney was seated in an old Duncan Phyfe style chair beside her. She held a bowl of water in her lap as she carefully dabbed at Scully's face with a cool washcloth. It took a moment for Skinner to process Scully's appearance. He had become slightly inured to seeing both Mulder and Scully in injured states, but, this time was different. Scully was not only pale and unconscious...this time, something else was missing. Maybe it was in her aura..or whatever Mulder might call it...whatever it was, Skinner could sense it, actually feel it. All of her usual determination and fight were gone...something or someone had simply bled all of it out of her. And it was that, more than anything else, that actually scared him. He shook his head and jumped into action. Moving over to the sofa, he reached down and scooped Scully up into his arms. Carney led the way out the back door, running beside Skinner to the helicopter. As he helped Skinner place Scully in the helicopter, he noticed the look in Skinner's eyes. He found himself more than a little surprised by the gentleness and concern he saw there. As Skinner started to climb into the craft, Carney placed his hand on the determined man's arm. "Just call it a hunch...but I think she's gonna be okay." Skinner turned and stared at the farmer. Then, with a brusque nod of thanks, he climbed in and shut the door. Carney ran back as the helicopter lifted up from the ground and sped across the field toward Pierre. ******************************* CHAPTER EIGHTEEN St. Mary's Hospital Pierre, South Dakota July 27, 1996 0745 hours The helicopter had barely landed on the hard concrete of the hospital's helipad when the emergency medical team swarmed from the doorway, running to their newest challenge. Walter Skinner heaved the sliding door of the chopper open and jumped down to the ground as the pilot began shutting down the engine. Skinner had just started to unfasten the straps around Scully's unconscious form when a doctor's strong hands pulled him back and out of the way. Skinner had to fight his instincts to allow the team to take over. While two pairs of hands worked at the straps, another set moved over Scully's body, while voices called out vital signs. Within seconds, they had pulled her from the helicopter and had her on a gurney. The Assistant Director stood by helplessly as they rushed toward the hospital entrance, one doctor straddling Scully's body, preparing to perform CPR. Skinner remembered a time in the not too distant past when he had reversed roles with Scully. And he wished that he could be there for her...holding her hand...giving her the same reassurance that she had given him as they moved him toward surgery. His frustrating thoughts were interrupted when he saw Agent Bocks running toward him. "Sir!" Bocks exclaimed breathlessly as he reached Skinner's side. "How's she doing?" Skinner was unused to having someone else share his concern for his two investigators of the "beyond normal." But, it was clear from the expression on Bocks' face that he did care. "She's stubborn, Agent Bocks. She's hanging on." Skinner yelled above the whine of the dying engine of the helicopter. Bocks nodded grimly. Skinner gripped the agent's shoulder. "You did good work getting that serum here so fast." "I just hope it was soon enough...and that it works." It was Skinner's turn to nod. The engine behind him was now still, and the sudden lack of noise was unsettling. "How is Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked. Bocks frowned. "I just got here ten minutes ago, so I don't know all the details; but, apparently there have been some problems." "What kind of problems?" Skinner demanded. "The doctors aren't sure. But, it looks as though he was drugged. He's been having some sort of attacks... hallucinations. No one can make sense of it." Skinner did not like the sound of this news. He didn't like it one bit. He grabbed Bocks' arm and moved toward the entrance. "You get in there and stay with Agent Scully. I don't care where they take her...you stay in the room with her. I'm going to go find out what the hell is going on..." ************************ St. Mary's Hospital Room 309 1700 hours Skinner sat, idly thumbing the magazine on the table beside him. The magazine had been in much better condition before Skinner began his vigil beside Mulder eight hours earlier. He had only left the room briefly on a few occasions to check with Bocks on Scully's condition. And each time he had stepped out, he made sure that a security guard stood by the door, barring passage to everyone...including doctors until he returned. It had not won him many friends on the hospital staff. So far, Scully was holding her own...which meant that she was still just only this side of death. The serum appeared to have at least halted the progress of the toxin. Now, the question was whether or not she could recover from the damage that had already been done. Bocks had promised Skinner that he would contact him the minute there was any change in her condition. Skinner stared over at the ashen face of Scully's partner-in-chaos. It had become fairly obvious that somehow, *they* had gotten to him and given him some kind of hallucinogenic drug. And it more than disturbed him that, whoever had done it, they didn't care if their actions were discovered. And, now, they had to wait to find out what the repercussions of the drug would be. During the few times that Mulder had roused from his sedated slumber, he was, for the most part, incoherent. He mumbled several times about a bright light...and about strange looking creatures with long arms. But, most of his speech centered on Scully. Because of these episodes, Skinner did not hold out too much hope of a meaningful conversation when Mulder once again began to awaken. But, he sat up, on alert, when Mulder turned his head and stared at him with lucid eyes. Then, Mulder spoke. "Sir, you look terrible." Mulder croaked. Skinner stretched his neck as he fixed his stare on the coherent agent. Leave it to Mulder to use his waking words to be insubordinate. "Mulder, I'd say we've both seen better weeks." Mulder looked around the room expectantly. Skinner was surprised when he realized what...or, rather who, the agent was looking for. Scully. "Agent Mulder, now that we are alone, perhaps you would finally fill me in on what happened to you and Agent Scully." Skinner asserted. It was not a question. Mulder's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Where is Scully?" "Scully is upstairs." Skinner's voice softened. "She's holding her own." Mulder tried to sit up. "What do you mean she's holding her own? What happened to her?" Now, Skinner was confused. "I was waiting for you to tell me that, Agent Mulder." Mulder fell back against his pillows and stared at the ceiling, hoping that his memory was up there and would descend back into his brain. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists, as he tried to find a spark of an answer. Skinner leaned forward, wanting to help him. "What *do* you remember?" Mulder started slowly. "I remember driving on a road with Scully...she was driving. It was daytime. I remember...something...a bright light...and a loud noise. Damnit! Everything else is a mess...I can't describe it...it's all scrambled...." Skinner frowned. "Maybe if I fill in what little I know..." Mulder nodded hopefully. "You and Agent Scully were assigned to a case here in South Dakota. A scientist and his assistant had disappeared while conducting research in a town called Caveton. You went to the mine where they disappeared. The park ranger who waited outside said that a few minutes after the two of you went in, there was a bright light and a roaring noise...and then the mine collapsed, trapping you inside. We had been digging for almost ten hours when, suddenly, you came rushing out of the mine alone. Another explosion sealed the mine. "At the time, you told me that Agent Scully was inside the mine...dead." "But, you said that she was here!" Mulder interrupted, trying not to panic. "She is. Relax. Let me continue.... You quietly told me that we had to fly to our regional lab...which we did. You showed me a vial of blood...blood you said was Scully's. You said that Scully had been poisoned and that we had to have the blood analyzed to find an antidote. I asked you where she was...we could go get her...you said that she would come to us in five hours and that we had to be ready for her. "A man came in and killed the lab tech...and shot you. But, we were still able to find a serum for Scully. I went to Caveton to find her, but got a phone call from a man in Chantal who said that Scully was at his home there. I flew out and picked her up and brought her back here." Mulder fingered the wound in his side...his memory was still evading him, but, thick images were teasing him. He could vaguely recall his despair as he saw Scully's blood on the floor...and he could almost smell some sort of acid. None of it made sense to him. And the images he did have seemed crazy...crazy enough that he knew he could not share them with Skinner. The Bureau would have him committed. "Why can't I remember anything?" Mulder pleaded. Skinner bowed his head. "We're not sure...but we think someone was able to get into your room and administer some kind of drug...possibly an hallucinogen. We're still running tests on your blood. So far, we haven't been able to identify the agent. But, for the past twelve hours, you have been incoherent...almost violent." ********************** 1900 hours Mulder closed in eyes in frustration. He just couldn't center his thoughts. And he knew that what little he had tried to recite from his recent memory made absolutely no sense. In fact, it made him look more than a little off his rocker. His frustration was fueled by the anger of knowing that someone had done this to him on purpose. They wanted to make him look foolish...to make anything he might recall suspect. He even doubted himself. The truth was, he had no idea what had happened over the past several days...or was it months? It sure felt that way. He could remember driving on a road somewhere with Scully...was it South Dakota? Or was it Maryland? Skinner had filled in some of the details about the case they had been on...but, none of it seemed familiar. The only thing that felt right were the parts concerning Scully. They rang some bells. But, still, none of the pieces fit. And, he doubted they ever would. He could not imagine being able to reconcile all of the wild images that cluttered his head...images of long-armed creatures, of running through a forest, explosions...and, most of all, a hazy remembrance of kissing Scully. There was no way that was real. He knew he wouldn't survive it. She would kill him. He could only hope that Scully would be able to fill all of the gaps and clear up all of his confusion. He clenched his fists, wishing that he could go to her and help pull her through whatever she was fighting on the floor above. After his talk with Skinner, he had asked him to go and stay with Scully...and to bring him any news on her condition. Actually, he had pleaded with Skinner to go. He couldn't escape the feeling that she was in danger...and Skinner was the only one he trusted at the moment to keep an alert watch. Skinner had argued the point, and reminded Mulder that Bocks was still hovering over Scully. But, Mulder had pointed out that he probably was no longer a threat because of the erasure of his memory. And, he believed he was safe because "whoever" was behind this already had their chance to kill him...but had opted for the drugs instead. Skinner had no choice but to reluctantly agree with Mulder's logic and left to watch over Scully. A few minutes later, Agent Bocks had poked his head in the door to let Mulder know that he was just outside...on guard duty. Bocks had only been able to give him generic details of Scully's condition. That she was still unconscious and on dialysis...her pulse was getting stronger. But, she still was not out of the woods. Mulder lay in his bed, wishing that the wound in his side gave him more mobility...enough to replace Skinner as Scully's personal bodyguard. But, for now, all he could do was close his eyes and concentrate on her....hoping that somehow she could hear him...know he was there. He finally fell asleep four hours later. But, his dreams were filled with terrifying images. *************************** St. Mary's Hospital Room 402 July 28, 1996 0500 hours Skinner was roused from his state of half-slumber by the sudden shift in the air current of the room. The door had been opened. He blinked his eyes twice until they came back into a useful focus. A nurse stood beside Scully's bed. The woman was carefully checking the monitors. Skinner watched her as she moved around the bed to the drip line that hung over Scully's inert body. The nurse was silent as she carried out her duties. He looked at her in a seemingly casual manner, however, his eyes were doing what they always did...what they were trained to do. Her mousy brown hair was cut short, her figure nondescript...not thin, not plump...somewhere in between. She wore no jewelry...no wedding rings. Her face was plain, with little make-up. Then, his gut drew him to her eyes. They were different. An ice blue...cold and penetrating. Not what he expected from a critical care nurse. Skinner shuddered slightly. He was tired and his mind was stretching too far. Hell, he always paid too much attention to people. He even gave his third-degree stare to convenience store clerks...convinced that they were homicidal mass murderers just waiting to pounce on the next person who asked for a chili dog with extra cheese. He let his eyes drop to the floor and began to close them once again as the nurse pulled out a syringe and bottle as she prepared to administer more medication into Scully's i.v. line. A moment later, the nurse had finished her task and headed back out the door without a word. Skinner shifted in his padded chair that no longer felt very padded. He could not find a comfortable position. Then, he realized that it wasn't a physical discomfort that was bothering him. It was something else. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out what was scratching at his brain, trying to get in. An image of black shoes flashed before his eyes. Suddenly, he jumped from his chair and ran over to the i.v. line. The fluid was slowly falling, drip by drip, entering Scully's body. He had no time to be gentle. He grabbed the line where it entered her arm and pulled it free. Blood immediately began to gush from the unconscious agent's arm. He grabbed the only thing he could, the bed sheet, and pressed it onto the site. The i.v. line now dripped it's contents onto the floor, the steady beat as it hit the floor filling his ears. Realizing that he was losing precious time, he reluctantly let go of Scully's arm and ran out the door into the hallway. He craned his neck as he quickly glanced up and down the corridor, trying to spot a glimpse of the nurse who had just left. There was no sign of her. He dashed down to the nurses' station and grabbed hold of the first nurse he found. She jumped back in surprise. "Where is the nurse that was just in Agent Scully's room?" She looked at him warily as he shouted at her. The head nurse turned the corner at that moment and took in the scene. She knew who Skinner was and was very aware of his pull with the government. "Is there a problem here, Mr. Skinner?" She asked. Skinner spun around to her, realizing that he had just found his best source of information. "Where is the nurse that was just in Agent Scully's room?" he demanded again. "I'm in charge of Agent Scully's care for this shift...she's not due for any medication for another fifteen minutes." "Look..." Skinner looked at her name tag, "Ms. Caulfield. A nurse was just in the room giving Agent Scully an injection..." Caulfield creased her brow at his words. She walked over to the desk and picked up Scully's chart. She quickly scanned the papers. "No one should have been giving her anything yet. And I didn't assign anyone to go in and check on her. As I said, she is my patient." Skinner ran both of his hands over his smooth head in frustration...searching for the right words. He lowered his voice. "Well, could you please go in and check on her...there is a problem with her i.v. line... it came out and her arm is bleeding...but don't put that line back into her!" Caulfield ran down the hall and into Scully's room. Skinner turned back to the young nurse who still cowered next to him. He took a deep breath and stared down at her name tag. "Ms. Kaplan...I need you to answer some questions..." The woman nodded. "What other nurses are working this floor?" "There's six of us..." "I'm looking for a woman...short, light brown hair...about forty years old, medium build..." Kaplan just shook her head. "There's no one like that that works here...just a bunch of blondes and brunettes...in fact, see for yourself...they're all at the end of the hall watching us." Skinner turned and saw the group, who had apparently gathered to see what the commotion was. None of them looked remotely like the woman who had been in Scully's room. He sighed. He was sick and tired of dead ends. And he knew that this was exactly what he was facing...no matter how much investigating he did. He could go through the motions with hospital security, but it would be fruitless...and, as he quickly realized, possibly very dangerous for his two recuperating agents. No, he would have to keep this incident quiet. He grimaced slightly as he realized that he might have already made too much of a scene. He would have to do some rapid damage control. And he had better check up on Mulder. But, thank God he had noticed that woman's shoes...he'd never met a nurse who made her rounds wearing pumps. He turned back and headed toward Scully's room. ************************* CHAPTER NINETEEN 0510 hours Mulder had become restless once again. After suffering through four hours of sleep filled with incomprehensible images, he had given up and opted for the infomercials on the television. Bocks had come in around 4:30 to join him. Now, Mulder was fed up with Ron Popeil and his "Hair In A Can." Male pattern baldness was not a topic he felt he needed to address...*although*, he thought as he looked back at the screen, perhaps he should write the number down for A.D. Skinner. Fortunately, Mulder's instinct for self-preservation kicked in and overcame his wayward thought. Unwilling to let its owner become sidetracked, Mulder's mind returned to the problem that had been plaguing him all night. What had happened to him and Scully? There had to be some sort of evidence...a clue for him to find. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. He started to sit up and shout for Bocks' attention, but stopped short as the wound in his side reminded him of why he was lying down. In the end, it was Mulder's grunt of pain that brought Bocks over to him. "Geez, Mulder! What are you trying to do to yourself? You gotta stay put." Mulder looked up, more than slightly annoyed. Moe Bocks had an amazing ability to state the obvious. Before he said something smart, however, he took in the agent's rough appearance. Bocks had been a real godsend this night...someone Skinner could rely on...almost trust. His face softened. "I need to see my clothes...do you know where they are?" Mulder asked. "Sure, Mulder. They're over here in the closet...although, they've been cut up quite a bit." Bocks opened the closet and pulled the items out. Just as Bocks had said, the pants and shirt had been cut apart. He handed them to Mulder and Mulder tried to rummage through what was left of the pockets. "Where's my wallet?" Bocks moved over to the bedside dresser and pulled out a large envelope. "Here ya' go...I hope you remember how much money you had...it looks as though your credit cards are still there..." Mulder opened the wallet and began to go through its contents. He stopped and stared as he looked into the bill compartment. With shaking fingers, he pulled out the small golden cross. "Scully...." he murmured. Then, it dawned on him. The cross had triggered a memory...one that he knew to be true. There had been a note...Scully had given him a note! But, where was it? Mulder was about to question Bocks when the door burst open and Skinner stepped into the room. With a quick motion of his hand, he signaled for Bocks to follow him out into the hallway. Mulder gingerly nudged himself up in his bed, ears straining for even a few words of their conversation. He waited impatiently for them to return...he needed to ask Skinner about the note. A few moments later, Skinner entered the room. Bocks followed behind him, pushing an empty gurney. Mulder was so intent on his question for Skinner that he did not notice the grim look on the A.D.'s face...and he did not notice the gurney. "Sir, I remember a note....I think it has the answers...if you can help me find that note..." Mulder began. Skinner stopped short. His mind was so busy putting his plan into action that Mulder's question took him completely off guard. *A note?* he thought. Then, he remembered the burned remnants in the trash can in the Bureau locker room. Was that the note Mulder was asking about? Could it hold the answers? As Skinner paused to consider his question, Mulder finally noticed the gurney Bocks had wheeled in...then he saw the urgency on Skinner's face. And, he suddenly realized that Skinner should have been upstairs, watching over Scully. Had something happened to Scully? "What's going on? Where is Scully?" Mulder questioned. Skinner moved forward to Mulder's bedside and motioned for Bocks to move up on the other side. Mulder still stared at his boss, anxiously waiting for an answer. "There's no time now, Mulder. We've got to move you up to Scully's room for now...." "Is Scully okay?" "Bocks will explain everything to you when we get you upstairs....now help us out here. We've got to get you on this gurney," Skinner responded. "And you'll help me find the note?" Mulder persisted. Skinner stopped and looked down at the injured agent. "I'll see what I can do...but, right now, the most important thing is getting you moved." The men lifted the sheets beneath Mulder and slid him over onto the gurney. Within seconds, they were wheeling him out the door and down the hallway, the i.v. draped across Mulder's chest. ********************* F.B.I. Field Office 0600 hours Walter Skinner rushed down the stairs, forcing himself to refrain from breaking into a run. He was already the object of attention here...an Assistant Director from Washington in South Dakota with two injured agents. He didn't need to draw any more interest. For the past forty-five minutes he had been praying that the cleaning crew for the Bureau had not made their way down to the locker room...and that nothing had been thrown into the trash can that would further damage the already crispy note. As he entered the locker room, he was relieved to find that no one else was in the room. Apparently, he had managed to just beat everyone coming in for the day shift. He hurried over to the trash can and briefly closed his eyes in prayer as he bent over to look... and he opened his eyes. The note was still there...it was only covered by a wadded up paper towel. He released the breath he had been holding and glanced around the room. He had to find some sort of rigid container....he couldn't very well be seen walking around the building with a trash can...that would be a tad obvious. His well trained eyes quickly found a suitable carrier. He grabbed the flat Kleenex tissue box from the counter beside the sinks and ripped out the remaining tissues. He then peeled back the edges of the box. Using one of the discarded tissues, he gently picked up the burned note by one corner and placed it in the box. He was relieved that the charred paper was still relatively intact. There was still hope that he could find the answers. Skinner left the locker room and moved down the hallway to the janitor's closet. With any luck, he would find what he needed there....then, there would be no need for him to use the labs upstairs. And, he really did not want to let anyone else know about the note...it would be far too dangerous for everyone, especially Scully and Mulder. The bottle he sought was there. He grabbed it and headed for the stairs. ***************************** St. Mary's Hospital Room 402 0800 hours Mulder stared at the ceiling. He had already counted the number of tiles and had noted each of their imperfections and analyzed each stain pattern. Anything to avoid looking at the one thing in the room that was screaming for his attention. The one thing over which he had no control. Scully. Each time the nurse came into check on her, he had memorized each number she noted and had analyzed each of her expressions, hoping to discern the true condition of his partner. They had told him what they did and did not know...and it was all a bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo to him...he needed Scully to interpret it all for him. What he did know was that the doctors were not sure what she had been exposed to...and that the anti-toxin that they had given her seemed to be doing something to halt the progress of whatever was killing her. He finally gave in and looked at her. Her arms were now relaxed beside her body. The nurse had told him that Scully's muscles had become rigid...stone hard. Once they managed to get the serum into her vein (after breaking two needles) her body had loosened up enough for them to administer muscle relaxants. So, now he had to stand, or rather lay, by as he listened to the hum of the respirator that ensured that his partner kept breathing. The last doctor who visited had stated that they intended to remove the apparatus within the next few hours to see how she would do. A heavy ache had settled into his chest and limbs. But, the pain was not from any of his own injuries. No. Even though Scully was unconscious, he realized that he was feeling *her* pain...physically. His stomach cramped in empathy. Long ago, their unusual bond had expanded far past an occasional case of mind-reading between close partners. *God,* he thought. *I'm going to go insane if she doesn't wake up soon.* He clenched his fists...a motion that was becoming rote to him over the past few hours. Skinner had to find that note. The thought of never knowing what had happened to Scully...who had done this to her... He had to go through it once, and he had no intention of living through it again. The door swung open and Mulder looked up as Scully's doctor entered, followed by two nurses. As they moved around Scully, one of the nurses began to pull the privacy curtain between the beds. "What's going on?" Mulder asked as he tried to grab her arm. "We're going to remove Miss Scully's respirator now." She spoke in a gentle voice. It didn't take a guru to notice that the two agents were close friends. "Please," Mulder pleaded, "Don't close the curtain." The nurse looked into his eyes as she removed his hand from her arm and placed it back by his side. She shook her head. "Agent Mulder, let us do our job. She'll be okay...and, if you don't get some rest yourself, I dare say she'll get released from here before you do." She turned and closed the curtain. All Mulder could do was lay back and listen as they did their work. He soon decided that the sounds were worse than any sights he might have seen. ************************** St. Mary's Hospital Parking Lot B 0900 hours Skinner sat in his rental car and stared at the paper in front of him one more time. He was having a difficult time absorbing the words. He hadn't even broached the idea of actually *believing* them yet. He had made quick work of restoring the burned note. Once he had moistened it sufficiently to uncrumple it without having it fall apart, it had simply been a matter of remembering the spy formulas from his decoder-ringed childhood. Spray on the right household cleaner and, voila, the ink would react and one could read the charred message. His technique had been perfect. *Too bad for me,* he thought grimly. Immediately after deciphering Scully's precise handwriting and copying it onto his own sheet of paper, in his own personal shorthand, he had known what had to be done. He had picked up the phone and called in some favors. Then he ripped up Scully's note into tiny pieces. Pieces he would discard one or two at a time over a distance of several miles. Now, he looked at his shorthand once again. His mind kept seeing the last line Scully had written...one that he had discretely not included on his own copy. "Mulder - I know you'll do everything you can. But, I don't expect a miracle. Please remember that, partner." He could actually hear Scully's voice repeating these words in his head. Mulder and Scully were an annoyingly amazing duet, and it was rare that he was privy to any personal communications between them. Occasionally, he would catch a shared glance, one that silently relayed support, understanding, sympathy...whatever the other one needed. They always conveyed a unified front to the outside world...to the Bureau. They apparently saved any disagreements they might have for moments outside of prying eyes and ears. A wise decision on their part. And now, he held one of those moments in his hand. A moment he was not supposed to intercept, but one that told him everything about their complicated relationship. Skinner felt as though he had trespassed against them. He carefully folded the small piece of paper and slid it into his pocket. He looked at his watch and realized it was time. His help should be arriving any moment. He peered up at the sky, his ears ready to hear the sound of rotors. ******************************** Room 402 0920 hours Mulder had not been able to get any sleep. He was too busy listening to Scully's breathing. She seemed to be doing okay without the respirator, but, he didn't want to fall asleep and find out his assessment was wrong. He was startled when Skinner entered the room, followed by several men who were wearing what appeared to be medivac suits. Skinner did not wait for Mulder's inevitable question. "Agent Mulder, these gentlemen are going to transport you and Agent Scully to another location..." He could see the gears working in Mulder's head. "This other location will be more...secure." Mulder could tell that his boss did not want to discuss the matter in this room. He would have to wait. And, he could also see something else in Skinner's eyes. Had he found out something about what had happened? But, he knew that too would have to wait. He resigned himself to cooperating with the medics as they moved him from the bed. ******************************* Outside of St. Louis, Missouri West County Lindbergh Mercy Clinic July 29 0600 hours The first thing that registered in Scully's mind was that her throat really hurt...and she desperately wanted a drink of water. To that end, she opened her eyes to see what see would find. She was confused as she scanned the room around her. She was in some kind of hospital bed...but the room seemed far too ornate for a hospital. The usual sterile, puke-green, impersonal decor was missing. And, she noted, most hospital rooms did not come with their own Assistant Director of the FBI. Skinner sat, or slumped, in a chair beside her bed, his head resting on a pillow on the bed tray. She moved her hand to her face, staring at the i.v. inserted into the back of her hand. Her movement caused Skinner to jerk awake suddenly. He gave her a smile which on anyone else would have been called a grimace, but Scully knew him better than that by now. "Agent Scully....you're finally awake," Skinner stated. Somehow, he couldn't think of anything more appropriate to say. Scully tried to speak but her throat closed and choked the sounds. Skinner could see her distress and he reached for the pitcher of water on the table beside them. He quickly poured a cup, thoughtfully inserted a straw, and handed it to her. Scully could only convey her thanks with a nod. After a few sips, she could manage some raspy sentences. "Where are we?" "This is a private clinic outside of St. Louis. I thought it was the safest place for now." Skinner answered. He could see new questions forming inside Scully's head, but it was obvious she did not know where to begin. He decided to spare her the decision. "Do you remember what happened?" Skinner asked cautiously. He leaned forward slightly as he waited for her response. Scully's face darkened as she began to recall what had led to her being in a hospital bed. Her first memory was of Mulder...that he was dead. Suddenly, she did not want to talk to anyone. But, she could tell that her boss was going to be persistent. Remembering everything else she had been told...and it seemed like another lifetime ago that she had spoken with Ryder, watched him die...she responded to Skinner's question in the simplest way she could. She simply nodded, averting her eyes from his piercing gaze. Skinner let out a sigh. He had hoped that Scully would not recall anything, making all of the plans he had been thinking of pointless. "I have the note you gave to Mulder," he stated quietly. Scully looked back at him. So, Mulder had made it back before he was killed. He had lived up to his side of the deal, just like she knew he would. But, she realized, if Skinner had read the note...and she remembered everything up until her last ditch attempt to return *home*...then, she and Skinner were in danger. Was this why Skinner had brought her to this clinic? "How did I get here?" Scully asked. "Mulder told me where and when to go...but, when I got to Caveton, the woods were crawling with... *unfriendlies.* A short time later, a man called on Mulder's cell phone, which I had, and he told me that he had found you behind his house in Chantal. I flew over in the helicopter and picked you up. It was touch and go for a while. Someone tried to administer some kind of hallucinogenic drug to you at the hospital in Pierre. I thought it would be safer here at this private clinic. You were moved here yesterday afternoon." Scully quietly digested this information before proceeding. She swallowed hard, ignoring the pain in her raw throat, and asked her next question. She had to know the answer. "And what happened to Mulder?" "Agent Mulder was shot while we were trying to analyze the blood sample you gave him. The lab tech was also shot, but a doctor in Minnesota was able to come up with a crude anti-toxin for you. And, it seems to be working. You had us worried for a while." Scully's fingers idly played across the bedsheet that covered her. Skinner watched her carefully. He knew that she was still suffering from the effects of the toxin, and he knew she had to be tired...exhausted from the ordeal she and Mulder had been through, and yet, he was still puzzled. Somehow he had expected that the doctor in her would kick in and insist on seeing Mulder...on knowing his condition. But, she hadn't even asked about how he was doing. Something was wrong. "Sir, I'm tired and would really like a few minutes to myself, if that's okay." Skinner's eyes narrowed. Why was this normally steely agent acting so defeated? It reminded him of the horrible mask on her face when he had first seen her in the farmhouse in Chantal. "I'll leave in just a moment, Agent Scully...after you tell me what's wrong. Did something else happen to you?" Scully sighed in frustration. Skinner was not going to make this easy. And, she really did not want an audience while she began to mourn her partner and best friend. "With all due respect, sir," she rasped, forcing her voice to obey her command. "I think losing one's partner entitles you to at least a few moments of peace and quiet...alone." Skinner's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?" He asked. Scully stared at him, completely confused. ******************** Ten minutes later, Scully was exhausted. Once Skinner understood that she had believed Mulder to be dead, he had quickly set her straight. Her relief was soon replaced with concern as Skinner explained what had happened to Mulder. In short, he had almost been killed trying to save her life. And now, Mulder lay in a room down the hall, unable to coherently recall anything that happened. She raised her hands to her head and began to massage her temples, becoming annoyed when the i.v. in her left hand got in the way. She had a feeling that the conversation that she and Skinner were about to have was going to make her present headache look like an infant. Skinner, to his credit, had given her time to get her mind back on track. He sat, patiently waiting, until she gave him the cue that she could think clearly again. Scully looked up at him and nodded slightly. It was time to figure out what to do. "Agent Scully," Skinner began, "I think you understand our dilemma. You and Agent Mulder are safe for the moment, but, it won't take long for that to change. I'm sure that *they* are aware of Mulder's memory loss..." "Since *they* caused it..." Scully muttered. "But," he continued, "they haven't been able to confirm that your memory is gone. I tried to cover our tracks at the hospital...let them think that they succeeded in administering the drug to you also...but, they will want confirmation. So, the question is..." "The question is," Scully interrupted, "how well can I pretend to remember nothing. How well can I pretend that none of this happened...how well can I keep all of this knowledge hidden from my partner..." Scully's voice was laced with bitterness. Skinner could understand how she felt. He had the same acrid aftertaste in his own mouth. "You should know, Scully, that Mulder has already been asking a lot of questions. He was able to recall the note you wrote him...the one I found. If he keeps pursuing the answers..." "You don't have to spell it out for me, sir. I'm very aware of Mulder's persistence." Scully had to smile at this truth. Her partner was the pitbull from hell once he sank his teeth into a problem. He clamped down and refused to let go, no matter how much shaking or kicking or yelling...whatever. He hung on. Skinner shared her weak smile. But then, he narrowed his eyes as he studied her. "Do you think you can do it? Can you keep all of this from your partner?" Skinner asked. Scully looked to the window. The sun had begun its climb into the early morning sky, its warmth working its way across the room, almost touching her bed. She let out her breath in a long stream. She knew what she wanted to tell Skinner...but she also knew that what she wanted and what was the truth were two different entities. She turned back to face Skinner, her face set and determined, showing an inner strength that her tired and aching body right now lacked. "Sir, even if I thought I could pull it off...and I doubt that I could since Mulder can read me like a book...I can't do it. I can't betray my partner's trust. I can't lie to him. Not about this. He deserves to have at least a piece of the truth...and this time, I have a piece to offer him. I'm not going to let go of it this time...I had to do it once, but I convinced myself that there were innocent people involved...my sister needed me. But, this time, it's just us.... I can't let Mulder down again." Skinner sighed inwardly. He suspected that this would be Scully's reply. He thought back to the time he had met them in a West Virginia diner. The conversation that Scully and Mulder had beyond their words...with their eyes...he knew how much Scully's decision had cost them both. Still, this time, he had to make sure that Scully knew the consequences of her decision. "You understand, Agent Scully, that they will kill you both when they find out what you know. There will be no way for me to protect you once you and Mulder start poking around..." "I understand. But, I don't see any alternative...I can just hope that we manage to bring down a few of *them* with us," Scully stated firmly; however, her body belied the strength of her words. She slumped back against her pillows, her face becoming even more drawn. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard against the nausea she felt. Skinner leaned forward. He kicked himself for pushing her so hard...but, he realized grimly, it had to be done. Decisions...life and death ones...had to be made right away. In a surprisingly tender gesture, he laid his hand on her forehead. Her skin was cool and damp. Scully didn't open her eyes at the feel of his touch. It reminded her of how her older brother used to dote on her when she was little. Whenever she had been sick, all of the usual little sister teasing went out the window...and her brother had been there, taking her temperature, telling her stories...anything to distract her and make her feel better. Scully's eyes burst open as she realized how nebulous her thoughts were becoming. Skinner pulled his hand back to his side. "How are you feeling?" Skinner asked. "Just a little tired...I'll be fine," Scully responded. Skinner had to bite back a smart comment. For the first time, he could understand how frustrated Mulder felt whenever she used that stock reply. It was very obvious that she was not fine. But, if she wanted to pretend, he could accommodate her for a few more minutes. Then, he would leave her alone and finish the last details of his plan. "Agent Scully...I do have an idea that can buy you some time. But, if you agree to it, we have to set it in motion today...and you won't be able to discuss it with Mulder beforehand." Scully considered his statement. After a moment, she nodded to him. "Can you tell me what it is?" She asked. "Part of it...but, on the rest...I'm going to ask you to do what you and Mulder have asked of me on several occasions...you're gonna have to trust me. Can you do that?" Scully reached out and laid her hand on top of Skinner's. He had already risked so much for her and Mulder. This last request was surprisingly easy to answer. "Sir...you're on." Skinner quietly began to outline his plans. ********************* CHAPTER TWENTY Lindbergh Mercy Clinic July 29 1300 hours Mulder impatiently pushed the "channel up" button on the remote control, paying absolutely no attention to the pictures that rapidly flashed across the television screen mounted on the wall opposite his bed. He was sick and tired of waiting for answers. He had not seen Skinner since their arrival at the clinic the day before. And no one would tell him anything about Scully. He turned the television off and threw the remote onto the floor in disgust. The only thing he knew for sure was that they were somewhere near St. Louis. He had actually glimpsed the infamous Arch as they flew in on the posh Lear jet. Skinner was up to something, but Mulder had no clue what that something was. For now, he would be somewhat pacified if he could just see his partner with his own eyes...know that she was okay. He pulled up on his hospital gown and looked at the large bandages across the wound in his side. It would be difficult for him to get out of bed without help...unless he didn't mind opening the wound once again. But, right now, that seemed to be his only option if he wanted to get any information. He raised his right hand and pulled on the T-bar above, pulling himself up into a sitting position. He grimaced at the sharp ache in his side, his left hand moving in to press over the wound....hoping his palm would keep all of his internal organs from spilling out. Of course, he knew that they wouldn't pop out onto the bed...the wound was too small...but, it certainly felt like they would. He stared at his bare feet as they hovered over the linoleum floor. Too bad he had no idea where his socks and shoes were. The floor was going to be cold. With a tug on the bar above, he slid himself over the edge of the bed and began to stand, gripping the bed rail to steady himself. He looked up and saw a robe draped over the chair beside the bed. With a few staggering steps, he managed to grab the robe. As he tried to pull on the robe, he became aware of an obstacle. His i.v. line. He frowned. He had to pull it out if he wanted to get out of his room...but, he knew that would only mean that someone would have to put it back in later...and he hated needles. He sighed and pulled it out of his hand. Scully was worth at least a few needles. He then gingerly pulled the robe on. At least he wouldn't be giving anyone a free *peep show.* Taking baby steps until he could regain some semblance of inner balance, he shuffled toward the door. His hand had just found the door handle, when the door swung open, wrenching his arm, and he was almost sent sprawling. Mulder gasped at the sharp twinge in his side as he turned to see who had thwarted his *escape.* His eyes met those of Skinner's. Strangely, Skinner didn't say a thing as he moved to help the now doubled over Mulder back to bed. As Mulder leaned back into his pillows, he looked again at Skinner's face. It did not have its normal stoic intensity. No, something was different. Something was wrong. Something that he did not want to tell Mulder. The fact that Skinner hadn't chewed him out for getting out of bed told him that whatever news Skinner had, it was not pleasant. "What is it, sir?" Mulder cautiously asked, not sure if he really wanted to know. When Skinner looked down at his feet instead of answering, Mulder could feel the first pangs of panic beginning to constrict his throat and chest. He couldn't bring himself to voice the real question he dreaded to ask...so, he opted for hope in another. "Is it the note? Was it destroyed?" Mulder asked, praying that was the problem. Skinner looked up, surprised. Then he saw the look in Mulder's eyes and realized what the agent was doing. He could see that Mulder already suspected the truth. He shook his head. "No, Agent Mulder. It isn't about the note..." his voice fell off. This was harder than he thought it would be...and he had already known it would prove difficult. "Scully?" Mulder's voice was weak, his eyes pleading with Skinner to not give the answer he already knew. Skinner nodded grimly. "I'm sorry, Mulder. They did everything they could for her...but, her heart...it just couldn't take the strain caused by the toxin." Mulder closed his eyes, willing the tears of anguish and rage not to fall. After a moment, he opened them and spoke in a steady, tightly controlled voice. "Take me to her. I have to see her." Skinner nodded. He had known that Mulder would want to see her. Mulder always had to see the truth for himself. He crossed back to the door and opened it, motioning to the nurse outside. She passed the wheelchair to him and he wheeled it back to the bed. "They were preparing to move her...I asked them to wait a few minutes," Skinner spoke softly. Mulder intended to nod his thanks, but all he could do was focus on getting into the wheelchair. Skinner slowly pushed him out of the room and down the long hallway. ******************** Mulder stared blankly at the still figure on the bed before him. Her body had already been wrapped up in the bedsheets...looking like a sterile white cocoon. Only her face remained exposed. Mulder had to keep himself from ripping the sheets open, a last desperate attempt to revive her. After all, he had brought her back once before when no one else could. His eyes moved from the starched, crisp linen to the pale skin of her face. Her hair had been carefully brushed back from her face...all except for one stray group that fell down over her forehead. Mulder stood and inched his way toward the bed, his hand outstretched. He didn't notice his own passage until his legs met the firm side of the hospital bed. Then, his fingers gently completed their calling, caressing the errant hair back into place. Now, nothing would mar her face. His fingers curled back into a tight ball. If only they had let him see her sooner...she would have fought for him. It was their fault. His numbed body gradually began to feel again. It seemed as if his stomach had dropped into the earth, replaced by an intense, burning ache in his chest and throat...an overwhelming sense of loss...of loneliness. "I'm so sorry, Scully...so sorry I wasn't here..." he whispered, so quietly that Skinner could not discern the words. Mulder didn't notice that his entire body was shaking until Skinner moved up behind him and pulled him back into the wheelchair. Skinner manuevered the chair toward the door. Mulder's head hung down, his face covered by an emotion that Skinner could not quite name. As they reached the door frame, the emotion identified itself. Mulder's hands flew to each side of the door jamb, stopping their forward movement. The agent's fingers were turning white as they firmly grasped their target. "Mulder, we have to go...let go..." Skinner tried to prod. Mulder shook his head furiously. "NO! I can't leave her! There has to be something...anything...she CAN'T be dead!" Skinner began to pry Mulder's fingers from the door, but for each one he loosened, the others picked up the slack. Hearing the commotion, two nurses ran to help. Finally, the three of them managed to peel the last of Mulder's fingers loose. As he lost his desperate grip, Mulder threw back his head and howled in anguish. Then, just as suddenly, he fell quiet. Skinner quickly pushed him back to his room. He didn't seem to notice when Mulder's eyes turned and spotted the pistol tucked in the assistant director's waist holster. The two nurses looked on as Skinner pushed Mulder into his room. Then, Skinner waved them off. "Let me handle this...I'll call if I need any assistance." The nurses shrugged at one another and went back to their station across the hall. Two minutes later, their sense of normalcy almost restored, the air was shattered by a loud gunshot. As they jumped from the chairs, Skinner burst from Mulder's room, blood covering his hands. "Get the doctor...NOW! He's shot himself!" Skinner yelled and ran back into the room. While one of the nurses ran down the hall to get help, the other nurse followed Skinner into the room. She stopped short at the doorway when she saw the scene. Agent Mulder lay on the floor, his head covered in blood, the gun still gripped tightly in his hand. Skinner knelt beside him, feeling for a pulse; but, the nurse could see that it was pointless. Mulder was dead. ************************** Somewhere in New York City 1800 hours "So, the information is correct?" The man spoke quietly into the phone. Each word carefully measured. He hung up the phone slowly and turned to the other men in the smoke and leather furniture filled room. "The crisis is over. Both of them are out of the picture." One man leaned forward. "And this is confirmed? We've heard this before..." "Yes. One of the nurses there understands our concerns. She personally witnessed both events. It seems that Mulder was distraught over the loss of his loyal partner. He took care of things for us. What a pity. He didn't have to go this time...his memory was gone..." "Yes, but he would have been a thorn...wanting to avenge her." "You're right, of course," the man sighed. "So, we are back on schedule?" "Yes. The horizon is now clear for everything to proceed normally." ****************************** EPILOGUE The wind was sharp that day as the woman stood on the lush green slope. She wrapped her coat around her as tightly as possible, wishing that she could rid herself of the chill that had settled within her bones. But, she knew that the weather was not the real cause for the icy pain that penetrated her chest. The cold blue waters of the Chesapeake Bay were oblivious to the woman as she stared down the hill at the choppy waves. She bowed her head as all of the hopes and all of the dreams she had once dared to harbor rushed from her heart and slid down to the rocky shore below. She closed her eyes for she could not bear to watch as the waves readily swallowed them, ferrying them to the vast ocean beyond. The woman turned and opened her eyes once again. Yes. This was the perfect place. This was the perfect view. A perfect view for the two...friends. Always friends, even though this woman had hoped for more. But, now, at last, they were together...forever. If not in body, then in spirit. And. at last, she hoped, they had both found some peace. She stared at the two markers that lay side by side. She hadn't even had bodies to bury. Walter Skinner had delivered their ashes to her...ashes she had poured into the sea two days ago. Her eyes began to blur, in part from grief, and, in part from the brisk morning wind. "Take care of her, Fox." Mrs. Scully turned and headed back to the lonely road that would lead her home. THE END of Part One........... ************************************************* ************************************************* WHEN A TREE FALLS II: "CAN'T SEE THE FOREST..." by mabtng ************************************************* ************************************************* CHAPTER ONE 25 miles outside of Socorro, New Mexico August 3 Noon He stood by the window, his fingers idly drumming against the sill as his eyes stared through the scrub-brushed desert landscape outside. The unrelenting sun above penetrated the paint on the other side of the pane, making it blister in protest. He found it fitting that he was standing in the middle of the southwestern desert in the middle of summer. The American version of hell. It certainly mirrored what he had been going through for the past five days. Five days he never wanted to relive in any way, shape or form. But, this morning, he was given a reprieve...allowed to come back from the edge of the abyss into which he had been dipping his toes. He turned his back to the window and looked around the room, his eyes finally remembering how to focus on the here and now. The bedroom was sparsely, but functionally, furnished. Typical southwest decor...wood and earthy colors...woven blankets. Two simple chairs, a chest of drawers, a dresser...and a painted iron bed. He had to smile at the bed's occupant. She was still asleep, but, at least this time he knew she would be waking up. She was the one who had given him his reprieve today. He moved back to the chair beside the bed and gingerly sat down. His side still hurt...the special ache that came with healing. At least the waistband of his sweatpants didn't cut into the bandage anymore. His eyes moved to the clock. It was lunchtime. He hoped she would wake up soon. She needed to eat something...and, that was also when their caretaker was going to leave them to their own devices...his job was done and he needed to get back to his *safe* life. A soft knock at the door made him jump slightly. Force of habit, a fortuitous habit, prevented him from being able to let those defenses down. Holding his arm against his side to press against the ache, he moved across the room quietly and opened the door. "Is she awake yet?" Dr. Forbes asked. "No. And I don't really want to wake her...let her body tell her when it's time to get up," Fox Mulder whispered as he tried to move out into the hallway. "Well, I need to get going in a few minutes...I should check her out one more time before leaving," Forbes whispered back. "If you guys are going to whisper, can you at least do it in here where I can hear you better?" Dana Scully's weak voice called out from the room. Both Mulder and Forbes rolled their eyes, although it was only a cover for the relief they felt. They moved back into the room. Mulder resisted the urge to rush to her side, desperate for the chance to finally talk to her about what had happened...tell her how glad he was that she was okay; but, he held back, letting Forbes go to work. "So, how's my favorite red-headed patient this afternoon?" Forbes asked as he checked her pulse, his eyes scanning her complexion, his ears listening for any strain in her voice. "Not too bad...just a bit weak, I guess," Scully replied, carefully eying Mulder, making sure he got the point that he didn't need to hover. "And maybe this time around I'll actually get all of the details of where we are...what day it is..." she continued. Forbes pulled the stethoscope from his neck and got to work, listening to Scully's heart and lungs, nodding to himself...everything sounded okay. "Well, Agent Scully, I think I'll leave all the talking to your partner... I really think he's quite thankful to have someone else to talk to. He's been pretty bored for the past few days...what with just having a dull doctor like me to talk to...and you're certainly better looking than I am..." Scully almost laughed when she saw Mulder look down and actually shuffle his feet. "I don't think Dr. Forbes, here believes in liver eating mutants, Scully," Mulder retorted. "Right, Agent Mulder," Forbes sarcastically responded as he folded his equipment back up, his exam finished. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a sheet of paper which he held out for Mulder. "Well, Agent Scully seems to have joined you on the road to recovery...finally. I've written down some instructions here concerning medications and the like for her...make sure she sticks to them, Mulder." Mulder nodded firmly. "I will...believe me." Forbes' smile turned slightly devilish. "AND...I included instructions for the care of your wound...I'm certain that DOCTOR Scully will make sure you follow the rules, too..." Scully coughed back a laugh. Dr. Forbes had obviously gotten more than a glimpse of Mulder's character during his stay. "He will...believe me." A shadow crossed Forbes' face. He knew his part of the plan was over. "Well, I must be going..." his voice faded as he looked the two agents over. They had already traveled a rough road, and it was only going to get harder. "Good luck...I wish there was more I could do for you..." Forbes squeezed Scully's hand gently and turned to leave. Mulder followed the doctor to the door. "I'll be right back, Scully. I'm gonna see the doc off..." Mulder stated. "Okay...and thanks for everything, Dr. Forbes," Scully called out softly. *************** Forbes and Mulder stood in the doorway of the cabin and shook hands. Mulder could feel the doctor's strength in his grip. Not only the physical, but a strength of spirit. No wonder Skinner placed his trust in this man. While he did not know many details, Forbes had told him that he and A.D. Skinner had met in Vietnam. The closed look in his eyes when he mentioned the meeting told Mulder not to ask any questions. But, for now, Mulder just wished that he could convey in words the thanks he owed this man. Five days earlier, when they had arrived at this desert safehouse, Scully had only held a tenuous grip on life. The drug they had administered to her to make her "death" seem real had affected her much more than they had predicted. It had done more than just temporarily induce a "coma." By the time they had removed her "body" from the clinic in St. Louis and had gotten her into a safe vehicle where they could really monitor her, her heart had begun to fluctuate wildly. It had actually stopped several times. Mulder had been beside himself. They had had to administer the drugs to her because of him. HE had to be convinced of her death in order for Skinner's plan to work...and they had known that HE would have to see her "body" with his own eyes...hence the drugs...hence Scully's weak condition. His part had been easy. Once Skinner got him back to his room after the "viewing," Skinner had whispered the "Reader's Digest Condensed Version" of the plan to him. He had poured the blood over Mulder's head...blood that Forbes had drawn from him earlier...and then fired his gun. It was amazing how no one wanted to really, really look at a gunshot victim. His death had been so easy to pull off. No one doubted that he would kill himself after Scully's death. *Was he that easy to read?* He sighed. The price Scully continuously had to pay for him was too high. Forbes seemed to sense Mulder's frustration. He placed his hand on the agent's shoulder. "She's going to be fine, Mulder. Use your time here for some rehab...both here," he said, pointing to Mulder's side, "and here," he continued, pointing to Mulder's head. "We did what had to be done...and now, before I leave...I just want to say...I hope you find whatever it is you need. Walt apparently thinks it's worth it." Mulder nodded and shook Forbes' hand again. He was really an amazing man. "Thanks for everything, Doc." ******************** Scully carefully pushed against the bed, sliding herself up to a semi-seated position against the pillows. This was her first chance to really take in her surroundings. She could sense that time had passed. She frowned. Apparently a few parts of the plan she had discussed with Skinner had gone awry. And judging from the look of Mulder, it had involved her. She had woken up this morning and found Mulder holding her hand in a death grip. The relief had been so obvious on his face. He had muttered a few comments about her being "out of it" for "several days," but she had been too tired to talk about anything. She had merely granted him a warm smile in return. Dr. Forbes had come in and also seemed quite relieved to see her awake. He had taken the i.v. out of her arm after he gave her a thorough check over. Mulder had refused to leave and had stayed by her side...modesty be damned. She hadn't minded. Mulder did, however, behave like a gentleman and turned his back when Forbes performed a few of the more "revealing" procedures and when he removed some of the myriad of tubes that had been connected to her body. She had been too tired to begin asking the school of questions that swam in her head. Before she had even tried to utter a word through her dry and sore throat, she had fallen asleep once again. Now that her head was beginning to clear, all she could do was wait until Mulder came back to her and filled in the gaps. And then, she would have to fill in the gaps for him concerning their time in Caveton...and what got them into this whole mess. She sighed. She was going to have to pace herself. Right now, she was too tired to imagine putting more than a few sentences together. Of course, if the plan was in action, she and Mulder would have plenty of time...several weeks...to discuss what had happened to them...and the point they had now reached. They were past the "point of no return." A cliche, but, true nonetheless. She closed her eyes in preparation for the mourning that she knew was sure to come. There would be no going home and crawling into her own bed, in her own space. There would be no phone calls to her family. Her jaw tightened. She knew that her mother had to have heard of her "death" by now. She shook her head. She could not think of that now. She needed to concentrate on the future...on the path she and Mulder would have to take in order to go back to their lives. She had to convince herself that the end would be worth the sacrifices they were making. She could only imagine the uncertain path in front of them. First, they would have to lie low as they healed...and as they planned. Then, whatever the plan was, it would only succeed if they were able to obtain the "holy grail." They had to possess a bargaining chip. Something that would force the Cancer Man and his cronies to deal. Something like the DAT tape they had traded over a year before. The tape that allowed her to see her sister before she died. The tape that got them both reinstated to their jobs at the Bureau, no questions asked. This would be a no-holds barred search for answers...and for evidence to back up those answers. It would be an arduous journey. She looked up from her thoughts as she heard the door opening. Mulder came in, carefully balancing a tray in his hands and a hopeful smile on his face. Scully had to smile back, even though she was less than thrilled to see that the tray held lunch. While she knew she needed to eat something, her stomach was not really excited to see the soup and sandwiches. She spoke up as Mulder was placing the tray down on the bedside table. "Mulder...I'm not sure I can keep anything down..." Mulder looked at her and his eyes narrowed in concern as he saw her face was turning slightly green. He sat down beside her on the bed and placed his hand over her arm. "I know, Scully, but, let's just try a little bit of this bouillon. You've gotta get something into your system to get your strength back." She looked at him doubtfully, then her eyes slowly drifted to the soup bowl. She nodded slowly, knowing he was right. Mulder picked up the bowl and started to hand it to her, but he noticed that her hands were too shaky. "Here, Scully, I'll just set it on a plate and put it here on your lap..." He grabbed a plate and soon Scully was staring at the bowl in her lap. She picked up the spoon with her right hand and tried to move it toward the bowl, but it wouldn't cooperate. Her muscles were still tied in knots and had been weakened by the effects of the toxin and by the atrophy from disuse. Before Scully could drop the spoon in frustration, Mulder grabbed her hand and took the utensil from her. Without a word, he carefully dipped the spoon in the bouillon and brought it to her lips. She looked at his face, embarrassed by her helplessness, but his eyes reassured her...and reminded her of their friendship. There was nothing to be humiliated about. They both knew that she would do the same for him if the situation was reversed. She smiled in thanks and relaxed. And suddenly, she knew how they would get through this trek into the unknown. Together. One day at a time. "Okay, Mulder...we'll try this. But, so help me, if you make ONE comment about the airplane going into the hangar...you're a dead man..." Mulder shook his head and with his free hand, he turned the imaginary key to his lips and tossed the *key* away. Scully leaned forward hesitantly and sipped the bouillon. It took all of her will power to swallow the liquid. She had to sit back and close her eyes, forcing her throat to open and allow the fluid down, despite her stomach's insistence that it not be invaded. Mulder quietly watched her, wincing in sympathy. Scully managed to finish half the bowl before she insisted on calling it quits. Mulder seemed satisfied with her efforts. It was a start. As he cleared the dishes from the bedside table, she watched him expectantly. He knew what she was waiting to hear. He returned to the bed and sat down beside her again. She watched him carefully to see how much his side was still bothering him. Impatient for him to begin, Scully spoke first. "So, where are we? And what happened at the clinic?" Mulder let out a long breath. He had no desire to relive every painful detail...like the moment he was told that she was dead. "Let's just say that Skinner's plan went like clockwork...up until the time they removed our *bodies* and Dr. Forbes tried to revive you....By the way, Scully...if you ever decide to pull something like that again, letting them put you into a coma....don't EVER do that again." "I'm sorry, Mulder," she whispered, seeing the pain in her partner's face. He shook his head and then reached out for her hand, squeezing it tightly. "No, Scully. I know why you did it... Thank you for what you did... thank you for refusing to lie to me. You know how much I cherish the trust we have. But, the risk you took....it was too much..." "I had to do it," Scully interrupted. "I couldn't keep this truth from you...not after everything that happened...." Mulder couldn't look at her face. "It was too much, Scully. You almost died...for real." "Mulder. Look at me." Scully mustered all of her strength and it carried in her voice. He obeyed. "A lot of strange things happened in Caveton...and I'm going to tell you all of it. There's more to this than a 'simple' X-File, Mulder...more to it than just your life and mine. You must know that, or we wouldn't be here. Besides, I believe that I could give you the same lecture..." she stated, pointing to the bandage on his side. "How are *you* doing?" Mulder swept the back of his hand across the bandage as if to brush the whole thing away like a pesky fly. "It's nothing..." he began. "Mul-der..." Mulder knew that when Scully said his name that way, drawing it out, emphasizing the M and the R, he had to come clean. "Really, Scully. It's much better. I was lucky." Scully sighed, even as her hand moved across the bandage, checking its moorings. She pulled her hand back, knowing that she would have to be satisfied with his response. In any case, she had made her point to him. It was time to change the subject. "Sure. Fine. In any case, we're going to have a lot of work to do when we get out of here...and I still don't know where *here* is..." Scully's voice faded. She was getting hoarse, and it was becoming hard to keep her eyes open. "We're at a cabin outside of Socorro, New Mexico. Dr. Forbes' parents owned this place and left it to him when he died...he put it in the name of one of his married daughters...it's off the beaten path and it will be very difficult to trace us here even if anyone figures out that we're still alive and kicking..." Scully smiled faintly. "Well, maybe not kicking quite yet..." She let her head fall back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Mulder frowned. He had pushed her too hard. He felt her forehead with the back of his hand...she was only a little feverish. Dr. Forbes had expected that and had given him some medication to give her. Mulder stood up and leaned over her. "Scully, don't fade out on me yet...I'm going to go get your medicine. You've gotta take it before you go back to sleep." "Hmm, mmm" Scully responded, but did not open her eyes. Mulder cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him. He spoke sternly. "I'm not kidding, Scully. Wake up! You take your medicine, then you can sleep." She opened her eyes slightly. "Yes, sir," she mumbled. Mulder released his hold on her and hastily left to get the medicine from the bathroom. He hurried back, trying not to let panic set in. He had dreaded Forbes' departure for this very reason...what if Scully took a turn for the worse...he had no one to turn to for help now. Calling for a doctor was out of the question. "Calm down, Mulder," he told himself. "She's just tired...not comatose. Dr. Forbes told you not to let her talk too much yet...she's just tired." He hurried back to Scully and sat down on the bed so he could prop her up to swallow the medicine. He ended up seated behind her, with her leaning back against his chest, his legs straddling her. He awkwardly unscrewed the bottle cap and poured the liquid onto a spoon. Scully managed to swallow the dose with a grimace. It tasted horrible. Then, with a sigh, she let her head drop back on Mulder's shoulder, her eyes already closed in sleep. Not wanting to disturb her, he somehow managed to recap the bottle and put it on the nightstand. Then, realizing he could not get back up without waking her...a convenient predicament since he certainly had no place better to be at the moment...he leaned back against the pillows, pulling the blanket over them both, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist. Within minutes, he too was fast asleep. ************************** An office somewhere in Washington, D.C. The man sat quietly, reclined in his chair. The only sound was the rhythmic soft pop each time his lips released his cigarette and smoke. The only light came from the thin slits left by the closed blinds over the window he never looked out. He preferred it that way. He liked to be wrapped in shadow. And right now, he had several of his own shadows out doing his business...*their* business. He had to find it. The deaths of the two players...his "enemies"...had been...unfortunate. But, that was part of the game. They had lost. And now, he had to find the instrument that had set much of these circumstances in motion. The man and the woman did not have possession of it when they died. Of this he was certain. He had made certain. So, now...his shadows were going down the list of possibilities. It would only be a matter of time before they succeeded. He looked down at the paper and pen in his hands. Without even being conscious of it, he had been idly writing on the paper. Two letters. W.S. ************************ CHAPTER TWO Washington, D.C. F.B.I. Headquarters August 14 Assistant Director Walter Skinner paced in front of his desk, his head bowed in thought. He had to keep moving to concentrate for he had not slept in over twenty-four hours. He folded both hands over his face and rubbed them across his eyes, then he lifted his glasses slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. It didn't help. His nose still hurt...as did his ribs. And the bruise on his right cheek didn't feel so hot either. In fact, he wasn't happy that he had to be wearing his spare pair of glasses...they had never fit quite right. It had all started yesterday afternoon. He had received a call from a Sgt. Carmichael who said he was with the Arlington County Police. Carmichael told Skinner that he was at his condo in Crystal City. A neighbor had reported hearing a suspicious noise. When the police arrived, they found that Skinner's condo had been burglarized and ransacked. Skinner had immediately left his office for home to see the damage. He had parked in the garage, by-passing the front of the building. That had been a mistake. If he had gone by the front, he would have seen that there were no police cars in the front drive. If he had gone by the front, he might have been better prepared for what awaited him. They had obviously done their homework. None of the neighbors were home. They hit him from behind as he got off the elevator. As the struggle began, a blow broke his eyeglasses and sent them flying. As he struggled with the three "gorillas," they dragged him into his apartment and closed the door. Although his mind was reeling from the blows to his face and stomach, he could see that everything in his home was turned inside out and upside down. Shattered glass and dishes littered the floor. Two of the men grabbed him by his arms as the third man stood before him. He began to punch Skinner in the gut, each blow punctuated with a word. "Where...is...it?" He grunted. Skinner slowly raised his head and sneered. "What the hell are you talking about?" he rasped. The blows continued. "Where...is...it?" Skinner could merely shake his head. His attackers dropped him to the floor. While they knew that Skinner was the type to lie inspite of a "thumping," this time, they suspected he was telling the truth. They had searched his apartment and his office...both locations were "wired for sound," and he had been under surveillance for a week. Skinner had given no indication that he knew anything about the item they sought. So, they were trying to speed up their job today, get results faster and more "efficiently," by ransacking his home...and then, delivering their message "up close and personal." The style they liked the most. Just another way of getting to what the "higher-ups" wanted. As their version of the saying went, "If the mountain won't come to you, then get Mohammed to go to the mountain for you." The men headed calmly for the door, but not before one of them delivered a satisfying kick to Skinner's kidneys. Then, they straightened their jackets, smoothed their gloved hands through their hair, and walked out into the hallway. Skinner laid on the floor for several minutes, trying to get his breath back. Then he had slowly gotten up and stumbled into the bathroom to get cleaned up. He knew it was completely pointless to call the Bureau or the police. He already knew who was behind this "messenger" service call. The only thing he did not know was what "it " was. What were they looking for? So, now, he paced his office. If only there was some way to contact Mulder and Scully. He was certain that they knew what "it" was. And he couldn't decide if he should hope they had possession of it...or if he should pray that they didn't. In the meantime, he would have to do some very discreet investigating of his own. He would have to be very careful. As he reached for his suit jacket, Mulder's words suddenly played in his mind, a reminder of exactly where he stood. "Trust no one." He slid his jacket on and headed out the door. Around the block, a van started up as Skinner drove out of the garage. Their was no need to "eyeball" their target. The micro-sized "birddog" they had carefully inserted into the eyeglass frames, disguised as a screw, would give them plenty of breathing room while still letting them follow his every move. ***************************** Outside Socorro, N.M. August 17 5 p.m. local Mulder sat on the front porch swing, staring out at the ripples of heat rising from the baked clay earth. Small trickles of sweat ran down his face from his damp hair. Scully was inside, getting some much needed rest. And so, he sat here, swaying back and forth to create his own breeze, while he tried to "connect the dots"... while he tried to compute everything Scully had told him and come up with a plan of action...a plan they could put into effect the moment they were ready to move on. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. *When we're ready to go,* Mulder thought. He considered the time since Dr. Forbes had left them...since Scully "came back" to him. The answer had to lie in what she had told him. Their physical rehabilitation had not been a cornucopia of fun. Scully and Mulder had both made progress, but not without a good measure of pain. Mulder's wound had almost healed and, thanks to more stomach crunches than he cared to recall (where was the Ab-Roller when he needed it?), his stomach muscles were almost back to their pre-injury status. For all his internal complaints, however, he knew that Scully's recovery had been worse. Twice a day, every day, she sat on the floor, trying to stretch her muscles out, to regain their strength and flexibility. For the first two days, it had taken all of her energy just to get herself down on the floor. He had had to pick her up and take her back to bed. Since then, he had been assisting her in her rehab. It gave them both an emotional boost. As she lay on the floor, Mulder would lift each of her limbs in turn, helping her stretch them...forcing Scully to push herself just a little bit more each day. The first time had been the worst. Scully had panicked slightly as she realized she was at the mercy of another. If Mulder pushed too hard, it would be agonizing...and there would be nothing she could do about it. She had quickly learned, however, that her fears were unjustified...and she was embarrassed. The trust they had for each other carried over to this rehab. Mulder was amazingly understanding and gentle, while at the same time, he made her push herself to the limit. It was as though he sensed everything she felt...as though he actually could feel each twinge of pain that rushed through her. They were both a little in awe of their bond. And because of this link, Scully was getting back on her feet. They had quickly settled into a daily routine inside their isolated haven. Each morning, they would get up, have a glass of orange juice, then do their first rehab workouts. Then, they would take turns in the shower and sit down for breakfast. They used the rest of the mornings for "mental recharging." That meant time they could choose to spend apart...or time they would spend reading one of the many books from the den. If the morning was cool enough, they would go out on the front porch and sit, side by side, silently perusing their chosen books. They would head in to have lunch at noon. At two, they would begin their afternoon rehab session. This was the most grueling one. Most days, after this workout, Scully would retreat to the sofa or to her bed, exhausted, while Mulder would head for the kitchen to prepare dinner. Mulder would awaken her when dinner was ready. After dinner, they would get down to "business." The first week, Mulder had gone easy on his partner. It was still too draining for her to talk too long...and the physical exertions during the day took away any energy she might have had in the evening. When the real "talking" began, it had taken several days for Scully to recount everything that had happened to them after the mine collapse in Caveton...and it had taken two more days just to answer all of Mulder's questions. He knew that she was holding out some details. She quickly brushed over her own illness. And, he knew that she was doing it to spare him the painful, "gory" details. She knew him too well. As the tale progressed, he had been surprised to find that he was becoming jealous of Scully, in a warped sort of way. Before the Caveton incident, they had already been close. Good partners. Very good friends. The stress they were always under at work had forged that friendship. Shared trauma did that to partnerships...well, it either brought you closer or it drove you apart. And now, Mulder was feeling a sense of loss. They had obviously been through a great deal in Caveton and Chantal...something that would have added a great deal of "cement" to their relationship; yet, only she held those memories. And, in the light of day, she could edit them before sharing with him. That was exactly what she was doing; but, he knew that there was no way to get her to tell him everything. There was no way to discuss the feelings they had back in Caveton...because he had no idea what they had been. Well, he did have SOME idea, but he had no proof to back it up. And that was what he had been thinking about when Scully reached the point in her "story" where Mulder had traveled back without her...leaving her at the mine alone. Suddenly, a hazy memory surfaced. His eyes narrowed and he stared at his partner. She began to stumble over her previously sure-footed words. She always did this when she was "editing for the audience at home." He broke into an evil grin and his gaze began to penetrate her. Scully shifted uncomfortably. She knew it was silly, but she could swear that Mulder was remembering a certain detail she had left out. That stupid...but, no-so-stupid...kiss. She blushed and looked away, anxious to change the subject. "What's wrong, Scully? Are you *hot?*" He had asked suggestively. "What are you talking about, Mulder?" she demanded, turning back to face him in defiance. She stared at him, her intense gaze effectively removing his "cat that just ate the canary" facade. He had backed off...made a comment about the air-conditioning. He could see he was making her uncomfortable, and he found it made him feel too guilty to pursue it. But, at least he had confirmed that hazy memory. He filed it in his head for possible later use. Mulder had been worried about Scully during that first week. He knew that she was taking the time to work through her frustration at their situation...he knew that she desperately wanted to call her mother and let her know she was okay. But, it wasn't really their style to discuss all of this. It was their style to quietly support one another...with a glance, a gesture, a wisp of a touch. He stopped worrying about her the night she told him of her "discussion" with Mitch Ryder. She had recounted all of Ryder's claims...and Mulder had been amazed by her matter-of-fact tone as she spoke of very unusual...extreme possibilities. He remembered the conversation well. "...And, so, Mulder...that's the gist of my time with Ryder," Scully had closed, a little out of breath.. "Gee, Scully. So, I guess that Ryder saw the movie 'Roswell' too," Mulder had retorted. "Although, I imagine that Martin Sheen probably did a better delivery. Scully raised her eyebrow in puzzlement as she waited for Mulder's inevitable follow-through. He didn't disappoint her. "You have no idea what I'm referring to, do you?" Scully shook her head and Mulder continued. "Scully, you really should watch more t.v. The great cable movies are out there...." "But, Mulder, Ryder was serious...and how else do you explain where we were?" Mulder gave an evil grin. "Are you coming on to me, Scully? I mean, I can't believe that we're having this conversation...just pinch me!" Scully reached out and smacked him in the arm. He laughed quietly as he raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. The movie is based on what many people say actually happened at Roswell. This character, played by Martin Sheen...the movie's version of 'Deep Throat,' approaches Major Jesse Marcel..." "That was the military guy who first reported the object as an alien spaceship and then the brass..." Scully started to remember when Mulder interrupted to continue his version. "And then, the brass made him look like an idiot, saying that the 'craft' was actually a weather balloon. They even made Marcel pose beside a weather balloon for press photos. He became the government's scapegoat....Sound familiar, Scully?" The corners of Scully's mouth twisted up at Mulder's ironic note. "Anyway," Mulder plowed on, "Sheen gets Marcel in private and more or less says the same stuff that Ryder told you...aliens come from other dimensions, not other planets. And this would solve the time/distance dilemma...the one you so aptly described to me on our very first case. How could their craft reach us? The answer: they don't. They're already here...at least in the same space...just in another dimension. "But, at the end, Sheen warns Marcel that either the whole story he had just woven was true...or maybe it was all just a bunch of b.s. Marcel could take his pick; but, without proof, he would look like an idiot. Then, Sheen puts his sunglasses on and walks out..." "So, what's your point, Mulder?" Mulder shook his head. "I have no idea. Either it's all true, the witnesses stories of what happened, the re-creations about Roswell...OR...we were massively set up so that they could kill us off, drive us insane..." "A pretty short putt, actually..." Scully interjected. "OR," Mulder plodded over her remark, "they intended to make us look like lunatics." "So, I guess we better find out which door holds the Big Deal of the Day," Scully mused. "And *why*, 'Monty'," Mulder added. He had studied his partner, who had become lost in thought. As he considered what a nice Carol Merrill replacement she would be, he watched her eyes. He could see that she was getting her second wind. Now that they had recapped their ordeal in South Dakota...and 'beyond'...she was back in the element that energized her. Tackling a problem head on, thinking up strategy...looking for answers. At that moment, he had known that they would be leaving their safe haven soon. Mulder stood up from his perch on the swing. It was time to fix dinner. Then, he would wake up "Sleeping Beauty" and they would eat. Tonight, they would talk about leaving...and he knew exactly where they should go. ****************************** CHAPTER THREE New Mexico "Safe House" August 17 2000 hours Mulder and Scully sat on the front porch, nursing their sweat-covered glasses of iced tea. "So, Mulder, do you really think the device is still in Chantal?" Scully asked. Mulder leaned forward, setting his glass on the small table beside him. "I think the chances are very good. From what Skinner told you, I'm sure he never saw it. That only leaves the family...what was their name...Carney?" "Yes," she nodded. They both fell silent. The two agents had come to realize that the one piece of physical evidence they might be able to get...the one thing that might be used to barter for their safety was the device that Ryder had given Scully. The device that had brought Scully back. Unfortunately, Scully was unconscious when she "arrived" in Chantal, and she had never seen the device again. She wasn't even sure it had made the "trip" with her. Another down side was that they had absolutely no idea how the thing worked...why it worked...or what its true potential was. "So," Scully began, "I guess the question is...when do we leave?" Mulder examined her face carefully, looking for any sign of hesitation. He knew she wasn't one hundred percent yet, but, he saw the determination in her eyes. "Well, I think we should probably get an early start. Leave while it's still dark. It would draw a lot less attention to us, at least when we leave here. How 'bout if we take off around 4 a.m.?" "Have you checked the map? How long will it take to get there?" Mulder nodded. "It'll take about 15 hours, if we push it. If we leave at 4, and allow for a few rest breaks, we should be there around 8 or 9 p.m." Scully leaned back in her seat, nodding slightly. "That won't give us much time to rest up, but we can sleep and drive in shifts....have you checked out our transportation yet?" "Yeah," he replied. "It's back in the shed. You're gonna like it, Scully..." Scully's brow raised in question. "It's a '94 Ford Explorer...dark red and ready to hit the road. I know how you love to look down on all the other cars on the road," Mulder teased. "Ha. Ha. Does it have a luggage rack on top?" "Yeah...why?" a puzzled Mulder inquired. Scully stood, preparing to go inside. "Because I may just have to strap you on top..." She walked out of Mulder's reach and went back inside, heading for the kitchen, her gait hindered by still sore muscles. Mulder stood and followed her. He walked over to join her at the sink, where she was washing out her own glass. She grabbed his out of his hand. "We should be fine for money," Mulder stated. "Skinner gave Forbes a suitcase for us...it's got ten thousand dollars in small bills in it." Scully shut off the water and grabbed the dishtowel. "I don't even want to know where he got the money..." she mused. "Me neither," Mulder replied. "If you're up to it, we should start packing stuff for the trip...then, we should get to bed." Scully wiped her hands on the dishtowel and then draped it over the sink. "Sounds like a plan...lead on, MacDuff," she gestured for Mulder to lead the way to the Explorer. Three minutes later, they stood at the rear of the four-wheel drive vehicle, the rear door was lifted up. "Ooooh, look, Scully, a CD changer!" "And here are the CDs to go with it," Scully responded, opening up the CD case. Mulder began to rifle through the titles while Scully moved to the passenger area, methodically checking the vehicle over. "We've hit the jackpot, partner...we've got Aretha, Billy Joel, Tori Amos.....and...the motherlode," Mulder smiled widely, waving the precious CD at Scully, "Don Ho's Greatest Hits!" Scully chose to ignore him, a very popular defense against Mulder's sarcasm. At least, she hoped he was being sarcastic. "Tiny Bubbles" was not on her list of "road trip" anthems. Mulder took the hint and they both settled down to work. ************************ Washington, D.C. FBI Headquarters August 18 1100 hours hours E.S.T. Walter Skinner paced back and forth in his office. He stopped, realizing that he was doing way too much pacing recently. Soon, he'd have to replace the carpet because of the "furrow" he had plowed. Why was it that the time he spent pacing was always directly and mathematically linked to Mulder? Skinner was almost at a loss. He had spent two days discretely backtracking the movements of his agents...and still couldn't figure out what the "it" was that the thugs who had accosted him were looking for. Scully had never told him many details about what happened. One reason was because there hadn't been any time. The other, and more important reason was that it was safer for everyone if he didn't know. He had picked up some information from the note he recovered for Mulder, but, still, he didn't have many answers. Then he realized that there were two places he had not looked. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. He had to find a secure phone. He needed to speak to the helicopter pilot in South Dakota...in person. **************************** Somewhere in Colorado 1100 hours After seven hours of driving, Mulder and Scully were thankful for the size of their transport. The Explorer gave Mulder plenty of leg room and, with Scully driving, he could fully recline his seat and catch a quick nap. Their decision to start off so early had helped them to make good time on the highway. It had also allowed them to get far away from the safe house before the sun announced their presence on the roadway. Mulder lay on his seat, his back toward Scully, as he peered east out the window across the browns of the Colorado terrain. If he turned his face to the west, his eyes would be filled with the greens and reds of the Rocky Mountains. It still amazed him how dramatically the geography changed out west. It wasn't like the east coast at all...where everything was green. His mental National Geographic special was interrupted when he heard Scully laughing to herself. "What's so funny, Scully? Do I have pillow head?" Mulder teased. Scully started. She had thought her partner was asleep. She sighed. "I was just thinking about the fake i.d.'s that Skinner gave us. Todd and Suzanne Rogers...Todd...meaning...well, "that" name which only our mothers can utter without penalty..." Mulder smirked. "Actually, I think it's funnier that Skinner has us posing as a married couple, Scully....and that Dr. Forbes had the foresight to give us wedding bands to wear." He mused, fingering the band on his left hand, rolling it around his fourth digit. "I wonder if we have any kids..." "Don't even go *there,* Mulder..." "And who's watching them now?" "Mulder! I still have that Don Ho CD, and I'd be happy to put it on right now." "Please, Scully," Mulder surrendered. "No Ho." Scully snorted softly in triumph and turned her attention back to the road. The road signs told her that they would reach Denver in another hour. They had just passed through Colorado Springs. They would keep going north on Interstate 25 into Wyoming...then they would head out onto smaller highways for their approach to Chantal. They were quiet for ten minutes, content to feel the passage of time in the rhythmic bumps on the road beneath them. Then, Mulder shuffled around in his seat to face her. "Besides, Scully," he began, as if no time had passed. "We're probably not even going to use those i.d.s anyway...not unless we have to....and speaking of 'having to,' I think it's time to look for a truck stop or something..." Scully nodded. "I think there's a town a few miles up the road. There should be something there." ******************************** Washington, D.C. 1500 hours (Eastern) "So, do you have any new information for me?" The man behind the cigarette spoke, each word exhaled with a cloud of smoke. "Yes. I believe we know what happened to the device." The nervous man shifted his feet, waiting for his superior's reaction. "Well? Where is it?" "We've determined that Skinner never had it. But, it looks as though he may know where it is now. He's booked on a flight to South Dakota." The man gave a self-satisfied grin as he continued. "He's tried to cover his route, going through different cities, but, that's where he's headed. It must be in the spot where the woman came back. We're just waiting for your instructions." "You idiot. You're wasting time! You already have your instructions. Retrieve the device and leave no witnesses." The sallow faced man leaned forward and smashed his smoldering stick in the overflowing ashtray before looking up at the man before him once again. "What? Why are you still here?" The small man rushed out the door without uttering a word. He had a plane to catch. *************************** CHAPTER FOUR August 18 33,000 feet above Illinois 2100 hours Walter Skinner's ten fingers impatiently tapped the armrest of his plane seat. This was the fourth seat in eight hours to suffer such a beating. He had been "plane-hopping" throughout the day...hoping to erase any trail, any evidence that would point to his final destination. He hadn't even trusted the Bureau's flight resources on this one. He was determined to get to the helicopter pilot who had taken him to Caveton and Chantal. All he needed was a few hours head start to beat those who he knew would try to follow him. He glanced at his watch for the tenth time that hour. Two more hours and he would be on the ground in South Dakota. Then, in a few more hours, he would have his answers...and, hopefully, be on his way back to D.C. He pulled at the knot on his tie, loosening it. He had a bad feeling about this journey he was making. The only comfort he could take was in the realization that, at least this time, Scully and Mulder would be out of harm's way. They would still be recovering at the safe house...wherever it was. Forbes had insisted that he be the only one who knew the location and Skinner had agreed. Right now, he just hoped that it was far, far removed from South Dakota. ********************************** Chantal, South Dakota 2100 hours C.S.T. They drove through the town slowly. As Mulder watched the road, Scully was on the lookout for anything unusual...anything that suggested a military or 'government' presence...something that might jeopardize their safety. Paranoia at it's best. Everything appeared to be normal. They had stopped at the first gas station in town to fuel up and to grab a phone book to find the Carneys' address. They quickly realized, however, that it had been unnecessary. They already knew where they were going. The town was almost exactly as it was in the "deserted version" they had spent time in. And while only Scully could remember all of it clearly, even Mulder found himself subconsciously making the correct turns to reach the Carney house. He made the last turn and Scully pointed out the window. "There it is, Mulder." He nodded and carefully pulled up in front of the house. The lights were on inside. He looked at Scully, waiting to see if she was certain, as his hand reached to turn off the engine. "We've gotta talk to them, Mulder. Let's go." She reached over and covered his hand with her own as he turned the key. The engine came to rest. They walked carefully to the front door, Mulder checking up and down the street to see if anyone was watching. Scully approached the screen door. The screen was closed, but, as was typical in the Midwest at this time of year, the front door inside was open. They could hear the din of the television set a room away...it sounded like a baseball game. Scully glanced at Mulder and he nodded. Scully lifted her hand and knocked on the screen door. It made a rather obnoxious rattling noise. She stepped back slightly, waiting for a response. Her eyes were caught by the front porch light above their heads. A herd of moths and buzzing insects flitted around the glowing orb...they bounced about, flirting with the light, not knowing they would be burned to a toasty crisp if they achieved their goal. Scully hoped that she and Mulder had a different destiny. She was almost startled when young Jason Carney came to the door. He pressed his nose against the screen and stared at her, his eyes becoming wide. Scully tried to break the ice. "Hi, I'm Agent Scully and this is Agent Mulder...." She was interrupted as Jason ran quickly from the door, yelling, "Dad! Mom! It's that lady! Come quick!" Scully could only shrug at her partner. "I take it we found the right house," Mulder remarked. Before Scully could respond, Rod and Cindy Carney were in the doorway, staring at her. Everyone stood still for a few moments, until finally, Scully spoke. "Mr. & Mrs. Carney? I'm Dana Scully...and this is my partner, Agent Mulder..." Cindy Carney was the first to react. She reached for the screen door and opened it for the two agents. "Of course! Please come in! You have to forgive us...we just weren't expecting..." Rod Carney put his hand on Cindy's arm to save her from babbling as Scully and Mulder entered the home. Cindy showed them into the living room. Rod took the time to look out the door carefully, then he quickly closed the front door and locked it. Scully and Mulder sat down on the sofa as Cindy directed them. As Rod and Cindy sat down across from them, Jason snuck back into the room and hid under his mother's arm. After a few more moments of awkward silence, Cindy, remembering her role as hostess, spoke up. "Forgive our manners, please," she turned to Scully, "It's good to see that you've recovered so well. Last time we saw you..." her voice faded, unsure if it was polite to continue. "That's okay, really," replied Scully. "And I should be thanking you for helping me...if you hadn't," Scully's own voice faded. Mulder jumped in. "If you hadn't, I would have had to break in a new partner." It was time to lighten things up a bit, but, he was still sincere. "Thank you for everything you did." Scully glanced over at him in surprise. It was a rare occasion that elicited those words from her partner's mouth. Rod Carney had watched and listened to all of this. But, he knew there was something else besides thanks that had brought the agents to their home. They were both too on edge...they were worried. "So, Agent Scully, Agent Mulder...is there something else we can do for you? That is why you're here, isn't it?" The agents were surprised by the man's direct style. But, the way he spoke told them that he would help them...he was someone who they could possibly even learn to trust. Scully nodded. "Yes, Mr. Carney. I need to ask you about something. Something I might have had with me when you found me..." Rod was puzzled. "What do you mean?" "I should have had a small device...kind of like a remote control. It may have been in my hand...or it could have been laying nearby. It's very important that we find it." Rod shook his head. "No. I didn't see anything like that. Did you Cindy?" His wife shook her head. He turned to Jason, noticing for the first time that the boy had scooted behind his mother's chair. "Jason? Do you know what Agent Scully is talking about? Did you see the device?" Jason remained silent, his head hung to the ground. "Jason Patrick Carney! You stand up and answer when I talk to you!" His father chastised. Jason slowly stood and moved up beside his mother's side. Scully watched as Jason came forward. It was obvious by the way he dragged his feet that he knew something he wasn't sharing. He wouldn't look her in the eye. "Please, Jason. I know that device looks neat...but, it's dangerous. And Agent Mulder and I need it so we can find the bad guys who hurt us. We have to stop them, and we need your help." Jason looked up guiltily. Was it really possible that *he* could help the F.B.I.? "Please, Jason," Scully prodded once again. The boy looked at her and then at his parents. "It's in my room. I'll go get it for you," he mumbled and then he ran down the hall. He rummaged under his bed, past the jars of his latest "bug finds," past the old socks that begged to be laundered. Finally, he grabbed it. Moments later, he carefully placed the device in Scully's outstretched hand. "Thank you, Jason." Mulder stood and walked to the boy's side, extending his hand. "You're a very brave young man. Thanks for this...and for helping Agent Scully when she was so sick. You saved her life." Jason shook Mulder's hand in disbelief. He had never thought about his role in saving Scully. Cindy Carney cleared her throat. It was time to stop talking and get some rest. "Jason, it's way past time for you to get to bed. Off you go." "And, young man," his father spoke sternly, "we will discuss this is the morning!" Jason nodded and took off for his room, still too stunned by Mulder's words to put up a fuss. Cindy turned back to the agents. "As for you two...it's too late for you to be driving. You both look exhausted. We don't have a spare room, but that sofa you're sitting on pulls out into a bed. I'll grab some pillows and sheets for you." She stood and started for the hallway linen closet. "Really, Mrs. Carney," Mulder started to protest, "you've already done so much..." "Don't be silly. It's the least we can do. Besides, the sofa bed isn't exactly the Ritz. Actually, it's kind of lumpy....and we'll not have you go off and get into an accident cause you're too tired to see straight." Rod turned to the agents as he got up to leave the room. "I wouldn't argue with my wife if I were you...she doesn't like to lose." Mulder turned to Scully, watching for her signal. She shrugged and stood, turning to remove the sofa cushions. "Thank you, Mr. Carney. You're right. We do need to rest... But, we'll need to head out first thing in the morning. It might not be safe for us to stay here too long," Scully stated. Rod paused in the doorway and turned back, nodding his grim understanding. "Look. I know you're in trouble, but somebody's gotta give you a hand, and it might as well be us. The way I see it, we're already involved. Agent Mulder, is your car still out front?" Mulder nodded. Rod's voice grew softer, not wanting to alarm his wife. "Then, I suggest you give me the keys. I'll move it around to the back of the house. No point drawing unwanted attention..." Scully spoke up. "He's right, Mulder. We don't want to put the Carneys in any more danger." Mulder agreed and gave the keys to Rod. "I'll put 'em on the kitchen counter for you to pick up...and I'll bring in your bags," he called as he unlocked the front door and headed outside. "You be sure to lock this up after me...I'll come in through the back." "Thanks again...we only have two overnight bags in the back seat," Mulder replied. Mulder walked over to the front door and locked it shut. Then he returned to help Scully. As she and Mulder opened up the small sofa bed, Scully saw Mulder waggle his eyebrows at her. "Just make sure you stay on your side, buddy. And no snoring for once." "You wound me, Scully. Just make sure you keep your drool to yourself." Scully's only response was to throw a seat cushion into his face. *************************** 2400 hours Rapid City, S.D. Capt. Charles Bolton sat in his apartment, beer in hand, unwinding from another long duty shift. Forty-eight hours on call at the base, four emergency medical airlifts...many hours spent in the hangar, playing cards, reviewing training manuals, cooking meals with the others. He was happy to be home for the next four days. He still hadn't had time to really get his bearings after the *incident* of a few weeks before. It wasn't often that he flew around a FeeBee VIP. And he had never found out what had happened to the woman they had picked up in Chantal. From the look he got at her, he seriously doubted that she was still alive. But, he wasn't allowed to talk about it...couldn't make inquiries. The man, Skinner, and his own supervisors had made that crystal clear. He sighed and took another draw from his frosty bottle of liquid relaxant. There was no point thinking about it. He knew that questioning orders only led to trouble...or worse. He would settle for following instructions, being ready to work in an instant...performing as told until he could retire and live a life of quiet fishing. The sudden knock on his door only startled him for a moment. He was used to late night calls and visitors. Such was the life of a pilot who could be called to duty at any time. He set his bottle down and stood up. Lucky they got him while he was still in the middle of his first brew, he thought, or else he wouldn't be fit for duty. As he got to the door, he didn't even bother looking through the peep hole...he knew it would be someone from work. He quickly found out how wrong he was. And he would soon pay the price for that mistake. ******************************* CHAPTER FIVE August 19 Carney Residence 0100 hours Mulder lay flat on his back, staring at the odd shadows painted on the ceiling, courtesy of the night light in the hallway. Exhausted as he was, it was impossible to sleep when he had so many questions churning through his head. Questions about what had happened and what would happen. "You can't sleep either, huh?" Scully asked as she rolled over to face him. "Nope. What are we gonna do with that device? We need to know who built it...find out what it can do..." "First, I think we need to find out *what* it is, Mulder." "*What* it is....it just might be our hard evidence of alien technology, Scully. And, it may just take us to more evidence, actual life, if we use it correctly." "What do you mean, 'use' it? Mulder, we have no idea what we're dealing with here...." "Exactly my point, Scully. And we don't have the time, or the connections, right now to *study* it. Remember, we don't have access to any labs...the only way we're going to find answers is by using the device." Scully sighed and rolled back onto her side, away from Mulder. She knew he was right. They had no way to study the device...no way to contact anyone else that was capable of performing an analysis. It left them with two options: use it or don't use it. And the only way to find out anything new would be to use it. She just hoped that they'd survive the experience and have a chance to share what they learned with someone else. ***************************** 0130 hours Rapid City, S.D. Walter Skinner pulled onto Jackson Street and began to look for Charles Bolton's apartment building. His gaze was caught by several emergency vehicle lights down the block. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. He kept glancing at the building numbers even as he proceeded to the scene of activity. As he pulled to a stop, his fears were confirmed. The medics and police were milling in and out of the building he was headed for. He walked up to one of the officers and pulled out his F.B.I. identification. "Assistant Director Skinner, F.B.I....can you tell me what's going on here?" The officer was a little shaken by the Skinner's presence. After all, the scene inside it hardly seemed to warrant federal investigation. "Just some guy upstairs who shot himself...apparent suicide." Skinner grimaced. "What is the victim's name?" The officer looked down at his 007 notepad for a moment, then looked up. "Charles Bolton..." Skinner had barely heard the last name before he was bounding up the stairs into the building. He worked his way through the police lines until he came to the correct apartment unit. One look at the scene told him what he wanted to know. Bolton had been tortured for information. His shoes and socks had been put back on, but Skinner could see the blood beginning to drip to the floor from the dead man's feet. Certainly, the local police would figure that out soon enough...as soon as the body was moved. But, right now, he had to move. There was only one reason Bolton would have been tortured. To find out where he had flown Skinner that night...to find out where Scully had been. That meant that the Carney's were in danger. He ran out the door and sped to his car. *************************** 0230 hours The Carney Residence Just as Scully was finally about to drift off to sleep, Mulder's voice rumbled again. "You know what, Scully?" "What?" Scully groaned. Mulder grinned in the dark. She couldn't sleep either. "I was just thinkin'...South Dakota wouldn't be such a bad place to settle down..." Scully grabbed her pillow from under her head and smothered it over her ear, tucking her head into the mattress. "Clear, open skies...easier to watch for Reticulans...chatting on the front porch every night..." "Mulder," Scully murmured from under her pillow fortress, "You said that about New Mexico..." "I know, I know. And, true, New Mexico has its own fine points. They've got Roswell, after all...if you settled down there, you would probably find out that your neighbor was an alien..." "Mulder, I have no doubt that if you settled there, you would *talk* all the aliens into fleeing for their home planet in order to escape being tortured to death by lack of sleep." Mulder pouted for the next ten minutes. ************************ 0245 hours The heavily armed men were completely covered in black clothing. They stood at the ready, waiting beside their helicopters as their superiors made the last minute checks. Any minute now and they would begin their clean-up operation. They could smell it in the air. ************************ 0300 hours Carney Residence The phone rang twice. Mulder sat up, listening to the rumble of Rod Carney's voice as it echoed from the bedroom into the living room. He nudged Scully. "What is it now?" She moaned. He nudged her again. "Get up, Scully!" Scully immediately recognized the serious tone in her partner's voice. She pulled the pillow off her head and sat up beside him. "What is it?" she whispered. "The phone was ringing...something's up." They waited quietly for a moment. Then, they saw Rod's shadow in the hallway, moving toward the bathroom. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Carney?" Mulder called out softly. The shadow paused and then trudged toward the living room. "Nah...I don't think so. Wrong number." He scratched his tired head while stifling a yawn. Mulder and Scully exchanged one look and started moving, grabbing their shoes and socks...quickly moving to make the *bed*...to erase any signs they had been there. Rod stood, watching them. His senses finally returned. They were in trouble. Mulder ran into the kitchen and grabbed the keys to the Explorer. He ran back to the living room and handed the keys to Rod. Scully stopped her movements and stared at him. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Scully, we don't have time! Rod, you take the Explorer. They can't find it here. Put Cindy and Jason in your car and send them to some place safe." Rod hesitated. "But, what are you two gonna do?" Mulder grabbed the device from the coffee table and locked eyes with Scully. "We have another plan...one that will hopefully distract everyone from you. Now, where did you find Agent Scully?" Rod pointed to the back door. "Out back, in the shed." "Now..you get moving!" Mulder insisted. Scully's stomach dropped to the ground. Mulder was going to get his way...he'd get to play with a device they didn't know anything about...and she had to go along because there didn't seem to be any other option. They were already wasting time just discussing the matter. She began to think that it would have been easier if Mulder *had* settled down in Roswell. Rod ran down the hall and gathered his family. As they ran around for keys and wallets, Scully and Mulder ran out the back door to the shed. Mulder threw open the door to the shed. They were quickly assaulted by the musty, cut grass smell that infested most Midwestern storage sheds. They turned at the noise of two car engines starting. Rod took off in the Explorer, and they could see the headlights of the Carney's station wagon as it headed down the road. Mulder moved to stand where the moonlight could illuminate the device in his hand. "Scully, which of these buttons does what?" Scully grabbed his arm and put her hand on the device. "This white button...that's the one that brought me back here...the one that sent you back, too." "Been there, done that...." Mulder muttered. Mulder ran his thumb lightly over the second button. "What about this black button, Scully?" Scully's eyes widened. She hated it when she just *knew* what her partner was thinking. "Mulder, that's the one that Ryder said *not* to use. He said we didn't want to go there..." Mulder looked up to the sky. A faint thumping sound seemed to fill the air. Quickly, the sound was growing. "Helicopters, Scully! We gotta do this now!...And I know that I don't want to go back to that place we were before. I opt for the *unknown.*" "So, tell me something I *didn't* know, Mulder..." Mulder grabbed Scully in his arms and pushed the black button. ****************************** CHAPTER SIX Chantal, South Dakota 0310 hours The low thunder of the helicopters rumbled through the air, shaking the earth below. At the same moment, several trucks sped down the road, their racing engines adding fuel to the din. One minute later, darkened figures poured out of the vehicles, swarming like fire ants across the Carney farm. They oozed into the house, fanned out across the back field...they converged on the shed. The operation took less than thirty seconds. A lone figure ran from one of the helicopters toward the shed, where the leader stood. "Sir, this is where we read the energy surge." The leader grimaced. They were too late. But who had used the device? "Where are alpha and omega units?" He demanded. As the second man began to respond, the answers drove into the back field. His men jumped from their trucks...and from the red Explorer, which now had several large dents in its side panels. They dragged all three of the Carneys back into their house. The leader smiled. Now, he would get all the answers he needed. ************************ 0325 hours Walter Skinner sped across the narrow country road, ignoring the protests of his tires as they yawed their way toward the Carney home. He couldn't help the feeling of dread that was building in his stomach and progressing to his throat. His repeated phone calls to the house had all gone unanswered. And now, his last attempt had not even rung through. The line was simply dead..."temporarily out of service" as the recorded voice intoned. As he rounded one last curve outside of Chantal, he saw his first clue as to what had happened to the Carney's phone...and the faint thrumming in the sky above told him who was behind it...the vultures were making good their escape. The blue-red glow flickered on the horizon. As he drew closer, he could see the fingers of flame licking at the trees and the sky. The roar of the inferno quickly replaced any remnant murmurings of the fleeing shadows. He slammed on his brakes as he pulled onto the Carney's front lawn. By now, several men from neighboring farms were also arriving...hoping to help. Skinner jumped from his car and started to run to the front of the house, but he was immediately driven back by the intensity of the heat. He threw his arm up to protect his head and face. The waves radiating from the flames made it feel as though his skin was melting. All Skinner could do was move behind his car, joining the neighbors who could only stare in disbelief. Two of the men began to call out, hoping the Carney family was merely in the back field...but, their hopes faded quickly when there was no response. Skinner joined one of the men and ran around to the back, giving a wide berth to the now collapsing mass of fire. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the car in back. Despite the heat, a chill ran down his spine. He saw the Explorer, its red paint beginning to blister as the flames tickled its hide. He saw the New Mexico plates. Out of place. And he knew. Mulder and Scully were here. He stared at what remained of the house. There was no way there were any survivors. He was too late. ************************** "Somewhere Else" Mulder shook his aching head, his eyes squeezed shut, hoping to force the foggy pain out of his body. As it slowly faded, he soon became aware of another, strange sensation. The ground beneath him seemed to be awfully soft and lumpy. His hands moved under his chest, in search of more clues as to where he was. Within moments, he realized that the "ground" was not what he previously thought. Because "ground" did not normally have silky strands of hair and soft, warm skin. His eyes flew open to see the face of his partner lying beneath him. He quickly rolled off of her, to the side. "Scully!" He rasped as he nudged her shoulder. She didn't move or make a sound. Mulder blinked his eyes, squeezing them open and shut, trying to clear his vision. He moved to his knees, kneeling over her. "Scully," he urged her to wake up as he continued to shake her shoulders. When she still hadn't responded, he frantically felt for the pulse in her neck, even as he placed his other hand on her chest and leaned over, listening, feeling for her breath. He gave a sigh of relief as he found them both and sat back on his heels. Gingerly, he brushed the hair from her face. Then, he gently lifted her head and moved it into his lap. As her head tilted, a trickle of blood began to flow from her nose, crossing her lips. Mulder tried not to panic as he groped for something to wipe the blood away. Finally, he used his own shirt sleeve to carefully daub the flow, which seemed to have ceased as quickly as it had begun. As he continued to clean her face, he was relieved to see that the color in her face was improving. He hoped that this was a sign she would be wake up soon. And, then, maybe she could explain what was wrong with her. For now, he could only guess that Scully must have hit something when they *landed* here...wherever "here" was. Maybe her small nose had been knocked against his hard head. Or, perhaps, she had been exaggerating the rate of her recovery...maybe she hadn't been well enough to go running off with him once again, in search of answers to the questions they were only just beginning to form. Whatever the cause, once again, he was disgusted with himself for getting her into this mess. As he absently stroked her forehead, he finally took the opportunity to take a look at their surroundings. It was a small town...a dusty small town...a dusty small Southwestern town from the feel of the heat and the color of the ground. He glanced at the sky. From the sun's low position and the haziness of its rays, it appeared to be about six a.m. He and Scully had *landed* on a street corner on what appeared to be the edge of town. The question now, of course, was "what" town? For the moment, they appeared to be safe where they were. Still, ever cautious, Mulder decided to find them some cover. He carefully lifted Scully in his arms and moved a few yards down the block to a bench that sat underneath a large shade tree. He set Scully's limp form down on the bench, leaving her head to rest in his lap. To anyone passing by, they would simply appear to be a couple that had stopped to rest. There were no signs of people or movement, other than one lazy dog that graced the doorway of a nearby two-story building. But, Mulder found himself glad to see that dog. That meant that there were probably people nearby...not like their *trip* to Caveton. The street was lined with typical small town businesses...a barber shop, a mercantile, a diner... nothing unusual. But, then the unusual, which always followed Mulder and Scully closer than their own shadows, announced its presence. A 1946 Packard, in near mint condition roared down the empty street. It was followed by a 1939 Ford truck that had certainly seen better days. The truck stopped one corner down from where they sat. A man, wearing jeans, a short sleeved checkered shirt, and sporting an oil-slicked short hair cut, jumped out and moved to the back gate of the truck. He removed a bundle of papers and threw them on the curb in front of the mercantile. Then, he jumped back into the driver's seat and took off, continuing down the street. Mulder looked down at Scully's face. Her breathing was smooth and even. He looked back down the street to the bundle of papers. Finally, his curiosity won the day. "Scully, I'll be right back. I'm gonna try and find out where we are," he whispered softly as he stood, carefully lowering her head onto the bench. He was about to walk away, when his conscience got the better of him. He couldn't leave her like this, her head against the hard wood of the bench slats. He quickly shrugged off his sweatshirt and folded it up, then he lifted her head and placed the *pillow* beneath it before lowering her head once again. Satisfied that he had fulfilled most of his gentlemanly duties, he jogged down the street to the mysterious papers. As he neared the stack, he could see that it was a bundle of newspapers. At last, he had a stroke of luck! He could find out where they were. He pulled away the brown paper that protected the top copy...and stared in disbelief. It was the "Roswell Gazette"...they were in New Mexico...but, the date made his heart jump into his throat. It wasn't possible. "July 2, 1947." THE END of Part Two.......... ************************************************ ************************************************ WHEN A TREE FALLS III: A TREE GROWS IN ROSWELL... by mabtng ************************************************ ************************************************ CHAPTER ONE "July 2, 1947." Mulder continued to stare at the newspaper. As he absorbed the words before him, his stomach began to perform slow flip-flops...like a kid at 12:01 a.m. on Christmas morn. If this was true...if they were really *really* in Roswell on the eve of *whatever* happened...the eve of one of the most questioned and investigated unanswered mysteries... He found it difficult to contain the shout that wanted to explode from his chest. But, one look back toward his partner was enough to sober him and reign in his excitement. He folded the paper under his arm and quickly moved back toward the bench. As he neared, Scully began to move. Mulder quickly knelt down beside her and supported her head with his hand as she tried to roll onto her side. Her eyes slowly fluttered open. She stared through him for a few moments before her vision seemed to clear and she could focus on his face. Their eyes locked for a moment. Then, without uttering a word, Scully began to push herself up on her elbows, trying to sit up. Mulder knew enough not to try and keep her down...his hand stayed at the nape of her neck, supporting her efforts. Once she was sitting upright, Scully closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the bench. She brought her right hand over her eyes and rubbed them lightly...finally bringing her fingers together to pinch the bridge of her nose. She couldn't imagine why she had such a killer headache. It started at the back of her skull and rammed its way through to her sinuses. She let her head fall back, hoping against hope that the pressure would drain away. Her hopes were quickly dashed. In the meantime, she was becoming acutely aware of Mulder's eyes piercing through her personal space...trying to interpret her every move...her every facial tic. It was time to let him back into her world. She slowly and painfully lifted her head upright and opened her eyes. As expected, Mulder's face was inches away, his eyes begging her to speak...to say anything. "Don't worry, Mulder. I'll live." Her voice was considerably raspier than she would have liked. She tried to clear her dry throat. Mulder started to stand. "Let me go try and find some water or something, Scully..." he began. Her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, staying him. "Wait, Mulder..." Scully interjected as she finally began to take in their surroundings. "Before you go anywhere...perhaps you better tell me where 'anywhere' is? Where are we this time?" Scully had a hundred other questions....like how she ended up on this particularly hard bench...but, the one she uttered seemed sufficient for now. Mulder hesitated. Scully's eyes still did not seem to be entirely glaze-free. "Maybe we should wait a sec until you're more in the here and now..." "Mulder! How can I be in the 'here and now' if I don't know where the 'here and now' is?" Scully demanded. As she stared at him, her brow softened and she smiled in recollection. "Is it just me, Mulder? Or have we had this conversation at least once before?" Mulder smirked warmly and knelt back down beside her, removing the newspaper from under his arm and unfolding it for her. She took the paper from him and read the front page. He watched as her eyes widened, her right eyebrow lifting slightly as she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. He smiled weakly. When she still did not say anything, he raised his hands in surrender..."Hey, partner...I really had no hand in this one...although, it sure is an added bonus!" "You were the one who pushed the button, Mulder..." "True...but neither one of us had any way of knowing where we'd end up...now did we?" Scully sighed in response. Mulder was right, of course. However, she now knew that her upcoming role would be to keep an eye on the *little boy in a candy shop...on second thought, make that a strip club...* and she wasn't exactly feeling up to par. Silently she wondered how long it would be before the "little boy" before her started tugging at her sleeve, urging her to run off and seek out the prize-packed pinata of pinatas...the "let's see what's behind pastie number one"...that holy grail of UFOlogists everywhere. *THE* flying saucer. She was certainly surprised when Mulder took a different route. "Are you sure you're okay, Scully?" He leaned into her, tilting her head up with his hand, looking into her eyes, checking to see if her nose had really stopped bleeding. "Maybe we should go find the local doctor or something and get you checked out..." "Mulder," Scully sighed. "I *am* a doctor....I'll be fine. I'm just a bit tuckered out...understandable, I think." He nodded doubtfully. "Scully, you were really out of it for a while...and your nose was bleeding..." Scully's eyes widened a bit at that news. She carefully daubed at her nose with her fingers. They came away clean. She held them out for Mulder's inspection. "Well, no bleeding now...I must have hit something when we landed." Mulder shrugged. Who was he to disagree with *Doctor* Scully? He looked up and down the street...the town was beginning to wake up...window shades were being released...doors were opened to accommodate the slight morning breeze. He stood and offered his hand to Scully. "Look...we should probably get away from the center of town...we don't know if we're really *alone* here, if you know what I mean." Scully nodded. They had no way of knowing if there were any of the Consortium's *goons* in place here...or if they had been followed. She reached up for his hand and let him pull her up. Neither one of them was prepared for what happened next. As her body was returned to its *upright position,* all of the color drained from Scully's face and blood began to pour from her nostrils. The world morphed in front of her eyes and suddenly Mulder had two faces. She thought that he was calling her name, but she wasn't entirely sure. Then, there was nothing. Mulder caught his partner in his arms before she hit the ground. He quickly laid her out on the bench once more. Once her head was lowered, it only took a few moments before her eyes fluttered open again. "What happened?" she muttered, as Mulder stripped off his shirt to staunch the flow of blood, even as he re-tucked the "sweatshirt pillow" under her head once more. "You tell me, Scully...the minute you stood up, you just wilted..and you're bleeding again..." He muttered as he continued to wipe the offending mess away. "Hmmm," she replied as she lifted her own hand to her sticky face. "Tell me something I don't know, Mulder..." Her voice was muffled by the shirt Mulder still held under her nose. She eyed his state of lessened attire. "Good thing you wore a t-shirt underneath...wouldn't want to flash the locals." Mulder had to admit it. Sometimes Scully was just as good at the badly-timed banter. This time, he didn't bite back. He recognized her attempt to distract him for what it was. "What can I do to help you, Scully? Should I get you something?" She tried to clear her fuzzy head and think. A sudden thirst was rising in her throat...in fact, her whole body felt bone dry. Definitely several pints too low on fluid. "Mulder, I think I'm dehydrated...or something. Maybe you should go get some water...or some juice...I doubt you'll find any circa-1947 Gatorade," she sighed. Once again, Mulder looked up and down the street, desperate to find a way to help his partner out. This time he noticed that the diner just a ways down the street had opened. He gently placed Scully's hands on his now-never-to-be-worn-again shirt and got her to hold onto it. "Hang tight here for a minute, Scully. I'm just gonna run down to that diner and get you something...." He took off before she could utter a word. Scully had tried to lift her head to mention that it might be a problem for Mulder to "buy" anything since they didn't have any post World War II era money...but, she let her head drop back once more as she realized he was already out of hearing range...his long, loping stride, stretched by a tinge of fear, having carried him almost to the diner's doorstep. She let out a soft sigh, hoping that Mulder could manage to stay out of trouble for the few minutes he was out her sight. Her eyes crossed slightly as she focused on his shirt...the one that now was covered with her blood. Despite the fact that her nose was still bleeding slightly, Mulder's *aroma* was coming through loud and clear...almost shouting to her from the fabric in her hand. She closed her eyes and smiled. It was one of those things about her partner that she never consciously considered...she usually only noticed it when it was absent. When *he* was absent. Her eyes popped open. She must have lost more blood than she thought...because her thoughts were on a fast and reckless path that was plastered with "Do Not Enter" and "In Case of Emergency Dial 9-1-1" signs. She almost giggled as she heard a distinctive robotic voice yelling, "Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!" She shook her head slightly. The thoughts scurrying around in her brain were just a little too bizarre. And the thought that she had actually contemplated *giggling* was a bit too much. Special Agent Dana Scully never giggled. Her usual facade was one that would make any stoic quite proud...if stoics ever felt pride. She did not have time to continue her own private philosophical debate on this point, for she was interrupted. "Scully!" Mulder whispered urgently as he placed his hand on her forehead. She hadn't realized how much time had actually passed or even that her eyes were closed until she had to open them to find Mulder leaning over her...once again. This was getting to be a habit. And funny, now that she was looking really close...his nose *was* really big. In fact, her eyes had to cross slightly again to focus on it. Even though she had explored the issue with some drunken friends in med school, she still wondered if what *they* said about men with big noses was true.... It took Scully several seconds and several more nudges from Mulder to register the fact that he had placed a small paper bag beside her...and was balancing two glasses in his free hand. "You're back, Mulder." She said this as a statement of fact. And for some reason beyond Mulder's grasp, she said it with a weird smile on her face. He nodded. "Where else would I go, Scully? I've got you right where I want you." He teased. "Do you think you can sit up and drink this?" She eyed the glasses in his hand...it looked like one held water...the other looked like tomato juice...or something. This vision woke her up and made her thoughts a tad bit more lucid. She braced her hand on the back of the bench and started to sit up. Mulder moved his right hand behind her shoulders to help...keeping an eye out to make sure she didn't pass out again...and to make sure her nose had really stopped being a fountain. Once her head was more vertical, she tentatively reached out for the glass of water. "No way, Scully...we're not risking a spill here," he insisted as he held the glass firmly up to her mouth, brushing her hands away. "I don't wanna have to go back there and explain again..." She looked at him, puzzled, as she began to slowly sip the cool water. She patiently waited for him to explain his last comment. He shrugged slightly and then turned his cheek into his shoulder...seeming to scratch a sudden itch there. "What happened? What did you tell them? And how did you get this with no money?" she croaked out between sips of water. "I'm not sure you really want to know, Scully..." he said as he hung his head slightly...almost sheepishly. Her silent response demanded that he continue. There were only a few people inside. I told the waitress that our car had broken down and that we were stranded...that we had had to walk through the night to reach town....and that you, my *wife*, were exhausted and sick." Scully nodded silently, absorbing Mulder's story. So far, she couldn't see too much of a problem...she had already become somewhat accustomed to the idea that part of their *cover* included them being a married couple. And, she imagined, if Mulder had given the waitress the same *if I just tilt my head this way a little and let my eyes melt a tiny bit I'll get anything I want* look he was currently giving her...the woman hadn't had a chance. She sighed. "So, Mulder, which part was I not to supposed to want to know? Or, did you have to make *payment* to the waitress some other way?" She tried to waggle her eyebrows, but her head still hurt too much. She raised the glass of water, which Mulder had by now relinquished to her ever-steadier grasp, and took another long sip. "Uh, actually, Scully....well, did I neglect to mention that one of the customers inside was the town doctor?" Scully closed her eyes. This meant trouble. She was sure of it. "And?..........." she prompted with a slight groan. Mulder continued without looking into her eyes...his right hand began to absently pick at small dusty areas on Scully's shirt sleeve while his left rested gently on her knee, his thumb unconsciously drawing small circles there, hoping it would keep her calm and relaxed. "And...the only way I was able to keep him from coming back here with me was to promise that I'd bring you to his office in ten minutes...And before you say anything, I know! I told him that you were..how do I put this?....afraid of doctors and that you would refuse. But, he insisted. I think if we want to keep our heads low, we better go ahead and see him." "But, Mulder...." "Besides, Scully, " he now pinned her with his eyes, "I think it would be a good idea to get you checked out. You haven't exactly been up to snuff recently, and we've got a ways to go. Let's see if he can help..." Scully lowered her head in defeat. Mulder was right. She felt like hell and the road was only going to get rougher. But she did have to call him on one thing... "But, *afraid* of doctors, Mulder? Really...." "Well, my dear partner, you must admit you seem to be averse to having your yearly physical...." he grinned. He really wanted to see Scully carry out this act when she got to the doctor's office. "Sure, fine....Now, Mulder, if you feel you've picked all the nits off my shirt...I'm done with this," she put the empty glass down. "And it seems to have helped clear my head...let's get this over with." Mulder stood and offered Scully his hand. When she hesitated to take it, he tilted his head *that way,* leaned over and whispered in her ear, "C'mon, oh dear wife o'mine. Humor me. The least we could do this is make this look real." He tilted his head back toward the diner. Scully glanced toward the window of the front diner. Yup, they had an audience. Besides, she absolutely did not want to let Mulder know how his breath on her ear affected her while she was in this condition. She would have to play out the scene as "Mulder-scripted." Her eyes narrowed in warning even as she took his proffered hand. Then, she suddenly pulled it back. "What is it, Scully? Are you okay?" Mulder immediately moved to kneel beside her once more. "I'm fine, Mulder. Really. I just remembered something..." her hands moved to the small of her back and Mulder's eyes widened with comprehension. "You better hold on to this for me," she said as she quickly and surreptitiously handed him her gun. "We wouldn't want to have to explain this to the good doctor..." Mulder took the weapon and slid it under his shirt, tucking it neatly into his waistband. It was a good thing his t-shirt was large and loose. "Quick thinking saves the day once more, Agent Scully," Mulder smiled. "Now, shall we try this moving thing again?" He held out his hand and once more she took it, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Mulder helped her slowly rise up from the bench. He was ready to grab her if necessary, his free hand now holding onto her small waist. She looked up at his expectant, anxious face and gave a small smile. "So far, so good, Mulder..." He looked at her with a slight twinge of doubt. "Okay, but let me know if your feeling at all faint and we'll stop...okay? The doctor's office is just down the street." She nodded and they headed off together down the street. To any passersby, they simply appeared to be a happily married couple, arms about each others' waist. ******************************** Office of Dr. Jonathan Wilder The loud jingle from the small bell over the door belied its size as Mulder ushered Scully into the front waiting room. The nurse behind the reception desk looked on as the tall, dark-haired man helped the flushed-faced woman onto the sofa. She was not surprised by the arrival of the strangers...Dr. Wilder had warned her of their imminent arrival. She stood and moved toward Mulder as he turned to her. "Hello," Mulder began. "I'm Todd Rogers...and this is my wife, Suzanne. I believe Dr. Wilder is expecting us..." Scully looked up with a mild twinge of surprise. In her current daze, she had forgotten all about their *new* names...it was a good thing Mulder had taken the lead. "Yes, Mr. Rogers. I'm Miss Travers, Dr. Wilder's nurse. Why don't you have a seat beside your wife and fill out these forms while I let the doctor know you've arrived." Mulder nodded as she handed him an old, weathered clipboard and a pencil. Miss Travers exited into the back office while Mulder sat down beside Scully. He stared at the forms for several seconds before turning to his partner. "Um...*honey?* I'm not quite sure what to put on these forms...." Scully stared at him for a moment. The whole *honey* thing was something new for her...somehow, sugar-coated, endearments were not what she expected from Mulder's lips... "Let me see....*dear,*" she replied as she took the clipboard from him. Mulder only gave an evil grin. This married thing might be fun after all. Scully sighed as she looked at all the blanks that demanded information. The *name* was not a problem...but, the date of birth was. What year was it now? 1947? She quickly did the math and wrote down *February 23, 1914.* That would be easy to remember...it was her real birthday and the year would make her thirty-three...accurate. She quickly dispatched with the rest of the questions. She left many medical questions blank, figuring that she could explain it away in this era by saying that she hadn't visited many doctors in her life...that she hadn't seen a need to. She looked over at Mulder, who was now idly drumming his fingers together and playing with the gold wedding band on his finger. She smiled. Some things were the same no matter what *time zone* they were in. Before she could comment, Nurse Travers entered the room. "Mrs. Rogers, Dr. Wilder will see you now...right this way." She held the door to the examining room open as she waited. Mulder quickly stood, turning to help Scully up to her feet, but she merely batted his outstretched hand away. She gripped the arm of the sofa and began to push herself upright. She had just started to straighten her knees when it hit. A sweat broke across her brow and, suddenly, the heat in the room was stifling...unbearable. Pinpoints of blackness darted before her eyes as they rolled back into her aching head. She couldn't hear Mulder calling her name as her imminent collapse started in earnest. Mulder gasped along with his partner as what little color she had drained from her face. His body reacted immediately. With one quick move, he scooped Scully up into his arms and hurriedly carried her into the examining room. Nurse Travers had seen what was coming and had already called out to Dr. Wilder. Dr. Wilder helped Mulder lay his unconscious *wife* onto the examining table. As soon as Scully's head hit the table, her eyes fluttered open. In her confusion, she tried to sit up, but Mulder was quick to hold her firmly in place with his hands on her shoulders. "Easy, *honey,*" he murmured into her ear. He tried to emphasize the endearment...hoping she would be coherent enough to remember their cover. He did not notice that the black device had fallen from his pocket as he leaned over. Nurse Travers did. She kept silent. Dr. Wilder leaned over Scully and smiled. "Hello, Mrs. Rogers. I'm Dr. Wilder...guess you're not feeling very well today, eh? Well, let's see what we can do about that." He turned to Mulder. "Mr. Rogers, we'll just be a few minutes while I examine your wife...you can have a seat in the waiting room." Nurse Travers had already started toward him, her hand poised by his elbow, ready to guide him outside. Mulder looked to Scully. His gut told him not to leave. She was still too *out of it* to keep their cover...and, he had to admit, he just did not want to leave her alone...plain and simple. Scully apparently felt the same way and, because of her current weakened state, she was willing, for once, to act on it. "No!" she called out and her hand shot out to grab hold of Mulder's forearm. Her eyes pleaded with Mulder and Dr, Wilder. Mulder's one look into Scully's eyes ensured that neither wild horses nor MIB's could drag him from the room. Dr. Wilder obviously recognized the look. He shook his head at Nurse Travers and she backed away from the *distraught husband.* The phone began to ring in the outside office. Nurse Travers reluctantly excused herself and went to answer it. As she closed the door, no one noticed her forlorn glance at the device that still lay on the floor. ***************** The examination had been fairly routine. Mulder had been relieved that Dr. Wilder was one of those doctors with "small town sensibilities." He had not required Scully to get undressed...he had merely loosened some of her clothing when necessary. Throughout, Scully had held a tight grip on Mulder's hand. Or, perhaps, it was the other way around...at this point, Mulder didn't care. He had been shocked when Dr. Wilder pulled her t-shirt up to reveal her stomach. When had she gotten so thin? Had he been that blind and let her get away with hiding the weight loss under baggy shirts? Apparently so. At least, the color had returned to her face and her attention was now focused, riveted really, on what Dr. Wilder was doing. Wilder had noticed the scar on the back of her neck and had tried to question her about it, his curiosity piqued...but Scully had quickly deflected the questions and explained it away as a childhood "accident." He had warily accepted her response. "So, Mrs. Rogers...you say that you've been having these spells for a few days now?" Scully nodded slightly. "I think I've just let the sun out here get to my head...not drinking enough water. I'm just not used to all the heat...we're from back East." Mulder smiled to himself. Scully was becoming a very good liar. It was a good thing he could read her so well...otherwise, he would be believing her story too. The doctor smiled knowingly, making the two agents uncomfortable. "How long have you two been married anyway?" Dr. Wilder probed. Scully looked to Mulder for help. "Almost a year..." Mulder sputtered quickly. Scully couldn't resist as she squeezed his hand. "Actually, Dr. Wilder, it's been ten months, two weeks and three days." She gave Mulder a look that was supposed to make a newlywed husband feel guilty for being so *forgetful* and unsentimental. It worked. Mulder hung his head. "I see," Dr. Wilder began...lost in thought. "Well, I believe we should run one more test...it might explain everything," he said with a knowing smile. Scully quickly understood the meaning behind the smile and almost choked. "No, Dr. Wilder. I don't think that's necessary..." She interjected. Mulder looked on quizzically...entirely lost. "Mrs. Rogers," Dr. Wilder spoke sternly, "We need to check every possibility..." Scully continued to shake her head. "Only if there's a star in the east..." she muttered before she could help herself. Dr. Wilder frowned, his brow creased. Then, in a most grandfatherly way, he patted her hand and his gaze pierced through Mulder, making him feel about two feet tall...although he still could not figure out why. "My dear, is there something that we should all talk about? You know I've been in family practice a long time...there's nothing you can't discuss with me..." Dr. Wilder's voice was soft and understanding. Suddenly, the light bulb went on in Mulder's head...his jaw hit the floor. This doctor couldn't possibly think that he...*they*...were having...*those* kinds of problems? Could he? "Sometimes, just talking about it can help..." Dr. Wilder continued. Scully was as mortified as Mulder. She had this urge to pull down her shirt...make sure she was completely covered. "NO! No...I mean...*that's* not a problem, Dr. Wilder. Really! Um..." Scully was desperately looking for the right words. Mulder came to her rescue. "What my wife means is...my job has kept us apart for most of the past four months...we just were reunited last week. I assure you that *that* is not a problem." Dr. Wilder smiled. He really hoped that someday, in the near future, folks would be less shy about talking about sex...it really was hard to be a doctor when no one would even say the word! In the meantime, Scully was giving Mulder a look that regularly made his stomach curl in on itself...but, at the same time, that look could make his heart skip a beat in...what? A kind of anticipation? He merely shrugged and smiled at her. Dr. Wilder patted Scully's hand once more and then moved away to his medicine cabinets. "Well, perhaps it is just exhaustion and dehydration. Either way, what you need is rest...and lots of fluids and plenty of food. You are way too thin, my dear." Mulder nodded his agreement, making sure that Scully saw it. Wilder returned to her side with a large envelope and an amber bottle. He handed the envelope to Mulder, who peered inside. There were several papers in druggist folds. "I've given your husband some powders that should help. I also want you to take this bottle of salt tablets...take one with every meal...that should help you keep some fluids in. Take the powders whenever you begin to feel weak." Mulder felt a little uncomfortable. The doctor had been very kind, but they had no way to pay him. "Um, Dr. Wilder...this is very nice, but..." Mulder began. "I know, Mr. Rogers...I heard your story in the diner...remember? Don't worry about the cost. This isn't much, after all. Besides, I always like to help you newly married types. So, have you got a place to stay here? I assume you have business here?" Scully looked to Mulder. He quickly formulated a vague answer. "We were hoping to have business here...what with the military base here...I figured there could be some work...but, no, we haven't found housing...is there a motel here or something?" "*Todd,* we can't afford...." Scully objected. Dr. Wilder waved his hand, silencing them. "My sister has a small place just outside of town. She's been looking for some help with some repairs...roof stuff...painting...I know she'd love to have a young couple like you stay with her for a bit." Scully glanced at Mulder. This was not a good idea. They needed to keep on the move. He ignored her. Right now, Scully needed rest, whether she wanted it or not. "That sounds great, Dr. Wilder. We'd really appreciate it...I know my wife could use the rest in a comfortable bed." Scully sighed in defeat. "Great! I'll just write out a quick note for you to give her...she doesn't have a phone yet...doesn't like 'em. While I do that, why don't you help your wife up and get her back into the waiting room?" Dr. Wilder exited into a small office behind the exam room. Mulder stood and moved to help Scully sit up. He whispered quietly into her ear before she could start her protests. "Please, Scully...just do this for me...for yourself. You need at least a good day's rest. We can't have you collapsing again. That would be more dangerous than us risking staying put for one day." His hand stroked the hair from her face, tucking it back behind her ears. She closed her eyes and sighed. She was feeling better...but, she had to admit...a nice bed sounded really good. And Mulder was right...it would be dangerous...especially to him, she thought...if she collapsed once the goons found them again. She nodded her head. "Okay, Mulder...okay. But, just for one night." Mulder smiled and helped her slide off the table. Her steps had more strength in them now. The fluids Dr. Wilder had forced on her seemed to have helped immensely. They walked back into the waiting room. Nurse Travers was still seated behind the reception desk. Her eyes carefully pored over Mulder...looking to see if he had noticed that something was *missing.* Scully stopped short against Mulder's side. "Oh, *honey,* I left your sweatshirt back on the table..." She started to turn, but Mulder stopped her. "Dear, you stay here...I'll get it." He quickly stepped back into the exam room and picked up his wrinkly sweatshirt from the table. As he turned to go, he spied the item on the floor and his heart did a horrible dance. He had almost blown it! He hurriedly stooped down and picked up the device and shoved it back into his pocket. *Thank God Scully had remembered his sweatshirt!* He thought. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was run out of the office very quickly. As he stood, Dr. Wilder came back into the room. "Oh...Mr. Rogers....here's the note. Just go west down the street...my sister's place is the white house just past the town sign. It's just a few blocks. I wish I could drive you so your wife didn't have to walk...but I didn't drive in today...." "Don't worry about it, Dr. Wilder. You've done more than enough...and Suzanne is feeling much better now. I'm sure she'll be okay to walk a short ways....we'll take it real slow." Mulder took the note from the doctor and then shook the old man's hand. "Thank you for everything." "Anytime, young man," he called after Mulder as the agent left the room to retrieve his wife. He heard the bell signal their departure and leaned back against the table. There was something *different* about those two. Of course, he mused, that military base brought all sorts of characters out of the woodwork....like that man last week....the one who had managed to fill the entire diner with cigarette smoke.... He shook himself and got back to work. ************************ Nurse Travers was out of her seat the minute the door closed behind the couple. She rushed back into the examination room, just as Dr. Wilder was going back to his office. He noticed her harried demeanor. "Is something wrong, Miss Travers?" "Uh...No, Dr. Wilder...I just lost my pen...I thought I might have dropped it in here earlier...." she lied quickly. Her eyes scanned the floor around the examination table. *Damn!* she thought. The man...Rogers....must have seen it and picked it up! Now she was in trouble. She had blown her one opportunity to get out of this stupid office and into more important areas! Wilder mistook her crestfallen look. "I'm sure we'll find it, Miss Travers. I'll help you look for it." She looked up and realized she had almost blown her cover again. "No! No, thank you, Doctor. I just realized that I must have left it at home this morning. In fact...I'm sure that's what I did. Thank you for your offer though." Dr. Wilder nodded. He had always thought Nurse Travers was a little...strange....ever since she had come to work for him six months earlier. But, he had learned, a lot of folks had strange habits. Before he could get back into his office, she stopped him. "Dr. Wilder? If it would be okay...I need to run down to the diner for just a minute or two...would you like anything?" "No, no. You go ahead. Mrs. Fuller and the baby aren't due for another 30 minutes or so....you go right ahead." With that, he went into his office and closed the door. Nurse Travers grabbed her sweater and headed out the door...headed in the opposite direction from the diner. ********************************** CHAPTER TWO Northwest edge of Roswell, New Mexico 0930 hours The two wayward agents stood silently in front of the friendly, two-story house, giving it more than a *once-over*....more like a five-times over. Dr. Wilder had been correct. While the house was obviously loved, it was in serious need of some repairs...beginning with a good painting. Even the white-washed picket fence, which looked a little strange in the Roswell landscape, needed another *washing.* The old rocking chair on the front porch was swaying in the slight breeze that swept over the desert plains from beyond. That same breeze brushed across Mulder's hot, dry face and moved on to lilt across his partner. He looked down at Scully. She had been quiet for most of the walk from the doctor's office. He had figured that she was concentrating on using all her energy to simply walk...no sense wasting it on conversation. And, looking at the sweat on her brow, he had figured right. He brushed the back of his hand across her forehead. She gave him a smile that he recognized. One that said "I'm fine..." and several other determined things at once. Mulder shifted his grip around Scully's waist as he moved to open the front gate. The rusty hinges squeaked predictably, announcing their presence. "I'd say your first job will be with an oil can, Mulder," Scully teased, albeit half-heartedly. "Listen, *honey,* I always promised you a house with a white picket fence...but I didn't say anything about the condition." The gate swung shut behind them with a loud clack...and that was when Mulder noticed the name on the mailbox. And that was also when Dr. Wilder's sister came out of the house through the tightly sprung screen door. "Hello, there! I thought I heard the front gate...of course, anyone could hear that for miles....you're not from around here, are you? Can I help you?" Mulder spoke first, his arm tightening a little around Scully. "Yes. I'm Todd Rogers and this is my wife, Suzanne. Dr. Wilder sent us over...he said you might have a spare room in exchange for some work around the place?" The woman nodded slowly at him, even as she examined them from head to foot. She found herself feeling sorry for the pair. They seemed like a very nice couple...one that had obviously fallen on some hard times. And the young woman, Suzanne...she seemed to be ill. Of course, that was probably why they had been to visit her brother, she reminded herself. And, if her brother sent them her way, then they had to be all right. Her brother had a special ability...he could read people. He knew where their hearts were. She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward. "My name is Hattie Brazel. And *do* I have some work! Why don't you get in out of that hot sun and come on inside. I can show you the room and we can discuss the details over some coffee or something." Mulder smiled warmly and nodded. He already liked this woman...and he was looking forward to seeing if her name was just a coincidence. He gently led Scully up the front steps and into the house. Hattie was already holding the screen door open for them and she was quick to point them over to the sofa in the front room. "You two sit for a second and I'll be right back with the drinks..." She turned to Scully. "You don't look too well, honey...can I get you something to eat? Anything to help you feel better?" Scully shook her head slowly and politely. Years of good manners were too instilled in her to accept the offer. "Now, Mrs. Rogers...I'd be happy to fix up some breakfast for you two...I don't get too much company and I like to cook...and , to be honest, you both look like you need some home cooking!" Mulder really liked this lady. "That would be great, Mrs. Brazel...and thank you." "Think nothing of it...and the name is Hattie." She started for the kitchen. Mulder eased Scully into the sofa that was covered with frilly-knit afghans. She quickly let the deep, comfortable piece of furniture absorb her aching body. She opened her eyes a few moments later and pierced her partner with an inquisitive gaze as he sat down beside her. "What??" Mulder queried. He knew that look...it usually preceded a lecture. "Just wondering what has your nose up and sniffing...and don't even try and deny it. I know that look." Mulder sighed. He was busted...again. "I just was wondering about Hattie's last name....Brazel. Does that ring a bell with you?" Scully's eyes squinted in concentration. "Hmmm. For some reason, it does...but I have no idea why...so...why?" "The name of rancher...the one who found...finds...the crashed *object* here...his name was Mac Brazel." No further explanation was necessary. Now all Scully had to do was keep Mulder from totally embarrassing himself...and her...and keep him from rushing into a sure-fire stupid, reckless mission...again. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and said a silent prayer. ************************** Garage behind Main Street Downtown Roswell "What are you doing here?!" The man hissed as he quickly shut the door to the back alley, but not before he peeked out to make sure no one was watching. "I'm doing my *job,*" Nurse Travers responded sharply. "I told you never to come here...it's too risky. We can't let people to even begin to suspect anything about our project here..." The man began to pace back and forth, drawing his hands through his greased back hair. He wiped his slimy hands on his pant legs in disgust. When he was upset, it was easy to forget some of the nastier habits of this era. They were almost as nasty as some of the things he had to do for *them.* He stopped and turned to the woman before him...her crisp, starchy white uniform completing her severe demeanor. *Nurse Ratchet* definitely came to mind. "So? Why are you here?" He demanded. Travers lowered her voice, her eyes boring through him. For once, she had knowledge that he did not. She was going to relish every moment of this. "We've got two *outsiders* in town. A man and a woman...they came in to see the doctor this morning." The man eyed her warily. "How do you know they were truly *outsiders?* There is an air force base here...there's lots of folks who come here to find work." "Because they had a device...need I say anymore?" The man's eyes widened. This was trouble with a capital "t." Hell, it was more than that. And if he didn't take care of it....*they* would. And, they would then take care of him. And he knew that Travers, or whatever her real name was, would be leading the charge. She had merely been biding her time on this dusty assignment, waiting for a chance to jump up a few rungs on the ladder. She had no idea what she was getting herself into...and he wasn't about to tell her either. He loathed the woman in front of him...and everyone else just like her. He was so sick of all of this. "Where are they now?" His eyes narrowed, letting her know that *he* was still in charge. "Dr. Wilder sent them to his sister's house...the woman was sick. She had the classic symptoms. The doctor gave her some stuff that will help her a little...but we both know it won't be enough. They won't be going far." "Fine. That's all I need to know. You can go now...I'll take care of it," the man said grimly. "What about what I..." Travers started. "Enough!" he ground through his teeth. "I said I would take care of it. But, don't worry, I'll make sure *they* know about *your* work. Now, go back to your work...those two could go back to see Dr. Wilder, if the woman is that sick. You have to be in place...we can't take a chance of blowing your cover or making anyone suspicious." Travers seemed to want to say something, but she faltered, deciding it was better not to push her *superior-for-now* any further. She quietly slipped out the front door. She would keep a close eye on him...make sure he did his job right. If not.... Mitch Ryder watched the door close. This project was beginning to spiral way out of control. It had already gone too far from its beginnings...beginnings that he had thought were justifiable...almost noble, given the sacrifices he and others were making. But, now... And why did it have to all happen on *this* day of all days? Ryder grabbed his hat and keys and walked out the back door. He had work to do. *************************** Hattie Brazel's House 1100 hours "Mulder. I don't think this is a good idea. We should stick together..." Scully was quietly protesting. Mulder stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at the form of his partner as she laid on the large cast iron bed. "Scully, you know I have to do this. And you know that you're in no condition to go anywhere right now. It would be dangerous for both of us if you went..." "So, stay here, Mulder." Her eyes closed tightly, knowing his response to her request...or was it a plea? He knelt down beside her. "Look, Scully. Hattie asked me to go out there...I can't help it if her son is Mac Brazel...and that he has the supplies she needs for the house repair..." "And I can see you're really crying about it, too, Mulder..." she interjected. Looking again at his face, she spoke again before he could respond. "I'm sorry...that was uncalled for. But, Mulder *I* would like to see for myself, too..." "Well, knowing my luck, I won't see anything either...according to the history books, a rather nasty storm is gonna hit tonight...this is not going to be a 'nice trip to the forest,' There's going to be a lot of walking across rough terrain. You know that you can't go. And, you know that I have to." Scully sighed. There was no way to keep him at the house. And, really, it wasn't fair to expect him to. He had already wasted several hours taking care of her...hours she knew he would have wanted to use to explore...to seek answers. And, here they were, in the perfect position to learn some actual facts. According to all reports, *something* landed on Mac Brazel's land on this date...July 2, 1947... during a severe storm. She knew that Mulder had to find a way to be there...to see for himself. To answer that UFO/weather balloon/experimental aircraft question once and for all. And, in a way, she was a little bit jealous, and feeling betrayed by her own body. "I *do* know, Mulder. But, there's something we haven't discussed..." Mulder's eyebrow flexed, waiting for Scully to continue. "We haven't discussed the impact of our traveling back in time, if that's really what we've done...." "You mean all that time-space continuum Star Trek stuff, Scully?" Mulder teased, although he knew exactly what she was saying. "Exactly, Mulder. I don't know how fragile a timeline truly is...and neither do you," she added quickly, "but, I'd assume it would be safest to maintain a passive role here. Do you hear what I'm saying, Mulder?" "I agree, I agree," Mulder nodded seriously, but then added, "Would it help if I promise to be good, stay out of trouble, and refrain from carving my name in any trees?" "It might," Scully muttered softly, but with a hint of a smile. She knew he understood the gravity of their situation. She gave his hand a slight squeeze, making him look her in the eye before she continued. "And, *Todd,* we're getting out of here first thing tomorrow...and, you're taking this with you." She pulled the black device from under her pillow and put it into his hand. He started to protest, but Scully cut him off. "No argument on this. I'll be safe here. You're taking the risks. You need to have this in case you've got to bug out of there in a hurry...in case things go bad." Mulder still shook his head. "No way, Scully. I won't use this unless you're with me." She grabbed his hand. "And I won't use it if you're not here with me...so, you might as well take it. That way, I know you'll be back." He tried to read the expression on her face, in her eyes. What was that look, the one that just snuck up on him on rare occasions? He wasn't sure. The one thing he could read, however, was her determination. The only way she would let him act on his plan was if he took the device. He stood and shoved it deeply into his pocket. "Okay, partner. You win. I will be back by morning. You rest up while I'm gone, and then we'll get the heck out of Dodge...okay?" "Be careful, Mulder...please?" Mulder smiled and brushed the hair from her forehead. "Aren't I always, *Suzanne?*" Before she could respond, he bent over and placed a quick, light kiss on her brow. He turned and almost ran out the door...as if he were embarrassed by his rash act and didn't want to give her a chance to say anything. Scully watched him go, listening to his steps fall down the staircase...hearing the hum of the *old* Studebaker out front as he turned the engine over. Then, the sound of the wheels turning in the dirt driveway...then onto the road out front. Soon, the world was Mulder-silent again. ***************************** Noon Hattie Brazel Residence Roswell, New Mexico Dana Scully carefully walked down the stairs. Thanks to a nice soak in the "old-style" claw foot bathtub, she was beginning to feel some of her energy reserves kick in once again. Now, she wanted, needed, to find something to do. Something to keep her busy so that she would forget what Mulder had run off to do...without her. She reached the base of the stairs and peered around into the front dining room, looking for Hattie. "Suzanne!" Hattie exclaimed from behind her. Scully turned toward the living room. Hattie approached her, holding a whisk broom. She had apparently been working on the sofa cushions. "I didn't think you'd come down,,,did you have a nice bath?" "Yes...thank you. Between the bath and that fantastic breakfast you cooked for us...I'm beginning to feel normal again," Scully answered. Hattie looked at her with concern, searching for the physical signs to confirm Scully's claim. She seemed to notice some sort of healthy change, for she didn't argue the point. "Well, it's lunch time now. I wasn't sure if you were awake, so I already had myself a bite to eat...but, why don't you go have a seat in the kitchen and we can chat while I fix you up something to eat?" The protest was already forming on Scully's tongue, but, after looking at the set of Hattie's face, she realized it would be as useless as arguing with her own mother. She sighed quietly. She missed her mother. Missed talking to her. Perhaps it would be nice to just relax and talk to Hattie...kind of a female bonding-in-the-kitchen-over-good-food thing. One of those "trade secrets" that women kept from men...something Mulder would never understand. She followed Hattie's gesture and headed into the kitchen. Thirty minutes later, Scully was standing by Hattie at the sink, finishing up with the lunch mess, drying dishes. Hattie turned off the faucet and threw the dishrag over the towel rack. "Well, now. It looks as though you've got some color back into your cheeks. Think you'll be okay while I run into town? I've got a few errands to run. I'll be back in plenty of time to get supper started...although, I suspect it will just be the two of us. I doubt that your husband will be back before dark. In fact, I told him to just spend the night up on the ranch if it was getting too late to make it back tonight. Those roads are pretty treacherous in the dark!" "Sure, Hattie," Scully answered. "But, please, before you go...let me know what chores I can do for you around here..." Hattie looked at her warily. "I don't know...do you really feel up to it?" "Please," Scully almost pleaded. "I'm feeling much better...and I just need something to keep myself busy." Hattie chuckled. "Now I know for sure..." Scully could only give her a puzzled look. "Know what?" "That the two of you are newlyweds. Can't stand to be apart, can you?" She laughed again at Scully's blush. "No, don't worry about it, dear. I was a newlywed once, too. And I still miss my Harry...he died going on four years ago. But, let's go find you some work to do...keep your mind off things. Just as long as you promise that you'll stop if you get tired...I don't want my brother yelling at me!" Scully smiled. "It's a promise...and thank you." ************************** 12:35 p.m. The street outside Hattie Brazel's Residence Mitch Ryder sat in his Plymouth, waiting. He had seen the dark-haired man leave earlier. And, he could guess where the man was headed; but, he had chosen not to follow. The woman still had to be inside. So, he watched and waited for the right moment. That moment came the minute he saw Hattie Brazel walk out the front door. Her hat was poised on her head and her purse was draped over her arm. She was headed to town. Alone. That meant that the woman was inside...by herself. He waited until Hattie had walked to the end of the block and crested the small hill behind him, blocking her view of the house. Then, he drove his car up to the gravel driveway and killed the engine. He got out and looked up and down the street, pulling his jacket closed. There was no one else around. This was good. He strolled up the front walk and opened the gate. He wasn't prepared for the loud squeak. He hoped the woman inside hadn't heard it. Just in case, he slid the pistol in his waistband a little closer to the front. Scully was standing in the front living room, dusting the tables and mantel piece when she heard the gate squeal. *Hmmm. Hattie must have forgotten something,* she thought. She put her dust rag down on the table and turned toward the front door to see if she could help. She heard the front screen door swing open just as she turned the corner into the front entryway. "Hattie? Did you forget..." Scully's query was stopped abruptly when Ryder grabbed her from behind, clamping his hand down over her mouth. The gun pointing sharply in her back told her to cooperate. "Not a word," Ryder hissed. Scully nodded her acquiescence and he slowly removed his hand...but not the gun. "Where is it?" Ryder demanded. "Where is what?" Scully answered hesitantly. She actually had a pretty good idea what the man behind her was referring to. "Don't play games with me, Red. The device. Where is it?" "I don't have it," she answered truthfully. "*HE* has it, doesn't he?" Scully swallowed. This was not good. There was no way she was going to put Mulder at risk. "No. We lost it...I don't know where it is..." But, her hesitation made her prevarication plain. Ryder jammed the gun painfully into her ribs. There was no doubt they would be bruised. She gasped slightly with the painful reminder of who held the upper hand. If only there was some way to get to her gun upstairs. "Well," Ryder exclaimed, "guess we'll just have to go to him so I can talk to him myself then...." He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. For the first time she could see his face. Scully gasped. This was the man who had saved her life before! Her head reeled as she tried to make sense of what was going on. Ryder was dead! He had killed himself before her very own eyes...that meant...that meant that, in Ryder's life timeline, this was happening *before* the whole Caveton debacle. Ryder had no idea who she was...but, something must happen to change him...something that convinces him to help her and Mulder. The thought gave her some comfort. Now, if she only had some idea of *what* she was supposed to do to change his outlook. For now, she could only go along with everything he demanded...and look for the right opening. Unnerved by the woman's reaction to seeing him, he grabbed her by the hair and started for the door. "Wait!" Scully interjected. He stopped short. Who was this woman who would dare to argue with a gun pointed into her ribs? "What?" He growled. "Hattie...Mrs. Brazel. She'll be worried if she comes back and I'm gone. She might call the police...I should leave a note or something." Ryder pondered her statement for a moment before realizing she was correct. He dragged Scully over to the writing desk in the living room. "So...write something! Make it quick...and I'll be reading over your shoulder!" He leveled the gun at her head as she picked up a pencil and began to write. She quickly told Hattie that *Todd* had sent a man over to pick her up so that they could drive out the highway to where they had left their car last night...and she told her not to worry if she was late getting back. Ryder seemed to be satisfied with what Scully wrote. He grabbed the note and placed it on the coffee table. Then he motioned with his gun toward the door. Scully stood and walked outside to his car. She tried to surreptitiously look up and down the street...but no one was there to see her. Ryder opened the door and shoved her over to the passenger side. He made her turn around as he pulled a set of handcuffs from his jacket pocket. Then he cuffed her hands behind her back. The only positive thing, Scully thought, was that he had been careful to make sure that the cuffs were not too tight. When he was finished, he made her sit back in the seat and he started the car. They pulled out onto the main highway...and, then, Scully had no doubt that he knew exactly where Mulder was. **************************************** CHAPTER THREE Foster Ranch Some 50 miles N.W. of Roswell 1600 hours Mulder sat on the monolithic chrome bumper of Hattie's 1941 Studebaker President and tilted his head back to stare at the skies above. The smoothness and depth of the colors above were a sharp contrast to the rugged terrain below. Rocks, buffalo grass, scrub brush and dirt...apparently perfect for raising sheep, and not much else. Of course, from the military's standpoint, it was also the perfect place for an alien spacecraft to crash land. Just the right site for a cover-up. For one thing, it was hardly "easy access." The first few miles outside of Roswell were not too bad. It was obvious the road there was well-traveled; however, the minute Mulder had made the turnoff toward the ranch, he knew he was in for a bone-jarring, teeth chattering ride. It was a tribute to the quality of Studebakers that Hattie's car hadn't seemed to have given it a second thought, although, Mulder now suspected he knew the reason that there were *two* spare tires and a set of heavy chains in the vehicle's cavernous trunk. He ran his hand across the trunk hood. *Nope. They don't make cars like they used to,* he thought. The road, if one could really call it a road, would be virtually impassable after a rainstorm, which, perhaps, explained why, in Mulder's time line, it would be several days after the *crash* before Mac Brazel headed into town to report the incident to authorities. Mulder's gaze moved to the southwestern skies. Yes, there would be a big storm tonight. The wind, which would be described as stiff here under normal conditions, was really beginning to pick up. There was a darkening shadow across the sky just behind El Capitan, the mountain that loomed above everything else in the landscape here. Of course, by Colorado Rocky standards, it wasn't really a *mountain* per se...more like a really big, craggy, steep mound, covered with prickly pine trees...but, still, it was imposing in this landscape. It would be a very good landmark for anyone or any *thing* navigating through the skies above. El Capitan had a history of memories that no one could deign to imagine...it had been there before man, witnessed the movements of Native American tribes...seen the white man arrive to take up residence in its shadow...and, in Mulder's time, it had become a tourist destination for heartier souls, campers and hikers...and Boy Scouts looking for new merit badges. Mulder could not help but wonder what secrets it would hold about the night that was to come. "Quite a sight, huh?" Mulder jumped slightly, startled by Mac Brazel's friendly voice. "Yeah," Mulder agreed. "Guess we're gonna have some rain." "That might be a bit of an understatement, Mr.Rogers," Brazel remarked, his weather-worn face turning into the wind. "Those clouds are full of lightning...and the water's gonna pour out in barrels." Mulder simply nodded as he observed his host. Mac Brazel was a simple man. Actually, Mulder thought, *simple* was not the right word. *Straightforward* and *Back-to basics* were more fitting. His brown, leathered face was etched by time and the elements. His hands were large and rough, shaped by years of honest sweat and labor borne from necessity and pride. He was an honorable man...looking out for his family. It pained him to think about Mac's future...what was about to happen. The world of the Brazel family was about to be turned upside down...and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. From history, Mulder knew that Mac would end up moving away from the ranch to open up a business in a town away from the U.F.O. rumors...and it would be whispered that the "government" was behind the money Mac used to start that business. All things being equal, Mulder thought that it was probably the best course for Mac to follow. The Brazels were in no position to deny these men who could make entire towns disappear. But, it still saddened him to think of the knowledge that the man before him would have to hold inside...the decisions to compromise that he would have to make. Mulder turned once again toward El Capitan. It was time to leave Mac and seek out some answers. He had to distance himself from the Brazels...make sure he did not alter the choreography of things to come. The two men were quiet for a few moments. Mulder gazing at the landscape before him, Mac stretching out some of the kinks that had developed in his back from a hard day's work. "So, Rogers. You gonna try and make it back to town now...or, you gonna take me up on my offer to bunk down here tonight?" Mulder squinted slightly against the afternoon sun as he looked back at Mac. "I think I'll try and make it back this afternoon. Thanks for the offer, Mac...but my wife will get worried." Mac laughed. "Can't have that! But if you are gonna head out...you best do it now. No time to waste. Once that storm hits, you better be on the main road cause you'll get stuck on these back roads sure as spit." Mulder stood and moved toward the driver's door. He stopped short and pointed down the road. "Where does this road go?" he asked. "You mean the one you came in on?" Mulder nodded. "Well, not much of anywhere, really. Once you drive out of here and get on that main path...if you were to turn left, well, you know that way leads to town...but, if were to go right...that just heads over there to El Capitan. There's a few sheds out that way...a few miles down the road. Put there mainly for storage, but I've used 'em a time or two when I got caught out in bad weather. The road gets pretty bad after about a mile or so.." Mulder's brow raised in response to this revelation. Mac laughed. "Yeah, I know. It's not much of a road now! But, believe me when I say you'd wish for a horse after going another mile. Not much reason to keep up the path for cars and the like. Once we start getting rain storms...the ditches and ruts become gullies...just wash away the dirt. You gotta like driving on rocks out there." Mulder grimaced. Looked like he was going to have to do some hiking. "Well, thanks again, Mac. I better get out of here then." Mulder shook the man's large hand, saddened as he realized that he was one of the last to witness this man's innocence and faith in the way things were. Without another word, he got in the car and headed down the road. When he reached the main path...he turned right, towards El Capitan. ******************* Ryder watched the scene play out through his binoculars. He was not surprised when he saw the dark-haired man turn his car toward El Capitan. While he still did not know why this man and woman had come here at this particular time, he *had* been able to discern that they were from his own time. It didn't take a rocket scientist to notice the woman's hairstyle...and while her flannel shirt fit in with the ones worn in Roswell, he had noticed the "Eddie Bauer" label when he grabbed her at the house. Of course, since he *was* a rocket scientist, he had also noticed her shoes. Timberland hiking boots. Definitely from the 1990's. Scully shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside him. The handcuffs had been cutting into her wrists for the past two hours and things had moved past the point of pain. Her hands and lower arms had actually gone numb. She had been ever vigilant, looking for an opening...a chance to converse with Ryder; but, he had steadfastly refused to talk. His mind was totally consumed with his targets: Mulder and the strange device he held. Ryder had little interest in the prey that he had already captured. Ryder leaned forward and put the car in gear. Once again, Scully tried to find a semi-comfortable position as the vehicle lumbered down the bumpy road. She looked out the window at the ominous clouds rolling in toward them. Things were going to get nasty very soon. ******************** 1730 hours Mulder stepped up his pace as he walked down the old logging path. Mac had been right. After driving the first mile toward El Capitan, the road became worse. Much worse. And he had no desire to get stranded out here...or to do damage to Hattie's car. So, he found a small clearing to the side of the road and left the car there, satisfied that it was hidden from the view of anyone else trying to navigate the path. The terrain became more pronounced as he closed in on the mountain. The *road* wound through and around deep ravines...the forest cover was heavier. And, the road became a course of hairpin twists and turns...definitely not the sort of road he ever wanted to tackle behind the wheel of a vehicle. In most places it was so narrow that one car could barely eke its way through. He couldn't even imagine what would happen if two cars headed in opposite directions met. There was nowhere to pull off or turn around. One vehicle would have to drive in reverse over rocks and ditches until a small clearing was found. He shuddered at the thought. It was, indeed, a good thing that Scully had stayed behind in Roswell. She would have hated this trek. Now, as his "lope" became a full "trot," the rain began its descent in earnest. One thing about being near a mountain, the water always flows down...wiping at everything in its path. Looking at the scars in the logging road, deep furrows caused by runoff...he could see how bad things would be here within a few minutes. It was a good thing he had left Hattie's car where he had...and on high ground, too. He watched his steps as carefully as his speed allowed, not wanting to stumble into one of the furrows and break a leg...or, worse, trip and fall over the edge of the road into one of the many deep ravines. Then he would definitely be buzzard bait. His mind raced back to the many Roswell maps and photographs he had seen that depicted this area...where the bulk of the supposed "UFO" had come to final rest against a boulder. He was close...maybe a half-mile away. He could stop soon and find some make-shift shelter as he waited for the "main event." Suddenly, he stopped. What was that? Had he heard something? Something over the rain and distant rumbling thunder? He quickly climbed the muddy embankment to his left and moved behind the gravity-defying, stubborn trees that clung to the slope. ***************** Ryder cursed as, once again, the Plymouth slid across the rutted path that was swiftly becoming a river of flowing mud. The rain mercilessly pelted the windshield, cascading down the glass, making visibility almost non-existent. And, combined with the deluge, there was the normal problem of not knowing wheel location in a car with a huge front end and a straight-ahead construction. Nope. Sleek, slanted aerodynamic hoods that gave a driver easy vision of the road were not known in the 1940's. Scully had little desire to look out the passenger window as she braced her feet into the floorboard, trying to keep her body from flying about the car as they hit one deep hole after another. She had already slammed her head against the side post several times and she did not want any more repeat *starry vision* producing performances. The simple cloth seat belt that crossed her lap was of little help. She slid back and forth across the vinyl seats with each curve...and her head had narrowly missed hitting the sharp edged dashboard on at least two occasions. *Where was Ralph Nader when she needed him?* she thought. Once again, she struggled to release her numbed hands from the steel cuffs that held them firmly behind her back, even though she knew it was simply an exercise in frustration. She ventured a fleeting glance outside and immediately regretted it...the narrow path dropped perilously down a steep cliff...she couldn't even see where it bottomed out because of the inclement weather. She sucked in a quick breath. She would be history if they plummeted over the side. There was no way she could survive a crash like that with her hands bound behind her. Not a chance. She turned to Ryder. He was hunched up against the steering wheel, his hands with an unyielding grip on the metal circle before him, sweat beading down his brow which was furrowed in concentration and anger. Scully knew their only chance was if she could try and reason with him. He had to stop now. The car would not make it around the next bend in the road... "Please," she began. "We have to stop...we're not going to make it..." "Shut up!" he growled. He knew she was right...but his life was at stake...he couldn't let the man get away with the device. He punched the accelerator a little harder than necessary to drive home his exclamation. The car jolted forward, freed from another *pothole* and Ryder had to furiously turn the steering wheel as the car jumped and fishtailed closer to the edge. Scully persisted. "We can walk...whatever you want. I won't run away...just please, stop!" Something in her desperate tone broke through. It was time for him to stop being reckless and start exercising his usual logic. He moved his right foot over the brake...but, when he pressed down... Nothing happened. The brake pedal simply fell to the floor with no resistance. Apparently the brake lines had been severed or damaged on the road or they had simply worn out. Whatever the case, they were in serious trouble. Scully watched in horror as Ryder tried to pump the brake, trying to will it back to life. He tried to throw the transmission out of gear...but the shift was too stiff. The Plymouth picked up speed and began to jump over the ruts, only to land and slide sideways down the road. The curve was just yards ahead...and there was no way to bring the car under control. ******************* Mulder watched from the hillside as the car jumbled down the road, passing him. It was hard to make out the passengers because of the stormy darkness, but the large sheets of lightning provided just enough illumination for him to see his worst nightmare. That familiar flash of red hair...in a car that he now recognized was completely out of control. "Scully!" He jumped down to the road and ran after the careening, slipping vehicle. His eyes widened as he saw the road bend ahead. The car had too much speed...it was going to crash over the edge. As he ran even faster, he could hear the crunch of metal as the Plymouth continued to bottom out against the deep grooves, bouncing against the trees that lined the roadside. Things seemed to slow as he watched the dark outlines of the two passengers inside...their bodies being thrown right and left...their heads bobbing from side to side...front to back. And then, there was a tearing shriek of steel against rock and the car ricocheted off the last tree and flipped onto its side as it reached the lip of the abyss. "Scully!!!" Mulder screamed, falling to his knees as he watched the tail lights go over the rim. A heartbeat later, he was alone...gasping for breath, the rain crying its way down his face. ************************ In a span of less than thirty seconds, Special Agent Fox Mulder had lost the capacity for coherent thought. Though his body and brain were numb with shock, somehow he found himself pushing himself from his knees to his feet...stumbling toward the edge of the cliff. And the blackened abyss beyond it that had just claimed his partner. Scully. The mere thought of her name was enough to revive the nerves in his limbs and in his heart. The mud sucked at the soles of his shoes, stubbornly trying to keep him from his goal. His left shoe finally succumbed to its grasp and was wrestled from his foot. Still, Mulder continued the final few feet to the edge. Steeling his mind and his breath, he peered over the dark rim...not knowing what he expected to see, but desperately praying for what he hoped to find. At first, he saw nothing but the blackness from the storm. Then, with one revealing flash of lightning, he found the answer to his whispered mantra. The Plymouth had smashed some twenty feet down the muddy embankment and come to a teetering rest, still on its driver's side, its forward progress temporarily halted by an impossibly thin pine tree. A pine tree that was doing its best to bend over backward and release its unintended prey. Mulder squinted against the rain and could see the impending fate of the Plymouth and its occupants. Barely twenty feet beyond the front bumper of the car, the ground abruptly dropped off...and, this time, Mulder knew they would not be given a second reprieve. He could hear the loud rush of rain and debris as it ran down the slope into the chasm beyond. There was no doubt that it was a fatal drop for anything but water. His legs began moving without any conscious thought as he jumped and slipped down the steep path to the car below. Each step of his descent was marked by the scream of his partner's name. *************************** Scully groaned. Her world had turned on its axis and she was now wedged between the steering wheel and driver's seat, her head at an awkward and very painful angle against the roof of the car. While it was nearly impossible to think about anything other than the state of her own body, she was aware that someone... Ryder... was underneath her. She tried to move off of him, but her arms were still trapped behind her, the handcuffs biting into her wrists. She tried not to cry out as a sharp stab of pain ran through her left shoulder. Gingerly, she rotated the injured joint. *Good,* she thought grimly. At least it wasn't dislocated. She moved it again and winced. Or maybe it *had* been dislocated and had managed to pop back into place during the tempestuous journey to...well, *wherever* it was they had ended up. She raised her head to look out the windshield. She quickly regretted *that* decision. Even with the downpour outside, she could see the precarious position of their resting place. And she could feel the moans of the car as it announced its intention to continue its journey over the cliff ahead. All the car wanted was a little encouragement. Something like her or Ryder moving a little too quickly. They were in serious trouble. Scully bit her lip and began to inch her way past the steering wheel and off of Ryder, toward the back seat...or, to be more exact, toward the left rear passenger window. Sucking in her stomach muscles, she pulled her knees up and managed to hook them over the seat. She paused for a moment to catch her breath...and heard the most welcome sound that had ever graced her ears. Mulder's voice was unmistakable...and was unmistakably panicked. She smiled and thanked God once again for Mulder's uncanny timing. **************** "Scully!" Mulder hoarsely shouted as he dropped to his knees behind the crushed and shattered rear window. He used his hand to wipe at the mud, water and broken glass that obscured his view of the car's interior. He didn't even notice when a shard of glass pierced the side of his hand. Even though it was dark, he almost sobbed in relief as he made out Scully's battered but very much alive and conscious visage. "Scully? Are you okay?" he called. She laughed half-heartedly. Leave it to Mulder to ask such a stupid question. "I've definitely seen better days, Mulder... but, I have to say that *I'm fine* now that you're here." Mulder smiled softly and held her gaze for a moment before returning to the task at hand. He had to figure out how to get Scully out of the Plymouth before it slid any further. He looked around both sides of the vehicle for a solution. Going through the front windshield was too risky. If the car began to slide, anyone in its path would be crushed and carried away with it. The back window wasn't an option either. The left rear post had been crushed and there simply wasn't enough room for someone to crawl through it...even someone as petite as Dana Scully. He would have to get her out through the top...the right passenger door. It would be treacherous, but there was no other way. Mulder dropped back down to inform Scully of his plan. "Scully...we're gonna have to get you out through the top door..." Scully frowned. This was not good. "Mulder, you can't climb up there...the car will move! In fact, I don't know why we didn't keep sliding..." "Don't worry, Scully. You've got a tree holding you back..." Mulder prayed she wouldn't ask just how *big* that tree was. "Mulder, I'm not sure I can climb out that way...I'm handcuffed behind my back..." "What?" Mulder shouted. "What the hell happened? What's going on?" "Mulder," Scully quietly responded. "This is hardly the time to get into this. But, I *do* have company in here..." Mulder chastised himself for forgetting the obvious. He had *seen* the driver, after all. "Who is it?" He demanded. "It's Mitch Ryder, Mulder." Mulder's eyes widened. What was Ryder doing here? Wasn't he dead? But, before he could chew on this latest curve ball, the car and its alliance with nature interrupted. With a loud snap and a screeching of metal, one of the largest limbs of the abused pine tree gave way and the car began to slide toward the edge. "Mulder!" Scully screamed in panic. In spite of the pain, she desperately rolled toward the back window, trying to find a way out of the death trap in which she was ensnared. Mulder reacted on instinct. He wrapped both of his arms around the rear bumper and pulled with all of his strength. The car slowed, but still it inched forward. His feet frantically searched for purchase in the slippery mud. He gritted his teeth as his entire body arched in agony. He would stop the Plymouth...or he would go over the edge with it. He would not let go. He would not leave Scully. He would not let Scully leave him. He was screaming in frustration when he felt it...there was a tree root beneath his right foot. He threw all of his body weight to his right side. The car stopped, but he could feel through his trembling muscles that it desperately wanted to continue its trip. His left leg flailed through the mud, searching for something, anything to give him more leverage. Miraculously, his stockinged foot found a large rock. Carefully, he planted his foot upon it, testing it...it just might hold. He slowly adjusted his weight to balance on both legs...his right leg thanking him for the help. The car stopped completely. But, he knew he couldn't hold this delicate position for long. "Scully! I've got it! But, you have to get yourself out! Is Ryder awake? Can he help you?" Scully didn't have a chance to respond. Ryder answered the question himself. "I'm awake...but my leg is hurt. I think it may be broken." Scully rolled onto her side to face her *captor.* "Can you reach your handcuff key? Maybe if I can get out of these..." Ryder shook his head. "I already checked. The key must have fallen out my pocket when we rolled over..." Scully blew the wet strands of hair from her mouth, her face determined. "Then, we do this the *hard* way." She grunted as she rolled and used her momentum to sit up. She gasped for breath as her hands found the material of the roof. She could feel the metal framework beneath the cloth. Using it for leverage, she pushed herself onto her knees, ignoring the glass that embedded itself into her flesh through her ripped blue jeans. Outside, Mulder's strength was waning, his muscles beginning to shake with fatigue. "Scully! You have to hurry! I can't hold it much longer!" He bowed his head into his shoulder once before throwing his head back once more, arching his back, summoning up every ounce of power his body held. Scully did not waste anytime with giving Mulder a response. She placed her left foot on the *floor* and threw her body weight forward...propelling herself to her feet. She staggered for a moment and her head crashed into floorboard that was now the wall in front of her. As the stars before her eyes flickered out and her vision returned to normal all she could think was, *At least I'm not trying this in a Honda.* Scully carefully stepped toward the front seat and Ryder. "Look," she told him. "You have to at least sit up by yourself...then I can try and help you..." Ryder shook his head. "But my leg..." he protested. "To hell with your leg! It was *your* idiotic driving that put us here. Sit up now or you'll be dead in about one minute!" Scully's face was red with anger and exertion. Her shouts spurred Ryder into action. If this woman could get up and yell like that with the injuries she had...then *he* could certainly ignore his leg for a moment. He sucked in a deep breath and, grabbing the steering wheel and seat back, he hauled himself up until he was sitting. He folded his uninjured leg beneath him and raised up on one knee. Scully grimly nodded her approval before she looked up at their escape route. But, now they had a new problem. The window was still intact and rolled all the way up. She looked all around her, searching for some way to get the window open. Ryder read her thoughts...and he had an idea. His hands searched the ground around him until he found the object he sought. He pushed Scully back from him so that he had a clear view of the window. "Stand back," he ordered as he raised his gun toward the window. Scully's eyes widened as she understood what Ryder was doing. She quickly turned her face away from the window. Ryder's finger stroked the trigger and the barrage of bullets smashed through the glass, disintegrating the obstacle to their freedom. The spent brass crackled against the broken glass that littered the "floor" as they hit the ground. Outside, the sounds of the gunshots startled Mulder, but he kept his strained hold on the car. *What the hell was going on? Ryder couldn't have...* "Scully!" He yelled. Scully realized she should have warned her partner before the shots. She shook the glass from her hair and shoulders as she called back to him. "We're fine, Mulder! We had to shoot out the window!" "Please, Scully...we might have another thirty seconds...I'm losing my foothold!" Scully looked down at Ryder. He laced his fingers together and offered them as a foothold to her. She looked at him questioningly. "C'mon! I'll boost you up and out. I'll be right behind you!" he shouted as the car began to loudly protest again. There was no time for argument. Scully placed her left foot into his hands, and as she pushed off, he lifted with all his might. Scully bent at the waist as she emerged from the window. The boost wasn't enough to propel her legs out of the vehicle. Her hands pushed at the jagged window frame behind her as her legs found the seat back inside and pushed. She squirmed until she was completely outside of the window. Her first instinct was to simply roll off of the car into the waiting mud below...but she doubted the Ryder could make it out of the car on his own. She rolled onto her back, something that would have been impossible if it weren't for the massive size of the Plymouth. Now, with a flat surface below her, she might actually be able to do something about the handcuffs. The handcuffs were chain-linked, not hinged, and this gave her some room to move. Even without her normal agility, she should be able to move her cuffed hands down around her feet. But, she had to do it quickly. She slid her hands past her rear and pulled her knees tightly up against her chest. She screamed to block out everything else...the pain, the danger...as she forced the cuffs down past her feet. For one heart-stopping moment, the chains caught on the back of her boot heel, but with a firm yank, she pulled them free and her hands were in front of her body. She immediately crawled to the window and reached down to Ryder. He stared up at her in amazement. First, because she had come back to help him, second, because she now had her hands in a useful position. "Move it, Ryder! Grab my hands!" He pushed himself up on his good knee and grasped both of her hands with his. He pushed and she pulled...and he found himself standing, his head just peeking out of the window. He grunted as his bad leg slammed against the dashboard. Suddenly, the car jumped forward. Scully barely managed to keep from rolling off of the car by quickly bracing her feet against the battered rear door frame. "Scully! Jump!" Mulder screamed as the root beneath his foot snapped. He could see her atop the car, trying to help Ryder out. "Just another second, Mulder! He's almost out!" She called back. Ryder pulled at her arms as he tried to claw himself out of the moving car. Mulder saw what was happening and knew that his battle at holding the car back was over. There was only one thing left to do. He released his hold on the bumper and jumped down to the right side of the car, heedless of the possibility that the vehicle could fall over on top of him. His tunnel vision could see only one thing. Scully. He reached out and grabbed Scully's legs, holding them in a death grip. He would not let go this time. The car was only five feet from the edge...and moving faster. Scully felt Mulder's hands close around her legs. If they were going to survive this, they only had one chance. Her eyes locked with Ryder's. He nodded and moved his grip up to her wrists, above the cuffs. Mustering all of her strength, Scully yelled through gritted teeth, "One...two...THREE!" She pulled as hard as she could as Ryder jumped. Meanwhile, Mulder pulled on Scully's legs with the might of ten very desperate men. Ryder's upper body cleared the window and Scully cried out as his full weight pulled against the cuffs on her wrists. Mulder's momentum had pulled her off of the car and now she was caught in an obscene version of human "tug-of-war." The Plymouth had reached the edge of the cliff and was now tipping over. Scully closed her eyes as she realized that they weren't going to make it. But, Mulder had other plans. With one last agonizing pull, Ryder's legs cleared the window and suddenly, all three of them were airborne. The car made one last noise, as if begrudging them their escape, and then it plunged over the edge. Scully landed face down in the mud, her feet still entwined in Mulder's arms, the breath knocked out of her. Ryder landed a foot below her, his hands still gripping her wrists. He buried his face in his arms as he realized his toes were dangling in the air. He used his good leg to push himself up the slope until his entire body was on solid ground. Ryder then promptly passed out. For several moments, Mulder and Scully couldn't speak. Both of them were gasping for breath. Scully couldn't move. Finally, Mulder sat up slowly. He reached down and grabbed Scully around the waist. Carefully, he pulled her up to him, turning her to lay her upper body across his lap, his arms wrapped across her shoulders. Scully felt herself being moved...she could feel the safety and comfort of Mulder's embrace. She opened her eyes slightly and gazed up into his mud-streaked face. In the back of her mind, she realized that they were both in shock. But, for the moment, she was grateful...it meant that neither one of them could feel the pain that she knew was to come. Mulder pushed the dirty strands of wet hair from her face. "Scully...please say something. Talk to me." He began to rock her gently. Scully suspected it was more for his own comfort than hers...but it still felt good. With more than a little effort, she raised her head and spied Ryder below them. She then looked up the slope. Mulder followed her gaze. She gripped his forearm. "Mulder, we can't stay here...and if we're gonna move, we better do it now...before all of our adrenalin is gone." Mulder nodded grimly. Not exactly the words he had wanted to hear from her...but, they *were* words nonetheless. He reluctantly slid Scully from his lap so that she was sitting beside him, leaning against his shoulder. He looked around until he finally spotted an overhang with some tree cover about fifteen feet up the hill and to their left. He pointed it out to Scully. "There...should give us some protection from the storm..." his ability to speak had been reduced to the bare minimum of words. Scully nodded. Then, as one, they inched down to the prone form of Ryder. Each of them looped their hands around an armpit and they proceeded to drag the man up the hill to the overhang. There were no words exchanged...no thought other than to reach cover. Two minutes later, they dropped Ryder's arms and rolled him onto his back under the protection of the rocks and trees. There were a few leaks, but, for the most part, they were out of the wind and rain. The dizziness hit Scully immediately. *I must have hit my head harder than I thought,* she mentally diagnosed as the world became fuzzy. She collapsed against Mulder. Mulder tried to catch her, but found that his limbs were now dead weight...the adrenalin and shock had almost worn off...and were now replaced with a fire that burned through all of his muscles. He caught Scully with his forearms and pulled her to his chest, cushioning her fall as he crumpled against the rock face and slid to the ground beneath her. ********************** CHAPTER FOUR 1930 hours Mitch Ryder sat, his back against the cold damp wall of rock. His injured leg was stretched out in front of him. He was lucky. It wasn't broken. He had checked...deeply bruised, but still intact. And the warmth from the small fire he had just managed to start helped take some of the chill from his damp clothing. It also gave him more light to keep an eye on his "captives." He had awakened almost an hour ago to the thrumming beat of the rain that still fell heavily beyond their little "alcove." As his head began to clear, he had surveyed his environment. He was laying just inside the niche...and he was surprised to find that not only were his hands unbound, but he still had his pistol in his jacket pocket. The man and woman were propped up against the rock face, either asleep or unconscious. He thought it was probably the latter. The man held the woman tightly to his chest...in an obviously protective embrace. They must have collapsed before they could secure and search him. Satisfied that they were not going to wake up any time soon, survival instincts kicked in. It was already dark and the temperature had dropped significantly. He shivered. All three of them were probably injured and in danger of going into shock and hypothermia. He needed to start a fire. He crawled toward the back of the shelter and found a pile of dry limbs, twigs and leaves. He grabbed an armful and moved to the front of the alcove. After clearing a small area, he was able to ignite the twigs and branches with his pocket lighter. Soon, the fire was burning quite nicely. At least he would be warm and could see what was going on around him. He turned to face the man and woman. Still unconscious. He had to come up with some kind of plan. Ryder weighed his options. He needed to find the device...and he was sure that the man had it. He could crawl over to them and search him, but that could be dangerous. If the man awoke, Ryder was in no condition to put up a fight. Besides, even with the fire, it was still too dark to be ferreting around. No. It was better to keep a safe but watchful distance. He could simply wait until they woke up, then he could question them at gunpoint. And then, he would decide what to do with them. Ryder swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. What exactly *was* he going to do with them? And who in the hell were they? They were obviously from his *time.* And, somehow, they knew his name. Or, to be more exact, they knew *one* of his names...and it was a name that he had not yet implemented. He was planning to use it after this particular assignment. This made everything more complicated...and seemed to demand only one possible solution from him...to use terminal force. Unlike some of his colleagues, however, he was not a murderer. He was a scientist...a man who had been sucked into the dark shadows and was completely lost before he had a chance to even notice that the light was gone. The *Group* had taken advantage of him in a moment of weakness. In the blink of an eye, his life had been destroyed...all ties with his past had been severed. His name...his family...his work. All gone in a puff of smoke. It actually took some conscious thought on his part to even *remember* the name he was given at birth. He was on an endless treadmill of destruction and deceit. The longer he had waited for a window of escape, the deeper he had been drawn into the abyss. And during that time, he had committed so many atrocities that it had become impossible to leave *Their* grasp and *They* knew it. Looking back, he now realized that They had set everything up from the beginning. His job at the university...the *accident* that had claimed his wife's life... They had read him like a cheap dimestore novel and had been there, lurking, with an attractive offer when his anger and bitterness consumed him in a self-destructive spiral. He had been a commodity that They wanted. And now They owned him. A small groan returned him to the present. The woman.. *Scully?*...was waking up. Her eyes slowly opened and she tried to gingerly lift her hands to her face. She sucked in a sharp breath. Ryder winced with sympathy. He had already noticed her swollen wrists. The handcuffs were biting savagely into her flesh and her hands were bleeding from the scrapes and cuts she sustained when she was saving *his* ass...pulling *him* from the Plymouth. Why had she done that? "I'm sorry I can't help you with the cuffs," he said quietly. Scully's head jerked up as she realized Ryder was watching her. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the gun in Ryder's hand, resting against his thigh. While it was not pointed directly at her, it was clear that he would use it if he had to. She knew she would have to play this scene very carefully. "I have to get these off...they've started to cut off my circulation." She cleared her throat. Time to take a chance. Either Ryder would help her or she was completely blowing any chance at freeing her hands. "I think Mulder has a spare cuff key in his wallet..." Ryder understood her meaning and nodded to her, giving her permission to try and wake her partner up. Scully said a silent prayer of thanks as she awkwardly turned in Mulder's arms. As she turned her head to look at him, she let out a sigh of relief. His breathing was regular and strong. He did not appear to have any external injuries, other than a few cuts about his hands, although in the dim firelight, it was hard to be sure. Her hands were of little use to her. They were painfully numb...with sharp, electric-like stabs of pain shooting through them as the nerves tried to stay awake. If only she had fallen unconscious with her arms elevated! She wanted to brush the dampness from his face, but that simple act was impossible, as was the act of shaking him to wakefulness. There was little to do except call his name. She craned her neck until they were face to face, her breath falling softly across his cheek. "Mulder...C'mon. Wake up..." He didn't stir. "Mulder...Please. I could use some help here...." This time, he mumbled something and his arms tightened around her waist. Scully became more insistent. "Mulder! Wake up now! I need your help!" The last sentence catapulted him into consciousness. "Scully!" he called out. His arms and legs began to thrash as his eyes flew open. "I'm right here, Mulder!" Scully calmly called to him and he finally stilled as his eyes focused on her...she was safe. And then he closed his eyes and grimaced in pain. *Thrashing* his aching limbs around had *not* been a bright idea. "Are you okay, Mulder?" Scully asked. "Nothing a good hot tub wouldn't cure..." he answered as he opened his eyes again. "I don't think we'll see one of those for a while, Mulder," Scully responded, tilting her head toward Ryder. Mulder followed her gaze past the crackling fire and saw Ryder, who was now on full alert, his gun pointed at them. "What the hell?..." Mulder exclaimed, but Scully stilled him. "First things first, Mulder," she said, lifting her hands in front of his face. "Jesus, Scully! Why didn't you say something?" He tenderly supported her arms with one hand as the other carefully traced the swollen lines around the cuffs. "I'm saying something now, Mulder...and I'm really hoping you have your spare key in its usual place..." Mulder froze for a second. *Did* he have it? He and Scully, like all law enforcement officers, always carried a spare handcuff key in case of emergencies. He carried one on his car key ring...and he kept the other secreted in his wallet. Scully kept her spare wedged in her badge case...which now was only God knows where. He hadn't checked his in quite a while...since they headed out on their last case together. Normally, he religiously checked it before *every* case; but, things hadn't been quite normal lately, had they? He shifted forward, being careful not to jar his partner, and he pulled his wallet from the right rear pocket of his pants. He fumbled it open and began to dig through the deepest pocket inside. His fingers were too big and clumsy. He pressed the sides to open the pocket and turned it upside-down, shaking it over his open palm. Finally, the key fell out. "Thank God," Scully muttered. Mulder quickly inserted the key into the lock on her left wrist. He turned it right, then left, then right again and the bracelet snapped open. Mulder was surprised when he realized that Ryder had taken the time to double lock the cuffs...if he hadn't, Scully's wrists would have been in even worse condition. Double-locking prevented the cuffs from being able to tighten further. *Thank God for small favors,* he thought grimly. Scully tried not to cry out when the circulation was suddenly restored to her left hand..and she almost succeeded. She was completely unsuccessful, however, when Mulder removed the cuff from her right hand. Mulder wrapped his arms around her, one hand holding her forehead, the other circling her waist, hoping to will the pain away for her as she leaned back into his chest. He had to settle for helping her keep her arms elevated. At least he could give her some of his remaining strength. Scully managed to get her breathing under control once again, taking deep breaths, not unlike Lamaze techniques, to help control the pain shooting up and down her arms. "What can I do to help, Scully?" Mulder whispered. Suddenly, he was very resentful that they had an audience. He knew that Scully did not like to show any signs of weakness to others. *Hell,* she only grudgingly showed them to him. Scully quickly gathered her thoughts. "The rain is pretty cold...we need to soak some cloth or something..." Mulder nodded. He started to move from his position behind Scully and froze. He looked over at Ryder, realizing he needed the man's *permission.* Surprisingly, Ryder nodded and motioned weakly with his gun for Mulder to do what needed to be done. Mulder raised up to crouch on his knees, ignoring the screams of the muscles in his lower back. It was going to take a hot tub *and* a huge tube of Ben-Gay *and* a masseuse for this damage to be undone. Figuring it would be easier if he moved quickly and simply got the aching over with, he unbuttoned his damp shirt and shrugged it off of his shoulders. Using his teeth, he started a small tear down the middle of the shirt, then he ripped the material in two. He leaned over to a large puddle of rainwater and began to soak the cloth in the cool water. Once he was satisfied that they were freshly saturated, he returned to Scully's side. He hesitated as he took her right hand in his and looked at the blood. "Is this a good idea, Scully? These are hardly sterile conditions...your wounds could get infected..." Scully bit her lower lip. Mulder was right about the risk of infection, but the swelling was her primary concern right now and there was nothing they could do about the other. "It's okay, Mulder. Just do it." He nodded warily and began to wrap her wrists. Scully closed her eyes as the cool dampness began to bring her some relief from the throbbing aches. Once Mulder was satisfied with his work, he sat back on his heels and stared at his partner. His hand moved on its own to brush the damp hair from her forehead. Her eyes opened and she quietly gave him a smile of thanks. "Is that better?" Ryder interrupted their silent communications. They both turned to him, Mulder shifting to sit beside Scully, his arm automatically moving around her shoulders, hoping he could shield her from the gun if necessary. "I'm fine," Scully replied stonily. Ryder nodded slightly. She had taken his query as a challenge...and she had met it. He felt a twinge of regret. Mulder's temper flared in the silence. Scully could have been killed because of Ryder's actions...and having to see the injuries she sustained because he had *handcuffed* her... He wanted to strangle Ryder with his bare hands. Scully could feel the tension in Mulder's body. She needed to say something to diffuse the situation...for she knew that, somehow, Ryder had to become their ally. "So, Mr. Ryder...what do you plan to do now that you have us both?" Ryder paused. He still had no idea what his *plans* were. "Well," he began, "Perhaps you could first tell me who you are and how in the hell you know my name is Ryder?" Scully weighed her words carefully. "I am Special Agent Dana Scully...and this is my partner, Fox Mulder. We're with the F.B.I." A realization started to surface in Ryder's mind. Could these two be the ones *They* spoke of only in whispers? He had never heard names ascribed to the mysterious man and woman...but it been obvious by the tones and language used that these two were not only thorns in the side of the Group, but, in some way, they were also integral, if unwitting, components in the *Program.* This could change everything. "So, Agent Scully, that answers the first question. Now, how do you know my name?" Ryder persisted. Scully remained silent. Mulder gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze to signal his agreement with her tactics. Ryder noted their determined faces. They were not going to answer that question...yet. "Fine. We'll come back to that one later. But, now, Agent Mulder, I believe you have something I want. I suggest you give me the device now...and don't even try and pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I think we both know that Timberland boots like those and FBI agents like Ms. Scully weren't around in 1947." Mulder looked sideways at Scully. She gave him a slight nod. He could tell that she was reading something in Ryder...something he could not see yet. But, she had had more time to observe him, get inside his head. He would trust her instincts. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the device. Ryder motioned for him to toss it over and Mulder complied. Ryder stared down at the device in his hand and gasped. He hurriedly turned it over and opened a small panel in the back. He squinted as he held the object up, trying to see using the brightness of the lightning outside. He was able to see enough. His hand flew to his own pocket and confirmed that his own device was still there. How could this be? Each unit was, by necessity, unique. Ryder turned in stunned silence to stare at his captives. "Perhaps you'll be so kind to tell me how in the hell you have *my* control unit...an exact copy of the very one sitting in my own pocket?" The partners remained silent. Ryder's anger flared. "So, is this how you know my name? Are you my murderers? You kill me sometime in the future and steal the controller?" He exploded, his gun waving dramatically...and dangerously. But Mulder was heedless of the threat. Ryder's words had been the last straw. "What the hell is wrong with you? You almost kill my partner and yet she still saves your sorry ass...and now she's sitting here, injured and in pain because of YOU! And you have the audacity to point that gun at her and accuse her of murder??? Are you some kind of idiot? If we were going to kill you, we would have let you go over with the car and let your stinking carcass rot at the bottom of that cliff!" Scully grabbed at Mulder's arm as he ended his tirade, regardless of the pain in her hands. She had to stop him before he got himself shot. Mulder collapsed back beside her. Arguing with a man with a gun was usually pretty fruitless and always stupid. But, it still had felt good to do a little name calling. Ryder sat, stunned. Mulder was absolutely right. If they were going to kill him, why would they have pulled him from the car? And, there was something in Scully's eyes...hope? Scully saw the confused emotions on Ryder's face and knew that it was an opening. "You *gave* the controller to me," she spoke quietly. He looked at her questioningly. "We were in another time and place...another *dimension,* you called it. You wanted to help us...You only told me the basics about the controller...but we needed it to escape. You saved our lives..." Ryder could only stare at her. There was no doubt that Scully was telling him the truth. No one was that good an actress. But why had he helped them? He shook his head. He had an idea why. They were his chance at revenge...a last grab at atonement for his sins. But he had to be sure...were these the two *They* were afraid of? Scully seemed to sense his questions. Without a word, she turned to Mulder and tilted her head, letting her hair fall to the side of her neck. "Help me show him the proof, Mulder..." she asked. Mulder nodded, even though it pained him to once again acknowledge what had been done to her...to them. He reached up to her collar and gently pulled the material away, exposing the small scar at the back of her neck. Ryder stared at the scar. His eyes moved to lock with Mulder's. He sensed the fierce protectiveness and rage within the F.B.I. agent. The woman he obviously loved had been hurt by *Them* and he would find vengeance. He knew the look for he himself had carried it once. His decision was made. *********************** 2200 hours "Mitch Ryder" limped up the muddy, rutted road. Mulder, under the tutelage of Scully, had helped him bandage his wounded leg with Ryder's shirt so that he could walk. The unrelenting rain had long ago plastered his hair to his skull. The water mixed with the Vitalis there and ran down his neck in a greasy river. He was badly winded and each new gasp for breath blew fresh rain water from his lips. But he kept focused on his goal, his jaw set with determination, even as the thunder and lightning taunted him. It was almost time. Time for the small army of jeeps to come sliding and jarring down the road. The men inside prepared to use the cover of this night storm to set the future in motion. Ryder was supposed to be one of those men. And this fact would possibly save him and the two FBI agents who had entrusted their fates to him. He paused in his trek to lean over and catch one deep breath. As he pulled himself erect once more, he spied the first headlight. It was time for him to set the new, untested wheels in motion. ************************ Mulder poked at the fire with a long stick, pushing the new fuel of sticks and twigs he had just added further into the inferno. They had managed to work out a *truce* with Ryder...and they had set about coming up with a plan to get them out of this mess. But still, Mulder had more than a twinge of regret. This new plan negated any of his earlier hopes of actually seeing firsthand what was destined to come *crashing down* in a few hours time. He chanced a surreptitious glance at Scully. She was huddled against the rock wall, her aching arms loosely wrapped around her knees for warmth. She was trying to keep her haphazardly bandaged wrists elevated, but wasn't having much luck. Her eyes were closed, but Mulder knew she was still awake. Years of experience had taught him the exact pattern of breath, the length and breadth of each respiration, when she drifted off. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was okay to miss the *big event.* As long as she was safe. "Amazing how near-death experiences change your priorities, Mulder," he thought. He went back to working on the fire. Once he was satisfied with his handiwork, he turned on his aching haunches and creaked back to his partner's side. "That should do us for a while," he stated as he sat down beside Scully. "Well, Mulder, I'll never doubt your Boy Scout credentials again," Scully replied with a shiver as she opened her eyes. Mulder noticed her tremors and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to his side. She gave him a wary sideways glance. Mulder shrugged and smiled. "Consider it another one of my good deeds for the day, Scully." Scully nodded and snuggled in a bit closer. Her clothes were still quite damp and she was too tired and sore to argue. "How long has it been since Ryder left?" Scully asked wearily. "About an hour..give or take..." Mulder replied. They were silent for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Then Scully hesitantly broke the quiet. "I almost forgot to thank you..." she muttered into his chest. "Thank me for what?" "For saving my life...for pulling me out of the car..." Mulder was silent for a moment. Ordinarily, a thank you from his partner would shock him into speechlessness. They seldom exchanged such "pleasantries." But, this time, the mood of his silence was different. The image of the car carrying Scully over the edge of the cliff was still too fresh in his mind. Scully was puzzled until she lifted her head to look at his face. "What is it, Mulder?" He unconsciously began to rub his hand up and down her right arm. "When I saw that car..." he bowed his head, then lifted it to lock eyes with her. "I thought you were dead, Scully...I didn't think I was in time..." When the eye contact became too intense, Scully lowered her head to his chest once more. "But you were, Mulder. You *were* in time." Mulder tightened his grip around her, moving his arm down about her waist. A few moments later, she surprised him with a small chuckle. "What's so funny, partner?" "I was just wondering if this makes us even now..." she replied. "Huh?" "I was just remembering all the times I've thought *you* were dead...only to get you back in one piece...So, I was wondering if this evened things out now..." Mulder smirked. Only he and his partner could joke about something as morbid as their repeated miraculous returns from the brink of death. Then, he frowned. This one had been too close. "I don't know about being even...but, Scully, just promise me one thing..." "Anything, Mulder..." "Don't ever try and even that score again...I don't think my heart can take any more innings..." Scully's lips curved into a bittersweet smile as she inhaled the dampness of Mulder's t-shirt. This conversation was beginning to become a habit. She sighed. "I promise, Mulder. But, as usual, you have to promise me something, too." Mulder rested his chin atop of Scully's head. "Anything, Scully..." "Well...then...wherever we end up next, I get to drown in a nice, deep, hot tub with lots of bubbles...and I get to sleep in a warm, comfortable bed for at least three days straight." Mulder huffed a small laugh, his exhalation barely moving Scully's damp hair. "I believe I can arrange that...Now, why don't you try and get some rest...we've probably got a while before Ryder gets back." "Are you sure.." Scully began to protest. "Shhh. I'm sure. Get some rest. You need it more than I do right now. I'll wake you in an hour." "Promise?" she asked doubtfully. "I promise. Scout's honor," he replied, raising his right hand to add veracity to his testimony. "Okay,...but only since the honor of an entire army of boys in uniform is at stake..." Scully mumbled. "You're just a sucker for a man in a uniform, eh?" Mulder teased. But Scully never responded to his quick wit. Within a few moments, he felt her body go slack in his arms. Her breathing evened out and soon it was apparent that she was oblivious to the world. "First thing when we get home," Mulder whispered, "remind me to model my khaki uniform for you..." ********************* On The Road to Roswell 0130 hours Mulder and Scully braced themselves against the backseat of the covered Jeep as it bounced and slid across the mud-mired path that used to be called a road. True to his word and their plan, Ryder had arrived to pick them up from their hiding place and they were now headed back into town. Ryder had been able to commandeer a vehicle from the "troops" as they arrived and positioned themselves for the imminent "arrival." The men never questioned Ryder's request...especially when they saw his ragged condition. He had quickly mentioned his accident en route to the scene and then expressed his confidence in the others to carry out their "duties." They had emptied their equipment from one of their Jeeps and handed the keys over to him. He doubted that many questions would be raised later. His superiors hadn't required him to be at the "scene." He was in Roswell for what came before and what would transpire after the incident. Ryder grimly stared out the windshield, concentrating on his driving and planning carefully the words he was about to impart upon the two agents behind him. For the first forty-five minutes, he had kept them crouched on the floorboard. They could not risk being seen by late arriving "team" members. Ten minutes after passing the Brazel ranch, he had allowed them to get up from the floor. He had winced in sympathy as the two tried to stretch out their stiff, sore joints. He took a special notice of how quickly Mulder had moved to check his partner's swollen wrists. And how quickly she had tried to inspect his sore legs and back. Ryder had pointed out the first aid kit and Mulder had made quick work of using the supplies to disinfect and bandage Scully's wrists. The two never even had to exchange words. Now, as they bounced down the road in continued silence, he wondered how they would digest the information he was about to give them. He looked into the rear view mirror once more. Mulder had his arm wrapped around Scully...trying to keep both of them warm as their still-damp clothing caused them to shiver with cold. When Ryder finally saw the paved road that led to Roswell on the horizon, he broke the silence. "Okay, you two. It looks like we're in the clear...for now. We should be back in Roswell in about an hour...and I've got lots of things to tell you before we get there." "Where are you taking us?" Mulder asked pointedly...still unsure as to how far they could trust Ryder. "We're going to my *garage.* I've got what you'll need there..." "What do you mean..." Mulder interjected. "Just shut up and listen for a change, Agent Mulder...please?" Ryder's voice softened. "You have to get out of this place...this time. Others know you're here. We only have a few more hours before they'll catch up to you. "There's a lot I *don't* know...but what I *do* know I need to tell you...and you need to listen very carefully...Listen and not interrupt." In the back, Scully looked up at Mulder and nodded. They would listen to Ryder. "So...start talking..." Mulder prodded. And so, Ryder began his story. *************** "The rumors really began in 1936. "Yes, there had been murmurs before that...going back centuries, really. But, no one had taken them seriously until a man named Adolph Hitler came on the scene. "When Hitler's *scientists* began developing the V-1 and then the V-2 Rockets...concrete information began to find its way to the West...to the United States. "The Germans were making huge leaps in technology...some which could possibly be explained away by the usual 'wars force technology forward by necessity'....but the rest... We *knew* their capabilities and resources before Hitler began his 'reclaiming' of other nations. "We didn't believe that they just suddenly 'came up' with their inventions...And we were right. They stole it. "Hitler, in his never-ending quest for immortality for himself and his Aryan race, had dispatched secret agents across the globe... He was determined to follow up on every legend of treasure, riches...and supernatural powers. "And before you say anything...yes, I saw 'Raiders Of The Lost Ark,' too. Let's just say that the producers will never know how close to the truth they actually were. "One of the first places they targeted was in the Soviet Union...a place I believe you are familiar with, Agent Mulder. A place called 'Tunguska.' Many German scientists had already traveled to the remote area and reported on the devastating power of 'unknown origin' that had destroyed the area in 1908. "While there was no apparent 'crater' from the impact..or explosion...the team did find areas of ground that had collapsed. Ceilings of ancient caverns below the surface had given way. "This is where they first encountered evidence of your 'aliens,' Agent Mulder. They found the strange rocks that housed the black 'oil.' "And, if a scientist had been in charge of the mission, they would have found much much more. Thank God they had an egotistical major in charge...or I doubt very much we would be having this conversation now. "They were so filled with greed over finding this 'oil' that they missed the portal there entirely. "The Nazis also sent teams to Machu Pichu...ruins in Mexico...the Plains of Nazca in Peru...Loch Ness...and many other sites. Including some in the U.S. and Canada. Sites that your MUFON friends would probably call 'U.F.O. hot spots' today. "Fortunately for the U.S. and its Allies...we had superior counter-intelligence and undercover operatives. As a result, the Nazis were defeated...and the winners were left with the spoils. "There was a mad rush to snatch up Hitler's scientists and the artifacts they had found. "Now...fast forward through the decades. After World War II, the world experienced a lightning speed technological revolution that has never been seen before in history. Where do you think that technology *really* came from? Microwaves, microchips, satellites, nuclear power...DNA identification... "It all came from 'Them.' "In 1947, we had our first intelligent encounter with Them. In, as you guessed, Roswell, New Mexico. "A craft crashed...and there were *two* survivors. And this is when we found out how wrong we had been. "For centuries, man had looked to the heavens, thinking of aliens from 'outer space.' "Instead, we discovered that the 'aliens' were not from a distant planet at all. Rather, they were from another dimension...another time. "We poured all of our efforts into understanding *how* this travel was accomplished. Unfortunately, each human *volunteer* that we tried to send through a portal died from the exposure to whatever forces were at work. "Eventually, thanks to lessons in human physiology, we were able to send men from one portal to another and have them survive. But, they could only tolerate a few trips before they fried rather important areas of their brains. "That is when we began to make a connection between the electrical impulses in the brain and the portal. "More experiments were conducted. Using the equipment found at the Roswell crash site, the 'controllers,' like the one you have, were developed. They were able to reign in the overload on the brain and direct humans safely from portal to portal. "But, the powers that be were not satisfied. They knew that the aliens were able to travel not only from portal to portal...but through *time.* In the blink of an eye. They knew what power laid ahead for anyone who could control both the past *and* the future. "This is what you have stumbled upon...the *experiment* you were subjected to, Agent Scully. "The implants are the key. We do not understand exactly how they work. But we know that, once again, those with implants can travel in time only a limited number of times before brain damage occurs. "There was even a control group...those like you, Agent Scully, who were returned to the normal world and allowed to go back to their lives...their families. This group was studied, watched...to see what the long term health effects would be. "The implant *subjects* are taken through a portal to another *dimension* where we work closely with the two beings from the Roswell incident. It's a security matter...a place where we can can keep them safe from outsiders...and can keep them under close guard. "On the device, the white button is for *normal* portal travel...something anyone can do. You simply adjust the coordinates inside the back cover. Right now, your device is still set for travel to and from that other *dimension.* "The black button is for *implants.* You still need to be by a portal...but, the implant can control *where* and *when* you go simply by the power of thought. "Until you, Agent Scully, we had no idea that an implant *unit* would be able to travel through time *after* the implant had been removed. I don't know...the first one must have been in your neck long enough for your brain's electrical 'system' to have adapted. It *has* to be that...or else you would never have been able to have come here to Roswell. "For now, we use our limited trips to come back to places like Roswell. Not to change history...*yet*...but to insure that no one *else* is tampering with things. Their are other parties, individuals, that would love to steal all of this technology. And this would definitely muss up the plans my bosses have. "So, until the time when they can fully exploit these travel *powers,* we operate unders strict controls. Only a limited few have the knowledge I have. Most only have bits and pieces. "Operatives that *travel* are not allowed to interfere with history in any way. And, as of yet, no one has traveled more than a few days into the future. "And before the two of you go anywhere...I strongly suggest you follow these rules also. We still have no idea just how resilient the past is to our presence.... "And that's about everything I know...the Reader's Digest Condensed Version anyway..." ***************** If Mulder and Scully had not already witnessed and experienced the portals for themselves, they would have stuffed a gag in Ryder's mouth and taken him to the nearest psychiatric hospital. As it was, Mulder had only one place to begin his line of questioning. The question closest to his heart. "So," began Mulder, "you're saying that *Scully* brought us here?" "Yes. That's the only possible explanation. Agent Scully, what were you thinking about just before you came here?" But Scully was lost in uncomfortable thought...she did not answer. Mulder, rerunning their heated discussion in Chantal, *was* able to answer for her. "She had been joking with me about Roswell..." he stammered...unbelieving. He finally realized that Scully was not participating in the conversation. He stared at Scully in horror. Her face had turned pale green. "Pull over...now!" She gasped. Ryder, shaken by her tone, did as he was told. The car had barely come to a stop when she hurtled out the door and collapsed to her knees at the side of the road, retching. Mulder wanted to strangle Ryder...but was torn by his duty to Scully. "You sonofabitch! What have they done to her?" he shouted as he grabbed Ryder by the collar. "Agent Mulder...I'm *trying* to make this *right* now...I'm sorry about what's been done to her...but she needs some help right now." Mulder looked at Ryder's panicked face and averted his eyes. His gaze then fell upon the mark on Ryder's neck. He had an implant...he was being used as a guinea pig, too. Mulder released his hold on Ryder in disgust and jumped out of the car, running to Scully's side. He rubbed her back gently with one hand as the other pulled the hair back out of her way. "I'll be okay, Mulder," she whispered hoarsely. "That whole story just made me sick...innocent people used as test subjects until their bodies gave out...when does this end?" Mulder shook his head silently. After a few minutes, Scully signaled that she was okay to stand. Mulder braced his hands under her elbows and helped her to her feet. "Scully. We could just leave Ryder right here...we don't know if we can trust anything he says..." Scully stopped him with a hand on his chest. Her eyes were teared and red from being sick. "No, Mulder. Even though he's been a part of this...I think we *can* believe him. For whatever his personal reasons are...he wants to help us. Remember what he did..what he *does* in Caveton. He saved my life...he *dies* to help us. We have to just keep going forward and stop looking back. We have to give him a chance. Let's see where this takes us." Mulder was quiet, weighing her words. He knew she was right...and on this, he trusted Scully's judgment. He ran his hand across her damp cheek. "So...how 'bout we get out of this rain and back into the car." Scully nodded and Mulder guided her back inside, his arm still around her shoulders as they sat back. "So, Mr. Ryder...I guess it's time to get back to town." Ryder gave a quiet sigh of relief as he started the car and pulled back onto the highway. Perhaps he would have a chance to redeem himself after all. **************** Garage behind Main Street Downtown Roswell The large door swung open and Mulder ran inside the old garage bay, holding the door until Ryder drove in with the car. Once the car was neatly inside, Mulder quickly closed the door and threw the sliding bolt lock home. As Mulder helped Scully out of the car, Ryder walked over to a large footlocker and bent down, pulling a key from his pocket. He slipped the key into the heavy-duty padlock that ensured the trunk's security. With a loud *snick* the lock popped open. Ryder quickly removed the lock and opened the trunk. He removed a pile of clothing and held it out toward Scully. "Here. You'll need these...some nice, nondescript clothing that can fit in just about anywhere...anytime... in or around the twentieth century. You might need to make a few modifications...but hopefully, you won't stand out too badly." Then he handed two pairs of brown leather hiking boots to Mulder. "And these should fit you okay..." Scully placed the pile on the workbench and clumsily unfolded the clothing for inspection. She immediately noticed that none of the clothing bore labels. For Mulder there was a large World War I style brown leather jacket, a pair of faded and slightly baggy blue jeans, a simple white tee shirt, and a light-weight black pullover sweater. She passed them to her partner. It looked as though the clothes would be a decent fit. The remaining clothes were obviously for a woman...albeit a woman who was at least two sizes larger than Scully. There was a pair of classic cut khaki pants, a thick white cotton oxford shirt, a white scarf, and a black leather waist length flight jacket. She sighed. She would definitely be swimming in the trousers and would have to do some surgery on the length. But, at least there was a belt to help with the "cinching." But Ryder was correct. The articles were timeless. "I know they won't be a perfect fit, Agent Scully. They were meant for old Nurse 'Ratchet.' But they'll have to do for now. You should be able to pick up some more suitable clothing along the way. In the meantime, you two can change in there," Ryder motioned toward a small office at the back of the garage. Mulder and Scully exchanged a raised-brow look. They really had no choice. Ryder was the expert on what they were about to do...where they were about to go. Mulder motioned for Scully to go first. He was surprised when Scully spoke. "Come on, Mulder. Let's go," she stated simply as she moved toward the back room. Mulder knew that Scully wanted to "talk" and did not intend to cater to his voyeuristic streak...but he still had to suppress a mild gulp. Ryder never even blinked at the arrangements as the two agents entered the office together. **** Mulder entered the room and turned to close the door. When he turned back toward Scully he was stunned to see her stripping down in front him...paying no attention to the fact that his jaw was now bouncing off of the floor. "Um, Scully...." he muttered mindlessly. Scully looked up as she finished pulling off her sweater. She rolled her eyes at Mulder's dumbstruck expression. "Mulder. Breathe," she scolded. "I just didn't think I could do anything with these buttons or my shoes..." Mulder mentally kicked himself. Of course she needed help. Her hands were still too sore... He nodded and moved toward her. Scully let her hands fall to her side and waited for him to get to work. He knelt before her and unlaced her boots, allowing her to toe them off as he rose again to take care of the buttons. His stare never wavered from the task at hand...even though his fingers were suddenly all thumbs. Scully had to suppress a laugh when the tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth...his concentration was *that* intense. When he finally finished, he froze for a moment...not exactly sure what he was supposed to do next. Scully took pity on him. "Thanks, Mulder. I can take it from here." He looked up and simply nodded. He backed up, still staring blankly at her. She folded her arms across her chest. "Mmmul-derrrr," she began. Mulder quickly averted his eyes toward the ground. Anywhere but the vision of Scully standing before him in that bra. "Mulder..." This time her voice was softer. Understanding. "Look. We have to *talk.* This might be our only chance to be alone before we head out to...wherever we end up. Besides, it not like we've got anything here that neither one of has seen before..." Her last sentence was designed to tease him. It had the desired effect. He raised his head and met her eyes. He nodded. Throwing his *new* clothing onto the office desk, he began to pull off his own clothes. *If Scully can be an adult about this...so can I....I think,* he told himself. He still managed to keep his back turned toward her as they changed. Two minutes later, he heard the creak of a chair as Scully sat down. "It's button and shoe time again, Mulder," she prompted. He sheepishly turned toward her once again. He was already wearing the jeans...he still held the tee shirt and sweater in his hand. Much to Scully's secret disappointment, he hurriedly pulled both over his torso and moved over to sit beside her. This time, his fingers were swift and sure as he slid all of the buttons into their proper seats. Then, he grabbed the small boots and leaned over, back creaking, to help her fit her feet inside them. He laced them up quickly. Once finished, he pulled back with, what seemed to Scully, a sigh of relief. She had no idea how happy Mulder was that she had managed to handle the zipper and snap on her pants by herself. "How are your hands doing?" He queried. "Better, I think," she responded, turning them over in her lap as she inspected them. "That antibiotic cream Ryder gave us has taken away most of the sting. I'll be fine once the swelling goes down a little more...just give it a day or two." Mulder nodded his approval. He knew it was pointless to push the issue any further. And it was obvious that Scully wanted to change the topic of conversation. Scully looked at her partner, thankful he wouldn't question her judgment about her own health...this time. Without thinking, she lifted her hand and began to smooth his mussed up hair as she continued to speak. "I have to admit, though, that I am a little nervous about this, Mulder." Mulder was once again surprised by Scully's admission. Somewhere, somehow in the past few weeks they had crossed some unseen bridge. Scully had begun to admit to him the things that she perceived as her "weaknesses." He reached up and lightly took her hand and caressed it gently, not wanting to hurt her. "I'd be worried about you if you weren't, Scully. And, between you and me, so am I." Scully removed her hand from his, but not before returning his caress. She leaned down to pick up her jacket and folded it in her lap...needing to do something with her stiff hands. Mulder wasn't entirely happy about the loss of physical contact. He needed the connection during this conversation. They...*she*...was about to risk so much. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure about this, Scully? This is going to be dangerous for you..." "For us *both,* Mulder..." she interrupted. "You know what I mean. We don't know how many of these *trips* we can make before you suffer permanent damage..." "Mulder. We'll be careful...I don't *have* to control where we go...But, you know as well as I do that we don't have a choice right now. We have to do this if we ever want to go home and return to a normal life..." "Normal, Scully?" Mulder smirked. She exhaled a small laugh. "Well...normal for *us.* You know...mutants, goat sucking beasts...that sort of thing. Normal." Mulder leaned back in his chair. "So, Partner. Where *shall* we head to next?" "I don't know...but let's make it good. We need to put some space between us and *Them* until we can figure out some kind of plan..." They put their heads together and made their decisions. ******************** As Mulder and Scully changed into their "travel" attire, Ryder grabbed a canvas backpack from his workbench. The pack was devoid of any markings...and its construction was ideal for traveling through time and space. The design was dateless. He then set about collecting several items from a nearby trunk. He had just begun to fill the pack with the various items as Mulder and Scully . "These are just the bare necessities for life on the road...." Ryder looked up at them, realizing his phrasing was not exactly appropriate. He shrugged. "...Or whatever you want to call it." He closed the pack and fastened the straps to secure it shut. Then he looked up at the agents. "You two should pass muster," he nodded approvingly. "So...what's in the pack?" Scully asked. "You've got a small first aid kit...with some handy things like antibiotics and pain killers...and some powders to help you with potassium and electrolyte replacement...stuff that might not exist yet in the places and times you'll go...there's a map with the coordinates of most of the gateways; candles; an *old* World War II flashlight...use that sparingly cause you can't charge it easily. There's also a canteen of water and some trail mix. And I put in some spare ammunition for these..." Ryder held out two older model Colt .45 handguns. "I hope you don't need these...and I certainly wouldn't flash these around. Use the ammo sparingly...*only* in emergencies." Mulder nodded as he tucked his gun into his pants at the small of his back. Scully stared at hers for a moment, realizing that her clothing situation prevented her from safely concealing it. With some reluctance, she turned to Mulder. "Can you put this in the pack for me? I don't think I can carry it any other way." Mulder took the gun from her and did as she asked. "I also put in some U.S. currency from before and after we went to the gold standard...and there is some plain gold jewelry that can be traded or hocked in a pinch," Ryder added. Mulder and Scully were slightly dumbstruck. Was there anything that the Consortium *didn't* include on their time-travelers' packing list? It was becoming quite apparent that this "project" was a enormous in scope. And they were only headed deeper into the midst of it all. Ryder looked at his watch and grimaced. "Look. It's almost daybreak. You've got to get out of here now...and I don't want to know where you're going...it's safer that way." Mulder turned to Scully. "Are you ready?" "Not really...but it's a moot point, isn't it?" "Yeah," he sighed, "kinda like 'Other than *that,* Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?'" The agents turned to face Ryder. Mulder extended his hand. Ryder accepted it and they shook hands quickly. "Thanks, Ryder...for everything." Ryder nodded. "I wish you both luck...I know that I must meet up with you again...sometime in the future...*my* future, anyway...But then again, nothing is written in stone..." Scully bit her lip. She hated to think of what Ryder's fate would be. She placed her hand on his arm and let her eyes convey her gratitude. A moment later, Ryder cleared his throat and moved to open the door. He peered outside. "The coast is clear...head out to the barn I showed you on the edge of town. It will be safe to use the device there...and since it's a portal that's rarely used here, your movements might go unnoticed for a bit longer." Mulder grabbed the pack from the work table and quickly ushered Scully outside. They never looked back as they moved silently down the back street to the outskirts of Roswell. Soon, they arrived at the barn. The door hinge creaked slightly as Mulder opened it. The musty smell of old, dank hay filled the air. Scully sneezed. "Damn allergies," she muttered, as she tried to flip back the hair that had fallen into her eyes as a result of the *explosion.* Mulder reached out and pushed the hair back out of her eyes, tucking it back behind her ears where it belonged. "You ready, Scully?" "As ready as you are, Mulder...I just hope I get this right...I *want* that bathtub..." Mulder smiled and wrapped his arms around her as he pressed the appropriate button. "I'm sure we'll get there...I trust you," he replied. "Then hang on tight...don't let go..." "Trust me, Scully. I won't...trust me," he whispered into her ear as the whirlwind opened around them. As the inside of the barn faded from his view, Mulder could have sworn he heard Scully reply, "Only you, Mulder..." ***************** The END