Title: Evanescent 
Author: Susan 
E-mail: susanf34@comcast.net 

Classification: story, alternate universe I guess,
since this is about a *what if* situation
Rating: PG, chapter three rated R
Keywords: big time angst for all those involved

Spoilers: Duane Barry, and other brief references 
to various episodes from the first two seasons of 
the show.  Takes place early in season two.

Archive: No archive without permission.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to each other,
not me.

Author's notes: What if during the course of season 
two, Mulder was the one who was abducted by Duane 
Barry and Scully was the one frantically trying to 
find him? This story takes a look at how things might 
have played out had that been the case...

More author's notes at the end.

Summary: One abduction. Two lives turned upside down.
*********************************************************

Evanescent 
by Susan 
~~~~

Mulder's apartment
9:32 pm


Mulder walked through the door of his apartment, 
went over to his phone and picked it up, then 
pressed the first number on his speed dial.

Pacing back and forth, he waited for her familiar 
voice, but instead got her answering machine.

"Hello, this is Dana Scully.  Leave a message at 
the sound of the beep."

"Scully, you're not going to believe this, but 
something really strange is going on with this 
implant we found in Duane Barry. Tonight when I 
was at the store, I ran it over one of their 
scanners, and some sort of serial number came up..."

He picked up the glass cylinder and looked more 
closely at the tiny object inside. "I don't know
what to think, Scully...it's almost like he was 
being cataloged, like he was part of some kind of 
referencing system. I know you're not home right 
now, but I'm going to come over anyway and wait 
for you. We need to talk about this," he said 
anxiously.

Hanging up the phone, he quickly stuffed the small
container in his jacket pocket, turned off the 
lights, then hurried out the door.

Once he stepped outside his apartment building, he 
realized that it was a lot colder than he thought 
so he zipped up his jacket and flipped the collar 
up around his neck.  When he got to bottom of the 
stairs, he also noticed that the shoelace on his 
right shoe had come untied, and he bent over to 
tie it.

"You're coming with me," he heard a gruff voice 
suddenly say from behind him.

The next thing he saw was the butt of his own gun 
coming towards his head.

And the next thing he felt was the cold hard ground 
slamming into his face.

~~~~

Scully's apartment
10:21 pm


Scully walked into her dark apartment, and flopped 
onto the couch. She was exhausted, not just physically, 
but emotionally.  Seeing Mulder tied to a chair and 
at the mercy of Duane Barry had frightened her, more 
than she cared to admit.

And when she had finally seen him walk out of that 
travel agency, safe and unharmed, the relief that 
had flooded through her was overwhelming. Afterwards 
as they stood outside together and watched the 
ambulance take Duane away, he had told her that 
he didn't need to get checked by a doctor.

At the time he looked a bit unsteady to her, not 
to mention exhausted, but she didn't want to push 
him, and so she had let him go home alone.

That was over two hours ago, and she hadn't heard 
from him since.

Should she call him and check to make sure he was 
okay, or should she just let him rest until morning?

Knowing Mulder the way she did, she was certain 
that he was still awake, probably lying on his 
couch thinking about all the things that Duane 
Barry had told him and about how he could've 
handled the hostage situation differently.

Turning on a lamp, she reached over to grab her 
phone and saw that she already had a message 
waiting for her, probably from him.  She pressed 
the button and took her coat off as she listened.

"Scully, you're not going to believe this, but 
something really strange is going on with this 
implant we found in Duane Barry.  Tonight when 
I was at the store, I ran it over one of their 
scanners, and some sort of serial number came 
up..."

Tilting her head closer to the machine, she leaned 
over and turned up the volume, then listened to 
the rest of his message.

"I don't know what to think, Scully...it's almost 
like he was being cataloged, like he was part of 
some kind of referencing system. I know you're not 
home right now, but I'm going to come over anyway 
and wait for you. We need to talk about this." 

The tension she heard in his voice made her feel 
uneasy, and she immediately picked up the phone.  
According to the machine, he had called her about 
45 minutes ago, which would have been more than 
enough time for him to get to her apartment by now.

Anxiously pressing the speed dial, she called his 
cell phone and waited for him to answer. He didn't. 

She disconnected and tried again.

Still no answer.

Could he have turned his phone off?

No, ever since they'd gotten their cell phones, 
they both kept them turned on, even during the 
night in case there was an emergency.

Her anxiety level quickly rising, she tried his 
home phone in case maybe he'd decided not to come 
see her after all.

There was no answer there either.

A sharp chill ran through her body as she quickly 
put her coat back on and grabbed her car keys.

Something was wrong. She could feel it in every 
muscle and every bone of her body.

Hurrying out to her car, she sped off into the 
night.

~~~~

When he opened his eyes, all he could see was 
darkness, and he was moving, possibly in the 
trunk of a car, or maybe it was some sort of 
storage unit in the back of a truck.  

His legs felt numb, his head was throbbing, and 
his shoulders ached as he frantically struggled 
to loosen the rope that was around his wrists.

What the hell was going on?

The last thing he remembered was bending down to 
tie his shoe outside his apartment building, then 
hearing a man's voice.

A familiar voice.

Duane Barry's voice.

~~~~

By the time Scully pulled up in front of Mulder's 
building, she was a nervous wreck.  She knew she 
was probably overreacting and that he'd probably 
fallen asleep and didn't hear the phone, but still 
something didn't seem right.

After the ordeal he'd been through earlier in the 
day, it was certainly understandable that he might've 
just given in to his exhaustion and sacked out on 
the couch, but still, wouldn't he have called her 
and told her that he had changed his mind about 
coming over?

Getting out of her car, she scanned the surrounding 
area, looking for his car, but she didn't see it.  

Her heart pounding faster with each step, she walked 
towards the front entrance of the building and was 
just about to climb the steps when she noticed a 
small piece of glass on the sidewalk. Not wanting 
to step on it and cut her shoes, she bent down and 
picked it up.

Holding the tiny container up so that the light 
from the front door of the building could shine 
on it, she instantly knew what it was and where 
it had come from.

With trembling hands, she quickly pulled the 
flashlight out of her pocket and shone it on the 
sidewalk and surrounding area.

And that's when she saw it.

A thin piece of white over in the bushes.

She walked towards it, bent over, and picked it up. 
Holding her flashlight on what she could now see 
was a hospital wrist band, she gasped as she read 
the words on it:

Jefferson Memorial Hospital - Patient: Duane Barry.

~~~~

He didn't remember passing out again, but apparently 
he had, and apparently he had done it right after 
realizing that it was Duane Barry's voice he heard 
outside his apartment building.

But how long ago did all of it happen?

It was so dark where he was that he had absolutely 
no idea whether it was still night or if it was the 
next day.

But at least he knew where he was now.

He was in the trunk of a car, and judging from the 
smell of the gym socks and basketball shorts that 
were near his face, it was *his* car.

Two days ago he had gone to the gym and played a 
pickup game of basketball. Afterwards, he'd tossed 
his half-opened gym bag in the trunk and apparently 
had forgotten to take it out.

Turning his head to the left, he took another whiff 
to be sure, and it was definitely his sweaty clothes, 
which meant that this was definitely his car.

But where was Duane taking him, and why?

He tried to think about what he should do, but his 
mind felt fuzzy, and the smell of his dirty clothes 
and the rolling movement of the car were making him 
nauseous.

Closing his eyes, he desperately tried not to think 
about the queasiness in his stomach or the stiffness 
in his shoulders from having his wrists tied behind 
his back.  He tried not to think of how cramped his 
legs felt or how bitter the rag tied over his mouth 
tasted.

But he couldn't do it.

And he couldn't stop thinking about Scully.

Was she as scared right now as he was?

~~~~

7:03 am


"Mulder!"

Scully's eyes flew open as her own scream woke her 
up.

Her eyes rapidly blinking and trying to focus on 
her surroundings, it took her a moment to realize 
where she was.

Mulder's office.

Pushing herself away from the desk, she sat up 
straighter and brushed her hair off her face. She 
didn't remember coming here last night or falling 
asleep at his desk, but she remembered what had 
happened.

She remembered the rush of emotions that sliced 
through her heart as she watched the police tear 
apart Mulder's apartment looking for evidence.

She remembered seeing the look of fear in A.D. 
Skinner's eyes when she handed him the empty vial 
that the implant had been in and Duane's torn 
hospital ID bracelet.

She remembered the furious beating of her heart 
and the way her hand trembled as she stuffed the 
tiny implant inside her coat pocket and lied to 
the police about knowing where it was.

And she remembered Mulder's phone message.

He had wanted to talk to her last night...no, he 
*needed* to talk to her, and she wasn't home to 
pick up the phone.

And now he was gone.

He was gone, and she had no idea where to find 
him.

~~~~

Highway 50
Upperville, Virginia
11:20 am


Mulder floated in and out of consciousness, despite 
his attempts to keep himself awake and alert. They'd 
been driving awhile, and though his nauseousness had 
subsided, the ache in his cramped legs was becoming 
unbearable.

Where was Duane taking him anyway?

Were they in another state or still in Virginia? 
And what was he going to do when he finally did 
stop the car?  

Was he going to shoot him with his own gun? Hold 
him as a hostage? 

Or was he going to take him to the same place he 
had wanted to take Dr. Hakkie before?

Duane had said it was some kind of mountain he 
needed to go to, and that there were government 
people there who were going to take him away again 
and perform tests on him unless he could bring 
someone else instead.

Was that Duane's plan, to take him to a place 
where he would be abducted the same way his 
sister had been?

His body becoming uncomfortably numb and his 
mind reeling with too many possibilities, he 
closed his eyes again and let himself slip back 
into unconsciousness.

~~~~ 

Two hours later


Mulder's eyes fluttered open as he felt the car 
slow down almost to a stop. He didn't know how 
long they'd been driving, and he didn't know how 
far away he was from his apartment, but they were 
stopping, and right now that's exactly what he 
wanted.

To stop.

To escape.

He *had* to escape.

His heart instantly going from a slow beat to a 
frantic one, he anxiously tried to find something, 
anything, he could use to help free himself.

And he listened.

They were very faint, but he could distinctly hear 
two voices speaking.  During their ordeal at the 
travel agency, he got the impression that Duane 
was a loner, but maybe the other voice he was 
hearing belonged to his accomplice.

Was that why they were stopping, so that Duane 
could deliver him to someone else?

If he could just get himself untied, have his hands 
free, he knew he could overtake Duane, but two men...
he wouldn't have much of a chance against them in his 
weakened state.

Still, he had to try.

Balling up his hands into fists and flexing his arms 
as hard as he could, he gritted his teeth and tried 
to break the tape that was bound around his wrists. 
Feeling his right wrist pop out of place, he nearly 
passed out from the pain, but he didn't stop.

He couldn't stop, not when he was so close.

He could hear the two men's voices more clearly now 
than before, and he knew he had to work fast if he 
was going to do this. His heart rapidly pounding 
within his chest, he squeezed his eyes shut, bit 
his bottom lip, and tried one more time to pull 
his arms apart from behind his back so the tape 
would break.

The adrenaline surging through him was making him 
light-headed and his right wrist was throbbing and 
he could taste his own blood as he bit down even 
harder through the wet gag.  Stars danced beneath 
his eyelids and sweat trickled down the back of his 
neck as the last small section of tape finally broke, 
the ripping sound echoing against the dark walls of 
the trunk.

Letting out a huge sigh of relief, he wiped off his 
forehead and was just about to remove the gag from 
his mouth when he was startled by another sound.

A sound that sent a piercing chill through every 
nerve in his body.

A gunshot.

~~~~

Hoover Building
11:15 am


Scully rubbed her eyes and let out a sigh of frustration.  
She'd been trying for the past three hours to piece 
things together, to try to get inside Duane's head and 
figure out what his plan was, where he might be headed.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't think like him.  

If Mulder were here, he'd know what to do. He'd know 
what Duane was thinking. He'd know what his intentions 
were, what his childhood was like, whether or not he 
hated his parents, why he was doing what he was doing...

But he wasn't here.

He wasn't here, and so she had to use what she did 
know.

Science.

Standing up from Mulder's desk, she walked over to 
the coat rack. She reached deep inside the pocket, 
pinched two of her fingers around the tiny implant, 
and pulled it out.

It was flatter than the one she had removed from 
Ray Soames' body when they were on their first 
investigation together out in Oregon, yet both 
implants were apparently inserted into the victims' 
bodies without their consent.

Was it possible that there were other people walking 
around with implants too?  

And what exactly was its purpose? Mind control? A 
tracking device?

Slipping the tiny object back inside her coat pocket, 
she put it back on, did a quick brush of her hair 
with her fingers and straightened her clothes, then 
hurried towards the door.

"Agent Scully," said A.D. Skinner, cutting her off 
before she could get very far.

"Sir," she said, startled by his sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here? I thought I told you to 
go home and get some rest."

She defiantly tilted her chin upwards.  "You did, 
but with all due respect, sir, I can't just sit 
around and do nothing. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Hold on, Agent," he said, blocking the doorway so 
she couldn't get through.

"Why should I hold on?" she snapped, surprising 
both herself and him with her blatant defiance.  
"We should be out there looking for Mulder, and 
we should have every agent we can get out there 
looking for him, but what are we doing instead?  
Wasting our time arguing about whether or not I 
should be at home resting," she said, trying not 
to lose complete control. "Now get out of my way."

The older man looked at the exhaustion and desperation 
on her face, and it touched him in a way he wasn't 
expecting. In the short time she and Mulder had been 
under his charge, he had noticed things about them, 
about their relationship. Theirs was a partnership 
he both respected and admired, and he wanted to do 
whatever he could to help both of them now.

But he couldn't.

Not if he wanted to keep his job.

~~~~

Before he knew it, the car was moving again, and 
fast.

Who did Duane shoot, and why? 

Or maybe he didn't shoot anyone at all, and he was 
the one who had been shot.

Either way, it was a certainty that Duane would be 
even more pissed off now than he was before.

And more desperate.

Mulder pulled the gag away from his mouth, but left 
it draped around his neck, then cradling his sore 
wrist with his left hand, he used his shoulders 
and elbows to roll himself over so he was facing 
the back seat.

With his hands untied, maybe he could loosen some 
of the carpeting and see through to the front seat 
as well as better hear what was going on.

And then maybe, just maybe he could figure out a 
way to get himself out of this mess.

~~~~

"I understand how you feel, but I've got my best 
men working on this," said Skinner. He put his hand 
on her shoulder and added, "Look, I know you want 
to do everything you can, but you're too close to 
this case right now, Agent Scully."

"But sir..."

"Go home, Agent.  That's an order," he said firmly, 
though his heart wasn't in it.  Somehow he'd have 
to find a way around things, find a way to help her 
without anyone knowing about it.

If only he knew where to start.

"You look exhausted," he said, his voice softening 
as he lifted his hand off her shoulder. "I'll have 
someone drive you home."

"I think I can get home by myself just fine, thank 
you," she huffed, pushing her way past him and 
hurrying out the door, her heels noisily clicking 
on the linoleum floor.

~~~~

Scully closed her car door and slammed her hand 
against the steering wheel.

What the hell was she doing?

Defying her boss.  Lying.  Withholding evidence. 
Putting her career on the line.

And it was all because of Mulder.

Her partner.

Her friend.

The man, who despite her efforts not to let him 
in, had found his way inside her heart faster 
than any other man she'd ever known.

Smacking the steering wheel a second time, she 
wiped the moisture from her eyes, turned on the 
engine, and hurried out of the parking lot.

~~~~

A.D. Skinner's office
11:30 am


"Ah, Mr. Skinner, how nice of you to join me," 
said the man standing over in the corner of the 
room, the smoke from his cigarette slowly wafting 
up towards the ceiling.

"This is *my* office, and I belong here.  You 
don't," grumbled Skinner, trying to control his 
anger.

"Oh, do you now?" the man said, smugness dripping 
from his every word.

"Get out," said Skinner, walking over to his desk 
and standing behind it.

Taking a long drag off his cigarette, he said, 
"I understand that one of your agents is missing.  
It's a shame, really.  He was such a good man."

"What do you mean, 'was'? What do you know about 
Agent Mulder?  What have you done with him?" asked 
Skinner, gripping the edge of his desk to steady 
himself.

Walking over to the desk, he replied, "Why Mr. 
Skinner, I was merely making an observation. I 
assume his partner will be doing whatever she 
can to find him."

It was all he could do not to grab him by the 
collar and beat the truth out of him, but despite 
the contempt he felt for the older man standing 
in front of him, he also knew that losing control 
right now would not only hurt himself, but it 
would hurt his two agents as well.

"Don't. Go. Near. Agent Scully," said Skinner, 
his grip on the edge of the desk so tight now, 
his fingers were beginning to grow numb.

"Is that a threat, Mr. Skinner?" he asked, arrogantly 
taking a drag on his cigarette, then exhaling the 
smoke across the desk.

It's a promise, you son of a bitch. Hurt her, and 
you'll be hurt.  Permanently.

Those are the things he felt inside his gut, the 
words he wish he had the courage to say, but he 
couldn't.

Not yet.  

He had to stay calm and do things right. In other 
words, he had to play the game.

And he had to win.

For Mulder, for Scully.

For himself.

Standing taller behind the desk, he puffed out 
his chest, and warned, "Just stay away from her."

Taking one last long drag off his cigarette, he 
rubbed the loose ashes in the ashtray on the desk, 
and turned to leave.

"Stay out of my office," added Skinner, finally 
releasing his grip on the desk.

A slight smile crossing his face, the smoking man 
slowly pulled the door open and headed down the 
hallway.

Things were working out even better than he'd 
hoped.

~~~~

Tugging on the upholstery as quietly as he could, 
Mulder peeled away a little of it, enough to allow 
a tiny sliver of light to shine into the interior 
of the trunk.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen light.

Or Scully.

It seemed like weeks since they'd last talked, 
since she had tenderly put her arm around him 
once he'd been rescued from Duane and asked him 
if he was okay.

What was she doing now? Did she have any idea 
about where he was or who he was with?

If anyone could figure out how to find him, it 
was her, but still, the farther away Duane drove 
from the DC area, the slimmer his chances were 
of making it out of the situation alive.

No, he refused to think like that.

She would find him, he was certain of it. It was 
just a matter of when.

Scooting as close as he could to the small opening, 
he looked through it, hoping to see something that 
might help him, but all he saw was the dark blue 
fabric that covered the back seat.

Frustrated, exhausted, and sore from his earlier 
struggle with the tape, he rubbed his aching wrist 
and let his head drop onto the hard floor of the 
trunk.

~~~~

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
11:50 am


Scully pulled over and parked her car next to the 
curb outside the old warehouse. She felt strange 
about coming here, and yet somehow she knew that 
this is what Mulder would want her to do, what 
*he* would do if he were here.

She gave the area a quick scan to make sure she 
wasn't being followed, then got out of the car 
and quickly walked over to the side door.

It took three knocks and two presses of the buzzer, 
but the door finally opened, the three of them 
standing there as if they'd been waiting for her.

The short one, Frohike, stepped forward and awkwardly 
took her hand in his.  "Agent Scully."  Leading her 
inside and locking the door behind her, he said, 
"We heard, and we want to help."

"Just tell us what you need, and we'll do whatever 
we can," added the smartly dressed one.  

If she remembered correctly, his name was Byers.  
The third one, Langly, casually ran his hand over 
his long blonde hair, then plopped down on the 
couch.

She'd only met the three of them the one time 
Mulder had brought her here, but she could see 
why he trusted them, why he would sometimes come 
to them when he needed help.  Looking around the 
room, she was amazed by the amount and variety of 
electronic equipment they had, not to mention, the 
number of phones and computers that were hooked up.

"We heard about Mulder last night," said Byers 
somberly.

"There was a report on the police scanner, around 
midnight," stated Frohike. "They said it was Duane 
Barry and that he's got Mulder's car."

"Yeah, we were up all night, listening to reports, 
but they weren't saying much. What's the word at 
the FBI?" asked Langly.

She reached inside her coat pocket and grabbed the 
chip, nervously rolling it between her fingers as 
she looked down at the floor.  "They say they've 
got their best men looking for him," she replied.

"But you don't believe them?" said Frohike, walking 
over to her.

"I don't know what I believe anymore," she mumbled 
to herself, still clutching the implant.

"What can we do?" asked Langly.

What could they do?  

Could they actually find out something from Duane 
Barry's implant that would help her, or was coming 
here a dangerous mistake?

Looking around at the three of them, seeing their 
genuine concern for Mulder and their willingness 
to help, she decided to trust them.

With trembling fingers, she carefully pulled out 
the tiny object from her pocket and placed it in 
Frohike's gloved hand, then quietly said,  "I want 
you to find out whatever you can about this." 

~~~~

Mulder's apartment
12:30 pm


Scully stood in front of the door, her hand clutching 
the knob. Despite the fact that she and Mulder had 
known each other for over a year now, she'd actually 
only been to his apartment a handful of times.

The last time she'd been here she also had to let 
herself in with the key as she searched through his 
computer files and tried to figure out where he'd 
run off to.

But this time was different.

This time it wasn't his choice to leave for parts
unknown.

Turning the knob, she bent down and picked up his 
newspaper, then walked inside.  It felt odd to be 
there without him, and yet she felt a certain 
comfortableness the moment she closed the door 
behind her.

Looking around the room, she was struck by the 
amount of bright yellow crime tape that was there 
and the complete disregard the police had for 
Mulder's belongings.

The thought that some strangers had come into his 
home, invaded his space, and picked through his 
personal things made her angry, and the urge she 
had to pick everything up and put it back in its 
place before he got back became overwhelming.

And it was at that moment that it hit her.

What if he never came back?

What if all the things that Duane Barry had said 
last night about abductions were true?

And what if he took Mulder to prove it?

The thought that she might never see her partner 
again punched her in the gut with the force of a 
sledgehammer, and suddenly she felt herself falling, 
her knees buckling underneath her.

Quickly grabbing the arm of the couch, she lowered 
herself onto the cushion and made herself breathe.

She had to find him.

Somehow, some way, she had to find him.

Because without him, she was lost.

~~~~

Highway 340
White Post, Virginia


He could feel the car turning, just as he could 
feel his stomach turning, and it was all he could 
do to keep from vomiting all over himself.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, but 
still he knew that there was enough in his system 
to make things even more uncomfortable inside the 
small trunk if he were to lose the contents of his 
stomach.

Putting his hand over his mouth, he tried not to 
focus on the swaying of the car or the queasiness 
in his stomach, but on other things.

Namely, Scully.

She was an excellent investigator and an even better 
partner, but as much as he wanted to believe that 
she would find him, the more time that passed, the 
more difficult things would be for her.

By now, she'd probably searched through his office, 
searched his apartment, and gone over all the files 
and hospital records on Duane Barry with a fine 
tooth comb.

There wasn't really anything in any of those places 
that he could think of that would provide her with
any kind of clues as to his whereabouts, but still, 
if anyone could put all the pieces together, it 
would be Scully.

In the short time they'd known each other, he'd 
come to appreciate her rationalism and scientific 
approach to solving cases, and though they often 
didn't agree with each other, he respected her 
like no other partner he'd ever had before.

He also liked her.

No, it was more than that.

He trusted her.

~~~~

Scully stood from the couch, her legs much steadier 
than they were a few moments ago. Reaching inside 
her coat pocket, she felt for the familiar implant 
she'd been carrying around since last night, but 
quickly realized that it was no longer in her 
possession.

She still wasn't sure if handing it over to the 
Gunmen was the right thing to do, and yet she really 
didn't have a choice.  She couldn't use any of the 
FBI labs to run tests on the implant, and she 
certainly couldn't tell Skinner that she'd withheld 
evidence from him.

And so she'd trusted three men she barely knew based 
simply on the fact that Mulder trusted them.

In all honesty, she had no idea what they'd be able 
to find in or on the tiny device, if anything, but 
right now it was all she had to go on.

That, and her faith.

Tipping her head forward, she said a quick prayer, 
then took one last look around the room before 
leaving, quietly locking the door behind her.

~~~~

Up until now, the only sound he had heard other 
than his own rapidly beating heart was the steady 
roll of the tires over the road.

But now, he heard something else.

Was it music?

Scooting himself up as close as he could to the 
back of the trunk, he put his ear up to the 
upholstery where he knew the left speaker of the 
radio was located and listened.

The sound was muffled, but there was no mistaking 
the familiar voice he heard singing.

Elvis.

Then just as quickly as he heard the music, he 
heard the squeal of the tires as they suddenly 
veered to the right, the unexpected movement 
painfully compressing his legs into the side of 
the trunk as the car came to an abrupt halt.

He barely had a chance to gain his bearings and 
shift into a more comfortable position when the 
lid suddenly opened, the bright rays of the sun 
pouring into the dark trunk and blinding him.

"Get out," Duane gruffly ordered.

It was the last thing he heard before everything 
went black again.

~~~~

4:45 pm
Highway 231


When he opened his eyes, he found himself slumped 
in the front seat of his car, the side of his head 
pressed up against the window.  His ankles were 
tied together with one of his own sweat socks, and 
his arms were pinned behind him, his wrists tightly 
bound with the other sock.

Surprisingly, the gag that he had loosened before 
was no longer draped around his neck, and his mind 
immediately went into overdrive, trying to think 
of what he should say to his captor and how he 
should say it.

"I didn't want to hurt you," said Duane, turning 
to look at him, his knuckles whitening as he 
tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Lifting his head from the glass and slowly 
straightening himself up into a sitting position, 
Mulder glanced over at the disturbed man beside 
him.

"But Duane Barry didn't have a choice," he added, 
both his expression and his voice filled with the 
same fear he'd shown back at the travel agency 
the night before.

The way Duane referred to himself in the third 
person was obviously a way to emotionally distance 
himself from what was happening, but still Mulder 
found it extremely disconcerting.

Why didn't he have a choice?  Was someone making 
him do this?  Aliens?  The government?  

Or was he simply insane?

Whoever or whatever it was, he was a man on the 
edge.

"None of this is your fault, Duane," said Mulder 
calmly, his voice raspy from having a gag in it 
all those hours.  "I know that."

"You don't know anything...Mulder, that's your 
name, right?"

"Yes, it is...and I want to help you," he quietly 
replied, though at the moment he was hardly in the 
position to help anybody.  

"You wanna help Duane Barry?  You wanna help me 
the same way you helped me before...by setting me 
up to get shot?" he said, his voice rising, the 
veins in his forearms straining beneath his skin.

"I had nothing to do with that," said Mulder, trying 
to keep his own voice steady. "I only wanted to help 
you...and I still do."

And he wanted to understand him.  

He wanted to understand what he went through and to 
hear more about his abductions, about the government's 
involvement, about *why* they kept taking him, about 
so many things...

"They're making me do this, you know," mumbled 
Duane, his eyes focused straight ahead. "They're 
making me do all of it."

Mulder tried to shift in his seat and move his 
aching shoulders forward a little, but the seat 
belt held him back.  "Making you do what?" 

"They're not taking me again," he said, nervously 
rubbing his left hand on his pants leg as his foot 
pressed down harder on the accelerator.  "I told 
you before...they're not taking Duane Barry again...
not this time."

"And so you want them to take me instead," said 
Mulder matter-of-factly, his own words making him 
feel queasy.

Looking down at his watch, then over at his hostage, 
Duane slowed the car and pulled over onto the side 
of the road.  "You told me you wanted to go. You 
told me," he said, his voice low and shaky. "Last 
night, you said you didn't care what anyone thought, 
that you wanted to be taken," he added hopefully.

And then it all came back to him.

How he had gotten so wrapped up in what Duane was 
saying about being abducted that he offered to be 
taken in place of Dr. Hakkie.

How despite knowing that what he was doing went 
against everything he'd been taught at the FBI 
academy, he did it anyway, wanting so desperately 
to know what it was *really* like to be taken 
aboard a spaceship.

And what it was like for his sister...

"You still want to go, don't you?" asked Duane, 
startling him from his thoughts.

*Did* he still want to go?

Did he really want to see and feel what it was like, 
to experience the emotional and physical torment 
that so many abductees had been telling him about 
for years?

Of course, he didn't, but Duane didn't know that.

"Where are you taking me, Duane?" he asked, hoping 
that he could gain his trust the way he'd done last 
night.

Duane turned his head and looked out the window, 
then looked down at his watch again before answering, 
"I'll know when we get there."

"How will you know, Duane?  Will they tell you?" 
asked Mulder, deciding to push his luck.

"It's getting dark.  We don't have much time," he 
stated firmly.

Mulder nervously wiggled his hands behind his back 
and tried to loosen the sock tied around his wrists.  
"You didn't answer my question, Duane. Who's telling 
you to do this?" he asked with a steady voice, though 
inside it felt as if his heart was pumping at twice 
its normal rate.

Reaching over and suddenly grabbing a fistful of 
Mulder's shirt in his hand, he shouted, "Duane 
Barry's not going back there again, not ever!"

Duane's unexpected outburst startled him, and for 
a moment he simply froze, every muscle in his body 
tightening into a knot.

But then just as quickly he regained his composure, 
looking his panicked captor right in the eye and 
calmly replying, "You don't have to go.  You can 
turn this car around right now, and we can go back, 
Duane. We can go back, and I'll help you.  I'll 
protect you from Them if you just turn around and 
take us both back to DC. It can work, Duane, it 
can, if you want it to."

Duane closed his eyes and tilted his head to the 
side, obviously considering what his hostage had 
just said, but quickly opened his eyes again.  
Finally letting go of Mulder's shirt, he leaned 
in closer to his face and asked, "You trying to 
BS Duane Barry?" 

"I'm telling you the truth, just as I told you the 
truth last night.  I want to help you, Duane, but 
you have to let me."

And he did want to help him.

Despite the pain he'd been put through, despite 
everything that had happened last night and was 
happening now, Mulder wanted to help him.

And judging from the expression that was on Duane's 
face right now, he apparently wanted the same thing.  
Quietly returning to his side of the car, he leaned 
back against the seat cushion and let out a defeated 
sigh.

"It'll be okay, Duane, it will be," said Mulder, a 
feeling of relief sweeping over him, though he knew 
that things were far from over. "Just turn the car 
around, and we can work this all out when we get 
back."

Starting up the engine again, Duane slowly pulled 
back onto the deserted road, then suddenly pressed 
his foot down hard on the accelerator.

"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, but I can't go back...and 
neither can you."

~~~~

Scully's apartment


Scully sat at the kitchen table, its surface covered 
with papers, photos, and maps. Picking up one of the 
photos, she held it up close to her face so she could 
get a better look at it.  It was a close-up shot of 
the implant that had been removed from Duane Barry's 
abdomen, the same implant she'd handed over to the 
gunmen.

What exactly was its purpose?  Was it possible it 
could actually be some sort of tracking device, or 
was Duane completely delusional about its capabilities?

Listening to him speak to Mulder yesterday at the 
travel agency she'd been so sure that what he was 
saying had absolutely no basis in reality, that 
he'd fabricated the whole thing, but now...

Now she didn't know what to believe.

Tossing the photo across the table in frustration, 
she reached to her left to retrieve a small piece 
of paper with a phone number written on it, then 
picked up the phone.

"Lone Gunmen," a voice answered. It sounded like 
Frohike, but she wasn't quite sure.

"Is this Frohike?" she asked, nervously rubbing 
her chin.

"Agent Scully, is that you?" he replied.

"Yes. I was calling to see if you'd found..." she 
said, abruptly stopping herself as she realized 
that someone might be tapping the phone.

"Actually, we were just about to call you," he 
said. There was a pause, and then his voice again, 
but softer. "We thought you might like to come over 
for dinner tonight.  We've got a surprise for you, 
something we'd really like you to see," he added, 
putting a subtle emphasis on the words 'surprise' 
and 'see.'

Understanding his "code", she said, "That sounds 
great. What time do you want me to come over?"

"The sooner the better," he answered.

"I can be there in fifteen minutes," she said, 
hanging up without saying goodbye.

Her heart racing in anticipation of the possibility 
that they might've found something that would help 
her save Mulder, she hastily grabbed her car keys 
from the counter and headed out the door.

~~~~

Skyland Mountain
8:13 pm


Mulder struggled to open his eyes, his lids heavy, 
his head pounding.  Rolling over onto his side, 
he inhaled, his nose catching a whiff of something 
very unpleasant.

Wet dirt.  

His brain suddenly snapping to attention, he blinked 
his eyes several times and tried to focus on his 
surroundings.  The last thing he remembered was 
being in the front seat of his car with Duane Barry, 
his head jerking forward and hitting the dashboard 
as Duane slammed his foot on the accelerator.

So, how did he go from sitting in the front seat 
to lying on the ground in the middle of nowhere?

"I'm not going back there," said a low voice from 
behind him.  "They're not taking me again."

He quickly recognized the voice as Duane's and 
tried to push himself up off the ground, but 
found that he couldn't, his ankles still bound 
together with his socks and his hands still tied 
behind his back.

"Duane?"

"They're not taking Duane Barry again, they're 
not," he said, walking around to where Mulder 
could see him, then crouching down a few feet 
in front of him.  

Grunting as he awkwardly maneuvered himself up 
into a sitting position, Mulder took note of 
Duane's dark eyes, his sweaty face, his trembling 
hands. The man was clearly terrified.

And right now, so was he.

"How do you know They want to take you, Duane?" 
he asked, trying as hard as he could to keep his 
voice calm and steady.

Duane stood back up again.  "They told me."

"Who told you?"

"Them."

Mulder quickly scanned the area, looking for 
anything that might give him a clue as to where 
they were or how he could he escape, but there 
was nothing but darkness surrounding him.

"They told you They were going to take you?" he 
reiterated, still trying to remain calm and keep 
him talking.

Duane began to pace back and forth, his fists 
clenched.  "They told me I wouldn't have to go 
this time if I brought someone else...and there's 
no way in hell I'm going back there," he said, 
suddenly bending down and taking hold of Mulder's 
shirt like he had before. His face only inches 
away from him now, he shouted, "They're not going 
to take Duane Barry this time!"

Duane's outburst upset him, but not as much as 
the revelation that someone had talked to him at 
the hospital did.  The last time he'd checked on 
him there, he was still unconscious and unresponsive.

So, how was anyone able to talk to him, and who 
was it? An alien?  Someone from the government?

Or had he simply heard voices in his head as he 
slept?

"They told you to bring someone here, to this 
exact spot?"

Letting go of Mulder's shirt, he stood up again.  
"I've been here before," he said. "I knew where 
to go."  

Mulder's eyes widened with both fear and fascination.  
"You've been here before, on this same hill in this 
same exact spot?  Why?"

Duane sat down on the damp ground in front of his 
hostage, just far enough away from him so that he 
couldn't kick him or try anything else to escape. 
"It's where They always make me go so Their ship 
can take me."  Then he quietly added, "Unless They 
decide They want to take me from my house."

"They've abducted you from the top of this hill 
before?  When?" 

Duane rubbed the sweat from his forehead, wiped 
his hand on his shirt, then looked up at the sky, 
completely ignoring his question. "They're coming," 
he said with certainty.

Mulder looked up at the sky too, but saw nothing 
except a few stars. "How do you know They're coming, 
Duane?" he asked, a cool rush of air harshly sweeping 
over him.

"I feel it.  They're coming," he muttered as he 
suddenly stood up from the ground and started to 
walk away. "Have to go now..."

And Mulder felt it too, the air around him becoming 
even colder, chilling him right through to the bone.

"What are you doing?  You can't just leave me here!" 
he shouted, frantically trying to loosen the ties 
around his wrists.

"Have to go...have to get out of here...They're 
coming...have to go..." chanted Duane as if he were 
in a trance.

And then They *were* there, a bright yellow light 
unexpectedly appearing out of nowhere and blinding 
his vision.

"What's happening!" yelled Mulder, twisting and 
turning, his muscles pulling and snapping as he 
desperately tried to free himself. "Duane! Duane!  
Help me!" 

But Duane couldn't help him.

He was already gone.

~~~~

Lone Gunmen Headquarters
8:30 pm


"How're you doing, Agent Scully?" asked Frohike, 
both his voice and his face filled with concern.

"I'm fine," she answered, even though she and 
everyone else in the room knew that she was 
anything but fine.  "What have you found?" she 
asked, her legs feeling like rubber as she walked 
over to the table.

"Take a look," said Langly, pointing to the computer
screen.

She bent down to look at it more closely.  "What 
is it?  What are those marks right there?"

Byers stepped forward. "We haven't been able to 
determine that yet. It appears to be some sort of 
artillery fragment, but those markings are too 
intricately etched in there for it to be that."

"So, what do you think it is?"

The men exchanged looks with each other, their 
unspoken conversation unnerving her. "What? What 
aren't you telling me?" she asked, her voice on 
edge.

Frohike walked over to her.  "Agent Scully...we 
think it's some sort of tracking device, a 
transmitter used to send messages, and maybe even 
monitor a person's thoughts," he said sheepishly, 
wondering how she'd react to his conclusions.

She leaned against the table and considered what 
he was saying, weighing the possibility of his 
theory with what she'd seen during the past year 
on the X-Files. Then surprising all three of them, 
she stood straight up again and softly said, "I 
think you might be right."

"You do?" said Byers, his eyebrows raising.

"Yes, I do," she answered, bending over and looking 
at the tiny marks on the implant again.

But how?  How could such delicate markings monitor 
what a person was thinking?

If Mulder were there with her right now, he'd 
already have a theory as to how it was possible 
as well as several ideas as to why someone would 
want to design such a device.

But he wasn't there.

He wasn't there, and she still wasn't any closer 
to finding him than she was before.

Biting her bottom lip in frustration, she walked 
over to the door, took hold of the handle.  "I 
really appreciate all you've done, but I need 
you to keep digging, okay?" she said, trying to 
keep her emotions in check.

"We'll do everything we can, Agent Scully," said 
Frohike, his voice, compassionate, determined.

"I know you will," she said, studying the faces 
of the three strangers she'd come to rely on, then 
quietly closing the door behind her.

~~~~ 

For years he'd wondered what it was like to be 
abducted, not because he wanted to be abducted 
himself, but because he had to know.

He had to know what all the people he'd interviewed 
had experienced as they were being taken.  What 
they saw and heard.  What they felt.

What Samantha felt.

Did she feel like her body was being torn apart as 
They lifted her into the air?  Did the shrill noise 
of the ship pierce her ears, the yellow light burn 
her eyes? 

Did she try to fight back, only to find that she 
was completely powerless?

That's what he felt. 

And then he felt nothing, the bright light swallowing 
him whole.

~~~~

Mulder's apartment


She couldn't remember driving to his apartment, 
but she did, her car now parked out on the street 
right in front of his building. She knew there was 
nothing she could do for him once she went inside, 
and yet she had been drawn here, drawn back to a 
place that was a part of him.  Turning off the 
engine, she got out of the car and headed up to 
the fourth floor.

The yellow crime tape was still in place from 
before, and she found herself getting angry all 
over again at how the police had invaded Mulder's 
home.  Sure, she knew they were just doing their 
job, but still, the mess they'd made seemed more 
than what was necessary.

Picking up a pillow that was on the floor, she 
placed it back on the couch, then walked into 
his kitchen where her eyes were immediately drawn 
to the coffee mug sitting on the counter. She'd 
never pegged Mulder for an Elvis fan, and yet 
there was his mug, its surface covered with a 
young Elvis in black and white.

She thought she'd gotten to know her partner 
pretty well over the past year, but looking more 
closely at the mug on the edge of the counter, 
she realized that there were a lot of things she 
didn't know about him.

Did he like to read the newspaper at the kitchen 
table while drinking his morning coffee?  Was he 
a basketball fan or was baseball his game?  Did 
he like to play video games or did he prefer 
reading a good book?

And why sunflower seeds? Was there a reason why 
he liked them so much?

Picking up the mug from the counter, she looked 
at the picture of Elvis smiling back at her, and 
she wondered. 

Would she ever get to see Mulder smile again?

~~~~

He was hovering or maybe he was flying.  Either 
way, he didn't care.

He knew his arms and legs were still attached to 
his body, and yet they felt completely weightless.  
His head felt weightless too, and his mind was 
free of all thoughts.

Was he dreaming or was he dead?  

He didn't know, but he wasn't in pain anymore, 
and for now that was good enough.

~~~~

The thought that she might never see Mulder smile 
again, never hear him crack another lame joke, 
never see his eyes shine with passion as he 
explained a new case made her feel sick to her 
stomach.

Literally.

With her hand over her mouth, she darted to the 
bathroom and not being able to make it as far as 
the toilet, emptied what little she had in her 
system into the sink.  Using the edge of the 
porcelain to prop herself up, she then turned 
on the cold water and helplessly watched as the 
rancid pieces of yesterday's lunch were pulled 
down the drain.

Was this what it was like for Mulder? 

Was he being pulled down into someplace dark too?

~~~~

The last thing he remembered was the light.

Or was it the darkness?

And he was still hovering.

Or was he flying?

Struggling to open his eyes, he tried to focus on 
his surroundings, but his lids felt so heavy, so 
very heavy, and he couldn't see where he was or 
what They were doing to him and he couldn't feel 
anything and he was cold, so very cold...

~~~~

A.D. Skinner's Office
9:02 pm


Skinner placed the phone back on the receiver, 
took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. He'd 
been working tirelessly since his agent's 
disappearance, and although he couldn't help 
feeling somewhat relieved to know that Mulder's 
car had now been found, the news he'd just 
received was very unsettling.

If neither Mulder nor Duane Barry were anywhere 
near the car, where the hell were they?

After his earlier encounter with the cigarette-
smoking man, he was almost certain that he was 
the one responsible for what had happened.  He 
just hadn't figured out how.

Or why.

Why was it so damn important to get Mulder out 
of the way anyway?

Sure, he was an excellent investigator, relentless 
in his pursuits, and dedicated to finding out the 
truth, but those weren't reasons for hurting him.

Were they?

Slowly putting his glasses back on, Skinner picked 
up the phone again, then nervously pressed the 
buttons.

What would he say to Scully when she answered?  
How could he tell her that they located Mulder's 
car, but that her partner was nowhere to be found?

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tightened his grip on 
the receiver and waited for her to answer.

~~~~

The next time Mulder opened his eyes, he was more 
alert.  His vision was still fuzzy, but there was 
no mistaking what he saw when he looked down.

His skin.

He was completely naked, his wrists and ankles 
strapped to the sides of the table he was lying 
on, his stretched out penis hooked up to some sort 
of electric tubular device.

What the hell?

He'd seen many porno flicks over the years, but 
he'd never seen anyone's dick receive the treatment 
his was getting at the moment.

And he'd never felt more violated.

He tried to move, tried to scream, but the straps 
were too strong and the gag in his mouth was too 
tight.

All he could do was close his eyes and wait for 
it to be over.

~~~~

"Scully."

"Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Skinner."

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of her 
superior's voice, her grip on the phone tightened.  

"Have they found Mulder?" she immediately asked, 
closing her eyes and bracing herself for his 
response.

There was a pause followed by a big sigh, and then 
an answer.

"They found his car," he replied, knowing that 
she'd want to hear every detail, but not sure he 
could tell her over the phone.

Or if he even wanted to.

"Where? Is he okay? What hospital did they take 
him to?" she asked in a rush, her throat clenching 
around her words, her fingers squeezing the phone 
in anticipation of his answer.

Silence.

"Sir?" 

"He's not in the hospital, Dana," he said, her 
boss's voice lower than she'd ever heard it before.

And different.

As her superior, he'd always addressed her as Agent 
Scully or even sometimes just Scully, but in all 
the time that she'd worked for him he'd never 
called her Dana.

And it was then that she knew.

"He's still missing," she stated, trying to keep 
both her hands and her voice from shaking.

More silence.

"And Duane Barry?" she asked, her head swimming 
with a million thoughts as she tried to process 
the information.

"He's missing too," answered Skinner, clearing his
throat on the other end of the line. "But I've got 
a team searching the area where the car was found, 
and I'm confident that they'll be able to find 
something that will help us locate both Agent 
Mulder and Duane Barry."

"I want to help, sir," she said, her fingers 
fumbling in her coat pocket for her car keys.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Agent Scully,"
he said nervously.

"Why not?"

"I told you before, you're too close to this case,
too emotionally involved," he argued.

"Of course, I'm emotionally involved. Agent Mulder 
is my partner, and I'm not just going to sit around 
here waiting for someone else to tell me what's 
happened to him.  Now tell me where you are, and 
I'll get there as soon as I can," she said firmly, 
knowing she was being pushy, but not caring.

There was yet another long pause on the phone, and 
then he spoke again. "We're off Highway 55, southwest 
of Front Royal, Virginia near a place called Skyland 
Mountain," he said reluctantly. 

"Thank you, sir," she said, closing her eyes with 
relief.

After another awkward moment of silence, he gruffly 
added, "Don't make me regret this, Agent."

"I'm on my way," she replied, pressing the end 
button on her phone.  

Stuffing the phone back into her coat pocket, she 
looked around Mulder's apartment again, at the 
clutter on the floor, at the yellow crime tape 
draped around his computer desk, then hurried out 
the door.

~~~~

This time when his eyes opened, he was surprised 
to see that he was in an ordinary looking room 
with ordinary things in it.

A bed, a desk and chair, lights on the ceiling.

And he wasn't naked.

He was wearing what looked like a hospital gown, 
and though his skin didn't feel as cold as it 
did before, he was far from being comfortable.  
Not only were his wrists and ankles still strapped 
to the table he was lying on, but there was someone 
else in the room with him.

"Who are you?" he croaked, his vocal cords shredded 
and raw, from what he didn't know.

"Someone who's interested in you," answered the 
big man standing above him. His cheeks were puffed 
out like he had marbles inside his mouth, his eyes 
dark and penetrating.

"Why?" he rasped, his eyes widening with fear as 
the big man leaned over him, his strange smelling
breath sweeping across his face.

"You have something we need," the big man replied.
Standing straight up again, his dark eyes quickly
scanned over Mulder's face, his chest, his abdomen, 
his groin area.

And then just as quickly, he left again, turning 
off the lights without another word.

~~~~

Front Royal, Virginia
11:05 pm


She didn't remember driving 70 miles an hour in 
the dark.

She didn't remember the buildings she passed, the 
stoplights she stopped for, or the fact that the 
arrow on her fuel gauge had moved down to empty 
a half hour ago.

All she knew was that somewhere along the way 
she'd started crying, and now she couldn't stop.

Blinking back the tears, she tightly squeezed the 
steering wheel and veered to the right. According 
to the sign at the end of the exit ramp, it was 
only another five miles to Skyland Mountain.

Another five miles, and she'd be at the last place
Mulder was.

What would she see when she got there?

Would the police still be there, picking apart his 
car the way they'd picked apart his apartment?

Would there be dogs nervously scurrying around, 
sniffing the area for traces of his blood?

Or would they already be done going over all the 
evidence, leaving her with nothing to do but wonder?

Although she knew she wasn't the one in charge of
the investigation, she had to see everything that
was there in his car, on the ground, out in the 
surrounding woods.

She had to study the evidence in front of her on 
her own time, in her own way, then try to determine
a possible scenario and a possible motive.

It's what Mulder would do if she were the one that
was missing, and it's what she had to do.

She only hoped that she'd be able to put all the 
pieces together once she did.

~~~~

She looked so beautiful.

The smoothness of her skin.  The faint sprinkling 
of freckles around her nose. The graceful arch of 
her eyebrows.

The deep blue of her eyes.

But these things weren't what made her truly 
beautiful to him.

It was who she was.

A woman who respected him, trusted him, listened 
to him.

A woman who, even though she often disagreed with
him, made him feel like he was worth something.

"Scully, is that you?" he asked, trying to focus 
on her face in the dark.

"Yes Mulder, it's me," she replied.

"I knew you'd find me," he said with relief as he
held out his palm to her.

She placed her hand in his and gently squeezed his 
fingers. "Of course, I found you. You have something 
we need."

He looked up at her in confusion.  "What?  I don't
understand."

"You have something we need to make our plans work,"
she replied, letting go of his hand and running 
her fingers over his abdomen, then sliding them 
underneath the blanket and taking hold of his penis.

"Jesus Scully, what the hell are you doing?" he 
snapped as he tried to reach up and push her hand 
away.

Tightening her hold on him, she replied, "I'm just
taking what we need, Mulder."

His body suddenly jerked awake then, his eyes 
widened as he frantically looked around the room 
trying to find her, but all he saw was darkness.

And all he heard was the roaring sound of his heart
pounding in his chest.

~~~~ 

Skyland Mountain


Shoving his hands inside his coat pockets, A.D. 
Skinner turned away from the opened trunk of the 
car and closed his eyes, then took a deep breath.

If looking inside Mulder's car was this unsettling 
to him, how would Scully feel when she examined 
it?

There were traces of blood on the front passenger 
seat, the passenger window, and inside the trunk.
The fabric in the trunk near the back of the driver's 
seat was also torn away, and there were scuff marks 
on the right inside part of the compartment, probably 
made from the soles of Mulder's shoes as he struggled 
to get out.

Knowing his agent the way he did, he could only 
imagine how hard Mulder must've fought, that is, 
unless Duane had done something to him so that 
he was unable to fight.

He'd already received the report of Duane shooting 
and killing an officer along Highway 50.  Was it 
possible that he shot Mulder too?

No, he refused to believe that, and he knew that 
once Scully took a look at everything, she'd refuse 
to believe it too.

So, what the hell happened to him then, and why?

Why was it necessary to resort to such violence 
just to get Mulder out of the way?

He'd been asking himself that same question several 
times over the past two days, but standing here now 
looking at the evidence, seeing where his agent had 
been trapped and possibly tortured, he felt angrier 
and more frustrated than he'd ever been.

And he felt afraid.

Afraid for Mulder, yes, but also for Scully.

It was true he'd only known the pair of agents for 
a little over a year, but in that time he'd watched
them form a partnership that was unlike any other
he'd ever seen.

What would it do to her if Mulder was found dead
somewhere?

Or maybe even worse than that, what if he were 
never found at all?

~~~~

Since he'd arrived here, They'd abused his body
and messed with his mind, but none of it compared
to what They'd just done to him.

Somehow They'd made him see Scully, made him *feel*
her.

Made him question his trust in her.

He knew she really hadn't been here with him, that 
she really hadn't violated him.

Or had she?

"Mulder."

"Scully?"

"Mulder, wake up.  I have to tell you something."

"Who are you?" he asked, straining his neck, trying
to see who was talking to him.

"It's me, Scully," she replied, her voice soft and 
feminine.

"You're not Scully."

"Yes, I am. I'm your partner on the X-Files.  Don't 
you remember me, Mulder?"  She stepped forward then 
and bent over him.

Looking up at her, feeling her warm breath on his
face, staring into her eyes, he could almost believe
that it was the same woman he'd grown to care about 
over the past year.

Almost.

"You're not her," he said firmly.

She leaned over him even more, their faces only 
inches apart from each other. "Of course, I am, and 
I'll prove it to you," she said, gently pressing her 
mouth to his.

Her lips were soft and moist and sweet and everything
else he expected them to be for their first kiss, and 
before he knew it, he was greedily kissing her back, 
their tongues tangling, their teeth bumping together, 
and the only sound in the room the ragged rhythm of
their breathing.

But then just as quickly as it began, it was over.

"Scully?" he asked, his eyes darting around the room,
looking for her.

"Scully's not here," the big man replied, a slight 
smirk on his face as he stepped forward.  "And you 
won't be here much longer either."

And with those ominous words, he turned off the 
lights and left the room, leaving Mulder alone in 
the dark.

Again.

~~~~

She knew.

She knew the moment she stepped out of her car.

She couldn't even begin to explain it, but standing 
here now near the place where Mulder last was, she 
knew that what she'd been trying to deny for the 
past two days was true.

Somehow, some way he'd been abducted.

She wasn't ready to believe that it was by aliens, 
but by someone who had a reason for taking him.  
Not Duane Barry, but someone more powerful, more 
vengeful.

Someone more heartless.

"Agent Scully, are you all right?" asked Skinner,
quickly walking over to her car and standing beside 
her.

"Where's his car?" she asked, her hands trembling,
her knees shaking as she started to climb the hill 
where all the flashing lights were. "I need to see 
his car," she mumbled, her legs somehow moving 
though she couldn't feel them. "I need to see it."

"Agent Scully," Skinner called out, but as much
as he wanted to go after her, he forced himself
to stay put.  He knew she needed to do this alone 
in her own way, in her own time.

He only hoped she'd be strong enough to walk back 
down the hill when she was done.

~~~~

It was perfection, really.

One partner missing due to unusual circumstances,
the other partner frantic with worry over him.

He couldn't have written a better scenario.

Watching her now, seeing the desperation on her 
face, the fear, the affection she obviously felt 
for him was a thing of beauty.

And once They got what They needed and returned 
him to her, all the same emotions would continue
to play themselves out between them, he was sure 
of it.

Taking one more look at Agent Scully and one last
drag from his cigarette, he crept back down the 
hill and disappeared into the woods.

~~~~

It was a drill this time, and a different table.

Its flat metal surface felt warm against his back
unlike the drill bearing down on his teeth.  It 
was cold and round and noisy, its loud vibrations
piercing his ears.

Was this the same thing They had done to Duane
Barry when They abducted him?

Duane's screams of "They drilled holes in my damn 
teeth!" repeated over and over in his head, then
seeped down into every pore in his skin. 

And then he heard himself screaming.

His voice was screaming and his arms were struggling
and his muscles were straining, but still the drill
kept coming.

The pointed tip kept spinning and grinding against 
his teeth, relentlessly chipping away at the enamel, 
at his fillings, at the edges of his gums.

And chipping away at who he was.

One piece at a time.

~~~~

She knew she wasn't supposed to touch any of the
evidence, but she also knew that she had to.

She had to touch the things that Mulder had last
touched.  She had to feel them, learn from them, 
make conclusions about them.

And then she had to make herself walk back down 
the hill when she was finished.

Somehow.

"Agent Scully," said A.D. Skinner, walking up behind 
her and putting his hand on her arm. "Don't do this 
to yourself. We have plenty of other agents here who 
can go over this, who can..."

Jerking her arm away from him, she tilted her chin 
up and cut him off before he could say anything 
else.  "With all due respect, sir, I don't believe 
the other agents here are qualified to go over this
evidence nor do they have the interest in this case 
that I do," she declared firmly, though her voice 
was quivering.

Of course, he knew she was justified in what she 
was saying, but he also knew that she was exhausted 
and too emotionally involved to be objective about 
what to do.

"I understand how you feel, Agent Scully," he said
sympathetically.  "But I don't think you truly
understand all the implications of what's happening
here."

"What implications?  What aren't you telling me, 
sir?" she asked, her eyes pleading for answers.

He wanted to tell her that he thought Mulder was set 
up, that it was the smoking man who was responsible.
He wanted to tell her that as soon as Mulder was
returned, he'd make that son-of-a-bitch pay for 
what he'd done.

He wanted to tell her that he'd do whatever he had 
to do to bring her partner back.

But he couldn't.

He couldn't play his cards with her or anyone else.

Not yet, anyway.

He had to be patient and wait for the right 
opportunity. He had to play the game the way he 
hated and hope that it was the right way.

"Sir, what is it?  Do you know what happened to 
him?" she asked hopefully, her hands curling up 
into fists inside her coat pockets.

Bending down closer to her face, he quietly said, 
"I wish I could tell you what you want to know, 
but I can't."

"You can't or you *won't*?" she asked, looking up 
into his eyes.

Damn.

He lowered his head. "I can't, Dana," he admitted.

"Then I have nothing more to say to you, sir," she
declared, turning away from him and hurrying back
down the hill.

"Agent Scully," he called out. "Where are you going?"

Where was she going?

She wished she knew.

Stuffing her hands even deeper into her coat pockets, 
she looked up into the dark night sky, then kept on 
walking.

~~~~

Mulder had listened to hundreds of abduction stories 
over the years, heard hundreds of horror tales, but 
he never expected that he would have his own story 
to tell now.

The thing was he wasn't sure what to say if someone
actually did ask him to recount what was happening 
to him here.

He knew that at one point he'd been hovering.  

Or was it flying?

He knew that for as long as he'd been here, his 
wrists and ankles had been strapped to a table
with metal clamps.

Or were they tied with ropes?

And he knew that he'd seen and felt things being 
done to his body that weren't really real.

Or were they?

He also thought he'd been brought here with Duane
Barry, but now he couldn't remember that either.

Slowly trying to get up from the table he was on, 
he was surprised to find that neither his wrists 
or his ankles were restrained this time, and that
he could actually sit up.

Looking around the room, he could immediately see 
that it was filled with at least a dozen rows of 
tables, and each table occupied by a body.  Not
caring about the fact that his own body was 
completely naked, he got up from the table and 
started walking up and down each row, studying
each person as he went.

There appeared to be both men and women lying on
the tables, all sizes and ages, all nude like he 
was, all of them hooked up to various types of 
monitoring machines.

And none of them moving.

Were they in some sort of unconscious state, or 
were they already dead?

And why were they even here in the first place?  

Had they undergone the same tests he had, or were
they here because of a completely different agenda?

Continuing his walk through the rows of still 
bodies, he couldn't help thinking that he'd seen 
something like this before.

An old warehouse on a deserted street. Naked men 
floating in containers that looked like large 
aquariums. Computer monitors and long thin tubes.

But where had he seen those things? Were they 
things he saw while working on the X-Files, or 
had he seen them in this place before?

He closed his eyes and tried to think, tried to 
make sense out of what he was looking at, but 
his head felt thick and fuzzy, his thoughts 
disjointed.

Stepping closer to one of the women's bodies, he
looked at the tube hooked up to her, then turned 
his head towards the beeping monitor attached to 
it.

Was her body eventually going to be suspended in 
water too?  

And what about him? What were Their plans for him?

The thought that he might end up hooked to a bunch
of tubes and floating in a tank made him feel sick
to his stomach, and his body involuntarily lurched 
forward, his mouth trying to expel what little he 
had inside himself.

"Not feeling well, Mulder?" a female voice asked, 
startling him from behind.

Holding onto the table in front of him for support,
his other arm wrapped around his stomach, his head
still lowered, he asked, "Who's there?"

"It's me...Scully. Don't you know my voice by now?" 
she answered.

Standing up straight, he stared at the woman in 
front of him.  Unlike him, she was wearing clothes
and shoes.  "You lied to me before," he stated, 
awkwardly trying to cover his lower body with his 
arms. "Why should I believe you this time?"

"Because you believe everything, that's why. 
It's who you are, Mulder," she said, taking a 
step closer to him.

Her close proximity made him feel uncomfortable
and was heightened even more by the fact that he 
was nude, and she wasn't.

"Who I am?  You don't know anything about me," he 
declared, cautiously taking two steps backwards.

"I know you're my partner, and I know that you 
trust me.  What more is there to know?" she said 
matter of factly as she moved over by him again 
and touched his arm.

He studied her petite frame, looked into her blue 
eyes, felt her soft fingers flutter across his 
skin.

But it wasn't her.  How could it be?

How could she really be here with him and not say 
anything about the fact that he was standing in 
front of her buck naked?

And how come she wasn't helping him get away right
now?

The real Scully would've found a blanket or sheet
to put over him, then helped him sneak out of the
room and find a way out of this place by now.

Yet she stood beside him and did nothing.

"I told you before.  You're not Scully.  You're
just in my mind...or something..." he stuttered,
pushing her hand off his arm.

"If I was only in your mind, would I be able to
do this?" she asked, running her fingers over his
bare hip, then down along the inside of his thigh.

He tried to move away from her, get away from her
seductive touch, but he couldn't, his mind unable 
to make his legs step backwards.

"Or this..." she said, moving behind him, cupping
her hand around his left buttock, then giving it 
a squeeze.

"Stop it," he said weakly. "You're not her. You're
not real."

Circling around him, her fingers slowly traveled 
over his ass, his hip, his thigh, then lightly 
skittered along the length of his now hardened 
penis.  

"I'm as real as you want me to be, Mulder," she 
said softly, standing up on her tiptoes and 
kissing him, her lips barely brushing across his. 
"As real as you want me to be..." she whispered 
again, her tongue flicking out to tease his lips 
a second time.

It was all too much for him then, the sensations
rushing through his body too powerful, too real, 
and before he knew it he was kissing her too.

No, he was *devouring* her.

His teeth bit down on her lip as his hips thrusted
forward and his hands tore at her clothes...closer,
closer, he had to get closer.

"More," she said, her fingernails scratching his 
lower back, her breath hot against his bare chest.

"Scul...lee," he moaned into her mouth, pulling
her down onto the floor between two tables and
roughly spreading her legs apart.  "You're real,
you're real...you have to be..." he grunted, 
quickly lining up their hips, then plunging 
inside of her.

The next thing he felt was his body falling.

He was falling and he was struggling, struggling
against straps and drills and noisy machines 
pulling on his skin.

And he was screaming, screaming in an empty room
for help that would never come.

What was this dark place he was in?  Was it a 
nightmare, or was this his reality now?

His eyes suddenly flying open, he frantically 
looked around the room, searching for Scully, but 
immediately realized that he was in a different 
room now and was strapped to a table again.  

It felt like the table he was on before, but 
unlike the other time when he woke up, the room 
he was in was anything but ordinary.  

Lined up along on the right side of him were more 
metal tables, all of them with women lying on them, 
their wrists and ankles strapped down the way his 
were.

But to his left, there was only one table, and on
it was a man, his lifeless body loosely covered 
with a white sheet.

Straining his neck to get a better look at the
chart hanging from the side of the table, Mulder's 
eyes widened and his chest tightened as he read 
the name listed at the top of it.

Subject #630142: Barry, Duane.

~~~~

12:33 am
Highway 60


Scully drove down the deserted highway, her eyes 
absentmindedly scanning the road, her mind racing 
with thoughts of Mulder.

She'd seen his blood tonight.

Not the blood from one of the paper cuts or popped
blisters he'd sometimes get at the office, but the
blood from something much more serious.

Had Duane hurt him?

Although everyone at the crime scene thought he
had, she didn't think so.

No, this blood was from something else.

Knowing Mulder the way she did, it was more likely
that he had hurt himself while fighting back.

Maybe his hands were tied together, and he had 
rubbed his wrists raw trying to get free or maybe 
he'd actually gotten loose and punched Duane, 
bloodying his knuckles in the process.

Or maybe...

Maybe it had absolutely nothing to do with Duane
and everything to do with aliens.

Aliens.

God, she couldn't believe she was even thinking of 
such a possibility, but it was there.

It was there right in front of her, and though she
knew the chances of someone actually being abducted
by aliens were next to impossible, she still had to 
consider it.

After all, if Mulder were here and she was the one
missing, he would.  

He'd consider the evidence and propose a theory 
about it to her, and she'd try to find a scientific
reason to disagree with it. Then he'd revise his 
theory, and she'd find a way to refute it a second 
time.

It's the way they did things, the way they'd always
done things starting from the first day they met.

And what they'd done right up until she'd gotten 
a call from him in Virginia asking her to do a 
background check on Duane Barry.

It seemed so long ago since she'd found out about 
the bullet that pierced Duane's frontal lobes and 
essentially destroyed his life.

So long ago since she'd raced to Virginia to give 
the information to Mulder, only to find out that 
he'd traded himself for a hostage.

So long ago since she'd put on a set of earphones
and nervously listened to the two of them talking 
about aliens.

Was it possible that Duane had been telling the 
truth all along?  Were They really out there, 
abducting people and then experimenting on them?

Mulder thought so.

And maybe, just maybe, a small part of her thought
it was possible too.

Flipping on her turn signal, she quickly wiped 
away the moisture underneath her eyes, then turned 
down the exit ramp.

~~~~

12:45 am
Skyland Mountain


A.D. Skinner took one last look at the crime scene,
then started walking to his car.  Although it had
been determined that both Mulder and Duane Barry 
had been in Mulder's car and on the top of the 
mountain, there were still a lot of unanswered 
questions about exactly what had happened to the 
two of them after they got out of the car.

As for him, he was still certain that the cigarette 
smoking man was involved in some way. He just didn't 
know how.

Or why.

Why go to so much trouble to stage such a high- 
profile and unnecessarily violent kidnapping of 
a federal agent? If he wanted Mulder out of the 
way so badly, wouldn't it have been easier to 
just quietly kill him in his sleep and be done 
with it?

Unless...

Unless there was something he wanted from him.

But what?

What could Mulder possibly have that he wanted?

Opening the car door, he sat down inside and leaned 
his head back against the headrest.  It was well 
past midnight, he was exhausted, and there really 
wasn't anything else left for him to do here, and 
yet he felt like he should stay and look around at
least one more time.

Maybe there was something he missed, something that
the other agents overlooked and that only he would
understand. He'd already gone over everything three
times since he'd been here, but he needed to try 
again.

Pulling his coat collar up around his neck, he got 
back out of the car.  It was colder than when he 
first arrived here, and he quickly tucked his hands 
inside his pockets to keep them warm.  Mulder's 
car had been towed away about fifteen minutes ago, 
and most of the agents had already left the crime 
scene so he could pretty much look around wherever 
he wanted to without being interrupted.

Knowing that the area around the car had been 
thoroughly searched numerous times, he decided 
to focus his attention on a different spot, more 
to the east of the crime scene.  Once he got to
the edge, his eyes were immediately drawn to the 
dark cluster of trees down at the bottom of the 
hill.

Although search teams had turned up nothing in
the woods earlier, maybe they warranted a second 
look.  Pulling a flashlight out of his pocket,
he flipped on the switch, and started heading
down the hill.  He had only gone a few yards
when his cell phone rang, the shrill ring sharply
cutting through the thick night air.

"Skinner."

"Working late tonight, are you, Mr. Skinner?" 

"Excuse me?" he said, his eyes quickly scanning
the area around him, but seeing no one.

"I take it Agent Mulder's body hasn't been found 
yet," he remarked.

"His body?  What the hell are you talking about?"
demanded Skinner, gritting his teeth and trying 
to keep his voice calm.

"My sources tell me that Agent Mulder's car was
found at Skyland Mountain, but that he was still
missing. How's Agent Scully holding up?" he asked.

"Now you listen to me, you son of a bitch, you 
stay away from Agent Scully, and you stay away 
from this investigation," said Skinner, his grip 
on the flashlight becoming tighter with each word.

"You seem to be under the impression that you have
the authority to give me orders when that is clearly 
not the case, Mr. Skinner."

Not wanting to take the man's bait, Skinner bit his 
bottom lip and took a deep breath before answering.  
"What do you know about Mulder's disappearance?"

"I know that it will all be over soon," he replied, 
then smugly added, "Or will it?"

And with those words, he hung up.

~~~~

"You've got to be kidding, Mulder."

"Would I kid about something like this?"

"No, it's just that...flesh eating worms, really?"

"Yeah, and they seem to be devouring people whole...
at least according to one Martha Hinson of Kibler, 
Arkansas," he stated, a sly grin on his face as he 
sat down behind his desk.

"Do I even need to tell you the statistical 
impossibility of that actually happening, Mulder?" 
she asked, trying to suppress her own smile.

"Tell me, Scully."

"Okay, but don't forget, you asked for it," she 
teased, sitting down in the chair in front of him.

Scully woke with a start, her eyes rapidly blinking, 
as they tried to adjust to the early morning sunlight 
seeping through the curtains. Putting her hand over 
her loudly beating heart, she did a quick scan of 
the room, looking at the objects in it.

Some paintings on the wall. A bookcase. Two dressers, 
one with a mirror. 

Her bedroom.

And yet it was all so clear where she was just a 
moment ago, sitting with him in the basement, the 
two of them debating the plausibility of a case.

And Mulder was clear, so clear it was as if he 
was right there with her.

Then again, maybe he was.

They'd talked about dreams before, about their 
psychological significance, about how they can 
influence what a person thinks and does when 
they're awake.

Was that why she'd just dreamt of them being in 
the one place where they both felt most comfortable 
with each other?

Or did it mean something more ominous?

Rubbing her eyes, she puffed out her cheeks and 
slowly exhaled, the warm air from her breath 
drifting back across her face.  Then she flipped 
the covers off her legs and dragged her tired body 
out of bed.

She didn't know what she was going to do when
morning came or where she was going to go. 

All she knew was that Mulder needed her, and she 
wasn't about to let him down.

~~~~

"Ah Mr. Mulder, you're awake," said the big man 
with the marble cheeks.  "I trust you slept well," 
he added, checking his wristbands to make sure 
they were secure.

"I sleep better with the TV on," remarked Mulder
sarcastically, his eyes following the man's every
movement.

"I see you haven't lost your sense of humor. I'm
impressed, especially considering what you've been 
through," he remarked, looking at the monitors next 
to the bed, then writing the information on a chart.

"And what's that?" asked Mulder, knowing he wasn't
going to get an honest answer, but hoping for one 
anyway.

The big man set the chart down, then bent over him.
"Let's just say that our supply is quite plentiful
now, thanks to you...and Duane Barry."

The image of Duane's lifeless body lying on a table
next to him flashed before his eyes, sending a chill
down his back.

"What the hell did you do to him...to me?" he loudly
demanded, though he was in no position to demand 
anything. "Tell me what you did, you son of a bitch," 
he repeated, his voice rising, his chest heaving as 
he desperately struggled to get his wrists and ankles 
out of the metal bands clamped around them.

"We did what needed to be done," the man replied,
suddenly pulling out a syringe from behind his back
and plunging it into his prisoner's arm.

Mulder's eyes rolled up inside his head almost 
instantly, his muscles twitched, and then nothing.

The big man looked down at the now motionless body
lying in front of him, took a phone out of his 
pocket and pressed the button.

Hooking the long tubular device to Mulder's penis 
one last time, he held the phone closer to his
mouth, then proudly announced, "It's time."

~~~~

The last thing he remembered was the sharp end of 
a needle being rammed into his arm, the last thing 
he felt a liquid sensation flowing through his body. 
 
And then nothing. 
 
And nothing is what he felt right now. 
 
He couldn't feel his arms or legs, couldn't wiggle  
his fingers or toes, couldn't feel himself breathing. 
 
Was he breathing? 
 
He thought so, but the light in front of him was so  
blinding that he couldn't see the rise and fall of  
his chest to be sure. 

It didn't feel like he was flying or hovering, and
yet he was almost positive that somehow he was being 
transported to another place.

But where?

~~~~

4:47 am


She'd tried to make herself go back to sleep for 
the past hour, but she hadn't been able to, her 
mind racing with too many thoughts of Mulder and
the dream she'd had about him earlier.

She'd heard his voice, debated with him the way
she always did when they were working, sat down
in a chair right in front of him.

And it had all seemed so real.

So, what did it mean, if anything?

Several months ago, she'd had another dream...or
maybe a vision, she still wasn't sure...of her
father.  He was sitting in her living room right
in front of her, his arms propped up on the arm
rests, his mouth trying to tell her something.

And it had all seemed so real too.

Moments later, she'd gotten a call from her mother
telling her that her father had died of a massive
coronary earlier in the night.

Was it possible that she'd dreamt about Mulder 
because he was dead too?

No, she refused to believed that.  

How could he possibly be dead when she still felt
his presence so strongly?

He wasn't dead, he couldn't be, or she would have
felt it.

Wouldn't she?

Her head pounding now, her hands shaking, she 
dragged herself out of bed again and went into 
the bathroom to get ready.  

For what, she didn't know.

~~~~

When he became aware of himself again, he was 
surprised to find himself wearing clothes and 
lying on a floor.

All the other times he'd awakened, he was naked 
and strapped to a table, but this time when his 
eyes opened, the place where he was seemed familiar 
to him.

He was too weak to get up, and his vision was too 
distorted to see much, but he appeared to be in  
some sort of office, its walls cluttered with  
photos and newspaper clippings, its shelves lined  
with books. 
 
His head dropping back to the floor, he shut his 
eyes in relief and let the fuzzy images on the 
walls comfort him. 

~~~~ 
 
She didn't know why she was sitting in the Hoover 
Building parking lot at 4:30 in the morning. She 
didn't know why she was holding onto the steering 
wheel so tightly or why she couldn't stop trembling. 
 
And she didn't know why she suddenly had to go to 
his office. 
 
All she knew was that she needed to be where she'd 
last been with Mulder, even if was only in a dream.

Turning off the engine, she took her key out of the
ignition and got out of the car.  Not surprisingly,
it was still dark outside, and it was cold enough
so that she could see her breath when she exhaled.
Tucking her hands into her pockets, she hurried
through the parking lot and into the warm building.

Once inside, she was surprised at how many people
were already there, especially since it was so early
in the morning.  Though she herself had never come 
to work this early before, she knew that sometimes 
Mulder did, and she wished more than anything that 
he was down in his office right now waiting for her.

"Agent Scully," a familiar voice called out from 
behind her, startling her from her thoughts.

She turned around to find A.D. Skinner standing there,
his trench coat halfway unbuttoned, his hands in his
pockets.  He wasn't wearing his glasses, and judging
from the dark half-circles under his eyes and the 
stubble on his face, it looked as if he'd been up 
all night.

"Sir?" she asked, her own hands in her pockets, her
fingers nervously twisting the fabric inside.  "Did 
something happen?  Has Agent Mulder been found?" she 
asked anxiously.

Not wanting to admit his failure at turning up 
anything overnight, he looked down at the floor to 
compose himself a moment, then looked back up and 
said, "I wish I could tell you something new, Agent, 
but the truth is, we're not any closer to finding 
Agent Mulder than we were before.  I'm sorry."

She knew that's what he was going to say, she knew it
as soon as she looked at him, but that didn't make
hearing his words any easier.  "I know you're doing
everything you can, sir," she said, taking note of
his disheveled clothes and slumped posture.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement.  "I'll be in 
my office if you need anything," he said quietly as 
he turned to walk away.

"Sir," she said, suddenly not wanting to make the 
trek down to the basement alone.

"Yes, Agent Scully, what is it?" he answered, his
eyebrows raising in anticipation of what she was
about to say.

"I'm going down to the basement to check on a few
things, and I'd like you to come with me, give me 
a complete report of what was found out at Skyland 
Mountain last night," she requested, trying to
sound calm and professional, though inside she felt
anything but those things.

As he considered her suggestion, it occurred to him
that he'd actually only been down to Mulder's office
once since he became his boss.  At the time, he'd
been amused by the endless clutter and all the 
unusual items Mulder had covering the walls and 
shelves.

He'd also been amazed.

Amazed by his agent's unorthodox, yet often brilliant 
methods. Amazed at his resourcefulness and his ability 
to take the most minute detail and use it to solve 
a case.

And amazed at the fact that so many people wanted
to see him fail.

He, himself, had even given him a difficult time 
on more than one occasion, and for that, he was
truly sorry.

But now, now he had a chance to do something right 
for the man, and come hell or high water, he'd do 
whatever it took to find him.

"I assume you and Agent Mulder have a coffeemaker 
down there," he inquired, his eyes softening.

"Ah...yes, sir," she replied awkwardly. 

"I have something I need to take care of in my 
office first, but I'll meet you down there in ten 
minutes," he said, hesitantly touching her arm, 
then heading down the hallway.

"Thank you, sir," she said, turning towards the 
elevator and pressing the down button.

~~~~

Mulder rolled on his side and groaned, his muscles 
tight and sore, his head swimming with a thousand 
thoughts, none of them coherent.

Pushing against the floor with his hands, he tried 
to sit up again, tried to make himself move away 
from the metal chair leg that was pressing into his 
back, but he couldn't.

He couldn't make his body move, couldn't make his
mouth work, couldn't do anything he wanted to do
no matter how hard he tried.

"Mulder, wake up, Mulder..." he heard someone say.
"Mulder, it's me...come on, Mulder, open your eyes,"
he heard her say again, this time her voice more
insistent.

"Scully?" 

"Yes, it's me, Mulder," she replied, her warm 
breath wafting across his closed eyelids.

The next thing he knew she was touching his neck, 
his forehead, his cheeks, and her fingers were so
soft, so incredibly gentle as they lightly brushed 
over his bruised skin...

But was it really her?  

Was it the Scully he knew, or the Scully that had
taunted him and used his feelings against him?

He forced his eyes open, tried to focus on the
woman above him. "Are you real?" he rasped, his 
hand weakly reaching up and touching her face.

Tears welling up in her eyes, she placed her hand
over his and pressed his fingers against her cheek.
"I'm real, Mulder," she whispered, bending down even 
closer to his face. "I'm real, and I'm not going to
let anyone hurt you anymore..."

Hearing the tone in her voice, feeling her calming
presence, her gentle strength, he knew that what 
she was saying was true.

He was home.

And he was safe.

~~~~

Leaning against the elevator wall, Skinner rubbed
his tired eyes and thought about what he was going 
to say to Scully once he got down to the office.  
He really didn't have much to tell her...hell, he 
didn't have anything to tell her, but he knew that 
she needed to hear something, anything, about what 
was done to find Mulder at Skyland Mountain last 
night.

He wished he could tell her about the late night
phone call he'd gotten from the smoking man.  He 
wished he could tell her about his suspicions, but 
if his gut instinct was right, it would only put 
her in danger too, and he didn't want that. Letting
out a frustrated sigh, he waited for the elevator
door to open, then stepped out into the hallway.

Once he got to their office, he was surprised and
more than a little concerned to see that the door 
wasn't closed and that there weren't any lights on.  
"Agent Scully?  Are you in here?" he asked, the 
crease in his forehead deepening as he cautiously 
walked through the wide open door.

"I'm over here," she replied, her voice sounding
muffled, like she was in a tunnel.  "We're over 
here."

We?  What the hell?

Hurrying over behind the desk where he heard her
voice come from, his eyes widened as he looked
down at the listless body she held in her arms.

"Agent Mulder," he said, immediately crouching
down beside her. "It's Assistant Director Skinner,
can you hear me?" he asked anxiously, his chest 
tightening at the sight at the battered man lying 
on the floor in front of him. 

Mulder groaned, then licked his dry cracked lips.
"Scul..lee..." he mumbled.

"I'm right here, Mulder. I told you I wasn't going
anywhere, and I'm not going to," she said softly,
running her palm over his hair. "His pulse is thready, 
his skin feels cold, his pupils are dilated, and I 
don't know what else," she stated, not taking her 
eyes off him. "We need to get him to a hospital as 
soon as possible."

"What happened here, Agent Scully?" asked Skinner,
quickly standing up again and grabbing the phone
on Mulder's desk.

"I don't know how he got here, and I don't care.  
Right now all I care about is getting him to the 
hospital, sir," she answered firmly, still not
taking her eyes off her partner.

Pressing 911, he anxiously tapped his fingers on 
the desk waiting for someone to answer.  Three
seconds later someone did.  

"This is Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the 
Federal Bureau of Investigation, and I need an 
ambulance sent to the Hoover Building immediately," 
he stated with authority.  "Yes, I have an agent 
down, approximate age early 30's, in shock with 
what appears to be both internal and external 
injuries," he continued. "Please hurry."

"There's a blanket over there in the closet," she
said, finally looking away from Mulder and pointing
over at the closet to the left of her.

Skinner hung up the phone, then quickly did as he 
was told, grabbing the blanket from the top shelf 
and rushing it back over to her.  Handing it to 
her, he asked, "He was just lying here like this 
when you got here?"

She gently covered her partner up, being careful 
not to move him anymore than she had to. "He looks 
so pale," she said quietly, ignoring the question
as she checked his pulse again.

Mulder looked up at her then, his eyelids opened
at half-mast. "Water," he muttered, his tongue 
trying to lick his upper lip.

"I got it," said Skinner, hurrying to the back
area where the sink was and turning on the faucet.
Pulling out a paper cup from the dispenser, he
put a small amount of water in it, then brought
it back to Scully.

"Just a little," she said, slightly lifting his 
head and tipping the cup into his mouth. The moment 
he drank it, a small amount came right back out 
again, his mouth expelling it down his chin and 
onto the floor.

"Oh, Mulder..." she said, her voice quivering as 
she took a corner of the blanket and tried to wipe 
up the mess.  She bit her lip and looked away from 
him then, trying to compose herself.  "Where the 
hell is that ambulance?" she asked, sniffling as 
she continued to wipe up the liquid with one hand 
and hold Mulder's head in the other hand. 

"Everything's going to be okay, Agent Scully," 
reassured Skinner, crouching down beside her again 
and touching her shoulder.  "Mulder's too strong 
to let Them win," he declared.

Embarrassed by her emotional display, she quickly 
swiped her hand underneath her eyes and nose, then 
turned her head and tipped her chin up.  "Yes, he 
is," she quietly agreed.

"We're going to find the men responsible for this, 
Agent Scully, I promise," he said, his voice filled 
with determination as he stood back up.

And he meant it.

Whatever it took, whatever wheels he had to grease,
whatever game he had to play now to resolve things, 
he'd do it no matter what rules he had to break.

"I'll go out in the hallway, let the EMT's know 
where we are when they get here," he offered, taking 
a step away from the desk.

She looked up at him and said nothing, her eyes 
filled with unspoken gratitude, then turned her 
attention back to Mulder.

"I'll be right outside if you need me," he said,
leaving the two of them alone as he headed towards 
the doorway.

She tucked the blanket tighter around his body and
brushed her hand over his hair again.  His eyes 
looked a little more focused than just a few moments 
ago, his pupils bigger. "Just hold on a little longer, 
partner, the ambulance should be here any minute," 
she reassured him.

He startled her then, suddenly grabbing hold of her 
arm and pulling her down closer to his face. "Missed 
you...Scul...ly," he whispered, his words trailing
off as he let his eyes slip shut again. 

"I missed you too, Mulder," she whispered back,
pressing her palm to his cool cheek.  "But you're
back now, and you're safe...and I'm not going to
let anything happen to you."

Letting out a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes 
and listened to the welcome sound of footsteps 
scurrying down the hallway.

And the steady sound of her partner's beating heart.

~~~~

Unknown Location
6:06 am


"Do you have it?" he asked, taking a long drag from
his cigarette.

The marble-faced man nodded and held out a package
in his hands.

"I trust all went well then," he remarked, taking
the parcel.

"He gave us exactly what we needed to continue with
our plans," he said smugly, "And I returned him this
morning just as you ordered.  He's not in very good 
shape though."

He took another drag, then dropped his cigarette
to the floor and stepped on it. "And he'll remember 
nothing?" 

"I took care of it."

"Good, good... he said, opening the package.  He 
carefully took out the cool wire holder and lifted 
it up in front of his face so he could get a better 
look at the milky fluid inside the eight vials. 
"You've done well," he declared, putting the holder 
and its contents back inside the box.

"So, we're ready to move on with the next phase 
then?" the big man asked.

"Give her one day with him, then you may proceed," 
he replied, taking his lighter out of his pocket.  
"We'll finalize the rest of our plans tomorrow," 
he added as he clicked the lighter and pressed 
the flame to a second cigarette.

Picking up the box, the marble-cheeked man walked 
toward the door, a shadow of a smile passing over 
his face. "Tomorrow..."


~end~


**Thanks so much for taking the time to read this
story. Although it was difficult for me to write 
at times, I enjoyed the challenge of trying to 
write the characters of season two and of taking 
such a monumental event from the actual show and 
putting a different twist on it. I'd love to hear 
your thoughts about it if you feel so inclined...
and before you write and ask me...No, I do NOT 
plan on writing a sequel for this.  I wanted to
end on an ominous note so I did.  End of story...
or is it?;)  susanf34@comcast.net


possibilities
http://possibilities.bravehost.com

the bare essentials
http://www.geocities.com/filesfan34/

  
Started November 2002.  Completed December 2003.